Lucid (23 page)

A blur streaked across the top of the three-story building. I quickly straightened and zoomed in. It was Drystan, wearing his backpack, but he wasn’t alone. A taller guy in a ball cap and baseball-style jacket chased him at a speed that set my heart racing with worry.

I gasped as Drystan came closer and closer to the edge. God, he would be trapped! When he jumped, my heart lodged in my throat. I watched in shock as he landed in a tucked roll, then jumped right back up as if his legs were made of springs.

Unfortunately the guy chasing him followed, though he landed far less gracefully. He stood and stumbled for a second or two, then shot off in pursuit after Drystan, who was already scaling down the pipe like a ninja.

His pursuer didn’t follow Drystan. Instead, he vaulted off the two-story building and landed on the ground below. I gaped. How was that humanly possible without breaking a leg? I called out in a hoarse voice, “Drystan, he’s waiting for you!”

Drystan must’ve heard the other guy push his tall body through the three-foot hedge to get to him. Instead of jumping down, Drystan used the ledge to pull himself across the front of the building, while keeping his legs out of the guy’s grasp.

When Drystan reached the end of the ledge, the guy was waiting for him at the corner. His arms were crossed, his stance confident, as if he knew Drystan wouldn’t be able to hold himself up there forever. Drystan pulled his legs up a bit higher, then pushed off the wall in a powerful backward flip. Vaulting over the guy’s head, he hit the ground on the other side of the bushes in a backward roll.

“Damn, that was impressive,” I muttered.

Just as Drystan moved to stand, the guy wearing the ball cap burst through the hedge and landed a hard punch. The powerful hit knocked Drystan to his knees.

“Drystan!” I screamed and immediately started my car, yanking it into gear. Drystan held his hand outstretched in my direction. I paused, surprised when he staggered to a standing position, then quickly spun, drilling a powerful round-house kick into his attacker’s chest. As the guy flew into the bushes, Drystan took off running toward the walled edge of the shopping center’s parking lot.

When he was within a few feet of the wall, Drystan sprang into a flying jump, where he scaled the ten-foot wall with nothing more than springboard legs and one handhold on a covered light halfway up the wall. I watched in disbelief as he grabbed the wrought iron railing at the top, then pulled himself up to vault over the railing.

As he disappeared into the wooded area flanking the entire left side of the shopping center, I shook my head in amazement. Watching Drystan overcome obstacles in his way, while staying in constant motion, was like watching a monkey jump, twist, and swing his way through a jungle environment. Not a single action was wasted.

The moment the guy from the gym found a lower area of the wall he could scale, then jumped over it to follow after Drystan, my hands tensed on the steering wheel.

Drystan had told me to wait here. After witnessing what I just did, I had to trust he knew he could somehow find his way over to me without the guy pursuing him.

Fourteen agonizing minutes later, I received a text.

Drystan – 9:00 p.m. ~ Think I lost him. Meet me on the back side of the Furniture Place’s parking lot. JIC, turn off your lights and roll down your back windows
.

That was at least two miles away! I drove toward Furniture Place. It had closed down last year, so I understood why he’d chosen it as a meeting place. No one would be around and there weren’t any parking lot lights. As soon as I turned into the lot, I flicked off my car lights, glad for the half moon to light my path back behind the warehouse.

My pulse thrummed in my ears as I pushed the buttons to roll down my back windows and steered my car toward the back side of the parking lot.

I’d barely turned the corner of the building when Drystan dove into my back seat. I let out a gasp of surprise, but quickly buzzed the windows closed.

He kept his head low and panted hard. “Take that…road.” Sweat trickled down his temples as he pushed his hood back and pointed toward a narrow dirt road that led off the parking lot. “Came…this way earlier. Leads to a neighborhood. Steered the bloke in the opposite direction…then doubled back.”

“Do you ever take stairs like a normal person?” I handed him an extra water bottle I’d brought, then followed his directions down the dirt road. “God, that was close, Drystan!”

“Stairs are boring.” His lips crooked as he lifted the water bottle.

