Grace Before Dying Read online

  It didn’t work. What was going on here? How is this possible? This was that strange place between awake and asleep, not the dream world at all. Oh, God! The Technicolor dream that I’d seen — that had been an actual dream, but this…

  The fight or flight reaction began building up inside of me and I took a step back. My hands were behind me, my fingers splayed as I reached. For what? I didn’t know; I guess I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to fall down unseen stairs, or down a hole of some kind.

  One step, two steps.

  It wasn’t working. My movement did not put any distance between me and the ghost. That angered me and I had no choice but to face him.

  “You cannot do this. I am not yours to command and neither is Katrina. Are you the one that harmed her? You have to leave her alone! And my cousin! I command you to leave us alone!” I never used that phrase before, ‘I command’… I wasn’t sure that I had the authority to command anything or anyone, but I had to try. I couldn’t just give up. It wasn’t in me to give up.

  “What did you do to Katrina? Why are you here at her house? Did you follow me over here before? Answer me! Answer me now! I am a dream catcher and you have no power over me!”

  An invisible wind swished around me and my freshly straightened hair whipped my face. My pajamas felt incredibly thin, too thin, and the boy slid closer to me. As he approached a sickening feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. Sickening, yes, that’s the word for it. Or a better word would be disgusting — a feeling of revulsion. Everything in me wanted to separate myself from the thing before me. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

  Suddenly, the boy ghost raised his hands in front of his face and wiggled his fingers to show me his dirty nails. Yes, so dirty! As if he dug his way out of a grave. Out of the dirt pit? And then I could smell dirt and smoke. A strange and revolting combination of the two. His eyes remained trained on mine and they were filled with hatred, but why?

  “What is your name?” I yelled at him as the ghost reached for me with those dirty hands and sharp looking nails.

  And out of the air, from somewhere unknown I found his name. His name came into my mind.

  Clarence!

  “Clarence! Stop it!” He growled again as he reached for me. He never wanted me to know his name. He never expected that I would pull it out of the air, or that someone unseen-an ally, would help me and I knew I wasn’t alone. Finally, I knew I wasn’t alone.

  His freezing bony hands were wrapped around my wrist as he pulled me close and grinned in my face. His teeth were black, as was his tongue, and those eyes burned into me.

  You are mine, dreamer!

  His touch was painful, but something else was happening. I could see it! I could see what he didn’t intend for me to see.

  I saw Katrina! I caught my breath, yes I was still breathing and that was a good thing. It was good to be alive! I’m alive, Clarence! You cannot take me. But Katrina…

  “What are you doing?” I whispered as I watched my friend standing at the kitchen counter. A dark brew in her hand, her favorite soda no doubt, but there was something wrong. Her movements were wrong. What I saw was completely and utterly evil. Oh, God! Can this be true? Is this a real dream, or some trick?

  As I peered closer at the scene I could tell Clarence was trying to block me from seeing the truth. In fact, he had released me, but I had hold of him now. Oh how quickly things had flipped. He was growling and threatening me, but my eyes could not see him, I could only hear him, feel him.

  This was further proof that I was not in the normal dream world; to smell, feel, and see- to use all of my senses or almost all of them. No. Not a normal dream. I was in the in-between and anything was possible and everything was dangerous.

  Carrie Jo taught me--my aunt warned me-- to avoid this place and pass through it as quickly as possible. From one dimension to the other, never stay in the in-between. But here I was, whether, through Clarence’s power or my own, I was in that odd place.

  Katrina’s blank expression worried me. Beside her glass of soda was a Mason jar of white powder. My friend scooped a spoonful of the powder into her drink and slowly and methodically added it and stirred it in slowly. She recapped the jar and placed it under the kitchen sink. What was that? With that same empty look, she slugged the soda down. Who does that? Who can drink a soda like that without burping their head off and why in God’s name would Katrina poison herself?

  No! Clarence shouted angrily.

  And just like that Clarence was gone running through the smoke ahead of me. Without thought, I took off after him. What was happening? Was my vision or dream proof that Clarence had influenced Katrina to poison herself?

  Why?

  And as I ran the smoke began to thin and I could see around me. Yes, I was beginning to see my school hallway. It was lined with lockers and the floor beneath me was cold and hard- as it always was on those cold winter mornings. For some reason, it always felt as if the heat did not work in the hallway. It had always been a cold area — even more so now that I was running through it in a dream. Or whatever this was.

  I could hear his footsteps ahead of me. Lockers clattered on either side of me as they swung open and slammed back and forth, back and forth. The noise was atrocious, but I was determined to chase the ghost. To chase him down and demand answers. Why was he trying to kill Katrina?

  “Stop!” I screamed, but the noise was so loud I doubted anyone could hear me. The smoke funneled around me as if it were being pulled into the basement, yes the basement door was wide open. Thick gray smoke sucked down out the door and it shut with the slam.

  Clarence disappeared down the steps right before the door closed. I’d seen him — there was no mistake about that. He was most certainly in the basement. The hallway was clear, many of the lockers and classroom doors stood open, but I was by myself. I could feel that. There were no other entities here. Just me and Clarence.

