Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Uncle Finn’s house is exactly what you’d expect from a lifelong academic—bookshelves lining every wall, stacks of papers covering most every surface, and an eclectic collection of archeological whatsits stuck in whatever space remained.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says, as if this is an unusual state of affairs. He clears a pile of magazines from a chair, then gestures for me to sit as he steps to the wet bar. “I keep meaning to organize, but, well, you know.” He shrugs, glancing helplessly over the chaos around us.
“Your place is perfect,” I say as I snuggle into the worn leather armchair. “Very you.”
I pull the daisy from behind my ear and hold it up. “Thanks for these.”
He smiles, grabbing a highball glass and filling it with water. “Every girl deserves flowers on her first day of college. And I know daisies are your favorite.”
I set the daisy in the glass and put it on the coffee table. “There. Perfect.”
Uncle Finn smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that reminds me of my mother. But that smile is the only trait they’d shared. Where she’d been artistic and driven, Finn is a grounded academic with a weakness for Sci-Fi movies.
“How are you settling in?” he asks, pouring two glasses of red wine and handing one to me. At my raised eyebrow, he adds, “You’re nineteen on a college campus. If I don’t introduce you to moderate, responsible alcohol consumption, who will?”
We share a smile before I take a sip. I’ve had wine before, but nothing that had an actual cork. Or cost more than twelve dollars. This wine, with its nice, rich flavor, is a treat.
I hold the glass up in approval as I give him my update. “I’m settling in fine. My roommate is great. Nice and fun and a little—”
“Eccentric?”
“You got that right.” I frown. “You know her?”
“Only on paper. From what I saw, Tia has a unique perspective on the world. I thought you two would balance each other well.”
“You picked my roommate?” I hear the irritation in my voice and try to tamp it down. “I don’t think that’s on the Official List of Approved Dean Responsibilities.”
“Oh, it is,” he says. “Number forty-three, actually.”
He’s expecting a laugh, of course, but I can’t seem to conjure it.
“What?” he asks, frowning as he studies my face.
“What exactly is her unique perspective?”
“Oh, well, she went to live with her aunt and uncle after her parents died,” he says, then sips his wine. “Her younger cousin suffers from night terrors. Tia knows how to respond when someone wakes up screaming. It seemed like a perfect match.”
I gape at him. There really aren’t enough words. “Gee, Uncle Finn. Why didn’t you just set me up with a nursing student?”
“Don’t be silly. You don’t need medical care. But if you have an episode, Tia not only understands, but knows how to help.” He frowns, studying my face. “What? Don’t you like Tia?”
I want to scream. I literally want to scream. “I adore Tia,” I say slowly. “What I didn’t like was being locked in that damn boarding school. I wasn’t disturbed then,” I say, making finger quotes. “And I don’t need a babysitter now.”
“The boarding school?” He shakes his head, his expression suggesting I’d been speaking Klingon.
“You didn’t want to deal with it. With me.”
“Cora, I talked to the doctors. To the admission staff. To the school psychiatrist. You told them you were traveling to distant worlds where your nightmares were really happening.”
“They were,” I snap, then immediately cringe, realizing I’d gone too far. “I mean the nightmares were happening. But that was because I’d just lost my mother not my grip on reality.”
I blink back tears. “I hated it there. Hated it. But you never even asked. Not once. You signed the forms to trap me there and called it love. And now you’re doing the same thing with my roommate assignment.
Picking the girl you figure can watch over me without freaking out because her cousin has night terrors. ”
“Oh, sweetheart. No. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do back then. I’d just buried my sister, and I knew you had the same disorder and—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “I thought I was helping you. I thought being there would keep you safe.”
“Whatever,” I say, wiping my tears away, then pulling my feet up onto the seat so I can hug my knees. “It’s okay,” I say, even though it isn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “I just—it’s just that I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“Babysit?”
I want to throw my hands up in frustration. “Hello? Picking my roommate based on how well you think she’ll handle it if I wake up screaming?”
“I see.” He’s frowning again. “Do you want me to assign Tia a new room?”
“No,” I blurt, wanting to bang my head against something hard. “Are you kidding? She’s great.”
His frown deepens. “Then everything’s okay, right?”
I take a moment to count to ten. “Yeah,” I finally say to my totally brilliant but practically clueless uncle. “We’re fine.”
And I guess we are. After all, Finn’s just being Finn.
But at the same time, this revelation that my uncle has been planning contingencies for my inevitable failure at school is a stark reminder that I’m not normal. And probably never will be.
“Uh-oh. We’re not fine,” he says with a glance at my face. “Okay, lay it on me some more,” he adds, then sinks onto the sofa.
I look at my wine instead of my uncle. “It’s just—it’s just that I haven’t had an episode in over a month.” That’s a lie, of course, but only if you count today. And today I hadn’t woken up screaming. So yay for me.
“Oh, well, that’s wonderful.” His relief is almost palpable. “What did the trick? Have you adjusted your meds?”
“That’s not the point. You didn’t even ask. You just assumed I’m going to wake up screaming and freak out my roomie.”
I sigh, then shrug. Because, yeah. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. A month without an episode is pretty amazing, but I know I’m not cured. There is no cure. Not unless dying counts as a remedy.
Besides, it’s only been two weeks and three days since my last screaming freak-out. I rounded up.
So, yes. A doozy is coming. I can even feel it brewing, the nightmares poking at me, gathering like moths to a flame.
One day, I won’t have a choice.
One day, my elaborate ritual of caffeine, nap apps with those special sound waves, and sheer, stubborn willpower won’t work anymore.
One day, I’ll have to sleep deep. And the nightmares will be there waiting for me.
