Jillian Spectre & the Dream Weaver Read online

  The ring isn’t there.

  Chapter 6

  So I've made a new friend. Aspen, my client from the other night who is going to take Trip Logan out of the picture with her supermodel looks, sits next to me in the back row of Modern Literature class. Everyone hates this professor, as he's nasty and constantly makes cutting remarks to any student who doesn't "get" the deep hidden meaning of a guy who wants to harpoon and kill a beautiful creature. Aspen's been cracking me up with her little notes and facial expressions as the ancient professor (who may have actually served under Captain Ahab) drones on endlessly about the great white whale. Reminds me of the first time I saw Titanic at home and yelled, "Just sink the damn boat!" after three hours of Leo and Kate making eyes at each other. I really wanted to interrupt the class and yell, "Just harpoon the damn whale!" but, ya know, I've read the Cliff Notes and need a decent grade.

  The bell thankfully ends the monotone monologue and the class flies out of the room like the people escaping from the theater in The Blob.

  "That class makes me want to slit my wrists," says Aspen, as we head into the hallway.

  "I was thinking for my term paper I might re-write the ending, and have the whale swallow Ahab, kinda like the great white shark got Quint in Jaws. Then have a policeman blow the thing up with a rifle."

  "I like it."

  "How do teachers like that keep their jobs?"

  She shakes her head as she pops a bubble with her gum. "Maybe he slept with someone in power. You know, back in 1930."

  I like her immensely. She's incredibly smart and witty, not what you'd expect from such a serious babe. An airhead former prom queen or head cheerleader, she's not. A guy would refer to her as a total package. I'm counting on that. I mean, if Trip found me attractive he should go crazy when he sees Aspen.

  We turn a corner and I see Trip Logan heading in our direction at the far end of the hall. Think fast. Time for a preemptive strike. "Hey, Aspen, you know the guy I saw you with in the reading?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You wanna meet him?"

  "Of course. I thought that was a given."

  "I meant, right now." I cock my head in his direction. "He's headed this way."

  Her eyes widen as she looks down the hall and checks out the prospects. "Really? Which one?"

  "Passing the water fountain. The huge guy in the red shirt who is off the charts hot."

  Her jaw drops slightly as she spots Trip. "You gotta be kidding. That's the guy I'm ending up with?"

  "Yep. Not exactly chopped liver, huh?"

  "Wow. Damn, he is smoking hot. And I like 'em tall."

  "C'mon, I'll introduce you."

  She stops and grabs my forearm. "Wait…you know him?"

  "Yeah. Met him a couple of weeks ago. He's a really nice guy."

  "But…are you supposed to do this?"

  "Hey, I read the future. Who's to say I'm not supposed to be the one to hook you guys up? C'mon, let's get the ball rolling."

  She looks down at her outfit: skinny jeans that show off her mile long legs, boots and a tight red sweater. "But I'm not even dressed. Maybe we can set something up when I'm in a skirt."

  "Trust me, girl, you'd stop traffic in a burlap sack." I take her arm and lead her down the hall. "Let's go. He'll love you. Then you can really knock his socks off when you go out."

  "Okay, but you know what they say. You only get one chance to make a first impression."

  Trip spots me when we're a few feet away. He nods, doesn't say anything, then looks away. He's keeping his word to avoid me.

  "Hey, Trip," I say, as he's about to pass.

  He stops, gives me a puzzled look. "Hello, Jillian." He quickly looks around, probably wanting to make sure Ryan isn't nearby. "I thought—"

  I grab Aspen's arm and pull her toward him. "Listen, I wanted you to meet my friend Aspen. She's a nice girl, you're a nice guy…I thought you two might hit it off."

  He extends his hand, shoots that incredible shy smile and her face flushes. "Pleasure, Aspen."

  "Yeah, uh-huh," she says, going into a trance, the gum nearly falling out of her mouth.

  "Maybe you two would like to go for coffee," I say. "Or lunch."

  His eyes take a quick inventory of her body and I can tell he's interested. "Are you free?"

  "I can be free," she says, turning to me and smiling. "What the hell, Economics class is overrated. Take notes for me?"

