Synergy (See #3)(2)

When Madison wasn’t with me, she was with Britain. Though they weren’t officially a couple, I could see how he made her happy; it was a shallow happiness, though, because according to her, she was on a spiritual journey, one that had no room for a boyfriend.

I assumed that thought process came from the books she was reading, the ones that spoke of illumination, finding your truth. Over the last few days, we’d debated the idea that life was nothing but a dream created by our thoughts and intent, that everything before us was nothing but a distraction to what life, existence really was.

The debate was that she’d pretty much committed to that belief, that she was seeking answers on a deeper level. My argument was that life was too real to be a dream. That even if she were right, this theory of hers, we were lucid in this dream. I did agree that most of the world was not, but the shadows, the darkness that we’d helped all of our lives, led me to believe that dream or not, we had a purpose, one that would bring change to all of existence, one that would correct the wrong that was once done.

I feared that her newfound spiritual path had allowed her not to fear Britain, as she should; she seemed to accept what he was without question. Madison told me that she not only had to accept him, but also the shadows if she were to raise above dualities, the idea that one thing is right or wrong. Madison thought that we were all right and all wrong, that we only saw something as dark if it wasn’t as we believed. Once again, I both agreed and disagreed. I was happy that the anger she had for the shadows we were forced into helping was gone, that she now helped with compassion and patience - but at the same time, I couldn’t rise above my hatred for Bianca, or others like her.

When Madison spoke harshly about her or when we went to The Realm to hunt her, I would tease her about her new moral standing with dualities, and she’d counter that she was new at this and that some hate takes time to die. Basically, she hated her as much as I did and sought revenge as if it were her heart, her boyfriend, which was tempted by Bianca. I assumed it was her sixth sense that fueled this, the fact that she could not only see, but also feel my emotions as if they were hers.

I was afraid that Austin would come back and either Draven wouldn’t tell me or he’d tell him that we weren’t ready, so I made it a point to see Wesley every day. We’d become friends - jogging buddies, at least. Every morning we ran two miles around the town of Salem. The workout helped me release all those built up emotions and some of the stress.

I reached for my phone to see that it was now 5:55 AM. Those numbers haunted me, and I didn’t know why. I felt like they were a sign. I even had Madison look them up for me, and what she found was both reassuring and frightening. Those numbers stood for change; they were a message from our spirit guides (if you believe in such things) that a life-changing event or events were near.

I threw back my covers and sat up as I grudgingly rubbed my hands across my face. The gentle sound of my father’s guitar elevated as if to say hello. I smiled slightly.

“Bad dreams, Dad.” I nodded at my phone. “5:55 again...are you trying to say something? Is it almost time to leave?”

The sound of the guitar didn’t change. I sighed as I stood and half-heartedly pulled my covers over my bed before walking down the steps to my old room. Lately, my father had kept his distance; there wasn’t room for him in my dreams with the nightmares, and he rarely appeared in my waking hours. I almost felt like he was preparing me for a goodbye by not letting me become dependent on him, on his direction.

When I reached the bottom stair, I found Madison’s bed empty, but Monroe was in hers, and she wasn’t sleeping soundly; she was drenched in sweat, and she was thrashing her head from side to side as if she were witnessing something horrible. I ran to her side, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her awake. She shot up, letting out a deep gasp of breath. Her dark eyes were wide as she tried to gauge where she was.

“Look at me! Look at me!” I said loudly as I pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. “Just a dream...just a dream...you’re fine.”

She shook her head from side to side, telling me I was wrong. I sat down next to her and tried to hide the concern in my eyes.

“Did you dream of ash? Screaming?”

She looked down. “Father,” she whispered.

I tried to remain calm, but my eyes grew wide. Monroe had never talked about her father. None of us knew who or what he was, or even where, but we had our suspicions that he was in The Realm somewhere. Madison even thought he was controlling it somehow. Grayson and Winston didn’t offer much insight on the matter either...well, at least I think they didn’t; for all I know, they could have told Draven since they were all best friends now.

“What happened?” I asked gently.

“He wants me to come.” She quivered.

“Come where, Monroe?”

She looked away, avoiding my eyes.

“Listen, you aren’t going anywhere you don’t want to go, you hear me? I’ll protect you – I swear.”

She swallowed hard. “He’ll hurt you…he’s sending more...because those that are here refuse to take your light.”

“Those that are here?” I asked hoarsely. “You mean Draven? Your brothers?”

“And Britain,” she said tearfully.

“No one is going to hurt me. I promise.”

Tears streamed down her face as she moved her head from side to side.