Running Home – Chapter 5 (Penn and Sword series)

The ride to the facility is quick. Simon chatters away about upcoming classes and his part-time job at his father’s hotel downtown. I give occasional one-word responses, hoping he gets the hint I’m not in the mood to connect. He and Landon and the rest of the roomies are great but getting close with any of them will only lead to disaster. I’m not much of a relationship girlie. Never was. I’d always had my eye on something… bigger.

“What’s your major?” he asks.

There’s still five minutes of drive time left, and he keeps glancing over to me with his puppy-dog perfect blue eyes. I bite my lip, knowing I’m going to regret answering. “Uh, don’t know yet. Undecided.”

“Nice, exploring your options. That’s cool. What do your classes look like?”

He’s trying to be nice about my lame answer, but it just feels patronizing. I press a calming palm to my tightening chest, hiding it by playing with my necklace charm. Eudora’s voice echoes in my head, a playful laugh, as if she’s listening in on this awkward conversation in the backseat.

“Acantha?” Simon asks.

“Nothing exciting,” I answer coolly. “All the standards, I guess. English, Psych. All the 101’s.”

Simon laughs along, sounding forced. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Sounds like it’ll be cool, though. University life and all that. Hopefully worth the loans,” he jokes.

I shrug, pressing a smile into my mouth. “Probably not.”

Both of us laugh softly as we finally reach the storage facility. I show where he should park while I go inside to my unit.

“Do you need help?” Simon asks, leaning out the car door.

I shake my head and hurry to input my security code and enter the building without him.

All this school talk affects me fast, breaths suddenly tight. Tomorrow I’ll be starting on my new path, my new life. Without Eudora.

I make it to my unit and push inside the small closet-sized room to find the last two boxes inside I couldn’t carry on my own yesterday. The two boxes I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring with me into this new life. One tote marked Bedroom and a cardboard box marked Diner.

Even now, three-week-old greasy odors filter through the air. The same smell I’d grown up in and that coated my lungs. Hesitating, I check my phone in my pocket, finally turning it back on.

No more messages from Mom.

Good. That’s… good.

Still, the ever-present anxious knot in my chest tightens against my sternum.

I can’t deal with this right now. Pushing decisions from my mind, I grab both boxes, intending on shoving them under my bed at Excalibur for now. Class starts tomorrow. I can’t change things. It’s too late. I already decided on my path.

I stack the boxes and hurry from the empty unit. All I have to do is close out the account with the night guard, survive another awkward conversation with Simon, and then I can sleep. Avoid all of this. Mentally prepare for the monumental step into my new life tomorrow. Ugh, I feel like throwing up.

Before I make it back down to the lobby, a crackling zap discharges on my left. Reddish static bolts shimmer across another unit’s door, sparking off the metal knob. I squeak and fall back into the opposite wall, the Diner box toppling to the floor.

The storage unit door swings open, the fresh scent of spicy citrus fogging through the long hall.

Framed in the door, thin and impossible, is Ghost. Red vest pristine and in place, sleeves rolled hastily up his tattooed arms. A stitched up red witch’s hat settles over his mess of black hair. He’s a chaotic, colorful dream walking right into my dull, tragic world.

“Ah, Ms. Sword. I’ve found you at last.”

Ghost steps out of the red room to collect the fallen Diner box and place it back on top of the tote in my arms. I can only stare. He’s supposed to be a figment. Just a dream conjured from stress and lack of sleep. A character of fiction to escape my dismay. He and his fantastical red room can’t actually be real!

Behind him, the reddish glow of the displaced room has returned as well, filled with black-painted shelves, a hanging empty metal bird cage, a rolling chalkboard covered in indecipherable scribbles. It truly is a study or office straight out of a fantasy world.

Ghost pats the box, then sniffs his fingers. “Odd. Why does your box smell like pancakes?”

I swing the boxes away from him. “None of your business. How are you even here?”

“I,” he says, holding up a long finger, “have a question for you. How did you sleep last night?”

I grimace. “Ugh, creepy much?”

“Me?” Ghost shocks backward.

“Yes, you. You’re nothing but a person of-of… creep.”

His bushy brows pull together under the brim of his hat, but Ghost presses on. “I just need to know if you dreamed last night.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“Well, I found your signature with this.” He reaches just inside the impossible room and pulls a tidy folded blanket into his arms.

Eudora’s red felt blanket.

I squeak again, dropping my boxes and snatching the blanket away.

“I need your help,” Ghost goes on.

