Secrets of the Sleeper: True Nature Series: Book One (9 page)

“I’m not sure. But you seemed to know that wolf.”

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t know wolves got that big!”

Zander stared dubiously at me for a moment and then threw up his arms before walking over to his brother, who was climbing a ladder he’d found at the side of the house, to peer over the fence.

Zander paced back and forth furiously, telling his brother what had happened. I followed his movements, stunned by the developments of the past—how long had it been? Seconds, minutes, hours? It was a slice out of time, out of reality. Like a dream.

“You know what I have to do,” his brother stated, stepping down from the fence.

Zander stopped in front of his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “No. It doesn’t always work right. You could hurt her.”

“Zander, if she’s human, she can’t know about this stuff. If she’s Idimmu, well, it won’t matter anyway…” He drifted off, running a hand through his blond hair.

Okay, I might have been in shock, but I was not stupid. Two giant-sized wolves had really been in my backyard. Zander could leap over tall fences like a freaking superhero. My arm had just healed itself. And big brother didn’t know if I was human or something else,
and
he wanted to do something to me that Zander didn’t want him to do, which, by the way, might hurt me. I did what most logical people would do in these situations—I ran. My plan: Lock myself inside, dial 911, have a panic attack.

I made it inside the house, but a boot stopped the door from closing. I looked up from the black obstruction and into his face. Dark brown eyes glared at me, as if I were the one trying to break into his house and do God-only-knows-what to him. He squinted fiercely at me. It knocked me back—no, he hadn’t touched me, but my head suddenly slammed with pain. I fell backward on the kitchen floor, grabbing my head and moaning.

“Stop it, Peter! Damn it! Stop it. Now!”

I barely made out Zander leaning over me, the pain blurring my vision. It felt like a knife was stabbing into my brain, like my eyes were bleeding and rolling into the back of their sockets. Suddenly all I could see was blackness, but I heard a scuffle and glass breaking before I passed out.

Reality Shift

I don’t think I
was unconscious for more than a few seconds, because Zander and his brother were still in my kitchen, and they were arguing pretty loudly. I remember seeing a similar situation on TV—some wildlife show about armadillos. Basically, play dead and the bad guy will leave; play dead and maybe I’d find out what was really going on.

“What part of
NO
did you not hear!” yelled Zander. Something large thumped roughly against the cupboards. I hoped it was G.I. Joe’s head. Whatever he had done to me, well, I was still feeling the aftershocks, like little bolts of electricity through my brain. I wanted to hold my head between my hands, but I didn’t want to move and gain their attention.

“Stand down, Zander!” his brother ordered. “This is protocol! We don’t leave witnesses. Ever. What’s with you?”

“You could have killed her, you idiot! And she may be more than we think!”

“She’s fine, man, I promise. Back off, would you?”

A pause. It was so tempting to look, but I kept my eyes shut.

Finally, Zander spit out, “Fine! But how do you know she’s okay?”

“Just check her pulse, Sherlock.”

Warm fingers pressed against my neck. I panicked for a second, and I prayed that I wouldn’t give myself away with a frantic pulse. The hum between us sent me warm waves and soothed my headache.

“She’s okay,” sighed Zander. “I’m going to move her to the couch in the other room.” Strong arms lifted me and I felt weightless for a few seconds before being pressed against the couch cushions. A gentle hand brushed the hair out of my face.

“Now what do we do?” asked Zander.

“
We
don’t do anything. You shouldn’t even be here. You are going to be in enough trouble as it is.”

“Then don’t tell them.”

A frustrated sigh.

“But if we find Dubois, we’ll be forgiven anything,” said Zander. “First things first. What happens with Tru now?”

“She shouldn’t remember what happened here.”

“Okay. Is she going to remember we had a study date today?”

My heart leapt at the word “date.” He
had
considered it a date! My stomach fluttered in response. What was I thinking? First of all, had I forgotten Isaac? And second of all, something weird was happening, and I could not afford to be distracted by a “study date” or a cute boy—scratch that—make that a mysterious, gorgeous boy who carries a gun in his pocket and has a brute for a brother. I had to figure things out, and I’d play along with whatever story they required for now.

