Jillian Spectre & the Dream Weaver Read online

  I look at Ryan. "Did you get a read on her?

  "Yeah. She was gonna do it," says Ryan. "Today was the day. And damn, is she pissed at me."

  "Yeah, I'll bet. Hell hath no fury like a sex-starved siren scorned."

  "Roxanne would've killed me," says Jake.

  "Nah," I say, patting him on the shoulder, "she would have killed your teacher. She knows you're not in control around the siren."

  "We need to call Sebastien," says Ryan as we all take seats on a large park bench under a huge maple tree. "Jake can't possibly stay in that class. I know Sebastien wanted to keep him there to let her think we weren't onto her, but that ship has sailed."

  "Agreed," I say.

  A woman's scream from across the street makes me whip my head around. "What the hell was that?" A crowd is gathering in front of the campus, with everyone looking up.

  "What's going on?" asks Ryan.

  Jake points up at the roof. "It's a jumper."

  Sure enough, a guy in a business suit is on the roof of the building, right on the edge. I hear a siren in the distance (the police car kind, not the evil bitch from hell kind), growing closer. "I'm not sure I wanna watch this," I say, noting half the crowd has their cell phones pointed at the guy, hoping to capture video of the fall and the inevitable splat followed by the upload to YouTube.

  Jake shades his eyes and squints at the man. "Oh, wow. I know who that is."

  "Who?" asks Ryan.

  "It's the guest speaker from Cruise's class today. Senator Parker."

  I look again at the roof and, sure enough, it really is the United States Senator from New York, Frank Parker. The guy is walking on the edge of the roof, looking down. A few people in the crowd are actually urging him to jump, obviously not valuing the life of a politician.

  The siren gets louder, and a fire department ladder truck pulls up in front of the building. "You think they got a ladder to reach the roof?" I ask.

  The question becomes moot as the Senator sticks his arms straight out in front of him and casually jumps off the roof as if he were diving into a swimming pool. The crowd screams as his body falls. Ryan grabs my head and turns it around so I can't watch and holds me tight, but I can't avoid the sound of the sickening thud as his body slams into a car.

  I start to turn around but Ryan takes my hand and leads me away. "You don't need to look at this, Sparks."

  "I'm sorry I watched," says Jake. "Won't be able to get that image out of my head."

  We start walking toward the other end of the park. "You think this has anything to do with pulling Jake out of there?" I ask.

  "I do," says Ryan. "I think Cruise is showing us what she's capable of."

  The headline blared from the front page:

  RISING POLITICAL STAR FALLS TO DEATH

  New York's junior Senator Frank Parker, one of the up and coming members of the U.S. Senate, took his own life when he jumped off a building in Lower Manhattan.

  Parker, 48, had been in town as a guest speaker for a political science class taught by adjunct professor Rebecca Cruise, herself a former member of Congress and a longtime friend of the Senator. Shortly after the class he apparently made his way to the roof, walked on the edge for a few moments, then jumped off. He fell ten stories and landed on a parked car.

  College student Trip Logan ran to the Senator and said he was still conscious after the fall. "He looked at me like he was really confused, took my hand and asked me ‘What happened?’" said Logan. "Then he closed his eyes and stopped breathing. The paramedics got there a few seconds later but they couldn't revive him."

  Curious last words for a man who seemed to be on the fast track to the White House.

  Cruise said Parker seemed in good spirits during his classroom visit. "He was enjoying the give and take with the class, having fun, and the students really enjoyed meeting an active member of the U.S. Senate. I had no indication that anything was wrong, and I've known Frank a long time. We talk quite often and had planned to have dinner after the class."

  Cruise and Parker had often worked together on bills in Congress during her terms there. "He was a good man and a good friend. The country lost a very bright mind today."

  As for Parker's replacement, his death is too close to the end of his term and therefore filling the seat cannot be done through a special election. Governor Ted Rapter will appoint someone to fill out his term, but obviously will not do so until after Parker's funeral this weekend.

