Dreamland (Riley Bloom #3)(34)
“Oh, yeah?” I grumbled, grabbing the next slat and hurling it toward the ground. “Well, that’s just great, Balthazar. Seriously.
Thanks for sharing that. Thanks for the really useful, super-duper handy tip.” I frowned, blew my limp blond bangs out of my face, and removed the last remaining slat, eager to put some serious distance between us.
“This is not how you grow older. Winning is not all that you think it to be.”
“Oh, yeah? So just exactly how is it done then?” I asked, my voice thick with sarcasm, while the rest of me secretly hoped he might tell me.
“The way you grow older is … well, by growing older.” He nodded as though he’d just made some huge revelation.
I groaned, rolled my eyes, thinking: More useless words of wisdom from the great director himself! Then I ducked down low and placed one foot solidly on the outside.
“You have so much potential, but no idea how to channel it,” Balthazar said.
The next step came slower, I’m embarrassed to admit, but I was curious to see where he was headed with that.
“If you were not already apprenticing as a Soul Catcher, I would ask to train you as an assistant director. You are full of heart and fire. Every time you speak, I expect to see hot flames shooting out of your mouth.” Okay, I know I was supposed to be mad, but I couldn’t help but smile at that. It wasn’t entirely kind, but still, there was no denying it described me to a T.
“You also seem to have a fondness for ignoring the rules. Like the Dreamland closing time, for instance?”
My smile faded. And since I had no intention of sticking around for yet another lecture, I ducked and crouched ’til I was on the other side of the doorway. Already headed for the gate when Balthazar came after me, saying, “You have the soul of an artist. All great art is about bending rules—discovering a new way to blaze an old trail. You approach your afterlife with fierce determination and passion, and you love to win more than anything else. Qualities that must come in very handy in your job as a Soul Catcher, but, as you see, some souls will always choose to go their own way. It is just how it is. It bears no reflection on you.”
I gulped. I couldn’t help it. I guess I’d never thought of it that way. I figured the Council had made me a Soul Catcher because I could relate to the ghosts—because I knew firsthand what it’s like to cling to the earth plane, the old way of life, refusing to move on to where I truly belonged. But maybe they saw something more in me too. Maybe my fire and heart and determination and passion and desire to win above all … well, maybe that had also played a small part in why I was chosen to do what I do.
My thoughts were interrupted by Balthazar saying, “And while these are very good qualities to have, one must learn to direct and channel them in order to achieve great-ness. Without focus, they are just a pile of emotions left to run amok. It is the ability to channel one’s emotions that is the mark of maturity, no?”
My jaw dropped, while the rest of me stood as frozen and solid as … well, as a snowman. Suddenly understanding it—or at least part of it—feeling as though I’d just been handed one more piece to the puzzle.
Balthazar tilted his head back, peering up at a sky that while still mostly dark, showed hints of silvery brightness beginning to creep in—the promise of daylight to come. Then he looked at me and said, “There’s still some time before Dreamland officially opens for the day.” His fingers worked the silk scarf at his neck. “What do you say we check in on that sister of yours?”
21
The scene was perfectly staged. My landing was spoton. And yet, despite all of my preparation and training, it still took several tries to get it just right.
Ever kept running. Waking. Bailing on every happy scene I fought so hard to share with her. Forcing me to play out the same routine again and again—always starting with her laughing and smiling and pretending to go along—and ending with her running off the second I’d turn my back—scram-bling for the surface—determined to wake herself up.
“What am I doing wrong?” I called, standing on the stage, voice full of despair, squinting at Balthazar, who was perched in his fancy red director’s chair.
He shrugged, clearly not half as upset as me, saying, “You have done everything right.
Just like I taught you. But also like I taught you, there are no guarantees. Sometimes a dream jump just does not work. And while usually it is the fault of the jumper, in this case, considering that you were personally trained by me, the blame clearly lies with your sister. For some reason, she prefers not to see you.”
I stood there, stunned, speechless, knowing all the evidence seemed to support what he said, and yet, there’s no way it could possibly be true. Ever loved me! She missed me!
I knew it for a fact—despite how it may have looked.
Yet, I also knew that Balthazar was right, there was no doubt she was doing her best to avoid me.
“She is troubled. Feels very guilty about something. And your presence only seems to make it worse. She is convinced she is not deserving of the happiness that the sight of you brings.”
Omigawd, that’s it! Balthazar had just perfectly described my sister—the sole sur-vivor of the accident that wiped out my family.
Still, I was determined to get through. I had no idea when the chance might come again. “One more time,” I pleaded. “I mean, we still have time, right?”