

# THE

# SILHOUETTE

# THOMAS WILLIAM SHAW

#

#

# EDITED BY

#

# CARLY STRICKLAND

Copyright 2013 Thomas William Shaw

Smashwords Edition

# CHAPTER ONE

Three weeks ago, my dad disappeared. In that time, my life took on a drastic change deeper than my wildest, death defying dreams. My name is Alan Quinn and this is my story.

My family had just moved into a crooked old house in the tiny town of Ashton, Kansas. It was definitely not the kind of house I preferred to brag about. In fact, the first few rides home from school, I would walk the opposite direction until I could confirm that my school bus had successfully driven away. I couldn't have any potential friends thinking I was a freak.

Don't believe me? The second floor windows were boarded up. Our screen door rarely stayed on its hinges. Weeds and dead flowers scratched my legs when I walked through the front yard. Old trees swallowed all of the light and cheer out of the landscape. If it were not for the Jaguar Dad's employer bought for us parked in the garage, it wouldn't have been crazy for the neighbors to think we were destitute. Fact of the matter, we were anything but destitute.

Dad saw things in a completely different light. He said, "These are our canvases to paint." To him, a strange house acted as the best possible solution for our next _predicament_. And, for the Quinns', there was always a next predicament.

Dad worked for some man I had never met who agreed to pay him unlimited funds for dream studies and to further explore his field. The man also added a clause to Dad's contract where he agreed to move us any time Dad got uneasy about the area. It was easily the worst thing that could have been offered to my family taking into account that my father got uneasy about everything.

I should have gotten used to it after a while. Just at thirteen, I had moved four times to different countries around the world. We were on Australia's Gold Coast up until my sixth year.

My fondest memory of Australia happened to be my worst birthday. My birthday candles kept getting blown out, so I complained to Dad. He insisted it was an invisible person that kept doing the deed. Mom suggested we should have turned the air conditioning off, but Dad had already packed most of our suitcases. Dad's employer sent a car to pick us up the next day, and we were on the next flight to Brazil.

The flight was great. It shook from the time we took off until we landed. The in-flight movie, the animated version of _Alice in Wonderland_ , which I had never really cared for, was left on loop for the duration of the trip. Every time it would start over, Mom would get excited, claiming, "It is like watching my life story unfold. I should never have followed that rabbit." She would follow it up by punching Dad in the shoulder to let him know that he was the rabbit.

Dad spent the whole ride with his face glued to the window as if another world awaited him beyond the clouds and endless blue sky, only taking breaks to jot down notes in his journal. He didn't even notice the plane took three dips towards the ground. Between me and my parents, I was the only one ripping into my arm rests for dear life.

Life in Brazil lasted two years. I do not have a whole lot of memories from that time besides the fact it was always hot and I never really fit in. Dad was okay with Brazil until some new neighbors moved in next door. He spied on them from his bedroom window, claiming they were doing the same thing to us during the night. Mom thought the neighbors invited our family to one too many salsa dances, but, other than that, had no problems with them. The night we skipped town, I didn't have a pillow to sleep. Dad had already packed it up.

He said, "I bet it is a cover up. First, it is salsa dancing. Next, brainwashing and espionage." There was no time to argue before we were off to the next stop on the Quinn family world tour.

London won the prize of being my favorite place we have lived even if it was only for a few days. What I loved most? The way it affected Mom.

We used to explore the city together while Dad was off experimenting. Mostly sticking to window shopping, Mom would let her curly blonde hair bounce against her shoulders while she asked me how glamorous she would look in some of the dresses. Occasionally she used her acting chops from her days as a performer to enchant whoever would stop by and watch. She quoted Shakespeare, sang, and anything else to drag all of the attention to her. To an outside eye, it would appear mushy and boring. To me, it was a time to see my mother at her happiest.

On the last day, Dad was up to his old tricks, freaking out over nothing, and breaking Mom's heart. She got so mad at my father for forcing us to move again it practically made her curls tie themselves in knots. Still, he would not budge, citing that there was a bar down the street from our flat that housed _suspicious_ individuals.

He said, "It is only a matter of time before they begin to riot and destroy our home."

We downgraded from our pleasant London flat to a tiny cottage in Nowhere, Germany, because _they_ could not get us there. Germany started him with the _theys_ and the _thems_. It didn't help that we had a group of men, who had been following us ever since we had left Brazil, who claimed to be _dream chasers_ that fed his paranoia. I only saw them in passing, but Dad referred to them as business partners whenever he was around Mom. She only believed him because they shared his interest in dreams. Dreams were what he obsessed over.

The night before we moved from Germany, I overheard one of the dream chasers, Davison, informing Dad that "things had been taken care of." It often made me wonder if my Dad was a spy for the government or something. The idea made moving to Ashton, Kansas a little easier to swallow. At least he would have been something cool.

I never knew much else about them, but Mom never failed to make fun of Dad and his friends every time he came home from their meetings. She really blew her gasket when they followed us to Ashton. The fact that they served to be one more reason for Dad to avoid our family made them unfavorable to me, too.

On week nights, they would get together in the musty, cobwebbed basement level of our home. I often had trouble getting enough sleep because sleeping was difficult when six or seven grown men were yelling at the top of their lungs about a dream they had the night before. Their voices would carry right through the vent in my bed room.

Some of the dreams sounded normal. One example would be like realizing you were in a public place and missing your pants. Another would be the classic where the dreamer leapt from a tall skyscraper to his doom. Most of the dreams were cheesy, but Dad had bizarre dreams about dragons, a magical city, and shadow people he referred to as _Silhouettes._

He would say, "They reached for me, ripping and pulling me from my bed to their world. Naturally, I fought back against their prying fingers, but I grew tired. What did I find? Horror? Death? No. I found Poetry. A castle, colored with pastels like a child only could have drawn, stood as the backdrop for meadows lush with blue grasses. Children who could shift in to any animal they so choosed rolled around with creatures I couldn't even pretend to describe, but that isn't even the best part. You want to hear the best part?"

"Tell us," the dream chasers would beg.

"The world had a construction crew. I could feel the heat beat against my face as not men, but dragons used their flames for creation. I promise I woke up with holes burnt out of my bed clothes."

I could tell by the silence amongst the group that all of their jaws had dropped. I placed my hand on my own jaw to discover it had done the same.

It got to where in the second week I would purposely stay awake until Dad took his turn. Mom called him delusional and childish, but I thought no matter how weird some of it sounded, he at the least told great stories.

One night he said, "There is a twist to this world—Draio—it is where all of your favorite authors, artists, performers go to live on, creating."

Teasing him, I heard Davison say, "You've taken this too far, Reese."

"I have not taken it far enough. I was a teenager in a classroom being taught by none other than Mark Twain. This time it felt less like a dream and more like a—memory."

"This place," the dream chasers would ask, "is it heaven?"

"No. It is more like a waiting room. Who am I to decide? You do not have to die to get there, but you can not possibly know how to live until you arrive."

The night before he disappeared, special interest grabbed me when he took his turn and included my name, Alan, in the tale.

He foresaw a revolution coming for the world he visited in his dreams, and I was the one to have initiated it. I usually listened to his stories from my bed, but for that one, I had to climb down to the floor and place an ear to the vent.

His voice trembled with fear as he spoke, "The _Silhouetes,_ with their prejudice, will woe the day they attempted to recruit Alan to their ranks. They will try to warp him to their cause, but loyalty never lies. No, no. I saw them again last night—the cages. The world, once so magical, is a distant blur, but there are some animals that deserve to be caged. If they escape, brothers, we must fight!"

One of the members broke in, "How do you know any of this is real?" He stole the words right out of my mouth.

Dad did not hesitate. He said, "I saw it in a dream. How can it _not_ be real?"

It was the most powerful thing I had heard him say. Just hearing it made me want to leap on to my bed and rush to sleep. I would have given anything to escape to that world. I climbed under my covers, closed my eyes, and let my dreams take over.

The wonderful feeling did not last long. The alarm on my digital clock sounded off, letting me know four in the morning had arrived, making it far too early for me to be awake on a school day. I did not remember setting it for that time.

My head pulsed with a headache thanks to the noise of my parents arguing in the living room. Fighting was not so uncommon for them, but the loudness and terror in Dad's voice was all it took to persuade me to hop out of my bed and get right up against the door to hear what they were fussing about.

I cracked it open, instantly regretting my decision. From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I could see Dad desperately pacing back and forth in our exceptionally wide living room, occasionally tripping over the coffee table as he fiddled with the black tie wound tightly around his neck. The tie matched the pristine suit he had put on, tailor-made for—moving.

Mom sat on our satin red couch with a glass of pink wine in her hand, a stuck up expression on her normally pleasant face. Dad mumbled her name, Maggie, repeatedly while Mom rolled her bright blue eyes, shining with assistance from the dancing flames in our fireplace. All of the signs were there that typically lead to another move, but something felt a tad off-pattern.

Dad finally broke the awkward silence that had been hanging in the air. He said, "They are coming for him, Maggie. It is time to face it. We can not protect him anymore unless you listen to me and allow us to leave."

He could not find his balance. A sweat ring coated his button-up. He kept struggling to swallow with his dried throat. I had never seen him so nervous before. The whole thing made me want to run to get him water before he'd go on a mad scramble to pull out the suitcases.

He didn't even stop pacing until Mom sat down her wine glass and drunkenly wobbled off of the couch. She reached out her arms to give him a hug. A bizarre tactic, but it shook up my father long enough to calm him down. The embrace, identical to their wedding portrait hanging above the couch on the wall, reminded me they were once in love.

"Thank you. I know it will be tough to move again so soon," Dad said, gripping tightly to Mom's waist. She whispered something in his ear, leaving a shade of betrayal in his eyes.

He said, "Could you repeat what you said, Maggie? I am not sure I heard you."

Mom's tears poured freely as she pushed him away. She spoke quietly at first, but got louder and louder, screaming, "There's no one coming."

I should have closed my door right then and blocked out the whole argument, but I knew the noise would obligate them to include me in their conversation. All I could do was watch as Dad exploded.

He protested, "Are you out of your mind?"

Mom shook off her tears and stomped off to the kitchen, ignoring the repeated warnings about the creatures who were apparently coming for me. I almost believed it. Then I thought, "Who could possibly want a teenager whose only claim to fame is the ability to adapt to new environments on the fly?" Moving so often, I certainly had some experience to draw from.

Dad gripped his tie like he was ready to choke himself. He said, "Do not worry. I will take his place and go instead." His eyes widened with crazy ideas. "Yeah, it will have to work."

He stopped and waited for Mom's response, which didn't look like it was ever going to come. She stomped back in, holding his personal suitcase she grabbed from the next room over.

The wine had kicked in, adding fuel to her sarcastic attitude, "Alright, Reese, if you want to save him from the awful _they_ who's trying to hurt us, by all means go."

Ignoring Dad's dead-eyed reaction, Mom held up the suitcase, "Well?"

He ripped it out of her hands, "I wish you understood the risks I am taking to protect this family. I really do."

The suitcase hit the ground. Its wheels popped out on impact. Dad grabbed the handle and banged it up the stairs and down the narrow hallway, passing framed photographs of the three of us spending time together—as a happy family.

I quietly closed my door so he couldn't see me, but I wish I hadn't. It would be the last time I'd see him for a while.

Fast forward three weeks and I was pulling out a sticky note from my writing desk to add another check. I had to keep up with the search somehow, considering Mom gave up on the hunt after a week in favor of her rapidly growing wine habit. I figured she was enjoying the peace.

It burned me up, but she was strangely contented that he went off with his new family: the dream chasers. She said he would soon decide to give up and return home. It was good enough for her, but it was in no way good enough for me.

The few times I had brought the subject up, she hid her head in one of her books or quickly changed the subject. So, Detective Alan Quinn was left to investigate. Case in point, that investigation was going nowhere.

Since we were new to the small town of Ashton, the police didn't have the motivation or the resources to track Dad down. I spent the remaining days of fall hanging signs around town to no avail. There were a few townies who promised Mom and me they would keep an eye out, but my faith in them was dwindling.

During the search was when I met Jessica LeCarre and her family. She was a girl about my age who I had taken a particular liking to, considering she was the prettiest girl I had ever met. She had fiery red hair and emerald green eyes and, as a bonus, she would help me put up fliers for my father whenever I would come to Main Street. She was a bright spot during what I considered a very dark time.

Mom assured me I should let the search for my father go and tried anything in her power to distract me. She went as far as getting me a golden lab I jokingly named Peaches—to remind me of how peachy everything had become—from a local rescue to help me get over the loss.

Extremely frustrated, I decided to make the most of the gesture and latched on to my new dog. She was a welcomed friend in a time when I desperately needed one—well, one that could be better company at home.

Despite Mom's attempts to slow me down, I pressed on, keeping an ever growing record of a man who was never 100% there for me to begin with. Besides the few times I would see him during a move, he made the most out of staying as far away from me as possible. In the time that I spent searching for him, it made me wonder why I even bothered. Then again, part of me hoped he would finally come around and act like a normal Dad. I had to find him first.

One morning, I planned to take my search to the local bookstore. I put on some clothes with my favorite green jacket and grabbed my messenger bag, filled to capacity with fliers. Luckily, the store stood only a few blocks from my house, allowing me to take the other pity gift Mom got me for transport: a shiny new bicycle.

It was a good thing, too. Mom sounded busy banging away on the keys of her newly purchased grand piano. Singing a few show tunes with another bottle of Chardonnay, there was no hope for her to drive me.

I left my room and found Mom had redecorated the hallway while I slept. Like I had mentioned before, Mom used to be involved with theatre. She used to talk about it sparingly, but now every picture of my parents together had been replaced by a photograph of her time on the stage, switching the inside of the home to a Maggie Quinn shrine. To me, her attitude about all of it came off as childish and unfair, but she never asked me my opinion about that sort of thing.

Down the stairs, I spotted her in the middle of the living room and waved goodbye, hoping she wouldn't notice me leaving, but Peaches saw me and blew my cover.

Peaches' rough barks stopped Mom during a big number. Her eyes locked on to mine, sentencing me to death. She said, "What's in the bag, Alan?"

I tried to avoid eye contact and focused on the door, "Oh, some books. I'm going to check out _Victor's_ down the street."

Her tactic switched to playful, "Who is Victor and why is he more important than staying inside to listen to the great Margaret "Maggie" Quinn putting on a glorious revue of Sondheim classics?"

" _Victor's_ is the local book shop. I'll only be gone for the afternoon."

I was almost home free and out the door when she called out with the force of Hades, "Well, if I see any more pictures of your deadbeat father around this town, you're grounded. Am I clear?" She laughed at her own words in between drunken hiccups.

I couldn't let her keep me away from the mission. I played along, came back to kiss her on the cheek, and left for the store. The search for Dad was hard enough without her nagging me. If I was the only one who cared about finding him, I had to do it without distractions.

Otherwise, he was gone forever.

# CHAPTER TWO

Main Street, Ashton was a quaint part of town. It held tightly on to its old western motif and boasted a population of barely a thousand people on the weekends. I always thought Dad had succeeded in his mission to move us to the tiniest of insignificant towns and as far away from civilization as possible.

Mom loathed Ashton. In terms of suffocation, she often compared it to a python constricting her throat. I, at least, appreciated living by vintage shops like _Victor's_ , which happened to be the highlight of the town. Jessica and I had met there several times when we were hanging up fliers and at no time was it ever empty.

Outside, I picked up my bike, checked to make sure the mechanics remained in order, hopped on, and put my feet to the pedals. As I rode down the few blocks required to get to my destination, the late summer sunlight reflected off my spokes, making it difficult to read all the street signs or see anything along the lines of a landscape.

The street signs were one of the ways Dad used to coerce Mom into the idea of Ashton. Harkening back to her love of _Alice in Wonderland_ , a _Queen of Hearts Avenue_ led to the richer end of the community and a _Little White Rabbit Drive_ led to the part of the population Mom always mused were doomed to be late everywhere they went. We lived on _Hatter Circle_ ourselves.

As I neared Main Street, I could see the store was packed to capacity with people who must have traveled from all over the state, considering they almost matched the town's population person for person. A line stretched from the front door all the way down the street. It seemed excessive, but I couldn't imagine that all of them would deny a flier if I handed it to them.

I parked the bike in the alleyway between _Victor's_ and a small office and ran up to one of the eager customers: a man in a shiny, purple suit with his pale nose turned up so high he might as well have begged insects to fly in, assuming his blazing red hair didn't attract them first.

I said, "Excuse me, sir? Sir?" as he swatted at me with one hand while protecting a large object the size of a phone book with the other. I tried again, "Sir? Can I ask you a quick question?"

He reluctantly lowered his gaze. Refusing to address me as anything more than an annoying pre-teen, he sighed loudly and said, "What do you want, boy? I have a very important schedule to attend to. Not everyone could be so lucky to hold my spot in line."

I did my best to overlook his rude behavior. Considering most of the people in town were quite nice, I was certain the man wasn't from Ashton. I said, "Everyone looks pretty excited. I just wanted to know who everybody is here to see."

The man gasped in shock, causing a huge scene for all in earshot. He said, "Who is everybody here to see? WHO IS EVERYBODY HERE TO SEE? I would expect nothing less from someone obviously so uncultured."

He centered himself like he had been preparing his speech all day. Proudly, he said, "Only the greatest mind of our generation. He is splendiferous, transcendent, even god-like and, of all of the fantastical places in the world, he chose this silly town to sign copies of his new book. Otherwise, I assure you that we would never be having this conversation. MARK. MY. WORDS."

I took a few steps back. I studied the faces of the onlookers and discovered I was alone in thinking I had made a huge mistake choosing to talk to that weirdo. Each person was equally excited about the signing as he was and some of them were practicing their own monologues. I knew any second there would be a mob decision to take me back down the alleyway and beat me unconscious for invading their territory.

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but the rude man clamped my mouth shut with his finger and thumb. He whispered harshly, "I will be damned if an insolent child continues to interrupt the memorization of what I plan to say to Darius once I'm inside. He truly is an extraordinaire. He is _the_ extraordinaire."

And with that, he faced forward and returned his nose back to its place as bug catcher. I couldn't wait till one would fly in.

I snuck a glance at the book he had been clinging to so tightly. In big fancy letters it read: _Dream to Dare by Darius the Dream Extraordinaire_. The cover featured an African warrior dressed in a cloak, slaying a dragon that was flying above a woman sleeping peacefully on a cloud. A little ridiculous, I thought, but I figured if I were going to get the word out about Dad, the size and scope of Darius' audience made them perfect for my goal.

I pushed my fliers out of my hands and into those of the waiting crowd. A few of them either handed the fliers right back or crumbled and dropped them on the ground. On the other hand, a few of the locals were nice enough to hold on to them, so it wasn't a total waste.

Exhausted from performing my prepared speech to each person, "He was a good man. Bring him home," I decided to take a break, assumed a spot at the back of the line, and waited my turn to enter the store.

As I was catching my breath, a hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me around. The owner of the hand, a middle aged black man dressed neatly in a shiny pitch black business suit, said a friendly "Hello." I noticed a pin on his right chest pocket that featured a paintbrush painting a portrait of the world. I said what anyone else would say in that situation, "Cool pin."

He took immediate interest in the fliers, saying, "What are these things you are handing out, my boy?" He smiled as he grabbed a few out of my hands. "Reese Quinn, hmm? Sounds like an important man to me. This is your father, I take it? Looks like an honorable man."

I nodded my head _yes_ , feeling elated someone else was taking an interest in the search besides a few older couples who probably didn't really know what I was carrying on about.

I said, "He was a good man. Bring him home."

He placed his hand on my back, "Say, why should we not go inside and spread the word out about your old dad? I love adventures. I am sure it will be an easy time finding an interested party to help us out."

I said, "Really? I mean, you are actually going to help?"

He pulled me past the waiting line, saying, "Why not?"

The heat of the crowd's glares crawled up my neck, and I was surprised when their rage switched to shouts of joy when they looked over my shoulder and saw who was helping me inconvenience their day. I peered at the man to see if he was doing something to entertain them. Their stares were beginning to make me feel uncomfortable.

I attempted to pull away, saying, "Should we be doing this? I mean isn't there someone signing autographs inside? Honestly, I can wait. No one cares enough to help anyways—"

A member of the crowd ran out of the pack and knocked me out of the way to shake the man's hand. It caught me off guard until I saw the big poster hanging from one of the bookstore's windows. Everything from the brown mocha skin, to the black suit he wore matched the man in the poster to my friendly helper. I already thought he had a magical air about him, and now he happened to be the man everyone came to see.

"You are Darius?" I said.

He laughed a big, boisterous laugh. I was already nervous, considering I was not familiar with the guy, and it was bad enough that he stood just over six feet tall, but his personality made him appear twelve feet taller. I was an ant in a giant's kingdom.

He said, "It is a rare find when I go on tour that I meet someone who does not know who I am. I find it quite refreshing. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr.?" He reached out his hand.

I shook it, unable to control the look of surprise on my face. There was still hundreds of people waiting to meet him and he had come up to talk to _me_ to deal with _my_ problems.

"Alan—Alan Quinn," I responded modestly.

Almost on queue, the whole crowd rushed to him, blocking any through traffic on Main Street. I would have been swallowed up if Darius hadn't maintained his tight grip on my shoulders. Once again, I was thankful.

Darius raised his right hand and gently waved it around the crowd to signal a perimeter. When they finally settled down, he made an announcement. His voice as smooth as silk, the crowd captivated, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, before your eyes stands Darius the Dream Extraordinaire and I DARE. YOU. TO. DREAM."

A loud, girlish scream rose over Darius' voice in the back of the fan fare, "Darius! DARIUS! OH MY GOD, DARIUS." I did not have to look over the masses to figure out it was the snobby ginger man I had talked to in line.

Darius continued, "Quiet, my children. You have come here to honor me and my exploits. For that, I cherish you wholly in my heart of hearts."

The crowd cheered in hysterics.

"I, however, have arrived with a stronger motivation that I would love all of you to hear."

The snobby man waved his hands wildly over his section of the mob, "Tell us what it is. I'll do anything you ask. OH MY GOD, DARIUS."

Darius placed his hand against his right ear and pretended to wait for everyone's answer. He said, "If I am not mistaken, I do not think anyone wants to hear."

The crowd screamed. I ducked my head due to the people overload. Darius said, "To help this boy find his father. What could be more magical than that?"

Painful groans swept the crowd. Darius lowered one of his hands under my chin and lifted my head. He whispered in my ear, "They will come around. Let us head inside."

He guided me all the way past a pyramid made of copies of his book and directly to the signing table that was decorated with minatures of planets. A poster of a cloud was just above the table with handmade lightning bolts hanging over it. It was beyond gimmicky, but I appreciated it.

Darius took a seat in a large leather chair behind the table. He called one of the associates over who bolted in our general direction. Darius said, "Find my clever friend another chair like my own, could you?"

The associate's face reddened, "That is the only chair like that we have."

Darius stared directly into his eyes with cold anger.

The associate replied, "Yes, Darius, sir. We will get right on it," and had two other associates get a regular chair together that they stacked a few pillows on. I would have been happy just to have a seat but that worked fine. I assumed my spot next to Darius and waited for the signing to begin.

The tension hanging in the air with the large crowd outside was nothing compared to the lucky people that were allowed to enter _Victor's_ first. They anticipated Darius' autograph by licking their lips like wild beasts ready for the kill. I worried they were going to attack me at first oppurtunity.

Each customer in the store, mad as a bull in Pamplona, held their merchandise for Darius to sign. Darius shrugged their intensity off with class and inserted a flier into each one of their books. It was easily the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for me, so why did I feel like there was a catch? The air about him gave me the uneasy feeling I had known him all my life.

"Why was he so familiar?" I wondered.

I shifted my attention to one of his books lying on the corner of the table to clear my mind. The ridiculous cover broke up my worries like they were made of styrofoam. I could not help but burst into laughter once I realized it was Darius on the cover lifting the massive sword over his head in preparation of decapitating an evil dragon before it could chomp down on the damsel in distress. I wished my dreams were that cool.

Darius signed a few more copies. He said to me, "What is so funny, _little_ Quinn?"

I gazed at the cover again, "Your book cover. It reminds me of some of the silly stories Dad used to tell right before he disappered—or ran away."

"It is not so uncommon for a group of friends to have the same kinds of dreams," Darius mused. "Every picture you will find in there is a drawing of an actual dream I have had."

"Friends?"

"Did I say friends? I meant fellow—people."

He was not the best actor. I could not decide if he was one of those play it for the cameras kind of guys who did anything to impress fans or perhaps he truly meant every word he spoke. Darius' way with words was a clear indicator as to why he had such a large following. I still couldn't put my finger on why he chose Ashton of all places for his book signing.

While Darius was too busy recounting a few of his _legends_ to his fans, I sifted through the book. I almost had a heart attack when I got to the dedication page. In big letters and unmistakable print, it read:

For Reese Alan Quinn

A true collaborator, A true visionary

I had heard of coincidences, but that one grabbed the cake and threw it out the window. That book was either dedicated to my father or someone else on this planet had his full name and his affinity for dreams.

The few pages after the dedication were even weirder. There were photos of Darius leaping off the Hindenburg before it went up in flames, others of him having a sword fight with Adolph Hitler, and one other of him riding a giant whale I assumed was supposed to be _Moby Dick_. Perhaps they were just dreams he'd had and maybe then I would understand, but I could not place my finger on the picture located at the bottom right corner of the last page.

An ancient looking photograph, too realistic to be photoshopped, had a young black boy in overalls, maintaining an emotionless expression. I had taken enough history classes to know the photo had all the signs of the days of the earliest cameras. If you moved you got a blurry picture. Was it a picture of Darius? Doubtful. It would have made him easily a hundred and fifty years old, but curiosity overcame me.

I said, "Mr. Darius, uh, sir?"

He ignored me, saying, "I think this is going quite well, son. Fans are getting signed copies of my book and the word is getting out about your father. If victory had a name it would be _Victor's Books and Coffee._ "

I grinned weakly and drew his attention to the photograph with some well timed elbow nudges. Not wanting to sound like a total idiot for thinking otherwise, I asked him if he was related to the boy or if it was one of his _dream portraits_. He delivered an ice cold stare, sending a chill up my spine. It even frightened a few of the people standing in front of the table.

Then he laughed until he coughed. He said, "Honestly, this is my Great Great Great Grandfather, Fredrick. It may be a hard part of my ancestry's past, but it is better to reflect than to ignore. It is one of my most frequent dreams, you know?"

"You look just like him."

I pulled the book in closer to study the outline of the boy's face and matched it with Darius.

He just chuckled, "I believe so, too. Fredrick is an unsung hero of sorts. He is quoted as having sworn to his slave owners they could rob his people of their freedom but never of their dreams. It is a motto I strive by."

"So, I was looking in the book and—"

"And?"

"Did you know my father?"

He winked at me, stood up, and announced to the crowd, "Autographs will be on hiatus until this afternoon."

Most of the crowd pouted, coupled with some words Mom would never allow me to say. The guy in the purple suit had to be dragged out of the store kicking and screaming by a few associates after he drove his entire body into the book pyramid in protest.

When the store cleared out, Darius and I watched a few store associates scramble to get the store clean for another round of pandemonium. Awkward did not begin to describe how I felt.

Darius turned to face me, "I am going to let you in on a little secret. I caught wind of your father's disappearance a few days ago and requested my tour be moved to Ashton. He is, if you have not guessed, an old friend."

He continued, "As you can see in my book, your old man and I have known each other for quite some time and I would be lying if I said I did not know who you were when I met you today. You might say I have been a vital force in the survival of your family even if I have not seen them up close in some time."

"You are my Dad's employer?"

"I prefer colleague, but employer has a nice ring to it. We have put in a lot of field work together over the years, generating lucrative results. That is, until he met a group of paranoids."

I mouthed the words under my breath: _dream chasers._

"Is that what they called themselves?," Darius smirked, "I am the only one that stood up to him when he started talking about the—how should I put this?—the dream world. And why should I not have? His imagination is what got me into writing and I have a lot to thank him for, which, under better circumstances, I would be doing today."

I hoped he wouldn't notice my eyes glazing over from ingesting the new developments. What were the odds I would walk into _Victor's_ the same day the man who had financed my family for years was having a signing?

Darius opened his book to the middle to show me a chapter labeled _Draio._ He said, "All that talk aside, his babbel about his dream world inspired this chapter."

The pictures on the page depicted ancient, mystical dragons breathing fire and other clichés dragons are known for, but the fire wasn't burning anything to the ground or creating horrific chaos for anyone around.

The flames were creating castles, plant life, and producing a magnificent sapphire sky. Whenever fire came to mind, I imagined poor people and animals losing their homes and the sadness that followed. The pictures only made me think of one word: _magic._

Darius pointed to the text, "It is an interpretation, of course. Your Dad told me about this particular dream and I added it to the book like I always do," he straightened his suit jacket. "Alan, I want to try an experiment."

"What sort of experiment?"

He winked again, "Some secrets are not meant to be passed on, but I assure you it will not only reveal the location of your father, but it may also prove Draio is a real living and breathing entity. What do you say to that?"

I looked into his eyes lamely, "I thought you didn't believe him."

Darius insisted, "A theory remains a theory until proven valid. What do you say to a little bit of adventure?"

Just glad there was someone out there as interested as me in finding my father, I considered shaking his hand on it. I said, "Maybe Mom would be happy to see a familiar face."

His eyes were a shade tragic, "I am sorry?"

I said, "It's a small town and the nearest hotel is miles away. Is this experiment something we can do at my house?"

He nodded. His voice a little shakier than it had been, he said "I suppose that would be a nice venue for such an experiment. I-I assume your mother will be there?"

I said, "Would that be a problem? You got her that piano. I just thought—"

He resumed his cool nature, "Yes, indeed. That will be fine."

I hopped up from my seat, knocking the pillows over in the process. I said, "Ok, I will let Mom know you will be over for dinner?"

Darius bowed from his spot, "Would not dream of missing it."

Quickly, his attention turned to a specific corner of the room. His face filled with alarm, I looked over my shoulder but saw no one there.

I said, "Are you alright?" but received no response. "I'll be going now."

He shook his head slowly like he had seen a ghost, but I shrugged it off on my way out the door. Like I said, he wasn't a very good actor.

# CHAPTER THREE

When I left the store, I noticed the remainder of Darius' fans had begun pitching tents in preparation for the next round of autographs. Their voices, coupled with a busy Ashton Saturday, were almost enough to mask any foot steps following too closely, but I heard them loud and clear. I stopped walking and hit the breaks a few blocks from the alleyway. The culprits stumbled over me. I was happy to find that it was Jessica and her brother, Gerry.

Jessica and her brother were one of the first people I had met after the move. Ashton didn't have the luxury of being large enough for its own school so the few kids who did live in the town had to go to school in the wealthier city of Dahlgreen.

I typically knew our bus had made it to the much larger town when Ashton's uncomfortably bumpy road ran smooth. My heart always sank when we got close since Dahlgreen Junior High played host to some of the meanest, vilest creatures on the planet and those were just the gym teachers. On my first day of school, Coach Cyrus, a man with a beer gut the size of six basketballs glued together, convinced the kids in my P.E. class to play dodge ball with the new kid.

Doesn't sound so bad, right? Well, it was twenty of them against me. It took a month for those welts to clear up.

The only person who didn't join in was Jessica who always came off to me as a bit of a girly girl due to her distaste of sports. During dodge ball, she usually opted to wear skirts and did her homework while she patiently waited for gym class to end. That being said, she was the one that helped me up that first time I was knocked on my butt while the other kids played basketball around me till the bell rang.

Jessica was my first friend at school and one of the only kids I knew who commuted from Ashton. Her dad taught social studies and took a particular interest in me due to my father's obsession with dreams. He often would ask me to recite Dad's stories. I never told him about the dream chasers for fear he might want to join up and put Jessica and Gerry through the same troubles Mom and I had gone through.

Jessica and Gerry followed me down the alleyway as I went to retrieve my bike. Gerry, the king of keeping to himself, was too busy playing a copy of _Face Basher 36_ on his new handheld while Jessica did all of the talking.

She said, "Hey, what's up? We, uh, saw you get escorted into the store and—and—did you really get to meet Darius?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I said, "Yeah. He was pretty cool, I guess," barely concealing my excitement.

She said, "His work reminds me of this cool show on HBO: _Game of_ _Thrones_. I know my dad says I am too young to watch it, but when I hear something has knights, kings, and dragons I come running. Well, did you watch it last night? I hate giving away spoilers."

Ok, maybe she wasn't a girly girl. She just was not like other girls and I loved that about her.

I said, "We don't have a TV," but I was too distracted by the fact that something just seemed so different about her. Instead of the usual sweat shirts and skirts she favored, she wore a yellow flower dress and a fresh coat of make up.

I asked, "Are you wearing lip gloss?"

Jessica said, "Shut up," and punched me in the arm. "Today is the anniversary of when my Mom died. This is the last dress she bought me. I like to wear it as a memoriam."

She pulled a picture of her mother out of her backpack. I examined the similarities between Jessica and her mother. They both had emerald green eyes and amber red hair.

