Aven's Dream Read online

“How? Where is he?”

  I heard a loud clicking noise, and suddenly a bright white spotlight illuminated the center of the room. I stared uncomprehendingly at the glass tank filled with water. It was like something from an over-the-top magic act where the illusionist is chained up at the bottom. In this tank, though, there was a giant stone coffin.

  I felt the blood drain from my face. My dreams. In my dreams, I had seen all of this: the house on Kincaid, Will trapped underwater, the enormous sarcophagus.

  Another light clicked on, and I saw a huge sledgehammer lying on a stone pedestal. Rushing toward it, I tripped over something on the ground.

  “Damn!” someone cried groggily.

  I froze. There was someone else in here with me—and I didn’t even want to think of what that meant. Suddenly a phone rang across the room. Running toward the glowing light of the screen, I picked it up and saw a name on the screen. James. It was Will’s phone—the one that Fidatov had called me from earlier. Picking it up, I heard James’s voice roar in my ear.

  “What did you do?”

  “I have to help Will.”

  “He’ll kill you, dammit! Open the door.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  I literally couldn’t. I didn’t think there was a way out of here. Setting down the phone, I walked back to the pedestal with the sledgehammer.

  “Ah, James. Welcome,” Fidatov said cheerfully from the TV monitor. “Enjoy with my compliments a front-row seat to a fate far more creative than what I was able to afford you. Oh, and I truly hope you and Grace enjoyed your dance this evening.”

  So that had been how Fidatov distracted James—by sending his past back to haunt him. I didn’t want to think of what Fidatov might have done to distract Gen. Reaching forward, I tried to lift the sledgehammer, but the handle slipped from my grip. Cursing, I gripped it with both hands and pulled. I walked toward the glass tank, holding the sledgehammer like I was going to swing at a baseball. Then, with all my strength, I swung low and hard. The metal connected with the glass, making a dull thud. Not a single crack appeared. Tightening my grip, I felt my hands stinging in protest as blood leaked between my knuckles.

  Desperate, I backed up and then spun around like a discus thrower, hitting the glass with so much force that my teeth rattled together. Stepping back, I swung again, rewarded when I saw the tiniest crack appear in the glass. Will’s phone rang again, and I ignored it—until I heard someone pick up.

  “Who the hell is this—and where the hell am I?” the angry male voice demanded into Will’s phone. “Is she still alive? What? Are you out of your mind? Why?”

  Whoever had picked up Will’s phone stopped and turned toward me, the light from the phone partially illuminating his face like a flashlight during a campfire. My blood froze in my veins as I recognized his face—Tyler Pitt. He hadn’t gone missing; Fidatov had taken him. Suddenly I heard James’s voice over the speakerphone.

  “Aven? I would like you to listen very carefully. If you release Will, then you and anyone else in that room with you is going to die. I’m asking you to be patient and wait for us—”

  “Correction,” Fidatov’s voice said from the TV screen. “In less than twenty minutes from now, this structure is going to erupt into a ball of flames. Aven, if you wish to say goodbye to William before he must pick through the debris for his farewell, then I would recommend against James’s advice.”

  Dropping the sledgehammer, I walked over to Tyler Pitt and snatched the phone from his hand.

  “James?” I said quietly. “I hope you get your happy ending. Someday.”

  I ended the call and walked back over to the sledgehammer. Fidatov’s laughter drowned out everything else as I turned back to the glass tank and swung again. A tiny leak sprang from the crack. Then I heard the glass shatter before a wall of water gushed out, knocking me off my feet. I hit the floor hard. Dazed and gasping for breath, I pushed myself upright and stared at the sarcophagus, which was resting about three feet off the floor on a concrete slab. For all I knew, it was empty. I looked closer. There were chains, like the kind used for ship anchors, wrapped around the stone—like someone was trying to contain whatever—or whoever—was inside.

  Will.

  I stepped carefully through the glass as I looked for a way to open it. Suddenly another spotlight came down on a smaller pedestal with an oversized key. Snatching the key, I walked through the broken glass, looking for a padlock. When I found it, I shoved the key into the keyhole and turned it.

