Beth had fallen asleep. “Just let her be,” Ivy said as she and Kelsey played on.
Forty-five minutes later, Ivy got up to stretch. With her back turned to Kelsey, she tried to peer through the window over the sink, but she couldn’t see beyond the screen to the woods. How close did Gregory have to be to seed a dream? They couldn’t stay awake all night.
“Want another Coke?” Ivy asked, pouring herself one.
When she didn’t get an answer, she turned around. Kelsey’s eyes were shut. Ivy hurried over to the table. “Kelsey, wake up.”
Kelsey’s back rested against the wooden chair, but her shoulders were slumped and her head had fallen forward. Ivy gently raised her chin. Beneath Kelsey’s closed lids, her eyes moved rapidly—she was dreaming.
“Kelsey, wake up!” Ivy said sharply. She shook her by the shoulders, but Kelsey remained asleep.
“Beth,” Ivy said, reaching for her friend’s hand.
“What—what is it?” Beth asked, startled, then quickly awakened. Realizing what had happened, she rose from her chair. “Come on, Kelsey. Open your eyes!”
Kelsey was murmuring and twitching. Though her words and movements were hindered by sleep, she sounded angry. Sweat beaded her brow.
With light fingers, Beth slapped her on the cheek, then Ivy fetched ice cubes and rubbed them on Kelsey’s hands and forehead.
Kelsey’s eyes flew open. “Get away from me!” she cried.
Ivy stepped back. “I was just trying to—”
“I said get away!” Her eyes flashed and color burned high in her cheeks.
“Kelsey, hush,” Beth said firmly. “Wake up. Clear your head. It was just a dream.”
But Kelsey was furious. “You won’t stop, will you, Ivy? I get it now. You always want the guy you can’t have, the guy who’s not yours. Luke, Bryan—you’re hot for the challenge.”
Ivy shook her head and laid a hand on Kelsey’s arm. “Listen to me—”
Kelsey shook it off. “You compete for guys! That’s your kind of sport!”
“Kelsey, calm down,” Ivy said. “Tell me what you dreamed.”
“It’s not Luke you’re sneaking out to see,” Kelsey replied. “It’s Bryan.”
Ivy grimaced. Gregory had always been skilled at using a person’s fears.
“You’re fooling around with Bryan. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“In your dream,” Ivy said.
“Not just in my dream. I always see you guys together.”
“But Bryan is the flirt. He does it just to push your buttons.”
Kelsey struggled to get out of the chair. Her legs were wobbly. “Get away from me!”
“Not until we straighten this out.”
“Get away!” Kelsey’s voice became shrill. “I don’t want you anywhere near me. Or Bryan!” She pushed past Ivy. Using the banister, she pulled herself up the steps to the bedroom.
Ivy felt Beth’s hands on her arms, holding her in place. “She can’t think past her dream,” Beth said quietly. “Let it go.”
“I’m not letting him win,” Ivy argued back.
“If you force her to defend her dream, it will only make it more real in her mind. We’ll try to reason through things tomorrow.”
Ivy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She doubted things would look any different to Kelsey in the morning. “It’s just like before, Beth. He’s going after the people close to me. No one’s safe.”
“It’s you I’m worried about,” Beth replied. “I can help Chase—at least, he’s responding to my texts and phone calls. As for Kelsey, Dhanya, and Max—their dreams will fade. Gregory’s just using them for practice.” Beth reached for Ivy’s fingers and placed her paler, dovelike hands around them, folding them as if in prayer. “You know who Gregory really wants to take down.”
“Yes.”
Beth rested her forehead against Ivy’s. “I won’t let him have you. Not ever!”
HIDDEN IN THE WOODS ABOUT SIXTY FEET FROM THE cottage, Tristan had been keeping silent guard. The woods behind him ran west and north, thinning along the tumbled stone wall that was the border between Aunt Cindy’s and her neighbor’s. When Tristan had arrived, the cottage’s kitchen light was on, and it had stayed lit for a long time. He watched and waited, wondering how close Gregory had to be to seed a dream. His gut had told him Gregory would strike again quickly.