"She died when I was three."

"I didn't know."

"It doesn't make me sad anymore. I just like to remember."

"Well, she was really pretty and you—"

She punched me in the shoulder again. She said, "Don't go saying you think I'm pretty too. I'll break your nose. So, me and Gerry are about to go across the street to get something to eat. Dad gave us some money to use while he gets his autograph from _Darius the Dream Extraordinaire_."

"I would but I have to get back home."

"It won't take that long." She gave me a big cheesy smile. "Please?"

"Your dad is getting an autograph?"

She said, "Of course. So, are you coming?"

We both laughed together while we walked as a trio to the _Red Hearts Café_ across the street. Jessica and I couldn't stop joking about the wallpaper which was covered in all of the different hearts cards from the playing cards. I never understood the towns obsession with _Alice in Wonderland_ but they couldn't be faulted for choosing to embrace it, thoroughly.

The three of us took a seat in a booth near the middle of the restaurant. Gerry took a break from his video game long enough to shout out that we needed service. His sense of humor was a little dry.

"Gerry, they will be with us in a moment," Jessica scolded.

Back to his video game, Gerry said, "Could you guys quiet down, I'm trying bash all these faces."

Jessica placed a finger over her lips, "Shhh. We wouldn't want to disturb the prince on his quest."

She turned to me, "So, your dad still isn't back? I know I can't get your mind off of him but even I'm getting worried. Come up with any theories since yesterday?"

Even though her words pained me as they wiggled into my ears, Jessica gave me a sense of comfort I hadn't felt in any of the times my family had moved. It was nice to have someone to listen to me. I'd be lying if I said it didn't help that I was captivated every time she spoke. It was her eyes that pulled me in.

I said, "I think my parent's last fight was the final straw. Mom won't tell me directly but I think they are trying to—to separate. Maybe that would be for the better."

Jessica shook her head, "Separation is not for everybody. We have gone this long without a Mother figure, but our dad is an ace at multi-tasking. Honestly, I still wish we had her around though. Let's just hope that your parents work everything out."

I said, "I don't know. It might make things more peaceful."

Jessica said, "That's crazy talk. So, there is this kid named Jeremy in my math class, right?"

"So?"

"Well, if you would let me finish without interruption."

"Sorry."

She cleared her throat, "Anyways, his parents got in a huge fight, but they noticed how it made him feel and bought him a Xbox 360. Not saying it always ends up that way, but maybe your Dad will come home and bring you a gift. It'll work out."

I said, "What would I do with an Xbox 360?"

She laughed, "Give it to me."

"And me," said Gerry, still staring at his game.

She suggested, "Maybe he has just left to give you and your Mom the benefit of a good story."

It wasn't poetry but it was enough to get me through the painful thoughts. It sounded exactly like something Dad would pull.

She said, "I shouldn't have brought it up, but I hate seeing you so bummed out all of the time."

A waitress dressed in a red and black polka dot skirt, her nametag read _Martina,_ walked up to the table and took our order. I got a bacon cheeseburger with fries while Jessica requested a sauce-less, pickle-less chicken sandwich.

Gerry attempted to order the hot fudge and ice cream covered brownie volcano but Jessica kicked him in the shin. It quickly changed his decision to, "I'll just have a grilled cheese," before he shifted his attention back to his game.

Jessica studied her menu a little closer, turning up her nose when she saw exactly what I had ordered. She said, "You know your sandwich has lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, right? Are you sure you want to subject yourself to a veggie explosion?"

"What? I'm hungry."

Jessica said, "I'll never pretend to understand. Be a dear, Martina, and add some Cokes to our order," and waved Martina off like she was an heiress at a fancy Manhattan restaurant. Martina rolled her eyes, snatched our menus, and moved on to place our order with the kitchen. Jessica continued, "So, what was Darius like?"

"Why do you keep asking me that? Don't roll your eyes at me."

"You know exactly why I keep asking that. This town doesn't have an awful lot to talk about but they will definitely be talking about this. Being your only friend ought to entitle me to the scoop."

I said, "You are not my only—I said don't roll your eyes at me!"

I placed my hands against my cheeks to conceal the pink shade that had undoubtedly overtaken them. Even Gerry who would normally rather implode then tear himself away from his own personal video game universe had his eyes wide with anticipation for my next words. To add insult to injury, the nearest tables to us had ceased their own conversations so they could eavesdrop. Being the center of attention was not on my list of favorite things, but today seemed to demand it.

I lowered my voice to keep the conversation in our booth. A little cocky, I said, "It was kind of cool. Turns out I've known him my whole life."

Jessica and Gerry shared looks that made me uneasy. Jessica said, "Duh, everyone has known him for that long. This is the fourth book he's released. You have to travel to outer space to find someone who doesn't have a copy and even that would be a struggle."

"It's not like that. He was my dad's b—"

"Your DAD'S WHAT?"

"Please keep your voice down."

She lowered her voice to a whisper, "Sorry. He was your dad's what?"

"Boss. He paid for us to come here and everywhere else we've lived. My family kind of owes everything to him, but—

"But, what?"

"I don't know. If it had not been for his support, we probably would have stayed in one place. I could've grown up with—"

Jessica said, "Friends?" She gave me a face that warned me to choose my next words carefully.

I said, "That's not what I meant. I was going to say a childhood."

"Don't dwell on it. We never had much of a childhood either. They are kind of overrated."

Gerry exclaimed, "It could have been amazing."

Jessica hit him on the arm, "Do not bring that up right now."

I said, "What could have been amazing?"

Gerry awkwardly turned his head back to his games. Jessica cleared the air, "Well, we're here now and you are about to eat a mush of vegetables and carbs. Things can only get better."

"I hope so. He's coming over to my house tonight."

"Really? That is so awesome. You'll have to tell me everything about it."

"I guess I'll have to."

Fifteen minutes passed, Martina brought us our food albeit with a nasty frown. Jessica smiled a big cheesy grin until the waitress walked away. I heard the bell on the front door ring. Someone had entered the café.

Jessica said, "Get a look at those guys that just walked in. They look like a group of rejects from _Doctor Who_."

"Doctor what?"

"No, Doctor Who," she paused when she noticed I was serious. "How do you not know what _Doctor Who_ is? How are we friends? HOW?"

She giggled, "I'll let you borrow my copies of the seasons—one day. So, um, those guys are kind of staring over here."

"I don't have a tele—nevermind."

I turned around to see what she was talking about and found myself only ten feet away from six of the weirdest men I'd ever seen. They all wore matching checkered long coats and pocketed vests, resembling something between a group of historians and a Sherlock Holmes fan club. Any group of men wearing identical outfits were strange to me if they weren't dressed up in sports uniforms, but it wasn't their clothes that bothered me. They were all wearing night vision goggles and staring directly at our booth. In a way, I kind of thought I recognized a few of them.

I imagined a few of them without their goggles. I knew exactly who they were and it took every ounce of my being not to leap out of my seat and mow the freaks down. I muttered the words out loud, "Dream Chasers? Why are they here?"

Jessica said, "You know those guys?"

Martina walked up to offer them a place, but insisted at once that they had to remove their goggles before they took another step. I was already in love.

Davison, the one leading the group in, told her, "We won't be long," and pushed her aside on his way to our place. He lifted his goggles up to his forehead, revealing a pair of grayish-blue eyes, "Hello, Alan. Can we talk alone?"

"Anything you have to say to Alan, you can say to us," said Jessica.

I sighed and lamely told Jessica and Gerry I'd see them the next day at school. They reluctantly agreed as they took what remained of their food to Martina to collect to-go boxes and pay the bill. Davison and two others, Desmond and Daemon, sat down in front of me while the rest of the dream chasers went up to the counter to get some food.

Davison grinned, "You haven't touched any of your food. It looks pretty tasty. Mind if we have a bite?"

"Depends. Do you know where my father is?"

"Boy, we have gained our appetites from hunting for your father. If we knew we would make sure he was at home with you and your mom. Now, french fry?"

I bent my head down and moved my fries around, holding my fingertips on them until the heat was too much to handle and handed a few fries to Davison. I said, "Mom wouldn't be happy I was talking to you. That's for sure."

"Why do you think we are not meeting you at your home?"

Abruptly, my eyes welled up, but I didn't let Davison and the others see. For a moment I felt like I knew without a doubt they spooked Dad into running away. They filled and nurtured him with his silly ideas and after that he was a goner.

Davison said, "Listen, we don't know where your dad is, but if we work together I bet we could find him."

"Is that really why you came in here to talk to me? I don't want your help."

Daemon, the youngest of the dream chasers at and not a day over twenty-two, interrupted us, "The real reason we are here is because we heard an evil, plotting man had come to collect followers."

Davison said, "What my blonde feathered friend means is—"

I said, "If he's referring to Darius, you guys are insane."

Daemon responded, "Insane? No. Practical? Very. He wasn't talking about him, but Darius is here?"

Martina came up to our table, but the three dream chasers waved her away. I heard her mumble, "I should have gotten a diploma," as she made her way back to the counter.

The one named Desmond, an ancient looking man who seldom opened his mouth to speak, grumbled.

Davison patted him on the back, "Calm down, Desmond. People are watching, and I assure you, we all agree with you."

Desmond grumbled again and then went back to twiddling his thumbs.

I said, "If you don't have my father with you, where do you think he is?"

Davison said, "We don't know. The night he disappeared, he drove up to our apartment in Dahlgreen to tell us he was starting the war to end all wars and a few comparable lunatic rants, but he warned of something greater. He said he was beginning to remember."

"Remember what?"

"Who knows?"

The remaining dream chasers circled around the booth, forcing most of the public's curiosity in our direction.

Davison continued, "Reese mentioned an old friend was on his way to Ashton and that same person would be attempting to harm his family."

"Did he say who?"

"No, but we are all certain that it is the writer. He has all of the signs even if we don't believe Reese was in his right mind. So, until your father returns we will be your eyes, ears, and anything else we are needed to be. The dream chasers are going to protect you and our first suggestion for your safety is to stay as far away as possible from Darius. I don't like him and nothing your father told us about him makes me feel any differently about it."

I said, "But you were not sure until a moment ago that Darius was the person you were looking for—"

Martina shoved one of the dream chasers aside and winked at me, "If you guys aren't going to order then you'll have to get out."

Davison exited the booth with his goons and bowed, "We'll be leaving, ma'am. Remember, Alan, you are safe in our hands."

The waitress stared into their eyes until they finally agreed to leave, "And, why are you wearing goggles?"

"Just blending in," Davison said as the dream chasers turned their backs and wondered out the door to the mass of Darius' fans.

I thanked Martina for her help. She told me, "It's one of the smallest towns in the world. We take care of our own. Need a box for your food?"

"I'm not hungry anymore."

She said, "Suit yourself. Your friends already paid unless you'd like to leave a tip," and cleared my plate from the table. I luckily had a five dollar bill in my pocket.

I gave it about ten minutes to make sure they cleared out and left the café. I could see the dream idiots at the back of the line that had begun to move back into the book store. My bike remained safe in the alleyway. I ran across the street, unhooked it from its chains and rode home as fast as my pedals would allow it.

# CHAPTER FOUR

Mom was furious when I got home. Revealing the evening's plan lead to shouting that went on for a good half hour, bouncing around the walls and the three empty wine bottles on the piano top. She repeated the phrase, "You're dead meat," like a new personal motto, and I had not even gotten a chance to mention my meeting with the dream chasers.

I knew not to get her any angrier in her present state, so I took a seat next to Peaches on the couch.

Instead of the pleasant calm before the storm I had hoped for, Mom followed me, saying, "The neighbor kid, Mary Margaret, came home with an interesting advertisement today. She was even nice enough to let me keep a copy once I asked her about it."

She ripped the messenger bag off of my back by the straps and began to fish around inside until she pulled out one of my fliers, "Oh, interesting. They must have been passing these around. How else could _you_ have gotten one?"

I wisely kept my head down. Peaches moaned along with me, hoping Mom would drop her argument, but that only made it worse.

She ran her hands through her hair, saying, "You know, I tried hard enough to get your father to come down to my level, but now you've let the whole town know what I've known all along: his mind is on another planet. Great, I have another Quinn in my life who can't leave well enough alone. Did you have anything else you wanted to tell me?"

After unflinching my eyes long enough to announce the news of Darius' arrival, she put me on living room cleaning duty while she whipped up something for dinner, throwing in expletives and grunts for good measure.

Despite the rift between Mom and me, I could not help but think about Darius' plans to possibly help us find my father. He could have also been full of crock like the dream chasers so desperately wanted me to believe. I never ruled out the same possibility for my father's dream tales, so I wasn't going to get my hopes up for a stranger. Everything was just a little too overwhelming to process.

A few hours passed, bringing night time along with it. I pretended to fluff the couch pillows for the hundredth time, made sure Peaches was outside in the back yard and out of biting distance, and resumed a place by the door to keep Mom from scaring Darius away from the get go. She was certainly capable of doing some damage.

Five minutes after seven, the jingle of the doorbell went off. When I opened the door, the sight was enough to bring the entire science world to a screaching halt.

I knew some people could look different when they had altered their clothes or the lighting had dimmed, but Darius might as well have aged sixty years since we had last spoken.

Nevermind that his cheeks were swollen inward, barely leaving room for his tongue to move, but a foot of height had disappeared, making him shorter than me. If it weren't for the man in front of me wearing the same suit, or the same winning smile, I wouldn't have known they were the same person. I considered that I may not have been paying full attention to him at the store.

I said, "Should I get you a cane?"

I checked for Mom who, thankfully, was too busy to notice our guest had arrived. With the coast clear, I said to Darius, "What happened to you?"

Darius kept his volume low, "There is no time. Can I come in, little Quinn?"

He sidestepped me, limping and gripping tightly to a big black box. Each step harder than the last, his legs were literally withering away under his own weight.

"What's in the box?"

"All in good time. Do you have a card table?" He spotted the dining room table at the back of the house. The nerves pouring out with his voice, he said, "Perfect. This will _have_ to work."

I tried to gently grab his shoulders to slow down the clash of the titans, a little afraid I'd have broken his bones if I slipped. One slight mistake could crumble the new Darius into dust. What was I saying to myself? People just did not age like that.

But, just as the tips of my fingers could grace the fabric of his suit, his body shot forward to the table with the speed of a rocket. I didn't have time to react. Even Peaches, who had a habit of barking at strangers, stared at our house guest from the back door with a vacant expression. My perception of reality was splitting at the seams.

I kept my voice low so as not to call attention to Mom who had broken into song in between yelling at me to keep cleaning. I said, "Darius, can we save the experiment for after dinner? We might get lucky and the wine will wear off—"

He interupted me, "No, no. This is important. Contrary to your belief, Alan Quinn, she may need all the wine she can get for this one."

Darius sat the box down on the table and lifted the lid to empty the contents: a large red stone. His eyes lit up. "Gorgeous."

The dimmed lights flipped on to their maximum brightness. The singing had stopped and the gloves had come off, or should I say oven mitts? Mom had entered the ring.

They both held still in a time lock; Darius at the left end of the table and Mom holding a plate of freshly baked bread on the right.

"Maggie! How are you?"

"You aren't looking very—"

"Well?"

"Something like that."

"I have had better days. I hope you enjoyed the piano."

Darius placed himself in front of the stone. He said, "I have come to help you find Reese."

"Really? And, how do you plan to do that exactly?"

"Well, I already have a theory about where he may be or at least where he is going. The first part of the search is proving that _place_ exists."

The plate dropped from her grip, throwing bread on to the wooden floor. I knew things were about to hit the fan. The inevitable train wreck could have been prevented if I had just minded my own business several hours before.

"What is all of this?" she said. Her hospitality had reached its end.

Darius continued, ignoring Mom at the brink of her rampage, "Reese mentioned something about a faceless man coming down from the heavens. 'The man will be shrouded in darkness,' he said. He may even be missing limbs."

He said, "He will not start off that way. No. It will be hard to predict. He will stop at nothing until he has captured Alan and brought him back to the _homeland_. Reese called it _Draio_. Our nearing acquaintance probably has another name for it."

It strangely sounded rehearsed. I jumped up from my hiding place on the couch and said, "He is coming for _who?_ "

Mom clacked her heals against the floor until she was safely between me and the miraculous aging man. She said, "Alan, you're grounded. Now, go upstairs."

"Don't I have a say in the prevention of my future kidnapping?"

They both shouted, "No."

"Just checking."

Darius made sure the stone lay centered on the table, "As I was saying, this man is nothing more than a solid black shape, a walking black hole sucking in any poor soul who will adhere to his paranoid rants. Reese called him a—"

"Silhouette," I added. "Dad called the shadow people on Draio _Silhouettes_. He said they were being enslaved."

Mom said, "I thought I told you to go to your room, Alan."

"That he did." He spoke as if Mom had left the room. "When your father and I would discuss the creatures in his world, we came to the conclusion not all of those things could be counting on the welfare of their species. They do have a little bit of human in them after all."

Talking about Draio filled me with the parts about my Dad I loved and missed: his story telling. I said, "What is the stone for?"

"I am glad you asked."

Mom stomped over to the table and swept her arm across, knocking everything, including the stone, to the ground. She shouted, "I do not know what bull you've been feeding my son, but you can leave this house immediately."

Darius pleaded, "But, I am doing this to save your family. Hopefully, you will be able to see that."

Mom's eyes watered, "I appreciate everything you've done for my family over the years but the last man who believed in all of that garbage, abandoned his only son for a new life."

"Maggie, I implore you to listen. You are making a mistake."

Mom said, "Leave, Darius," and pushed the crippling man towards the front door as fast as she could without tumbling him over. I was not sure she would have cared if she had.

I yelled, "Stop, can't you see he is in pain?" until my vocal chords felt like they were going to fall out from the strain. It didn't help. Mom had already forced Darius halfway out the door.

She said, "If you happen to run into my idiot of a husband, be sure to ask him if all of this was worth it. I'll be sure to have divorce papers waiting for him when he returns." She slammed the door closed, leaving Darius in the cold.

The words swung through the air and pierced right through my chest. Mom spun around, holding her hands to her mouth, trying to erase what I could only hope she didn't mean. She opened her mouth to apologize but the beeping of the smoke alarm went off, reminding her something lay burning in the oven.

"Please, stay right there. Don't move," she said. "We'll talk about this."

She truly had given up. I had to clear my head. Opting to grab Peaches leash, I exited out the back door and walked into the night.

Peaches couldn't have been a better choice for getting my mind off of things. Her little muscles pulled and fought till it felt like my arms were going to fall off and land in a pile in the backyard. No matter, It would have taken an earthquake to get the vision out of my head of how quickly Darius went from mega-god to decrepit old man in the time it took most people to take a small nap.

I opened our gate. Peaches' powerful scent and strength guided us through to Hatter Circle's main road. Only a handful of houses made up the neighborhood but they all were either empty at that hour or a few of my neighbors had a nasty habit of keeping their lights down to spy on the town's going ons. I would have joined in too if I'd known about the night's excitements and was not on the front lines of the mystery.

The one thing that stuck out to me? Darius, a walking bag of bones, must have picked himself up and drifted away because there were no signs of him to be found. Dad's stories about the magical world of Draio sounded too fantastical to be real, but I was beginning to reconsider. Darius did not look ill, but cursed.

My reflection on the subject was interrupted by the yanking and pulling of a frazzled Peaches at the end of her leash, I said, "What is it, girl?"

The answer came when a street light flickered in the far distance, revealing Darius' decrepit frame walking into the darkness and thick autumn fog. My curiosity was too great. I had to talk to Darius about the stone, so I let Peaches drag me all the way to the park at the end of the street where Darius was—still nowhere to be found.

I heard a voice but I couldn't make out the direction. Almost unrecognizable, a male's voice said, "Everything worked like a charm. Now, I have not been as faithful to you in the past as you would prefer, but I do not see why we can not both represent your greatness on the homeland. We could be kings together."

"Darius? Is that you?" I called out.

The voice rose a few octaves, fear clawing at every word, "Please? I have done what you have asked. I do not think my heart can last another age cycle. Give me immunity from this horror!"

Peaches' barking turned to moaning at the sky. I followed the direction of her snout until my eyes laid upon a star unlike any other. It twinkled neon blue, but could have been an airplane or a satellite. This particular star set its path for me and fast, taking shape as a blue orb as it got closer to the ground.

"It has begun, Alan," Darius said, walking out from the shade of the nearby tree. A bone snapped in his right leg, bringing him to his knees. The moon mixed with the light from the blue orb illuminated his skin wrapped so tightly that his bones were beginning to break through.

He could barely get his words out through the pain, "Trust none of your allegiances and only your dreams. Remember, this will always be bigger than you, but never doubt your importance."

Weakly, he looked up to the sky and spread his arms, saying, "Please, be merciful," and his body popped into a cloud of dust.

I dropped the leash, running full sprint towards the spot where Darius' body once laid. I said, "Darius? DARIUS? You have to help me find my father. You have to!"

He was gone. He died right in front of me. The cold sting of hopelessness splashed over every inch of my being. Out of options, I turned to slapping myself in the face, urging my body to wake up from this terrible nightmare.

There was nothing left of him and no one left in the park but me and my dog. Nothing until I heard a high pitched vibrating hum like a tiny creature with a squeaky voice was giggling behind me.

With its ultraviolet glow, I had to squint my eyes just to look at it. The sapphire blue orb hovered a few feet above Peaches' head. Barely larger than a softball, it broadcasted enough light over the park to make me forget daylight still happened to be hours and hours away. Peaches remained locked in place, mesmerized and unharmed, while I checked over my shoulder to see if I was the only one witnessing the phenomenon. It was still only me.

With a hand above my eyes, I took a shot in the dark and tried to communicate with it. I was still too dazed from watching Darius--disentegrate. I said, "You there, could you tone it down a bit? If I am going to be dreaming, I rather not wake up blind."

The orb sucked in the light, which in turn expanded it to the size of a classroom globe. It continued to giggle but this time with a lower tone.

I said, "Are you responsible for killing Darius?"

It stopped giggling and spun a little bit to its left and again to its right, making a whistling noise I understood to be "No."

"Do you plan to kill me?"

Another "No."

I lowered my hand and inched closer to the orb, eventually standing between the shiny being and the dog statue Peaches had become. Nothing had the power to get Peaches to stand still, especially shiny lights.

It giggled again.

"What do you want? Why are you here?" I pleaded.

The words sounded so cliché but I couldn't concentrate hard enough to manage anything else. I reached out to touch it, jumping back a few times in case I would have to run at a moment's notice. Positive it was not going to attack me, I placed my hand on its surface.

What I found? An inky ooze like a jar of old, watery jelly that had liquefied under a noon day sun. It swallowed my hand but instead of the bones, or whatever I exactly expected to find when my hand went in, I found nothing. My hand safely made it to the other side unscathed.

And then, the orb shot off towards the woods quicker than a leopard hunting a gazelle.

Not too long after, Peaches followed at the same speed, throwing dirt up in the air. I lost her in the forest on the other side of the park's large pond.

I called out, "Peaches!"

My legs weren't quick enough but I took off with whatever speed I could muster until I stopped at the forest's edge. I could still hear the evil laugh of the blue orb and Peaches' puppy yelps between the crunch of her paws against crinkled leaves and twigs. The forest was in solid darkness. The sounds were getting fainter and fainter. Not being one to walk aimlessly into dark places, I gave it a second or two, hoping Peaches would give up on her hunt, allowing us to search again under daylight's safety.

All of those hopes diminished when an awful shriek ripped through the air, following the reappearance of the orb by my side. It blinked red like its battery power was depleting.

I said, "Where's the dog?"

Peaches' yelps morphed into screams. I forced my hand through the goo of the orb, using it as a guiding light. Oddly, it didn't fly away or attempt to put up a fight as I ran in the direction of my dog.

But no matter the amount of light it provided, I still managed to trip over every branch that found its way in my path. Each step was succeeded by a chorus of ouches that blended in with the chirps of crickets and hoots of owls, but I had to trudge through it. I had to find my friend.

An hour passed. Daylight remained a long lost dream. The blue mass I had willfully chosen to guide me dimmed. It didn't help the landscape appeared to be repeating itself. The trees shaking against the wind above taunted me like a group of laughing jesters.

I gave panic another chance.

"Peaches?" Nothing. "Peaches?" Still nothing. "Anybody?"

The sphere fell free from my grip. It slapped against the ground like a deflated volleyball.

"Maybe it was just my imagination," I said to myself.

I had become just as, if not more, delusional than my own father. The thought was nearly enough to convince me there wasn't a crescendo of deep whispers attacking my ears, chanting, "The king will fall. The Silhouettes will rise."

Their volume rose up and overpowered the rest of the night sounds. It was so loud that I was forced to jam my fingers into my ears and curl up in a ball, but it only became louder, harsher. Hands tugged on my shirt, forcing my focus upon my would be attackers, but there was no one there. I pulled away as hard as I could, making virtually no progress until the hands released me, allowing me to fall on my butt.

"Who is out there?"

All at once the whispers stopped. In their place was a man's voice with a hint of a British accent. He repeated the same phrase, "The king must fall. The Silhouettes will rise. Oh, wait, do not eat that. Please?"

A crunching noise echoed through the woods and the voice vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

Somewhere in the background, I heard the exhausted panting of my golden lab. While her hot breathe was enough to make my nostrils flare up, I was more than grateful to see Peaches. She licked my face and everything got a little brighter—I mean lot brighter.

"Peaches?"

I pushed her back to study her mouth which was glowing bright blue.

Good news? She got a hold of the sphere and made the whispers go away. Bad news? She ate it.

# CHAPTER FIVE

I tried everything short of shoving my entire arm down her throat to get Peaches to puke up the blue gunk. I had to take short breaks to wipe my hands against my jeans as they were getting too slippery, but all that did was make my pants glow.

Seconds after she engulfed the sphere, her entire body had taken on the same neon glow, emphasizing the shadows of the looming trees. It was kind of cool, but I would personally have liked one less thing to explain to Mom if I ever made it home. I imagined Peaches would make a great hallway lamp.

One thing was for sure: Peaches had gotten faster. She would inch in closer to me to give me kisses or just to be annoying. I'd reach for her and her body would react by blasting to the other end of the forest. She'd come back, rinse, and repeat. It reminded me of the surge Darius made in my house only ten times the speed.

After the fifth time I attempted to get her to sit still and spit the substance out, I gave up to focus on finding my way back home. She didn't look like she was trying to get rid of me.

As far as I could tell, the forest was worse than a CD on skip, repeating itself over and over. My legs had switched to autopilot from the strain of the night's events, wobbling over the tiny rocks and piles of pine straw that covered the forest's ground floor. With no house lights to go by, or active highways, I did not know where to turn.

I knew through traffic was a lot to ask of Ashton during the day time, much less at night when I needed it most to get home. But, just as I thought all was lost, a light bulb popped up in front of me, or should I say a dog bulb? I mustered up what was left of my strength and followed Peaches, hoping her nose would lead us to safety.

She definitely caught a scent. It led us straight to the little drops of slime from when the sphere fell from my grip. Whether or not she was leading me in the right direction was not clear. Due to all the chaos that brought me to that spot, it definitely beat the crap out of waiting for my imagination to scare me to death.

A thing about Peaches, she had an attention deficit when it came to sticking to a plan. We were who knows how far away from home, and she thought she had to be Queen of the forest, chasing off the squirrels and other poor animals wishing to get a look at the glowing spectacle. I wanted a way home. My loyal companion wanted to mark every tree, making the whole area an _Avatar_ set piece. I would have been impressed if I were not so terrified out of my wits.

"Maybe this is what it feels like to be Dad," I thought out loud. "Scary whispers. Bodiless hands reaching and pulling. I would have run away too."

Thinking about him put me in one of those, "Why couldn't he have been boring?" moods. A lot of people would kill to see the world—or is it worlds? I would love to make it easier for those people with a fair trade.

I snapped out of it when Peaches switched back to puppy statue mode. She chose a spot in front of an evergreen with a wide trunk.

Something moved on the tree causing me to jump. I said, "Who's there?"

No one responded. If someone was trying to attack me, I was not sure why they would have said anything at all.

An object appeared on the evergreen. It was either another hallucination or Peaches' shadow was morphing from one that belonged to a dog to a tall man with long hair and very little else. Only, instead of a shadow, it was more like solid mass similar to a black hole.

I told Peaches to move to see if the shadow would move with her. She titled her head while the shadow mimicked the movement in perfect time.

I said, "Sit," and Peaches groaned, but did as she was told. The shadow followed, getting lower and lower until it was gone only to return once Peaches got back to her feet.

The way the shadow man appeared almost matched the exact description with the stories Dad told of the Silhouettes: men trapped in darkness.

Dad said little sparks shot out from their finger tips when they tried to pull him into Draio, preparing to cast magic at the first opportunity. Their eyes, although non-existent, would stare into his soul. That part of the story always sent creepy crawlies up my spine. Seeing one up close made the crawlies bite.

Since the dream showed no signs of slowing, I figured I might as well try to talk to it. I said, "What's your name?"

The Silhouette pointed at his mouth and shook his head.

"You can't talk? But, I heard a voice. That wasn't you? Do you know who I am?"

I got a nod and then his hands began moving in circles around themselves, getting faster and faster. Peaches had gotten up on her hind legs. Her front paws matched the speed, but she broke in a wild fit. She used her nose to push a bunch of rocks on the ground, shaping them together to form letters. My eyes spun with dizziness, watching her move so fast she could have taken off for the air in flight. The Silhouette never moved away from the tree. It was almost like it was getting stronger.

Once finished, Peaches barked in excitement like a little kid proud of their science fair project and resumed sitting in place. When I read the finished product, my heart froze into a swollen lump:

ALAN

No amount of rubbing could remove the sight from my eyes. I thought for a second it could be just a dramatic coincidence, but the letters were so definite they glowed through the darkness. I kicked the rocks and twigs away.

The whispers returned, "THE SILHOUETTES HAVE BEEN REPRESSED FOR TOO LONG."

A patch of weeds stretched out and wrapped around my feet, locking them in to place. I'd never been so shaken in my lifetime, so alone. I wasn't the only scaredy cat. Peaches broke out of her trance and hid behind the closest tree, whimpering her little heart out.

Then, the whimpering stopped like her voice had been sucked into the night.

The whispers morphed into one single haunting voice that originated from the tree—the Silhouette's. He said, "There is no need to be afraid, Alan."

He had begun moving independently of Peaches. Gaining strength, he said, "I come from a land afar and a land up high. My abilities are only eclipsed by my excellent turn of phrase and if you open your mind, they could be your abilities too." He sounded like a traveling salesmen.

The weeds pulled a little tighter, pricking thorns into my calves. I said, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I am the creature this world owes its debts and the puppet master for all of your wildest dreams. You are either with me or against me, but if you wish to find your father I would prefer you choose the former."

The voice rotated behind me. The Silhouette remained stationary on the tree. Peaches hobbled over from my left side to nibble my legs free from their captivity. A vine sprouted up and hit her on the nose, sending her right back into a panic.

The Silhouette said, "Your father is about to make a mistake big enough for twenty lifetimes and I am risking my permadeath to stop him."

My own head voices were screaming bloody murder for me to give in to the pain, break free and run. They begged me to ignore the delusion of the man on the tree spouting off lies about my father. The harder I tried, the harder it was to get my feet to move. My heart rate was slowing. I felt like I was dying.

The Silhouette's voice raised a few octaves until it matched the British voice I had heard earlier, "You can not run from this, Alan. One of these days this Earth is going to end, and if we are not careful it will be by Reese Quinn's hand."

I tried to shut my eyes, but they had been forced open against my will, "You are not here. You are not talking."

He said, "Well, that is mighty rude of you."

I said, "If any of this is true, what could a thirteen-year-old possibly do about it? I'm just a kid."

The ground rumbled as the Silhouette stretched five times its size up the tree, "You think I risked my very existence by coming here just to show up without a plan? No, no, I think you have absolutely no idea what is at stake."

His arms slammed down by his side, generating a tidal wave of leaves at my body, which knocked me free from my prickly shackles. With the window of opportunity opening fifty miles wide, I ran after Peaches who was hiding unsuccessfully behind a nearby bush and scooped her up. The weight of my nervous dog nearly made me fall over, but I bent my knees to stay upright. Running, I took the trail of the neon slime, hoping it would lead me home.

The Silhouette yelled after me, "Go on, Alan Quinn. Go ahead and run. You are only prolonging the inevitable end of your world."

Tired of the voice, I cried out until my voice was so loud I could barely hear anything the Silhouette was saying. Countless numbers of trees passed in my wake. I wasn't going to allow him to catch up.

Taking the eventual silence as a good sign, I felt sure that the Silhouette was far behind me. I retired from the Peaches taxi service and let her guide me the rest of the way home.

Peaches' tongue fell to the side of her mouth. I said, "We are almost there, Peaches. Don't give up. Lead us home."

To my horror, Peaches fell over on the ground. Her eyes closed. I got on my knees and nudged her with my fingers. We'd only known each other for a little while but that was all it took for me to get attached.

