Into the Aether_Part One(13)

Lara laughed, which quickly turned into a pained expression. “No, nothing like that. Except for today when I threw that kid clear across the room.”

“I don’t remember that,” he said, his eyebrows raised.

“That’s because you were shielding your eyes from my awesomeness!” she said with a wink.

Greg grinned. He gazed down at her clothed arm, which was resting on her ribs. “Lara, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit sore,” she responded, waving away his worry. “Most of the time, people don’t even realize I’m in their dream. If I want them to wake up, I touch their shoulder. Except...”

“Except for today,” he finished her sentence. “Why is today so special?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure how we woke up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we were in that other boy’s dream, right? I didn’t touch him, yet we both woke up.”

Greg sat back in his chair. “What about the inkblot?”

“What about it? He was part of that boy’s nightmare.”

“Yeah, but he—it—wasn’t interested in him. He went right for you.”

“What are you getting at?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“Okay, bear with me for a second,” he said, raising his hands with his palms facing Lara. “It was his dream, but if that thing was part of it, wouldn’t the inkblot have been interested in him? You said most of the time, people don’t even notice you. It came at you and pinned you against the wall. Didn't it also say something... ‘Mare’?” Lara shifted in her seat. “Isn’t a mare a female horse?”

“What an ass! I’m not a horse!” she said, sitting back in her chair again, arms crossed.

“A horse is a horse, of course, of course,” Greg said in a sing-song voice.

Lara stuck out her tongue at him. “I’m not a horse,” she replied quietly with a pout.

“Obviously you're not a horse. Either I misheard him, or a 'Mare' is something else entirely,” Greg said in an uncharacteristically mature fashion. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. She smiled up at him. For the first time, she noticed his soothing grey eyes, and studied him further. Greg had an angular face with high cheekbones and a cleft chin. She liked his light stubble, which matched his messy brown hair, giving him a devil-may-care look. Greg was, in fact, very cute.

“Lara?” he asked.

“Yeah?” she said lazily.

“Are you spacing out on me?” he said with a subtle grin. She shook her head and sat upright in her chair. She gave another pained expression, moving her arm back to her ribs.

“What's wrong?”

“My ribs are sore for some reason.”

“Lift up your shirt.” She gaped at him. “Not that far, just below your, uh, lady bits,” he replied, his face turning a deep shade of red. Lara lifted her shirt up above her belly button, just below her bra. A large blue–colored bruise spread across her torso. “Holy crap!” he said, standing up and knocking over the chair. Lara sat and stared at herself in stunned silence. “We have to get you to a clinic or something!”

“And tell them what? Hello, Doctor, I was recently attacked by an inkblot monster while gallivanting in somebody’s dream.”

“Tell them anything but that!” he replied seriously.

“Greg, I’m being sarcastic.”

“Oh, well. We have to go. We’ll take my car,” he said, stuffing the remains of their lunch into his backpack. “First we have to get our jackets, then we’ll sign out at the office. We’ll go to my car, then the hospital,” he said, numbering the items on his fingers.

“What if I don’t want to?” she asked, pulling down her shirt.

“It started with my dream. It’s my fault that thing attacked you.” He took her by the hand and gently pulled her up. She let out an exasperated sigh as they headed for the door. “Lara, has something like this ever happened before?”

“No, never,” she said as a cold prickle ran down her spine.





Four





Aaron sat in the back seat of the Comfort Limousine sedan as it made its way through the snowy streets to the hotel. He rubbed his eyes, feeling weary from his travels. The time on his cell phone read 10:23 pm.

Outside, a flurry of snow encompassed the vehicle. It took on an odd orange color from the street lights lining the roads. Buildings passed by so quickly he couldn't discern any details. He was mildly disappointed; this was his first trip into Canada and he couldn't even take in the sights.

“Where are you from?” Phillip asked from the driver’s seat.

“Dalhousie, Indiana. It’s about a six-and-a-half-hour drive from here.” Phillip raised an eyebrow. “I don’t own a car,” he finished.

“Why did you fly into Toronto and not Hamilton, then?”

“Actually I’d prefer not to fly at all. I used the points on my credit card, but it only lets me take certain airlines.”

“Well, I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

“It started off rough, but it ended well,” Aaron replied, smiling. Phillip looked back at him through the rearview mirror and opened his mouth, then closed it again.