''I get it,'' he said, ''the sun so loved the moon...''
His voice trailed off. We both knew the story. We knew it all too well. He was looking at me thoughtfully. I, however, turned away.
''What if,'' I began, ''the sun didn't want to die for the m...
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Meet with A. Get C. Find D.
September 9th. The Denvers pack was attacked.
Meet with A. Get C. Find D.
I was alone again in my bedroom. My friends had all left me to be alone with my thoughts and my own recovery. My solitude allowed me time to run through the information over and over again in my head. I stared up at the ceiling and ran the letters that we'd seen on Owein's calendar individually through my brain.
On the same day that Owein attacked the Denvers pack, he had written those reminders. Were they connected? I didn't know, but they had to be. Coincidences, as I'd realized much earlier, didn't happen often in West Acres.
That night, I picked the compass up that I'd stashed in my bedside table. No more sleeping pills meant that the nightmares would return, and I couldn't risk it. Again I went through the strange process of letting all the power I felt residing on my skin flow into the foreign object. When I felt fully depleted, I laid down to rest. Sleep found me quickly, but it wasn't peaceful by any means.
Of course, there is no rest for the wicked.
"Welcome back, Eloise."
I groaned loudly at the recognition of the voice. When I looked around, I recognized the clearing where Tucker had fought his uncle. I was alone and the only sounds that came to my ears were the wind and the voice, but I felt nothing on my skin. That fact was my anchor, knowing I was inside of a dream.
Instead of being afraid, this time I was angry. Just once I wanted my dreams to be my own. I wanted sleep to be untainted by the horrific memories. Instead of voicing my discontent, I turned to look at the blonde man with the black eyes.
"Is this my penance for killing you? I can't get rid of you?"
Owein smirked an evil smile. The decaying face dripped a yellowish liquid. His skin sagged, the bones of his cheeks were visible through blood and tendons. I gagged at the sight. Instead of answering my question, Owein walked in circles around me. He looked worse than the last time I'd seen him. Was this the Owein that waited six feet underground? Was the memory of him decaying because his body was or because my image of him was?
"So, you met the witch?"
I blinked a little in surprise at his question.
"Sophia?" I asked, "You said she'd help me find Delia, but all she did was tell me-"
Owein cut me off. "Her story wasn't only her's."
I rolled my eyes at the cryptic nature of his words.
"Why can't my subconscious ever give me a straight answer?" I groaned to myself more than the ghost in front of me.
"What does my father want? Can you at least tell me what your notes mean? What happened on September 9th? Who did you meet with? What did you get? Was it to find Delia- D?"
