Angel Dreams (An Angel Falls Book 2) Read online

  “To those bushes,” he says as he moves back into step behind me.

  The sun has dropped behind the mountain peak to the west but for now there is just enough light to see where I’m going. We head across the small clearing away from where the car is parked and across the narrow 4x4 road toward the scrub. It’s a gradual downhill trek, but the farther we walk the steeper it gets. I think Corrine is off to my right somewhere, amidst all the old mines and piles of rock, but that’s only a guess. I’m not sure if I want her to return safely or not. If she comes back quickly, then Travis will have what he needs for whatever terrible plans he has, but on the other hand, her company and knowing she is safe would be somewhat relieving. Maybe she went to find help?

  A light breeze blows down from the mountain side. Strands of hair tickle my face. I want to brush them away, but I don’t want to make any unexpected movements and anger Travis. Besides, I’m not sure if I can unglue my hands from each other. I’ve been gripping my injured hand, afraid to let off the pressure and now I’m not sure if I can let go. My pinky throbs and I feel the sticky blood drying on my hand. I shift my head slightly letting the next breeze move my hair away from my face. That’s when I hear the water.

  In front of me is a wall of willows, tall with age and dense with summer growth. Their familiar leafy scent hits me and makes me want to weep for another time and place, when being by a river was fun. I stop not sure where I’m supposed to go next.

  “Right,” Travis directs.

  I walk along the bushes and when there is a break in greenery he says, “Find the river.”

  Pushing my way through the dense brush, I head straight for the water. I can tell it’s close, but I can’t see it. The sound of rushing water over rocks grows louder and the air is crisp. The shrubs thin out onto a rocky patch of ground. I pick a careful path across the loose river stones to the next group of tall bushes and squeeze myself into a narrow opening. Reaching a hand out to spread some of the branches and thinking that the water should be visible, I’m not mistaken. Unfortunately the ground also drops away a foot in front of me. It’s not a very high cliff, but higher than I would want to fall off of. It’s too steep to climb down in the dimming light. My right foot is close to the edge so I take a step back.

  “Keep moving,” he orders.

  “There’s a drop-off,” I say.

  He pushes past me and spreads the screen of branches. As his eyes narrow, I get the distinct impression he’s considering pushing me over. I move a couple of steps to my right, wedging myself into the branches of a dogwood. I can tell by looking at the land that the riverbank is not as steep upstream as it is down. Corrine had also gone that way. Travis stands still and silent for a minute as if he’s considering something. I swear I can feel his menacing thoughts shift. He’s not happy about changing direction, but he’s going to do it anyway.

  “Move up river, wench.”

  A distant memory nags at me as I push on through the next cluster of bushes. The feeling is like a tap on the shoulder. I try to dissect what is needling its way into my head. I just felt his shift of thought. Why is that important? I always know when people have direct thoughts about me, not that I know what those thoughts are exactly. Is Travis like Chris? My shaman friend has the uncanny ability to read my mind like an open book. And he told me I can shield myself from it. That’s it!

  Chris was trying to teach me how to protect myself, how to put up a mental shield to keep him from reading my thoughts, and to protect myself from evil. Like from Travis and his Night Terrors. A twinge of hope surges through me at the idea that I can do something to help myself. My little boost is instantly followed by a dose of fear and doubt. Will Travis know what I’m doing? Will he punish me for trying to block him? No, Jules. Don’t go there. You have to try anything. Chris also said the Steller’s jay may be telling me to use my power or watch for someone using it against me. Even if Travis does know what I’m doing, it may still help. And any help against him and his demons is better than nothing. Timing is another thing. The jay bird was also pretending to be something it’s not by screeching like a hawk, to fool and distract its rivals. This detail seems important, but I don’t understand why or how I can apply it. Then I hear my teeny-tiny inner voice say, “Trust yourself to know when to use your power and when not to.” I take a deep breath filling my lungs with the cool mountain air. Trust myself.

  After trudging farther upstream the ground levels out. I push my way out onto a stone covered beach and wait for my next order. It takes him only a second.