  My hands are shaking as I close the newspaper and put it on the coffee table. Mom is sipping tea, staring out the front window. She's been this way lately, not talking much and looking at nothing in particular, ever since she saw that old photo of my father and Cruise. But this latest development has taken things up a notch. I get up from the couch, walk over to her and slide one arm around her waist. "Mom, I'm scared."

  She nods as she puts an arm across my shoulders and pulls me close. She's still staring straight ahead. "You should be, honey."

  "For God's sake, she killed one of her friends to make a point."

  "She's ruthless. Obviously nothing will stand in her way."

  "Except us."

  "Yeah. Except us." She runs her hand across my hair. "It's a real bitch being a superhero charged with saving the world, isn't it?"

  "Superheroine. A female superhero is a superheroine."

  "Whatever. I prefer to think of you as my kick-ass daughter."

  "I like that. Did you read the whole article? Because I noticed something."

  "Yeah, I read it. Why, what did you see?"

  "His last words. He asked what happened. And now that I think about it, he stuck his arms out and jumped like someone off a diving board. Like he thought he could fly. Would that explain his last words?"

  "It would. If he thought he was dreaming and it was possible to fly." She takes a sip of her tea. "I noticed something too. That guy who saved you, Trip whatsisname was in the story."

  "Yeah, he's apparently a Boy Scout."

  "He still a distraction?"

  I shake my head. "Nah. I fixed him up with a gorgeous blonde after I saw them getting along really well in her reading. Though I'm sure Ms. Cruise will send him into my dreams or try to get us together when I think I'm dreaming."

  "I'm glad he's out of the picture. You've got enough to worry about right now."

  I move around in front of her and see a look I've never seen. Eyes narrowed, filled with hate. "Mom, you okay?"

  "No, honey. I'm pissed off."

  I'm walking on a beach, its sand warm and white as sugar. Waves gently lap the shore, sending cool water onto my feet. Thankfully I'm wearing a hat since the sun is strong and redheads burn very easily. But I'm also decked out in a very skimpy black string bikini; actually a thong. And since I'm not a fan of butt floss (after the great sunburned ass incident of 2011) and don't care to wear anything this revealing, I know something's not quite right.

  I look down at my hand, and Carrielle's emerald ring is there, beautifully reflecting the sunlight.

  Fine, I'm dreaming. No wonder I look like a cheap slut. (Though I must say I do look good.)

  Now, is this a plain old dream or one planted by the dream weaver?

  I'm not sure, so I continue walking down the beach. It's not terribly crowded as I weave my way through the blankets. I hear eighties music in the distance, and the smell of grilled beef wafts by from a family cooking out.

  Then I see Ryan about fifty feet away, propped up on his elbows, looking out at the ocean as he sips a soda. I pick up the pace and he turns to me as I approach, but he's not happy to see me. "Uh…you're not supposed to be here."

  "Why not?"

  His eyes grow wide. "I…uh…"

  "Hey, Ryan!" A female voice cuts through the air. I turn in its direction and see a stunning, ridiculously stacked leggy blonde running toward us. She's spilling out of a bikini top that's about two sizes too small, and Ryan beams as he locks onto her boobs, which are bouncing so much she'd get whiplash in
real life. He stands up to greet her and she wraps an arm around Ryan's waist, then glares at me. "Who the hell is this?"

  I fold my arms and shoot her the death stare. "I'm his girlfriend. He's in love with me."

  Her eyes narrow. "Uh, Ryan's moved on." She turns to him and starts kissing him, then turns back to me. "You can go now." She waves her hand at me like she's shooing a fly.

  "You're the one who's moving on, because you're not real. Get lost." I snap my fingers and the blonde slowly disappears, head to toe, like a digital photo being deleted. "Damn, that was easy."

  Then I take her place.

  Ryan smiles, puts his arms around me, starts to run his hands down my back—

  Then, dammit, I wake up.

  I'm sitting in the back row of Modern Literature class next to Aspen, dreading the next hour of mind-numbing literary whale watching, when Jake slides into the desk on my other side. He's got that devilish gleam in his eye I haven't seen since his bad boy days of wicked practical high school jokes and I know he's going to do something devious.

