The Forest of Sleepers (Nowhere Book 2)

t w e n t y : s l i p p i n g

  Birdie collected the pile of articles that had been dumped on her desk. They were all in disarray, some of the pages to certain stories not even put together, all for her to organize.

"Lovely," she muttered.

"Penny," a nasally voice called from behind the glass pane that separated the offices.

"Yes?" Birdie called back. The speaker was Miss Myrna/J.D. Shaw, who wrote both the gossip column and the sports section. Birdie had read her pen name so often that she could never remember the writer's real name.

"I got three more for ya, hon," she said. Her cat-eye glasses glimmered in the early evening sun and a cloud of perfume followed her as she entered Birdie's office.

"Thanks," Birdie said halfheartedly.

"Thank you," Miss Myrna/J.D. Shaw replied. "I'm turning in for the night; give me a ring if you need something!"

Birdie promised that she would, even though she never recalled Miss Myrna/J.D. Shaw giving her any type of phone number.

Birdie's schoolbag sat beside her desk, full of homework that she'd have to do in the wee hours of the morning.

She began organizing the articles alphabetically, then arranged them in the order they would appear in Sunday's paper.

She never thought she'd miss writing the obituaries so much. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd written an article at all.

Most of her job consisted of writing half-pieces to fill in wherever there was a blank space, and this--Organization Hellscape.

The hours ticked by, as quiet and as lonely as a church sanctuary on a Tuesday. Birdie tried not to think of Sal Hickory, failing each time she told herself this.

She kept seeing his mother's face. Haunted and miserable and frightened.

She wanted to help her, and as much as her imagination played heroics over and over in her mind, she knew that there was nothing she could do.

People like Mary Anne Hickory were abundant, of course. People who did not know what true love was, and therefore held their roses with the thorns still attached.

Birdie could still hear Sal's footsteps echoing across the old wooden floorboards.

No, she thought.

They were actual footsteps.

Birdie looked up and saw Wyatt coming up to her desk.

She tried not to frown too obviously.

He was wearing a particularly intricate sweater vest beneath a corduroy jacket, a fashion choice Birdie would otherwise consider a mistake if the colors didn't match (which they did), and if Wyatt couldn't pull it off (which he did).

She lifted an eyebrow in greeting.

"You needn't be so peeved," he said. "I only came to give you this."

He brandished a piece of paper that had the runes from the cathedral drawn out on it.

His handwriting was sharp and precise, unlike the rough tracing he'd gotten from the stone itself.

Birdie studied it for a moment before looking up at him curiously.

He said, "I figured you might have better luck perusing the library than I did."

"What'd you find?"

Wyatt came around to stand beside her and pointed at the runes. "They're Celtic for sure, but the only books I could find to translate it were written in Gaelic. Turns out they're not very similar."

"Hm." Birdie frowned over the text as if, if she stared at it long enough, the letters would somehow make sense. "I'll go to the library tomorrow and see what I can find."

Wyatt stepped away from the desk, the air shifting ever so slightly.

"This was what I wanted to talk to you about this morning," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat. "Not the, um, other thing."

Birdie lowered her gaze and absently folded the corner of the paper.

"Oh," she said quietly.

It took her a long moment to gather her thoughts and the courage to say what she knew she had to, and Wyatt waited patiently through the silence until she was ready.

"I appreciated what you said at the dance." Her tone was soft but businesslike as if she had practiced this conversation dozens of times before. Knowing Birdie, she probably had.

"It was very kind," she continued, "and it meant a lot to me. But I can't...we can't..." her sentence refused to come out.

What was she really trying to say? That they couldn't be together lest Marigold saw them? That they couldn't slow dance at a school function when it was hardly either of their faults?

The whole conversation seemed silly all of a sudden. What Wyatt had intended to be a simple compliment, she'd taken as some sort of profession. And looking like more of an idiot than Wyatt Best was not something Birdie had hoped to accomplish today.

"Well," she said briskly, "are we alright?"

Despite her fumbling words that left far more unsaid than she'd intended, Wyatt remained somber. "We're alright, Bernadette."

"Good," she replied. It was as if a weight came off her shoulders when she saw the genuineness on Wyatt's face.

She pushed her chair back as she stood up, holding the paper in front of her. "I'll see what I can--"

A wave of nausea stole the rest of her sentence away.

At first, she thought it was because she'd stood up too fast, but then the familiar ringing started blaring in her ear.

No, she thought, no, no, no...

"Bernadette?" she heard Wyatt ask before her muscles went limp and she fell to the ground.

Wyatt managed to yank her away before her head hit the corner of the desk.

He lowered her gently to the floor as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

This was not the worst part.

The worst part came when her eyes darkened to a sickening black and Wyatt could do nothing but stare into them.

Her lips moved wordlessly, her chest rising and falling in panic.

"Bernadette?!" Wyatt called, shaking her shoulders slightly.

When he went to stand up to go find help, Birdie latched onto his arm.

"Stop!!" she cried.

"What?" Wyatt whispered. "Bernadette?"

"STOP!" her voice was strangled and Wyatt realized she wasn't talking to him. She was scared of something in whatever world had taken her.

Her grip was deathly tight on his arm, holding him hostage to watch as her face twisted with pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since the last chapter was so short, I thought we all deserved another one ^_^

~What do you think Birdie will see in her vision? o.O

~General thoughts on the chapter?

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