Suddenly, there was activity in the kitchen. Tristan heard Kelsey’s raised voice. He wanted to charge the cottage, but he forced himself to remain hidden, suspecting that his quarry was doing the same. Thirty feet behind him, a dark shape slowly rose from the ground shadows and became a silhouette against the lighter mosaic of trees. Gregory lifted his arms and raised his face to the sky in triumph.
Anger burned in Tristan. A dark breeze, a flicker of malice, tossed the tree branches around them.
Gregory turned his head quickly, as if listening. “Hello, Tristan.”
Tristan straightened up and walked toward him. “Gregory.”
“You came for the show. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
They met in a pool of moonlight at the base of a dead tree.
“Why are you viewing the show from back here?” Gregory asked in a genial voice. “Move closer. Peek in a window. Kelsey can be very entertaining.”
“I’m not interested in Kelsey.”
“You’re interested in anyone who touches Ivy,” Gregory replied, leaning against the charred tree. “And so am I.”
A low, satisfied murmuring riffled the leaves around them.
With his index finger, Gregory traced the long scar of a lightning strike burnt in the tree’s white flesh. “Power,” he said, his voice as silky as a lover’s. “Can you produce lightning, Tristan? Can you do it on demand?”
“I don’t wish to.”
Gregory laughed. “I didn’t ask you what you wish.” He tilted his head and looked Tristan up and down, as if assessing his strength. The body was Bryan’s, but the arrogant pose was Gregory’s. “I can’t control lightning,” he confessed, “not yet, but I can produce it. I’ve killed with it.”
Tristan’s hands itched to grab him by the throat and throw him to the ground. An ominous soughing stirred the trees.
“We’re stuck in these bodies, aren’t we,” Gregory said. “The voices forgot to mention that little detail until I was securely inside this one. If we die in these bodies, we can’t return.”
“So maybe you should think twice before playing with lightning.”
“Is that why you held back?” Gregory asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You knew my identity before I knew yours. Why didn’t you strike first? What are you afraid of, Tristan?”
“Nothing.”
Gregory snickered. “Anyone who has something to lose is afraid. That’s the problem with love. It gives you something to lose.”
The sinister murmur awakened into distinct voices: Now. Ever. Ours.
“Why aren’t you dream seeding?” Gregory persisted. “It’s a lot of fun.”
“I don’t need victims to make me feel like I’m alive.”
“Back when I was alive,” Gregory said, “you could slip inside people’s minds. Mine, Eric’s—you prowled around our dreams. This dream seeding ought to be a piece of cake for you.”
The muscles in Tristan’s arms tightened. His fists were sharp knuckles.
“Wait a minute,” Gregory said, his voice charged with amusement. “I should have guessed it—you didn’t choose to be in the body of a wanted murderer. You got your wings clipped!”
Now. Ever. Ours.
“What are you doing time for?” Gregory taunted. “Something to do with Ivy. She’ll bring you down if anybody will.”
Tristan struggled to control the emotions roiling within him.
Which way? Which way? the voices asked.
“What do you want, Gregory?”
“I think you know,” the demon replied coolly.
/> “Revenge. But then, why are you holding back? You know where Ivy is, where I am. And you have nothing to lose. Why haven’t you killed us?”
The power is within you, the voices said.
Gregory laid a patronizing hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “The tragedy is, once Ivy’s dead, the fun is over.”
Tristan shook off his hand.
“Think about it, Tristan. It’s the dying that’s so entertaining.”
A mix of anger and horror ran through Tristan’s veins.
“I’ve watched Ivy have a great life at my expense—”
“At your expense!” Tristan exclaimed.
“And I deserve more,” Gregory went on, “than watching her die a quick and painless death. Bang bang, Ivy’s dead—how unsatisfying!”
You deserve more, the voices said.
