-What Dreams May Come-
Friday 4:40 p.m. Ipswich
"Is this really such a good idea?"
"Yes."
"I'm not sure it is."
"Chase..." Caleb's voice was notably warning.
"Maybe we should hold off on the whole read into my soul thing and go for coffee. I'm feeling a bit light-headed and I could use some sugar."
"Chase, you're not backing out of this. The rest of us just finished the ritual for accepting a new member. You're a member now, and as a member, there's the condition of the soul search we laid down. It hasn't even been an hour since we agreed to it."
There was no room left for discussion. He knew it, but it didn't mean he wanted to accept it. He didn't want to dredge up his past, and he certainly didn't want the rest of the Sons of Ipswich to know.
The only reason Chase found himself in this damp stone basement, surrounded by four warlocks who'd been keen to be his enemies days earlier, was one woman. She wanted him to do this. More importantly, she wanted him to do this for himself. When Selene suggested or encouraged things, she meant it. For their age, she was incredibly wise.
"So... How does this soul search work exactly?"
He nervously glanced down at the circle drawn in chalk he'd been made to stand inside during the ritual. It was where he'd be for the duration of the soul search. Black dots appeared in his eyeballs and he swayed in place for a moment. He hadn't been kidding. He wasn't feeling so hot.
"When our gazes meet," Caleb described, "I'll use my power to read your soul. Basically, the power will reveal to us images of the past that define your soul as it is now."
Chase tore his gaze away from the chalk outline to look up. "Sounds complicated."
"Hey, it's not fun for me either. It's a lot of strain to see and hold onto so many memories that aren't your own."
"Then why do it?"
"Trust. We need to know everything about you as a member of our coven."
It was Tyler who said that. He looked at the youngest member, the sole member yet to turn eighteen. Perhaps the only one who could possibly be swayed.
"What if you don't want to know everything about me?"
Now he'd earned the ire of Pogue and Reid, the pair of them glaring at his back from where they sat perched on separate rock formations. Another glance about this basement had him note how old it must be to have been constructed so deep beneath and within the earth. He just wasn't cut out for making friends.
"Damn it, Chase! You're doing this!"
"Come on, Caleb. Just do it."
Caleb was shaking his head. "No. I need his express permission. I'm not going to go poking around his memories against his will."
He held as still as possible to avoid flinching. How could he have done the things he'd done to this person? The guy who was seeking his say so for something he could take if he truly desired. A thing he could do and even defend by arguing it was only fair after everything Chase did to them. Well, shit.
His eyes took a final scan of the other Sons staring, and his gaze found Caleb. The Son stood directly in front of him. "Okay. Go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Now it was Caleb who hesitated. He shook off the uncertainty in the next beat though, and moved closer. Lifting a hand to Chase's shoulder to hold him in place, their gazes locked and Caleb's eyes blackened.
Chase wondered how this would work. Would he feel anything or would it sort of happen and be done in a matter of seconds? Maybe he'd be lucky and black out through the duration. It could be that the Sons saw it like a movie, but he didn't even see- Oh. A ghostly trickling sensation down his spine, an abrupt twist in his stomach, and then his whole head exploded into pure white.
"Hey, rich boy, where'd you get the black eye this time?"
Oh great, a real genius decided to start talking to him. People generally knew to avoid Chase Collins. He was a loner, a punk who got into fights and skipped school. At the same time, he was popular because he had a lot of friends, won his fights, and could get any girl he wanted. The kid who was untouchable because his mom was practically a world-famous clothing designer, and his dad was a no-nonsense businessman who knew how to make a deal to earn millions. That was what the people of Haversfield saw, and apparently, this prep school dropout thought he'd start something with Chase today.
"What do you want, Dale?"
He fought Dale just last week. Sent the guy home crying. He supposed a sophomore sending a senior home in tears was enough to earn the guy coming back to try and claim some dignity. Still, he was not in the mood.
"Well? Where'd you get the colorful art, huh?"
Chase was not about to tell Dale Wenden that his "dad" managed to get his hands on him over the weekend. Beat him up and threw him down the stairs to the basement for the whole night. His so called mom let him out the following morning because she needed him to do laundry while Doris was away. Bitch.
A finger poked him in the ribs, very bruised ribs, and he flinched and shifted away. He did his level best to ignore the dozen or so eyes already watching them. He was alerted to the fact a couple of Dale's friends were coming over to likely help their buddy enact revenge.
