Of course, you might be a little lost if you haven't read the first two books in the series, but Menagerie, the first book, is only .99. You can get it here: MENAGERIE
It is during the wee hours when our
most immense dreams come to us.
Jean Arp
From
Lizbet’s Studies
CHAPTER 1
As
sunlight touched the eastern sky Declan sat up, shivering. Brushing twigs and
leaves off his naked skin, he crawled to huddle behind a huckleberry bush to
make sense of things. His whole world tilted as he tried to process what had
happened. He had spent the night in the woods. Naked? How could he have
forgotten something as important as his clothes?
Beyond
the woods, Lizbet’s house. Only the barn stirred with life. Horses nickered, goats
bleated, pigs snorted—all were waiting for their breakfast, and Declan knew who
would provide it. Lizbet. He couldn’t face her. Not like this. After shooting a
quick glance at the house, wondering if anyone was awake to witness his
streaking, he ran for his car.
The
keys. Where were they? In the pocket of his jeans. But where were his pants?
Crouching behind the Mercedes, he spotted them—or what was left of them—at the
edge of the woods. He commando crawled through the tall grass, snake-like,
flinching as twigs and pebbles poked and pierced his skin. All his clothes had
been ripped to shreds, but thankfully, his keys were still in the remains of
his pocket. He scooped up the cottony threads of what had once been his
clothes.
His
shivering accelerated as he pressed the key fob, crawled back through the
grass, avoiding anything sharp or dangerous looking, and lifted the car’s door
handle. Inside the Mercedes, he started the engine and turned up the heater
full blast. He glanced in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see a furry
snout instead of his nose and unshaved chin. He looked exactly like himself,
but…he gazed at his arms and chest…different. He studied the wolf bite on his hand.
A few hours ago the puncture wounds had been a bloody mess, but it had since healed
to a pink line. Strange.
By
the time he arrived at his grandfather’s house in the University District, he
had practically convinced himself that it had all been a bad dream.
But
his shredded clothes told a different story.
He
collapsed onto his bed just after dawn and fell into a restless sleep.
#
Lizbet addressed a crowd of
gathered animals. “I really appreciate your willingness to put aside your
animosity to fight our common enemy. As you know, a pack of wolves has been
terrorizing our community. There have even been some deaths.”
Chattering, growling, and murmuring
rippled through the crowd.
“It needs to stop,” Lizbet said.
“And I believe it can. But only if we all work together.”
A crow fluttered to perch on
Lizbet’s shoulder. It whispered in her ear and she stopped and slowly turned in
Declan’s direction. He thought about hiding, but realized he could never do so
from the birds.
“What are you doing here, Declan?”
she asked, her voice hard.
He stepped out from behind the
tree, amazed to find he was almost as scared of Lizbet as he was of the bear.
“What—“ His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you
doing?”
She twisted her lips together and
scowled at him. He could tell she was battling between the truth and a lie.
Finally, she said, “I’m going to catch a werewolf.”
Drenched
in sweat, Declan bolted up, kicking the covers off his bed. He swung his legs
off the side of the bed and sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in
his hands. He willed his heart to stop racing. It’s only a dream, he told
himself. But it was more than that. It was a memory. A painful one.
And
if it was a memory, it meant that the other, more terrifying dreams could also
be memories. He padded over to his computer, sat down in front of it, and
turned it on. He typed “night terrors” into the search engine.
Episodes usually occur 1 to 2 hours
after going to sleep and can last from 1 to 30 minutes. The victim will look
like himself with open eyes but his expression will be vacant, if not
horror-struck. Waking a victim will prove difficult, if not impossible. Upon
waking, he or she won't remember the incident, no matter what terror he has
endured.
During an episode, it is typical
for one to exhibit intense fear or agitation. They may be violent. They will
not be cognizant of their surroundings. Their breathing may quicken and their
heartrate increase. They may perspire profusely. They may scream and try to
fight demons that only they can see.
Night terrors are different from
nightmares. Nightmares are frightening dreams that can often be recalled the
next morning in vivid detail. Night terrors leave no trace in the memory.