"Wake up," I said. "Please?"

With all of the terror inflicted on me, the last thing I wished for was something to happen to Peaches. She was the innocent victim in all of that. It wasn't her fault I chose her as my escape to get away from my house.

Shaking, I leaned down and held on to her so tight that I thought I would never let her go. The glow had dissappeared and with that—her life.

Her eyes shot open and it looked like she was smiling. I could add that to her list of new talents. I was so happy to see her awake I could have kissed her. She beat me to it by wetting my face with some more of her tonguey kisses.

I said, "Lead us home, girl." I wiped the bit of tears leaking from my eyes and we were back on course.

The next sight was the sparkly shine of the Ashton lake. Finally, a familiar location.

As we made it to my front lawn I noticed that beyond the natural ugliness of the house it sat mostly undisturbed. There were no freaky whispers or Silhouettes, nothing but home sweet home.

Peaches moaned, inferring we should head inside, but I was not so sure yet. Along with all of the current events, I was no longer certain what I might find when I opened the door. My feelings were not warmed when I saw someone wandering around the living room slowly like a zombie when I looked through the curtains.

Peaches, impatient, darted out of my grip and went up to scratch the mess out of the door. Stopping her was hopeless. I dodged the screen door as it fell off the porch, barely dodging a hinge to the face.

The person in the living room slouched their way toward the door, dragging one foot behind the other. It was Mom but she wasn't exactly close to the way I had left her. Her hair was matted against the sides of her face. Mascara had drizzled down her eyes from crying, but the goofy expression she wore made me feel like they were tears from laughing.

_Thunk!_ She walked into the door and fell on her butt. Panicking, I burst through the door.

I said, "Mom? Are you ok?" as I helped her up.

She jerked her hand from mine, "Raisins."

"What?"

She placed her hand over her mouth, "Oh, I didn't mean to offend. Raisins used to be grapes. Are you a grape? It is really hard to tell with you people these days."

She laughed like she had performed the funniest joke she'd heard in years. I didn't get it. My first instinct was to look around for more empty wine bottles but there were none to be found. Something else had done that to her.

The mesmerizing world wonder that was my glowing dog ceased her cackling. The effects of the orb had returned. She said, "I bet doggy is full of _glowing_ raisins," and leapt on to Peaches back. She said, "Ride, doggy, ride."

I pulled Mom away from Peaches and helped her to the couch. She fought out of my grip again and ran to pick up random picture frames, which she promptly threw around the room. Upon each smash into the wall, she let out a big "Woo Hoo." Mom didn't even seem to care I'd been gone for so long.

She said, "There's something funny about that stone over there. One second, it is red like a clown's nose and the next, it is telling knock knock jokes. What have I told you about knock knock jokes?"

"I don't even—"

"Knock Knock."

"Mom, not now."

I looked over at the stone Darius had left behind before he—well I did not want to think about what happened to him. Nothing stood out about the stone except that it was now sitting on the center of the table when I had distinctly remembered Mom knocking it to the ground earlier.

"What's funny about it?" I said as I took a seat on the ground.

Mom wrapped her arms around Peaches and pulled her in close, saying, "I was humming a bar from _Fiddler on a Roof_ and the next minute the rock is glowing bright red like my own little piece of the sun. Did I say that already? I am so sleepy."

She hopped back to her feet and wobbled to the dining room table. She lifted the stone and pulled it in close, protecting it like it was a new born child, "Alan, I found him."

"Found who?"

"Your father." She did a pirouette and invited me to join in. "He's returned to us as a stone to apologize. For now on, we move him and not the other way around."

My head aching, I said, "What are you talking about?"

She said, "See this?" and threw the stone with all of her might into the wall. As it landed, she walked over to pick it back up and placed it on the table. "Moved."

She said, "Isn't it obvious? Your father has been planning this all along. It's all for you and me."

"I'm not sure I understand. What makes you think it was Dad?"

"It had no emotion like most rocks."

I walked over to pick it up and provide an examination but Peaches rushed in behind me, knocking the large table and stone onto the floor. I thought I heard a man's voice speak. The voice said, "Excuse me, pardon me."

As happy as a child, Mom rushed behind me, picked up the table and knocked it over again. I was too distracted by her cheering that I didn't notice the dog making a hacking noise over the mess.

Peaches bounced past me on her way to her food bowl in the kitchen. I noticed she was no longer glowing bright blue. I had to admit I was a little disappointed. I thought, "Do you know how much money we could save on lightbulbs?"

In seconds, Mom blacked out and hit the floor. I turned around to help her up, but there was a huge neon pile of doggy puke covering the stone a few inches from her head. The stone itself sparkled bright red and swirled in with the blue mess to form this intergalactic frisbee that I could only describe as a reject from a Trix cereal commercial.

A pile of light, it floated like a flying saucer until it popped into the solid darkness of the Silhouette, which appeared like a two dimensional cardboard cutout of a man.

I said, "This cannot be happening right now."

He said, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Andrew Lathon and I believe you are in grave danger."

My first instinct was to yell until my lungs would fall out. Yet somehow, I didn't think it would make Andrew Lathon disappear.

His body began to take form, shifting from a blob with a hole for a mouth into a man standing at about six feet tall. When he moved, the silhouette of a long coat moved with him. No matter how animated the Silhouette became, it looked more like there was a puzzle piece missing than it looked like another man with me in the room.

I said, "I demand that you leave this house at once. If you so much as look like you are going to harm my mother—"

He replied, "No, it might be key for you to work on your listening skills. As I said in the forest, I too would love to help you search for your father. Now, let us begin."

# CHAPTER SIX

Of all things, I did not need something like Andrew Lathon assisting me with the search for my Dad. I was still not wholey convinced that he actually existed, but I could not get him to disappear no matter what I tried. "If he is real, he may be dangerous," I said to myself. This would have been the perfect oppurtunity for Dad not to have run out on us.

I backed away from the talking figment of my imagination to check on Mom whose eyes had rolled into the back of her head. I shook her gently at first with a chorus of _Mom!_ and _Oh, my God, my imagination is talking_ , but she laid still, projecting enthusiasm better suited for a turnip.

Andrew said, "She is alive, barely."

I could hardly allow myself to have a conversation with him, much less believe a word he said. I sighed with relief when I felt for Mom's pulse on her neck and found it without struggle.

I said, "What did you do to her?"

Andrew walked over and hunched over my mother. His body was paper thin like a cardboard cutout. He said, "Me? What did _you_ do to _her_? She was perfectly fine until _you_ got home."

I held on to Mom a little tighter, trying my best to pretend the Silhouette wasn't there. I have to say it was difficult when he wouldn't quit talking. If Mom were a little more conscious, I could have gotten her to prove I was just losing my mind. I gave shaking her awake another chance.

Andrew placed a hand on her shoulder, slowly expanding into 3-D. He said, "You can shake her all you want. All you are doing is providing her with an unpleasant backache to deal with once she reawakes from her untimely stupor, but go ahead and try it your way. I find it quite entertaining."

In an attempt to remain mature about the situation, I lifted one of Mom's house shoes off the floor and tossed it at Andrew's body. To my astonishment, the shoe didn't pass through his body but _in_ to his body. I said, "You're nothing like them."

"Nothing like who?"

"The creatures my dad talked about."

When I said the word "creatures" I could feel the tension of an awkward silence pass over the room. Andrew stood up and backed away from my mother. I couldn't handle it. I pulled Mom on to the couch and brushed the hair out of her face.

I said, "Did I hurt your feelings, Andrew?"

"You will come to find through age and experience that no man held in years of captivity prefers to escape only to find he is not accepted anywhere he goes."

My heart was contented to hear my mother snoring. She mumbled to herself about grapes and turned over on her side. I turned my attention to Andrew who had taken on a hazy black form. He slowly began learning how to use his fingers—wiggling them at first before snapping his finger and thumb together simultaneously making a fire appear in the fire place.

He said, "I missed this place so much."

I said, "What place?"

"Earth."

"Let's start with basic stuff," I said, "How do you get around?"

"How do you mean?"

"You were on the trees and now you're in my house."

He said, "I think that is a personal question, do you not?"

When I refused to budge, he pointed at Peaches who had passed out in the corner of the room from all of the excitement, "If you must know, your furry companion over there puked me on to a memory stone. The Silhouettes do not have the same reactions to it as humans do. Example A: your mother."

"The rock Darius brought in the house?"

"Precisely. The stone tapped into the memories of your mother when you left the house. Add in the stress of living without the man she loves and trying to manage a wayward son who talks to his imaginary friends and that stone very well could have wiped her mind clean. But, being Maggie Quinn has its perks."

I had to sit down. Memory stones? Silhouettes? It was enough to make me want to scratch my eyes out. I took a seat at the kitchen table and twiddled my thumbs. "I am going insane. Aren't I?"

Andrew laughed, "I would amount it closer to waking up, but every kid has their own interpretation." His hands, having formed into a completely solid mass, lifted a picture frame off of the mantle. "I never doubted Reese would adapt to ground floor life but I did not know it would pan out so well."

"Why do you keep referring to my parents like you've known them forever?"

"Considering we are going to be spending quite a bit of time together, I say we save all of the big questions for when the answers are most useful."

A map that felt like a ten pound sheet of metal in my arms appeared out of thin air. Glowing under the kitchen light, I noticed it didn't contain a map of the United States or any of the other countries in the world. In fact, I didn't recognize any of the locations on the map. Eight tiny pictures of houses were in the middle in parallel rows of four. Each house looked like minature cabins. Putting that image into perspective made me think of a ghost town in the middle of cowboy film set.

I said, "What is this? What am I supposed to do with this?" I dropped it, "Andrew?"

I caught him rolling around on the floor with Peaches who had wakened from her brief nap. He said, "You humans really ought to learn a thing or two from your pets about having fun."

"Andrew, can you please just answer one question for me?"

Andrew got up on all fours to challenge Peaches who took a run for him. She passed through him and appeared on the other side. The Silhouette had turned into vapor in the blink of an eye only to reassemble himself. Peaches, overcome with shock, ran behind my chair and ducked down, whimpering. Andrew said, "Poor girl would not last a second in the harsh landscape of Draio."

I said, "Harsh landscape? Hardly sounds like the world my Dad talked about."

Andrew hopped up, "Well, you can use the map as an example. Hey, do not roll your eyes at me. I heard you the first time you asked." He pointed at the first house from the bottom left, "This right here is an observation deck. It was one of the most important buildings in the old world. It was left mostly untouched during the Great War."

"The Great War?"

"Better than the Not So Great War. Did your Dad never tell you?"

"I haven't spoken to him in a long time. But, I heard his stories about the cages."

Andrew bounced back like I'd pricked his finger, " I would appreciate if you could refrain from bringing those up into our little chats. Anyways, when the Second Lifes made up the majority of the population in Draio, the Silhouettes were demoted to house slaves. Though, I happened to be fortunate enough to be granted a life in politics. I was chief correspondent for the Second Life high council."

He began to strut around the living room, remembering and radiating with the happiness of a better time.

I said, "You have a nasty habit of straying away from the subject."

He said, "Could not have said it better myself. Now, where was I? YES. The Great War and the explodey sadness of doom. You can imagine the Silhouettes who had populated Draio for so long did not adapt well to second class citizenry. It started with petty pranks and vandalism but it ended with genocide. The Silhouettes who survived the battles were—were—"

I stepped away from the map, "It doesn't sound like such a great place. I am sorry that happened to you. I am sorry—"

"Apologies are not necessary. I only require that we will be the beginning of the end of that tragedy."

My head expanded with all of the new information. I thought of Darius' pictures detailing the dragons and how terrifying they would appear during a war, spraying men, women, and children with their flames. To think all of that was going on above my head while I was busy complaining about my silly excuse for a childhood made me feel like a speck of dirt.

Andrew walked over and grabbed a hold of my arm.

I said, "Where are we going?"

"To explore. Your Mom needs rest and I need to get my mind off all of these sadly madly thoughts and explore the world."

I slapped away his hand, "There is a slight flaw in that plan. I have school tomorrow."

He danced around, "School? SCHOOL? You just heard there are other worlds out there filled with magic worth saving and you would prefer to let yourself veg away in social studies?"

Numbness settling in all over my body, I got up and started off for my room, "I think I have discovered enough for one evening. I am going to bed."

Relieved to find he had no intentions of following me, I did a light jog up the stairs and jumped chest first on to my bed. Sleep had never felt so refreshing. Then my dreams set in.

Most people can't wait to dream once they've gone to bed. Dreams stood as a chance to break away from the normal. I would've been satisfied with normal since my dream world looked like someone suffering from dehydration's worst nightmare. The ground was covered for miles upon miles with dark red sand. The sky above crackled with a roaring blaze. Excuse my lack of subtlety when I say it was actually on fire.

There were a few buildings a mile ahead of me but they looked so run down that I couldn't begin to believe someone wanted to live in them, much less study in them. They were in postions matching the dots located on that strange map that had appeared in my living room.

A man appeared at the front of the town. He wore dark blue robes with a hood concealing his face. I could hear him talking like he was right next to me, "Do you like what you see?" It had a man's voice but it sounded hoarse like it had been yelling for the past twenty years. "After all, Quinn, this is your fault."

I had to shake my earlobe to see if I heard him correctly. I said, "My fault? What is this place?"

"Do not be so naïve, Earth dweller. You knew what this place was the minute you arrived. This is what you have been waiting for, is it not?"

I blinked once. In the time it took me to shut my eyes and reopen them, the robed man had jumped forward and landed in front of me. The only portion of his face I could see was the bottom half of his mouth and it was covered in the worst kind of scars and wrinkles.

He said, "Alan, this is Draio. Behold its glory."

I said, "It is kind of empty."

The heat radiating down from above made my skin begin to simmer. The worst part was I could feel it. You are not supposed to feel anything during a dream. That would only happen if it was—

I said, "Is this really it?"

The robed man stood very still. "I have brought you here this once and only this once. I mean to give you a message."

I said, "I'm listening."

His arm shot up and his hand took a hold of my left shoulder. His grip was too powerful to escape from. He said, "To shut it. You will return to your waking reality and tell that fool of a traitor to take any thoughts of returning to Draio out of his head. And you, if I ever see your mug on the main level again, I will handle your permadeath myself."

Breathing became difficult. I could feel a bruise forming on the spot where the man was grabbing me. It was all too real to be a dream. I said, "Whose the traitor? Andrew? I have only just met him."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. A puff of smoke streamed out of his ancient lips, covering the page. Gold letters formed on the page but the man crumpled it up before I could see what it said. He stuffed it in my jeans pocket, "Open it when the time feels right. Not a second sooner, understand?"

I slapped his arm away, "I'm sorry. What is it that I am supposed to be understanding?"

"Right now?" he said. "Right now you are supposed to be waking up. You have a long journey ahead of you. Until we meet again, Alan Quinn."

The robed man placed his other hand on my adjacent shoulder, lifted me up over his head and threw me up into space. I struggled to break free but it was no use. I had already been thrown towards my fiery doom.

Usually, if I have only been asleep for a few hours, I feel slightly refreshed. My venture into deep sleep only felt like it lasted ten minutes, but my body might as well have been dumped in a bag and beaten with sticks for how awful I felt.

And, like a cherry on top of the sundae, the Kansas sun was searing into my eyelids. It was time to get ready for school and unless my clock was wrong I only had twenty minutes before the bus would arrive. I quickly leapt from my bed and barely dodged Peaches who had made a bed for herself with my dirty laundry. I wrestled a passably clean _Spider-Man_ t-shirt out from under her lazy body and grabbed a pair of jeans out of my dresser drawer. Peaches could not have been less bothered.

I opened up my door and rushed downstairs, completely free of the excitement from yesterday. I thought, "Maybe it was all just a big dream, right?" All of the evidence pointed in that direction when I heard an egg beater whizzing to prepare my morning breakfast.

The problem was Mom wasn't known for her cooking abilities. I typically started my school day with a bowl of cereal.

"Mom?" I called out to no answer. "Mom?"

I ran down the stairs, hoping my mom had recovered from her episodes to make me a warm meal. On my way into the kitchen, it peaked my curiosity that the map and stone were absent. Another victory. I said, "Mom, I don't know what the occasion is but I like the new you—"

There was definitely a person in my kitchen, making a scrumptious breakfast. They were dressed in an apron decorated with roses, but missed a few necessary components that would have made them Mom: skin, a body, a bottle of wine.

It was the shadowy body of Andrew Lathon, slaving away at the stove. He said, "For someone who was so jet set on completing their school work before saving the world, you certainly have a funny way of showing it. Now, go get your shoes on, the eggs will be ready any second."

I said, "Get a lot of experience making meals on Draio?"

"Some one has to do it."

Even with the limited amount of time I had left to scarf Lathon's food down, I had to admit it was pretty delicious. It also had the pleasure of being the only thing that kept me from turning a vacuum on Lathon and sucking him into space. I didn't quite have my head wrapped around the ramifications of what his existence meant, but I could not shun a good meal.

With only ten minutes left before I would miss the bus, I crammed the rest of my breakfast into my mouth (complete with bacon and Nutella crepes, yum!) and grabbed my satchel in preparation to run out the door. The problem lied with the Silhouette who decided he was going to be my personal escort.

I said, "Can we have an unspoken agreement that you are not to follow me everywhere I go?"

He mused, "We are speaking about it now, are we not? As soon as we are done talking, I will be more than happy to oblige."

His three dimensional form disintegrated into a vapor and slithered into my bag like a hungry snake. "Head off to school, Einstein. I cannot wait to hear about how what you are going to learn today is infinitely more important than Draio itself."

Holding my bag upside down didn't do much for getting Lathon out. "Fine. You can come with me to school as soon as you explain what you have done with Mom."

"Ow!" The satchel swung around my neck and hit me in the face. "What was that for?"

He said, "You are beginning to sound like a broken record, which in turn is really annoying me. Maggie is fine. Do not worry about where she is and quit blaming me for your predicament. Now, get on that bus!"

I slammed the door behind me and ran up the street. I shouted, "Wait," as If that was going to help me slow the bus down enough.

Lathon made some crack about how I was obviously not the star athlete of Dahlgreen, saying, "I imagine many chubby humans do not pine for your physique." I responded by spitting into the bag. I figured I would pay for my crime later, but that was worth my satisfaction.

To my horror, the bus started to drive away, but Jessica's voice screamed out, "Mr. Joachim, STOP THE BUS." She was such a great friend.

"Who the devil was that?" Lathon snickered. "Sounded like a LeCarre."

I caught up with the bus and hopped up the tiny steps. Not realizing every one was watching me talk to my bag, I said, "How did you know that?"

Mr. Joachim, a heavy set man who I learned was an army veteran, pointed towards the back of the bus, "I don't have time for your hubba bubba. Sit down or I'll crack your head into three quarters and half shell."

I responded, "Um, thanks sir. I promise no more—hubba bubba?"

He gave me the universal look for "I mean business" while adding in a loud grunt for spice and I took the hint. Jessica motioned for me to hurry up. With all of the things I wanted to tell her, I obeyed.

# CHAPTER SEVEN

Jessica immediately began spouting off about some TV show she knew I had never seen. I was too distracted by Lathon's last comment to pay attention. He not only said Jessica's last name but recognized it just by hearing her attitude and voice. The feeling crept up that a lot of people knew something I didn't and I had it in spades.

Jessica punched me in the arm, "Hey, jerk. How did the dinner go?"

The memory brought me back to my reality. I saw Darius's leathery skin shrinking to his bones, stealing his life away.

"Was it that bad?" Jessica said. "Are you crying?"

I wiped my eyes. "No? Me? Crying? Of course not." Jessica stared at me like I had antlers growing out of my head. "It was dinner. Mom cooked. We ate. They talked. He left."

Jessica refused to lower her gaze. She had an awful habit of seeing right through me when I was trying to lie. I said, "Ok, it was ten times more exciting than that, but this really isn't a good time to talk about it. Present company and all."

She mocked me by interrogating the kids who had chosen to sit in the back of the bus with us, "Do you care what Alan Quinn had for dinner last night? No?" She turned back to me, "No one cares. I cared a minute ago but now even I'm not so sure anymore."

A tingling sensation crept into my ear like someone had turned a microphone on for a concert. My companion was attempting to climb in my head, "Alan, that small, teensy, weensy hunch inside of you that is begging you to give Miss LeCarre a hint about last night's festivities needs not be humored."

I mumbled quietly under my breath so Jessica couldn't hear me slowly becoming the freak she thought I was, "Why? She is my best friend. She wouldn't believe me anyways."

He said, "You would be surprised."

Jessica pointed out that I wasn't very good at keeping my voice down, "What are you babbling about now? If you don't want to talk to me you should have just said so." She crossed her arms, "You can be a real jerk sometimes."

"I am sorry—I—"

When I couldn't get her to look at me, I decided to dive headfirst into the crazy pool. "Darius showed up at my house but he was thirty years older than he was when I saw him at the store."

This got her attention. As well as Gerry's who was behind us mashing buttons in a new fighting game, popped his head up to hear our conversation.

Sure that Lathon wasn't going to stop me, I continued for my new audience, "Well, he brought some weird stone to my house and left it on our table, but then my mom kicked him out in the cold. I followed him with Peaches to the park at the end of the street, but when I got there—" I paused, wondering if I should omit the part where he died. I kept that part of the story to myself for fear it might freak them out. The fear they might call the cops also came to mind.

Jessica said, "And then what happened?"

I started to talk about Lathon but a sharp prick hit my leg from inside the bag. I let out a loud, "Ow!

Jessica and Gerry both gave me the same glare. Jessica said, "You are lying to us, aren't you?"

Gerry, dissapointed, leaned back in his seat. Jessica switched her attention back to the window.

Lathon whispered, "It might have been useful to mention I am speaking through your mind so I can allow you to respond in the same fashion. You do not have to talk for me to hear you."

He was already getting on my nerves.

I attempted to concentrate my words at him with my mind by holding both of my hands against my forhead, "How do you know who the LeCarres are?"

He said, "You really do not have to do that. Anyways, I will answer your question with my own. Did you think that your family moved here just by chance?"

I lowered my hands, "Maybe? I imagine you are about to tell me otherwise."

"You could have benefited from living on Draio because you certainly have no sense. I will leave you with this: nothing in your life has been a coincidence."

He continued to drone on for the rest of the trip, but I developed the valuable skill of tuning him out. I learned from the best, considering Jessica successfully pretended like I didn't exist. I hardly felt like anyone was on my side.

We arrived at school fifteen minutes later and walked to the Dahlgreen main gym to wait for the bell. They had put Coach Cyrus, in all of his ogre like glory, in charge of morning duty.

Since my first class was gym, he had me and the rest of my classmates dressing out in our gym clothes to prepare for dodge ball while everyone else got to sit on the gym floor and hang out with their friends. It usually wouldn't have bothered me since I only had the one friend, but now I was not so sure if I even had her anymore. It was more likely that she thought I was too much of a freak to be around.

I probably should have listened to the magical alien that had hidden in my satchel and held my peace, but Jessica was my only friend. She deserved to know what was going on. It didn't matter. She had gotten so upset with me on the bus that she didn't even wait to talk to me before she went to the girl's locker room. Lathon said some garbage like, "It is for the best," but he did not deserve a response from me. He still wouldn't tell me how he knew who she was.

The locker room smelled like a family of pigs sitting on a dung heap under a hot sun. A hundred teal and black lockers filled the walls. There were showers in the back but those were reserved for athletes.

I was joined by the twenty or so brutes that I had met on my first day of school. Each one made me look like I was too young to be in their grade with their early facial hair and massive side burns. Vick, the biggest of the bunch, had grown his first mustache over the summer, which I supposed made him the official leader. I assumed puberty had hit him when he was six. I gave it until the end of the year before he would grow a beard.

He kicked off the days by teasing me about my accent, saying, "Alan doesn't know if he's English or just an idiot." I never got it because I did not have an accent. His friends, on the other hand, laughed at his jokes like he was the next Richard Pryor.

I usually retaliated by requesting he make an attempt to find all of the different countries I had lived in on a map. It sounded like the cleverest thing after the first few times I did it until he showed me how easily I could fit into the storage closet.

Since then, he had made a point to make my life a living hell every day. I was usually defended by Jessica who can pack a pretty good punch but the chances of her helping me out on that particular day were very slim. I wish she knew I wasn't lying to her. Of all people, I thought she would at least have listened.

Vick, almost twice my size, put his finger up against my nose. It smelled like a day old bag of Doritos covered in mayonaise. He said, "Good morning, Princess Fart Wad. Want to guess what the flavor is today?"

I wasn't in the mood to be messed with, "If it isn't your mom then I don't care to know." He jerked me back by my white gym shirt and threw me into the locker.

In spite of the dizziness that set in, I quipped, "You should have let me know if you didn't want me to guess." That got me thrown at a bench.

The other boys rallied together, chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Lathon tuned into my ear, "Maybe it is not advisable to respond with social combat. You are not helping your cause. You were supposed to be showing me how this was better after all."

I slapped myself in the ear, "I will handle my own fights, THANK YOU."

The locker room had grown silent. I looked over my shoulder to find every boy with their mouths dropped open. Vick had a confused expression, but I couldn't tell one way or the other since he always looked that way. It just occurred to me that I must have said that out loud.

Vick laughed, "Oh, really? He is a freak _and_ he is crazy. We might be doing Dahlgreen a service by shutting him up. It's the showers for you, Quinn." They started towards me when the bell rang. I breathed a sigh of relief but a wicked grin stretched across Vick's face. He said, "We'll settle this on the pavement!"

I said, "Pavement?"

The group looked even more confused until a scrawny boy I knew as Rory stepped forward. "Uh, Vick?" he said. "I believe the expression is we'll settle this 'on the court.' In this situation, of course."

Vick growled and led everyone out of the locker room.

I allowed my body to relax. I said to myself, "This is going to be a long day."

Lathon mused, "Are there more hours today then there were yesterday?"

I shook my head, got changed into my uniform, and locked everything else away in my locker. Not ready for what waited for me outside, I ran out to the gym.

When I set foot on the court, the gym was dead silent. All of the students had gone off to their classes and gym class had officially begun. Coach Cyrus had split us up into teams, but I knew it was really all of the guys against me.

When the match began, I knew most of my teammates were just going to let themselves get tagged out so Vick wouldn't have any obstacles. To add insult to injury, the girls were watching our match before they received their turn on the court. I saw Jessica at the top of the bleachers but her eyes were focused on her school books. Anything to not look at me.

"Eyes on the game, Quinn," Coach Cyrus yelled, his face dark red with anger. "You will have plenty of time for footsy in BALLET CLASS!"

I assumed that was the best insult he could think of. Coach Cyrus put a whistle in the side of his mouth, "You all know how this works. You get the ball. You throw the ball. If you get hit by the ball, you are out of the game. If you are out of the game, you do a lap around the gym. You do not stop doing laps until the game is over."

A loud groan rose over Cyrus' shouts. Everyone was staring at Vick, pleading for him to call off his "leave Alan to me" game plan as it would certainly guarantee they'd be running laps for awhile.

Coach Cyrus blew his whistle three times until they quit groaning. He said, "We could always skip dodge ball and run instead. I wouldn't mind that at all."

A resounding, "No, Coach Cyrus," bounced around the acoustics of the gym. The ten players on the other team lined up horizontally on the other side. My team outnumbered them by one but that never amounted to much.

Coach Cyrus placed the ten balls we would be using to barrel each other with strategically at the center of the court. Vick licked his lips. This was Christmas to him and I was the ham he would be eating for lunch.

Coach Cyrus counted down, "3...2.." while Lathon chimed in, "Want to see a fancy trick?"

I said, "Not particularly. Please go away."

He said, "I can take that as a yes."

Before I could scream, "No," something that felt like a five foot long worm climbed into my nose. I flipped out and slapped my nose a few times, but noticed I had to be the only one in the gym that could see or feel it, so I tried my best to resist the urge to have a nervous breakdown. Vick and his buddies thought I was a riot and rolled on the floor laughing.

I said, "Lathon, get out of my body. Now!" It was too late. He had taken control of my motor skills and by that time Coach Cyrus had already screamed, "One," and blew his whistle. The game had started.

The girls were cheering us on, while my team took their positions to get knocked out of the match.

Vick hung back behind his teammates like a commanding general waiting for his chance to dive into the action. I, however, couldn't move. Lathon had been so excited about taking me over that he temporarily forgot what he was supposed to do next.

Lathon said, "This is a team effort, you know. I cannot be doing all of the work."

A ball flew past my face. I yelled in my mind, "Tell me again how this was supposed to impress me."

He said, "I have not exactly done this in awhile. Wait a tick! I have got it. Here we go."

I felt a pinch inside my head like someone was twisting a screwdriver to tighten a bolt. It was quite painful for a moment, but the pain went away around the time I lost control of my arms and legs.

My body moved back and forth behind my team which had dwindled to five members against our opponent's nine. Allowing him to drive me was weird at first, but I realized Lathon purposely had me mimicking Vick who was not so quick to take notice.

My lips moved against my own free will, "Your muscles are the least impressive things I have ever seen. How do you expect to pick up any girls when they can see you would probably lose a fight to a Nee Naw?"

I yelled at him with my mind, "What in the blazes is a Nee Naw? If you are going to be choosing my words for me, try saying something that everyone else would understand. You are going to get me killed."

He continued, "In order to beat a bully, you have to understand them. They do not wish to be picked on either nor do they want their intelligence questioned. Once you have picked up that little tip, you may notice that someone like Vick will get insulted no matter what you have called him. He would be mince meat up on Draio if he could not handle being called a Nee Naw."

"A Nee what?"

"Save your questions. Your nemesis has taken to the front lines."

Lathon made my body do a dive and roll to catch a ball that had fallen to the side. My arms grabbed a hold of it as my legs stood me back up with spring action. The ball shot out of my grip and pelted one of the heavier kids I knew as Murray in between his eyes. The crowd went wild. It kind of looked like it got Jessica's attention as well. Strangely, it looked like she was taking notes on the event.

Even Coach Cyrus pumped his fist, chanting, "There is hope for you yet, Quinn. Do it again."

I thought, "That felt good," and Lathon responded, "I am just getting started."

Another five minutes passed and the majority of the players had been relegated to jogging around the gym. I had taken out so many members of Vick's team that my guys went from making themselves leave early to serving as my personal body guards, so I could lead them to victory.

They watched as I leapt five feet in the air to dodge the enemy force's attacks. At one point, Lathon had me perched on the shoulders of one of my biggest teammates, Scottie Armstrong (think the _Incredible Hulk_ in between the switch from _Bruce Banner_ to _X-Men's Beast_ but he has white skin instead of blue and sports blonde hair.)

Together, we became a human battle tank. Lathon placed some kind of force field around us, making our defenses unstoppable. We took out everybody one dodge ball at a time, saving Vick for last.

I had to admit Vick was fast and extremely atheletic. He dodged every ball I threw at him and, after awhile, Scottie was getting too tired to hold me. He said, "Can I put you down, boss?"

Lathon spoke through me, "You have been a worthy ally, Scottie of Dahlgreen. You may put me down. This fight has to be won by me and me alone."

I thought something around the lines of "You are a dork," but Lathon wasn't the least bit offended. He had too much power to be offended. In fact, I was starting to get the feeling he had no intentions of letting me have my body back.

"Let me take this one," I said to him.

He responded, "Why would I do that? With you at the reins, we are more than likely to drown in the wallows of mediocrity."

He paused and used my eyes to look around at all of the kids who had stopped moving. They were frozen in shock, "Yeah, I suppose I have frightened your schoolmates enough. Here you go."

I felt the big invisible worm climb out of my nose and fall to the floor. Slowly, inch by inch, I regained the use of my muscles. I was ready to prove I could win without assistance, but Vick used my moment of vulnerability to throw his ball. It hit me square in the chest and hurt like hell.

I fell on my butt. The gym erupted in laughter. Lathon chuckled, "I suppose it is the journey that counts, not the destination."

Coach Cyrus helped me up, which felt like a nice gesture, but he informed me I had to run twenty laps by myself since I'd lost the match.

Lathon said, "You are on your own kid," and slithered off to the locker room.

I started my laps, while the rest of the kids had their complimentary free time. Vick had a crew of his followers around him, presenting their congratulations for his sound victory, but that wasn't the only thing they were gossiping about. Vick relished every moment of it as he shook all of their hands. If I did not know better, I would have assumed he won a close mayoral race.

Vick was waiting for me when I made it back to the locker room. His friends were cheering him on while he gleefully ripped through my satchel.

"How had he gotten to it?," I thought to myself. I must have left it next to the bench, but I thought I had put it up. I said, "What are you doing?" They ignored me like I was a fly buzzing around their heads. Louder, I said, "Put down my bag."

Impatience filled my body to the rim. The search for my dad had reached breaking point, my nightmares were coming to life, and even that didn't cut me a break from school bullies. He wasn't even clever enough to get under my skin, but something made me want to punch him right between the eyes. So, I did.