“This is not the way to ask for help,” I spit, carefully placing the blanket on top of the boxes and picking them back up.

He closes the door behind and locks it with a long metal device, not matching the storage unit doors at all. Yet, it slides right into place and locks with a click. I huff and storm away, shaking my head over and over. This can’t be happening.

Ghost hurries after me. “I sent you a letter. I must trust you.”

“Well, I don’t trust you.” I round a corner toward the elevator.

“What can I do to convince you?” His long fingers find my shoulder, and I shock away from him. “There’s something wrong here, and I need your help. You’ve had the dream, yes?”

“What?”

“The dream. With the wrigglies and crawlies. Taking over your body.”

My angry brows rise. “How… do you know that?”

Ghost smiles again. “You’re not the only one. Sarah before you. Most all of them at least once in the last two weeks. Though, the crawlies seemed to have connected with Sarah the most. But now they’re latching onto you. Quickly, I might add. It’s concerning.”

“I…” I drop my stare to the floor. “Landon did mention—”

“Exactly,” he cuts me off. His gray eyes widen. “But I can’t figure out how they’re doing it.”

“Who?”

“The crawlies. How’re they getting into your dreams?”

“The girl… Sarah. In the room before me. They said… she had a breakdown.”

Ghost nods. “She was a major target. I told her to leave. I’m glad she listened.” Scratching at his neck, he searches his feet one at a time, then snaps his wide eyes back to me. I jump. “In the dream, did the crawlies say anything?”

“Why do you care? What is going on? Who are you!”

His expression settles as he straightens up, holding out a hand. “Ah, yes. Penn. I’m Penn.”

I stare at his long fingers, then his try at a friendly smile. He comes across as more manic than polite, but at least he has a name now. Still, I hesitate. “I shouldn’t shake your hand.”

Penn’s thin lips fall. “Why not?”

“Because I shouldn’t trust you.”

“Shouldn’t…” Penn leans forward, his smile no longer a forced politeness, but excited, curious. His gray eyes search me up and down, but not like Simon or Landon did. It isn’t attraction or interest. No, it feels different. Like he’s… waiting for something. “Or don’t?”

I bite my lip. He shouldn’t exist. It’s impossible that he’s here.

But the knot in my chest has eased. His imploring gaze isn’t off-putting. A thrill twirls through my stomach, like an urge. To meet his expectation. Match his energy. It’s a familiar stomach-flipping call, like the manic buzz of the kitchen. My demanding family. Eudora’s addictive ambition.

I shift the boxes to one hip and take his hand. It’s warm and gentle.

Penn smiles, excitement melting from his eyes into genuine friendliness. “Good to meet you.”

I nod and adjust the boxes back into both arms, holding them like an anchor. This is crazy. “So… what’s with the door thing?”

Penn adjusts his floppy hat, glancing back the way we came. “Oh, well, that’s… that’s complicated.”

“More complicated than creepy-crawlies infiltrating dreams?”

“Very much so. Oh. Are you answering my questions now?”

“I don’t really understand—”

“Acantha,” he addresses me seriously and his tone silences me at once. “You’ve been at Excalibur a single night, and they’ve already hijacked your dreams. I don’t think there’s much time.”

“For what?”

Penn puts the tips of his fingers together, eyes switching back and forth toward some unseen horizon. “Dreams are… malleable. We can control them, to an extent. But to influence another’s dream from the outside, that’s a feat. Takes power. So… how are they doing it? What’s powering them? What’s the source? Because this power on Earth, it’s not right. What could they possibly want with human dreams? It can’t be anything good.”

I blink. “You’re not making sense.”

His gaze finally returns to mine. “Did they say anything to you?”

“I don’t know. It was… creepy. They were everywhere.”

“But did they say anything?”

“There was… a clicking sound.”

“Anything else?”

“Um, something about, ‘where is home,’ or something.”

Penn’s gray eyes go wide. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Completely sure?”

“Yes?”

Despite my confused tone, Penn jumps high, clapping his hands. “Yes! Wonderful, you are wonderful, Acantha Sword. Just wonderful.” He takes off back down the hall, holding his hat in place on his head. Before he vanishes around the corner, he turns, shoes skidding on the concrete floor. “Oh, and don’t fall asleep tonight. Whatever you do. To be safe.” Then he hurries out of sight.

“What? Hey!” I call after.

A ding behind surprises me. The elevator doors open, welcoming me inside. When did I hit the button? I glance back after Penn and hurry to follow, boxes and all. But by the time I reach his door, it’s locked up tight. Citrus spice gone.