A girl in red capris, a white blouse, and of all things, a black fedora hat atop her short brown hair appeared. She suddenly mushed herself in between him and the trio of jocks moving into his space.
"Why, Travis Miller, that you?"
One of the seniors slowed his stroll and looked at the girl in confusion. "What?"
She leaned in toward the three. "And Freddy James, too. How perfect. Remember when you two thought you'd get off peeping on Brenda Gilbert in the showers after volleyball practice? Remember how she heard one of you and slipped? Hit her head and ended up with a pretty serious concussion. Tsk tsk. Wouldn't want anyone finding out that was because of you two, hm?"
"Who do you think you are-" Dale began but she went in for the kill, using him as the finish.
"Dale Wenden. Where do I start? How about the prank with the varsity soccer coach that accidentally set his entire office on fire? Arson like that could potentially lead to some jail time, suspension for sure, and that's not even the only thing the police could get you on. You haven't forgotten-"
"Okay! Sheesh! Forget it, Collins. Come on, guys. Let's get out of here."
Dale strode quickly off and his friends were happy to bumble after him in shock and concern. When the girl spun around to face him, he put up his hands in mock surrender.
"Please, I'm unarmed."
She laughed. "You're welcome for all that. Maybe you should try to stay out of trouble."
"I'll consider it."
She laughed again. "Well, nice to meet you..rich boy?"
He corrected. "Chase Collins."
"Nice to meet you, Chase. Name's Trisha Burns, and you should probably know, I plan to be famous one day. I report the truth where I find it."
"Well, Trisha, I plan to be alive one day."
She smiled wide, thinking he was joking. "We all have to have dreams somehow."
There was hardly a transition between one memory to the next. The images just sort of blurred together, out of focus, until the colors separated to become more solid. A different place and time revealed.
The music was loud, booming. Some terrible rap song that couldn't possibly be danced to. Yet people were dancing. Everyone seemed to be having such a great time. He wasn't even sure why he'd come. Trisha had to be there to take pictures for the school paper. She dragged him along so they could suffer together. Except she wasn't suffering much, flouncing about cheerfully while she tried to capture the best pictures to share how the night went. Meanwhile, he stood off to the side, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants, feeling awkward and alone.
"Hello!"
The greeting was shouted into his ear because of the music volume. He glanced at the person in his ear, thinking it might be Trish there to save him from this horrible event that was a school dance. Instead, he laid eyes on the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. And the beauty was smiling at him.
"You wouldn't happen to be the Collins' kid, would you?"
"Who's asking?"
"Ha, you are. My parents warned me about you."
He frowned, but a slight smile was growing on his face regardless. "Did they now? And they would be?"
"Rogers family. I'm Selene. Ask me to dance."
"What?"
Chase was confused, nervous, and intrigued all at the same time. It was terrible and wonderful, and he contemplated if this might be what love was.
Things blurred and resolved into a setting much quieter. This time outside.
"I dream and dream of getting out of this place, away from home, away to something new. Do you think things will get better? You know, life?"
"I know they will, because I have you to make it better."
"Oh, Chase."
Selene said it like she disagreed, but didn't know what else to say. She stared straight up at the stars in the sky. He shuffled upright partially and she glanced over. He wanted to be looking in her eyes when he did this. Her gaze lowered to his reaching hands and she gasped.
"Chase!"
"Selene, I know we're still young, but when school is done... Maybe even in a year or two. I'd like you and me," he stumbled and quickly self-corrected. "I want us to be forever."
"We will be. Yes, Chase. Of course. Yes."
Everything mixed together but soon moved apart again, solidifying.
There were a lot of people in black clothing. It was a relatively sunny day out, not many clouds in the sky. Everyone was milling about in a cemetery.
"Where's Chase?"
"He didn't stay."
"But this is his parents' funeral."
"I know, Trisha. I don't know why he left. He seemed distracted, said he had to go."
"I thought he'd tell you at least."
Selene shrugged. "I think what he needs is to be alone."
A young man maybe a few years older than them came over. "Did you hear about Chase?"
The women stared cautiously, Trisha asking, "What about him?"
"He's gone. Steve and Jake said they saw him drive out of town half an hour ago."
"What? Where did he go, Jason?" Selene demanded.
She looked worried, so did Trisha.
"I don't know. I guess it looked like he'd packed some stuff. Could be gone for a while, could be gone for good."
Selene stared at the ring on her finger. She stared at the promise. She stared and stared.
A whirlwind of images into a single solitary shape walking to the front door of an expansive home.