The room went silent. Twenty sets of eyes turned their attention to me and glory does not describe the situation. Vick might as well have received a beating from a bird feather for all of the pain I caused him. But, instead of instant doom, Vick froze into a Vick-sized statue.

Lathon's voice called from my locker, "I promise this is absolutely necessary." A puff of smoke, I alone seemed to see for all of the reaction it got, shot out of my locker and climbed into Vick's ear. Vick's expression turned into one of alarm before it morphed into an absolutely horrifying grin.

I shook my head "No" to let him know this wasn't okay. Vick nodded his head saying, "Oh, Yes."

Lathon-Vick threw down my satchel, "Are you done barking at me little puppies or would like daddy to take you on a walk?" The boys threw on their street clothes and ran to their next class.

Vick-Lathon or Lathon-Vick was freaking me out. The Silhouette bounced around the room like a kid in a brand new Halloween costume, doing back flips off of the benches.

I lost it. I said, "Get out of his body, this instant!" I caught him mid-flip and grabbed a hold of his right arm, forgetting that he weighed at least a hundred pounds more than I did. I was instantly regretting my decision.

We tumbled on the ground together with Vick-Lathon going first. The middle bench snapped in half. I hardly believed Lathon felt anything, but Vick was in for a rude awakening when he snapped out of Lathon's hold. Upon regaining the ability to breathe, I said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

He said, "You wanted to go to school. I have a world to protect. Since I obviously cannot have one without the other, why not have a little bit of fun?"

# CHAPTER EIGHT

I struggled to keep my balance as I pulled myself up, using my open locker for support. Dizziness poured over my body like it had been inserted via syringe. What had I done to deserve that to happen to me? It certainly didn't help that the only person I could trust with this information, Jessica, was mad at me for some silly reason. Clearly, I understood women about as much as the supernatural.

Lathon didn't take long to grasp control over Vick's body. He made his first order of business to leap on to one of the benches, while simultaneously smacking his head against the ceiling, sending pieces of drywall tumbling to the ground.

He said, "This is ten times the fun of playing your dodge ball game. You kids are definitely confused about what can be labeled a sport. Heck, there is nothing to slap your head against on Draio. It is practically nothing but open air."

I closed my eyes tightly, hoping that when they re-opened I would be acquainted with a big reveal that all of that was a big joke. None of it was really happening.

Lathon slammed Vick's body against the lockers like he was a human air hockey puck, bouncing back and forth before I caught him with my hands. My pipe dream of it all going away vanished: every bit of it was real.

He said, "Well, where do we go next on this journey?"

I said, "We? Where do _we_ go? The first thing that you are going to do is whatever Merlin tricks it takes to get your body out of Vick's. We are humans, not puppets."

Lathon looked dumbfounded. He said, "Forgive me if I am confused, but was Vick not ready to rip you into tiny Alan pieces a moment ago? If anything, I have saved your life or does life not mean much to _humans_?"

I wiped my tears of frustration away, accepting I couldn't make my new companion disappear, "Is there not some code that Silhouettes have to follow."

"A code?"

"Yeah, a moral code."

While propping his back against the nearest locker, Lathon folded his arms. I could've ripped the smug grin off of his face if I thought he could not have killed me on the spot.

"What would this code say? Before you start, will you also tell me who wrote this code? Bonus points if you can tell me when."

I glared at him for a second, but before I could get a word out the second bell letting me know I was late for class went off. "Crap."

Pulling my shirt and pants out of the locker to replace my gym clothes, I noticed my hands were sweating along with my rising anxiety. Mr. LeCarre, Jessica's father, taught my next class and I was going to be not just late but detention-worthy late. Vick was in that class along with me, so Lathon would be joining. My nerves wouldn't even let me untie the drawstring that was keeping the gym shorts on my body.

Lathon snickered, "Would you like some assistance? I find myself to be an exquisite _fashionista_. If anything, I am practically a god."

He flicked his finger and thumb together, generating a snap none too different from a firecracker. In seconds, my gym clothes flew into my locker while folding themselves into a perfect stack. My original outfit for the day burst into a storm of threads, wrapped around my body and sewed themselves in place.

I looked to Lathon who never moved from his spot on the locker. He said, "Yeah, that really happened. If I may, I believe we are late for your class."

He snapped again and Vick's gym clothes flew passed me on their way to their own locker, leaving an awful smell ranging between onions and spinach hanging in the air. I watched them burst into threads and slither through the open slits. When I turned around, Lathon had Vick completely dressed in an old sweatshirt and jeans.

He pointed his finger towards the doorway and said, "Lead the way."

Making me jump an inch or two back, the door to the locker room opened so hard it left a dent in the wall. Lathon wasn't sure what happened either as a pair of stomping footsteps entered the room. Coach Cyrus' disproportioned frame came into focus. At first, his eyes were furious to find two stragglers in the locker room, but they switched to confusion to find me, but most importantly Vick.

He said, "What do you two idiots think you're doing in here?"

Lathon did the honors, "I first noticed Alan had injured his ankle when I threw the seventh dodge ball. Yes, his team did appear to be in the lead, but even someone of your superior mind would find it impossible to notice a child in pain."

"If you must know, I was in here helping a friend get dressed for class. Does that make me an idiot? Maybe. I rather hold that banner high before letting another man fall when I had the chance to help a brother in need."

Coach Cyrus looked around Lathon at me. Quickly, I moved my stance to a limp, letting out a cry of pain as I dragged my left leg to the closest bench. The coach's face was littered with skepticism. I knew instantly the next course of action would be suspension. To my surprise, a few tears fell from his eyes.

He said, "I have never been more proud of you, Vick. Some men were put on this earth to help the worthless. You will definitely go far in this world. When you are ready to go to class, I will write you a pass."

I was so happy the plan had worked that I didn't notice that I had been inadvertently called worthless. I almost felt I could get used to having a supernatural friend.

Lathon decided to overdo it. He said, "I would not want to make it difficult for my friend to walk."

He got on his knees, gripped my leg into his arms, and pretended to snap my ankle back into place. He motioned for me to stand up. I feigned a big, goofy grin and walked around like I had just been witness to a miracle. Coach Cyrus applauded, promising he'd let the principle know who deserved to be student of the year at Dahlgreen High. We got our hall passes and walked off to class.

The hallways completely empty, Lathon ran freely with his fists raised. He was on top of the world. It had not occurred to me what having a body could mean to someone that had spent their entire life without one. It left a sour taste in my mouth thinking about it. Who was I to rob him of his joy?

I figured Lathon was no different than my mother. She spent my entire childhood following my father to any country of his choosing just like Lathon was ousted from his home world. I may never have gained any memories, but Mom never gained any roots. The dream chasers came along and we were barely a family at all. We had become a traveling circus and my mother was the tiger in the cage.

I did not want to be the one to end Lathon's fun, but we were approaching fifteen minutes late to Mr. LeCarre's class. I said, "Lathon, it is the next class on the left. Mr. LeCarre's social studies."

Lathon froze dead in his tracks. He turned around, saying, "Could you run that passed me one more time?"

I said, "Mr. LeCarre's—"

He cut me off, "That is all I need. Where is the traitor?"

"I'm sorry?"

"A LeCarre living in the general vicinity of the Quinn's? I told you nothing in your life has been a coincidence. Even worse, the git has been having offspring. Mating with humans? I have a lot to say to that wretch."

I made a weak attempt to catch his shoulder before he went bursting through the door. I wished for telepathic powers, so I could apologize to Mr. LeCarre. Why not? Slowly, the word _impossible_ was disappearing from my vocabulary.

I walked into the room. The students collectively had their jaws wide open. Lathon had taken a stance before Mr. LeCarre's desk. To them, it was the abhorred Vick.

Mr. LeCarre with his thick, scraggly beard and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses could not disguise how terribly confused he was at that precise moment. I always thought he was a hippie. He kept his hair long and his outfits were colorful, yet outdated by forty years. I'd call him laid back, but he looked like he was prepared to leap over his desk at the drop of a hat as Lathon took center stage.

Lathon yelled, "I see you sitting their with your human mask, teaching them about their history when you could not even begin to tell me about ours. You were always a coward. What would Reese think if he saw you right now? Teaching his children? You deserve permadeath for your crimes!"

I wanted to tell him not to talk about that stuff in public, but something flipped on in my ears. It was like my brain had switched frequencies via radio dial.

Instead of the original conversation, I heard Lathon yelling, "Homework? On a weekend? Are you out of your mind? I ought to tie that rat you call a beard around your neck for all of the respect you have shown me. Do you realize how many headshots I missed out on in _Black Ops_? Of course you do not, social study teachers do not understand what it means to have talent."

With that, Lathon walked to Vick's desk in the back of the class and sat down. Mr. LeCarre made brief eye contact with me and jerked his head to the left, motioning me to have a seat. The class took turns trying to see what had gotten into Vick.

Mr. LeCarre cleared his throat. He said, "I will see Mr. Hoffner and Mr. Quinn after class," and got up to resume his lessons. I had the hardest time listening to what he was droning about. Removing what Lathon had said about Mr. LeCarre's crimes would have taken an explosion and an appropriately placed chisel.

Thirty minutes and an awfully boring lesson plan later, the bell rang. I prepared to receive another hall pass to miss the first fifteen minutes of my next class, but the way Mr. LeCarre closed and locked the door did not make me feel like it was going to be a brief encounter.

He looked over at me and then back to Lathon, "Does he know?"

"Know what?" I said.

Lathon giggled, "More than most."

Mr. LeCarre nodded. He turned his head down towards his feet and raised a finger to the center of his forehead. When he removed it, a hole the size of a bullet took its place. A cloud of smoke seeped out until his body fell to the ground. The smoke particles swarmed around each other until they formed the shape of a man.

Lathon was anxious to return the favor. He poked a similar hole on the top of Vick's head and came seeping out until he was back in his own Silhouette form. Luckily, Vick didn't turn into a pile of skin. He held his spot in his desk, but his eyes were rolled into the back of his head. I thought I should check to make sure he hadn't been turned into a vegetable but I am not sure that there would have been much of a difference.

I was still too freaked out by the fact that if Mr. LeCarre was a Silhouette, who else was one? Coach Cyrus? My bus driver? I just didn't know anymore.

The two Silhouettes spun around each other, sizing each other up. Lathon was slightly larger than Mr. LeCarre in form. If they were to start fighting, I wasn't sure what kind of damage they could cause. Would one of them die? Can they die?

Lathon taunted, "What was the plan, LeCarre? Were you going to wait until Reese and Maggie could no longer defend themselves before you murdered their only son?"

LeCarre scoffed, "Murder Alan? If I were trying to do that, I think I would have taken advantage of my countless opportunities, do you not think?"

I said, "Murder? I am Alan. Can I not be included in this conversation?" Naturally, they both ignored me.

Lathon growled, "A pressing opportunity? Like the one where you scarred their family for the rest of their lives?"

The two Silhouettes charged at each other. A range of electric shocks shot off from their fingertips. A few were going to hit me if I had not had the wherewithal to dive under the nearest desk. Vick was not so lucky. His body was thrown against the wall with a loud thud. It still wasn't enough to wake him, but it could have alerted someone in the nearest classroom.

LeCarre fended off Lathon, "Does it burn less when you blame your mistakes on others?"

A blue spark shot off from LeCarre's fingertips, hitting Lathon's shadowy body, making it glow brighter than Peaches did the night before. LeCarre stepped forward like he had planned to apologize, but Lathon let out a loud cackle and forced all of the energy out of his body and through LeCarre who hit his desk, splitting it down the center and sending the sides toward the opposite ends of the classroom.

The left side of the desk ripped a big crack into the nearest window, but, before anything could get anymore out of hand, I ran between the two battling sides. It was definitely against my better judgment. I said, "You two have to stop now. I don't know what is going on, but whatever it is can not be worth endangering this entire school."

Lathon put his hands up in surrender, "LeCarre, you know I was never found guilty of the crimes you are accusing me of. If you can believe me, I am here to make up for what happened that day."

When LeCarre didn't respond, Lathon started to climb back into Vick. I stopped him, saying, "No more abducting," and had him fix the room back to its original form before climbing back into my satchel. All of the desks were straightened; ash and debris were cleared from the walls. It was like everything else, he did it with the flick of his wrist..

LeCarre pushed himself up. With the exception of a slight strobe effect, he was unharmed. His human body formed around him like a cocoon encasing a caterpillar, replacing his empty face with his bushy beard. He had turned back in to the teacher and father I had known a month before.

He sat back down at his desk, took a long breath, and said, "I suppose we need to talk."

The second bell sounded off. Soon after, there was a round of loud knocks on the classroom door. LeCarre raised his voice; "We will be having lunch early today." There was a pause of silence. A small voice broke it, "Are you serious, Mr. LeCarre?"

LeCarre said, "Very."

"Uh, Mr. LeCarre, sir? Are you sure? It is only third period."

"YOU ARE HAVING LASAGNA AND WILL IT BE DELICIOUS."

The crowd of kids cheered and scampered their way towards the cafeteria. LeCarre turned his attention back to my satchel. He said, "Before we get started, I want to make it perfectly clear that I have nothing to do with the whereabouts of your father or the fate of your mother."

"My mother?"

LeCarre's eyebrows creased, "Lathon you said he knew everything."

The Silhouette poured back out of the bag before I could seal it tight, saying, "I was not completely sure what you meant when you said everything. Everything _is_ an awfully strong word, is it not?"

LeCarre sighed, "Awfully. I do not care about the verdict of your trial, Lathon. Someone told Darius about Maggie and Reese."

"Told him about what?"

Lathon continued as if I had uttered nonsense, "I personally had the intention of taking our growing boy here to the place he belongs. He decided he rather go to school first and what should we find but a Silhouette that is acting as teacher. So, truthfully, I believe I want to know the real reason you are here."

My ears perked up.

LeCarre pulled his glasses down to the edge of his nose, revealing the generous man I had come to respect. The few times I had gone to Jessica's house, I felt like he was my second father or at least a father that was guaranteed to be there when I woke up the next morning. I had never felt safer. I couldn't bare that all being ripped out from beneath me.

LeCarre cleared his throat, "If you must know, I chose _Ashton_ because there is nothing interesting about it. Up until the Quinns moved into town, it had remained that way. Maggie brought Alan to orientation and I recognized them instantly. Maggie didn't recognize me, but that was, of course, the first time she had seen me with a face. After that, I suppose I was here to protect Alan from the inevitable appearance of Andrew Lathon."

I could feel my throat drying up with the thought of it. I strained to get the words out, "Are you trying to tell me my parents are Silhouettes?"

LeCarre tilted his head at me like the concept couldn't be so difficult to grasp, "Your father? He has studied the art but he is not full blooded. Your mother is not, but I do not believe it is mine or Lathon's place to tell you how she ties into all of this."

He said, "The people that your family brought with you—"

"Dream chasers?" I added.

"Sure. They know exactly what he is and intend to extract it, if anything."

Lathon slithered out of my bag. I peered at him to see his reaction to all of it, but he had turned his attention to the wall and to the unconscious Vick on the floor, covered in a scar or two from the accident.

I asked, "Why would they want to do that?"

Lathon's voice missing its energy, he said, "They want to figure out what it takes to kill us. They are also from Draio. They are the ones who locked our species in cages."

"But, they have been with our family forever."

Lathon turned back to me, "Let me ask you a question, Alan. Where were you on the last occasion that you saw these humans?"

I thought hard. I closed my eyes and saw Darius, lots of people, and—

The words, "The bookstore," left my lips and my body seized up. The image of the confrontation with the dream chasers all the way to Darius' body crumbling into dust before my eyes swam over my brain.

The words fell out of my mouth like a ball of nails, "They killed Darius!"

# CHAPTER NINE

I could not believe how stupid I was for not seeing it before. A bunch of suspicious weirdoes followed my family around the world, Dad disappeared, and a man I barely got to know died before my eyes. It could not have been more obvious if they had just handed me a manual for how to sort out ridiculously obvious things. It hit me even harder to think of what that could mean for my father.

Lathon paced around the room, allowing the desks to pass through him. Grunting, calculating, I hoped he was drumming up a plan and soon. LeCarre sat motionless at his desk, breathing slowly. The inaction was maddening.

"Well, say something," I pleaded. The fear crept over me. I was beginning to think all of this was my fault. I had an entire childhood to report those men to the authorities and I blew it.

LeCarre smirked, "There is not much to say. Those men are clearly rooting out the Silhouettes. It was never a question of if, but when they were going to come and finish the job. Sorry to have doubted you, Lathon."

He was calm, but I wasn't positive on how a Silhouette reacts in those kinds of situations. The fake body that covered his shadowy skin might as well have been a robot. Lathon, on the other hand, showed a human side with his anger. I did not know if he acquired it by inhabiting Vick's body, but it was becoming dizzying to watch him zoom around the room faster and faster. It seemed trivial to try and stop him, as he would have probably just passed right through me.

I walked over to Mr. LeCarre's desk, the agony of the situation getting to me. "What is he doing?" I asked.

LeCarre brushed his hands through his mane of hair, "If I know Lathon, and I believe I do, he is trying to keep himself from breaking out of this building and killing all of those men."

Lathon changed his pattern. He would pass through a few desks, but every fourth one he would become solid, pick up the desk, and chunk it against the wall. The teacher next door must have taken her kids to lunch or she definitely would have been banging on the door at that moment.

That Silhouette who, up until that point, I had thought to be a prankster was starting to frighten me. A painful soreness drew my attention to my right hand. I realized I was gripping LeCarre's desk for dear life.

I let go. Shakily, I said, "Will h-he eve-r-r stop?"

LeCarre leaned back in his chair, his big beard scratching his chest. He rested his hands behind his head, saying, "I suppose I could put an end to it."

He rubbed his hands together and abruptly threw them forwards. A green orb in the shape of a cheap light bulb came shooting out, hit Lathon in the head, and froze him in place. He blinked green like a strobe light.

Lathon said, "Can I help you?"

LeCarre got up and sat on the front of his desk, "You are scaring our young friend here. Likewise, you are getting on my nerves. Please, calm yourself long enough to come up with some kind of plan. Note that I only say please because it is customary in this part of the world. You do not have the luxury of a choice."

"Fair enough. Could you be a dear and take this freezing spell off me?"

LeCarre snapped his fingers together. The freeze was lifted and Lathon sat down at one of the remaining desks he hadn't thrown across the room. He said, "Before we continue, is there something we can do about the boy?"

I jumped to my defense, "I want to help! This is every bit my problem as it is yours."

He waved his hand to silence me, "Not you, Alan. I am referring to," he pointed at Vick lying in a laundry pile on the floor, "pudgy over here. I dare say I do not feel comfortable giving him a chance to wake up and hear the plan. It might give him a bit of a start. Am I wrong here?"

LeCarre nodded in agreement. "We are going to have to wake him. The human rules here do not allow for an unconscious body to lie in the hallway. Alan, I think this might be a good opportunity for you."

To my defense, I said, "Me? No way. If I am the first person he sees when he wakes up, he'll pulverize me."

LeCarre smiled, "But, Alan, if you cannot stand up to a human adolescent, how do you propose to fight the forces that wait for you on Draio?"

Lathon concurred and faded into a vapor, making himself invisible. LeCarre slightly waved his hand. At his command, every desk but Vick's in the back of the room sat upright and in it is normal position. It was going to make things easier, but I didn't think Vick would remember how he went from gym class and straight to Mr. LeCarre's.

I got on one knee next to Vick. He was beginning to snore; one booger slid in and out of his nose. I was already regretting the idea.

"Vick?" I said, barely more than a whisper. I looked back at LeCarre for confidence, but his eyes were staring back at me with cold impatience. Louder, I said, "Vick?"

He wouldn't budge. I grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him. Nothing I did was making a dent. He was out for the count. I said, "Guys, I don't think I can wake him up. You must have put some kind of sleeping spell or something on him."

Lathon sighed, "No such thing exists, Alan. With all of the cool things we can do, why would we waste time on something as silly as that? You are not trying hard enough. Pain might be beneficial in this situation."

I turned back to LeCarre, but his eyes had grown wide. He said, "They would not be very pleased with me if I did what needs to be done. I quite enjoy playing human."

Maybe I wasn't trying hard enough. Here I was planning something life altering with two magical beings, but I was still looking at my high school bully like he was a sleeping T-Rex.

Shame was unacceptable. I went with my instincts and punched Vick in the stomach as hard as I could. As I feared, it sprung him to life.

"Oh my God," he said, gasping for air, "I am awake. I am awake!"

I slowly crawled backwards, hoping he wouldn't notice me. I knew this was a lost cause. Once he could catch his breath, his eyes locked on to mine. He stood up on his own with a glaring fury coating his red cheeks. He said, "Alan?"

He looked at Mr. LeCarre and then to his desk that was lying upside down on the floor. When he turned his attention back to me, his expression shifted from anger to an emotion I had never seen on his face before: admiration.

Vick approached me. It was all I could do not to turn around and run away, but I held my ground. He came to within an inch of my frame. I could smell onions and body odor radiating from his hoodie. Just when I thought he was going to return my favor with a stiff punch in the ribs, he spread his arms wide.

I glanced from his left arm to his right, trying to determine how he was going to pound me in with that move, but his arms lovingly wrapped around my back. Sweat dripped off of his brow and landed on my cheek. It was disgusting, but I was relieved that I was not about to get beat up in front of the Silhouettes.

He said, "Thank you."

I mumbled, "You're welcome?"

Vick laughed, let me go, opened the door, and pushed the first kid he saw in the hall towards the nearest locker. He hadn't changed one bit, but I supposed that he would not be bothering me again. I said, "What just happened?"

LeCarre waved his left arm, the door closed. He began to applaud, "Now, was that not impressive?"

My body was shaking, but I felt stronger. I said, "Did that—what?"

Lathon reappeared, "If you thought that was amazing, you would have loved Draio."

I asked, "Loved?"

Lathon changed the subject, "What are we going to do about those lousy dream blokes?"

LeCarre said, "I imagine we need to come up with something quickly. It is only a matter of time before they—"

The intercom sounded off from the center of the room. LeCarre and I looked up, but Lathon took a defensive stance. He screamed, "I WILL NOT GO BACK."

A woman's voice said, "Mr. LeCarre?"

LeCarre stood up and walked to the door where the intercom button rested. He said, "Lathon, please relax." He pressed the button, "Yes?"

She continued, "Is Alan Quinn still in your room? I beeped Mrs. Mucaukis' room, but she reported he had not shown up for her class."

"He is here. Is he needed?"

"He has been checked out for the day. Tell him to bring his things."

I said, "Is it Mom?"

LeCarre released the button, "I guess we will have to meet at another time. My class is probably tearing up the cafeteria at this point. Lathon, stay with Alan and we will figure something out. Darius was a good man but he was not an ace at combat. Those five bas—men probably have something up their sleeves we are not aware of yet."

He opened the door and ushered us out. Lathon morphed into vapor and climbed into my satchel, saying, "Until we meet again, old friend."

As I neared the principle's office, I was becoming hesitant. Last time I saw my Mom she was driven beyond madness. Then I thought, " _What if it is Dad_? _Would that not have been amazing_?" I erased the idea from my mind. It was foolish. My Dad hardly came to pick me up at school and he wouldn't use that opportunity to return. He was not that clever.

I got a little nervous as the fish bowl-like office came into view, filled with men and women sitting at computers typing away. I could see a big lady with a fire truck red poof-style hair cut. She was scarfing down a ham sandwich like it was her last meal. A tall man in a dark blue suit stood watching the school cameras. He had a _World's Greatest Boss_ mug in his hand that he would take sips from, leaving tiny drops of coffee in his bushy mustache.

One person I didn't see was whoever had arrived to pick me up. I sped up my walk, entered the office and peered around. The receptionist had a huge smile on her face. It was one of those smiles that you worry will take over someone's head, replacing their face.

She stared at me with her happy expression for what seemed like an eternity before I broke the silence, "Um, I am Alan Quinn."

"Hi, Alan. My name is Stacie."

I couldn't help but think that I was not in the mood for small talk. I said, "I was called to the office to be checked out."

"Were you?"

"Yes, I think it was you that called me here."

"Was it?"

I put my head down. I heard a voice that said, "Just get on with it," before my satchel lifted up and slammed into my hip. "Ouch."

"Do you need a Band-Aid?"

"What? No. I am here to check out."

She flipped her shiny blonde hair and reached for the check out clipboard, "Why didn't you just say so?"

I grabbed the clipboard from her to sign my name. The name column for who had checked me out had a signature I did not recognize, but I could easily make out what it said: Reese Alan Quinn.

The signature wrapped around my heart and ripped at the strings. I said, "This must be some kind of mistake." The door to the office opened behind me, stealing the receptionist's attention. I said, "Hey, did you hear me? I think you have some kind of mistake."

"Are you ready to go, Alan?"

I didn't want to believe what I heard. It was a voice I hadn't heard in weeks. It was all too much at once. The stress and longing I felt inside fell with it. I turned around.

Dad was wearing the same black suit from the night he left us. It was pristinely pressed, complimenting itself with a navy blue tie. His face was freshly shaved and his hair was combed to the side. He was handsome, he was happy, but most importantly to me, he was alive.

He got on one knee, so he wasn't towering over me. He spread his arms out, but I wasn't sure. The hurt feelings and rage seeped back in. He had left us alone at a critical time in our lives. Where had he gone? Why was he back now?

Stacie cheered, "I just love happy endings. Go hug your father! Now!"

Dad blinked his eyes in an attempt to eliminate his own tears. He whispered, "I am sorry, son. I promise I will explain everything."

That wasn't how I expected all of that to go. Something didn't feel right. It felt unresolved, anti-climactic. I was happy to see him, but at the same time I wasn't sure if it was really happening. I walked past him, out the door, and straight out of the school towards his car.

He did not immediately follow me. I took the opportunity to confer with Lathon. I said, "Why doesn't it feel right?"

"Perhaps, it is not right. Perhaps, it is too little too late. I cannot answer that question for you."

"Because I already know the answer?"

"Precisely."

I sat on the curb, feeling worse than I had during the whole experience of living without Dad. I said, "I just miss him so much. I've never had a real father and son experience with him. It was always Mom and I off by ourselves while he did his own thing. He never made an attempt to act like he was my father. Like he was proud of me. Now, this."

Lathon said, "Just be careful. There are a lot of pretenses going on that I believe unwise to ignore."

"I know. Please stick with me through this."

"Every step of the way."

My Dad's voice called from behind me, "Ready to go, sport?"

"Sport?"

"Ok, Alan, then. Let us depart on our journey."

He walked around the red Jaguar, opened the door and climbed in. The car came roaring to life. If anything, maybe I would learn more about what happened to him. Nervously, I opened the door and climbed inside. After buckling my seatbelt, the car was switched into drive and we drove off.

Dad was clearly happy to see me, but he let me have my time. He was sensitive to my feelings. It wasn't like aliens, or whatever the dream chasers were, possessed him. He generally cared for my welfare and that scared me the most.

I remained quiet for the duration of the drive. As we got closer to home, I became more comfortable with the idea of having Dad back. Things like Draio, the Silhouettes, or even the dream chasers themselves didn't cross my mind. A wave of relief crashed over me. It was difficult to find the words to say, but I allowed myself to do something that had been more than difficult for me to do for the last few weeks.

I allowed myself to smile.

Peaches greeted us when we entered the house by wagging her tail at full blast. Dad playfully tackled her, rolled around, and scratched her tummy. When they were done she ran to me to provide a slobbery kiss on the cheek. She stopped in place once she spotted my satchel.

"What are you doing, Peaches?" I said. "You want something in my bag?"

I reached to unlatch it when it hit me that I had forgotten what lived inside. A slight tap hit my shoulder from behind. Lathon whispered into my ear, "Do not worry, Quinn. I will be around, but not too close. Be careful with this one."

The whisper faded. Even though I could not see him, I felt him walk away.

Dad got back on his feet, dusted his pants off, and began a tour of the house like he hadn't seen it in ages. He scanned every photograph on the walls, tested out all of the furniture in the living room. He was blown away by the piano. He hopped on the piano chair and played a nice Beethoven melody. He followed it up by wandering into the kitchen to check the inside of every cabinet. Each discovery lit a tiny light in his eye.

He was home and, for once, he seemed happy at last to be there.

# CHAPTER TEN

Dad pulled a stick of butter and a few slices of cheese from the fridge and sat them down on the counter next to the stove. He opened up small talk, "So, where is your mother?"

I said, "She likes to run errands while I am at school, I suppose."

He collected a sharp knife and the loaf of bread, then switched on one of the eyes. He said, "Well, put your bag up and bring Peaches in the kitchen. I will make you a grilled cheese and we will talk."

I looked down at my toes, still struggling to allow any of it to sink in, "Can I just have the grilled cheese for now? I don't really feel like talking."

Dad pulled out the frying pan from under the stove and sat it on the stovetop. His face crinkled with disappointment. Faintly, I could see a slight hint of understanding. He responded, "Yes, I suppose I could work with that."

I wrapped the satchel around the dining room chair at the head of the table and had a seat. I scratched Peaches on the head who had come over to nuzzle me with her big golden nose. Just to think that only a few nights before, Darius had come over to prove the existence of Draio. It really did a number on my mother and now she had gone out somewhere by herself. The red stone he left behind on the table stood as the painful reminder.

I worried how she might react upon seeing my father for the first time in three weeks. I hoped the unopened wine bottle lying on the piano was a good sign that she would be on her best behavior when she got home.

As the stove heated up, a greasy, buttery smell began to rise into the house. My stomach rumbled with the desire for a warm meal. Peaches was in agreement. She went into the kitchen and nosed Dad's legs, hoping to grab a few scraps that may accidentally fall to the ground.

Dad chuckled, "This is not for you, my new furry friend. The prince would not be very pleased with your tomfoolery."

About seven minutes passed before Dad grabbed the spatula to place the sandwich on a plate and delivered it to the table. "Anything to drink?" he said.

I spoke quietly in hopes of hiding any instance where I might come off as forgiving, "I'll take some water, I suppose."

He rushed back to the cabinets, grabbed the first glass he could get his hands on, and filled it to the brim with water from the faucet. He placed it in my hand and sat across from me, eagerly waiting for me to enjoy his creation.

He said, "I have never gotten a chance to cook for you. It is not necessarily a steak dinner, but I am plenty proud."

I picked up the sandwich with both hands and studied the crispy brown marks from the frying pan that broke up the pattern of butter and cheese. I bit in and tore off a corner. It slid right down my throat, warming my body from stomach to my brain. The sensation was so overwhelming, that my eyes sealed shut, leaving me in my own personal world that only inhabited my sandwich and me. I felt completely ridiculous but I didn't care.

Dad reached across the table and grabbed my arm. He said, "Is there anything you would like to ask me? I am an open book."

I barely heard a word he said. The blackness I witnessed by closing my eyes was beginning to brighten up. Trees with crooked branches populated the entire landscape. A huge water source appeared with big, crashing waves far away in the distance. Grass rose up around my feet, but no higher than my ankles, which were not very big to begin with. It was a world where a beach, a forest, and a park could come together as one. It was perfect.

Peaches ran into view, chasing a butterfly with a shiny pink glimmer radiating from its wings. Peaches leapt at least twenty feet in the air on every jump, but she was still no match for the butterfly that, I swear, began to laugh. I had never heard a butterfly make a noise before. It sounded like one of Peaches' squeaky balls, which made my ears rattle when she would bring them to me.

A man with hair down to his shoulders walked out of the ocean in the distance. I could not make out his face, but he was dressed up in a brown long coat to match his brown shirt, pants, and boots. There were sheaths and straps holding swords, knifes, and a few guns. The man resembled a pirate, but his face might as well have been completely blank for how well I recognized him.

His mouth opened. He said, "Alan, are you ready?" Loud enough to assume that he was standing right beside me. The voice was familiar but not enough that I could immediately identify it.

I said, "Ready for what?"

The man stopped in his tracks about 50 yards from the park. A warm breeze passed through under the shimmering sunlight. He spread his arms out to his sides. A solemn voice filled with all of the tragedy in the world responded to me. He said, "War."

Gigantic streams of fire and electricity shot out of his hands, wrapping around every tree on the island and bringing them down in ashes, leaving little more than stumps in their places. It went quickly like an eraser on a notepad. The man aimed the streams toward the sun, which disappeared from the sky, leaving behind an atmosphere made completely of lightning and flames. The ocean dried up into a vapor. The remaining water swirled up into the sky into a roaring tornado.

The grass around my feet caught fire. I wanted to run, but I was frozen in place with nowhere to turn. I was going to die right then and there without a friend. Peaches had vanished from the island, or worse, she was taken in the inferno.

I looked at the man. He was laughing and pleased to see the world burn. The streams of power died down and returned to his palms. The tornado faded with the wind. The fiery sky remained, heating my cheeks to what felt like 1000 degrees. I felt it was only moments before I would dissolve into ash. I was beyond shaken.

The man began walking towards me again. He moved 10 yards at a time, nothing like a human man. His face slowly came into focus as he neared.

The sadness and hate in his eyes I had not witnessed since the night he left us. This was his plan, eh? He was sent back to take me from this world and hold me witness to this travesty. Dad grabbed a hold of my shoulders and lifted me up to his eye level.