“Date, huh?”

“Uh, no, man! It’s not like that! It’s my cover!” defended Zander.

My blood began to boil.
Jerk
, I thought.

“Okay. But you have to stay focused,” admonished his brother. “I think Father is right. You are still too young for this stuff.”

“You know I’m not.” Zander sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

“Whatever. She probably won’t remember, but I’m not sure. It happened really fast and you messed up my concentration when you started beating on me. Seriously! What is wrong with you?”

“You deserved it. And she better not have permanent damage,” Zander growled.

“Stow it, Zander.”

Another pause.

“Fine. So who were the Usemis? You think the brown one looked like Dubois?”

“Possibly. Looked like her description. Dad never let me be around when she went furry, so I don’t know for sure. I have no idea who the other one is.” He sighed with frustration.

“What did you learn from your
study date
?” he almost sneered.

“Nothing. We were reading here at the table. I was hoping to get some clue about what’s up with her, and suddenly I saw the first one in the backyard. I went to the window to get a better look and noticed it take off over the fence followed by the second one. So I went after them.”

I could hear Zander pacing beside the couch.

“You took off after two Usemis in front of her?” Zander’s brother sounded furious. But it didn’t seem to faze Zander.

“Tru mentioned that she’d seen animal tracks in her backyard. This wasn’t the first time they’ve been here.”

“Why would they come here? What’s the connection?” mused his brother. “What do you know about this girl? Is it possible she knows them?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve been in that school for days! Something is definitely going on there.”

Footsteps paced back and forth beside the couch. Must be Zander.

“Hey, back there in the yard, you acted like you knew her. What was that about?” asked Zander.

“Nothing. She just reminded me of someone in Eden, one of Father’s, you know… At first I really thought it was her. They look a lot alike, that’s all. Anyway, I’m just wondering if there’s a connection between the two.”

“Who are you talking about? I’ve never seen anyone who looks like her.” Zander’s pacing had stopped.

“Some Idimmu Dad has in the lower levels. I forgot you don’t have clearance.” I could hear the scorn in his voice. “Anyway, she’s one of his special projects.”

“Tru lives here with her father. Her mother is the one who died last year in that car accident Father was so excited about,” said Zander.

At this point, I wondered if I had fallen asleep. Maybe I was dreaming, because this had all the characteristics of a nightmare. With the hand wedged between the couch and me, I pinched myself. No, not dreaming. Zander and his brother were still discussing strange creatures like they were real. I had watched plenty of supernatural movies—what teenager didn’t—and I could put two and two together as well as the next person. They were talking about werewolves. But that was just silly. Yet, how else could I explain those wolves in my backyard?

“We know Dubois was here last year.” Zander’s brother was talking, his voice slightly higher. “They tracked her to this area and then found her prints all over that hit and run. Then the trail headed out of California and went cold. Any Usemi or Akharu living locally? I need to check the database again. We need to find the connection here.”

Their conversation faded. I had stopped listening after
hit and run
. Were they talking about my mother? Was it possible that these guys knew who killed her? No. It was a hit and run, and the police had never found the driver. The car had been stolen, ditched a block away from the accident. It took all my self-control not to jump up and scream at them to tell me
who
. Who was this
Dubois
? They were talking about these
Usemi
like they were people. Who were these guys? And what exactly were they?

The back door opened.

“Wait!” said Zander. “What am I supposed to tell Tru?”

“Nothing. Come with me for now and see what she remembers tomorrow.”

I could hear Zander gathering up his books and stuffing them into his backpack. How could he just leave after what happened?
What a jerk
, I thought. The back door shut. A minute later, they drove away.

I could finally open my eyes. What was I supposed to think? What should I say to Zander tomorrow? Or should I call him tonight? I had no idea what to do. Dad could be coming home soon, but I definitely didn’t want to discuss this with him.

Ruthie. She always knew what to do. Cradling my head, I got up to rummage through my backpack for my phone.