  “Whoever you are, if you want to stay alive, then stop her,” James’s voice said over the speakerphone.

  A hand grabbed me by the hair and pulled. Falling backward to the floor, I stared up at Tyler Pitt.

  “Did you hear what that guy said, you psycho?” he growled at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Saying goodbye.”

  I had never gotten the chance to say goodbye to my mom—and it haunted me. Now I might not get the chance to say goodbye to my dad, either. But this goodbye I could have. Not a fairy tale ending, but I had never expected one.

  The other reason was because maybe, just maybe, Will knew how to beat Fidatov.

  Suddenly I heard the chains binding the sarcophagus. At first, it was just a slight rattle. Then, as the metal actually began to move, I remembered the myth of Pandora’s box. The box, according to my freshman year English teacher, was actually a gigantic jar that the Greeks had sometimes used for human burial.

  A second later, the chains burst, sending broken pieces of metal scattering to the ground as the lid to the container slowly began to move.

  “What the hell is that?” Tyler Pitt gasped as he scrambled away from me into the darkness.

  I would have said, “My boyfriend,” if I hadn’t been too terrified to move. I watched, frozen, as Will sat up. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I might pass out.

  “I’m so glad you could join us, William,” Fidatov said jovially.

  Will turned, his eyes scanning the room. As soon as I saw his face, I knew this wasn’t the same Will I loved. His eyes were gray and dead, his features perfect and inhuman. This was what Will had spoken of when he had referred to himself as a monster. I flinched at the sound of floodlights clicking on one at a time, bathing the room in blinding, white light. When the light hit him, Will hissed like he had been burned.

  “Their terror is quite delicious, is it not?” Fidatov asked, speaking to Will, not us.

  “This had better be some messed up reality show,” Tyler Pitt whined from somewhere behind me. “I am so going to sue for this, Brian! You asshole!”

  Will’s gaze suddenly became riveted on Tyler Pitt, the look in his eyes purely predatory.

  “Tyler,” I whispered. “Shut up!”

  Turning in my direction, Will leapt up onto the edge of the sarcophagus, perching in an unnatural position that made me shudder.

  “Will?” I said softly. “Do you remember me?”

  He breathed in and then grinned in a way that made tremble with fear.

  “Mmm, an empath,” Will purred, licking his lip. “Delicious.”

  His cold, dead eyes left mine, and he looked around for Tyler just as the phone rang again. I saw Tyler lunge for it. Even if Tyler didn’t know what Will was, he probably knew enough to be afraid.

  “Yeah,” Tyler rasped. “She let him out. I don’t know! I think he called her delicious. … Okay, lady. Just get me out of here.”

  Tyler held out the phone.

  “Will, it’s Genevieve, someone who cares for you a great deal. I know somewhere in your mind you remember the girl in there with you. Aven Casey. I never thought it possible, but you fell in love with her—”

  “Love?” Will laughed in a menacing way. “I would never believe in such an absurd emotion.”

  I felt everything in me sink. Any hope I had had—that somehow our love would overcome whatever Fidatov had done to him—melted away.

  “Will, you have to trust me,” Gen ple
aded in a calm voice. “You have to fight the craving until we can help you. Please … don’t do something you will regret for the rest of your existence.”

  “Don’t listen to her, William. Why fight what you are?” Fidatov asked pleasantly.

  Will looked momentarily conflicted. It was like watching the cartoon with the angel and devil on either shoulder, whispering in the person’s ear.

  “Vlad?” Gen said in blood-chilling tone. “I’m going to enjoy dropping you to the bottom of the ocean again. I imagine Will shall spend the rest of his existence making yours a living hell.”

  “William, look at her—bleeding, terrified. Ripe for the taking. Doesn’t it make you … crave her?” Fidatov taunted.

  Will smiled again. The menacing quality behind his expression was even more terrifying on his beautiful face. Then he sprang forward—and I lost sight of him. Hearing Tyler cry out, I swiveled around as I pushed myself off the ground.