  "You got it." I'll actually have to pay attention, but it's a small price to pay. "You two have a nice time. Gotta run."

  "Thanks, Jillian," says Trip.

  "Really," says Aspen, as she shoots me a wink.

  I head down the hall with a big smile, knowing I've finally taken that hunky bit of temptation off the table. Take that, dream weaver.

  As I reach the end of the hall I turn, just in time to see Trip take Aspen's arm and lead her out of the building.

  And my heart drops as the green eyed monster rears its ugly head.

  I'm surprised to see Fuzzball walking out of the amphitheater classroom. "Hey, Detective, what are you doing here?"

  He puts an arm around my shoulders, pulls me off to the side and lowers his voice. "Bugging a certain classroom."

  "Isn't that illegal?"

  He gives me that look-the-other-way New Yorker wide-eyed face. "Seriously, Jillian?"

  I playfully slap the side of my face. "Sorry. What the hell was I thinking?"

  "Look, Sebastien already had a couple of mind readers in the class and got nothing from her. So I borrowed some surveillance gear from my friend at the FBI. I got a couple of video cameras in there. A United States Senator is going to be a guest speaker in the near future and the school thinks I'm just here doing a security sweep. Anyway, we want to compare what this teacher actually says to what Jake thinks he hears."

  "I don't understand. If the mind readers got nothing—"

  "They may have been under her influence being in the same room."

  "Why, were they both male?"

  "Nope, one guy, one gal. But she still could have been using the dream weaver thing on the woman. Anyway, she can't meld with technology, like your father could, so this will give us a better look at what she's doing."

  I nod. It makes sense. "So what's the plan after you record her?"

  "We're all meeting at your house tonight. So round up Ryan, Roxanne and Jake and I'll be by with the tape at seven."

  Ryan calls and tells me his subway train is stuck and to start without him. Fuzzball has the video cued up on our television, while Mom and I stand in the back of the room sipping hot chocolate. Jake and Roxanne are holding hands on the couch. "Ryan's stuck on a train," I say, as I hang up. "He said not to wait 'cause he has no idea when he'll get here."

  Fuzzball nods, sits in the recliner and points the remote at the television. "Okay, let's see what we've got." The video gives us a split screen view of the class; one camera is set up in the back of the room while the other is behind the teacher's desk. Students file in and take their seats, half engaged in loud conversation while the other half are obsessed with their cell phones. Their chatter subsides as Rebecca Cruise enters the room, shuts the door, moves to the desk and slides her briefcase onto it. All is quiet as she pulls out a laptop and connects it to the projector, humming a tune as she does this.

  The men in the class all sit up straight while their eyes glaze over.

  "What the hell?" says Mom. "She's hasn't even said anything yet."

  And then I see it.

  Fuzzball and Jake sitting up straight with the same look as the students on the tape. I take Mom's arm. "Mom, look at the guys."

  "Yeah, I know. The whole class is in a trance."

  "No, I mean the guys in this room. Look at their faces."

  Mom moves around to the front and takes a closer look at Jake and Fuzzball. Both are wide-eyed and riveted to the screen as Ms. Cruise launches into her radical manifesto. Both nod slowly as she makes her point.

  Roxanne waves her ha
nd in front of Jake's face. "Earth to Jake!" No reaction. He doesn't even blink. "He's in contact with the mother ship."

  "And apparently she only affects men," I say.

  Mom takes the remote from Fuzzball and pauses the video, which seems to jolt the guys back to reality. Both start to blink quickly as they shake their heads.

  "What's wrong, Zelda?" asks the detective.

  "Something happened to you and Jake."

  "What are you talking about?" asks Jake. "We were just watching the video."

  "We should have had a camera on you two," says Mom. "You both became deer in the headlights once she started, same as the men in the video. Tell me, what was the teacher talking about?"

  "Just some patriotic stuff," says Jake. "How she loves America, how we should do all we can for our country. And she has some assignments for us to prove our patriotism."

  Fuzzball nods. "Yeah, same here."

  Mom shakes her head. "Not exactly. Rox, what did you hear?"

  "It was pretty radical," she says. "She wants to crash the system. She's as anti-America as you can get."

  "Jillian?"

  I nod. "Same deal."