“Ruthie. I really need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I’m listening, girl,” she responded. Suddenly she screamed, “Get out of here, you little freaks!” I held the phone away from my ear, wincing. “Oh, crap, girl, I didn’t mean you. The raptors were circling again.”

Her little brothers were constantly terrorizing her. There was nothing more tempting to two curious little boys as a closed door. Personally, I thought they tried to wind her up just to hear her scream. I swear she could almost shatter glass.

“Ruthie, I need to talk to you face-to-face,” I insisted. “Can you come over now?”

“What time is it? Umm… It’s almost dinnertime. Mom won’t go for it.”

“Tell her my dad isn’t home and I need a friend. Tell her I need help with homework. Tell her I tried to dye my hair and messed up royally. Whatever it takes!”

“Geez, Tru!” Her voice was gentle. “Okay, she’ll never believe the homework one. The hair dye one would work too well—she’d want to come over and help. No, let’s go with option number one. I’m one hell of a good friend, right?”

I almost sobbed with relief. “Yes, Ruthie. You are the best!”

“I’ll be right over.”

Crazy

“So,” mused my best
friend, “to sum it all up, you saw two wolves in your backyard that didn’t attack you. You stabbed yourself with a knife, and Zander’s brother did some hocus pocus on your brain to wipe your memory, but somehow it didn’t work.”

The way she said it, I didn’t believe it either. But I knew it happened. I was tempted to call Zander to confirm, but he didn’t want me to remember, so what was the point? He’d play stupid even if it was the truth.

“Yeah…” my friend drawled. “Zander would be the hot guy you are not going to Homecoming with because another hot guy already asked you.” She sighed dramatically. “You are so awesome!”

Ruthie and I were sitting on my bed. I had every window and door locked up tight. And Dad was still not home. I had explained most of it to her—I may have left out the magic healing of my hands at school and the fact that I had felt “connected” to the wolf, but I’d given her more than the overall picture.

“You don’t believe me,” I stated.

“Tru,” she started.

“No, look at my arm!” I held it out. There was still dried blood on it, and a faint red line remained where the knife had stuck me.

She puzzled over it for a second. “Tru, wounds don’t instantly heal.” She sighed. “I have to say, girl, you’re my best friend, but this is just too crazy.”

Crazy. With my history, no wonder she doubted me. I probably would, too. Then I remembered the knife. It must still be outside. I grabbed her arm, pulling her off the bed and down the hall to the back door.

“I think I have proof!”

“Okay, okay! You don’t have to drag me!”

“Oh, sorry.” I stopped at the door and ran my hand through my hair. “It’s just that I know you think I’m nuts, and I’m beginning to feel like I really am losing it. But I think the knife is still out in the backyard.”

Ruthie heaved another long sigh. “All right, at least you aren’t comatose. And honestly, this is pretty imaginative, I must say!”

I cringed. Yes, last year did seem like I’d been in a coma. I opened the door and led her outside. Just as I had hoped, there was the kitchen knife lying in the grass. It was covered in dried blood.

“No way!” Ruthie looked horrified as I picked it up and showed her. Real horror, not the supportive pretend stuff I’d been getting up until now.

“What’s happening, Ruthie?” I asked, desperately. I looked across the grass at the garden area. “Come here,” I said. “Maybe the footprints are still there.”

We hustled over and sure enough there were lots of paw prints, too large for an average dog, and they overlapped each other like they had crossed this area multiple times. It made sense because this was near the area of fence they had crossed over.

“So,” said Ruthie, her eyes wide with fear now, “you said they went over the fence. Did you see what’s on the other side?”

“No, not yet. But I’m going to.” I handed her the knife and walked determinedly to the ladder Zander’s brother had left near the fence line.

“What do you see?” asked Ruthie when I had climbed to the top of the fence.

What I saw was a mess. Our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, were workaholics. They were gone from sunup to late every night. They had never bothered to landscape the backyard, and the already sad-looking grass had been overcome with weeds ages ago. Dirt patches appeared in various places. It looked like they might have used the covered patio in the past because a table sat unused in the center with a covered barbeque tucked under the kitchen window. A section of the back fence bordered the woods where a small creek ran. That must be where the wolves had entered. Our yard backed up against another neighbor’s yard—we were entirely surrounded by neighbors. I looked more closely at the dirt patches. And even though the light was getting dim, I could see the evidence of the wolves—the same tracks were here, and they ran up to the back fence by the woods.

