Jillian Spectre & the Dream Weaver Page 5

  "If it's a virus, like the computer virus we gave to Jillian's father, will we get sick?" asks Jake.

  "It's not physical, it's mental," says Sebastien. "But when you take that into account with the things you both have been experiencing, it serves to confirm our suspicions."

  "And those suspicions would be?" I ask.

  "That the dream weaver exists."

  It's a beautiful fall day, late in the afternoon, temperatures in the seventies and low humidity. The leaves will be changing soon, the maples bringing color to my favorite month, October, which is just around the corner. It's a perfect day for a walk to clear my head, which currently has all sorts of problems bouncing around like bingo balls. When I shove one concern to the back burner, another moves to the front.

  The streets are surprisingly quiet, the only sounds coming from the dribbling of a basketball at a nearby court. I look ahead and see there's only one guy shooting hoops. Maybe I'll join him. I've got a pretty decent jump shot and I could use some exercise.

  The guy has his back to me, but he's shirtless and what I can see is impressive. His well-defined shoulder muscles twitch with every shot. Each time the ball swishes through the hoop, nothing but net, and comes right back to him. He starts to dribble a bit, tries a bank shot, misses. The ball rolls toward me and he gives chase as I bend down to pick it up.

  When I stand back up I'm face to face with Trip Logan. "Oh, Trip, it's you."

  "Hi Jillian." He reaches down to a bench, grabs a towel, and begins to mop his brow. His chiseled body is glistening with sweat. The sight of him in just a pair of shorts makes me gulp. My original assessment of him as a Greek god was correct.

  "I was, uh, out for a walk."

  He smiles at me as he moves closer and drapes the towel over his neck. "Uh-huh. You know, Jillian, for a girl who needs to avoid me, you sure do seem to run into me a lot."

  "Coincidence."

  "Coincidences are destiny's favorite trick when it comes to romance."

  "I already have someone, Trip. I thought we cleared that up."

  He grabs a bottle of water from his gym bag, takes a sip, and puts it on the bench. "I still can't get that night out of my head, Jillian. That feeling hasn't gone away." He reaches out, tilts my chin up, the way he did at the dance. My pulse quickens as his touch brings the now familiar electricity.

  "Trip, this isn't a good idea. I…I really should go."

  "You don't have to. We're just talking."

  "Talking with you is dangerous."

  "Why? You afraid it might lead to something that you actually want to do?"

  "Trip, I really need to go. Being here is not a good idea."

  He moves a bit closer, locks eyes with me. "You know you're attracted to me, Jillian. We're meant to be together. Why are you fighting it?"

  My heart rate kicks up another notch. "Because I love Ryan."

  He nods. "You may love Ryan. But you want me."

  And I know what he says is true.

  "You know I do things to you that he doesn't." He gently takes my shoulders and pulls me closer.

  His look, his touch, take my breath away and render me powerless. I can't stop myself. My hands come up like they have a mind of their own and rest on his sides, then slide forward as I run them across his washboard abs. The sensation steals my breath and sends fireworks through my heart. "Oh. My. God."

  "Problem?"

  "Not with your body."

  "It's all yours if you want it."

  I'm staring at his abs, his chest, hypnotized by the feel of his muscles. It's like nothing I've ever experienced. "Please, Trip. Let me go."

  He takes his hands off my shoulders and gives me a casual smile. "Nothing's keeping you here, Jillian. You can leave anytime you want."

  My head tells me to leave but my feet seem to be stuck in cement while my hands are busy exploring. They slide up onto his chest, then across his shoulders and around his neck as I look up into his eyes.

  "Thought you were leaving."

  "I really need to go, Trip."

  "So go."

  "I…I can't."

  He licks his lips as he looks down into my soul. "Do you want something?"

  I'm craning my neck as I look up at him. "I do, but…you're awfully tall."

  "I could come down there if you like."

  "You already know I'm not afraid of heights."