  “Aven?” Gen’s voice called nervously from where Tyler had dropped the phone. “Aven, what’s happening?

  “Will’s killing him! What do I do?”

  Tyler was flat on his back, and Will was … standing with both feet on Tyler’s chest, crouched over him. Like the painting. Like that terrible painting. I froze as Will reached out in a blindingly fast motion and wrenched Tyler’s arm out of its socket. I heard the sickening popping sound, but Tyler’s shriek was barely audible as Will’s weight crushed his chest.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Gen said helplessly.

  I shook my head. That wasn’t going to fly. I wasn’t going to watch the person I loved kill someone I didn’t like very much. I refused to let that be the last thing I saw before I died.

  “Will!” I shrieked, running toward them.

  I stopped short when he looked up, hoping for a brief second that he would be Will again, the Will I loved. Instead, he grinned at me and straightened up, walking quickly—impossibly quickly and gracefully—toward me. When he stopped in front of me, he seemed even taller as he stared down at me. I felt his finger under my chin, lifting it.

  “Will …” I whispered pleadingly.

  Even knowing I was going to die, I couldn’t bring myself to regret a single second with him. I couldn’t. But looking into his eyes, I recognized the madness there. It was unmistakable. His other hand gripped mine, his fingers biting into the gashes on my palm. He smiled again as his grip on my wrist tightened. I heard the bone snapping before I felt it. Crying out, I tried to pull away.

  “Yes!” Will growled, closing his eyes. “It’s so much better when you scream.”

  “Will!” James’s voice erupted from the phone. “I … don’t … care if you are out of your mind. If you harm her, I will put you in a box at the bottom of the Pacific next to Fidatov.”

  I could feel the energy leaking out of me as my legs buckled. Will released my wrist, letting me fall to the ground like a ragdoll before looming over me, a terrible glint in his slate-gray eyes.

  “How much longer?” James growled at someone. “Dammit!”

  Every part of me was becoming numb. I had heard this was what it was like to freeze to death … just like going to sleep. Then Will pressed on my wrist, and a spike of pain flooded me. I screamed, but it came out more like a weak gust of air.

  “Aven?” James’s voice said from somewhere far away. “We may not make it in time.”

  “My dad,” I gasped. “Tell him I love him. Please.”

  “I promise,” James said forcefully.

  “And Will,” I whispered.

  There was only silence in response as I felt the numbness swallowing me. With my good hand, I reached under the neckline of my dress and felt the ring Will had given me. I tugged until the chain snapped. Then I held it up to him. He flinched as I pressed it against his chest, and then my arm dropped and I heard the ring fall to the floor.

  “Will …”

  Looking into his eyes, I could only feel a strange sort of relief for whatever time I had left with him. I wanted to tell him that it would be all right, but the words wouldn’t pass my lips. With everything I had left in me, I thought of all the moments with Will, the feeling when his bright blue eyes seared into mine, the way his skin felt against my fingers, the feel of his lips on mine, the way it felt when he said I love you. Closing my eyes, I forced all the energy outward, smiling as I imagined Will’s eyes, vivid and blue.

  “Aven?”

  It was Will’s voice, but I was too tired. All I wanted to do was sleep. Then a tortured howl of pain jolted me awake, and I heard James’s voice from far away.

  “If you don’t get her out of there in the next ninety seconds, it will be her ashes you’re weeping over—and I won’t feel an ounce of pity for you.”

  Suddenly I felt arms beneath me, lifting me. Forcing my eyes open, I looked up at Will as he lowered me into something. Cold metal pressed against the thin material of my dress. Fear flooded through me, and I thought only one thing: No one else should pay for my choices.

  “Tyler,” I whispered.

  Will disappeared, and a second later he reappeared with Tyler Pitt in a fireman’s carry. He lowered Tyler’s limp body next to mine, and then suddenly Will was over me and I heard the sound of stone grating against stone until all light was blocked out.

  “Aven, I love you.”

