Nevermore (Nevermore #1)

Nevermore (Nevermore #1) Page 73

From somewhere within the woods, Isobel heard a rustling sound and then the whisper of her name. Her head snapped up. In the distance, through the line of trees, a bright light, radiant and ethereal, broke like a beacon through the dimness. Long and slender, the light fluttered beneath the cover of a billowing white shroud, taking shape. Isobel could not help but steal backward glances as they ran. She saw a figure emerge from within the ebbing light—a woman, angelic in form, though her features remained lost in the distance, buried beneath yards of floating gossamer veils.

Reynolds stopped, yanking Isobel to face him. Out of thin air, he grasped a doorknob that appeared just as his hand clasped it. It was as though the door had been painted to blend in with the forest.

“You are her only threat and therefore our only hope,” he said hastily, pulling the door open to reveal rose carpeting and a pink bedspread. He pushed her through and Isobel stumbled over the threshold, into her bedroom. There, in her bed, she saw herself—asleep.

“Learn to awaken within your dreams, Isobel,” he called after her, “or we are all lost.”

Behind her, the door slammed shut.

25

Seeing Double

Isobel stared at the sleeping body in her bed. Her body.

All at once, the digital clock on her headboard twitched to read six thirty a.m. The blaring sound of her alarm erupted, and with it she felt a quick, sharp tug through her middle.

There came a rushing sensation, like the whir of a carnival ride. Her room blurred into smears of color, and then it all stopped too soon in a jarring slam.

She rocketed up in bed, her chest heaving. Wide awake, she stared at the place in front of her door where she had just been, where she had just stood— looking at herself.

Her bedroom door swung open.

“Izzy,” her mother said, leaning in, “I’m glad you’re up on time but really, do you have to go around slamming doors so early? Besides, your father’s already left for the office, so there’s no one here for you to make a statement for. Isobel?” Her tone switched from reproachful to concerned. Isobel tried to focus on her mother’s face, but she couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering over her shoulder to stare down the length of the hallway.

Her mom came into the room and, silencing the alarm clock, placed a hand on Isobel’s forehead. Against her skin, her mom’s hand felt like fire.

“Isobel,” her mom said again, “you look pale. You’re not getting sick again, are you?”

In the hall, Isobel could see yellow light draining out from the bathroom, and Danny’s partially open door.

No trees. No forest. No Reynolds.

26

Freak

“Central control to Cadet Lanley. Do you read me?”

By the time Isobel had reached her locker that morning, she’d come up with a neat and (for the most part) logical explanation for almost everything. The forest had come from Varen’s black-tree CD, the run through the woods had been her subconscious mind reliving her run through the park, and Reynolds . . . well, Reynolds probably had something to do with her dad.

Stick that all in a box labeled “bad dream,” tie it up with a dreaming about dreaming theory, and Isobel thought she had things pretty much figured out. Of course, the only thing she hadn’t been able to play connect the dots with had been the strange white light, the mysterious ghostly woman. Maybe, Isobel mused, it had been a metaphor for Lacy.

The locker beside hers slammed shut with a bang, causing Isobel to start.

“Yeah, hello,” Gwen said, circling a hand around in front of Isobel’s face, as though washing sludge from a window.

“What?” said Isobel. She pushed Gwen’s hand down.

“What my butt! Did you seriously not hear a single thing I just told you? I said, ‘Are you feeling okay?’ You’re all catatonic this morning. And you look a little washed-out.”

Isobel looked away, trying to hide her face behind the locker door. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just didn’t sleep very well.”

Overhead, first bell sounded.

“Hey,” Gwen said, still watching Isobel as though she were examining something in a petri dish. Then her concern softened and melted away, replaced by a wry smile. “Before I forget.” She held out a folded slip of paper with Isobel’s name printed across one side in deep purple lettering. “I only read it once, I swear.”

Isobel gasped and snatched up the note. “When did you see him?”

“Parking lot. This morning. You know, some of us have cars.”

“Don’t rub it in.” Isobel unfolded the note.