He shook me, saying, "Alan? Wake up."

The worlds around me blinked on and off like a light switch. I was back at the dining room table in Ashton. Dad was standing next to me with his hands on my shoulders. I weaseled out of his grip and went straight to the nearest window to open the curtains. I was thankful when the sunlight came pouring in. The vision had felt so real. Where did it come from? I watched as the stone's glow died down.

Dad sat back down at the table. He said, "Is something wrong? Perhaps we are moving too fast with our family reunion?"

I said, "No, I was just day dreaming. I haven't been able to do that in awhile," but was still unsure what I had just envisioned.

"Day dreams are my favorite," he laughed to himself. "They are the mind telling you the world around you is not enough. There is something more incredible or terrifying waiting for you in a far off land. Our minds crave adventure. It is up to us to satiate their hunger."

I eyed him. He was in his professor mode, but something didn't feel right. For the first time, I did not think him human. What if he was just a Silhouette who found human culture fascinating? Was I just an ongoing science experiment? I sat down at the piano chair, effectively keeping my distance from his place at the table. That lasted about five seconds. He approached me.

"You hardly ate any of your sandwich," he said.

"I am not hungry."

"You seemed quite hungry a moment ago."

"Well, I am full," I said, fishing for the words to say to him. "Where were you?"

The question hit him in the chest. He was all up for answering questions until I took control of the inquisition. He sat down at the couch with his back firmly against the cushions. He twiddled his thumbs before he said, "Not too far from town."

"Were you with the dream chasers?"

"Davison and his group have been very good to this family. I am not sure I understand the animosity you feel towards them."

"You did not answer my question."

A slight glimmer of admiration bloomed on his face, "You sure have grown up in the last couple of weeks. I left a thirteen year old and came home to a seasoned adult."

I crossed my arms and tilted my head. He got the point.

"Yes. We were in the Dahlgreen area, exploring. I told your mom what I was going to be doing, but I guess she forgot to tell you or something."

The fact that he would say that triggered a dreadful pain in my forehead. I said, "She did a mighty fantastic job of forgetting, didn't she? She has been completely wrecked since you left."

Dad froze a few moments to collect his thoughts. He said, "You would not—"

I rose from my seat, "Understand? Is it because I am your stupid thirteen-year-old son? I can't even begin to explain what the two of us have gone through in just the last couple of days."

He perked up, "What sort of things?"

I hadn't realized where I was going with my tirade. Was it the best time to bring up Darius and everything else that had been going on?

Dad leaned back, "Well? I would not have asked if I did not care for the answer."

I raced through my mind, trying to find something smaller to cover. I said, "Ok, Mother has developed a nasty addiction to wine. Mostly, I have had to care for her."

Confused, he said, "Wine?"

"A lot of wine."

"That all?"

I fought to hold his gaze. I wasn't ready to talk Draio with dear old Dad. I said, "That's the most of it."

"Well, I am terribly sorry for what I have put you and your mother through," he said. He stood up and turned to the portrait of Mom hanging above the couch. If I looked hard enough, I could almost make out that his eyes were watering. He said, "I love her, you know?"

I crossed my arms, "I guess."

"I know you will never understand the motivations for my actions but they are what they are. I am a man built around his dreams and those dreams told me to distance myself from my wife and my son. Those dreams told me danger was coming. What was I supposed to do, Alan? Yes, I could have stayed, but that would have either put you in danger or it would have said I had lost faith in my passion. You cannot expect me to do something like that. Could you?"

The creeping memory of Darius' horrible fate tickled my brain, sending a shiver up my spine. Mom was worse than she had ever been and my life had been on the line more than once and the week wasn't over. I wondered why Dad thought he was protecting us by disappearing. There was so much room for it to continue to get worse without him.

"Why now?" I questioned.

He turned back to me, "Why what?"

I said, "If it was so important to distance yourself from us, why are you home now?"

He said, "Sometimes love is too strong to be kept at a bay," and proceeded out of the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

I was dumbstruck. The two of us had never had a father-son moment together, but here I was trying my hardest to throw it all away like yesterday's garbage. Other than never being around when I needed him, what had he truly done to hurt me? He introduced me to a new world that was coming to life all around me. Wasn't that a good thing?

"I trust you will make sound decisions in this pivotal moment?" Lathon appeared as a thick, black human shape in the far corner of the room. "Right?"

"Keep your voice down. I don't know what to think," I said. "I need him."

"You need him in his present state like human civilizations need cholera. He is a tampered good. He has a dangerous air about him."

Anger rising in my voice, "Is that what you think? He has a dangerous air about him? You're one to talk about dangerous people! I bet you could kill me on your first try. I imagine I am better off with him."

"You do not mean that and you know it."

I remained silent.

He moved to the kitchen table in record speeds, "This man went missing, admitted he went on an adventure with some of the most dangerous human beings I have met since the first time I sprouted into existence, and now he wants to be lovey dovey with his family that he has hardly ever spent any time with up until now."

He mused, "On a second thought, yes. This must all be perfectly normal because that is how _you_ perceive it."

Tired of being handed lectures from Lathon, I said, "This is my Dad we are talking about."

"And?"

"Well, he is my creator. He is responsible for my well being. He may have done a lot of awful things in the last few weeks—"

"Ha. That is an understatement."

Before I could stop myself, I said, "But, when it boils down to it, he is what separates me from you. For you see, you have no idea where you come from. He's my dad. It's something you would never understand. You are a glorified orphan. Lathon, I mean—"

It was too late. Lathon had faded from the room. The house became silent with the exception of the creaks from my father wondering upstairs. I punched the tabletop. I was becoming a disaster to everyone around me.

Lathon appeared on the couch. His frame shaking like a rattlesnake tail. He said, "I have come to a decision. I will allow you to try your dad for a few days."

"He is not a puppy."

In a struggle to keep calm, he said, "I want you to experience firsthand what you are up against. Maybe then you will grow to respect me. When I think you've become desperate enough, I will make my grand return."

Confusion set in. "Where will you go?"

"That I will keep to myself. You are fraternizing with an enemy spy. I would not have that information getting into the wrong hands."

"I guess this is goodbye for now?"

Lathon disappeared in a millisecond, leaving me alone with my sorrows. The first noise to break the silence was the clicks and clacks that hit the wooden planks as Peaches walked downstairs. A squeaky, turtle toy rested in her mouth. She walked it over to me and sat it next to my feet.

A slight twinkle in her eyes made me smile. I thought I had already figured out where Lathon was going to be hiding for a short while. Before I could sneak in that I knew Peaches' true identity, she let out an obnoxious bark, eliminating my suspicions. Everything was going to be normal after all.

I supposed I could use a break from Draio's finest. There was homework to be done, dinners to be eaten, time to be spent with my family—normal stuff.

Dad walked back downstairs. He stopped himself at the front door. As his back turned to me, I let all of my emotions take over. I ran to him and grabbed a hold with my entire wingspan. "I am sorry," I said.

His voice was gruff, pained. He said, "Apologies are useless, wretch. Let go of me."

"What?"

He turned around and hugged me back. "I said, 'I love you, son.' Things are about to get a lot better."

"That is not what you—said."

For all I knew, my mind was playing tricks on me. Dad had never said something so cold and calculated in his life. I had a hard time believing he picked up new speech patterns while he was away. He held on tight to me, only letting go when we heard a loud noise coming from outside.

Mom was home. She was shouting to herself as she came up the driveway. I hoped her mood would improve once I showed her who had come home at last.

Mom hastily opened the door, almost bowling Dad and I over. Her hair was disheveled. Uneven strands were hanging in different directions like she had been attacked with static electricity. Her makeup was botched. Her eyeliner was on thick, but her lipstick couldn't have been worse if a three year old was attempting to color inside the lines. Dad who was rather excited to see her before hand had a disappointed expression on his face. Every inch of my being that hoped Mom had recovered from that crazy night was shattered.

She stood still. Rage covering her wrinkled suit, she huffed and puffed.

I said, "Mom, I wanted to—"

"Don't."

Dad grinned. I hoped it was because he realized what he had left behind and not because he was prepared to break into mad laughter. He said, "Hi, honey."

Mom said, "Don't," and stomped off for the dining room table. She slammed her purse down on the kitchen table. She picked up the stone and tossed it up and down like a baseball, saying, "Want to hear how I have been?"

She shook the stone at Dad, taunting him, "Reese Alan Quinn, ask me how I have been!"

Dad cautiously stepped closer and closer to Mom. I closed the door.

Mom took off at full speed, swinging the stone at Dad as hard as she could. He dodged it one or two times, but it hit him in the chest on try three. It affected him like a feather would bother a crocodile. Dad wrapped his arms around Mom, shushing her to calm down.

Loud, convulsive sobs came pouring from my mother. Her sharp nails tore into my father's suit jacket.

"I missed you," Dad said. "I wish it did not have to be this way. I would have given anything not to be away from you for so long."

Between sniffles, she said, "I know. I've always known. Otherwise, I wouldn't have married such a jackass."

They broke up. Their embrace interrupted when dad said, "What is up with the rock?"

With that Mom took another swing, nailing her target with bulls eye accuracy.

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

I helped Dad up from his terrible fall. Mom had slammed him dead on the nose with the stone, which tumbled him directly into the coffee table. Mom ignored us. She began to recount the day's events from waking up at noon to what lead her to walk up the driveway, gracing us with her presence. She described the sweat that matted the hair to her face when her eyes opened from the total blackout the night before. Apparently, we were witnessing an improved version of her makeup as well. Though, the detail she clung to was the red stone that greeted her on their lamp table.

Dad said, "Dear—" as he rubbed his nose, but Mom pressed on.

"This stone in my hand," she said with a venomous tone, warning Dad to clear out of the way to avoid any further injuries, "was given to me by none other than Darius. Wasn't that nice of him?"

The insensitive utterance of his name stung my soul. I figured she couldn't possibly have known what happened to him if she was going to refer to him like a pile of trash.

Dad cheerfully said, "Old Darius came to see you, eh? I figured he was the one that bought this shiny new piano. There are few people I can count on in this world and he is one of them," he turned to me, "You know, he hired me as a correspondent for his last book."

He scratched his head, "What was it called? _Dreamheaven_ or _World of Dreams_ or—"

I sat down at the couch with him, " _Dream to Dare_."

Dad's eyebrows rose. He slapped his knee, saying, "That is exactly what he told me he was going to call it. I just did not think he would ever use it. He has a silly moniker he goes by. It is—"

I finished, "Darius the Extraordinaire."

"Ten out of ten, Alan Quinn. I knew I introduced you to him years and years ago, but I did not believe you would remember."

My voice quiet, I said, "I met him for the first time yesterday. He was a good man."

Dad said, "Was?"

Mom interrupted, "Well, your listening skills have not altered much. He was here in our house just the other night, which is where my story can continue if you will allow me to speak! You disappear for three weeks and still demand control of the conversation? I hope the bruise on your skull leaves a permanent mark."

Dad lowered his head like a sad dog. For a brief moment, he reminded me of Peaches when she would get caught tearing up one of my books.

Mom took the stage like she had done so many times in the past. She held the stone up like it was one of the props required for a fantastic monologue. An anxious feeling was rising in my chest as I waited for her to finally speak.

She said, "Darius came into our house at the request of your son. He entered with a box filled with a stone and tried to tell me it were going to help us open a portal to Dramamine or something."

Dad uttered, "Draio," but Mom's reaction made him regret it. He went back to lowering his head.

Mom continued, "I knew what he was trying to do." She took moments in her speech to cross stage left and stage right, carefully adding dramatic pauses in the right spots. "He was trying to convince me that everything you had been piping about was true."

Dad snuck a peak at her to see her reaction.

Mom said, "Well, I kicked him out, but he left this stone on our kitchen table. The last thing I remember," she stopped and omitted the part where she told me she wanted to divorce him, which I took that as a good sign, "is Alan walking the dog and then I woke up in our bed, but I was not alone—

"When the only thing I saw was that stone, I figured it would do something magical like you said. I was ready to believe," she said, prompting Dad to perk up. "For once, I thought my loving husband wasn't completely six marbles short of a—a—marble bag. I started to get the feeling it was telling me to search the town for you. I left when Alan went to school this morning. I took a walk."

Mom had explored Main Street. She went into Victor's and the few coffee shops around town. She saw all the fliers I had hung up even though she told me not to, but grabbed one and used it to show to whoever would listen. The stone gave her a new sense of purpose. It gave her hope, but then the story took a turn.

She said, "It lead me back to our neighborhood and down the street to the park, which has a gorgeous lake by the way. I walked around the lake and towards the forest. In the bright sunlight, I could make out these glowing blue marks on all the trees. It reminded me of a dream I had that Peaches was in. She was like a magnificent glow worm—never mind."

"I entered the forest. There were stickers on some of the branches and little plants that kept wrapping around my legs and tripping me over. I thought about turning around but it wasn't any use. I had already gone so far. Something in my being just knew I was going the right way."

I wanted her to stop her story desperately. What if she had seen something out there that would lead back to me? I wasn't prepared to talk to them about Andrew Lathon.

"Go on, honey," Dad said. "What did you see?"

"I came to a clearing where the trees appeared to be in a circle. In the center was a pile of sticks, but they were arranged to spell a word. It was s—"

I stood up in protest, "Don't."

Mom looked at me like I had committed a hate crime. I sat back down.

She continued, "It said _Stupid Face_. Some of the neighborhood kids had to have gone back there and set it up. To me, it was juvenile, but it was very poignant."

"How so?" Dad questioned.

She smiled at both of us, "It was poignant because I was being a stupid face. I turned around, miraculously found a trail of glowing ink that lead me back out of the forest, and walked home. Before I knew it, your stupid Jaguar was in the front yard. The town prince had finally returned home, leaving me feeling even dumber than before for relinquishing you of my doubt."

She threw the stone under the kitchen table. It slid against the wooden floor and smacked the wall, chipping some of the paint.

"Where were you, Reese?"

"Maggie, I—"

"Just say it."

"Davison and the boys have an apartment together outside of town in Dahlgren. I was with equals."

Not surprised, she said, "Equals? How cute. The boys got together to get away from the scary old witch of a wife your father has, Alan. I have the right mind to rip you apart with my bare hands."

"Things would go a lot smoother if you refrained from the body ripping," Dad said lightheartedly. "Things were not running well. I thought we could use a break from each other."

Mom relaxed her body, letting her guard down. She was slowly but surely accepting that Dad was home. She said, "All we have ever gotten is breaks from each other. My God, Reese, your son hardly knows who you are sometimes. You are a walking false hope and broken promise. How do you expect for us to go on living this way?"

Dad looked at me, "Is that how you feel?"

I nodded.

He said, "We will start fresh. We can move."

Mom stomped her feet, "You don't get it, Reese. We do not want to move anymore. This family has already found the soil. Now, it is time to dig our feet in and survive together."

Dad switched his focus back and forth between Mom and me. He said, "Then, we will."

Mom gave in. I watched them embrace and get mushy. It was refreshing to see them happy but having a front row seat to the _Ballad of Maggie and Reese_ was growing harder to bear. I worried it would never last.

I let them have their time together and went upstairs to enjoy the rest of my day off from school.

Peaches followed me into my room; probably to get some belly rubs. I thought to myself about the ramifications of Dad being home with Mom, getting along. There would be no more searching. Mom would stop drinking, hopefully. I wouldn't have to keep up with my sad little journal any longer. Then I started thinking long term. Mom and Dad could settle here. Ashton, Kansas might be that small town I call home when I go off to college. I'd come visit every couple of months and notice how much older my parents had become.

Of course, I was getting ahead of myself. I had to finish high school first. Perhaps, I had found a new friend in Vick. After all, I did show him who was alpha dog even if it was in an unorthodox fashion. LeCarre may have been on to something with me being the first person Vick saw when he woke up.

My heart fluttered. More fantasies flashed in front of my eyes. I could possibly date Jessica LeCarre. We could dance together at school gatherings. One day we could have a family and grow to be happy, boring individuals together.

Almost as quickly as my heart elated, it fell 1,000 feet down a dark hole. Jessica LeCarre's father wasn't human. He was a walking shadow in a human's body. His very existence along with Lathon's assured nothing about my life could ever be normal. There were no white picket fences or pleasant family dinners in my future.

Who knows? Maybe I would live long enough to witness the entirety of the Silhouette population on Draio moving to Earth. They could take over Dahlgreen and change its name to Draio. Everyone could be at peace, allowing me to live an easy life.

I waited for Lathon to appear. In the last few days, it was always when I was deep in thought that he would pop up to give me some useful, yet strange, advice. He never showed. It was nice.

Peaches moaned, reminding me that I had left her alone on the floor. She made a noise that said, "Rub my tummy!" She was no longer a mnemonic that my Dad had run away. She was the constant vision of something new.

A noise awoke me later in the evening. I hadn't realized I had dozed off. Peaches barked loudly and began to wiggle vigorously. In result, I fell off the bed. It was beginning to become one of my least favorite routines.

I crawled to my bedroom door to get a better listen, worried I was going to hear my parents once again having an awful fight, sending Dad back to his friends. The boards were creaking. I heard assorted giggles and guttural screams. What were they doing?

I wanted to avoid remaining in the dark like their last fight and ripped open my door and ran downstairs.

They were both on their backs in the middle of the living room with all fours sticking up in the air. Mom playfully made a mix between a puppy growl and a howl. Dad barked right back at her but a little less playful. He backed up ready to strike, but instead he walked over to her and licked at her face. It was just plain weird.

Something shiny and red caught my eye from the back of the room. I followed the light glowing on the walls into the kitchen where I found the stone lying next to the kitchen sink. It sparkled like a crystal ball, but maintained warm, rosy warmth. What was it doing? I did what every other curious kid would do. I picked it up.

My eyes shut. I was back in the land where the park, forest, and ocean met, but it was still completely empty. The sky above produced tiny fireballs that would land at my feet. Somehow, though, I was freezing cold. I had to do everything not to wrap my arms around myself to protect from the wintery blast the fireballs were creating.

I admired the landscape. How could anyone live here without shelter or water or something resembling food? It was a sad, dark place. I wondered why I'd returned.

Lathon appeared next to me. His presence alone intensified my emotions, filling me with hate, sadness, and happiness all at the same time. I wasn't sure how it came over me.

He said, "Do you realize what this place once was?"

I shook my head, refusing to hear another word. I wanted to return to the real world, away from that hell.

"This, my dear boy, was once my home. There were children here, an entire animal kingdom separate from your own, families, homes, and a wonderful castle to oversee it all. An entire world gone overnight, care to guess why?"

My suspicions were too painful to process.

"The government turned its back on the species who built it. The Silhouettes were locked into cages. The only ones allowed to live freely were me and one other female Silhouette who was granted the right to teach some of the children. They must have thought that translated as civility."

"I enjoyed every minute at first. It was nice to have my pick of the hangouts the rest of us used to play at. I was allowed to do whatever I wanted, but I had to give back. It was worse than slavery."

I turned to him, "Wh-wh-what did they make you do?"

"Do not worry. I played it up to impress them, but I did nothing to threaten the lives of my people. It was, however, very painful to watch my friends be locked up and tamed like they were animals."

"Alan, none of what you see before you is real. This is just how you perceive the hologram created by Darius' stone, but I do not believe you are ready to see what is left. The dream chasers are crafting a terrible plot. LeCarre and I spied on them while you were playing catch up with dear old dad. Speaking of that—"

I backed up, ready to run if there had been any direction I could have gone in. It was an empty oasis.

"Reese has been compromised. I cannot readily identify what they have done with him, but he is a killing machine. They have trained him to hunt down all of the Silhouettes that are hiding on this planet and execute them."

I didn't want to believe it. I said, "That's crazy. I mean, how many of you are there?"

"Currently, LeCarre and I are the only ones living in Ashton, but there is a small tribe in what you humans call London, England. I will soon be going there to warn the others of the atrocious crime that has been committed against Darius. It is your job to see that your father stays in Ashton."

I wanted to bowl him over, "How exactly am I supposed to do that? I have school, Mom is excited to see him home, and—why must you ruin this for me?"

"He has her under a spell. It has been carefully crafted since the dream chasers followed you to Ashton," he said. "The way to keep him here is to keep the dream chasers in check. LeCarre will assist you with this. He is fully prepared to show his true form and take them out. If the fighting gets too heavy, you will be able to call for me and bring me back."

"How could we possibly keep them from leaving with just the two of us?"

"If you can figure that out, I will gladly have you enrolled at the school that remains in Draio. We need new recruits."

With that he faded into dust, leaving behind a shiny white light that engulfed the area until I was back in the kitchen still holding the stone in my hand.

The fridge opened up, startling me. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. I could see him in my peripheral.

Dad took a swig of orange juice from the carton, "What are you up to, Alan? Day dreaming again?"

I spoke tersely, "Oh, you know, traveling to distant planets and joining another race."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Dad laughed hysterically. I no longer felt comfortable having him in the house even if Lathon was making things up. At the same time, I wasn't sure how the stone transported me. What was it and what kind of power did it hold?

He stepped up to me. His hand was dangerously close to the butcher knife lying in the sink from the night's dishes. He grabbed the stone out of my hand and studied it, "This is some kind of dream stone. I saw it in one of Darius' earlier works. It is good to have one of these by your bed on a sleepless night. Dream stones can make you see and, well, believe anything."

Pretending to be clueless, I said, "Oh, can they?"

"They also can cause you to get into a lot of trouble if you look too far into what you see."

"Trouble?"

"Lots of trouble. The kind of trouble that can lead you to be horrifically murdered with this butcher knife."

With that, he turned his attention to me. We were in a complete stare down. He said, "Now, you would not like to get into a lot of trouble, would you?"

I instantly realized that I was going to need Lathon's help quicker than I assumed. Everything I witnessed in my vision was coming true before my eyes. But, just as quickly as I could have flipped a light switch, his expression went back to playful.

He said, "A son of mine needs to lighten up, eh? Most of my dream studies are myths I either study or debunk. The dream stone definitely falls under the debunk category." He lightly tossed the stone into his other hand, saying, "You look like you have seen a ghost. Come in the living room with your Mom and I, would you?"

Dad walked out of the kitchen. Cautiously, I grabbed the butcher knife and threw it away in our trashcan. I didn't want to give him an idea that would bring the killer out. I hoped I was being silly and falling prey to hallucinations, I really did, but I was starting to question who it was I was supposed to trust.

Mom and Dad were in each other's arms at the couch acting completely normal. Mom had a wide grin on her face I had not seen in quite sometime. In fact I had never seen them this happy outside of their wedding photos.

She said, "Tomorrow, I want you to skip school. You and your dad are going to explore the town since he hasn't really gotten a chance to see it with an expert," she winked. "I want you two to have a day to yourself. I think it'll be good for our family and especially good for you, Alan."

Dad nodded his head, "What do you say? We have not spent a day together in quite some time."

I thought about the town and the dream chasers and how hanging out with Dad could all be an elaborate trap. The whole idea sent my head into a spin, but I desperately wanted to spend time with my dad. It was something that I had been hoping for a long time. I loved spending those days with my mom, but I always was unhappy to know Dad hardly ever wanted to spend time with me. It at least felt that way most of the time."

"Well?" he said.

The two of them smiled like excited six year olds finding out that the family plans to go to Disney World for summer vacation. Was I going to be the grumpy old dad to turn them down? I looked from left to right, from Mom to Dad.

I had never had to question skipping a day at school so thoroughly.

I said, "Sounds fun. Couldn't have come up with a better idea myself."

They both cheered like they had won a horrible lifelong battle: the troops were coming home. I knew they were being silly, but it made me tear up. I was going to spend a day with my father like a normal kid. It was something I had been waiting for my whole life from the time we lived in Brazil to the short time that we spent in London. It was always what I truly wanted.

What was the worst that could happen?

# CHAPTER TWELVE

I woke up around ten o' clock thankful that I got to sleep in a little bit. The scent of bacon and eggs crept in under my bedroom door, demanding that I get down stairs immediately. It was almost intoxicating, much like the grilled cheese Dad made me yesterday. I hoped Dad planned to prepare all of my meals for now on.

I stormed down the steps, stopping just a ways from the front door and found my parents sitting at a fully loaded table. A plate of smoky, crisp bacon took center stage while a pile of scrambled eggs occupied the next plate over. Two pitchers of freshly squeezed orange juice held their place at the different ends of the table. Dad was holding a plate of toast that he evenly allocated to each of the plates arranged for the three of us to eat. I had never been so happy to be starving.

Peaches, who had chosen to sleep on the couch the night before, brushed past me to get to her shiny food bowl just outside of the kitchen opening. All of the Quinn's were clambering for a good meal.

Mom and Dad must not of seen me standing there. Their eyes were locked in a flirtatious battle. Dad set down the remaining plate of toast and sat at the head of the table. He used his free hand to grab my mother's. They were so intent that I thought I better return to my room to give them their much-needed time, but I wasn't fast enough. Dad saw me in the corner of his eye and motioned for me to join them at the table.

"We are not going to eat all of this food by ourselves, are we?" he said.

Mom laughed and began reaching for all the food, saying,"Speak for yourself."

I took my place next to Mom and filled my own plate, taking two pieces of bacon and a decent mound of scrambled eggs that I promptly filled the inside of two pieces of toast with to make a decent bacon and egg sandwich. I started out slow, only eating a few bites to savor the taste, but my stomach wouldn't allow it. I scarfed the rest and washed it down with a glass of orange juice and I was in Heaven, or was it Draio? That was certainly becoming a pesky grey area.

Dad decided to headline the family conversation, "So, what is the first order of business, Alan?"

I said, "What do you mean?" as I grabbed for seconds.

"Our little adventure around town. Where to first? Are we going to hit up the hip hangouts?"

Mom hit his arm, "Gosh, you sound like a geezer. No one calls them 'hip hangouts' anymore."

Offended, he said, "I found _you_ at a 'hip hangout.'" They smiled at each other like it was there own special secret. That was one I wouldn't have minded for them to keep to their selves.

I said, " _Victor's_ is a nice place. We could go there first and—oh, oh, there is a nice café directly across the street called _Red Hearts Café._ "

Mom snorted, "You certainly go to _Victor's_ a lot."

Dad set down his fork, "This town does not play around when it comes to their _Alice in Wonderland_ shtick. I wonder how a store called _Victor's_ snuck past them."

"Well, figured it was because that was the name of the owner," I giggled, "I should bring that up to the LeCarre's. They love making fun of the _Alice_ stuff."

Dad flinched at the mention of their names. Almost as quickly, he noticed what he had done and turned his attention back to his food.

Breaking the awkward silence, Mom said, "Well, I don't know about you guys but I am going to enjoy my day. I sense a good book and a few naps in my future," she winked at me, "Wine free."

That was terrific news. Mom was beginning to resemble a train wreck whenever she would drink. Although, I did think I was going to miss her lunatic renditions of classic Broadway tunes.

Dad's mood shifted. He couldn't have been less enthusiastic. It made me think I had said something out of turn. He half-heartedly congratulated Mom on her simplistic plans, but had lost a little spring in his step.

"Is something wrong, Dear?" Mom said.

He laughed loudly, "No, nothing is wrong." He widened his grin upon seeing that neither of us believed him. "Ok, I do not mind the LeCarre kids. The kids are great, but their father is a hack. A total whack job."

"You are one to talk," Mom scolded his arm, "Besides, Alan may not agree with you. You should watch what you say about people in front of him."

I said, "How do you know what Mr. LeCarre does? He is my history teacher. I think he is plenty serviceable." I left out that I tended to sleep in his class.

Dad said, "He does not broadcast it, but he studies dreams as I do."

Mom was still unconvinced. I was too busy trying to figure out his angle. Where was he going with this?

Dad continued, "Darius and I were not the only people out there in our field. It actually expands pretty far," he paused, to allow my mother to stop her snickering, "There are even groups of people in London that work like I do. That is why we could not stay for very long. We were invading their territory."

My heart rapidly began to pound against my chest. Every time I believed Dad was normal again, he would say something that would remind me of the warnings that Lathon provided me concerning Dad's motives. Was Dad talking about actual colleagues or was he talking about—why couldn't the world slow down for me? The colleagues he referred to had to be the Silhouettes at the pub he always used to carry on about.

"Anyways, LeCarre was located in Ashton, so we hardly saw anything wrong with moving here. It is like American football without all of the tackling or, well, I guess it is nothing like American football. The point is that there are winners and losers in every field and LeCarre is a loser."

Mom shook her head, "You sound like a child."

"Well, I would not be nearly as much fun if I did not."

I attempted to keep the ideas from pouring into my head by taking my dishes to the sink. I learned something that I had yet to consider. The cities, the countries, the towns that we moved to were not chosen at random. They all had one thing in common and if Silhouettes were one of those factors, it pained me to finish the thought.

There must have been a Silhouette in every place that we have lived. We barely stayed in London because there were too many of them to handle on their own. The dream chasers were not just following us because they wanted to be around my family, they were using us to bring the Silhouettes out of hiding so they could—murder them?

Ashton isn't any different. They came here to hunt down LeCarre. Did they consider their families? Jessica and Gerry were only my age living without a Mother to watch over them should something happen to their Dad. The dream chasers were becoming worse in my eyes by the minute. They had to be stopped.

Dad joined me at the sink, stacking his empty plate on top of mine. He said, "I am sorry about what I said. I know you think he is a good guy. You have a little romance brewing with his daughter, do you not?"

"Maybe. Not sure I want to talk about it."

He knowingly elbowed me, "That is my boy. Finish getting ready and we will head into town."

I left him in the kitchen and walked back to the dining room to give Mom a kiss on the forehead. She said, "You'll have fun. Just stay out of trouble."

She could not possibly know what she was getting me into.

It didn't take anytime at all to get ready. I threw on a white undershirt and a pair of jeans I had worn a few times already in the week along with my grey converse. I was pleased that I could leave the satchel behind. I wouldn't need to pass out any fliers any longer. I imagined the people of Ashton would be grateful for that.

Dad was waiting for me at the front door in casual plaid button-up and khaki pants. I was accustomed to him wearing suits even when he was out in the field studying dreams or whatever was involved in his profession, so that was unusual.

"Want to take the Jaguar out for a spin?" Dad said, jingling his keys in my face.

I dismissed the offer, "The town is close enough to walk."

"I will let you drive."

"I'm thirteen."

He shoved the keys back in his pockets and laughed, "Thank you for clearing that up. I almost made a horrible mistake, did I not?"

I'm glad he thought he was a comedian. We walked through our messy front yard and towards the main road. Dad made a note that now that he was going to be around a little more often we should probably invest in a lawn mower. He quipped that I did not have to be thirteen to man one of those. His jokes were just getting funnier and funnier by the minute.

One thing I could not take away from him was how happy he'd become since the events of those last few weeks. Even when he had his story telling sessions he had a bit of tragedy behind his voice, but this was different. The Dad I used to know certainly would never have waved at passing traffic like they were old friends. He would wave and they would honk back in glee. The people of Ashton certainly tended to be a friendly bunch.

We continued down the walkway, getting closer and closer to the bookstore. Dad attempted to drum up conversation, "What do you think of this place, Alan?"

I said, "Ashton? I guess it is ok. It isn't London or Brazil, but it is home."

He pointed up at the sky, "Not many places are, but that is not what I meant. I meant Earth."

The question instantly gave me a headache. "Excuse me?"

He said, "You are young so I would understand if you were not sure of it yet. I knew when I was your age that I was more focused on girls and action figures, but one day you are going to have to make a choice."

"What choice?"

"Is it not obvious? Earth or no Earth."

I put on my best "What the heck are you talking about?" face and kept moving. Was he trying to impress me or was he talking about Draio? I didn't think I would get used to those little chats, and I was not sure that was something I wanted. One second I had Dad and the next I would have someone that sounded more akin to Andrew Lathon. Wouldn't that have been funny, I thought, to have Lathon as a father? I shook the idea away and stayed on course.

Dad became increasingly excited as we neared closer and closer to Victor's. He was like a little kid on the way to his first roller coaster. I was beginning to think that, in those circumstances, the two shared a lot of qualities. Dad running away was the train car climbing the big hill, but having him back was the actual ride. Dad was already completely unpredictable, so how I could possibly know how he was going to react once we got inside the bookstore.

When _Victor's_ was just a few blocks ahead of us, Dad ran past, exclaiming, "Well, what are you waiting for? Come on!"

Running was not one of my favorite activities, considering I had been doing a lot of it lately, so I let him have the head start. I instead inhaled a breath of the fresh air. I was out of school after all. I was able to put off that awkward range of conversations I was sure Vick and I were going to have now that he thought I knocked him on his butt. Even more exciting, I did not have to confront Jessica for whatever reason I had upset her. Perhaps, she would let everything go once she realized I got Dad back. I never knew with her.

I watched Dad enter the store, hopping like he was a kangaroo or a rabbit. He was really starting to push the strange level to the edge. I stopped at a power line to pull one of my fliers down. It was posted next to an advertisement for the book signing Darius had the day before.

