Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) (7 page)

She crossed to the other
side of the street in a hurry, turning over her shoulder to stare
back at the store.

The man was outside now, one
hand resting on his doorframe, neck craning as he looked her
way.

She just walked
faster.

Let that be a
lesson to you.
She
thought to herself.
Do not go into creepy second-hand bookstores on your own at
night.

She shook her head several
times, trying to dispel any latent fright that might be scratching
its way around her body.

It wasn't as hard as it
might have seemed to someone else, because Celeste had worked a lot
on managing fear. When she'd been a kid, she'd suffered from
horrendous, awful nightmares. So crippling in fact, that she'd
become withdrawn and introverted. She'd worked on it though. Over
the years, with all sorts of methods, she'd come to conquer her
fear. By no means was she ballsy or stupidly brave, but she did
like to think that these days she was analytical, sensible, and
knew how to work with her fear and not against it.

By the time she made it
halfway back to her car, her heart rate was normal, her breathing
was fine, and the creepy man was starting to become a distant
memory. Sure, she was unlikely to go into that store again, but she
wasn't going to be catastrophic about her little experience. The
man may have simply had a mental illness, may have been playing a
joke on her, or could have acted in that way for any number of
reasons. Celeste wasn't going to overreact though.

As she made it to her car,
she heard someone call her name.

She turned around to see
Jack. He was standing there, no longer in the green-brown of his
army uniform, but in a pair of denim jeans, a grey polo shirt, and
with that same large-faced black watch on his wrist.

He looked great. Seriously,
this man would probably look great no matter what he was
wearing.

She couldn't help but grin
as he walked up to her, and it was probably a stupid grin at that.
So she latched a hand on her mouth, tensed her fingers, and
pretended to scratch at something on her chin. Then she nodded at
him as he finally reached her side.

‘
How are you settling
in?’

‘
Pretty good,’ she tried to
ensure her smile hadn't become rabid again. ‘But Susie has left me
an incredibly long list of chores. I've got no problem with them,
but I can't find everything she is talking about. Like she wants me
to cut her hedges and she says that the hedge trimmers are in the
shed. But when I looked—’

‘
They’re at my house,’ he
interrupted. ‘I can bring them round tomorrow if you'd
like.’

Oh, I would
like that very much.
Celeste thought, actually having to clench her teeth
together so she didn't give him the stupidest of grins. She nodded.
‘Thank you, that's really nice of you. But I can just pick them up
if that's easier.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I
think you'll find a lot of her tools are at my house. What else is
on the list?’

‘
You name it. She wants me to
clear out the drains,’ Celeste started to count things on her
fingers. ‘She wants me to get a load of wood in really early, for
winter obviously, and stack it in the shed. She wants me to weed
the garden. She wants me to clean the house, clear out the attic of
cobwebs—’

Jack started to laugh, and it
was a very distracting move. His shoulders bounced up a bit, his
large, proportional, muscular chest pulling against the fabric of
his polo shirt. ‘She likes to put people to work,’ he explained as
he kept on laughing. ‘Don't worry, I can give you a hand if you'd
like.’

I'm not
worried, not worried at all.
Celeste thought as she grabbed her hair and pushed it over
her shoulder, trying to neaten it up.

‘
Only if you have time; I don't
want to be a burden on anyone.’

‘
She is my crazy aunt,’ Jack
explained as he looked down at his watch.

He always
looks down at his watch, maybe he's timing how long he spends with
me.
Celeste
thought.
Or
maybe he is just a really, really busy guy.

Celeste brought her hand up
and ran it through her hair again. Then she winced as her wrist
gave a little twinge of pain. She brought her free hand down and
rubbed it over the skin.

Jack watched the move. ‘Did you
hurt yourself?’

‘
No, I just had a run-in with
someone,’ Celeste said, voice easy. Then she stopped as Jack
stiffened. She put a hand up. Shaking her head. ‘No, no, not like
that, sorry. I walked into this store . . . '
she trailed off. She had to think about how to describe this in a
way that didn't sound dodgy.

Jack was still stiff, his
expression, which had seconds ago been easy, was now cautious.
‘What do you mean, Celeste?’

Dammit, you
could have handled this better.
She thought, as she gave a slight shake of her head.
Oh well, honesty
was always the best policy. Never hide from
anything.

‘
I walked into this second-hand
bookstore, I thought it was open, I mean the sign did say it was
open and the door was open and the light was on,’ she began to
babble, her voice quick, her words collecting together. She didn't
stop though. ‘Anyway, there was this guy, kind of creepy. Then he
grabbed me, but it was all cool. I think he may have just had a
mental problem, or maybe he was really tired, or whatever,’ Celeste
began to list the various reasons she'd come up with to explain the
man's behavior.

Though she intended her
explanation to calm Jack down, it had the opposite effect. The more
she spoke, the more his eyebrows pressed together, the more his
head tilted to the side, the more his shoulders tensed, his biceps
tight under his sleeves. ‘Where was this? When was
this?’

Celeste waved her hands around
again, a move she always did when she was trying to convince people
that everything was okay. ‘It was just before. Just the
second-hand—’

‘
Second-hand bookstore. You're
talking about Arthur Turner,’ Jack's voice was darker now. ‘You
want to make a complaint?’

Celeste laughed, and it was a
bubbly sound. ‘No, no, I'm fine.’

‘
Are you sure? How's the wrist?’
Jack nodded towards it.

She shrugged, trying to make the
move look as easy and natural as she could. ‘It's fine, I'm sure it
won't even bruise. Look – like I said, I'm sure the guy had his
reasons. Nothing really happened. It was my stupid fault for going
into a second-hand bookstore at nine o'clock at night.’