  Fuzzball's face tightens. "But this is video of her. She's not in the room. Jake has been close to her but I haven't. Why would it affect me?"

  "And why does it only affect men?" asks Roxanne.

  Mom stands up straight as her eyes widen. "Oh my God!"

  "What, Mom?"

  "She's not just a dream weaver," says my mother. "She's also a siren."

  "A what?" asks Jake.

  Fuzzball nods. "Zelda, that makes perfect sense."

  "So what's a siren?" I ask.

  Mom heads for the kitchen to get her encyclopedia of paranormal powers, talking as she goes. "It's from Greek mythology, but in this case it's not a myth. There have been a few documented cases." She returns with the book, flipping through the pages. "A siren is a woman who can hypnotize men with her song. And make them do whatever she wants."

  "And this is bad…why?" I ask.

  "Let me download that song to my iPod," says Roxanne, smiling at Jake.

  "Stop kidding around, you two. The siren is a mind controller. She can also do it with her voice," says Mom. "But the song is the most powerful. You notice she was humming when she entered the classroom and all the men went into a trance. And so did the men in this room."

  "Makes sense," says Fuzzball. "So she has two powers, like Jillian and her father."

  "Obviously," says Mom. "Two incredibly strong powers. If she doesn't get you with one she can nail you with the other."

  "Or, in some cases, both," says Fuzzball.

  "So what's the legend say?" I ask.

  Mom reads from the book. "Sirens could basically hypnotize sailors, make them believe things that weren't real and send them off a cliff. They're also known as the muses of the underworld."

  Roxanne sits bolt upright. "Whoa, wait a minute. They're muses?"

  "Not exactly, as their definition of inspiration isn't exactly in Webster's, since they can only inspire people to kill themselves. However, according to legend, the sirens had a war with the muses, and were defeated."

  Roxanne cracks her knuckles. "So I'll just kick her ass and we'll be done with the bitch. I'm a muse. I rule."

  "Probably easier said than done," says Mom. "She could still get to your dreams."

  "So, she can't affect women?" I ask.

  "Not as a siren. But she's still a dream weaver, so none of us is immune. However, it does give the women a little advantage in that she can only use one of her powers against us."

  "Well, she can't use either against me, thanks to Carrielle," I say. I look at Roxanne and her face tells me the Sicilian revenge wheels are turning in her mind. "Now don't go all Michael Corleone on us. We need to work out a plan."

  She gives me her wide-eyed innocent girl look and points at herself. "Moi? Would I fly off the handle and exact revenge on someone who is screwing with my boyfriend's head without thinking it through?"

  "Yes," we all say in stereo.

  Jake pats her on the knee. "Gotta love her attitude, though. Ready, fire, aim. That's my girl."

  An hour later after we've all had a crash course in Sirens 101, Ryan arrives. "Sorry I'm so late, guys."

  I walk over to him and give him a big hug as he kisses me. "It's okay, we figured it out. And we need you to test something."

  I explain the whole thing about sirens and how Jake and Fuzzball went into a trance once Cruise started humming.

  "So," says Ryan, "if you guys already figured it out, what do you need me to do?"

  "Have a seat," says Mom. "We're gonna try a little experiment."

  "Sure."

  Roxanne and Jake scoot over as Ryan and I sit on the couch. I take his hand. "Okay, watch the TV."

  Mom fires the remote. The video is cued up to where we left off, and the teacher continues her radical spiel.

  Ryan doesn't react. "Okay, she's a left wing whack job. We already knew that."

  "She didn't seem patriotic to you?" asks Jake.

  He furrows his brow. "You kidding? You thought that was patriotic? She sounds like she wants to blow up the White House. I'm amazed they let her teach at the college."

  "Hang on a minute," says Mom. "We're not done. I think I've figured this out." She points the remote at the television, backing the video up to the beginning, then hits the play button.

  The moment Ms. Cruise starts humming, Ryan sits up straight and develops the same hypnotic look we saw on Jake and Fuzzball. Mom lets the video roll for a couple of minutes, then stops it.

  "I guess I misjudged her," says Ryan, still in some sort of trance. "She's quite the patriot."