That
was it. Night terrors. Although, according to this article, victims of night
terrors were usually under the age of twelve. But Declan wrote off his
experience in the woods as night terrors—a phenomenon brought on by the shock
of Lizbet’s revelations. For that, of course, he couldn’t manufacture a
rational explanation without engaging in a losing argument with her—and maybe a
bear or a skunk. No sense in picking a fight he had no chance of winning. But
as for his own personal nightmare—he didn’t need to revisit it.
He
hoped.
It
was only a little after six. He could sleep for another couple of hours. But
could and would were two very different concepts. Silently, he crept from his
room and down the hall and peeked through his mom’s ajar bedroom door. She
slept curled in a ball in the middle of her king-size bed, the bedclothes
wrapped around her legs, her arms tucked under her. He tiptoed across the long
stretch of carpet, passing through a swath of early morning light streaming
through the window. In her bathroom, he found her collection of medicine in the
cabinet. He grabbed four bottles, and after another glance at his mom, he took
them into her closet and closed the door before flipping on the light.
The
sudden brightness stung his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear.
Surrounded by his mom’s power suits, silky dresses, and shoes, he scanned the
medicine labels before selecting the one that read, For relief of sleeplessness when associated with pain.
He
knew what he was doing was wrong, but he rationalized away his guilt. He told
himself emotional pain was just as real as physical pain. He swallowed the
pills dry.
#
Elizabeth
stood in the far corner of her garden waving her cane at a flock of sparrows.
“Something
wrong, Grandma?” Lizbet asked, coming up behind her.
“These
dad-gum birds are eating all of my grapes!” Elizabeth groused.
“They
have to feed their families, too,” Lizbet said gently as she eyed the small,
hard green balls that had weeks to go before being palatable to anyone other
than the sparrows.
Elizabeth
blew out a sigh. “You sound like you’re on their side!”
“I
didn’t know there were any sides,” Lizbet said. “I’m just pointing out—”
“Ugh.
You sound like Josie!” Elizabeth sloshed through the muddy garden patch. “She’s
always trying to get me to sell this place.”
That
was not only unfair, but it was also untrue. “I don’t want you to sell the
ranch, and I know my mom doesn’t either.”
Elizabeth
sniffed as she moved between the corn stalks. Some had already grown past her
shoulders while others barely reached her waist. A few of the taller stalks had
baby ears of corn and sported puffs of silk.
“This
place is my life,” Elizabeth said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I
had to vegetate in Josie’s condo all day.”
Lizbet
trailed after her grandmother. Because she was a good five inches shorter than
her grandmother, some of the stalks touched her hair and threatened to poke her
in the eye with their floppy leaves. “No one is asking you to move in with
Josie.”
Elizabeth
made a harrumphing sound. “We’re going to have to make some salsa out of these
tomatoes,” she said. “If we can keep the deer out of here.”
Lizbet
took note of the hundreds of nearly ripe tomatoes. Only a few, that she could
see, had deer bites in them. “I think the critters have shown a lot of
self-restraint,” Lizbet said.
Elizabeth
turned and gave her an are-you-insane look.
“Come
on, Grandma,” Lizbet said, taking Elizabeth’s arm. “Let’s go and make some
lunch.”
#
When
an invitation to Nicole’s going away party coincided with the first night of
August’s full moon, only a niggle of warning flashed in the back of Declan’s
mind.
“Are
you sure you want to go?” Declan asked Lizbet as they browsed the bookstore for
used textbooks. He would be a freshman at the University of Washington at the
end of September and Lizbet would start classes at Queen Anne Community College
a couple of weeks before that.
“Sure,
why not?” Lizbet flipped her curls over her shoulder and gave him a smile that
sent him over the moon.
“Well,
it’s not as if you’re friends…”
“But
she’s your friend, right?”
“Yeah,
but…”
“Come
on, it’ll be good for me. I’m trying to be more social.” She bumped him with
her hip before moving down the aisle. She glanced at her list of required books
for the upcoming semester.
“You’re
plenty social.” Declan trailed after her, but stopped as a title caught his
eye.
The Meaning and Translation of
Dreams. He pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open.
People who are anxious or overtired
are more likely to sleepwalk or experience sleep terrors. A relaxing bedtime
routine paired with an early bedtime can help prevent sleep disturbances.