“It doesn’t look like the Jenkins ever go in their backyard. But I can see some of the same-looking footprints. I think they came in through the woods at the back of their yard.”

“Holy cow, girl!” she exclaimed. “Wait one fried fish minute! Was it that dog we saw the first day of school?” She was finally putting the pieces together and taking this seriously. I climbed down the ladder and began putting it away. She followed close behind me, looking warily back at the fence.

“Yeah. The one that licked my arm looked like the one we saw that morning.”

“What? It licked your arm?” She was in my face the second I turned around. “You didn’t tell me that part!” Her voice was getting kind of loud. And I was feeling anxious being outside. It was getting darker, due to the fog rolling in. A long howl ripped through the night. It came from the woods. Ruthie and I started backing toward the house quickly.

“Come on. Let’s go back in,” I said, holding her arm. We turned and raced back to the house. Just as we got to the door, something slammed into the back fence. We heard some rustling and a very low growl. We weren’t waiting around to investigate. With shaking hands, we locked ourselves in the house again. Ruthie stood a few feet from the door, her eyes wide as saucers.

Her voice wobbled as she said, “Was that what I think it was?”

I was shaking, too, and moved toward the sink to wash the knife.

“Yeah, I think so,” I mumbled. I finished up and put the blade away. “Do you think I’m going insane?” I wasn’t a fool. What I had told her could put me in the mental institute for real.

“Are you kidding?” she gasped. “If you are, then get me a matching straitjacket!”

Moments later, we sat cross-legged on my queen-size bed. I ran my hand over the patchwork quilt that my mom made for me when I was twelve. It was soft from so many washings. My parents upgraded my bed on my twelfth birthday so I would have room for Ruthie to sleep over. It had made me feel so much older. But right now I felt really young. Of all the crazy memories in this room, lots of giggles, lots of tears, lots of secrets—this topped them all. I could feel my life shifting in a irreversible way, but toward what exactly I didn’t know.

Despite her lunch table revelation regarding my incredible health, I knew I could trust Ruthie with my biggest secrets, like my night vision. As children we explained it away as a secret superpower. As we got older, we decided it was just a fluke gift of nature and we should keep it to ourselves in case scientists decided to experiment on me—well, you never know.

I looked at Ruthie. She had calmed down since we came in the house. She’d always been so strong, dramatic, but never one for depression dives. She’d never deserted me when I lost it, and I knew that once she had it organized in her head, she would be back to her own awesomeness. She was deep-thinking, tapping her fingers on her knee and staring at my quilt.

“Okay,” she said, pulling out of her trance. “So, your arm healed when the wolf licked you, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Magical spit. That’s awesome.”

I laughed at her conclusion.

“Well,” she said, “what else could it be?”

“Maybe it can heal stuff,” I contended.

“Then why lick you? Come on, Tru! We’ve just passed into the Twilight Zone. Then there’s Zander’s brother, the freak of nature, who did some mumbo-jumbo mind thingie on you.”

“Yeah, “ I said, drawing it out because I wasn’t sure how to explain it.

“Well, what’s with that, anyway? I think we need to start over. There must be more that you aren’t telling me.”

I made a face again.

“Yeah, but it’s even weirder.” I hesitated.

“Weirder than wolves, magic healing, and psychic brothers?” she scoffed. She looked intensely at me for a second. My eyes started to tear up.

“Tru, what’s going on?” she whispered and took my hand, squeezing it. I knew I had to tell her
everything
. Saying it out loud might help me not feel delusional. Besides, no one else would believe me. I squeezed her hand back.

I started with the first time I met Zander, at our lunch table. I told her about our “connection.” I told her it had happened several times. And then I described how my hands had healed in class.

“Wait, stop right there,” demanded Ruthie. “You feel a vibration when you touch him?” Of course she would focus on that, not the magical healing. “That is a seriously epic reaction, you know, right?”

