Clara

  The city looks like a mesmerizing puzzle of lights and shadows. The sky is a deep blue, almost purple, and the stars are struggling to shine through the glow of the city below.

  I watch it all as my body plummets downwards, falling off the roof of the building.

  A girl in a white blouse is falling beside me, her short brown hair ruffled by the wind. Her eyes filled with fear as she stares at me.

  My mind races to make sense of the situation. "This can't be real," I tell myself. "I must be dreaming."

  I try to recall the events leading up to this moment, but my memories seem hazy and distant.

  Without thinking, I stretch out my hand further, my fingers straining towards her hand.

  "WHO ARE YOU?" I shout above the wind.

  Her mouth moves, but I can't hear a word.

  As we hurtle towards the ground, I can feel my heart racing and my grip on the girl's hand tightening. People on the street below stop and stare, their mouths agape.

  "Who are you?!" I yell again at her but get no response.

  In a desperate bid to comfort myself, I pull her close and hug her tightly. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, and prepare for the worst.

  "Suzie McLean"

  A rough shake jolts me awake, and I blink rapidly. The weight of the dream-no, the nightmare-still lingers in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  "Hey," someone speaks, hesitant. "You okay?"

  I turn my head and see my little cousin, James, standing beside my bed. His blonde hair messy from sleep. His arms are folded across his orange pajamas, a color that never suits him.

  "I could hear you all the way from my room," he says, frowning. "You were freaking out or something."

  Still shaken, I reach for him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. He stiffens immediately.

  "Uh-what the hell?" He asks, but he doesn't pull away.

  I hold on for just a second longer, needing something real to anchor me, something to remind me I'm not still plummeting through that endless fall. Then, feeling awkward, I let go. He steps back, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

  "Bad dream," I answer, wiping at my sweaty face.

  "Yeah, no kidding." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking at anything but me. "You, uh... good now?"

  I nod, resting my head on my knees.

  He exhales sharply, already walking towards the door. "Well, you woke me up, so... great."

  "Goodnight, James," I say quietly.

  He stops at the door, hand hovering near the frame, and glances back at me.

  "It's morning," he says, like it should be obvious. "Breakfast is in half an hour, so you better start getting ready. Unless you want to be embarrassed again."

  The heavy curtains are drawn, but the edges glow with soft golden light, creeping into my room, spilling onto the floor.

  After he leaves, I sit there for a long moment. With a heavy sigh, I get up and walk to the bathroom.

  Ever since Alister kidnapped me, I've had a total of 32 nightmares.

  That means I've died 32 times. And each time, I try to take control, try to realize it's just a dream. Try to Lucid dream. And every time, I fail. I barely remember what it feels like to sleep without fear.

  I'd stay up for hours after a nightmare, afraid to close my eyes, afraid to let my mind drag me back into whatever twisted horrors it had planned next. But exhaustion always wins. My body now flinches at sudden movements, and my heart kicks up at the smallest things-bright flashes or loud noises.

  I shake my head and try to focus on the only thing I've managed to find out.

  Suzie McLean.

  The name lingers in my head, taunting me.

  As soon as I change into a cyan shirt and purple tights, I hop onto my couch and turn on my laptop. I have no intention of exercising, but at least seeing me in sportswear will be enough to fool them.

  I quickly type in the name and surely...there it is.

  The results appear. My eyes scan the page, and my heart skips a beat as I see the words "Suzie McLean" followed by "suicide."

  It's...real? Her death...and all those other ones....they actually happened to those girls?

  But...this Suzie McLean-the one in the article I just clicked-she's not the girl from my dream.

  The photo shows a blonde girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with hazel eyes and a smile that's too wide.

  "Teen Jumps from Cruise Ship: The Tragic Story of Suzie McLean, Gone Too Soon."

  This isn't right.

  There's no rooftop, no terrifying freefall I experienced in my nightmare. No brown-haired girl with wide, empty eyes. Just this girl I've never seen before, who died in a completely different way.

  But as I keep searching, I finally reach the part about her friends and family. And there's the face I was looking for. Going by the name Morvan.

  The girl had died five years before Suzie by jumping off a building. The article mentions her as a straight-A student and a talented athlete. A girl who seized life with both hands.