A hand tapped me on my right shoulder, but when I turned around there was no one there. A few older people walked past me and into the bookstore but none of them were close enough to have touched me.

"Lathon, is that you?" I whispered.

"Who else could it be? Your invisible best friend, Sam?" Lathon whispered back.

I responded, "I'll have you know that I have more invisible friends now than I care to count," but I realized at the last second that I was talking a little too loudly. A couple walked by who caught my whole speech and mumbled together that they always knew my family was out of their marbles. I guess not everybody can be friendly in this town.

Lathon said, "Go into the alleyway, so we can talk a little more privately."

I could barely make out his vapory figure as I followed him into the alleyway. I looked over at the door of the bookstore, hoping I wasn't taking so much time that my Dad would get worried. It was supposed to be our day together after all.

Lathon waited until we were out of earshot of the main street before he said, "Ok, would you be more enthused to gather the bad news or the very bad news?"

I had never been asked that question in that manner. I said, "Was there no good news this time?"

Lathon appeared in his solid form. He said, "Would you prefer I called it the very bad news and the better but still pretty awful news?"

"That is better, I suppose."

"You are completely ridiculous."

I thought he was one to talk. Frustrated, I said, "Just out with it already!"

"I will begin with the very bad news. That man really is your father."

"Of course he is and how is that the very bad news?" I said, scratching my temple. "Of all the things that have gone terribly wrong these last couple of weeks, I would say that is the best news I have received. Try again."

He pushed me up against the wall. Red eyes flashed out of his shadowy face, "You clearly do not understand, Alan Quinn. That man has been lying low with some of the most heavily trained Silhouette hunters that have been or will ever be on this Earth. If they even get wind that I have been around, they will hunt me down and deliver a fate worse than that of Darius."

I winced. I didn't remember ever telling Lathon about the way Darius died, but he probably had some kind of mind power that allowed him to figure it out.

"I know you do not like to talk about that night, but you have to realize what we are up against. Your dad could easily have been wired to be one of the most dangerous weapons on this planet and you are bringing him into crowds of people! Yes, Alan, this could be going world wide and if we do not put an end to this soon, this could mean the end of Draio too."

I brushed his hands off of my shoulders, "I thought Draio had already ended."

His shadowy form flew towards a big, rusty dumpster at the end of the alleyway and blew a hole through the center of it, sending the individual sides a few yards down the alleyway. It definitely got the point across that he was trying to achieve.

His back to me, he said, "If we do not have anything to fight for, to hope for, what is the point? I am here because I believe we can still rebuild it. It is savable, Alan, and if you are not on board then I will briefly mourn your passing when doomsday begins before I am dealt my own permadeath because we are not going to be able to save the both of our worlds without you."

He switched back to a vapor and moved on towards the streets.

I ran after him, "Lathon, I am sorry. You have to realize how all of this sounds to me. This is my Dad we are talking about. He means the world to my mom and I, even when he treats us like us like he has."

Lathon stopped, "I know you are thirteen and that may seem young for a human, but sooner rather than later you are going to have to decide which is more important to you: the welfare of billions of people or maintaining your family unit."

I fell to my knees, ravaged with the thought, "Can we not fix him? Why can't I have both my Dad and everyone else? WHY DO I HAVE TO CHOOSE?"

He lightly slapped my face, "Quit your blubbering, Alan. The whole town will hear you."

Lathon switched back to solid form and helped me up. He used a shadowy finger to wipe away a few of my tears. He said, "I will do everything in my power to give your dad an opportunity to survive this, but LeCarre and I could not come up with a solution upon our last meeting. Well, one that was a sure thing."

My heart ached worst than it ever had. I had not seen Mom as happy as she looked this morning since we were in London. How would she react if she knew what had become of my father? Still, I had to hold out the hope that all of this would turn out ok.

I attempted to toughen up. I wiped away my tears and stood up straight. I said, "What is the better but still pretty awful news?"

Lathon laughed, "I never thought you would ask. The dream chasers know you and your father are on Main Street. They are coming to set him off because they are running out of time."

"How is that better news?"

He laughed even harder, "This is better news because they are not aware that I or LeCarre will be waiting for them. It is time to take them out and, if all goes well, we might be able to put a stop to this. If we fail, it is going to be very bad. So, I guess you were right. This could go either way."

The anger rising in me at the thought of the dream chasers gave me a new sense of confidence. I puffed out my chest, "Let me help."

"I already have a task in mind for you," he said. "Ready to hear it?"

"Of course. I will do anything."

"You are going to be keeping an eye on your father until they get here."

Anti-climactic doesn't begin to describe the source of my disappointment. I said, "Seriously?"

"I am sure you have noticed random spurts where your dad is acting a little less like a human, have you not?"

The image of Dad hopping around on his way into _Victor's_ came springing into mind. I said, "So?"

"LeCarre and I believe having you near by slightly suppresses the urge for it to happen. We think that is why he has come back to you. Part of him is still there."

That had to be good news. If part of Dad was still trying to fight its way back to his family then we had to be moving in the right direction to cure him. The idea gave me a surge of pride. This had to work. There was no room for error.

Lathon faded into vapor, "I better tend to my rendezvous with LeCarre. Be strong Alan. No matter what happens, it has been grand to finally get a chance to meet you. May it not be our last."

He moved back into the street and deeper into the town. I made my way towards _Victor's_ with only one thought on my mind: Dad had returned to my family because part of him still lived. I was not going to let the dream chasers take that part away.

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I walked into _Victor's_ hoping to find my Dad in a corner reading a novella or drinking a cup of coffee from the complimentary coffee stand that occupied the front of the store, but instead everything had turned into complete pandemonium.

An odd number of bookshelves had been knocked to the ground. The associates were losing their minds attempting to get everything back together. Dad was standing in the middle of the store, waving his arms back and forth like he was conducting an orchaestra.

None of the people in the store noticed him. The owner, with his long shaggy beard, was assuring all of the customers that they must have filled all of the shelves with too many books. Every once in awhile he would look back at my father like he was out of his mind, but never once did it appear that he thought my Dad was responsible.

I grabbed Dad's arm. I said, "Uh, Dad?"

He tried to resist my grip by continuing to sway his arms left and right to his own internal rhythm. He said, "Yes, son?"

On each movement, a few more books would fly up and hit one of the bookstore associates in the head, knocking them into the fallen bookshelves. I had a feeling they weren't going to ask us back anytime soon whether they thought Dad had anything to do with it or not.

Dad smirked, "Oh, is this an issue? I am just looking for a good book. It is tough to find good customer service these days, Alan."

A few harsh screams of disgust pour from a group of customers on their way out of the store. An older woman said, "This is the worst experience I've ever had at _Victor's_."

My Dad retorted, "You are telling me? This is my first time here. Imagine how that makes me feel."

He dropped his hands by his sides and went up to one of the mound of books to pick up a novel that was the size of an encyclopedia. It had a worn binding, but that had no effect on its bright blue cover. I was just far enough not to be able to make out the title. Dad's eyes widened as he flipped through the pages. He slowly scanned each page, but when he got to a certain point of the book he turned back to me and grinned.

"What?" I said.

"Want to see how fast I can read this book. It is nothing short of remarkable, I assure you," he said as he flipped through the entire book in seconds flat. I shook my head, trying to act uninterested in Dad's new ability. It did, however, make me curious if he was actually internalizing any of it.

He got to the very last page and slammed it closed. "Well, that was a waste of time," he said as he tossed it into the air in my general direction. I caught it before it could sail over my head. He scoffed, "See what you can make of it."

It was a copy of one of the books Darius and he had worked on together. It was called _Draio Do You Love me?_ and it had a emblem in the middle of the book with a giant pencil covered in different smaller emblems. The comedy/drama masks I knew from studying some theatre was at the bottom of the totem pole, but the masks were designed to resemble wolves. A smaller pencil was the next image up with a lightning strike through its middle. The next image was a big fist that reminded me of the _Incredible Hulk_ , but the image at the very top was a pallet of paints with images of skulls in place of the paints.

It covered every major elective from school: Drama, Creative Writing, Art, but I couldn't make heads or tails of the giant fist. If anything, I would have put the skulls on the fist. It still would have made little sense, but it could have made it look cooler. On the other hand, my experience with kids like Vick made me associate violence with idiots.

I opened the book. Upon skimming over a few lines, I realized what this actually was: a full account of what it is like for a Silhouette to live on Draio. How could a book like this just be available to buy all of this time without everyone talking about such a magical story?

The pages I read were the preface. The first few lines went as this:

Ever imagine yourself drifting off to another world when you close your eyes to sleep? Who does not? What if you were told that there was only one world that you drift to when you dream? You, of course, would tell me that I had gone bonkers. You would defend your imagination with all of your might! Draio is that world, dear child. It can appear any way you choose it too...

At the bottom of the page was my Dad's signature. He had signed it. All of this time and I had no idea that he had helped write any published books? I could have spent all of the time I had spent whining about him not being around reading, preparing.

I flipped to the table of contents. It was set up into four major sections: _Awduron, Actoria, Arlun_ , and _Diffo._ They were all silly names but they each had those same symbols from the front of the book next to them. They sounded like factions and clubs.

The next page had a biography of the author, Darius. It read:

Darius(1786-1867) was born in Boston, Massachusetts and spent the better part of his natural life obsessed with imagination and the effects it has on dreaming. Not allowed to attend schools due to the racial prejudices of his time, he chose to educate himself. When questioned about the origins of all of the radical thoughts that sprung from his tongue with certainty, he told his oppressors that it all grew from the garden that was his mind. He joined the Union forces for Ulysses S. Grant in 1864 with a promise that if he served his countrymen, he would be allowed to write this book and get it published for all to read. At the end of the war, he spent two years completing the manuscript only to have vanished days before its release. Assuming his death, he was given a burial service on October 31, 1867. His family members believe they have provided their husband and father with an honorable...

Reading it made me giggle to myself. It said in plain writing that Darius had died years and years ago, but people still showed up for his book signings. It made me wonder if Darius had found Draio when he disappeared. When did he come back? This book, I guessed, was a little less known but now he had crazed fans who couldn't wait to get a chance to meet him. It pained me to know they would never get another chance.

The manager of the store came up to me. I noticed from a closer distance that the suit he had on was a little worn. His shoes were puke green. His nametag read " _Hi! My name is Brian._ He said, "Alan, is it? I saw you at the Darius signing."

"Yes."

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. He said, "Is your Dad ok?"

I didn't know what to say. "My Dad has been kidnapped by dream chasers" doesn't necessarily flow off of the tongue. I instead said, "He's never been better."

I tried to look around for Dad who remained to be seen. Curiosity overcame me with wondering what he had finally done to make the manager think he was involved in the growing mess in the store. In the center pile of books and surrounded by associates, Dad's head popped out.

"I am swimming in a pool of knowledge, Alan," he exclaimed as he pretended to be doing the backstroke.

Lathon had warned me, but he noticeably left out the details that my dad was going to be slowly changing into a child with too many powers. I quickly walked over to Dad to pull him out of the pile.

I said, "Come on, Dad. They are staring."

He tried to resist, "They clearly know talent when they see it, Alan."

He glanced around at the furious workers. For a brief moment he appeared a touch apologetic. He picked up a stack of books and climbed out of the pile, letting other books and torn pages fall off of his person. He took the stack to a particularly nervous associate as he said, "Here you go. This should get you started."

The associate, freckle faced and pasty skinned, nervously laughed but couldn't keep his eyes off of my Dad. He was afraid.

Dad looked back at me for confirmation of the situation, but I didn't know what to say. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the associate, "You might want to begin."

Dad brushed past me on the way to the coffee shop, muttering to himself, "You just can not find good help these days."

If the situation were not so serious, I would have had a hard time keeping myself from finding the humor in it. Seeing that my Dad was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, I had very few moments set aside for laughter.

The manager met him at the café and poured a mug full of coffee. I heard him say, "I apologize for your experience, sir. I assure you this is not how _Victor's_ does business."

Dad graciously accepted his coffee and sat down at one of the open tables setup in the café lobby. I watched the associates as they put all of their might into picking up the first few bookcases. I heard one of the boys say, "Wouldn't it be funny if it was ghosts that did this?," and I thought that if he only knew what he was witnessing, he would have run as far away from this place as he possibly could.

Afraid they might recruit me to help with cleaning efforts, I walked over to the front registers to check out the comic collection they had set out. Before I could pick up the first one, the associate behind the register beat me to it.

"You are that kid that met Darius, right?" he asked. He couldn't have been much older than me but he was big enough to fill four of me. His nametag read: _Camrick._

"Well, did you?"

I tried to ignore him. I picked up an issue of _The Amazing Spider-Man_ and barely got the cover open before he interrupted me again, "They say he never made it out of Ashton. I was just wondering if you knew what happened to him."

His tone was almost accusatory. He pulled the glasses that sat on his large face and whispered in my ear, "Strange things are happening in Ashton. Do you not think it is coincidental that your Dad is back? Do not think this goes unnoticed around town. I may be the only one who talks about it, but I think Darius was murdered. Give it a few days before it is on the news."

I gave him a non-committal look in an attempt to get him off my back. I sat the comic book back on the rack and walked away, saying, "My family doesn't have a television."

"Oh, I was just joking anyways."

I hardly got much attention when Dad was missing. The last thing I need is for the crazies to bother me. I looked back at Camrick, wondering if he knew more than—usual. Lathon did mention that there were a lot of Silhouettes out in the world. How many of them were children? Camrick gave me a nod almost like he knew what I was thinking. Maybe I had found an ally. I shook the silly idea out of my head and went over to check on my father.

He was stuck in thought, holding his coffee up to his lips I could only assume to inhale the roasted aromas. His joyous eyes had faded into fury.

"The Silhouettes will rise. The King must fall," he said.

It was the same phrase I heard before I met Lathon in the woods. Dumbstruck, I begged him to repeat it.

His eyes sprang into enthusiasm, " _Victor's_ was cool and all, but I am going to need something a little more exciting to justify the outrageous amount of coffee I am about to consume."

With that he turned the mug upside down over his mouth. He swallowed every last drop and didn't once acknowledge how that might have been the single most painful experience of all time. My insides felt like they were burning as I watched him.

"Dad?"

He leapt out of his chair and on top of the table. Pretending to give his speech to a thousand on lookers, he shouted, "Ladies and Gentlemen, when—," he turned back to the manager who was still hovering in the coffee shop probably trying to figure out what crazy things my dad was going to do next, "What is your name again?"

"Brian, sir."

Dad said, "Clever," and turned back to the associates who were growing impatient. "When Brianna gave me this free complimentary coffee, it came off as a cheap gesture for what I can say is one of the worst experiences I have ever had in a bookstore. But, now that I have had it in its entirety, it was all kind of worth it in the end."

He bowed for everyone left in the store, which at that point did not include any customers. My face burning scarlet, I reached my hand up to help him down.

"Dad, I think we should leave," I said.

He accepted my hand, "Astute suggestion, my dear boy. Although, I feel if things get any worse I may get another free cup of coffee and it could make this trip to _Victor's_ even better."

I looked at how miserable everyone was and pushed him out of the building until he walked out on his own. As we left, Brian went behind us and locked the doors and hung up a handmade sign that stated they were closed for the rest of the day due to repairs.

I was already thinking babysitting Dad was going to be way worse than imagined. Now, I was thinking the fate of the whole planet was resting on the balance.

A few cars drove by as we neared the street, but Dad wasn't concerned. He continued his goofy wave he was doing prior to when we went into the store, but this time he promptly followed it by walking directly in front of the moving traffic. I called after him, "Dad! Please stop," but he kept moving completely oblivious to any danger he may have been in.

He surprised me when he got half way across. He switched into an extremely fast glide none too different than what I had seen Lathon or Darius do. "What was Dad when he lived on Draio? What was he now?" I thought to myself.

I remembered my duty as dad watcher and ran after him, but I had to start and stop in coordination with the passing vehicles of death. They were at least friendly to me as they sped past with smiles and waves.

I made it to the other side safe and sound as Dad walked in to the _Red Heart's Café_. I kept my distance so not to set him off into crazy mode. Wrapping my head around how he was changing so quickly was next to impossible. It was almost like he was part Silhouette.

I watched him from one of the windows. He was shaking hands with a few of the hungry guests and seeing them to their tables.

A jingling bell signaled the door to the restaurant had opened up, but I didn't see anyone come out. A bodiless hand patted me on the head.

"Lathon?"

"You are doing a grand job. He has only called more attention to himself than the gods themselves."

I knocked his hand away from my head. "You told me he would be a little different," I said. "You didn't tell me he would be—"

"More like me?"

"Precisely."

He remained silent as he allowed all of the answers to my questions hang over my head.

"Dad was a Silhouette? Is he wearing a man suit like LeCarre?"

Silence.

"Mom was one too, I bet. That would make me—"

I watched his vapor form move in the air. He said, "Far from it. There are more important things in this life than knowing the origins of something. What is with you humans and having to know where it all began? How does that help us with what is happening now?"

The slight irritation in his voice reminded me that Lathon had never mentioned parental figures in his life. I wasn't sure if Silhouettes had them. Everything had to have a creator, didn't they?

He continued, "In due time, if there is due time, we can talk about your parents' life on Draio. It may even be a precursor to the experience you will have."

Caught off guard, I said, "I am going to be on Draio? Isn't it dangerous?"

"Hard to be dangerous when there is nothing there, is it not?"

I nodded my head. To think I could possibly be a part of the movement to restore the dream world was too fantastic for words, but something so marvelous could be nice.

The sight of LeCarre sitting down by my father interrupted my small daydream. Neither of the men were pleased to see each other, but they were carrying a deep conversation.

"What is LeCarre trying to do?" I said.

After a brief silence, Lathon responded, "This is one of those times I will not be able to effectively communicate the plan to you. There is a problem of interests to consider."

I didn't like the sound of that at all. I wanted to bust into the café and break up their conversation. I hardly cared what that could bring on because I wasn't going to let them kill him. I made my way towards the door, but Lathon pulled me back.

"Careful, boy. We would not want to set him off."

I struggled with all of my power, but his grip was too tight. "Can you not do this without hurting him?"

"We are trying our best. Understand that you are not the only one with emotional stakes in this. He was our friend, too."

I watched as LeCarre waved his hand over my Dad's face, freezing him in his place. No one inside paid any attention to the action, but my eyes were glued open. This was the second time that the last chance to save him had come up. Before my eyes, he could die or worse—become a monster.

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

My anxiety was at an all time high. Lathon kept me from entering the café to at least witness what LeCarre was doing to my father to make him better. All in all, I could not shake the feeling that this was all about to blow up in our faces. As LeCarre continued to wave his hands in front of Dad's face, causing him to sit in a state of rigor mortis, I decided I could no longer watch and backed away from the window.

I stepped back to the power line right outside the café. "Lathon, if there is nothing I am allowed to see then is there anything we can be doing? Are the dream chasers not on their way to town?"

"You make a fantastic point, Alan Quinn. Let us go on a stake out!" he said as he nudged me toward the opposite end of town away from the direction of my parent's house. "You go this way and I will go the other."

"D-d-don't you think we should stick together? I can't think of what I would do if I saw them heading this way. What if they are driving? What do I do then?"

He laughed, "You need to learn to deduce when I am joking and when I am not if we are going to be spending time together." Once we were away from the sightline of the windows and clear from the nearest pedestrian, he allowed his solid form to appear. "Let us hunt down these barbarians as a team, eh?"

I knew he was making fun of me, but I continued down the street with Lathon in step. We passed the ten or so remaining buildings that made up the rest of Main Street, Ashton. There were real estate offices, gas stations, a grocery store named _Hatter's_ , a few empty buildings, and a dating service business called _Don't Be Late For Your Very Important Date!_ It had a picture of a rabbit wearing a suit holding a watch twice its size as its mascot. I hoped I would never have a reason to go in there.

At the end of the street started a long road that, from my vantage point, appeared to be occupied with trees and vast nothingness. If the dream chasers were coming into Ashton, they possibly would be coming down that road. I wanted to be ready for the fight but I wasn't sure why those men wanted it to come to this. If the world was going to end, they were going to be on it when that happened. Nothing they did was going to change that. I also wondered what connection Draio had to Earth that would cause both places' downfall. I wondered if they had a bad past with my parents.

"You said you would tell me about my parents," I said. "Isn't this a perfect opportunity?"

Lathon kept moving as he glided just a few centimeters above the ground. He said, "You really want to open up that box right now? I warn you. Once it is opened, it does not close."

I shuffled my feet, "I want to understand why this is all happening. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Sometimes you are not meant to understand everything," he said, "Not everything comes with a clear cut answer. In some cases, questions can have multiple answers. When that happens, which answer is the correct one?"

I walked on disappointed. He was keeping something for me, but I had to decide if the fear it was giving me was worse than not knowing the truth about my parents.

Lathon stopped, "Is the fact that these men are filled with unfiltered hate for all creatures and all things not enough? Do they have to have a motivation to justify their actions? It does not change the fact that they committed these atrocities."

"I just want to—"

"Know what this all has to do with you? Absolutely nothing. I have explained before to you that this is much bigger than little Alan Quinn."

The last statement hurt. I said, "Darius was the one that said that to me—in the bookstore."

Short winded, he said, "Does that make it any less fitting. It doesn't matter who says it."

It was times like those that I wished the annoying, joyous Lathon would be around. The angry one was even less of a good choice for company.

A noise that sounded like car engines came from the curve of the road out of town. It was just far away enough that I couldn't make out the source. Lathon pulled me into the trees where I narrowly escaped a sticker bush. We sat down and waited.

"What is that noise you hear?" he asked.

"It is a car. It is what humans use to get around."

"Think again."

"I will not think again. That is the only thing that makes that noise unless—"

Before I could finish my thought, five blue blurs of light flashed around the corner and passed us into the town.

"What the—"

Lathon said, "It has begun," and grabbed a hold of me as we went sailing full blast into the air. We were flying. I was more than excited until I remembered my horrible fear of heights brought on by that awful plane trip I had to Brazil.

"Where are we going?" I shouted. "Please, put me down."

We didn't stop until he set me on the roof of the _Red Heart's Café_. But, he chose not to stay with me. He faded into vapor, said, "Stay put," and hopped to the ground where the members of the dream chasers were waiting to head inside. After all of that, he was going to have me waiting in the wings? I wanted to fight, but I didn't know how I was going to get down. With the chance the dream chasers may spot me, I could not risk yelling.

The dream chasers were once again dressed in all matching uniforms, but this time with navy blue long coats and sunglasses. I knew Jessica would appreciate how silly they looked if she was around. I did, however, wonder how people so evil had time to accessorize.

Davison spoke to his group, "Soon, this will all be over. We will have completed our missions and will be able to enjoy peace at last."

They all nodded. One of them, Daemon, was licking his lips for a wild fight. I had the hardest time trying to figure out why anyone would want to do something like this knowing it could result in their deaths.

The group began to head through the door, but it wouldn't open. I hoped Lathon had a more intricate plan than just inconveniencing them. Davison tried again to open it, but on the third tug, something knocked him over.

At first he looked surprised, but it quickly wiped away when it appeared he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He began saying, "We need to spread out," but the jingling of the bell resounded when leaving customers opened the door.

Davison got up and made a short sprint for the door but Lathon knocked him back over before he could get through. I was positive if anyone were paying attention they would be losing their patience with the grown men who kept messing with the door.

Sure enough, Martina, our waitress from the other day, walked outside. I could just see the top of her head but I knew by the sound of her voice that she was furious. She said, "What are you doing here? I thought I was very clear when I said I did not want you in our café."

I laughed at the image of Martina being the hero of the day. Maybe things were going to be even easier than we predicted, but then they grabbed a hold of her and drug her away to one of the alleyways that separated the café from the real estate office next door.

I heard a few shouts from the customers inside. They were saying, "Hey, what's the big idea," or "I want another refill, Martina." The dream chasers used the opportunity to get inside.

I panicked. Was this the end? What if LeCarre didn't finish whatever it was he was trying to do to help my father? I called out, "Lathon! Lathon!"

I got no answer but I noticed Martina was quickly walking back without the dream chasers who had taken her away. She had a cocky look on her face like she had only slightly been inconvenienced. She stopped right before the door and looked up. It was Lathon's voice that came out, saying, "I would never let them harm a woman," and continued inside.

A hush fell before a screaming match crescendoed. A few of the people inside shrieked, but then it went silent. I couldn't tell what was going on.

A sound like thunder swept over the building as it shook underneath me. Terrified people ran from the building, shouting, "Wizards! Sorcery!" I wanted to know what they had seen. Who was winning?

What was I going do from my place on the roof? Lathon and LeCarre were in there with the dream chasers but surrounded by people. Who was going to come out of there? What would it mean for the future of this world? I had to act.

I turned around to search for some way off of the roof. It was completely empty with the exception of air conditioning ducts in the middle. I quickly walked towards them to see if there was anything on the other side. To my relief, I spotted the top of a ladder at the edge of the building. I ran towards it and stretched a leg down until I could set it on the first step.

It was easy. I went step by step, nearing the street as I went. Everything was going well until I looked down. The road appeared to be a mile away and one false move would certainly have sent me to my doom. Of all of the places I could have used as a safe place, Lathon chose to force me to face my worst fears.

I started to climb back up, but that appeared to be even further of a distance. I was stuck and crying for help wasn't going to do me any good.

Another couple screamed from the other side of the wall as another loud boom shook the building. I had to act fast. Quickly, I closed my eyes and went down the ladder as fast as I could. I pretended I was going down any other pile of stairs and when that stopped working I tried to think of things that made me happy. I imagined Jessica's red hair hanging on her shoulders and Mom smiling with grace as she performed for a big crowd.

Before I knew it, I had made it safely to land. I was really ashamed when I looked up to find I hadn't traveled very far at all. I shook it off and ran down the alleyway to get closer to the action. There were at least fifty people in the street, but they were all standing still, locked in place like I was staring at a photograph. I couldn't imagine that many people fit into _Red Heart's_ but I didn't have time to think about it. I ripped open the café door and ran in.

The inside was clouded with smoke, making it impossible to see anything that was going on. Every now and then a light would flash deep inside. I was reminded of some of the magic that Lathon could do, other than that, there was nothing.

"Hello?" I called out, but no one responded. I doubted it would be easy to hear me with all of the debris. I shielded my face as best as I could and slowly progressed further into the building.

As I got deeper and deeper and the tables came into focus, everything seemed to be in its proper place. The smoke, though thick, had kind of a moist quality to it and made my lips tingle like I'd swallowed a mint.

As I began to feel safe breathing in the air, I put my hands out in front so I could avoid being knocked over by the building's furniture. That didn't help with anything on the ground level. The first obstacle in my way was a body lying on the far right section of the floor. I gasped at first, but, as I leaned down to try to make out whom it was, it became evident that the person was still breathing.

I felt around on his face and found the grooves in the goggles that Davison's men wore. I didn't know what else to do to clear the smoke, so I blew at it like it was a birthday candle. For a brief second it cleared, revealing Desmond, passed out on the floor, as the first unlucky winner. I was sure he would have called for help, but I didn't think there was a grunt for that.

I kept moving. I was positive the building couldn't be much bigger and I had to be getting close to Lathon, LeCarre, and my father. Was I prepared for what I would find?

"Lathon?" I called out. "Lathon?"

Slowly, the smoke began to clear, swirling back towards one source. I spotted a frozen, yet angry Martina sprawled out on the ground. A few paces away, a back table had three men in its seats: Davison, LeCarre, and Dad. LeCarre had his right hand facing Davison who appeared to be in mid fall, his chair tipping backward. Dad had his right hand around LeCarre's throat who was stuck in his own place, while Dad's left hand collected all of the smoke.

Lathon in his solid form had his arms around Daemon, stuck in the middle of a body slam. The only one that seemed to be in complete control was my father who shifted his attention to me.

"Alan," he said as he picked up a chicken finger off of his plate, "You mentioned this was good place to visit, but you never said the food was so delicious. You were trying to hide it from me you little devil."

Nervous for my life, I responded, "Yeah, that is me. Dad, what are you doing? Do you want to stop, maybe?"

Dad took in all of his surroundings. He said, "Taking control of my life, I suppose. I am in a perfect crossroads. I have the best of both sides and the fate of the world at my fingertips. I am part human. I am part Silhouette. I could really make a case for King of the World, would you not think?"

The phrase played in my head: "The King must fall. The Silhouettes will rise."

I held my hand to my ear, wondering why I wasn't hearing any sirens heading this way. I knew for certain one of the fleeing customers had to call the police into action. Someone had to stop Dad before he became too powerful.

Dad got up from the table and left everyone, Silhouette or not, frozen in place. He walked to me, but I backed away upon every step he took. I never thought I would be looking at my Dad in this light. I was generally terrified and defenseless.

"What have they done to you?"

He said, "What have they done to me?" Gesturing to the aftermath of their battle. Continuing, he said, "Alan, I mean you no harm. Please stop moving. All they have done is wake up my true self. I was a human that studied the art of the Silhouette. I can do anything they can do, but better because I have self control."

"Self control?" I pointed out our surroundings. "This is beyond self control. This is wrong."

"Ok, maybe I lost it a little, but in my defense they had made me pretty angry."

He walked away from me and rounded the table, studying each person. He said, "Every member of this table has a story. Lathon was the first Silhouette I ever met and I looked up to him. You could say I considered him a friend. But, he abandoned me when I needed him most."

Dad moved over to Lathon holding firm on his chokehold. He said, "Andrew Lathon. Did he ever tell you why he has a first name? It is because when all of the Silhouettes were being sealed in their cages, he was busy helping the high council lock them up. He was no longer fit for his Silhouette's name. They cast him out. He had to be given a human name. I was the one that named him Andrew."

I covered my ears. I didn't want to hear anymore. It was too painful.

Dad continued to Davison. He said, "Davison is the best and worst person in the room. Best because he nurtured me to help me remember what I once could do. Worst because he used it to help me murder so many."

"You didn't know," I said. "You couldn't have known."

A burning pain in my throat set in. I was fighting with all my might not to cry. I had to be strong. I had to.

"Brazil, Germany, England. They would scope out for Silhouettes that escaped the cages and lead me to slaughter them. The two in this room are worth quite the bounty on Draio. Their permadeaths are highly sought after by both sides."

He looked back at them, "This was never about destroying the world, Alan. It just ended up that way. If Lathon and LeCarre would go quietly with me back to Draio, this would all be over."

I looked into his eyes, searching for the hint of a joke that never arrived. I said, "Why is it important to kill the Silhouettes? They helped create Draio."

Dad turned back to me but lowered his gaze to my feet, "Before the Great War, they were hunting for our children, kidnapping them, converting them into hybrids. They are savages." He smiled, "If they won't come with me, there is another way. You can come with me back to Draio. The high council would be astonished to be in your presence."

"Wh-wh-what is so astonishing about me?"

"You are the offspring of a Silhouette hybrid and a shifter. Who would not be astonished?"

"A shifter? What is a shifter?"

Dad looked up with an expression akin to someone speaking out of turn. "A beautiful thing."

He placed his hand on Davison's head and whispered gibberish I could barely understand, immediately causing him to unfreeze and jump up. He looked back and forth between my Dad and I.

"Reese, this is our chance," he said. "We could take out the rogue Silhouettes for good."

"Yes," Dad responded, "Indeed."

He snapped his fingers together, generating a blue light in the center of Davison's chest that began to grow in place of his heart. Davison looked down at it and back up at my father, panic-stricken.

The blue light, not too different from the light I saw in the woods when I met Lathon, morphed into a miniature black hole that began to suck Davison inward. I shielded my eyes as best as I could but that couldn't erase the image of Davison vanishing into dust. How much more death was I going to be forced to witness?

Once Davison's body was gone, the black hole closed up. Dad enjoyed every second of it. He was applauding during the whole thing. Whatever his intentions, Dad had to be stopped.

He made his way towards Lathon and Daemon. He said, "What is the phrase? Two birds with one stone?"

Dad forced his hand into Daemon's chest. The frozen dream chaser sprung to life. His hand passed through without spilling blood to the ground and made it to Lathon who also began to shift. Daemon withered into dust on the ground. Before Dad could put an end to Lathon, the Silhouette exclaimed, "NOW!"

I did what any confused thirteen-year-old boy would do. I ran full speed at Dad, catching him off guard and knocked him as hard as I could into the closest pillar.

If I was lucky, he was unconscious. If I wasn't, I could be turned into a miniature black hole.

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LeCarre quickly ran to my side to study the state of my father who, for the most part, seemed out for the count. Lathon made a point to go straight for Desmond who still had not gotten up from the fight. The dream chaser noticed he was the only one left and grinned pleadingly at Lathon.

Always a man of few words, Desmond said, "Truce?"

Lathon tilted his head, probably contemplating whether or not to snap Desmond's neck but released him after all, "For now."

Desmond thanked his lucky stars and ran out to Main Street. Surprised, I looked at Lathon but he shrugged his shoulders saying, "He will not be able to do much without Davison who is sleeping safe and sound in Oblivion. Likewise, there are dead bodies outside in the alleyway that may need to be dealt with. A call to your police would be in order."