‘
Bookstores aren't generally the
most dangerous of places,’ Jack said, voice lighter now, but
expression still tense. ‘You sure you don't want to make a
complaint? You wouldn't be the first.’

‘
No, no, look I'm fine. It was my
stupid mistake. Anyhow . . . .’

‘
You want to change the subject?’
Jack asked perceptively.

Celeste gave an awkward laugh.
‘Yes.’

‘
Is 0600 too early?’ Jack
asked.

‘
Too early for what?’

He chuckled. Maybe he'd seen how
confused Celeste looked, or maybe it was something else. ‘For me to
come around and help you with your chores?’

It was Celeste's turn to
chuckle. ‘Yes.’

‘
I thought so. How
about . . . ' he trailed off, appearing to
think. ‘11?’

She wanted to say why not make
it 12, and just stay for lunch, but she stopped herself. Jack West
no doubt had a girlfriend. There was no way that a man as
good-looking as he was and as decent, kind, and oh so yummy would
not already be with someone. Granted, it didn't look like he was
married; he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. But . . .
the girls of Gresham City would have been incredibly remiss to let
this one go. So she just pressed her lips together and then offered
a smile. ‘Sounds great.’

Jack began to smile back,
but then quickly twisted his head to look across the other side of
the street.

The monstrosity of a stone
church she'd spent most of her afternoon in was across the way from
them. There weren't that many streetlights around it, but the one
streetlight that was just in front suddenly illuminated a woman as
she walked past. She had a mass of red, curly hair.

Miss Redhead.

What's she
doing going back at that church at night?
Celeste thought quickly. ‘Now that is one
dedicated tourist,’ she said out-loud.

Jack turned to her, his cheeks
pressing up, his lips pulling wide in a confused smile. ‘What do
you mean?’

‘
Sorry, you probably need
context. I went to that church this afternoon on a tour, and that
woman was there. And boy did she ask questions. She kept on
interrupting the tour guide and asking him about the crypt, I
thought we were never going to get out.’ Celeste shook her head.
When she was on autopilot, she was well aware that she could be a
motor mouth.

‘
She was on your tour?’ Jack's
voice sounded careful for some reason.

Celeste nodded, flicking her
ponytail back over her shoulder as it came tumbling over her chest.
‘Oh yes. She was about the only person that didn't look like they
were drowning in sweat. Then, when we went outside, she started
taking photos of this guy's tombstone. What was his name, Solomon
Park?’

‘
Clarke,’ Jack corrected
quickly.

‘
Sorry, is he some kind of town
hero or something?’ she gave an awkward shrug.

‘
No,’ Was all Jack said, but
Celeste couldn't help but think he was holding something
back.

Silence spread between them, and
it started to get very awkward indeed. Celeste eventually gave a
little cough. ‘Anyway, that crypt, if it does exist, isn't the most
interesting thing about that church. Even that stupid tile that was
apparently taken from the First Crusade wasn't even that
interesting. The Star of David burnt onto the oak beam, now that
was kind of weird. It's a Christian Church, so what's a Jewish
symbol doing there?’ Celeste really was babbling now, but she
didn't care. Over the years she'd just kind of accepted that was
part of her character.

Jack stopped; it was really the
only way to describe it. His body stiffened, his long, appreciable
muscles tightening visibly under his grey shirt and jeans. ‘Where
was the Star of David?’

Celeste pointed up. ‘It was
right above that demon tile thing. It wasn't very big – I had to
use the zoom lens on my camera to see it. But it was there. I
wonder if there is a crafty gang of Rabbis going around playing
pranks on Catholic priests or something.’ She started to chuckle at
the mental image.

Jack did not
chuckle.

Oh god, he
thinks I'm being rude, doesn't he?
'Oh, I'm not being rude or anything; my
great-grandmother was Jewish and my dad’s a catholic,’ Celeste
explained quickly.

That didn't improve Jack's
expression; in fact, Jack just turned his head back to the church,
hand darting towards his pocket until he pulled out his mobile
phone. ‘If you could excuse me, Celeste, I'll see you tomorrow
morning.’ With that, Jack offered her a smile and then began
walking across the street.

She offered him a small
wave, even though he wasn't looking her way.

She had definitely stuffed
that up.

At least she would have
another chance tomorrow morning though.

Chapter 6

Jack West

He stood in front of his
bathroom mirror, tracing his fingers down the scar that ran
lengthwise along his shoulder blade. It was healing up.

Then he turned around,
staring at his back. There were three deep scars running across
it.

Eventually he shook his
head, walked back from the mirror, flicked a hand down his nose,
and took a sigh. If he spent the entire night looking at every
single wound he'd picked up off the Yaoguai, he'd never get any
sleep.

Still, they were permanent
reminders about what they could do.

Jack shrugged his shoulders,
walking over to his bed and flicking the sheets to the side. He
wouldn't need them tonight; it was stinking hot still. He had every
single window wide open, and there was an ocean breeze whistling
along outside, but that didn't stop the sweat from collecting
between his shoulder blades.

His house wasn't even that
hot. His dad's old house, on the other hand, was a stinker. All of
the bedrooms were on the third level, and everybody knows heat
rises.

Though his dad had left his
house to him, Jack had never been able to move in. Too many
memories. Aunt Susie did not have those kind of qualms though, and
Jack was happy to see someone living in it. Technically he still
owned the place though, but he'd never kick Susie out, just as he'd
never move back in.

She is
probably burning up in there.
Jack thought as he lay down on his bed, grabbing his pillow
and bringing it under his neck.
Celeste Cross, you are a lot more
interesting than I thought you'd be.