“If you touch her,” Tristan threatened, “if you do anything to hurt her—”
“She owes me! And I will make her pay.” Gregory’s words thrummed low and intense beneath the rising pitch of the voices. “I will draw her blood, drop by drop.”
Tristan lunged at him. The voices shrilled with pleasure. He dragged Gregory to the ground, then pulled up and slammed his fist into Gregory’s jaw again and again, until his knuckles bled.
The power is within you, the voices shouted.
Pinned beneath Tristan, Gregory fought back, his strong arms raising Tristan off his chest so he could roll out from under him. Leaping to his feet, Gregory kicked Tristan in the head, then hard in the gut, making him gasp for breath.
The power and the glory! the voices cried.
Struggling to stand, Tristan reeled backward into the dead tree. Gregory took off running for the old stone wall. Tristan raced after him, catching him at the base. Gregory scrambled up the pile of rocks. Tristan followed, grabbing him from behind. They struggled, and the loose stones at the top gave way. Grappling with each other, they slid together down the heap.
At the bottom, Tristan’s fingers closed around the end of a jagged rock. It was too heavy to pick up in one hand. But as the voices grew in number, as their pitch climbed, a sudden, unnatural strength surged inside him. Kneeling on Gregory, grasping the rock, Tristan lifted his arm. The face below him stared up in terror. Tristan had Gregory where he wanted him: He would crush the serpent’s head until Gregory’s spirit bled out of it.
Take what is yours! the voices told him.
Gregory’s life—and his own—this was what the voices wanted. If he killed, if he served hell’s demons, he would be beyond redemption. But damnation was worth it, if it kept Ivy safe.
A sacrifice! A sacrifice! the voices screamed, triumphant. Now, ever, ours!
Now, ever . . . theirs. Theirs in hell for eternity, an eternity without Ivy. Forever without Ivy.
Tristan bowed his head. He was able to pray just two words. Angels. Help.
Slowly his grasp on the rock loosened, and the weapon slipped to the ground.
Standing up, Tristan dragged Gregory to his feet. “Get out of here!” He pushed Gregory away, though his hands still ached to hurt him. “Get out of my sight!”
Gregory rubbed his bruises, smirked at Tristan, then slunk away.
Fifteen
SUNDAY MORNING, WITH KELSEY STILL FUMING, IVY and Beth switched jobs, Ivy teaming up with Will to serve breakfast. While they were sweeping the last pastry crumbs and flower petals off the porch, Beth joined them.
Will’s face lit up. “Hey, ready for our bike ride this afternoon?”
Beth hesitated. “I was wondering if we could go in the evening instead.”
Ivy saw the disappointment on Will’s face, though he quickly hid it. “Did something come up?”
“During my break I talked to Chase.”
“Oh.”
When Will didn’t say anything else, Ivy asked, “How is he?”
“He says he’s okay,” Beth replied, “but I can tell from his voice that he isn’t. Will, I really think I should go over there this afternoon.”
Will picked up a chair and returned it to its place near the end of the porch.
“I think Chase needs someone to talk to right now.”
“You mean someone to listen to him,” Will countered. “That’s all he wants, an audience while he holds forth in all his brilliance.”
“I can help him,” Beth persisted.
Will raised an eyebrow. “You know a cure for an ego on steroids?”
Ivy smiled at the apt description.
“I’ve been through the same thing he has,” Beth explained. “I’m the only other person who knows what it’s like.”
“So, he’s admitting he was possessed,” Will said.
Beth shook her head. “Well, no, not exactly.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Can’t we ride later? It’ll be cooler and prettier.”
“Sure,” Will replied. “Whenever.” Turning his back, he moved another chair, one that didn’t need to be repositioned.
Beth glanced up at Ivy, shrugged, then left. It was so tempting to assure Will he had nothing to worry about. Ivy felt as if she was bursting with the secret that each of them was keeping, but they needed to tell each other what was in their hearts, not have a friend fix things for them.