He joined LeCarre and I around my father. I was speechless. I could have gotten myself killed and put the whole world in danger if it had not worked. My forehead still ached from when I planted it into his chest.

A loud scream resounded from behind me. I jumped around and found Martina alive and awake. She said, "Is he ok? What's happened to him?"

I could not believe she had no idea what had happened. Was her memory wiped? Lathon realized she was going to go walk over to our direction and vanished.

Martina put her hand on my shoulder, "What happened? Do I need to call the police?" She turned her attention to LeCarre, "Did you do this to this poor man, you big bully?"

LeCarre chose to play along, "We were having a friendly debate about the state of the union and you know how those things go."

I held my breath as Martina contemplated the thought. She rolled her eyes back and forth like she was calculating sums and then looked back at us when she came up with her answer. She said, "Yeah those can get heated. Well, I will go get him some ice. Just to think, though, he has been missing from his family and he comes here to start petty fights over politics. He is just like every other man in this country. At least he is home, Alan. Right?"

I tried my best to put on a convincing smile, "Of course."

"Good," she said. She went off into the back kitchen to get some ice. LeCarre flicked his hand in her direction and the kitchen door locked itself.

"Ok," he said, "We are going to have to find a way to wipe his memory in order to prevent future mishaps."

"Wipe his memory? All of his memory?"

LeCarre said, "As long as he remembers his past, he is going to bend the universe at his will. You may hold a blind spot for your father, but I do not."

I watched my father. He seemed so peaceful. Nothing could bother him in his state. I said, "Would he forget my Mom and I?"

LeCarre and Lathon exchanged glances before LeCarre said; "We will cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we need to find a memory stone."

My mind kept zoning in on the stone that Darius brought into our house when he was visiting for dinner. I wondered what his true motivations were. I hardly knew him before he died. I said, "There is one at my house."

LeCarre shook his head, "I'm not going to ask. It is a touch problematic for us to enter your home, Alan. This might be on you. Are you up for it?"

The answer wouldn't come. My throat dried up with all of my nervous energy.

"You are our only chance. As long as he remembers his past, we are all in danger," LeCarre pleaded.

I mulled over the idea for a few seconds, but something kept furiously scratching at the back of my mind, "What did my dad mean?"

"Excuse me?" Lathon said.

"The thing that was so terrible that the whole world is at stake? He said the Silhouettes were caged because they were making hybrids. They were kidnapping children. It is why we are in our predicament, isn't it?"

Lathon motioned for LeCarre to answer the question, but it never seemed to arrive.

I stamped my foot as hard as I could against the wooden floor, "WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME? Every time I ask you a freaking question, all I get is a _tune in next time_ or a _check back later_. Is that a Silhouette thing? DO THEY NOT ANSWER SIMPLE QUESTIONS ON DRAIO?"

Lathon floated towards me and hunched down to my level. He spoke calmly, "Because it is not our place to reveal anything about what happened at that time. It does you no good to open every locked door. It would only make things worse and we cannot afford that to happen. We need everyone on deck, as they say."

"You can't brush something like that off. It isn't like I just asked you why you blew my candles out when I was six—never mind that. What happened on Draio and why does it involve me?"

LeCarre tried to calm me down, "Alan—"

"No. I am not going another step with you until you tell me the truth."

"Alan, if you will trust me, I promise I will sit you down and explain everything."

I hated having secrets kept from me, but I had to do everything in my power to resolve the crisis. I said, "Fine, I'll do it," and started to wake Dad up so we could go home. LeCarre waved his hands, making the few broken chairs and tables stitch themselves back together and land in their proper places. He unlatched the door that was locking Martina in the kitchen.

She came out with a bucket of ice and a rag, saying, "I really got to fix that thing. I could've been locked in there forever. So, how'd he fall?"

Lathon's body faded and LeCarre gave me a nod to insure I knew what I was meant to do. I nodded back and placed the ice-filled rag Martina gave me on my Dad's forehead. The two Silhouettes left the café, waving their hands over the heads of the customers who entered. They couldn't be less knowledgeable about the unconscious man on the floor. They, like Martina, appeared to have no idea what had happened. It was like the Silhouettes had wiped their memories.

Martina left me with my father and smiled, saying, "He will come around." She took her place at the front door and assured everyone that business would start up as soon as the staff came back.

I felt my Dad's head start to shift under the cold rag. His eyes fluttered open. Cautiously I stepped away, afraid of what I might find. He didn't address me as he stood up. He dusted off his shirt and finally set his eyes on me.

"Alan?" he said.

"Dad?"

He tensed his shoulders like all of the pain from the fall came crawling back. He laughed at himself and said, "I am going to have learn to control myself when I get excited, eh?"

He motioned for me to leave the café, and I lead the way. He gave me a friendly smile like he had not just murdered Davison. Maybe the bump on the head was enough. I didn't think we would have to use the memory stone, but I knew what I had to do.

Outside the café, Dad said, "I think we have seen enough of Main Street for one day. I hope you will not be too offended if we go back to be with your mom?"

"No, I think that will be alright. I am a little tired anyways."

On our way back home, the weather took a turn for the worse. Funnel clouds formed overhead, lightning struck with what felt like the strength of a million rapiers, adding a new feeling of dread that made me want to get away from all of it. I thought it might have been Dad causing the storm to appear but he looked inconvenienced when he looked up at the sky.

He chose to walk a few paces behind me. I couldn't help but feel he was going to switch personalities on the spot and kill me in front of the whole town quicker than he could make another one of his grilled cheeses. If I somehow managed to fix him, I wasn't sure if I would ever feel safe around him.

As the rain began to pour, Dad picked up on a jog and I followed suit. We cut into a sprint once we got to Hatter Circle and sped through all the bushes that were in our way until we made it to the house. I heard a loud shriek from inside. Worried, I burst through the front door only to find—nothing at all.

Mom was rolling around on the living room floor with Peaches. Every time Peaches would lick her face, she would scream as loud as she could, but with a giggly, child-like smile. Even worse, I didn't see the memory stone anywhere in the room.

Dad followed me in, bouncing around like a circus clown, which was none too different than the strange way he was acting in _Victor's_. I knew I had to act fast or he was going to have another personality turn. He shouted, "Bravo, Lady Quinn."

Mom got up on all fours and barked along with Dad's orchestrations. He snapped his fingers and Mom froze in place, her face stuck in a cheery glaze. Peaches attempted to bark, but only air came out. The only noise I could hear in the room was Dad's maniacal laughter.

"Let them go!" I yelled. "What are you playing at?"

He waved his hands, making Mom and Peaches chase each other's backsides like he was fast-forwarding a movie to the good parts. He mumbled the words, "She has to remember. As soon as she remembers, I will stop."

I didn't think I had another tackle left in me, so I stood in front of him in the hopes that I would throw him off.

"Get out of my way," he said. "This is important."

I held my ground.

Dad said, "Every moment your existence continues is detrimental to my health. You know this is your fault, do you not? Yes, Alan, none of this would be possible without you. If I had it my way, you would be eliminated. The Silhouettes may spin a tale of heroics for you, but they know as well that I am the key to the survival of both worlds. If they do not back off, they will be right about one thing."

My voice was shaky, I could barely whisper, "What?"

"Draio _will_ fall."

I couldn't allow myself to believe that he truly felt that way. I got closer and closer until his hand was directly against my chest. I'd definitely lost my mind, but I wasn't left with many options.

I wiped a tear from my eyes, "Then, do it."

He grinned, "Do what?"

"If this is what you have become, I don't want you to be my father. Eliminate me."

For a moment I thought this was it. I was going to die and it was all going to be for nothing, but a change in his manner revealed there was another side of him trying to fight through. He lowered his hand. His smile lowered into a tight frown. "I am sorry," he said.

He snapped his fingers together and everything went back into motion. Dad joined in with Mom's silly game she was playing with Peaches and rolled around on the floor. I could not take another second of Dad's mood swings, so I bolted as quickly as I could out of the room to hunt for the memory stone.

I went up the stairs and made my first destination their bedroom. If it wasn't in the living room, where else would Mom have put it?

I dug into the few drawers on Mom and Dad's dresser. There was no luck in my dad's sock drawer or the one where Mom kept her blouses. I wasn't about to put myself through the trauma of searching either of their underwear drawers. I picked up whatever clothes I had thrown to the ground and stuffed them back into the dresser as I closed it up gently.

I went to their bed and searched through each lamp table. I even looked under their bed where I could usually find random things they never use, but there was still nothing of interest. Where had she hidden it? I briefly searched the inside of their bathroom even going as far as looking behind the toilet, but I was relieved not to find it there.

I decided to change locations, but I paused in the hallway to make sure my parent's were still busy doing whatever it was downstairs. Both of them started howling along with Peaches, catching me off guard. What was happeneing to my family?

I assumed I was good as gold to continue searching. My next stop was my bedroom although I didn't quite know why she would have put it in there.

I got inside and locked the door, thinking they wouldn't expect anything out of me in my natural habitat. For all I knew, Mom and Dad were about to start up a game of Twister, or something, only to turn it into a game of "Don't Step on that Mine!" Dad had become so unpredictable that I thought it wise to push some of the chairs in my room up against the door. I definitely missed when my biggest worry was where we were going to move next.

"You are not so defenseless, mate," Lathon said as he appeared on the wall. He contorted his body into a sword and shield, "It just has to be awakened in you."

I stopped what I was doing and stiffened up, "What? You didn't trust me to handle this on my own? I thought you and LeCarre were going to be hands off on this one."

He jumped off the wall and into the middle of the room, "It is not that I did not trust you. I just thought you might need some words of encouragement. You know—from a friend."

I blew up with anger, "Please, go find whatever it is you need somewhere else. I have nearly died like fifty gazillion times in the past two days and, quite frankly, I do not think I can take it anymore."

"I know what is troubling you," he said as he completely ignored my protests. "You are worried that if we perform this on your dad he will forget you too."

It hurt too much to admit. I said, "Darius, Davison, they are dead because of him and I don't know whether to be happy for one or sad for the other. In the end, it is still murder. At the same time, I want my father back. I'd rather have stupid family trips to the countryside and picnics. I want the chance for him to be as proud of me as I am of him."

Lathon's voice lost some of its strength, "You c-c-could have some of that with me. I mean if he doesn't remember you?"

I didn't know how to respond to him. I resumed my search through all the furniture in the room to see if I could track down the memory stone. The idea of being raised by Lathon never occurred to me, but I could not let it. I had to believe that my Dad was going to come out on a good end of this. If not for me, it had to work for my Mom's sanity.

Lathon stopped me just before I started pulling everything out of my closet, "Alan, I have an idea as to the whereabouts of our stone. I know it will sound mad when I say it but it will seem simple in due time."

Fed up, I said, "Where?"

"First thing is first," he said. "We are going to have to come up with a plan to sneak her away from your parents. It is going to take a little bit of thinking, but I think we can manage it."

I protested, "No, you cannot be serious. Not her. She spit it up last time. It could not have stayed in her stomach."

Lathon shook his head gravely, "Alan, let us get the dog."

We waited until Mom and Dad calmed down before we leapt head first into Lathon's plan. He had me put my satchel on and he followed it up by climbing into it. He was worried that if he came into the living room in his vapor form that Dad might sense that he was present. I tiptoed down the stairs so I could look around the corners and monitor the activity of my parents.

When I got there, I ended up witnessing an unusually tender moment. Both asleep, Dad had Mom wrapped in his arms and they were cuddling on the couch with a warm fire blazing in the fireplace. It was a scene that was a complete polar opposite of the night both of them were at each other's throats. This was the perfect time for Lathon to get to work.

Peaches walked up to me and was right about to bark before I watched Lathon's shadowy body slither out of my bag and wrap his smoky shape around her throat. She let out a slight whimper of betrayal before the smoke seeped into her mouth and then it was over.

You could hardly tell the difference, except her eyes took on a silvery glaze. With a wink, Lathon drove Peaches' body into the kitchen. I followed slowly so as not to wake up the happy couple.

When I got into the kitchen, I whispered, "What now?"

Peaches looked somewhere between irritated and constipated. Lathon's voice came out, "I am rooting around and I can not find that blasted stone. I really thought this was going to work."

My mind began to race at full speed, "I think I know how to see if the stone is in there."

"How?"

I sat down on my knees and crawled towards Peaches. I said, "Like this," and opened up her jaws, quickly shoving my fingers into the back of her throat. I hoped it wasn't going to become part of my growing list of bad habits.

Lathon said, "Oh, this is going to be bad," and threw up at least two days of Peaches' diet in the middle of the kitchen linoleum. It would have been unbearable to look at if it were not for the stone in the middle of it that began to glow bright red.

"We found it!" I shouted and then promptly covered my mouth when I remembered we were supposed to be keeping quiet. I whispered it again, "We found it!" Containing my excitement was unbearable. We were one step closer to making all of it go away.

Lathon grunted, "I am not cleaning up that pile of doggy mess. That was worse than having house duty for Actoria and _those_ are some stinky wolves."

I remembered Actoria was a chapter in Darius' book. They had the funny emblem with the wolves. I wondered what Lathon was getting at, but wiped my head of it as I cleaned up the gunk on the ground with a stack of paper towels and threw them in the trash.

"So, what is next?" I said.

"Next we have to figure out what is for dinner tonight," said Dad's voice from behind me.

I kicked the memory stone under the kitchen sink. Lathon moved Peaches body on top of it and plopped down to muffle out the light.

Dad chuckled to himself, "I am starving."

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I really wished he would stop sneaking up on me like that. It was like he was beginning to do it on purpose. I kept my eye on Dad as he pulled some vegetables, broccoli and carrots, out of the fridge. He placed them on the cutting board and added to my freaked out level by grabbing hold of the big knife from the side drawer, replacing the one I threw in the trash. Each slice he'd make reminded me that it could be my limbs he was chopping up.

I looked at Lathon for assurance that there was still indeed a plan taking place. He made Peaches' shoulders rise in a shrug. I guess his plan didn't involve Dad waking up either. That was just fan-freaking-tastic.

"Rough day, kiddo?" Dad said.

I gulped, "Y-y-yeah you could say that."

Dad began tapping at the cutting board even harder, "Anything on your mind?"

"So many things. All of the things."

"What?"

I said, "Nothing," and escaped out of the kitchen to check on Mom who was still sleeping peacefully on the couch. She was a little less graceful without Dad holding her up. She looked like a lazy dog. Her arms were sprawled out along with her legs. In fact, now more than ever I imagined she very possibly could have been a dog in some other life. I wondered what had become of my reality if that was an acceptable possibility to me.

Peaches walked up to me and reached up her paw to make me hunch over. Lathon's voice spoke quietly, "Here, I have got the stone in my paw," and placed it in my hand.

"How did you hold that?" I said. "You haven't got any thumbs."

Peaches growled.

"Ok. Ok. What do we do with it?"

Peaches looked over her shoulder to determine whether or not we were once again being eaves dropped on. Lathon's voice spoke, "Each memory stone is programmed for one person and one person only, which is why it did funny things to Maggie. This particular one was sent down for Reese. If we can somehow get it on his person without him noticing, it will pluck away any memories we tell it to. In this case, we want it to take away the ones that involve his life on Draio."

"Why only the ones on Draio?"

"Do you want to hear the plan or not?"

The sound of Mom snoring like a bear distracted me. I didn't know she had it in her. I hit the top of my head to remind myself to focus and turned back to Peaches whose silvery eyes were boring into me.

"I am sorry. I am listening," I said.

"You are going to put that stone in his jacket pocket, and I am going to whimper until he cannot resist the notion that it is time for Peaches to be taken out for an evening stroll. Once you have completed your portion of the deal, Reese and I will go out and when we should return, we will have a new Reese. Hopefully, it will be the Reese that you are looking for."

I recounted the few times I had flashbacks that involved the stone, "The few times I have picked it up, it showed me an image, but it was like it was showing me the future. You were there talking to me in real time. Dad was there at one point, too."

"That is not possible. It showed you something that would terrify you as a defense mechanism."

I said, "I thought we were communicating with each other in my vision. You told me you were coordinating something with LeCarre."

Lathon huffed, "Meer flashes or hallucinations. Let us get on with the plan and save your Dad."

I did not care for the way Lathon brushed off our chat about the stone, but I imagined he had more pressing matters on his mind. My thoughts shifted to the plan. It all sounded amazing, but at the same time it sounded all too easy for me to believe. With all that I have been through these last few weeks, this was how it was all going to end?

Lathon said, "Are you ready?"

I figured I was as prepared as I was possibly going to get. I responded, "Ready."

Lathon turned Peaches around and ran into the kitchen and started crying and barking. I looked around the living room for Dad's jacket, which was not on the couch where I could readily see it or the piano. He hadn't worn it to Main Street, so I worried it may also have been upstairs.

Another loud snore from my mother drew my attention back to the couch. Under her unconscious body was the black leather fabric that made up my father's jacket. "Well, that wouldn't be alarming would it?" I thought to myself. I am sure Mom would have very few questions for me when I inserted the glowing stone into one of Dad's jacket pockets.

Lathon was still barking his head off. I heard Dad returning the conversation, "Not now, girl. I am busy."

I tried to envision a scenario where I was able to pull the jacket out from under Mom without her waking up, and it just wouldn't come to me. Instantly, I panicked and went for highly dangerous and rightfully unspoken plan B. I was going to plant it on his body myself.

I entered the kitchen where Dad was sautéing the vegetables in a big pan. The glorious smell welcomely swarmed my nose. Peaches looked at me worried like I was about to blow the plan, but I nodded to let her know it was going to be ok.

"Dad," I said, "will you do me a favor? I will watch the food."

He laughed, "Are you a cook now, too? I must have missed a lot. What is the favor?"

"Well, you see Mom gets bad vibes whenever she sees this stone," I said as I pulled it out of my pocket. "I think it would be appropriate if you were the one to dispose of it."

"Just throw it in the trash."

I sighed, "This is more than just trash. It was something your boss left behind. I think you should bury it."

I do not know why I thought this was going to work, but my only options were to either shake Mom awake or jam it down Dad's throat. I didn't like those odds.

He turned back to me with an intention to humor me, "If this is what you want, I will be more than happy to do it. Make sure the vegetables do not burn. I will go ahead and take Peaches on a walk as well."

Dad took the stone out of my hand and jammed it into his pocket. He grabbed Peaches' leash off of the kitchen table and went out the sliding back door for a night's stroll. I guess he wouldn't have worn his jacket after all.

I turned the knobs on the kitchen stove to low so I wouldn't have to call the fire department if anything went wrong. I had never really cooked before. It was nice that watching the pan was going to be the toughest thing I'd be doing on my first time around.

"Alan?" I heard Mom call from the living room.

I made one last check on the state of the vegetables and then walked around to join her. She reached her arms up to stretch.

Her back arched back like a sleepy cat, she said, "I don't know how I got so tired." She breathed in the scent of the room, "What is that delicious smell? Is my Alan cooking?"

Embarrassed, I said, "Dad started it. I am just watching while he walks the dog. I'm not sure what we are doing for meat."

She grinned mischievously, "Meat sounds delicious. I could eat a cow if it was presented to me right now. Got one out back?"

I laughed along with her. It was always refreshing to see her smile.

She placed her hand on my face and cleared my hair from hanging over my ears, "Listen, Alan. I am so terribly sorry the way I must have been treating you these past few weeks."

"Don't worry about it, Mom. I understand. He means a lot to me too."

"Yes, but I am your mother first. Wine? Not focusing on you when you need me? That isn't me and we both know it."

She leaned forward and gave me a tight hug. "Make me a promise," she said.

I hugged her back, "Anything."

"If something happens and we are stuck in a similar predicament, you won't let me get that way. You'll put an end to it, won't you?"

I knew what she meant, but I thought about the memory stone and what it could potentially do to my father if it backfires. Darius wasn't alive to support us and money would run low if Dad were to die. I was too young to support my mother, but I couldn't afford to think like that. I snapped out of it.

"I will," I said.

"Good," she said as she let go. "How did everything go today? Did you have fun with your father?"

"We saw the bookstore and the café. Nothing unusual," I said. I hated lying to her but it felt more than appropriate at that present time.

"That is good news, right? We need a break from the unusual."

She got up off the couch and stretched one last time before she walked up stairs to take a shower before dinner. "Hopefully," I thought, "Things will be normal again, now."

I could only hope.

The back door slid open about twenty minutes later. The sky had grown dark and it was still raining. Peaches walked in first with her big tongue hanging outside of her mouth. The silvery glaze in her eyes had disappeared. The next one in was Dad but he looked more like he was sleepwalking. Lathon in his solid form was close behind. All three appeared to be drenched.

Lathon closed the door and moved his hands in the direction of Dad who promptly fell face forward on to the couch and into my lap. Conscious of the wet puddle that was dripping off of me and on to the floor, I pushed him aside and on to his back and stood up.

"Well, how did it go?" I said.

Lathon mimed like he was cracking his knuckles, "Went off like a charm. We made it about halfway down the street before he dozed off. The stone dims in brightness as it consumes memories and as you can see," he summoned the stone, which flew out of Dad's pocket and into his hand, "This stone is full."

It was pitch black. It was startling to think how we had robbed my dad of what was probably his childhood. I knew it was necessary but that didn't mean I felt good about it.

"What now?"

Lathon said, "Well, I have to take this back to LeCarre. If Reese survives we can all go home and it will all be over."

My heart ached, "You still think there is a chance he may not survive?"

Lathon realized how this was affecting me, "A teensy one. That is good news, right? I could always say it was going to be a big chance."

The boards creaked with my mother's footsteps. Upon hearing Mom traveling down the stairs, Lathon slid out the back door and flew off to see LeCarre.

Mom had put on a pair of old jeans and a white t-shirt. She gave me a strange look like I had a second head growing out of my neck. She said, "What was all of that noise?"

"What noise?"

"I heard more than one—voice," she said as she spotted Dad's body on the couch. She tried to shake him awake, "What? Why? What happened?"

I was dried up for words. I said, "I don't know. He came back with Peaches and dozed off on the couch. I think he is just sleeping."

She held her hand up against Dad's neck, "He isn't breathing. There isn't a pulse! Reese? REESE?"

I stepped back. I didn't want to be responsible for killing my father. Lathon had said there was only a small chance he wouldn't survive. That was not a scenario that had played in my head at all. I fell apart when my mom began to cry.

"I need you, Reese," she said. She punched him in the chest, "You can't run away from me again. Wake up! Damn it, wake up!"

He still didn't move. Mom and I were more alone now than we had ever been. Had I done the right thing? I didn't know anymore. I wished the police would come and take me away. I had murdered my father. I would be the cause of years of torment for my mother. Blood was on my hands.

Dad let out a loud gasp and all of the air had been sucked out of the room. He was alive. Mom said, "Reese!" and wrapped her arms around him.

He quickly pushed her arms away and leapt off of the couch. Peaches who had been heating herself up by the fire growled at him like he was a stranger that had entered into her sacred territory.

Dad had a wild fury in his eyes, "Where is he?"

"Who?" Mom responded dumbfounded. She was still shaken from Dad hitting her arms away. "Who is he?"

"Davison. He was supposed to be here."

I was even starting to get confused, "Where is here?"

"Alan, stop," Mom said, but she looked to Dad to answer to Dad to answer anyway.

Dad looked around at the room, "I-I do not know." He fell to his knees and placed both of his hands against his head, "I do not know where this is. It is supposed to be the park. I was supposed to introduce him to Darius at the park."

His memory was scrambled, but I didn't want him to continue. He was saying too much. He was going to tell Mom that I had murdered Darius, or something equally bad and wrong.

"Darius?" Mom said. "Why were you supposed to meet Darius tonight? You have been gone for enough time as it is."

Dad looked at her like she was out of her mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I have been here forever. You never let me leave!"

Mom eyed me, hoping she would get an answer, "Reese, I think you are going to want to lie back down."

"Who are you?"

"Who am I?" Mom said.

Dad brushed me off as just some random teenager in the room. He said, "It is a fair question. Do you work for Davison too? Are you his secretary?"

Mom got in his face, "Have you been doing drugs all this time? Is that why you wanted to spend time with Davison and your other little friends?"

Dad walked around her, "You are a little rude. Davison should fire you if he ever gets the chance."

He hunched over to me, "Do you know where Davison is? Darius should be here any second now, and he is a very impatient person."

Mom looked at me for some clarity. Upon finding I had nothing to add, she grabbed Dad's arm to help him sit. He tried to slip it out of her grip, but she insisted, "Uh, Davison wouldn't like his guests to get restless while they wait for his arrival."

Dad nodded and relaxed his efforts. He said, "Valid point. I will wait," and sat down on his own.

Mom was wrecked worse than before. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you crying? My Lord, woman, it is only a brief meeting and then you can get back to your house chores," Dad said. He looked at Mom for a moment, "Do you plan to get me a beverage or am I going to remain parched of thirst?"

Mom wiped her face with her sleeve. She stomped off to the kitchen, saying, "Alan, I think I've lost my appetite. Would you mind if I threw the vegetables out?"

Dad perked up, "Did she say your name was Alan?"

"Yes," I said, "Who do _you_ think you are?"

"That is not important right now. You are the boy Darius had been talking about. You have to be."

His memory had pulled the events leading up to Darius' death. Had Lathon planned it this way? I wondered why he couldn't remember who either Mom or I were. It didn't help that he was looking at me like a prized hen.

"He said a boy named Alan was the important piece of the puzzle. You were going to spark the revolution."

I decided to play along, "What revolution?"

"The Si—well, I guess I cannot remember what he called them. These things that—no, that is not it either," he scratched his head, "What was it they did? I do not know. Anyways, they have a revolution going on and you are the center."

I shook my head, "Wrong Alan. There is an Alan Walters in Dahlgreen."

"In that case," he said, "You can call me Adolphus Fletch. What is yours?"

"Alan Quinn. Adolphus Fletch? How did you pull that name out of a hat?"

I took a seat on the recliner to the right of the couch. Had his mind been wiped so clean that he had become a different person? It was all so terribly wrong. Adolphus Fletch sounded like some kind of name that only could have come from Lathon's world. I knew one thing: it was no longer safe to keep him in the house. Even when he was calm, I could tell a cold anger hid behind his eyes. Worse was that Dad no longer seemed to know why he was angry in the first place.

He responded, "How would you feel if you were insulted for something out of your control? Naturally, the name was given to me when I was an infant. We do not get to choose our names, Quinn. Are you sure you are not the Alan that Darius is looking for? You certainly have the same speech rhythms he described."

I crossed my arms, "Just a big misunderstanding. You said before that you thought you were at the park?"

"Parks? Houses? Who is counting? Darius has a habit of getting me turned around."

"What does he think of having a friend named Adolphus Fletch?"

Adolphus squinted his eyes at me like an old drunk, "If I did not know better, and quite frankly I know very little about you, I would say that you were mocking me. I will have you know, Alan, I do not care to be mocked. It is not very nice."

It was like night and day or hot and cold. The man that was my father was nowhere inside. This Adolphus or whoever he was pretending to be was a complete idiot. I almost wished for the imminent doom of the universe if it meant that I would get my dad back. I thought if I could knock him out again that he would make the switch.

I looked around the area for a large object when I caught sight of the lamp. I placed my hands on it like I was trying to fix it. I said, "Well, I don't think Darius is going to show up, Mr. Fletch. Would you care to stay the night until the morning?"

"I will wait just a few moments longer. He is never late for his appointments and that Davison seemed to have very important business. I am not a fan of anyone who does not hold on to their prior engagements."

"Ok," I said and ripped the lamp off of the table and smashed him over the head with it as hard as I could and dropped the lamp by his side. Mom ran out of the kitchen to find the origin of the noise.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"I don't know. He just passed out. He wasn't acting like himself," I said.

Dad, or Adolphus, landed on top of the coffee table face first.

Mom was a second away from another major breakdown. I doubted she could take any more festivities. I walked up to her and held her hands, "Mom, he was becoming dangerous. He told me his name was Adolphus Fletch of all things."

She tilted her head, "He did? That was the name of—never mind." She released her hands from mine and walked around me to check the status of my father. She said, "Let's get him into the bedroom."

Instead, Mom and I lifted Dad up and started to take him up the stairs. He was heavier than I imagined. I had to bend my knees just to be able to have the power to get him past the first step.

Mom didn't have the same trouble. Some kind of sub-human strength rose up in her as she dragged Dad the rest of the way without my assistance. Quickly, she turned the corner with him and went out of sight. I followed them up and ran into their bedroom only to find she had already tucked him under the covers.

"How did you do that?" I said.

Immodest, Mom said, "Do what?"

"Great," I thought, "Now, Mom has got magical abilities too?"

I shook my head and waited for her to exit the room. She grabbed a hold of a wooden chair from her makeup counter and followed me out. She closed the door and firmly placed the chair where the back was propped under the doorknob, which would make it impossible to pull open.

I said, "What are you doing?"

"I do not remember why, but Adolphus Fletch is not a good name to have, so that takes care of that," she said. "What's next?"

I said, "Wha—"

She said, "I promise it will all make sense very soon."

Mom still appeared slightly worried despite the magnificent feat she just performed. She told me she was going to bed and went back downstairs. I didn't know what we were going to do when Dad woke up, but I wanted to go to bed too. I had to make a point to see LeCarre at school tomorrow. I had to know more about my father's condition or Mom's past.

Either way, I had to get to sleep and escape the nightmare.

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I woke up to the sound of my alarm around six thirty. I jumped out of bed and grabbed the pair of clothes I would be wearing for the day out of a huge pile. I opened my bedroom door and had to skip around Peaches who was waiting to get inside. She brushed past me and climbed into my bed.

Heading for the bathroom for my morning shower, I noticed the chair that Mom had placed to keep Dad locked inside was missing and the door was cracked. I zoomed over to the door to peer inside, but their room was empty. My Dad was nowhere to be found.

"Mom?" I called out. There was no response, so I tried again, "Mom?" Still nothing.

I placed my clothes in a neat pile on the top of the bathroom sink and walked downstairs. They weren't in the living room. The smells of a morning breakfast were missing too. It only left two options: Either they were gone which could be bad or something strange was taking place in the basement level of the house.

I went through the back door a little upset since it was particularly cold outside and all I was wearing was a t-shirt and gym shorts. There was a small stone set of stairs that lead from the back yard to the door that led to the basement. I always thought it would be a strange setup if we were ever experiencing horrible weather. We would have to walk through the storm to get to safety.

I jiggled the slightly rusty door handle but it was locked. I banged on the door, saying, "Mom? Dad?" I paused to think of something else then it came to me, "Adolphus?"

No luck. There was no one home. "Where had they gone?" I wondered. Dad was dangerous and Mom was beginning to develop some of her own strange qualities.

I went back into the house and got ready for the day. I took my shower and chose an excellent breakfast of cereal and chocolate milk since there was no one there to tell me to drink something healthy. Once I was done, I brushed my teeth and decided to take Peaches on a morning walk while I still had time.

She was tough to convince as far as getting her off of my bed, but she seemed to perk up when I mentioned there would be treats involved if she would cooperate. I grabbed my coat and we set out for the neighborhood.

A chilly breeze blew through our front yard. I regretted not putting anything on to cover my face, but with how quickly Peaches went to work, I didn't think we would be out there for very long.

She let her nose work as her GPS and wherever she was going, Peaches clearly had to get there fast. She pulled on the leash and nearly pulled my arm out of socket.

Peaches stopped at a grassy patch about two houses down from ours and barked at her chosen spot ferociously.

"What is it?" I called to her. "What are you barking at, girl?"

From my vantage point, all I saw was unkempt grass and weeds that would fit in perfectly with the rest of my front yard. I chose to tread carefully considering all of the current events that I had been witnessing.

I watched as the hackles on Peaches' back rose up. Her growl became more guttural. I attempted to tug her away from it in case it was dangerous but she held her ground.

As I approached, I peaked around the side of her to get a better look, but it was like she knew what I was up to as her body would move into my line of sight no matter what I did. I grabbed a hold of her collar and pulled her back as far as I could without harming her and finally found what the big fuss was about. It was a paw print.

It wasn't just any paw print. The pads of the feet and claws were too big to be a wolf's and too small to be a bear's. A trail of them zigzagged their way towards the park at the end of the neighborhood. I wanted to believe that someone had just bought a really big guard dog, but I knew better after all that I had been through.

I yanked Peaches' leash in the opposite direction so she could do her business before possibly making me late for the bus. The crisp, cold air blew on my face, but I muscled through it for her. Once she was done, I tried to head back inside, but she started barking again in the direction of the paw prints.

"It'll be ok, girl," I said.

I put her in my room with a bowl of food and water, grabbed my satchel and rushed to catch the bus. The only thing I could afford to focus on was my conversation with LeCarre. My plate was full enough without worrying about stupid—beast sized—paw prints, right? The urges were too strong and my curiosity too high. I went against my better judgment, let Peaches back out of my room, and made my way back towards the prints.