  “Strip. Then cleanse yourself in the water.”

  I don’t follow his orders. There’s no way in Hades I’m going to take my clothes off for this psycho. My soul may suffer and my life may be in jeopardy for refusing him, but isn’t it anyway? He’s going to have to kill me. Then it won’t matter what he does to me, right? Or, will it. Look at Nathaniel. Goose bumps ripple over my skin.

  “You will obey me. Take off your clothes and clean yourself in the river.”

  Turning very slowly, I’m ninety percent certain I’m about to commit suicide, but the other ten percent is stubborn enough to stand up and refuse. “No. Kill me. Then do what you want.”

  He takes a step forward as if he’s about to make good on my suggestion and I take two steps back. Movement catches my eye. The woman wearing the dark green hood is in the willows behind Travis. I suck in my breath. I think I know who she is. Her long blonde hair shines around the edges of her hood and her profile looks familiar. It has to be her. Travis spins around and the Angel of Death, Harmony, disappears into the night.

  Travis turns back to me and his searing anger is enough to make me cringe. I think I can hear the blood vessels bursting with the rise of his blood pressure. His hand reaches around to the side of his pack and he grabs the handle of a silver dagger. It’s not long but very sharp, and his intent is clear.

  “Undress and get in the water,” he says. He sounds calm, but I can tell he’s starting to lose it.

  “I’d rather die,” I say as my feet stumble backward over the rocks toward the river.

  “You must be clean for the ceremony,” he says. His Terrors are practically on his back and look like they are a second from coming around and attacking me.

  “You wash or I’ll make your boyfriend my prisoner for all eternity.”

  A flash of Nathaniel’s gorgeous face, pained and miserable with helplessness as he sits in the back seat of my car floods my mind. He’s more precious than the air I breathe. I know he would never want me to give in to this bastard. My doubts suddenly slip away with the current flowing behind me. The night becomes perfectly clear and I see myself standing in the middle of the mountains next to a river with a warlock and his Night Terrors. An Angel of Death wearing a green cloak waits nearby. A Steller’s jay flies by screaming like a hawk on a kill. I suddenly know exactly what I have to do. Be a great pretender. Play along. And when my opportunity comes, grab it by the horns and ride like a bat out of Hell.

  Chapter Twenty-one: Soul Stealing

  Juliana

  I slowly reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. Travis quits advancing on me, so I continue and unbutton my shorts. Stepping out of them, I leave my shoes on and hope he doesn’t insist on taking them off as well. With my shirt and shorts in a heap on the ground I back into the river until I’m up to my ankles, underwear and bra securely in place.

  “Surround her,” Travis says in a hiss to his Night Terrors.

  They’re quick to move in and then I have nowhere to go.

  “Scrub your body with the sand,” he says while brandishing his dagger at me. “All over,” he adds.

  Backing up to my knees first, I try to ignore the ice cold temperature. Middle of summer or not, the runoff up here is still snow melt. I scoop handfuls of water over my bare skin until I am wet from shoulders to toes. I follow this with handfuls of the sandy river bottom, letting the larger pebbles and stones filter through my fingers and rub the mu
ck over my skin while clenching my jaw and trying not to scream, cuss, or cry.

  “Wash your hair,” he demands.

  I was trying to avoid this. The tips of my waist length hair are already wet from bending down, but it isn’t soaked by any means, and I really wanted to skip getting my head wet for the sake of freezing to death. Dipping low, I let the mass of my hair fall into the water. It flows with the current creating black ribbons among the stones. I give it a few good swishes, making a show of my effort. Standing up, I wring it out, holding it away from my gooseflesh covered skin.

  Travis stands three feet in front of me watching my every move. I look him directly in the eyes and think, Am I finished, you crazy freak? Then I brace myself for the order to remove my shoes, socks, and underwear, but he doesn’t say so.

  “Get out.”

  Stepping out of the river, I try to make as wide a pass around Travis, but he grabs my arm, and squeezes it hard enough to bruise as he pulls me close to him.

