Page 2 of In Her Dreams
There was no reply, but as he stared at the dreamcatcher, he realized the voice hadn’t come from behind or beside him.It had emerged from the very center of the web, the words somehow forming in the spaces between the woven strands.
“Step back,” Betty’s voice commanded, ethereal yet unmistakable in its urgency.“It’s not what you think.It’s made of fear, Richard.And it’s hungry, Richard.It swallowed me, and now it wants you too.You’ve got to fight it.You’ve got to stay away from it.”
Richard tried to retreat, to heed the warning.His body refused to comply.He stood frozen, arm still outstretched, muscles locked in place as if he’d suddenly transformed into stone.
“I can’t move,” he thought in rising panic.“God help me, I can’t move.”
Before his horrified eyes, the dreamcatcher began to grow.It expanded rapidly, the pattern stretching and distorting until it covered the entire wall from floor to ceiling.The room had contracted to its final dimensions—a claustrophobic bubble with Richard at its center and the monstrous dreamcatcher filling his entire field of vision.
In the depths of the web, shapes began to form.Faces pressed against some invisible barrier, features contorted in expressions of agony and terror.Some Richard recognized—his father, dead for twenty years; his childhood friend Mark, who’d drowned one summer at Lake Waubesa; colleagues from the bank; neighbors; people whose names he couldn’t recall but whose faces triggered sparks of recognition.
And there, in the very center of the terrible web, was Betty.Her face, so beloved and familiar, was twisted in a silent scream.Her eyes, the warm brown that had always looked at him with love, now wide with horror and warning.She mouthed words he couldn’t hear, pressing despairingly against the barrier that held her captive.
Horror clawed at Richard’s insides as understanding dawned.The Chantico Rite hadn’t cured him at all.It had done something far worse.It had connected him to...something else.Something that had been feeding on his fears, on his memories, on everyone he’d ever loved or known.
For two months, it had been luring him in, letting him believe he was healed, all while it prepared for this moment.How many others had it taken?How many were trapped in that otherworldly net?
The dreamcatcher pulsated now, its hunger a palpable force in the air.Richard felt it reaching for him, probing the edges of his consciousness.He fought against his paralysis with everything he had, straining to lower his arm, to back away, to run.
His lips parted, a scream building in his throat.At last, his frozen vocal cords loosened.
“Bet—” was all he managed before the web lurched forward.
There was no time to finish his wife’s name.No time for a final prayer or thought.In one terrible moment, the snare engulfed him entirely.A sensation of falling, of being pulled through space that wasn’t space at all.Of being turned inside out, his consciousness fragmented and scattered like seeds in a storm.
Then darkness.Complete and absolute.
CHAPTER ONE
“You sure about this?”Jake asked Jenna as she guided the patrol car through the early morning stillness of Trentville’s deserted streets.Dawn had barely broken, painting the horizon in smudges of pale gold against a fading indigo canvas.
She nodded, her emerald eyes fixed on the road unwinding before them.“As sure as I can be about something that came to me in a dream.”Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she remembered the fragments in her mind—the dark chamber, the whispers, and that face illuminated by a single match flame.The words still echoed in her head: “They are collecting people.”
She felt Jake studying her profile and appreciated that he didn’t dismiss her intuition.About a month ago, after two years working together, she’d described how her lucid dreams brought her hints from the dead.A former city cop who’d come to Trentville for a quieter life, he’d had trouble accepting that at first.But soon, he’d had to acknowledge that many of those tips turned into solid leads.
“Tell me again,” he said, taking a careful sip from his coffee cup.“From the beginning.”
Jenna inhaled deeply, organizing her thoughts.The dreams were always difficult to articulate, slippery as fish in her mental grasp.
“A week ago, I found myself in this...chamber.Stone walls, damp air.So dim I could barely make out anything.”She paused at a stop sign, scanning the empty intersection before continuing forward.“There were voices all around me, whispering.I couldn’t make out what they were saying at first.”
The car bumped over a pothole, jostling them.Jake steadied his coffee and waited for her to continue.
“Then this man struck a match.Just one.The light barely illuminated his face, but I could see his eyes—wide, terrified.”Jenna swallowed, remembering the intensity of that gaze.“He said, ‘They are collecting people.’And then I woke up.”
“And last night?”Jake prompted.
“Same man.Different setting—somewhere brighter, but I couldn’t make out details beyond him.”She turned onto the road that would take them to the outskirts of town.“He told me he’d been killed.Cut up and sold.”
Jake winced, his brow furrowing.
“That’s not all,” Jenna added.“He said, ‘The collected people are in the mine.’“ Jenna glanced at Jake.“That must mean the old Shannon Coal Company mine, Jake.The one that’s been abandoned for most of a century.”
The road beneath them changed, smooth asphalt giving way to cracked pavement spotted with weeds.The houses along the street showed signs of neglect—peeling paint, sagging porches, yards overtaken by nature.
“I’ve been sheriff for four years,” Jenna said, slowing the car as they approached a particularly deep crack in the road.“I’ve had these dreams since I was sixteen, since my sister disappeared.They’ve never led me wrong.”
Jake nodded, his expression serious.“I know.I’ve seen enough to believe you.”He gestured toward the neglected neighborhood around them.“Just seems like a strange place to hide people.Isn’t it a bit obvious?People still live around here.”