  I stretch my arms straight up, like a little girl asking to be picked up. He puts his hands on my sides and effortlessly lifts me up so I'm at eye level. I lean forward to kiss him—

  And I jerk bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, my body covered in sweat. My hand goes to my chest as I try to calm down and slow my breathing. I throw back the soaking wet covers, get up, and head to the bathroom to wash my face.

  First I couldn't tell reality from a dream. Now I can't tell a dream from reality.

  And I have to get Trip Logan out of my head.

  I need help, and I know there is only one place to get it.

  Chapter 5

  "Please come back with some answers," says Roxanne, as I lie down on the couch in the muse office above her family bakery.

  "I'll do my best. You know there's no guarantee I'll run into Carrielle."

  "Well, the only two people you ever saw when we did this are your father and the angel, and since your father is basically out of commission I think the angel is a good bet."

  "Right about that. Okay, let's rock."

  Roxanne goes into muse mode as I focus on her eyes. As before, they turn into diamonds as she locks onto my subconscious and the world around us fades.

  And dissolves into an outdoor carnival.

  I immediately know I'm not going to run into my father, as I see a banner across the midway which reads "Welcome to the 1955 State Fair!"

  I find myself walking a midway as buzzers from old fashioned carnival games and the smells of junk food fill the air. Screams ring out in the distance as a roller coaster rumbles by, while a guy in a straw hat implores me to try and win a stuffed animal at his booth.

  "Welcome, Jillian."

  I turn to see the angel Carrielle behind me. He holds out a cone of pink cotton candy, my favorite fair food when I was a little girl. My eyes light up and for a moment I'm seven years old again. "I'm so glad you came." I take the cotton candy and inhale a bite. "Oh, yeah. Thank you."

  "You have much stress in your life right now," he says, as he walks beside me while eating from a bag of roasted peanuts. He touches my forehead, which is what he does when he gives me peace, and every bit of stress immediately disappears. "I sensed that you needed to relax."

  "That's an understatement. But I need your help, Carrielle."

  He nods as he leads me to the Ferris wheel and hands the attendant two tickets. We both get into the car, the operator shuts the door, and we take flight. "In case you had any desire to take me on a roller coaster, you should know this is the only ride I can handle," I say. "The fast ones make me sick."

  "As I said, you need to relax. This is very peaceful and gives you time to take in nature's glory. It is a particularly beautiful evening."

  The car moves forward as it heads up, then backwards as we move to the top of the wheel. It stops there, offering a spectacular view of the ocean at sunset as the sunlight shimmers on the water. "Wow, that's gorgeous."

  "One of God's daily gifts. So many do not take the time to appreciate it."

  "It is beautiful. But lately I've been wishing I didn't have a certain gift."

  "I understand. It is much responsibility for someone as young as yourself. Alas, we are never given more than we can handle. You are stronger than you think, Jillian. You proved that earlier this year. You were chosen to receive these gifts because you have special qualities."

  "I'm just an average teenage girl."

  He shakes his head and smiles. "You are anything but average."

  "Carrielle, I can't think straight. This dream weaver, or whatever you call it, is playing mind games
with me."

  "Yes, I've been monitoring."

  "So what do you know about Rebecca Cruise?"

  He looks out toward the ocean. "She has powers, though we cannot read them. Much like your father, dark forces surround her and prevent us from getting information."

  "So what's happening to me, Carrielle?"

  "You are being tempted, your love for Ryan tested. Your mind is being manipulated in the direction the dark forces want it to go."

  "For what purpose? I mean, even if Ryan and I broke up, which isn't going to happen, that's not going to send society into the dumper."

  "We can only surmise that she was one of your father's followers, and therefore has a similar objective."

  "Speaking of him, do you know who has accessed his mind?"

  "Dark forces still control him, though he is powerless. But his mind may contain many secrets, perhaps more of his plan to take down society that he never implemented."

  "But his company's gone, the technology failed."

  "One does not need technology to topple society. Words are still the most powerful weapons."

  "I get it. The pen is mightier than the sword."

