I glared at the ceiling, unsure whether to be happy that Savannah had talked about me, or bugged that she still seemed to be ticked off at me.
"So don't put them in a box, or she'll throw them away," Anne added in a softer tone. "She'll probably ignore them if they're just loose in the bottom of her backpack, though."
"Okay. When should I bring them to you?"
"Before school would be best. She's always running late, so she won't be there."
"Right. See you then. And, Anne?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Don't let it affect your ego there, Arthur. I'm doing it for Savannah." I could practically hear the eye roll in her voice. Man, she was a pain. But I was also starting to get why Savannah was friends with her. Some people would think twice before doing something that went against their family's religious beliefs, even to help out a friend.
I grinned. "Yeah, yeah, as if I could forget."
She hung up without saying goodbye. I hit the phone's off button with a shake of my head, then jumped up and grabbed the box of hearts, feeling good for the first time in days. This just might work.
Back outside, I sat down in the wet grass at the edge of the patio then shook three hearts out of their box. As an afterthought, I added a fourth to the lineup for that Romeo-wannabe soccer player.
While touching the first candy, I pictured one of the creeps, mentally whispered the spell word and tapped the candy while visualizing a surge of energy entering it. How many times might these guys want to talk to Savannah? Twenty times? Fifty? I thought about how many times a day I was tempted to say something to her. Better make that at least a hundred times per candy. I could always create more charms later if it looked like any of them were wearing out too soon.
I went down the row of hearts, saving the soccer jerk for last. With every tap of my fingertip, more of the constant edginess seeped out of me. I finished charming all four candies, then decided to go back over them again just in case Savannah's weird pull on these guys proved to be even half as strong as the effect she had on me. But the first pass had really relaxed me. Stretching out on the grass seemed a good idea. The yard was wet and cold, but I could deal with it. This was more important.
The dream began just as I started the second pass on Stanwick's memory confuser.
Savannah looked like some sort of goddess, her hair down and blowing behind her in the wind along with the folds of her long white nightgown. She stood facing a setting sun, dark asphalt sparkling beneath her bare feet. We were on the flat rooftop of a building overlooking Jacksonville.
Behind her, a crowd of guys I recognized from school stood together in a tight group. They were edgy, staring at Savannah with wild expressions on their faces, ready to lunge at any second. Like a pack of jackals snapping at her heels. What held them back?
I would.
I was outnumbered, but I had to try anyway. Maybe if I stood close to her when they attacked, I could cast a blocking spell strong enough to protect both of us at once. If that didn't work, I'd have to risk taking the brunt of the attack myself and focus the spell only on her for as long as I could make it hold.
A voice whispered through the dream, hers but huskier, more sultry. The voice of Savannah as a dark seductress. And yet her lips didn't move. "Look at them, Savannah. Give them what they crave, and they will end your thirst."
The words made no sense.
Savannah seemed to understand though. Tears slid down her cheeks as she shook her head and whispered, "No. I won't look at them. It's not right."
"Look at them!" the voice shrieked, and Savannah's hands darted up to fidget with the gold locket she always wore at her neck.
"No, don't, Sav," I said, trying to walk toward her. But something invisible and hot, like heated glass, held me back. I pushed my hands against that barrier, willing it to give and let me through. "Savannah, listen to me. Do not look at them."
The boys snapped and growled, their patience wearing out. They bumped into each other, and the group inched forward almost as a single, seething mass.
"Savannah!" I yelled. But she couldn't hear me.
Cursing, I hit the barrier between us. The heat burned my knuckles.
She stepped toward the edge of the roof and looked down.
Cold terror poured over me. "Savannah, don't! Wait for me." I hit the invisible wall again and again with my fists, my will and power, even ramming my shoulders against it. A monstrous growl rumbled in my chest.
"You will give in to the temptation," the evil voice whispered, already sure of its triumph. "You need them. You need the power."
"No. Never," Savannah promised, her voice choked and hollow.
And then she dived over the edge.
"No!" My roar swallowed me up until I thought it would never stop. I could feel myself losing it, right there on the edge of crazy, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the pain slamming into me in waves that brought me to my knees.
I needed her, needed her to be alive even if we couldn't be together anymore.
I was still yelling out the pain as I woke up the next morning, my body cold and aching in the wet grass of my backyard.
The minutes passed as I sat there, teeth clenched against the need to keep shouting, my breaths coming out fast and harsh through my nose. My chest burned. My fists were on fire. The dew on the grass became a sweet relief to my hands, cooling the flames on my skin.
Just a dream. But the dream had felt way too real. It had the same sharp-edged quality to it as the dreams I used to have of her in the fourth grade.
I stared at my hands, holding them up in the light of the sunrise. They weren't even red. But the pain had seemed so real.
Sighing, I dried them off on my sweats then scooped up the charmed candy. Time to face reality and get ready for school.
I couldn't shake the memory of that dream, though. Its gut-twisting terror and pain stuck with me all day. I barely said more than "Here" and "Thanks" to Anne when I shoved the protective charms at her outside the main building before school. I wasn't in the mood to even fake a smile for anyone in the hallways or my morning classes, much less talk.
At lunch, I couldn't eat, especially after seeing Savannah enter the cafeteria and join her friends. She'd worn her hair down today for a change. The ends looked wet, maybe from taking a shower after her pre-drill class. Seeing those red strands down and flowing with her every little move reminded me too much of the dream. And the way her hair had streamed out like blood as she'd flown over the side of the roof...