  I lean over to him and whisper in his ear. "You're not in this class. What are you up to?"

  "Oh, just lightening the mood around here. Ryan told me you'd been depressed lately and needed cheering up."

  "So why did he send you?"

  "He doesn't have this particular skill set."

  "And what would said skill set be?"

  He flashes an ear to ear grin. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

  "Will I enjoy this?"

  "Oh, I guarantee it."

  The bell rings as our ancient Modern Literature teacher, Professor Ball, enters the room and closes the door. (As luck would have it, I found out the guy is retiring after this semester. So I'm stuck in his very last class.) He puts his dog-eared copy of Moby Dick on the desk and grabs a piece of chalk. Ball, who must be close to eighty, has enough wrinkles to tie up a dry cleaner for a day, a shock of white hair, and eyebrows which stick straight out about an inch from his face and remind me of a mountain range. He slides his half glasses down his nose and begins his monologue in a voice that sounds like he swallowed gravel. "Let's discuss Chapter Seven."

  His words fade into the background as Jake gives me a gentle elbow and points to an empty desk on the other side of the room. I look at it, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, then shrug. He taps the underside of his own desk, and now I see it.

  A small CD player taped under the desk.

  My eyes grow wide as I wonder what sort of musical interlude he has planned. I sit up straight for the first time in this class as I don't want to miss this. Before Jake cleaned up his act, his torment of teachers in high school was legendary, so I'm sure he's got something special planned. And since I can't stand this instructor, I'm looking forward to it.

  The teacher starts to write on the board. "Now, what is Ahab thinking at this point of the book?"

  Jake raises one finger, points it at the CD player, and I see a red light turn green. A sound effect fills the room.

  Ba-duh. Ba-duh.

  The class snickers as the Professor turns around. "Did someone have a comment?"

  No one answers. Lips are bitten around the room as students try to keep from laughing, now aware of the fact that the guy who loves the story of the great white whale is not familiar with the theme from the movie Jaws. In-credible.

  Professor Ball turns back to the board. "Is he getting close to the whale?"

  Jake points his finger.

  Ba-duh. Ba-duh.

  "Sounds like the whale is getting closer to him," says a student in the front. The class snickers.

  The teacher stops for a second, shakes his head and continues. "Again, is Moby Dick on his mind?"

  Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-BA-DA-DUMMMMMMM!!!!!

  The class can't hold it in any longer and explodes in laughter. I'm busting a gut, Aspen is doubled over with tears in her eyes and Jake is trying his best to look innocent, hands folded on his desk, sitting up straight.

  The teacher places the chalk on the blackboard ledge. "Where is that infernal noise coming from?"

  BUM-BUM-BUM-BUM-BUM-BUM…BUM!!!!

  The class has totally lost it and will be gone for the rest of the period. Jake quickly uses his powers to free the CD player, zip it around the back of the room and into his book bag.

  The professor slowly moves toward the source of the sound, looks everywhere and can't find anything.

  Everyone is howling, looking at the teacher as he tries in vain to find the source. Jake points his finger toward the front of the room. The projection screen mounted above the blackboard unfurls, rolls down. And what's on it makes my jaw drop as I cover my mouth with one hand. "Oh my God, Jake, you didn't."

  "I can neither confirm nor deny anything. As you know, New York is loaded with graffiti artists."

  Professor Ball throws up his hands. "Well, I give up," he says. He turns to head back to the front of the room and is stopped dead in his tracks.

  A well done drawing fills the projection screen. Captain Ahab's back to the whale, which has its mouth open, ready to nail him in the ass.

  The caption reads, "Bite Me."

  The professor's eyes narrow. "This. Is. Sac-ril-ege!"

  The class continues to howl.

  He marches to the front of the room, rolls the screen back up, turns and glares at the class. "I don't have to take this after fighting in the war!"

  "Which side?" asks Jake. "North or South?"

  The class explodes in laughter again.

  The teacher stares daggers at Jake. (Who, you'll remember, isn't even in his class.) "You children are…impossible!" He heads for the door, leaves the room and slams it.