After work Ivy changed into cooler shorts and a hoodie, slipped her cell phone in her pocket, and headed toward the beach. When she reached the top of the long flight of steps to the dunes, she saw Will sitting on the landing halfway down. Ivy hesitated, then walked down slowly—noisily—giving him warning and trying to assess whether he wanted her company.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied softly.
Ivy gazed out at the sea, following with her eyes its sweep around the end of Nauset Beach.
“So, did you tell Tristan about Kelsey?” he asked.
“I’m going to,” she said, patting the phone in her pocket.
Sitting on the steps above the landing, Ivy leaned back against the boards, watching the gulls perform their aerial act above the frothy net of the ocean. Will’s hands often betrayed his impatience with others, but they were still now. There was a chance he wanted to talk.
“Why does she still care?” Will blurted out.
“You mean why does Beth care about Chase?”
“It’s not like he’s been nice to her.”
Ivy shrugged. “Beth is kind to people whether or not they’ve been nice to her. You know that. It’s one of the reasons you and I love her.”
“It’s a girl thing,” Will said, his anger surfacing. “Girls like needy guys.”
“Whoa! Excuse me!” Ivy exclaimed, then laughed.
Will looked a bit sheepish. “Okay. But you have to admit, Beth has always been attracted to him.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Ivy thought.
“You remember how she was the night we met him at the ice-cream shop,” Will said. “She kept saying how ‘gorgeous’ he was, like he was the only guy who had ever grown a few inches taller, the only guy with a pair of shoulders. She said he was like one of her romance characters come to life.”
Ivy thought back to that moment, when she and Will were still a couple. Perhaps what she had interpreted as grouchiness on Will’s part was something more than either she or Will had realized at the time. Ivy began to smile.
“What?” Will asked, turning to look at her.
“I was just remembering how awful you were, when Chase was bragging about his skiing and you made up that story about your terrible accident and how your doctor warned that you might never walk again. For a moment poor Chase was speechless.”
“It was a very short moment,” Will replied, then laughed a little.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, his face serious again. Ivy studied Will’s profile, his dark hair and dark lashes. She knew the depth in his soulful eyes.
“Will, everybody has a romantic dream of a lover, but when we meet the real one, and we feel love beyond anything we could ever ima
gine, that old dream person melts away.”
She saw him swallow hard.
“Do you love her?” she asked.
“I care about her deeply.”
“Good,” Ivy said, “but that’s not what I asked. Are you in love with Beth?”
He didn’t reply. She followed his eyes and watched two boats slip through the inlet, venturing out of the protected waters, looking small against the expanse of ocean.
“Why don’t you tell Beth how you feel?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’re already in love—you can’t undo those feelings. What do you have to lose by telling her?”
“My best friend.”
“Because if her feelings aren’t the same, you think she’ll back away from you?”
He nodded.
“And yet, after all the grief that Chase has given her, obsessing over her and trying to control her, then running after Dhanya, she still cares enough to try to help him. Don’t underestimate Beth’s strength. When it comes to relationships, Beth is the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
Will took a ragged breath. “I love her so much, I ache.”
Ivy looked to her left, to where the working and pleasure boats would return to moor for the night and the water that lapped the shore where Tristan was hiding. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”
AFTER A BEACH NAP AND WALK, IVY HEADED TO St. Peter’s to practice piano, stopping for a takeout dinner on the way. Arriving at the church, she found the rectory closed up and a note taped to the door: Fr. John will return at 6:30. She decided to wait for the key and wandered around the building, to the priest’s garden.
Ivy had visited it the day she brought along “Guy,” as she had first called Tristan when she knew him simply as a hospital runaway. He had helped Father John dig a new bed for roses along the edge of his fenced-in vegetable patch. Now, inside the fence, tomatoes reddened on their leafy stems; purple eggplants hung from staked bushes like oversize Christmas ornaments; cucumbers and squash sprawled with their sunny flowers and waxy fruit. Against the white pickets the rose bushes, though still small, bore blooms that glowed with the colors of sunset. A folding chair had been placed next to them, and Ivy sat there to eat.