  “Don’t move until I say to,” he says and then drops my arm.

  My clothes are almost within reach. All I would have to do is take a giant step to the right and bend down to get them, but I’m sure he meant not to even move that much. The Night Terrors stand close enough that I can feel their misery and pain. It seeps out of them like vile fumes. Holding the frayed ends of my sanity together is becoming increasingly more difficult, especially since I’m freezing, but I will myself to keep it together. I have to. Jared needs me. My family needs me. I need me. And for the suffering Nathaniel has endured, I won’t give into this S.O.B. If only the demon wasn’t blocking my way to my shirt and shorts, then I could at least have a chance to escape death from hypothermia. It currently seems unavoidable, so I wrap my arms around my torso and shiver through the numbing cold.

  The daylight has left us behind. The shadows have turned to black and everything else is shades of gray beneath the stars and the moon. Travis’s movements are swift and purposeful as he takes off his backpack and removes a square black cloth. He spreads it on the ground and then lays out a couple of bottles, the dagger, and a silver lighter. His eyes dart every direction like startled minnows in a stream. He’s keeping watch but he obviously isn’t letting anything stop him.

  Standing up, he quickly undresses, boots, socks, black pants, black button-up shirt, everything except his briefs. He glances around our beach, stares at the screen of willows, and then grabs one of the bottles from the ground. Facing the water, he seems oblivious to my presence as he begins his maniacal ceremony.

  “I ask for protection. In return I will honor thee,” he says in a deep monotone.

  He pumps the spray bottle quickly, covering himself in the mist. He spends extra time covering his face, head, and underwear. It takes only seconds and then he grabs the second bottle. He sprays only his chest, back, arms, and legs. A chemical smell fills the night air. I hold my breath, afraid to inhale any of the vapors.

  “For fire shall cleanse me of all impurities and water will wash them away.”

  The next thing I know, Travis flicks his lighter. A tiny orange light in the dark becomes a raging whoosh of flame as his entire body lights up. I jump out of the way, feeling the wave of heat hit me. It’s a mistake because I accidently touch one of the Terrors. An icy burn seers my shoulder and I reach up instinctively to cover the spot with my hand. My shoulder feels intact.

  Travis growls like an unearthly wildcat. I hear the tink of the lighter as it hits the rocky beach. Then Travis walks into the river. He holds his arms out, parallel to the ground, and looks like a burning cross. He seems to vanish into the flowing depths of the river, the fire dying with his disappearance.

  My heart races and my breath is thready. This is my chance. I throw an invisible shield of steel walls around myself and picture the inside of the walls filled with the brightest white light I can imagine, brighter than the sun at mid-day. But before I can take one step toward freedom, an extraordinary thing happens. The angel, Harmony, appears from the bushes. She looks me right in the eye and winks.

  “Come and get me,” she says.

  It takes a millisecond to figure out she’s not talking to me. The Night Terrors fly passed me so quickly that I’m only partially aware of their absence. Then I make a run for it in the opposite direction. In the distance I hear a female scream, loud and piercing, and so terrible that my heart clenches into a rock inside my chest. I rip a path around, through, and over the willows and rocks and then I am stopped short as I feel my head jerk back in an agonizing whiplash.

  A scream tears from my throat and then I feel his hand over my mouth.

  “Nice try, Siren,” Travis says as he yanks even harder on my hair.

  His breath is hot on my ear. His body is cold and wet and I feel an oily slick rub off him and onto me. I want to cry and give up, but I don’t have that luxury as he drags me by my face and hair back to the little rocky beach. I realize I hadn’t even made it twenty feet. He must have been coming out of the water before I took my first step.

  Travis jerks me down to the ground as he kneels next to his backpack. I fall down on my knees and hands panting, my insides roaring with adrenaline. As soon as he releases me I scramble away from him, but it’s a weak attempt. He reaches out, snagging my ankle and pulls back hard so I land on my stomach, rocks digging into my body.