Avoid sleepwalking injuries by
making the bedroom and house as safe as possible. Consider the following
precautions:
Make sure there are no sharp or
breakable objects near the bed.
Install gates on stairways.
Lock doors and windows.
If psychological stress contributes
to disordered sleep, counseling may help. Both children and adults may benefit
from hypnosis or biofeedback.
In some cases, a doctor may
prescribe short-acting sleep or antianxiety medications to reduce or eliminate
episodes.
Seek professional help if:
Episodes are frequent or severe.
The sleepwalker gets injured during
episodes.
The sleepwalker leaves the house.
Nighttime episodes are accompanied
by daytime sleepiness.
Stress, anxiety or other
psychological factors may be contributing to sleep disturbances.
Sleepwalkers occasionally injure
themselves or others. But most episodes of sleepwalking and sleep terrors are
brief and harmless.
Lizbet
glanced over his shoulder. “What’s this?”
He
slammed the book shut. “Nothing.”
“You
having problems sleeping?”
“Not
really. Just that one night.” He slipped the book back onto the shelf.
“What
night?” she pressed.
He
shrugged her question off. “Listen. It makes sense. Talking animals,
werewolves, and were-Schnauzers. Anyone would have nightmares. It was a lot to
process.” A sudden memory assaulted him and he closed his eyes, trying to tune
it out.
Hunger burned the back of his
throat and tightened his gut. He padded across the forest floor. A carpeting of
pine needles and soft soil muffled his footfalls. Above the trees’ canopy, a
smattering of stars glistened, pale against a cloud-filled night. Mist shrouded
the round, full strawberry moon.
He sat back on his haunches and
lifted his head toward the moon. Snatches of conversations drifted by.
Apprehension surged through his blood. He gazed at his paw…so foreign. How had
he transformed into this creature? Standing on all fours, he loped through the
woods aimlessly, fighting the hunger that zinged through his veins.
“Of
course.” Lizbet looped her arm around his and pulled him into a sideways hug
and out of the memory. Hallucination. Nightmare…whatever it was.
“It’s
amazing that we’re both not bonkers,” she said.
“Bonkers,”
he murmured. His gaze landed on another book, Mental Health for Dummies.
He
needed help.
#
Music
thrummed through the open windows. Someone had hung a disco ball from the
dining room chandelier and shafts of multicolored light sparkled on the dark
lawn. Kids in jeans, T-shirts, and UW hoodies lounged on the front porch.
Lizbet wanted to belong, but she still felt like a poser. This was Declan’s
world, as foreign to her as the moon.
She
picked out Baxter, Declan’s oversized friend, Maria, her friend and neighbor,
and McNally, another friend of Declan’s from East End High’s basketball team
all standing in a tight circle just inside the double-wide doors. She tightened
her grip on Declan’s hand.
He
wore jeans, flip-flops, and a Twenty One Pilots T-shirt. Trying to fit in,
she’d chosen a nearly identical outfit, but her T-shirt and jeans couldn’t hide
her curves…and nothing could tame her curls.
As
if sensing her insecurity, Declan dropped a quick kiss on her temple.
“Who’s
that with Nicole?” she asked, nodding at a guy with a Cross-Fitter’s build
leaning against the porch railing, his eyes trained on Nicole, a lithe blonde
with flushed cheeks.
“Jason
Norbit. Her old squeeze. They broke up a while ago.”
“You
mean when she applied to Duke?”
Declan
dipped his chin. “He’s going to UW on a football scholarship.”
Lizbet
bit her bottom lip as she followed Declan up the porch steps and through the
doorway. She had her own theories about why Nicole had applied to Duke.
Nicole
was beautiful in an ice-queen way. Her home had the same understated
elegance—the disco ball being the notable exception. Someone had carried the
dining room table out through the French doors to the back patio and people
danced on the hardwood floor beneath the spinning lights.
“Want
to dance?” Declan asked.
“No.”
The thought horrified her. She’d never danced before in front of a crowd. Her
thoughts flitted back to the first time she had ever danced…with Declan…in the
moonlight. Dancing had turned to kissing. That had been a first for her, too.
