Chapter 8

-What Dreams May Come-

Friday (same day), 4:40 p.m., Ipswich

"Is this really such a good idea?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure it is."

"Chase..." Caleb's voice was notably warning.

"Maybe we should hold off on the whole read into my soul thing and go for coffee. I'm feeling a bit light-headed and I could use some sugar."

"Chase, you're not backing out of this. The rest of us just finished the ritual for accepting a new member. You're a member now, and as a member, there's the condition of the soul search we laid down. It hasn't even been an hour since we agreed to it."

There was no room left for discussion. He knew it, but it didn't mean he wanted to accept it. He didn't want to dredge up his past, and he certainly didn't want the rest of the Sons of Ipswich to know.

The only reason Chase found himself in this damp and stone filled basement surrounded by four warlocks who'd been keen to be his enemies only days earlier, was one woman. She wanted him to do this. More importantly, she wanted him to do this for himself. When Selene suggested or encouraged things, she always meant it. For her age, she was incredibly wise.

"So... How does this soul search work exactly?"

He nervously glanced down at the circle drawn in chalk he'd been made to stand inside during the ritual, and apparently now for the length of the soul search. Black dots appeared in his eyeballs and he swayed in place for a moment. He hadn't been kidding. He wasn't feeling so hot.

"When our gazes meet," Caleb was explaining, "I'll use my power to read your soul. Basically, the power will reveal to all of us, images of the past that define your soul as it is now."

Chase tore his gaze away from the chalk outline to look up. "Sounds complicated."

"Hey, it's not fun for me either. It's a lot of strain to see and hold onto so many memories that aren't your own."

"Then why do it?"

"Trust. We need to know everything about you as a member of our coven."

It was Tyler who had said that. He looked at the youngest member, the sole member yet to turn eighteen. Perhaps the only one who could possibly be swayed.

"What if you don't want to know everything about me?"

Now he'd earned himself the ire of Pogue and Reid, the pair of them glaring at his back from where they sat perched on separate rock formations. Another glance about this basement had him note how very old it must be to have been constructed so deep beneath the earth and within it.

"Damn it, Chase! You're doing this!"

"Come on, Caleb. Just do it."

But Caleb was shaking his head. "No. I need his express permission. I'm not going to just go poking around his memories against his will."

He held himself as still as possible, so as not to flinch. How could he have done the things he'd done to this man? The guy who was seeking his say so for something he could just take if he truly desired to. A thing he could do and even defend by arguing it was only fair after everything Chase had done to them those months back. Well, shit.

His eyes took one final scan of the other Sons staring at him, and then his gaze found Caleb, the Son standing directly in front of him. "Okay. Go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Now it was Caleb who hesitated. He shook off the uncertainty in the next beat though, and moved even closer. Lifting a hand to Chase's shoulder, as if to hold him in place, their gazes locked and Caleb's eyes blackened.

Chase wondered how this would work. Would he even feel anything or would it just sort of happen and be done in a matter of seconds? Maybe he'd be lucky and black out through the duration. It could be that the Sons saw it like a movie, but he didn't even see-Oh. A ghostly trickling sensation down his spine, an abrupt twist in his stomach, and then his whole head exploded into pure white.

"Hey rich boy, where'd you get the black eye this time?"

Oh, great, a real genius had decided to start talking to him. People generally knew to avoid Chase Collins. He was a loner, a punk who got into fights and skipped school. At the same time, he was popular because he had a lot of friends, won his fights, and could get any girl he wanted. The kid who was untouchable because his mom was practically a world-famous clothing designer, and his dad was a no-nonsense businessman who knew how to make a deal to earn millions. That was what the people of Haversfield saw, and apparently, this prep. school dropout thought he'd start something with Chase today.

"What do you want, Dale?"

He'd fought Dale just last week, sent the guy home crying. He supposed a sophmore sending a senior home in tears was enough to earn the guy coming back to try and claim some dignity. Still, he was not in the mood.

"Well? Where'd you get the colorful art, huh?"

Chase was not about to tell Dale Wenden that his "dad" had managed to get his hands on him over the weekend. Beat him up and threw him down the stairs to the basement for the whole night. His so called mom let him out the following morning, only because she needed him to do laundry while Doris was away. Bitch.

A finger poked him in the ribs, very bruised ribs, and he flinched and shifted away. He did his level best to ignore the dozen or so eyes already watching the both of them. But was alerted to the fact a couple of Dale's friends were coming over to likely help their buddy enact some revenge.