Five minutes later, Drystan finished off the last of the water just as my car emerged from the woods, entering an unfamiliar neighborhood. I turned on my lights, then plugged in the GPS so I wouldn’t have to drive around aimlessly trying to find my way back to a main road.

As I followed the GPS’s directions, I asked, “Did you recognize the guy who came after you? Was he someone from school?”

Drystan climbed into the front seat. “I’d turned off the lights in the locker room, since no one was in there when I entered. Once we were in the parking lot, I tried to catch a glimpse, but his baseball hat obscured his eyes. I think he had a buzz cut or something under that hat.”

I wanted to punch my steering wheel that we still didn’t know who this guy was. “Did you see him jump from that two-story building to the ground? That’s impossible without breaking a leg.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Not necessarily. I’ve seen a couple of blokes jump from that height while doing parkour moves.”

“He didn’t roll like you do to take the shock out of the impact. That seemed an inhuman leap for him to land on cement in an upright stance.”

Drystan’s eyes widened. “He landed without absorbing that jump?”

I nodded. “I cringed watching it.”

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the garage, closing the door behind my car. Drystan’s swelling cheek made me wince. I was glad Mom had gone out with Mr. Dixon so I wouldn’t have to explain
any
of tonight’s events. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, Drystan. Let’s get some ice on your face.”

Houdini let off a round of vicious defensive barks as Drystan entered with me through the kitchen door. “Hush, Houdini,” I said, holding out my hand.

Houdini rushed to nuzzle my fingers. Shoving his big body between Drystan and me, he growled at Drystan, then pressed his nose into my palm.

Drystan took a step back. “He’s a right big one, your dog.”

When I saw the darker line of hair on Houdini’s tan back fully raised in defensive mode, I took Drystan’s hand and held it out palm-up so Houdini could sniff. “He’s okay, Houdini. This is Drystan.”

Houdini eyed Drystan warily. He sniffed hard, making sure to leave behind plenty of snot-drool. Eventually the raised fur on his back began to lie down, but he kept himself pressed firmly against my thigh.

“You can wash the drool off while I get some ice for you,” I said, turning to pull out a clean dishtowel from a drawer in the island.

Drystan rubbed his wet hand on his jeans, eyeing Houdini with guarded respect. “I think I’ll keep his scent on me while I’m here.” He laid his backpack on the island, then moved around it to sit on one of the stools.

As I opened the freezer, Drystan said, “What’s in that book of yours, Nara?”

“Why?” I tensed, but forced my expression to relax before I set the flexible icepack on the clean dishtowel I’d laid on the island.

He shrugged and played with the zipper on his backpack. “I got the impression that the bloke chasing me thought I was trying to steal his ‘prize’ away from him. When he came around the corner and saw me shutting the locker, he yelled across the empty locker room, ‘It’s mine to present to him!’ That’s all he said.”

“I don’t know why it would be considered a prize.” I frowned and skirted the island to press the towel-wrapped ice pack under his eye. “Here, hold this on the swelling for a little bit.”

Drystan had inhaled a pained hiss when the cloth touched his face, but he put his hand over mine before I could release the towel. “You’re not telling me everything. Don’t you think I at least deserve an answer?”

His green gaze stared at me intently as his warm fingers clasped my hand tight. I couldn’t pull away without hurting him, so I told him the truth. “Honestly, Drystan, I have no clue why this guy or anyone else would want my journal. It’s just personal notes on a project I’m working on. Everything that’s in there is stuff I’ve gotten off the Internet. In other words, nothing super secret or special. It’s available to everyone.”

“Well, some people think it has value.” He sighed and released my hand. “What is your project about?”

I slid onto the stool next to him and started to speak, when Houdini moved close to rest his chin on my thigh. I rubbed his head as I gave Drystan an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Drystan, but it’s personal.”

Grunting, he shook his head and unzipped his backpack, then pulled the green drawstring bag out by the strings. “I hope whatever’s in here is worth the hassle it’s taken to get it back.”

I grabbed the top of the bag, guilt whipping through me. “When you saw yourself handing me this, did you know you’d be holding ice on your face?”

Drystan shrugged. “You said you needed to get it back, so I helped. It seemed important to you.”

My heart tugged that he’d gone after my journal knowing he’d get hurt. “I wished you’d told me everything.”