We had both scooted up against my wall at the head of the bed.

“I know, right?” I mumbled. “I thought it was really cool, too, but now everything is so crazy. I mean, geez, he and his brother are some—uh—top secret agents, or something, chasing—uh—supernatural criminals, or whatever.”

“They seem a little whacked to me, no offense,” she offered, perhaps to cheer me up, because, really there didn’t seem to be a happy ending to it.

I looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. “I know! But then, what if they aren’t. Ruthie, those wolves were not ordinary. That one I told you about—I don’t know—I could swear its eyes were human, like it knew me or liked me or, geez, I don’t know! This is so weird! I feel like I’m in some kind of strange sci-fi movie or nightmare!”

“Here! I’ll pinch you,” she offered.

“Too late,” I sighed. “I already tried it—”

I sat up quickly. “Wait! I totally forgot about the dreams!”

Ruthie grabbed my arm excitedly. “No way! You dreamed about him before he came, didn’t you! Good Gravy, that’s so romantic!”

“No, not him. I saw the wolf! Remember the first day of school and I said I’d dreamed about a wolf?”

“Oh yeah! Oooh, that’s so weird!”

“Well, I’ve been having weird dreams since before the accident.”

“What? Tru, I never knew! Like what?”

“If you recall, I was borderline psychotic last year, and Dad’s been threatening to make me see a doctor.”

“No way! A shrink?” She recoiled, her eyes bugging.

I slid off the bed to pace the room. “That’s what I thought you’d say, and that’s why I never told you, and everyone else would think even worse!”

She had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry, Tru, just a reflex, that’s all. You know I have an uncle in the mental hospital, and I’m seriously creeped out when Mom makes us visit him at Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well,
talking
to a psychiatrist is not the same as being
committed
to a mental hospital! Even so, my dad thinks I’m having nightmares about the accident.”

“Nobody would be surprised if you did. So, what are they about then?” she asked.

I pulled out my desk chair and straddled it backward.

“It’s all really weird. Sometimes it’s about this man killing his brother and the dead brother’s wife finding him—and they’re dressed in animal skins like, I don’t know, cave people wore. Sometimes I’m in this smoky forest and I can hear someone calling my name, but it’s not my name, yet I know it’s me, and I can hear this kid crying her eyes out. Then this dog comes up to me and I’m so happy, but when it gets really close with its big teeth, I realize it’s a wolf and I wake up—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” interjected Ruthie. “Did you say
wolf
?”

“Yeah, that’s the dream I had the night before school started.”

“Okay, I’m so freaking out here.” Ruthie was on her knees on the bed. Then she took a couple of deep breaths and sat back down. She gave me a nod to continue.

“So what else are you dreaming about?” she asked.

I heaved a big sigh and scrunched up my forehead in concentration.

“Well, I had a couple new ones last night. It really weirded me out because this time they were finally about my mom.”

“Okay,” prompted Ruthie.

“When I’m having these dreams, sometimes I
know
more than I
see
, if that makes sense.”

“Huh?”

“For instance, this time I dreamed about Mom and Dad and Uncle Ira. My uncle was introducing a little girl to my parents.”

“That doesn’t seem very strange.”

“The little girl was me,” I stated pointedly.

“Oh, yeah, that’s weird,” she agreed. “Well, what happened in the dream?”

“It was like my parents were just meeting me for the first time, and Mom was saying how much I looked like her.”

Ruthie kept interjecting, to urge me on as I paused now and then.

“My parents were looking at me like I was their favorite candy, you know, and Mom was saying something about Caroline, um, like she wondered what she had done. Like it had something to do with me.”

“Who’s Caroline?” asked Ruthie. By now she was on the edge of the bed across from me.

“I’m not sure, but I know Mom had a sister named Caroline. She died before I was born—at least that’s what she always said.”

“This is better than
Court of Palms
, I swear!”

“Unfortunately, this is my life!” I shot her a glare.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. It’s just so gripping! Oscar-winning, I swear! What did your uncle do?”