A girl in red capris, a white blouse, and, of all things, a black fedora hat atop her short brown hair suddenly mushed herself between him and the trio of jocks moving into his space.

"Why Travis Miller, that you?"

One of the seniors slowed his stroll and looked at the girl in confusion. "What?"

She leaned in closer to the three. "And Freddy James, too. How perfect. Remember when you two thought you'd get off peeping in on Brenda Gilbert in the showers after volleyball practice? Remember how she heard one of you and slipped. Hit her head and ended up with a pretty serious concussion. Tsk, tsk. Wouldn't want anyone finding out that was because of you two, hm?"

"Who do you think you are-" Dale began but she when in for the kill, using him as the finish.

"Dale Wenden, where do I even start? How about the prank with the varsity soccer coach that accidentally set his entire office on fire? Arson like that could potentially lead to some jail time, suspension for sure, and that's not even the only thing the police could get you on. You haven't forgotten-"

"Okay! Sheesh! Forget it, Collins. Come on, guys. Let's get out of here."

Dale strode quickly off and his friends were only to happy to bumble after him in shock and concern. When the girl spun around to face him, he put up his hands in mock surrender.

"Please, I'm unarmed."

She laughed. "You're welcome for all that. Maybe you should try to stay out of trouble."

"I'll consider it."

She laughed again. "Well, nice to meet you..rich boy?"

He corrected. "Chase Collins."

"Nice to meet you, Chase. Name's Trisha Burns, and you should probably know, I plan to be famous one day, reporting the truth where I find it."

"Well, Trisha, I plan to be alive one day."

She smiled broadly, probably thinking he was joking. "We all have to have dreams somehow."

There was hardly a transition between one memory to the next. The images just sort of blurred together, out of focus, until the colors separated to become a more solid, different place and time.

The music was loud, booming, some terrible rap song that couldn't possibly be danced to. Yet people were dancing. Everyone seemed to be having such a great time. He wasn't even sure why he'd come. Trisha had to be there to take pictures for the school paper. She'd dragged him along so they could suffer together. Except she wasn't so much suffering, flouncing about happily as she tried to capture the best pictures to share how the night went. Meanwhile, he stood off to the side, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants, feeling awkward and alone.

"Hello!"

The greeting was shouted into his ear because of the volume of the music. He glanced at the person in his ear, thinking it might be Trish, finally there to save him from this horrible event that was a school dance. Instead, he laid eyes on the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. And that beauty was smiling at him.

"You wouldn't happen to be the Collins' kid, would you?"

"Who's asking?"

"Ha, you are. My parents warned me about you."

He frowned, but a slight smile was growing on his face regardless. "Did they now? And they would be?"

"Rogers family. I'm Selene. Ask me to dance."

"What?"

Chase was confused, nervous, and intrigued all at the same time. It was horrible, and wonderful, and he wondered if this might be what love was.

Things blurred and resolved into a setting much quieter, and this time outside.

"I dream and dream of getting out of this place, away from home, away to something new. Do you think things will get better? You know, life?"

"I know they will, because I have you to make me a better person."

"Oh Chase." She said it like she disagreed, but didn't know what else to say.

Selene stared straight up at the stars in the sky. She glanced over toward him when he shuffled upright partially. He wanted to be looking into her eyes when he did this. Her gaze lowered to his reaching hands and she gasped.

"Chase!"

"Selene, I know we're still young, but when school is done, maybe even in a year or two, I'd like you and me," he stumbled and quickly self-corrected. "I want us to be forever."

"We will be. Yes, Chase. Of course. Yes."

Everything mixed together but soon moved apart again, solidifying.

There were a lot of people in black clothing. It was a relatively sunny day out, hardly a cloud in the sky. Everyone was milling about in a cemetery.

"Where's Chase?"

"He didn't stay."

"But this is his parents' funeral."

"I know, Trisha. I don't know why he left. He seemed distracted, said he had to go."

"I thought he'd tell you of all people."

Selene shrugged. "I think what he needs is to be alone."

A young man, maybe a few years older than them came over. "Did you hear about Chase?"

Both women stared cautiously, Trisha the one daring to ask. "What about him?"

"He's gone. Steve and Jake said they saw him drive out of town half an hour ago."

"What? Where did he go, Jason?" Selene demanded.

She looked worried, so did Trisha.

"I don't know. But I guess it looked like he'd packed some stuff. Could be gone for a while, could be gone for good."

Selene stared at the ring on her finger. She stared at the promise. She stared and stared.

A whirlwind of images into a single solitary shape walking up to the front door of an expansive home.