  What to do now? Well, I had him trapped. There was nowhere he could run I suppose. I might as well finish this thing. I’d seen a little of what happened to Katrina. If I could get my hands on him one more time I was certain I could see more. Everything inside me rejected that idea. The idea of touching Clarence disgusted me, but he had the answers. Either Katrina didn’t remember what she’d done to herself, or she was lying to me. And it was also possible that Clarence was feeding me a false vision, a false memory.

  You know the truth, Lily. You have to tell her; whether she believes you are not is up to her. I stood before the basement door. It was an old-fashioned wooden door with no windows and a heavy doorknob. Before I could consider my next step I heard a voice.

  Let me out! Let me out, please. I didn’t mean to do it. Let me out!

  The boy was trapped in the basement. I reached for the doorknob out of instinct as he pounded and yelled, but I couldn’t connect with it. It was as if I were the ghost and the doorknob was beyond my grasp. But Clarence…

  “Open the door! I can’t do it for you! Open it!” As if he couldn’t hear me he continued his pleas.

  Let me out! I didn’t mean to do it! Come on, you guys. The joke is over!

  A flurry of phantom footsteps coupled with strangled giggles raced past me. How did I miss that? I hadn’t been alone? Someone else had been here. Someone else altogether.

  Clarence continued to pound on the door and beg someone to open it, just as I continued to try to save him. I couldn’t do it. It was beyond me. I could feel my presence and the current plane waning.

  Oh, Clarence! I can’t help you! I stepped back and away from the door, understanding what I was experiencing. Clarence died at the school. A horrible prank had gone wrong and he was the victim. Now he was lashing out at anyone that could see him or feel him. Sensitives, people with abilities like me and Katrina, and by extension AJ and possibly Orr.

  And even as that awareness rose in me I felt myself moving. At first, I believed I was moving out of the dream. That happened at times. When the invisible decide
d you had seen enough it would walk you out. It would push you out and that’s what I thought was happening to me. But I was wrong.

  I was on the other side of the door. And I was pounding on it. Smoke was all around me, smoke and blackness. I banged on the door. My legs were hot, the heat was rising from beneath me.

  I was no longer Lily Stuart, but Clarence.

  Clarence Jordan. They dared me to do this, to set those paint rags on fire and I did it, but then they trapped me. They trapped me and I couldn’t get out. My lungs were burning and my throat felt as if it was on fire. The smoke was too thick. Too thick and I was going to die!

  I can’t die here! I cannot take your place, Clarence! My name is Lily Stuart and I do not belong here.

  I pinched myself furiously. I did all the things I normally did to wake myself from a dream. I clapped my hands and stomped my feet. I screamed my head off, but the door didn’t open and I was still trapped inside Clarence’s body.

  And then I remembered Katrina!

  With all of my being, I shouted her name again and again until my eyes flew open and I was staring into her frightened face.

  And I was alive! I was no longer Clarence. No longer the evil entity that stalked Katrina. I clutched my friend as she continued to shake me awake. I struggled to breathe but managed to pull in deep breaths of fresh air. Katrina’s mother raced into the room along with her brother. I must’ve scared the hell out of them because they looked as if they’d blown through a wind tunnel to get there.

  What do I say to them? I couldn’t apologize, because I was coughing and crying. Mrs. Valentine and Katrina helped me get off the floor. Orr watched us from the doorway unsure what to do. I suddenly felt very sorry for him. He wasn’t the most friendly guy in the world, but he didn’t deserve to be accused of attempting to kill anyone. He only hung around a few seconds and then he was gone. I could hear the staircase squeaking as he went back up to his room and slammed the door.

  I couldn’t face telling Katrina the truth. Not tonight. All I wanted to do was go home. Go home and sleep in my bed.

  “Lily? Dear God! What is going on here?” Katrina’s mother demanded answers, but neither one of us offered any. I was certain Katrina didn’t want to tell the truth and didn’t know everything I knew.

  “I have to go home. Please. Call my uncle. I have to go home. I’m so sorry. But I have to go.”

  Mrs. Valentine sat on the bed beside me with her arm around my shoulder. She patted me in an attempt to comfort me I suppose, but the last thing I wanted was to be touched. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. Not now, not ever.

  Sensing my discomfort Katrina said, “I’ll stay with Lily, Mom. Maybe you should call Mr. Stuart?” Without argument, Mrs. Valentine left the bedroom and went in search of the house phone.

  Katrina squeezed my hand; a curious expression was on her face. “What did you see, Lily? Tell me, please. It was Orr, wasn’t it?” Even as she spoke I knew we weren’t alone. Mrs. Valentine was in the hallway calling my uncle. I could hear her warm pleasant voice trying to explain what was going on, but that wasn’t the presence I detected.

  Clarence was here. He was standing very close to us, on the other side of the bed. He was daring me to tell the truth. Daring me and smiling with his big black grin.

  “Was it him?”

  With all the strength I could muster- and I was completely exhausted at this point- I shook my head and said, “No. It wasn’t your stepbrother. It was someone else.”