“Do you?”
He
shook his head, grinned, and put his hand on her shoulder to steer her outside
to his cluster of friends surrounding the food-piled dining room table.
Nicole
waylaid them. “Hey, Declan. Any second thoughts about ditching Duke?”
Declan
shook his head. “Sorry, Nicki, you’re on your own.”
Jason
pulled himself away from the wall and draped his arm across Nicole’s shoulder.
“Not quite on her own. There’s only about three thousand in the freshman
class.”
Lizbet
wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a flicker of irritation in Nicole’s eyes.
McNally
appeared at Declan’s side and elbowed him. “Yeah, now that you’re going to UW,
have you thought about playing intermural basketball?”
“Basketball?”
A girl Lizbet didn’t know broke into the conversation. “That’s no fun. What
about ultimate frisbee?” She flashed Declan a smile full of perfectly straight,
bright white teeth. “That’s co-ed.”
“How about you?” Jason nodded at Lizbet.
“Where you headed?”
“Queen
Anne Community,” Lizbet said. “Staying local.”
Jason’s
gaze swept over her and lingered on her lips. “Me, too.” He lifted his soda
bottle as if to clink her invisible goblet in a toast.
Lizbet
sent Declan a quick glance, but he was lost in conversation with McNally and
the unknown girl, debating the virtues of basketball and ultimate frisbee.
Jason
leaned forward, placing his hand on the wall directly behind Lizbet and making
her feel pinned. “What’s your story?”
Lizbet
knew he wouldn’t believe her if she were stupid enough to tell him. She tested
him. “Well, last month I killed a werewolf. How about you?”
He
laughed as if she were joking. “So you’re like Buffy? A vampire slayer?”
“No
vampires,” she said in all seriousness. “I tend to stick to creatures.”
He
nodded and a glint she didn’t like filled his eyes.
“Seriously,”
she said. “I’m auditing a mythology class from Professor Madison at the
University of Washington right now.”
“What
are you going to do with that? Kill more werewolves?”
“I’d
rather just scare them away.”
He
snorted. “You’re a tiny thing. It’s hard to believe you could scare anything.”
She
blinked at him. “You’d be surprised.”
“You’re
like a werewolf warrior?”
She
wanted to smile to show him his invasion of her personal space wasn’t making
her crazy, but the closer Jason pressed, the more uncomfortable she felt. She looked
over his shoulder for Declan, but couldn’t see him. Everyone else had deserted
the porch and gone inside. Annoyance flashed through her. She spotted a cat
sitting on the windowsill, watching them with slit eyes. She crooked a finger
at the animal. He responded by twitching his whiskers.
Jason
flicked a glance over his shoulder before turning back to Lizbet. The cat
stood, arched his back, and batted a dead moth out of the corner of the window
toward Jason’s crotch. Surprised, Jason jumped out of the line of fire.
Lizbet’s
lips twitched as she escaped. “Thanks,” she whispered to the cat as she went to
find Declan. She didn’t see him with his friends in the backyard, in the mass
of kids huddled in the kitchen, or in any of the circles of conversation in the
living room. She thought she heard his laughter floating up the stairwell that
led to the basement, but before she climbed halfway down, someone turned off
the lights and plunged the basement into inky darkness.
“Everyone
close your eyes,” a girl said.
Lizbet
froze on the stairs, unsure where to go or what to do. She risked tripping in
the dark in either direction.
“Vampire,
open your eyes and select your victim.” Someone switched on a flashlight and a
girl giggled.
Lizbet
hurried down the stairs.
“Stop!
Intruder!” Someone turned on the overhead light amidst groans.
Lizbet
swallowed hard, suddenly aware that somehow she’d inadvertently pooped on the
party.
The
girl who seemed to be in charge pointed at Lizbet. “State your name and
business.” She had a severe haircut and wore I-mean-business glasses, a black
turtleneck despite the warm summer night, and a pair of painted-on jeans.
“She’s
Lizbet and she’s with me.” Jason came up behind her and placed a heavy hand on
her shoulder. “’Scuse us for interrupting. Mind if we join you?”