  Ten minutes later a man in a suit opens the door, asks the graduate assistant to come out in the hall. They talk briefly, then the grad assistant comes back into the room and closes the door. "I've just been told that Professor Ball has tendered his resignation and I've been asked to teach the remaining classes in this course." He moves to the desk, grabs the copy of Moby Dick and holds it up. "Anyone here wanna keep talking about this shit?"

  A chorus of "no!" erupts and he tosses it in the trash.

  “So, since this is Modern Literature, what’s it gonna be? Hunger Games or Harry Potter?”

  Chapter 9

  Mom is staring at the evening news as I walk in the door, which surprises me since she's usually tuned in to either a shopping network or watching one of those Lifetime movies in which the woman scorned gets even. (Roxanne's Sicilian mother has rubbed off on her.) "Come watch this," she says, as I close the door behind me.

  "Why, what's going on?" I look at the screen, filled with the face of a New York fembot anchor-babe. (Personally I think they're all holograms, part of the Borg collective, or Cylons.) The graphic over her shoulder features a photo of the now deceased Senator Frank Parker, with the word "replacement" under the photo.

  "The Governor is appointing someone to fill Parker's term."

  "Already? Geez, he's not even cold."

  "Did you really think politicians are human beings? Besides, I'm sure his soul is on the elevator headed down."

  I've never been terribly interested in politics, and have always thought most politicians are pond scum, so I shrug. "Anyway, why do I care? They're all a bunch of crooks."

  "Wait till you see who it is. Trust me, you'll care."

  I take off my jacket, hang it on the coat rack near the door and slide onto the couch next to her as the video dissolves to a live shot from the State Capitol in Albany. Governor Ted Rapter, a tall, burly guy in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and the requisite jowls that seem to be part of any good-ole-boy politician, steps to the podium.

  And then my jaw drops as a familiar face moves into the shot and stands next to him. "You gotta be kidding me! He's appointing her?"

  Mom slowly nods as college professor and siren from hell Rebecca Cruise flashes a megawatt smile for the cameras. "The good news is your school is losing a dr
eam weaver and a siren as a teacher. The bad news is she's getting political power. Which may have been the plan all along."

  We watch intently as the Governor first talks about the great loss the state and the country have suffered with the death of Senator Swan Dive (who got a nine-point-five from the Russian judge) but insists life goes on and it is imperative that the seat be filled as quickly as possible. Then he introduces Cruise, highlighting the fact that she has already served in Congress, knows the lay of the land in Washington and holds the same basic beliefs as the Senator she killed by convincing him he could fly and sending him head first into a Chrysler minivan.

  She steps to the podium, greets the crowd, then talks about her plans for the future. Her smile morphs into a serious look. "I have to say I'm not happy about the reason I'm here today. Frank Parker was an old and dear friend and I've been devastated by his loss. But since we've always been on the same page politically, I'll do my best to continue the work he started, and always keep him in mind when introducing new legislation. Those who voted for him should know very little will change." She concludes her short remarks, takes a few questions, then turns things back over to the governor.

  Mom hits the mute button when the story ends.

  "Mom, do you think all this was set in motion when Ryan pulled Jake away from her? So she could make her point?"

  "Could be. She may have realized she'd been outed and had done all the damage she could do. She's already done something to your head and probably knew seducing Jake was off the table. So she moved onto Plan B."

  "Just like that? She decides to kill someone in a few minutes? Someone she says was a close friend?"

  "These people play hardball, sweetie. That guy was just collateral damage. Your father had no respect for human life, why should any of his followers? Besides, she's killed before, so this is nothing new for her."

  "So what do we do now?"

  "Not sure. I think the next move is hers. It may be in our best interest to see what she's up to."

  "If she can affect the public with song via the television, all she'd have to do is sing."

  "She doesn't have to affect the public. If she can control the media, that may be all she needs because people are a bunch of sheep who believe whatever they see on TV. Baa, baa, baa. And it might be a stronger strategy than what your father had with that cell phone. Or…"