  In the darkness, I smiled at Will’s voice. Then I let myself drift to sleep. I frowned when a muffled crash of thunder shook me into a reluctant state of consciousness. My eyelids were impossibly heavy when I opened them in the blackness.

  Am I dead? I wondered.

  Was this what death was? An eternity of blackness?

  Then my lungs seized, begging for air. I tried to breathe in, but there was nothing to breathe. Again I heard the sound of stone against stone, and suddenly there was light streaming down on me—moonlight. Arms slid under me, lifting me from the cold surface.

  “If you so much as touch her, I will put you back in that box and solder it shut,” a familiar voice hissed.

  “James!” Gen’s voice chided.

  “I will,” he snapped. “He nearly killed her, if he hasn’t already.”

  I tried to open my eyes again, but I was just too tired.

  “She won’t last much longer,” Gen said. “Set her down.”

  I felt cold ground beneath me as large hands gripped each of mine. A jolt of energy surged through me, and with it came pain. Horrible, writhing pain. I screamed.

  “Again! She’s going into shock—I can feel it,” Gen whispered.

  My stomach heaved, and someone rolled me to the side right before I threw up. Then hands covered mine, jolting me again. Feeling jittery, cold, and sick, I opened my eyes as someone picked me up, cradling me in both arms. Then I felt myself being lowered into a seat. A seatbelt clicked into place. When my head rolled to the side, I saw James’s profile.

  He reached over and touched my cheek.

  Then I closed my eyes.

  Chapter 26: Truth and Lies

  I blinked, slowly focusing on my surroundings. Blue curtains. Beeping. The hospital.

  “No …” I whispered.

  Not the hospital again. My poor dad would freak, I thought groggily.

  Wait—my dad!

  “Dad!” I gasped, trying to sit up.

  The second I moved I felt a jolt of sharp pain along my arm and both my hands stung like they were on fire. I looked down and saw a cast on my wrist. Then suddenly someone’s hand touched my shoulder. I looked over and saw James staring down at me.

  “I’m sorry, Aven. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter—I’ve made sure this will never affect you again.” Before I could ask what he was talking about, he began to leave. “I’ll bring your father,” he said over his shoulder.

  He disappeared, and a few seconds later I heard a door open.

  “Aven? Sweetie?”

  When my dad stopped at the side of the bed and put his hand
gently on my cheek, I winced at the sight of him. It was like he had aged since the last time I had seen him—and I knew it was my fault. His dark hair was rumpled, like he had pulling at it.

  “Dad, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Aven! How can you be asking me that from a hospital bed?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I swear, you’re so much like your mother … and I nearly … I nearly lost—”

  When my dad broke down, throwing a hand over his eyes to shield his face, I started crying, too. Seeing him like this hurt more than anything else.

  “Dad, I’m okay,” I whispered, reaching out to comfort him despite the flames licking at my hand.

  I winced again when the needle in my arm pinched me. My dad looked up and shook his head, his eyes red-rimmed and tortured. Seeing so much pain in his face made it feel like someone had punched me in the gut.

  “Aven, honey. I should have been so much more present in your life. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief … I should have questioned things more when that boy showed up in your life. I’m so sorry. I really messed up.”

  I shook my head, frowning.

  “Dad, you’ve totally lost me. What are you talking about?”

  “William Kincaid is with the Marshals Service.”

  I frowned, wondering how my dad could joke about something like that when he thought Will was dead. Then I laughed, not able to help myself. Soon I couldn’t stop. I was less likely to believe what my dad had just said than anything else. I would have been more inclined to believe that Will was a leprechaun. When I recovered, I frowned at my dad.

  “Do they have me on some really heavy painkillers, or did you just say that Will is with the Marshals Service. Dad … I saw Will get blown up with my own eyes—and I know he wasn’t a Federal Marshal.”

  “Do you remember what happened Saturday night?”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  “Hold on. What day is it now?”

  “Monday afternoon. You’ve been unconscious for nearly two days.”

  I bit my lip, trying to keep it together.

  “I remember being at the dance with Gen.” I stopped and looked at my dad. “You’re not going to tell me she’s Marshals Service, too, are you?”