The Nightmare Affair - Page 21/87

I glanced back at the magazine, playing it cool. I would wait him out.

After a while, he said, “So you’re a Nightmare?”

“In the flesh.” I looked over at him.

He smirked. “Lance told me to be careful of you.”

The admission stung, but I managed not to react. It was totally unfair. Lance had never been the victim of one of my magical mishaps. “He’s a jackass.”

Eli’s chuckle took me by surprise, the sound deep and throaty, very male. “Yeah, sometimes. But he’s pretty cool to me, which I didn’t expect. You know, considering somebody like me has no business attending a school like this.”

I flinched at the sound of his bitterness, trying not to feel guilty.

“This place doesn’t even have a football or baseball team.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew all too well how he felt. It had been the same for me, as if I’d been transported to an alien world full of different rules and expectations. But at least I could do magic, unlike Eli. I wanted to say something commiserating, except I remembered what a jackass he’d been in psionics yesterday.

Eli’s behavior still surprised me. He might be a bit of a troublemaker and too arrogant for his own good, and he went through girlfriends about as often as he got a haircut, but I’d never seen him be an outright bully. Just the opposite. More than once I had watched him stand up for the little guy, like that time our freshman year when he told off a senior during a pep rally after the guy started making fun of one of the freshman cheerleaders for being bigger than the other girls on the squad. I thought the senior was going to kill him, but Eli didn’t back down. He hadn’t cared that the guy was older and bigger. All he had seemed to care about was that the girl had run out of the gym crying.

Apparently he was a different person here. Just as well. I’d rather dislike him than secretly pine for him or something equally as stupid. Of course that would be a lot easier if somebody would hit him with the ugly stick. I wondered if there was a spell for something like that.

“Well, I’m not dangerous, no matter what Lance says,” I said.

Eli opened his mouth to respond, but ended up yawning instead.

I returned my attention to the magazine, knowing he would be asleep soon. I could feel The Will at work, those invisible tentacles tugging at me to complete my task. He felt it, too.

It took the better part of five minutes, but eventually I heard the sound of his head hitting the back of the chair. I stood and walked to him, happy to get this over with.

The happiness was short-lived. I’d never dream-fed on someone sitting up in a chair, and I quickly learned why—it was a pain in the ass and awkward as hell. It was also perilous. With my feet perched on the arms, I’d go tumbling off the moment Eli decided to move at all. At least the chair let me keep the direct body-to-body contact at a minimum. That was something.

Given that I’d dream-fed twice since Sunday, I wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. Not that it mattered to The Will—it grew insistent the moment I was in position. I sighed and placed my fingers against Eli’s temples and entered his dreams.

I half-expected to be back at Coleville, but no such luck. Eli was dreaming about football. I was standing on the bleachers at Chickery High stadium, shoulder to shoulder with students. Some of them had the distinctive faces of people I knew, and some were just blank. The blank ones were creepy, like walking, talking mannequins. The dude in front of me was one. He turned around and looked at me with his shapeless eyes, nothing more than divots on his peach-colored skull. Then he pumped his hands in the air as if expressing his enthusiasm for the game.

A little freaked, I flew up and away from the stadium crowd. I spotted Eli on the field among his teammates, who all had distinctive features, thank goodness. Going off what my mom told me about Eli being the channel for the important stuff, I decided to stick close to him.

I alighted onto the field behind a hulking player I recognized as Brian Johnson. Seeing him brought back memories of the first time I ever dream-walked. Not particularly good ones. Nobody thought I’d inherited any Nightmare powers until I woke up one night feeling a hunger no Snickers bar could satisfy. Half-dazed, half-terrified, I broke into Brian’s house, climbed on top of him, and found myself in a dream-world populated by naked girls with big boobs. One of them had been a friend of mine. When I caught Brian trying to grope her, I kicked him, not knowing any better.

Yeah, it didn’t end well.

I contemplated giving Brian another kick now for old times’ sake, but I needed him for cover. I couldn’t trust that Eli wouldn’t spot me again. I peered around his baby-elephant-sized frame and oriented my gaze to match Eli’s. He was staring at something near the stadium, and it took only a second to figure out what. A handful of cheerleaders stood with their backs to the field while they jumped and shouted at the folks in the stands. All save one. Katarina Marcel, wearing the red-and-white short-skirt, short-top ensemble of the CHS varsity cheerleading squad, was facing the field and staring right back at Eli.

“Yeah, this blows,” I muttered.

Talking was a mistake. Eli’s body went rigid, and he spun toward me. “What are you doing here?”

“Whoa, big guy. Hands off.” I raised my arms like a shield, but he kept advancing. I flew up out of his reach.

Eli stopped and stared up at me, wide-eyed. “How are you doing that?”

“I’m a Nightmare, remember? Or did nobody explain it to you?”