As soon as he stepped through the door he knew something wasn't right. Nothing was ever right in the house, but tonight it felt different. Maybe he should have stepped out. Maybe he should have left and slept in a field nearby filled with the softest grass this time of year. He didn't leave though, and it would make all the difference.
He descended the single step which separated the front foyer from the remainder of the house and headed for the kitchen. It was dark inside and he prayed that meant he was by himself. Chase wished he wasn't so hungry because then he could avoid this risk of entering public domain. He was starving, however, having not eaten all day. Besides, it was his birthday. Nobody should go hungry on their birthday.
Entering the kitchen with soft steps and quiet breaths, he was relieved to find he was alone. He kept himself silent, every movement deliberate and drawn out. There was the chance they were in some other part of the ridiculously large house he was forced to call home. A sliver of light flooded the darkened room and for a second he hesitated, stilling his movements. Outside, rain began to patter against the window panes. Chase sighed and opened the fridge wide. He was being silly.
He grabbed a can of cola off the shelf and popped the top, drinking deeply. Soda in this house was meant only as a refreshment to offer guests. Helen and Arthur's guests, not his. Screw it. They'd beat him if they noticed what he'd done. They'd beat him anyway. Screw it. He took another long drink before setting it on the counter behind him, focus on the contents of the fridge as he searched for a meal. That was when he was struck.
Some guy he didn't know smashed a baseball bat into his shoulder. A friggin' baseball bat. It was wooden, but still hurt like hell. He reached to defend against the second blow when someone else came at him down low. This other man he didn't recognize barreled full force into his legs, causing his knees to give out upon impact. As he fell, he felt confusion, pain, fear. He didn't understand what was happening.
Blows started to make contact on him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't concentrate enough for self-defense. The two men were joined by a third, who joined in the savagery, and this one he did know. Arthur. He tried to say his name, ask why, but all that came out was a gurgle as blood leaked past his lips.
It did stop, the attacks ceasing as abruptly as they'd begun. But he was far from relieved when a voice spoke through the dark. A light switched on and hands fell upon him, gripping painfully, lifting him up. He was thrown onto the dining table and turned on his stomach. He tried to roll to his front, wanting to see his attackers, even through the swelling and fluid obscuring his vision. The hands were insistent, keeping him in place.
"Why?" his mind kept screaming through the steadily rising pain. "Why was this happening?"
A rough hand found purchase in his hair and wrenched his head back so he was looking straight ahead. Straight ahead was where Helen stood, staring at him with a mixture of uncertainty and regret clear as day on her face. It was the most caring expression he'd ever seen her look at him with, and now he was terrified. It was the look of someone who knew what was happening to him, and however indirectly or directly she may have caused this, she would not stop it. She felt it was beyond her grasp, that she couldn't do anything.
"Help me!" he felt like screaming aloud. He could barely groan.
Arthur's voice, gruff and spitting hate, spoke into his ear. "We know what you are. Helen saw you. You're a freak, just like we always suspected. You're a danger to this town. Me and the boys, Helen too, we're going to put you down. For the good of the town. 'Cause we know what you are... Freak."
His hair released, his head smacked on the table and he felt the power surge. He didn't want to die. Chase could sense the end was near and reacted. He kicked the guy by his feet the moment his grasp became lax, hand reaching elsewhere to grab a stack of rope. The man cursed and Chase used the remainder of his physical strength to roll off the table and blast his power full force in the direction of the table. The magic incinerated the furniture and made skeletons of the two men who stood directly in the path of his blast.
"Jesus," his mind gasped. He hadn't imagined his power could do that to a chair, let alone the men he'd just killed. "Jesus."
A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and he was kicked in the face. He fell over onto his side, fresh blood running from his nose. Arthur. He'd missed Arthur. After being kicked several times in the legs, back, and side, he was turned to his stomach, arms dragged and tied behind him. Chase couldn't fight. He felt in his bones that he'd drained all the magic his body could conjure in its weakened state. White cloth was shoved in his mouth for a gag, affixed around his head with a knot.
The people who signed a flimsy piece of paper with the weight of someone's world on it, were now conversing in urgent voices. Outside, a storm began to rage, almost as if to compete against the one which occurred inside the house. These people standing above promised to love and protect him. They'd sworn to make him feel comfortable, safe, loved. Now they were plotting how to destroy him.
Apparently they decided to dispose of him elsewhere.
"Far enough away they won't suspect," murmured the woman who'd taken on the title of mother.