“You’re right,” he says. “I shouldn’t have assumed. But Cora, no episodes in over a month? That’s something to celebrate.”
“I know,” I say, not meeting his eyes.
“And?” He waves his hand as if urging me to talk. “New meds? A new doctor? What facilitated the change?”
“My doctor thinks it’s because I finally processed Mom’s death.” The lie slips out easily. No way am I telling Uncle Finn the truth—that since I’m certain my nightmares are premonitions of my own impending doom, doctors are useless.
“It’s been hard,” Uncle Finn says. “I miss Cassie too.” He sits up straighter and aims a finger at me. “If you do have an episode, I want you to call me. Day or night. A sleep disorder is nothing to screw around with. You promise?”
“I promise,” I lie. “But didn’t you lure me here under the pretense of dinner? I’m starving.” I’m not. But I am desperate to change the subject.
He stands, gesturing for me to follow him to the kitchen.
Since the table is covered with academic tomes and clippings, he points to two clear spots at the kitchen island.
We sit there, filling our bellies with some seriously awesome pasta while he clues me in on the quirks of various professors I’ll encounter in my courses.
“Professor Valdez teaches Abnormal Psych,” he says. “Brilliant woman, but if you look away while she’s speaking, she’ll think you’re not paying attention and call you out in front of everyone.”
“Noted,” I say. “Stare unblinkingly like a serial killer. Got it.”
He chuckles. “Maybe dial it back a notch from serial killer, but yes, basically.” He takes a sip of wine, then adds, “Oh, and you might want to introduce yourself. She’s doing some fascinating research on sleep disorders.”
I set my fork down. “Is that why you suggested I take her class? So she could study me?”
“What? No!” Uncle Finn looks genuinely horrified. “I would never use you as a research subject. I just thought, given your condition…”
I focus on twirling my pasta, wishing what I had really was just a condition. Something that could be diagnosed and treated and cured. But Mom warned me—whatever hunts me in my sleep is real and tangible. It killed my grandmother. It killed my aunt, then my mom. And now, it’s coming for me.
But Uncle Finn doesn’t know I’m being hunted. He thinks it’s some sort of fixable disorder shared by all the women in our branch of the family tree since forever.
Part of me wants to tell him the truth. But I don’t. Mostly because I’m afraid he’ll repeat the pattern, only this time he won’t lock me in a boarding school but a mental institution.
So, I just shrug and say, “It’s manageable.”
He studies me for a long moment before nodding and returning to his pasta.
“Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.
” He reaches over and pats my shoulder. “She was my big sis, and I miss her terribly. Sometimes, I even dream that her death was all some giant joke, and she’s going to show up one day and yell surprise, just like she did on your thirteenth birthday. Remember?”
I nod, blinking fast so as not to cry.
“Sorry if I’m the overprotective uncle. I just don’t want to lose you, too.”
“I know. And I promise I’ll tell you if I have another episode.” It’s a lie, of course, but I can tell it makes him feel better.
He’s still in Protective Uncle mode after dinner, and he insists on walking me back to my dorm despite my protest that I’m all grown up and can manage just fine.
“Classes start Wednesday,” he reminds me as we head across campus.
“Oh, thanks. I’d forgotten all about that.”
He nails me with a scowl, but I see the humor in his eyes. “And,” he continues, “the Welcome Fair’s on Sunday afternoon on the main quad. Good way to meet people.”
I tell him I’ll think about it, even though I plan to spend Sunday in the library researching local legends about dreams and nightmares.
St. Augustine has centuries of supernatural lore, and the college library is famous for its occult collection.
Maybe somewhere in the stacks I’ll find a clue about how to keep my dreams from killing me.
When we reach the steps that lead up to Hamilton Hall’s double doors, he pulls me into a quick hug. “Sleep well, kiddo.”
I return the embrace, wondering if he chose those parting words deliberately or if the irony is lost on him. Either way, sleeping well hasn’t been part of my existence since the day my mother died.
As he heads off, I pause on the first step, my body prickling with that strange sensation of being watched. I turn around, then look back toward the quad at the shadows that seem to move and breathe. An illusion, of course. The soft wind whispering through the trees. The moonlight casting shadows.
Another girl might look out at it and think it’s romantic and beautiful.
I think it’s a dangerous web of shadows filled with monsters from my dreams.
Ridiculous, of course.
Except, is it?
A monster from a dream killed my mother. That sounds pretty damn ridiculous. So does the idea that I can go to the realm where those monsters live.
But I can.
So is it any more ridiculous to think that those monsters can move about in this world too?
The idea creeps me out, and I hug myself, as a sudden burst of anger crashes over me.
One letter. That’s all the information Mom left me.
Just one letter that didn’t say much more than be careful in dreams. A letter she didn’t even mean to leave me, considering she’d ripped it to shreds and shoved it in a trashcan.
“A chat would’ve been nice, Mom,” I mumble as I glance around, scoping out the area for lurking mares and telling myself that I’m being silly. If nightmare creatures could live in this realm, surely, I would have seen them by now.
And then—before the monsters hiding in the dark can prove me wrong—I hurry up the stairs and into the building, hoping to escape whatever might be hiding in the shadows—or lurking in my dreams.
My fear fades the moment I’m safely in the entryway, the door shut tight behind me. This is real. This is normal.
Music and laughter drift from the common room, and even though the thing I want most is to hurry to my room, settle against my pillows, and try to recharge with a nap app, I find myself turning toward the party.
I’d promised Tia, after all. And I’d rather sacrifice my chill time than screw up what I think has the potential to be a truly solid friendship.