A
couple of people made groaning sounds, but most murmured a welcome. The lights
were doused before Lizbet even got a look around the room to see if Declan was
in the crowd.
Jason
tugged at her hand and she fell into a cross-legged position beside him. “I
don’t know this game,” she whispered as she disentangled her fingers.
“It’s
easy. You’ll catch on.” Jason’s warm breath fanned against her cheek. “As a
werewolf warrior, you’ll be a natural.”
In
the darkness, he seemed closer than she would have guessed. She inched away
from him and bumped someone next to her. “Sorry,” she hissed and held herself
very still so as not to touch anyone else.
“Night
has fallen…again,” the game-master girl began. “While the villagers sleep, the
vampire works the wages of death. Vampire, open your eyes and select your
victim.”
“Keep
your eyes closed,” Jason whispered, and he squeezed Lizbet’s knee.
Moments
later, the game-master girl flipped on a flashlight. “Everyone open your eyes.”
She flicked the flashlight at the faces of the twenty or so kids seated on the
basement rug. When Lizbet saw Declan wasn’t in their number, she wanted to
leave, but she’d already interrupted the game once and didn’t want to do it
again.
“In
the dark of night, a vampire stole into the home at twenty-eight Reynolds.”
“Yeah!
That’s my house!” a redheaded kid with a smattering of freckles said.
The
game-master girl slid him the evil eye.
“While Carl slept, the vampire sucked his blood and left his lifeless
body on the library floor.”
“I
have a library. Cool,” Carl said.
“Yeah,
like that’s going to do you any good seeing as how you don’t read,” someone
said.
“Hush!”
a girl in a vintage Van Halen T-shirt hissed.
“You
can’t talk,” a guy with hair like a hedgehog said. “You’re dead.”
Carl
looked as if he wanted to argue, but he bit his tongue.
“I’m
not sure I want to play this game,” Lizbet whispered to Jason.
“You
better be quiet, or else the vampire will kill you, too,” Jason whispered.
“I’d
be okay with that,” Lizbet returned, “seeing as how I don’t want to play.”
“Silence!”
the game-master girl called out. “Villagers, who among you executed this
dastardly deed?” she asked as she flashed the light into the blinking faces of
her friends. “Who is the vampire?”
Speculations
and laughter flew. Lizbet tried to be a good sport, but with Jason’s thigh
pressing against hers, she felt increasingly uncomfortable. The guy sitting on
her other side had excessive arm and leg hair so that every time she bumped
into him she felt like she was touching a fur ball. Plus, he had onion breath.
“Okay!
New round!” The game-master girl stood and flipped on the overhead light,
illuminating the orange shag carpet and plaid sofas pushed up against the
wood-paneled walls. “Everyone turn in your cards.”
Lizbet
had missed something.
Declan,
Baxter, and McNally followed by Nicole and a couple of girls trooped down the
stairs.
“Hey,
can we join in?” Baxter asked. Lizbet had observed that because Baxter was so
big, people rarely told him no. The circle widened to let him in while Declan
inserted himself next to Lizbet.
“What
brought you down here?” Declan whispered in her ear.
“I
was looking for you.”
“Hmm,
I was looking for you, too.” He kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Not
yet, Lamb.”
“Sorry,”
Declan said, sounding not in the least repentant.
Nicole,
who had wedged herself on the other side of Jason, rolled her eyes.
The
game-master girl hit the lights. “Villagers, close your eyes! Night has fallen
in the village of the doomed. While the villagers slumber, the vampire stalks
his prey.”
Someone
dropped in front of Lizbet and planted a sloppy wet kiss on her lips. She struggled
and pushed him off.
“Yeah!
That’s the game!” Jason said.
“Sorry,
I…” Lizbet jumped to her feet. “I told you I didn’t want to play.” Embarrassed,
she crawled over people in the dark until she found the stairs and felt her way
out of the basement. In the kitchen, she realized that Declan had followed her.
“Ugh.”
She covered her face with her hands. “That was awful.”
He
laughed. “Don’t let Jason hear you say that.”
She
shuddered. “Can we go?”
“Sure.”
He draped his arm around her shoulder. “It was just a game.”
“I
know. It wasn’t a big deal.” But it felt like it was.