  “Who? Who tried to poison me? It was poison, wasn’t it? The hospital was right.” I nodded slowly, but her expression of sheer terror was proof she was not prepared for the true answer.

  “It was someone else,” Clarence growled and I noticed that Katrina shivered. Even though she didn’t see him with her eyes her abilities made it easy for her to tune in to him. Whether she was aware of it or not.

  Oh, God! It wasn’t just that she had abilities. It wasn’t just that Katrina was different.

  Clarence was after her because she was a firestarter.

  A burner — a firebug as she called herself.

  I cried as Mrs. Valentine returned to the bedroom to help me pack. Katrina’s questioning eyes tugged at my heart, but I wasn’t prepared to tell her what I knew.

  But I couldn’t wait forever. No way could I do that.

  Katrina’s life depended on it.

  Chapter Thirteen—Carrie Jo

  You will call me Red Revenge…

  White Fire’s determined face fluttered in my mind, unbidden as I spotted the nearly hidden sign that read Blackberry Lane. No doubt the ghost was waiting for me at Gracefield. And waiting for Amara. I was awash with emotions, some of them not my own. It was the dream catcher’s curse—you were always left with a little piece of the past rambling around in your mind and spirit when your journey back-ended.

  I wheeled into the driveway, the sounds of gravel popping beneath my tires as I eased forward. On either side of the drive were thick woods. Lots of shrubby evergreens, tall pines, oaks, and cedars. If I wasn’t certain that these woods were haunted, I would think it a beautiful place.

  Just imagining White Fire, living here along with all of the others in her tribe. A few hundred years ago much of these woods had been cleared to make room for the Creek — a vibrant and healthy community that vanished as more and more settlers pushed them out. That’s what the history books tell us. But during White Fire’s time, there were no white men here. No European sickness and disease to kill them off in painful ways. Yet, where men and women are living together, there is always controversy. Always strife.

  I had to admit I wasn’t familiar with tribal law in regards to parenting her marriage, but it did seem harsh to separate the woman from her child just because she didn’t want to name the father. I suppose it was easy for me, here in the twenty-first century, to look back in judgment on those living then; but it did seem harsh. To say the least.

  Now none of them remained except the spirit of White Fire. It was a long drive, but I felt anxious and not tired at all. I hadn’t bothered to get a hotel room. I knew I would be staying with Amara; we had intense work to do and there was no telling how long that would take. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few days. I hoped for the former rather than the latter because I wanted to be at home with my family. I had become more and more of a homebody, which would explain my sloppy wardrobe. I spent way too much time in yoga pants as of late.

  But luckily for me, I knew someone who could help me with that — Detra Ann Devecheaux. My best friend had style and then some. I always paled in comparison to her when it came to picking out clothes. I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the three of us, Rachel, Detra Ann and I sported antebellum gowns for an event at Seven Sisters. Rachel and I looked like southern belle rejects while Detra Ann looked like a woman who stepped out of Gone With the Wind.

  We would have to make an outlet mall trip when this was all over with. Maybe I should have told her about my intentions regarding coming up here. Nah, better to protect the ones I loved from the paranormal when I could. But shopping trips? Yep. That’s what I needed. I needed to focus on the mundane things of life. I absently wondered how things were going at my friends’ antique store. I would’ve liked to have been there for her this weekend, but Red Revenge would not be ignored.

  I continued to make my way up Blackberry Lane. Slowly though, as my eyes scanned the woods to my left and right, but for what I couldn’t say. Maybe I was hoping that I would catch a glimpse of the past. More clues as to what happened to the baby and what Red Revenge expected for me. The way my body was reacting; the strange tingling feeling in my mind and the gooseflesh on my arms were clues that dream walking here was a possibility.

  I should give that a try. What was the harm? Amara wasn’t skilled at dream catching-or walking- even though she could become something great. She didn’t enjoy it and I got the feeling that learning to develop those gifts was not something she wanted to undertake. I put the car in par
k and rolled down the window to listen.

  I heard nothing but the creaking of limbs and the occasional skittering of a squirrel or some other small animal running across the leaf-strewn forest floor. Yet the tingling, the unseen invitation, hung in the air. I turned off the car and got out. I walked in front of the vehicle and surveyed both sides of the road. The strongest pull came from the left. The side furthest from Gracefield. Standing on my tiptoes I attempted to look around the bend of the road, but I couldn’t see the house. I knew from experience it was less than a quarter of a mile away. Yet it was out of sight. Odd.

  I left everything in the vehicle, even my phone. I walked up the gently sloping incline into the woods. I wouldn’t go far — not far enough to lose sight of my vehicle. That would be foolish. I had no desire to get lost in the woods today. I hadn’t done my research in regards to the layout of the land. I couldn’t say how many acres surrounded Gracefield and I wasn’t much of a Girl Scout. The occasional camping trip did not qualify me to explore unfamiliar pathways.

  I would only go a few steps. Just a few to get a better feel for the place. To search out the possibility of dream walking in this location. I’d have to bring Amara with me — she was a bigger part of the story than she cared to admit, being White Fire’s descendent and all.