As soon as he stepped through the door he knew something wasn't right. Nothing was ever right in the house, but tonight it felt different. Maybe he should have stepped out, maybe he should have left and slept in a field nearby that was filled with the softest grass around this time of year. But he didn't, and it would make all the difference.

He descended down the single step which separated the front foyer from the remainder of the house and headed for the kitchen. It was dark in the house and he prayed that meant he was alone. Chase wished he wasn't so hungry, because then he could avoid this risk of entering public domain altogether. He was starving though, having not eaten all day, and besides, it was his birthday. Nobody should go hungry on their birthday.

Entering the kitchen on soft steps and quiet breaths, he was relieved to find he was in fact alone. He kept himself silent, every movement deliberate and drawn out. There was always the chance they were in some other part of the ridiculously large house he was forced to call home. A sliver of light flooded the darkened room and for a second he hesitated, stilling his movements. Outside, rain began to patter against the window panes. Chase sighed and opened the fridge wide. He was being silly.

He grabbed a can of coke off the shelf and popped the top, drinking in deeply. Soda in this house was meant only as a refreshment to offer guests. Helen and Arthur's guests, not his. Screw it. They'd beat him if they noticed what he'd done. They'd beat him anyway. Screw it. He took another long drink before setting it on the long counter behind him, eyes on the contents of the fridge as he searched for a meal. That was when he was struck.

Some guy he didn't even know smashed a baseball bat into his shoulder. A friggin' baseball bat. It was wooden, but still hurt like all hell. He reached out to defend against the second blow, when someone else came at him down low. This other man he didn't recognize barreled full force into his legs, causing his knees to give out upon impact. As he fell, he felt confusion, pain, fear. He didn't understand what was happening.

Blows started to rain down on him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't concentrate enough to make them stop. The two men were joined by a third man, who joined in the savagery, and this one he did know. Arthur. He tried to say his name, ask why, but all that came out was a bloody gurgle as crimson leaked past his lips.

Finally it did stop, the attacks ceasing as abruptly as they'd begun. But he was far from relieved when a voice spoke through the dark. A light flicked on and hands fell upon him, gripping him painfully, lifting him up. He was thrown onto the dining table and turned onto his stomach. He tried to roll onto his front, wanting to see his attackers, even through the swelling and liquid obscuring his vision, but the hands were insistent, kept him in place. Why? His mind kept screaming through his steadily rising pain. Why was this happening?

A rough hand found purchase in his hair and wrenched his head back so he was looking straight ahead. Straight ahead was where Helen stood, staring at him with a mixture of uncertainty and regret clear as day upon her face. It was the most caring expression he'd ever seen her look at him with, and now he was terrified. It was the look of someone who knew what was happening to him, and however indirectly or directly she may have caused this, she would not stop it. She felt it was beyond her grasp, that she couldn't do anything. Help me! He felt like screaming. He could barely groan.

Arthur's voice, gruff and spitting with hate, spoke into his ear. "We know what you are. Helen saw you. You're a freak, just like we always suspected. You're a danger to this town. Me and the boys, Helen too, we're going to put you down. For the good of the town. Cause we know what you are... Freak."

His hair released, his head smacked down onto the table, and he felt the power surge. He didn't want to die. Chase could sense his end was near and so he reacted. He kicked the guy at the end by his feet as soon as his grasp became lax, hand reaching elsewhere to grab a stack of rope. The man cursed and Chase used the remainder of his physical strength to roll off the table and blast his power full force in the direction of the table. The magic incinerated the furniture and made skeletons of the two men who'd stood directly in the path of his blast. Jesus. His mind gasped. He hadn't imagined his power could do that to a chair, let alone the men he'd just killed. Jesus.

A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and he was kicked in the face. He fell over onto his side, fresh blood running from his nose. Arthur. He'd missed Arthur. After being kicked several times in the legs, back, and side, he was turned to his stomach, arms wrenched and then tied behind him. Chase couldn't fight. He felt it in his bones, he'd drained all the magic his body could conjure in its weakened state. A gag made of white cloth was affixed around his head.

The people who'd signed a flimsy piece of paper with the weight of someone's world on it, were now conversing in urgent voices. Outside, a storm began to rage, almost as if to compete with the one that had just occurred inside the house. These people standing above him had promised to love and protect him. They'd sworn to make him feel comfortable, safe, loved. Now they were plotting on how to destroy him.