  "And if this woman is adept at mind control, as she seems to be, then she may be carrying out his original goal in a different way."

  The Ferris wheel starts moving again, faster, the breeze blowing through my red tangles as the salt air fills my lungs. We zip through the bottom of the loop and head skyward again. "Carrielle, I'm really confused. I love Ryan but I'm having these feelings about another guy. Feelings I can't explain. And now he's filling my dreams. He's incredibly attractive and I feel somehow drawn to him."

  "He is obviously the focal point in the plan. She is throwing the biggest temptation she can find at you, to destroy your love. And, probably, your faith. She may be manipulating his mind as well."

  "Well, her plan is working because he's tempting me, all right. And it makes sense that he's being controlled because he's a guy who could have any woman in the world and there's no way he should be interested in me."

  Carrielle gently pats my hand. "You underestimate your attractiveness, Jillian."

  I can't help but smile. "You're very kind. But here's the big problem. I've reached the point where I cannot tell dreams from reality."

  He nods. "Yes, I know. Fortunately, that's one thing I can fix." He touches my hand and a beautiful emerald ring appears on my ring finger. The band is gold and the stone is cut in an oval. "This will always be on your hand when you are dreaming. It does not exist anywhere else."

  "Well, that's no fun. Sorry, I know this is serious."

  "Jillian, when you are not sure if you are awake or dreaming, simply look at your hand. If the ring is present, it is a dream. If not, you are awake."

  "Wow, that's great. Thank you, Carrielle. So what's my next move?"

  The Ferris wheel brings us to the bottom as the ride comes to an end. The angel opens the door and extends his hand. "Come. We have a lot to talk about."

  My eyes flicker open and Roxanne is hovering over me. "Well? Did you see the angel?"

  "Yeah. We spoke for hours."

  "You were out five minutes." She hands me a can of soda to get my blood sugar up, as these sessions always make me a little lightheaded. "Oh, I forgot, time has no meaning there. So what's the deal?"

  I sit up and take a sip of the root beer and let the cold bubbles bathe my throat. "He gave me something so that I can tell dreams from reality. So that problem is taken care of."

  "Good. What about the dream weaver?"

  "Same deal as my father. Can't read her through the dark forces. But it's likely she's a minion of my father. And it's a good bet she might be manipulating Trip as well."

  "So what are we supposed to do?"

  "Defeat her plan."

  "And that plan would be?"

  "We need to figure that out first."

  My stunning new client studies my face as she shakes my hand. She looks familiar. "Don't I know you?" she asks. "Are you in my Modern Lit class at Concord Hall?"

  "Yeah, that's where I've seen you. So, enjoying the root canal of literature known as Moby Dick?"

  "Got the Cliff Notes after the first day."

  "Right there with ya."

  Her name is Aspen, a honey blonde with long straight hair, ice blue eyes and classic high cheekbones. Her sleeveless blouse shows off buff shoulders and cut biceps. She's nearly as tall as Roxanne, close to six feet, with killer toned legs shown off in a short black skirt. A far cry from my usual collection of frumpy desperate housewives. I'm eager to see why a girl who looks like this needs help in the area of romance, as one would think she could have her pick of the litter. I gesture toward the chair and she takes a seat as I slide my seat in toward the crystal ball.

  "So, wondering if you're gonna meet a whaler anytime soon?" I ask.

  She laughs. "Yeah, I'm looking for a guy named Ishmael but there aren't a lot of those on campus. By the way, I love your hair color. Such a vivid red."

  "Thank you."

  "Real or bottle?"

  "I come from a long line of spunky redheads."

  "Well, it's gorgeous."

  "Your hair is beautiful too. So, Aspen, tell me why you're here."

  "Well, I went through a lot of bad relationships in high school and now that I'm around men instead of boys, I'm hoping you might point me in the right direction. Or at least keep me from moving in the wrong one, as I often go for guys who are totally bad for me. I'd like to limit the number of frogs I have to kiss before I find my prince."

  "Sure, I hear ya."