  “If you would behave yourself, I wouldn’t have to tie you. Why don’t you make this easier for us both?” he says.

  “Screw you,” I say as he wrestles my arms behind my back.

  “Every time you resist, I will take another finger nail. If that doesn’t work, I will start taking toes. They’re useful, so don’t tempt me.”

  I feel the rope he’s using dig into my wrists. Then he is off my back, putting his clothes on, and packing up his things.

  “Walk back to camp or lose your toes,” he warns.

  I turn my head, looking away and wishing for something, anything to make this all go away. My limp concert T-shirt lays five feet away. The name of my favorite band glows under the light of the moon. Almost exactly one year ago Jared and I had driven to Red Rocks to see the show. The tickets were his graduation present to me. It was one of the greatest nights of my life. Could that girl be the same person I am now? Yes, definitely, yes. I roll over onto my side, pull my legs up, and stand. Without a single look at Travis, I walk straight to the car. I will see my brother, and I will listen to my favorite band again. Over the sound of rushing water I hear a Steller’s jay squawking. I will get through this.

  ∞

  Travis ties my ankles together when we get back to the car. On the ground, miserable and cold, I have nothing better to do than watch, listen, and plan my escape or attack — whichever is needed first. I desperately want to know where Harmony and the Night Terrors are? Is she all right? What if they got to her too? Travis starts a fire in a circle of stones about twenty feet from his precious car. I continually work at freeing my hands but it doesn’t seem to be making any difference. No matter which way I twist or pull, the rope doesn’t give. He lays out the contents of his pack again. I can see the shift of his concentration as he begins his heinous magic. He doesn’t look over at me at all and I know this is the time, if any, that I have to get away or try to help myself, but I have no idea how to do it. I couldn’t squirm away fast enough or even run before he would have his grips on me again. I hold the circle of protection around my body like a force field, but apparently energy has no effect on rope or cold.

  He unwraps small boxes and bottles and lays them out on the same square of cloth he used by the river. The blade of his dagger flashes metallic orange in the light of the fire for a second before disappearing in the shadows of the night. He walks over to me and squats down. My insides curdle with his nearness. This can’t be happening already. Where’s Corrine? Will he go through with any of it before she comes back? He said he needed silver to do the ceremony. No, not yet. Travis reaches down and yanks on the rope tied around my ankles and
then gives the one around my wrists a tug. Apparently satisfied with his findings, he kneels down and lifts a lock of my hair.

  “Stay still, Siren, and I’ll use your hair. Distract me and I’ll take something much more painful.”

  Then his dagger is next to my face and in the blink of an eye, Travis is walking away with a long tail of my hair.

  Breathing fast, I suppress the rising panic and reassure myself that he only took a small section, not all of it, and no other body parts. I have to get away. Quieter than a slug, I begin to inch away from the scene before me. If nothing else, some distance feels like a safe plan.

  Travis adds my hair to his makeshift altar and then picks up one of the bottles. Next, he draws a wide circle around the fire, counterclockwise, and using whatever is inside the bottle. As he completes its circumference, he makes some sort of flourish with his hands.

  “I seal the circle with a knot in time. All who enter will be hidden from the eyes of death.”

  He reaches for one of the boxes. Most of what he does next involves the fire. His words are lower in volume, either that, or in some other language, because I can’t understand any of it. At one point the flames turn green and yellow and the smell of the smoke makes me gag on the noxious fumes. Then a hissing of liquid sizzles in the heat reminding me of my night with the snakes. I shudder. Travis moves away from the flames and picks up my lock of hair. In the low light it’s hard to see, but I think he divides it into two. With one section, he appears to tie my hair around some small round object. There is something already dangling from it, like the chain of a pocket watch. He carefully puts this back down on his altar. He then ties the remaining strands of my hair to his own.

  A shiver like a thousand centipedes racing down my back makes me want to escape the confines of my body. A knot in time, hidden from death, tying my hair to his, and an Angel of Death hanging around, God, what does he have planned for me? It’s definitely not going to be a picnic beneath the stars.