  And yet... she jumped.

  Something is wrong. Two suicides, years apart. Was there a connection between them other than the fact they were friends? Or was it just a coincidence?

  Then, another memory slams into me.

  The dream before the rooftop one. The one where I was hanging alongside a pigtailed girl.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  I frantically search for more information. If Morven and Suzie are linked, maybe others are too. Maybe this is part of something bigger, a pattern hidden beneath years of tragedy.

  But no matter how much I search about Morven and about the people around her, I find nothing. I don't see any pigtailed girl in her life.

  I slump back into the couch, pressing my fingers against my temples. I feel like I'm looking at a puzzle with more than half the pieces missing.

  Where do the gems come into this?

  I didn't see one on Morven. Not on Suzie, either. There was no mention of jewelry, no strange heirlooms, and no mysterious trinkets.

  But if these deaths are part of some chain, does that mean...I'm part of it too now? Will the nightmares make me go mad and force me to kill myself?

  I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to focus. The girl in my dream. Why did she tell me her name was Suzie when she was really Morven?

  I let out a frustrated groan and snap my laptop shut. I don't have all the answers.

  But Alister might.

  I have a strong feeling he does. I can't afford to let my pride get in the way. Especially when he found out about my tracker and made me waste 30 minutes until I realized I was keeping an eye on a random car going to a mall.

  The door creaks open, and Lily pokes her head in. "Have you finished exercising?" She asks, "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. You should come down soon."

  "Perfect timing." I say as I cross my arms "Lily, come sit for a moment."

  I need to nip this problem in the bud before it gets out of hand.

  She shifts awkwardly. "I'd like to, but-"

  "Sit. Down."

  I lace my words with steel, narrowing my eyes just enough to make it clear this isn't a request.

  From what I've seen of Alister when we were at the antique shop, he doesn't ask for things, he demands them. He looms, he threatens, and he makes people know that defying him isn't an option. He has this intimidating presence that makes people fold. But I'm not him. I don't have his intense looks or the subtle authoritative, and slightly alluring, command in his voice. But I could try. Pretend to be all that and worse.

  If he's been using Lily as a spy, then I need to show her that I'm more intimidating than him. And remind her I'm much more dangerous since I have all the power.

  Finally, she reluctantly sits on the edge of the couch. There's a stiffness in her posture, as though she's ready to jump up at the first sign of trouble.

  "So," I start, "why don't you tell me why you're working for Alister?" I cut straight to the chase.

  The color drains from her face and I watch her lips part. "I... I don't understand what you're talking about," she stammers, panic creeping in.

  "I know you're his spy. I know you've been feeding him information about my family."

  The dread is all over her face now as her fingers clench tighter in her lap, like she's trying to hold herself together.

  "I... I-I'm sorry, I didn't-please, I never meant-" She cries, her voice quivering with fear. "I was forced to do it, I swear. I didn't think-"

  I hold up a hand, cutting her off. The last thing I need is a blubbering mess in front of me. "Calm down," I command, my tone still hard but not unkind. "I'm not going to expose you. I'm not going to hand you over to the police, or even get you fired for that matter. But you just need to answer my questions honestly."

  With a deep breath to calm herself, she looks down at her hands, still clasped tightly together, as if searching for the right words.

  "I have two younger siblings," she admits, her eyes finding mine, avoiding the tension in the room for just a moment. "I'm the one who supports them. I... I don't have any choice. I had to do it."

  Her words hang in the air and I wait for her to continue.

  "I was desperate. Alister offered me a way out-an arrangement. He pays me well for what I do," she adds, her voice softening with a tinge of relief. "That's it. That's all there is to it. He gives me money, and I give him information."

  So, she's doing this for money, pure and simple. No high ideals like Alister. Just survival.

  "How loyal are you to him?" I ask, keeping my gaze on her.

  She stares at me for a moment, and then, to my surprise, a small smile plays at the corners of her lips. It's not an easy one, more of a resigned grin as though she's not afraid anymore. "If you're trying to make me switch sides," she says carefully. "will you pay me double?"

  I raise an eyebrow, impressed by her boldness. She's no fool. She's seen through the layers of what I'm offering and what I want from her.