Really what she meant was, far enough away so she wouldn't have to remember. He wasn't sure when he started to cry, but the sight froze Helen in her tracks as she was stooping to lift the upper half of his body for carrying. The silent tears kept her transfixed, breath stolen away by the child she witnessed grow into a young man.
His eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall. Her gaze followed his without choice. When she dragged her eyes back to him, her face looked a thousand years older. Helen had recalled his birthday, and in that instant, she knew a part of her did love him. Her gaze broke from his and she would not look at him again, not once. She'd come too far in this evil thing to be redeemed. Chase watched the emotions and thoughts spelling across her face disappearing.
Arthur barked something at her and she lifted him off the floor with a grunt of exertion. His hope died.
Together they carried him outside and to Arthur's car. Rain soaked them within seconds but neither of them noticed. Their concentration was on the task at hand. Admirable, if the task wasn't to kill him.
As he was shut away in the dark, cramped space of the car trunk, Chase wondered. The car started and moved away from the house. He wondered how they were going to cover his murder up. Perhaps claim he went to stay with relatives? No, they'd say he ran away. They'd tell everyone they have no idea why he would run off. That they'd loved him and did the best they could. But he was a teenager and they got funny ideas of independence and freedom in their heads sometimes. Eighteen was all grown up in the eyes of a high school student.
The surge of power flooded through him and filled him so fast he barely had time to scream. It hurt and yet felt intoxicating at the same time. He could feel himself strengthening, every inch of him, but it was setting off every nerve ending in the process of moving rapidly through his body. Hence, the scream. The power filled him completely and then exploded outward in a chaotic whirl of raw energy.
Wind and light within darkness became the physical manifestation and it wanted out. The wind started to cut through him painfully and he slammed his eyes shut only for them to rip open a second later to the sounds of metal being wrenched and warped. He was staring at the open road as the trunk lock broke free from its latch and he was hurtling out of the enclosed space. The energy burned through him, the wind rushed past, and then there was nothing but black.
Chase was brought back to himself with such speed he fell backward and hit the hard stone floor. He looked up to see Caleb stumbling away from him, clutching his head. His eyes were still black, still in the midst of the soul search he'd been performing.
"I-can't. I don't want to see any more."
Anger began to churn Chase's stomach. He leaped to his feet and advanced on the guy.
"What are you doing? You wanted to see this."
"It's enough. I'm done," Caleb murmured.
He sounded like he was in pain. He glanced around the room at the other Sons. They seemed to be in near identical condition as Caleb. So they did feel everything along with seeing it all. Good. They should. They insisted on knowing everything about him and they would.
"You're not done, not yet."
Taking a chance that it would work, he grabbed hold of Caleb's shoulders and locked eyes with him again.
"You're really my father."
Chase stood in front of a pale form of a man, frail and faint in appearance. A ghost.
"I loved your mother, Chase. You have to get the covenant members to will you their power. You have to avenge our deaths, son. The covenant betrayed our family. They're a threat to the world and they owe you. You must do this. Whatever it takes."
He was shoved out of Caleb's trance hold. "No!"
But Chase was determined. "Almost to the beginning of our story, Caleb."
He grabbed him and stared him down, quite literally, as Caleb sank to his knees.
He had to get away. He had to get out. Stumbling out of the car, he dared not look back at the body he was leaving behind. Chase got as far as a row of bushes and then he was throwing up in them.
Was what he was doing right? This was what his parents wanted for him? He was so confused. He knew he had to do this though. His parents needed him to because they were no longer alive to protect him, or anyone for that matter. He had to keep going. What was coming would require him to lose a conscience. His parents needed him. They loved him. They needed him to be strong. He'd be ready for what was coming.
Chase staggered farther from the car and kept going. It was okay. It was okay. It had to be or else where did that leave him?
This time when Caleb broke free from him, he didn't resist and let himself fall. He hit the ground with his back and felt it welcoming. He was exhausted but they'd seen it all. They couldn't call him a liar or accuse him of deceit. The Sons knew his past, how it made him what he was today. They knew his heart.
/
After acquiring a room at the front desk, Selene went to her room. For the early hour, she was feeling awfully tired. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, finding Chase. It was clear he hadn't wanted to be found though, which stung. All she kept thinking was how he lied to her. How could he not tell her what was going on at home? She'd changed her mind about him and wasn't going to leave him, and then he left.
As she slipped into her room, she never noticed the man watching her from farther down the hall, never noticed the knife he continuously traced a finger across while he stared.