  "What did she say specifically that makes you say that?" asks Mom

  Ryan shrugs. "I don't know. I just know I like her and she loves this country. And wants me to show my patriotism in specific ways."

  "That's it," says Mom, tossing the remote on the coffee table.

  "What?" I ask.

  “It’s her song, not her voice. She needs music to put men in a trance.”

  Chapter 7

  I take a sip of the richest chocolate malt in New York City. "This is nice of you. But you didn't have to buy me lunch."

  "Hey, if it weren't for you I wouldn't be dating a terrific guy," says Aspen, picking daintily at her grilled chicken salad.

  I point at her lunch, which seems an odd choice for a throwback fifties diner. The deep-fried air of the place almost commands you to order something unhealthy, like my bacon cheeseburger. "That all you gonna eat?"

  "I look at a French fry and gain five pounds. That's why I do weight training. I have a really slow metabolism."

  "Bummer," I say, as I grab my burger and take a huge bite. "So, I take it you and Trip are hitting it off."

  She flashes a naughty smile and both eyebrows go up. "You might say that."

  "I might?"

  "No, you can. We have a lot in common and a great time when we're together. He is such a gentleman. So old fashioned. Holds doors open for me, walks on the outside of the sidewalk. Chivalrous, you know?"

  The memory of being carried to the infirmary flashes through my mind. "Actually, I do. So, things getting serious?"

  She shrugs. "Jillian, he's one of those guys who moves slowly. And I sure don't want to chase him away so I'm playing along. I mean, damn, what a catch."

  "Yeah, he does seem like the total package."

  She looks around to make sure no one's listening, then leans forward. "I have a confession to make. I did something a little naughty the other night."

  "Really? Do tell."

  "Well, my parents have an apartment in Manhattan and they were out of town, so I brought him back there after we had dinner and went to a movie. Then I used one of the oldest tricks in the book."

  "And that would be?"

  "I spilled a drink on his shirt."

  I suck down the remainder of the malt, which is so damn good I m
ake that supposedly embarrassing sucking sound with the straw. "Not sure I've heard of that one."

  "Well, I was dying to see him with his shirt off and so I made sure he needed to change."

  "Hmmm. Very clever."

  "Anyway, I apologize profusely and offer to wash his shirt. He doesn't want to sit there soaking wet so he takes it off and I throw it in the washer on the slowest cycle. Oh. My. God. Jillian, you have never seen a body like the one on Trip Logan. It's like some artist drew him."

  "Yeah, I kinda figured with those arms the rest of him would be pretty good."

  "The boy is ripped. Two hundred and forty pounds of solid muscle."

  I furrow my brow. "What'd you do, weigh him?"

  She shakes her head. "Nah, he told me he's captain of the college wrestling and weight lifting teams so I looked him up on the Internet after he left. And some of his wrestling matches are on YouTube. He absolutely destroyed his opponents and he's undefeated. And he holds all the school weight lifting records."

  "Well, he is a big boy."

  "But I tell ya, it broke my heart when the buzzer on the dryer went off. That was ninety minutes of pure eye candy. And I love the fact he's six-five…I can wear heels around him. Had to wear flats with my last boyfriend."

  "Well, I'm happy for you. And I know he's got to be attracted to you just as much."

  She shrugs again. "I sure hope so."

  "What, really? Aspen, you're gorgeous. Women would kill to look like you."

  "Oh, there's definitely a physical attraction between us. But I can't help but get the feeling he's still hung up on someone else."

  I catch up with Roxanne in the coffee bar. She's riveted to a book as I slide my drink onto the table and crane my neck to look at the cover.

  "History of Greek Mythology, huh?"

  "Well, Kicking the Ass of a Siren for Dummies was out of stock."

  "So, what's it say?"

  "Some of the things your mom talked about. A bunch of legends. Useful things I need to know. And there's a lot of stuff about the war between the muses and the sirens."

  "The muses won, right?"

  "Yeah, they kicked butt."

  "How did they do it?"

  "Apparently it was the equivalent of a sing-off. American Idol smackdown for mythological creatures. Anyway, the sirens and muses held a singing contest and the muses won." She looks at the book. "Then, and I love this part, the muses plucked the feathers from the sirens and wore them as a trophy."