Apparently they'd decided to dispose of him elsewhere. "Far enough away they won't suspect," murmured the woman who'd taken on the title of mother. But really what she meant was, far enough away so she wouldn't have to remember. He wasn't sure when he'd begun to cry, but it froze Helen in her tracks when she stooped to lift the upper half of his body for carrying. The silent tears kept her transfixed, breath stolen away by the child she'd seen grow into a young man.

His eyes drifted away to the calendar on the wall. Her gaze followed his without choice. When she dragged her eyes back to him, suddenly she looked a thousand years older. Helen had recalled his birthday, and in that instant, she knew that a part of her did love him. Her gaze broke from his and she would not look at him again, not even once. She'd come too far in this evil thing to be redeemed. Arthur barked something at her and she lifted. His hope died.

Together they carried him outside and to Arthur's car. Rain soaked them within seconds but neither of them noticed. Their focus was on the task at hand alone. Admirable, if the task wasn't to kill him.

As he was shut away into the dark, cramped space that was the trunk of a car, Chase wondered. The car started up and moved along, away from the house. He wondered how they were going to cover this up. His murder. Perhaps claim he went to stay with relatives? No, they'd say he ran away. They'd tell everyone they have no idea why he would run off. That they'd loved him and did the best they could. But he was a teen now and they got funny ideas of independence and freedom in their heads sometimes. Eighteen was all grown up in the eyes of a high school student.

The surge of power flooded through him and filled him so fast he barely had time to scream. It hurt and yet felt intoxicating at the same time. He could feel himself strengthening, every inch of him, but it was setting off every nerve ending in the process of moving rapidly through his body. Hence, the scream. The power filled him up completely and then exploded outward in a chaotic whirl of raw energy.

Wind and light within darkness became the physical manifestation and it wanted out. The wind started to cut through him painfully and he slammed his eyes shut only for them to rip open a second later to the sounds of metal being wrenched and warped. He found himself staring at the open road as the trunk lock broke free from its latch and he was hurtling out of the enclosed space just as quickly. The energy burned through him, the wind rushed past, and then there was nothing but black.

Chase was brought back to himself with such speed that he fell backwards and hit the hard stone floor. He looked up to see Caleb stumbling away from him, clutching his head. His eyes were still black, still in the midst of the soul search he'd been performing.

"I-can't. I don't want to see anymore."

Anger began to churn inside of Chase's stomach. He leaped to his feet and advanced on the other man.

"What are you doing? You wanted to see this."

"It's enough. I'm done." Caleb murmured.

He sounded like he was in pain. He glanced around the room at the other Sons. They seemed to be in near the same condition as Caleb. So they did feel everything along with seeing it all. Good. They should. They insisted on knowing everything about him so they would.

"You're not done, not yet."

Taking a chance that it would work, he grabbed hold of Caleb's shoulders and locked eyes with him again.

"You're really my father."

Chase stood in front of a pale form of a man, frail and faint in appearance. A ghost.

"And I loved your mother, Chase. You have to get the other covenant members to will you their power. You have to avenge our deaths, son. The covenant betrayed our family. They're a threat to the world and they owe you. You must do this. Whatever it takes."

Once again he was shoved out of Caleb's trance hold. "No!"

But Chase was determined now. "Almost to the beginning of our story, Caleb."

He grabbed the other and stared him down, quite literally, as Caleb sank to his knees.

He had to get away. He had to get out. Stumbling out of the car, he dared not look back at the body he was leaving behind. Chase made it as far as a row of bushes and then he was throwing up in them.

Was what he was doing right? This was what his parents wanted for him? He was so confused. He knew he had to do this though. His parents needed him to because they were no longer alive to protect him, or anyone for that matter. He had to keep going. What was coming would require him to lose a conscience. His parents needed him. They loved him. They needed him to be strong. He'd be ready for what was coming.

Chase staggered further away from the car and kept going. It was okay. It was okay. It had to be or else where did that leave him?

This time when Caleb broke away from him, he didn't resist, and let himself fall. He hit the ground with his back and felt it welcoming. He was exhausted but they'd seen it all. They couldn't call him a liar or accuse him of deceit. The Sons knew his past now, how it'd made him what he was today. They knew his heart.

After acquiring a room from the front desk, Selene made her way to her room. For the early hour, she was feeling awfully tired. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, finding Chase. It was clear he hadn't want to be found though and it stung. All she kept thinking was about how he'd lied to her. How could he not tell her about how bad things were at home? She'd changed her mind about him, wasn't going to leave him, and then he'd left.

As she slipped into her room, she never noticed the man watching her from further down the hall, never noticed the knife he kept tracing a finger across as he stared.