  "And you've gotta admit there are a lot of hot guys on campus. You hooked up with anyone yet?"

  The image of Trip flashes through my mind and I quickly shove it aside. "I'm in love with my high school sweetheart, so I'm off the market."

  "Hey, lucky you."

  "But I do agree there's a serious amount of eye candy wandering around that campus."

  I tell her to ask a specific question, then concentrate on it. I take a mental picture of Aspen, then close my eyes and focus on her. When I open my eyes the crystal ball is fogged but quickly clearing.

  "You see something already?" she asks.

  "Not yet, give it a minute."

  The fog clears, replaced by an image which tells me it's probably December as I see snow on the windows that are bordered with holiday lights. It looks like an expensive restaurant, decorated with a Christmas tree and colorful red and green garland. Aspen is smiling as she eats her dinner. A small rectangular gold package with a red bow is pushed across the table by a man's hand and her eyes light up.

  "Ah, you're out to dinner in a very nice place with a man who's giving you a Christmas present."

  "Can you see who it is?"

  I shake my head. "Not yet. All I saw was a man's hand and a gift box. Give me a minute."

  "Geez, I hope it's a cute guy and not my dad."

  I see her unwrap the gift, revealing a long jewelry box. She opens it and her jaw drops. She pulls out a gorgeous ruby necklace.

  "Well, he has expensive taste. You want me to tell you what the present is?"

  "No way, I like surprises. So who's my sugar daddy?"

  "Don't know yet. Patience, grasshopper."

  I see her hand the necklace across the table as she sits up straight and pulls her hair out of the way. She obviously wants her date to put the necklace on for her. A body in a dark gray suit moves behind her, but I cannot see the man's face. His hands move around her head, then clasp the necklace. She drops her hair as she admires it.

  And then Trip Logan leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

  I asked Ryan to come over and watch TV with me. At least I know the thing about not being able to tell dreams from reality is over. The Cruise Missile won't be able to mess with my head so much. I still have to get rid of that virus she planted in my subconscious, but at least I'm leveling the playing field a bit.

  Ryan is on the couch, back
against the armrest and legs stretched out. His mood is a little better, but he's not back to normal. I know the wheels of jealousy are still turning in his head. I come back from the kitchen with sodas and snacks, place them on the coffee table, then sit on the couch between his legs and lean back. I take his arms and wrap them around my waist. "Just hold me, okay?"

  "Sounds good to me." He tightens his hug and kisses my neck.

  "I have two pieces of good news, Ryan. I talked to the angel today."

  "Oh?"

  "Long story short, I'll now be able to tell when I'm dreaming and when I'm not."

  "Well, that's a relief. So he got Cruise out of your head?"

  "Not that simple, but at least I'll know when she's screwing with me. He gave me a dream sign to look for when I'm not sure. If I see a huge emerald ring on my left hand, I know I'm dreaming."

  "Aw, dammit, now I'll have to return your Christmas present."

  "Hey, give me all the emeralds you want. I do have another hand and several free fingers, you know."

  "What's the other piece of good news?"

  "A certain guy you've been worried about will shortly have a girlfriend. I saw it in a reading I did for this gal who's in my class."

  His grip tightens slightly. "I…I wasn't worried about him."

  I turn around, grab his face and kiss him. "Good, because you never had anything to worry about. I couldn't ask for a better man than you."

  He gives a sheepish grin. "Thanks, Sparks."

  "I know this has been hard on you, Ryan. But please know I love you."

  "I know. I just couldn't bear to lose you."

  "You're in no danger of that. And I couldn't lose you either." I lie on my side, head on his chest and get comfortable as he wraps his arms around me. I close my eyes as I slide one arm under him and hug him, wanting to savor the feeling.

  But all my mind's eye can see is a bare-chested Trip Logan with Aspen the gorgeous blonde. She's taken my place, in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, kissing him.

  And the feeling I have isn't one of warmth from being in Ryan's arms.

  It's one of jealousy. Trip is with another woman.

  I must be dreaming.

  I open my eyes and look at my hand.