  I lean back slightly, my lips curling into a smile. "Triple," I say, "I'll pay you triple if you feed him false information."

  The offer's big enough to make her pause, and she doesn't hide the excitement that flares in her chest. It's all about the money for her. I can see that now, clearer than ever.

  The highway stretches endlessly before us but I barely see any of it. My head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, my thoughts a tangled mess I can't quite unravel.

  People hunting artifact users. Object-bound ones. A fight in the dead of night, magic and blood staining the pavement. And no answer about removing the gems from our chests.

  Alister's voice still lingers in my head, every word hammering into place like pieces of a puzzle I don't want to solve.

  "So, let me get this straight," I say, staring up at the car's ceiling. "There are people who hunt artifacts. Some of them have trinkets that give them abilities. They can see the gems, and on top of that, there's something called 'object-bound ones,' which is what we are."

  "Pretty much." He sighs, drumming his fingers against the wheel.

  This is bad. Worse than bad. It was already hard dealing with this curse, but now we're being hunted by people who might want to either use us or kill us.

  I watch him turn his head slightly, gaze flickering to the empty passenger seat before returning to the road.

  "They asked about your abilities," I ask. "That could mean these gems grant us some kind of power..."

  He doesn't respond, as if deep in thought. I sigh, leaning my head back against the seat. After a moment, I finally decide to tell him about the nightmares.

  I keep it simple. Thirty-two nightmares. Thirty-two deaths. Each one brutal, relentless. I see his hands tighten on the wheel when I mention the ways I've died. I tell him about the girl who finally spoke to me, and the name she gave. The real Suzie McLean and the one from my dreams. The articles. The inconsistencies.

  Through it all, he listens in silence. I can tell he's taking in every word, absorbing the details. "So," he says, once I finish, "you might be seeing real deaths."

  "Yeah. But here's the thing. I never once saw the gems on any of the girls."

  His lips press into a thin line before he finally says it.

  "Just because you didn't see it on them, doesn't mean they might not have had them."

  He exhales through his nose. "If I understand correctly, your next dream-it's going to be about the cruise. The one from the article."

  "Yeah." I say as I take a bitter sip of my coffee. Anything to keep my brain from shutting down, because it's ready to crash at any moment. "For now, we'll just keep investigating and find out where these things came from."

  Sliding down, I stretch out across the entire backseat, staring up at the ceiling. The hum of the car fills the silence, a steady background noise to the storm in my head.

  How do the gems fit into all of this? What abilities do they have? Does having nightmares count as an ability?

  For a pair of gemstones, I figured it'd be something that happened to both of us.

  I glance at Alister, my eyes tracing the back of his head. The way his raven hair tumbles around his ears, curling slightly at the ends. A few stray strands brush against the side of his glasses and the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

  He exists the way a storm does before it breaks-calm, contained, yet brimming with something just beneath the surface.

  I narrow my eyes at him as I pull myself up and lean forward between the front seats. I'm done with his silence.

  Without warning, I press the empty coffee cup against his cheek. He flinches, shoulders jerking slightly before he schools his reaction.

  "What are you doing?" His dark eyes cut toward me, irritation flickering beneath the surface. "I told you never to touch me."

  I arch a brow, unimpressed by the glare he throws my way. "You still haven't told me what your gem does to you."

  He rolls his eyes as his gaze goes back to the road. "...I see things."

  I frown. "What things?"

  "Just... random things from my past." His tone is dismissive, as if that alone makes it irrelevant. "Nothing that will help us. Mine isn't as informative as yours."

  That doesn't sit right with me. I shift forward again, resting my elbows on the center console. "Like what?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Are you seeing anything now?"

  There's a brief pause before he answers, as if debating whether to tell me at all. "A woman."

  My curiosity sharpens. "Who?"

  He doesn't answer right away, and I catch the way his fingers twitch against the wheel before he forces them still.

  "She's of no help. I'm not sure if it's a hallucination or not, but she never says anything useful," he says flatly, as if that should be the end of it.

  While I'm still curious, to say that I'm disappointed is an understatement. He created such suspense about it by not telling me, and now it turns out it's just a hallucination.