“If you can hold stuff back, so can I,” he shot back.

“I never would’ve let you do it, Dryst!”

A broad smile suddenly split his face and warmth reflected in his eyes. “Dryst. My first girlfriend used to call me that. It sounds very different in your American accent, though. Better, I think.”

Gah! I couldn’t believe I’d inadvertently used an old girlfriend’s nickname for him. I’d used it like I did “Lane” for Lainey. “It was just my way of saying, ‘Thanks, but you’d better spill your guts in the future,’” I said in a lighthearted tone as I tugged on the drawstring to open the bag. I just wanted to peek inside and make sure Ethan’s book was still in good condition.

When my gaze landed on the smaller dark blue hardback book with brass corners lying on top of Ethan’s leather book, my stomach twisted into a hard knot.

Oh God, no
!

“What’s wrong?” Drystan pulled the icepack away. “Is your journal not in there?”

“No, that’s not it.” I jumped up to grab my backpack lying against the couch.

As I frantically riffled through my bag, looking for the notepad I’d used for my interview notes with Freddie, Drystan touched my shoulder. “What’s going on? You’re very pale.”

“I—I have to check something first.” I flipped to the front page of the notepad where I’d jotted down Freddie’s contact information, then grabbed my phone and dialed his number.

My hand tightened on my phone as Freddie’s phone rang and rang and rang. I let it ring another ten times before looking at Drystan. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind riding with me out to Afton?”

Drystan gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him. “Talk to me, Nara. What’s in Afton?”

I bit my lip to stop it from trembling. “I’m worried about a friend. He’s old and alone. I feel like I should check on him. Unfortunately, when I asked you to help get back my journal, none of that showed in my dream last night. But by taking back my book, I’ve also altered the rest of my day, which means none of this was in my dream either. I don’t want to drive out there by myself at nine at night.” Exhaling slowly, I skimmed my gaze past his shoulder to the drawstring bag.
I’m worried what I might find when I get there.

* * *

Drystan insisted on driving, and I was surprised he waited until we were on the road to say anything, but the moment we hit the highway, he glanced my way. “We have twenty minutes until we reach Afton. You freaked out when you looked in that bag. I think it’s time to fill me in.”

Even though he sounded calm, I saw the tension in his tight grip on my steering wheel. I freaked because I knew there was no way Freddie would have parted with his book willingly. All I could hope was that when this guy broke into Freddie’s house, Freddie was in the sanctuary tending his ravens. My mind pinged to the fact that Freddie had an entire wall of interesting raven books. There was only
one
way the thief would have known this particular book was very special, and that was if he’d forced Freddie to tell him. Then again, maybe the thief had the ability to recognize the blue book’s “specialness” in some other way, leaving Freddie unharmed. But if Freddie truly believed the book belonged to me, then why hadn’t he called to tell me it was stolen? Could he have given it to the thief willingly? If so, why?

“Nara,” Drystan called my name in a terse voice, drawing me out of my conflicted musings.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about Freddie.” Before we left my house, I’d run upstairs to hide the drawstring bag under my mattress, then invited Houdini up on my bed. No way anyone was getting near those books again, not with my guard dog laying on them. I met Drystan’s expectant gaze and I tried to think of the best way to explain without bringing Ethan into it. Focusing on the ravens would be closest to the truth. “The project I’m working on, the one in my journal, is the study of ravens.”

Drystan shot me a skeptical look. “I’ll admit you have a right odd obsession with these birds. I’ve even seen a couple on your car—which is also weird, by the way—but how is the study of ravens in any way personal? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

I sprinkled the truth with embellishments from my research. “Based on your reaction to my ‘odd obsession’ and the fact some people are superstitious about ravens, seeing them as an omen of death/witches/the devil in bird form, et cetera, I preferred to avoid the judgment and keep my project private.”

He shook his head, clearly confused. “What is your project specifically about?”

I spread my hands and shrugged. “Just the study of ravens. The man we’re going to see, Freddie Holtzman, has studied ravens all his life. I interviewed him yesterday in order to learn some background information on ravens from someone who’d actually raised them.”