The paw prints, similar to a massive dog, altered with different levels of stress. I could tell the creature, whatever it was, would start and stop with the speed of racecar, kicking dirt and plant life everywhere. Peaches sniffed each print and lead me back to the lake at the end of the street. I wondered why it had to be the park where Darius died and not an ice cream shop or a pizza place.

Peaches spotted something in the far distance and galloped to the edge of the woods. Several trees had been snapped in half or broken in places to make room for something large. I turned back, thinking I might be able to get back to the bus stop in time. Peaches scratched my leg with her paw like she was saying, "Let's go play!" I sucked in a heavy breath and let her lead the way.

The areas that had been disturbed during our last trip had remained that way. I was happy not having to dodge stickers and stray limbs once again.

We quickly made it to the spot where I had first met Lathon quickly. It was crazy to me because I swore up and down that it had taken us much longer that awful night. Sure enough, I looked over my shoulder and I could still see the lake.

An ashy black mark made up a circle in the middle of the clearing. That was where the big paw prints reappeared. They came up just by the nearest trees, but slowly shifted into small human feet. Right before they landed on the black spot, a second pair of feet joined them. I thought, "It couldn't be—"

Not prepared to make any judgments. Not ready to guess the marks had belonged to my parents, I tried to convince myself I hadn't seen anything at all. I jerked Peaches again with her leash and quickly made my way back home.

The bus ride to school went by quickly. Jessica and her brother were absent, which I found to be a little strange considering she always bragged about how she never missed any days unless there was an emergency. I definitely could think up several emergencies that would qualify and one of them involved something terrible happening to her father.

Vick was waiting at the back of the building when we got to school. He had the same dirty hoodie on that he was wearing the day I brought Lathon into the school. Something felt different about him. He didn't have any of his friends with him. I wondered if he had chosen that day to exact his revenge on me for beating him up. I was not in the mood to be messed with.

All of the kids piled out of the bus and headed off for their respective classes. I walked as fast as I could, but I wasn't fast enough for Vick who grabbed my satchel and pulled me toward him. I stopped when we were face to face and put up my guard by clenching my fists.

"What do you want today, Vick?" I said.

His expression switched to terrified in a heartbeat. He said, "I want to know what really happened yesterday."

I maintained my fake tough guy voice, "I punched your lights out."

He raised his eyebrow along with his right fist and I backed down.

"Really," he said, "I remember most of the other day, but three hours of it are wiped clean. It was like an etch a sketch had replaced my brain. You weren't there to talk about it."

This was not the time for the "Guess what! You were possessed by a Silhouette" conversation, so I remained silent.

"Seriously, man. I had the worst dream of all time last night. It is not the sort of thing that I dream about either. It was more like something a freak like you would have."

"As much as I would like to stay and chat," I said, "We have to get to gym class."

"Dude, listen. I am only telling you this because you are the only one that understands any of this creepy weirdo stuff."

Offended, I said, "And, why is it that you think that?"

"Because you are a creepy weirdo."

I said, "Thought so," as I straightened my satchel on my shoulder. "What do you want?"

Vick looked around us to make sure we were alone. He waited until my bus driver entered the building. He said, "They started after I woke up in LeCarre's classroom. I went to Mrs. Applewood's class and sat down for my mid-day nap, you know? Well, it wasn't like any other nap. It was the worst nap ever. Shadows and stuff."

Suddenly, his words were bringing me in. I didn't like where it was going. He may have known too much after all.

He continued, "I was in this field, right? It had grass and animals and stuff. Well, it wasn't just that stuff. There was even more stuff."

"Like?"

"There was a beach and bunch of trees. First, I am thinking this is totally awesome. I am definitely in a peaceful place, but it isn't too long after that when I find out I am not alone—"

In a strange way, he was describing the dream I had almost word for word. I wanted him to stop immediately. I didn't want to hear whom he saw in his dream with him. I walked a few steps away, but he grabbed me with his big hands.

"Has anyone ever told you that you were rude?" he said. "I am having a heart to heart and you are just going to walk away like this is nothing? No wonder you don't have any friends."

I pushed his hands off of me, while finding it difficult to tell him it was probably the fact that he picked me to be his punching bag that kept me from having friends.

"This man was walking towards me from the direction of the beach and like—"

I finished his sentence, "Set the whole place on fire? Was it my father? HUH?"

Vick's face scrunched with confusion, "No. What I was going to say was I was taken off to join some school in the middle of nowhere, but it got so lame that I made myself wake up from it. What do you think it means?"

The bell rang, making it ok for me to discontinue the conversation. I was thankful too because I had no idea what to say to Vick and I was sure he thought I was even weirder for my outburst. I walked off and left him outside.

Gym class wasn't bad. We had a free day where most of the kids just played basketball. I even got in on the action in hopes that it would get my mind off things. All it did was help me to realize I did not exercise enough. I was still out of breath ten minutes after we had dressed out of our gym clothes. I noticed Vick uncharacteristically missed the whole period, but that was fine by me. That was the most peaceful gym experience I had all semester. I was glad when it was over because I could go to LeCarre's class and tell Mr. LeCarre everything.

When the bell rang, I sprinted down the hallway to my locker to get my books and walked to his class, but when I got inside he was not at his desk. I assumed he was running behind and took my place at my seat.

Vick got up from his desk and walked behind me. The few kids that had already made it into the room did a collective "Ohhh" but Vick waved them off. They would not be getting a fight today after all.

He got right up against my ear where he was close enough for me to smell that onion stench for he was famous. He said, "She thought it was weird too."

My eyes were focused on the opening to Mr. LeCarre's classroom. The second bell was about to ring and he was still not in the room. I was becoming concerned.

Vick hit me on the back of the head, "Are you listening to me?"

"I am now," I said as I rubbed the spot. "Who thought it was weird, Vick?"

His voice got really quiet, "Mrs. Wallaby."

I said, "Who?"

"The counselor."

I knew his feelings about it had to be strong if he went as far as going to the counselor's office. Vick was the last person I would have expected to talk about his feelings with anyone.

I brushed him off in hopes that he would drop it, "Of course she thought it was strange. It was a dream where you probably paid attention in class. Total nightmare."

Vick grunted and returned to his desk. I don't know what it was that made him think that I was the best person to confer with about his dream. I looked over my shoulder at the area where he had laid unconscious the day before, wishing Vick had not heard more than he should have from the conversation I had with LeCarre and Lathon.

The bell rang and almost as if on queue a man walked in wearing a red and black sweater vest, a white long sleeved button up, and black pants. He wore a black fedora that was pulled down, which concealed his face, but I noticed he was a little heavy set. One thing was for certain: that was not LeCarre. First, Jessica and her brother and now he was missing? My situation was getting desperate with every passing moment.

I raised my hand to ask a question. The man pointed directly at me without raising his head. Silence rose over the room. He said, "You, sir. You have a question."

I responded, "Where is Mr. LeCarre?"

The man removed his hat. It a man of robust size. One that small children when run the other way from if he was stomping around them. It was relief. I was expecting another supernatural being I would have to deal with. He said, "He is not here today. I am going to be teaching your class for the day. My name is Mr. Wimble."

I rolled my eyes and zoned out. I pulled a notebook out of my satchel. It was the journal I had used to track the days since my father's disappearance. I imagined if I went back to the Alan of a few weeks ago and told him all of the things I was going to experience, he probably would have told me I was crazy.

A piece of paper hit me in the back of the head. I turned to look for the culprit, but found Vick stupidly waving at me, mouthing the words, "I have to talk to you." I shook my head no and went back to ignoring the world around me.

Mr. Wimble gave the class crossword puzzles using American history terms. I filled in a few lines, got bored, and began to scribble on it. The feeling lingered that something terrible was happening to my friends. It didn't help that my parents were MIA.

The rest of the school day flew by. I paid attention to every lesson, which was impressive for my sake. I knew if I worried too much about my parents I would have a nervous breakdown.

At the end of it, I followed the sounds of the last bell to the bus lanes, but I was pulled aside yet again. I thought I was about to have another deep conversation with Vick when I noticed the hands that had ahold of me were much smaller than I expected.

Jessica LeCarre pointed toward a car at the other end of the parking lot. She said, "You are riding with us."

I was not fit to argue.

Jessica and I sat in the back seat of the older Honda Civic while Gerry sat in the passenger seat. I was relieved to find that it was LeCarre behind the wheel. I decided to break the ice, "Why weren't any of you at school today?"

"That is a secret and you know it," Jessica giggled.

"Perhaps, it is a conversation for another time," LeCarre chimed in as we cruised through Dahlgreen on our way back to Ashton.

I thought it was safe to assume that Jessica had forgiven me for whatever it was that I said that made her so mad the day before. Our hands were placed a few inches apart. A speed bump would have forced them to intertwine. I twitched, perishing the thought of how awkward I was behaving.

"Mr. LeCarre," I said, "You will never believe who they had as your substitute teacher today."

His silvery eyes flashed at me in the reflection of his rearview mirror. I understood that to mean any discussions would have to wait till later.

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LeCarre drove us to their house, which was just a few neighborhoods over from mine on Rabbit Hole Avenue. Their home was in much better shape than ours. The yard was maintained and all of the windows were in proper position. The outer walls were a flushed shade of red with green linings. Every time I came over, it made me feel like it was Christmas again.

We went inside. The layout wasn't too different from the inside of my house. A staircase was the first thing you saw when you entered the door. The living room was to the side of the stairs. It was decked out with a lot of classic looking leather furniture. A sectioned couch took center stage amongst LeCarre's gentlemen chairs. All of it rested on oak wood floors.

I always wondered how long LeCarre had been working at Dahlgreen. I didn't think it was possible for him to afford the set up on a teacher's salary. His extra curricular activities as a Silhouette hardly helped sell his case as a rich man.

"Jessica, you and your brother go upstairs. I need to speak to Alan alone," he said.

Jessica made a brief protest, but promptly dragged Gerry up the stairs who still had his eyes attached to his video games.

"LeCarre, I—"

LeCarre waved his hand in the air, which sent me sailing into one of his gentlemen chairs. I straightened up quickly.

"Alan, we do not have a lot of time," he said.

"What are you talking about? All I've heard lately is how much time we don't have. When do the good happy thoughts show up?"

LeCarre pretended like I had not said anything at all, "Lathon was keeping a close eye on your parents."

"And?"

"They are gone. Lathon said he was following them to their destination. He wouldn't tell me where they went, but he said he had a lead. I'm thinking of making a trek to London to learn more about the Silhouettes there."

"Now, you know how it feels." My insides felt like they had been turned inside out, "What about the memory stone? What am I supposed to do while Lathon is away and you are in London? I want to understand what is going on, but the two of you keep avoiding my questions. My dad, he called himself—," I stopped my words when LeCarre's eyes perked up.

"What did he call himself, Alan?" he said. "Tell me now."

"Adolphus Fletch."

LeCarre toppled the chair opposite of me to the ground, which shook the floor enough to make their big screen TV above the fireplace wobble. I could already tell that things were not going to be ok.

"Who is Adolphus Fletch?" I asked. LeCarre was still too angry to answer. I asked again, "LeCarre? Who is Adolphus Fletch?

His silvery gaze caught mine, "He promised he would not do this, honestly. I knew I should have checked it before we used it."

I jumped up from my chair. The picture was beginning to become crystal clear. I said, "Please tell me. I have to know, LeCarre. I'm frightened."

He motioned for me to sit back down and picked the chair back up to take his own seat. He said, "Draio, like most places, has a government."

"Right, the high council?"

"In the beginning, there were only Silhouettes on Draio. They ran the high council and oversaw the rest of their people. The population, mostly men, had one job: to create dreams and insert them into the minds of Earth's people. They developed a machine out of scratch that projected dreams on to a movie screen. It was none too different from the buildings you call IMAX theaters on Earth. Naturally, this allowed them to tap into the minds of billions.

Now, the Silhouettes did not create the dreams on their own. It was a collaborative effort between them and the humans they were influencing. This led to a small number of Silhouettes who were so impressed with some of the dreams they were creating that they petitioned the high council to invite humans to Draio.

The original council consisted of five members: Awduron, Arlun, Actoria, Adolphus, and Diffo. Four of the members disapproved. Care to guess which one agreed?"

"Adolphus? You mean my dad was part of the original high council? How old is he?"

"No. The real Adolphus is long dead. Your father wore his name as a symbol of the resistance. The real Adolphus Fletch approved the entry of humans into Draio."

"Isn't that majority rules?"

"The high council only needed one party to approve for their orders to be passed. Humans were officially allowed in to Draio. The original order only allowed humans within an inch of their life to enter in order to preserve the secrecy of their land. Shakespeare was one of the first _Second Lifes_ to be let in. I've been told he was an odd sort, attempting to stage the Silhouettes in his productions. Eventually, the Silhouettes grew tired of prancing around under his direction that they let a few more humans into Draio.

Many years passed along with some highly successful dreams when they invited Mark Twain to Draio in 1910. He convinced the Silhouettes that, if we used the Silhouette's magic, that we could create new species of creatures. This led to the shape shifters, the nee naws, and the dragons. Twain did it all. He created the schools, the observation decks. He built dormitories in all of the high council members' honor. This pleased the council so much that they stripped the _within death_ ban that limited the Second Lifes from living in our world and opened it to any human that was creative enough to find a way in.

Artists, writers, warriors, and actors, they all started pouring in. That is when Reese Quinn and Maggie Hoffner found their way. Reese was a writer. Maggie was an actress that eventually learned to be a shifter from the Silhouettes. I remember meeting them for the first time. I had only been alive for twenty seasons. They were wonderful friends, Alan. They truly were."

The history of Draio swam around in my mind. It sounded so wonderful. I said, "This all sounds amazing, but what happened that destroyed everything?"

LeCarre's silvery eyes were drenched in tears, "Humans immediately wanted to know more about the power the Silhouettes had. They craved it. Many like your father spent too much time hoping to be taught some of their abilities. One day, a Silhouette took it upon himself to oblige Reese. The Silhouette inserted his being inside of Reese's head and let your father feel his power. They learned combat together, invisibility, or anything that Reese demanded of him. The high council gained wind of this and forbid the Silhouette to continue his practices. The Silhouette agreed, but we all knew this wasn't going to work out for Reese.

He had become dependent on the Silhouette's power like a drug that he desperately needed. The same went for any other Second Life that chose to indulge in the Silhouette's dealings. The high council locked Reese up along with the—"

"Which Silhouette was it?"

"Lathon," said LeCarre. "Adolphus Fletch, in his 463rd season, protested the high council's decision. He begged them to see that the joining of Silhouettes and humans could have endless benefits. Awduron, the leader, disagreed, which led to a battle between the two Silhouettes. Awduron won. Adolphus was thrown out of Draio, leading to his permadeath."

"That lead to the great war?"

"Precisely. Like most places it has a select margin of people that oppose its government. The Second Lifes had a revolution. When a revolution takes place, there must be a leader. Their leader was Reese Quinn, who led under the name of the one who allowed the Second Lifes to enter Draio in the first place: Adolphus Fletch."

"What happened then?"

"The bulk of the high council were—" LeCarre swallowed to gather his words, "sent to their permadeaths. They were banished from Draio and, by association, life. The rest of the Silhouettes surrendered and agreed to obey anyone the Second Lifes chose for their high council. "

The words slipped out, "Darius?"

He stared at me for a moment, "Yes. That was around the time young Darius found his way into Draio. When he was still on Earth, he would dream of Draio and scribble his findings in his books. When he was recruited to live with us, he practically skyrocketed into power.

Adolphus and Darius took reign over all that remained. They kept Lathon around to maintain the illusion of an equal balance. The Silhouettes had just as many rights as they were accustomed to, but they had to follow human orders and go to the human schools. Imagine Silhouettes having Albert Einstein teaching them science lessons. After the rising, that was now happening. They were no longer allowed to do any dream creation, leading to a century of nightmares."

I studied LeCarre. I wondered how it made him feel to be in the middle of all of it. He was a Silhouette being ruled by my father. I said, "How did the Silhouettes end up in the cages?"

"That happened after the second rising. The Silhouettes began," he cleared his throat like he was fighting a painful thought, "kidnapping children, experimenting on them. All the while, they were recruiting the supernatural hybrids like the shifters they had created. They were preparing to start a war to take back their land. Lord Darius learned of the uprising and labeled the shifters as a banned race."

"And caged all of the Silhouettes?" I inquired.

LeCarre got up out of his chair and walked away from me. I could tell he was terribly conflicted in all of this. He said, "Some animals deserve to be caged."

"But you are one of them!" I stood up and followed him, "Why can't they live peacefully with each other?"

LeCarre kept his back to me, "There is a new kind of unrest between the two powers. It is something even more powerful and it involves your father and your mother."

"Really? What?" I demanded.

"You."

"Well, things must have skipped a generation because so far I can't do anything. I'm basically worthless."

"You do not understand. You were the curse of the Great War, a child of a Second Life hybrid and a shifter. If Darius found out, it would mean your father's doom. Someone told Darius that Maggie was pregnant. Darius found out and wiped the memories of both of your parents before banishing them to Earth. With the proper teaching, you would be surprised what you are capable of doing. You could move mountains," he said as he turned to me. "You just have to search deep down inside. With all of that blood swirling around inside, who knows what you can do."

We are going to have to move quickly if your father's memory has returned. He is going to want to take out the traitors that destroyed his life."

My voice was shaky, "Did he kill Darius?"

LeCarre glared harshly into my eyes, "I do not know that. Your father is not the only species currently on this planet that had vendetta against Darius."

So, Dad was a mighty sorcerer or whatever and the fate of the universe depends on which of his split personalities comes to life. It was too ridiculous for words, but LeCarre did not appear to be in a laughing mood.

I said, "If this is true, why have the dream chasers been involved? Why would they want to bring back Adolphus Fletch? Wouldn't he kill them on the spot?"

LeCarre furiously paced from right to left, "They hoped it would arouse his hatred for the Silhouettes who had kidnapped the Second Life children." He rushed to me and placed both of his hands on my shoulders, "I am afraid to say that it was a successful venture."

My body began to sweat like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"It was not just the dream chasers that were trying to make your father remember," he said. "Andrew Lathon hoped to bring out the pride he once had in the Silhouettes. They had been best friends since they were teenagers. The Great Wars got in the way. I just fear that he has been trying to convince Reese to harm humans."

My world was on a never ending flip cycle. I never knew when it was going to stop being turned upside down. I freaked out, "YOU KNEW ALL ALONG? Now, he is somewhere with my parents?"

Lathon sighed, "The fact is that I have no idea where he is at this time. He could be anywhere."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TRY TO STOP HIM?"

He said, "I was waiting for my chance to strike. You were in the cross fire."

"I—but—you couldn't have told me?"

LeCarre sat down in one of his chairs. I could tell it pained him to look at me, "Davison and his men are what we call on Draio—"

"What? Are they the good guys now?"

LeCarre smiled, "They were always really clever. It was imperative that he believed they were hearing his stories for the first time. We were good friends, you know? We did everything together on Draio."

I had so many questions but the pain was too great to get the words out, "What about Darius? You all said it was my father."

A tear came out of LeCarre's eye. I wondered how he was becoming one with his body. I felt like I knew even less about the Silhouettes than I did before. I said, "What really happened?"

He said, "I always knew it was him. As soon as you walked into my classroom the other day, it stunk of something Andrew Lathon would have done. I had to feel it out. I agreed to follow you to Ashton."

"Even though you knew that could have been total suicide? I saw you waving your hand around his face. What went wrong?"

"Lathon happened."

I said, "LeCarre, why don't you belong to the side of the Silhouettes?"

LeCarre looked at the ceiling, but I could tell he was looking beyond to Jessica and Gerry.

I leapt up from my spot on the floor. An idea scratched its way over my brain like a porcupine quill.

"What is it?" said LeCarre.

"Lathon has the stone."

"Yes?"

"Well, with Dad's memories and powers, don't think that he might try to make them his own?"

LeCarre eyed me like a failed science experiment, "I am not sure I follow."

I jumped up and down with frustration; "It should be obvious by now, shouldn't it? Lathon wants to become Adolphus Fletch. He wants to lead the Silhouette revolution! We have to go with you to London to keep him from recruiting the others!"

LeCarre shook his head, "No. Out of the question. I will go, but you will have to stay behind. I brought you here so you would not be alone while your parents were away."

The thought never occurred to me. Alone with Jessica while her father was out world saving? He clearly wasn't human or he would have put his foot down.

He said, "The school will worry about you being absent from school. I have vacation time."

I stamped my foot to call his attention, "If the world collapses in on itself, there will be no school to attend."

I watched as LeCarre placed his hand beneath his chin to mull it over. He did not want me to go, but I didn't want to standby as something terrible happened to my parents. Lathon's game wasn't clear to me, but he had to be stopped. "Perhaps," I thought, "He could be convinced to back down." None of it seemed like it had a chance to work, but we had to try. I mean, the worst thing would be the world ending without me getting a chance to see London one more time.

LeCarre said, "You make a fair point. We will take Gerry and Jessica too. You can keep each other company while I hunt them down."

"Do they know what you are?" I said.

"They have always known what I am."

That was not an answer I was expecting, "Are they—um—like you?"

"In little ways," he said. "If things had worked out a different way, they would be up in Draio learning with the best. For now, it is wartime. Go upstairs. I will run by your home to get your things."

Before he could fly out the door, I called after him, "Please make sure Peaches has a full bowl of food and water. I don't want anything to happen to her."

LeCarre said, "Would not dream of letting anything do her harm," and was off into the night.

I ran upstairs to the room Jessica and Gerry shared. For siblings, they always got along fairly well, but I knew Jessica dreamed of a separate bedroom. The walls were gender neutral red. A mini television was resting on top of an XBOX 360 on top of a large dresser drawer that they both shared. It was positioned on the opposite end of their bunk beds, which occupied the right side of the room. A writing desk like mine sat under their window with a decent view of the woods. The moon shone right through it.

What amazed me was Jessica and Gerry who were sitting in the middle of the room. A pencil floated in the air between them. Jessica waved her right hand while Gerry waved his left. It was some kind of tug of war.

Jessica said, "You are going to have give up eventually, jerk face."

Gerry laughed maniacally. "And let you win? Never! Do not call me jerk face."

Jessica waved her arm across her body, sending the pencil across the room. She said, "That is 20 to 0. You done yet?"

Talk about me being intimidated. Finally I had someone that understood and lived through what I was going through but she was the one that had the powers. How could I ever impress someone like that? I lightly wiped my face to erase my stupid thoughts.

Jessica brushed her brilliant red hair out of her eyes that shone under their bedroom light. She said, "We have a visitor, Gerry," and invited me to sit next to her.

I attempted to play it cool with diminishing returns, "How did you do it?"

She smiled happily, "That was one of my secrets I wanted to tell you, but now I have the chance to show you. Pick an object in the room."

"Anything?"

Gerry frowned, "Get on with it, Alan."

I picked a note pad that sat by itself on the writing desk. Jessica gave me a mischievous look and went to go grab it and bring it in the middle of the three of us. She opened it up.

She said, "What would you like me to do with it?"

I responded, "You are going to make me choose?"

"Fine," she giggled as she began waving her hands around the notepad counter clockwise and then reversed directions.

Slowly, a few of the pages began to tear themselves from the pad and float around the room. I had to duck a few times to avoid having my head torn off by a mean paper cut.

Jessica spread her fingers and twirled them around. The sheets began to fold themselves in rhythm with the way she was moving. One sheet folded itself into a paper frog and another folded into a tiger. The last sheet landed underneath them, where the frog and tiger playfully chased each other. They flew around the room like they were on a magic carpet until they landed in the middle of our small circle.

Jessica laughed at me. I hadn't realized my jaw was hanging open. I reached my arm up and wiped the drool from my mouth. I said, "That was, uh, pretty cool."

Gerry, who had a fantastic ability to let you know how dumb you were, said, "Not that cool. It is nothing compared to the things she's really capable of, but we have to keep it under wraps because we've been living in Ashton."

Jessica interrupted, "Ever since he learned about Draio's existence he has hated living here even more."

"Why didn't you tell me about all of this?" I said.

"And have you run away from me like every other boy I have tried to show my abilities to?" She said. "You had to learn on your own. I just wished it was under better circumstances, you know?"

I nodded my head, "Yeah, better circumstances."

I looked at Gerry, "What can you do?"

He gleefully sat on his bottom bunk and said, "Useful things," as he flicked his wrists, switching the TV on. He blinked his right eye to make the channels flip forward.

I said, "I shouldn't have asked," and laughed with Jessica.

She said, "So, what do you think of all of this?"

"Your father says we might be joining him in London to hunt down Lathon. I have a sneaking suspicion that my parents might be there too."

Gerry broke in, "It sounds like an amazing idea. Anything is better than Ashton."

Jessica turned around to him, "You do not know any better, Gerry."

I faintly could see his eyes watering as Gerry said, "I could have known better."

Jessica said, "We hope our dad will take us to Draio when this is all over. I want to live there."

"But, it is burnt up. There is nothing there but a school," I responded.

"We can rebuild it. It would be cool if you could come too. I'd appreciate the company."

Gerry scoffed, "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Jessica punched him in the knee to which Gerry mock rubbed from the pain. She said, "You are okay, too."

Anxious, I left their room and looked over the edge of the staircase.

Jessica called after me, "What is it?"

"He's been gone a long time. Your Dad."

"He will be back. He is only going a neighborhood over, silly."

Something didn't feel right. I knew that with how fast LeCarre could move, it should not have taken him that long to grab some of my stuff and return.

Jessica said, "If you are going to worry all of the time like this, Draio life may not be for you."

I mumbled, "I'm beginning to think that too."

I stumbled down the stairs and opened the front door. There was no one outside of their homes and there was no sign of any Silhouettes. I said, "Jessica? Come here, please."

Jessica stopped at the top of the stairs, "What is it?"

"You know how you said I worry too much?"

"Yes."

I said, "Well I don't think that is going to stop unless we run over to my house and make sure everything is ok."

Jessica rolled her eyes and returned to the room. I thought I had lost her interest for a moment but then she returned wearing a light jacket. She said, "Lead the way. Gerry is coming too."

"Perfect."

We headed out of the house and into the street. Jessica decided to make a game of it and we all ran at full speed out of the neighborhood and into mine. I luckily was able to keep up with her speed with the experience I had been gaining from running for my life. Still, we paused at the head of my neighborhood once we got to it so I could refresh.

Jessica laughed at me, "Doomsday does not wait for you to catch your breath."

I winked at her and took off in the direction of my house. I knew she and her brother were running just behind me but I couldn't believe I was winning. It was almost a little satisfying until I saw the golden creature running across the street from my home.

I screamed, "Peaches!"

She spotted me and galloped in my direction. I could see in her widened eyes that she was traumatized. I leaned down so she could cuddle up into my arms as she whimpered. I knew she was a scaredy cat most of the time, but I sensed something was definitely off kilter.

I said, "What is it?"

Her nose pointed in the direction of the house and I witnessed the first sign of trouble: The front door was lying in a scrap pile in the front yard.

A stream of smoke tickled the outside of the doorway when the three of us approached the house. The curtains were pulled up over the windows, blocking a peak at the inside, but I knew it wasn't going to be good. Jessica and Gerry allowed me to lead them in. They were also a little shook up. Peaches followed closely behind.

Inside the doorway, the railings for the staircase were shattered. The photographs on the walls were either cracked or on the ground. The living room was worse. I had to step around the mound that was once the piano Darius gave my mother. The couch had fluff pouring out of it in a several spots and our dining room table was torn apart in the middle and lying on the floor in a heap.

Through all of that, the only thing I could think was "Where is LeCarre?" There were ash marks on parts of the walls where I could tell he had conducted some kind of spell. He was clearly attacked, but by who?"

Jessica picked up a piece of the piano, "What did you say my dad was here doing, again?"

I sad, "He said he was going to get me some clothes for London."

"I'd say it was something a little deeper than that," she dropped the piece. "He had to have known someone was going to meet him here."

Her eyes watered. I couldn't bear to look at the two siblings. If something happened to LeCarre and it was because he was protecting me, they would never forgive me. I had to keep looking.

"LeCarre?" I yelled.

I ran up the stairs, which held up sturdily in spite of the damage. I checked my parent's bedroom, which also had been turned upside down. There were still no signs of LeCarre.

When I made it into my bedroom, I was taken aback. Everything was in its proper place. The bed was made, my writing desk was spotless, and the clothes that usually remained piled on the floor had been picked up and placed into my drawers or were at least out of the way.

I thought, "What kind of maniac would destroy an entire house, but make time to fold my laundry?"

My questions were answered when the shadowy frame of a man appeared in the center of the room.

"We meet again, young friend," said Lathon.

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lathon flicked his wrists, closing and locking the door behind me. He moved his hands like he was directing traffic. My body moved without my control and took me to my bed. I had never been so angry to see someone or something in my life.

Jessica slammed her fists against the door, shouting, "Hey, Alan? Are you ok?"

Lathon snapped his fingers. Her protests turned to silence. All I could hear was a slight ringing in my ear. I just knew I was going to die. I closed my eyes so I didn't have to watch it play out.

"So, someone has been spreading some nasty rumors and someone has been believing them," Lathon said, "Which category do you think you fall in to?"

I peaked with my right eye, "I am not sure what to believe anymore. I can't trust anyone anymore."

Lathon chuckled, "Except Jessica and Gerry, of course. They are good kids. Question?"

I said, "Why have you destroyed the house? You left Peaches out in the cold." I opened my other eye when I began to feel slightly safer. I wasn't going to die just yet. "Jerk."

He said, "I guess it was because I was angry the lot of you would believe such terrible things about me after all that I have done for you. After all, it was I who fixed your father. Just to think, things were going so well."

"You fixed him? YOU FIXED HIM? The man doesn't know who he is and he is dangerous. If anything, you turned him into a freaking vegetable."

Lathon crossed his arms, "He remembered your mother last time I saw him. Or, at least, he remembered what she is."

I said, "What about me?"

Changing the subject, Lathon began muttering something under his breath. He moved his hands in circles around each other like he was a party hopper at a rave dance. The black shadows that made up his complexion began to glow a tint of red.

I said again, "What about me?"

The air around me began to get tighter. Gradually, breathing became difficult. Lathon was completely relaxed, "There now. That is better. Next question."

I wiggled in place in hopes of getting out of the trap I had been placed in. I said, "You didn't answer my last question."

Lathon guffawed, "Do you think you are in any sort of position to make demands at this point? Ask me some _important_ questions."

I decided to humor him, "Ok. What do you want with Adolphus Fletch?"

"Now, whoever told you about that?" He shook his head, "Adolphus created quite the ruckus up above. Most people feared him. I, however, found myself admiring your father. How could I not? He was the only human that had more power than the Silhouettes. Take his abilities and combine them with mine? We would be invincible, but I would never do that to him. Only wackos would try something like that."

I responded, "Then why does my dad think that is his name, again?"

He laughed at me again, "I said wackos—"

If I were able to move, I would have tackled him right then and there. I contemplated all of the different ways I could crush him if I had the capabilities of my dad. Instead, I was forced to my bed.

"Next question."

"Why are you here? I thought you were in London, recruiting."

"Your parents are not in London, so I remain here. Recruiting? Why did I not think of that?" he scratched his invisible head. "Contrary to what you believe, my plans are not that opaque. But, I would be lying if I said I didn't appreciate you trying to figure them out. I digress, I am here because something somewhere created me and gave me a mind of my own to make my own choices and decisions. I eventually hope to learn who that something was. Why do you think you are here?"

"You're dancing around my questions."

Lathon cracked his knuckles, "How would you like to see something extraordinary?"

I spat at him, "I don't want to see anything you want to show me."

He responded, "No, you will like this one. Everyone likes to see themselves in the early days. There are few things as delicious as nostalgia."

Lathon walked up to me and placed his right hand over my forehead. Instantly, the room began to spin and my head tilted down beyond my control. I began to dream:

When the world ceased to spin, I found myself standing in a field. My vision was filled as far as I could see with fresh vegetation. I breathed in the air, which smelt crisp and clean. I also appreciated the sky for shining a bright blue. Adding to the peace, there was no one there to bother me except for a young girl about ten years older than me running as fast as she possible could through the fields. I tried to look beyond her to see what she was running from, but all I could make out was tiny brown specks.

A wooden cabin appeared a few feet from where I stood. I pointed at the cabin, saying, "In here. In here now."

The woman thanked me when she caught up to my position and ran into the cabin. Something about her golden locks made her so familiar, but I could not put my finger on it.

The brown specks were coming into focus. They were miles away from me, but the size of their vicious incisors was unmistakable. The creatures were wolfhounds and they were hunting to kill. As they got closer, I took the hint and followed the girl into the cabin.

The cabin was completely empty. The ground was made completely of dirt. A deep, commanding voice startled me, "What brings you here, Maggie?"

My heart stopped. I was watching my mother when she still lived on Draio. The voice, however, was hard to identify. I tried to look around Mom but she was standing directly in front of the man confronting her.

Mom said, "Master, I beg you."

The voice laughed at her misery, "Now, what would drive Actoria to charge after you in the fields? Did you steal their favorite bone?"

Mom started to cry, which broke my heart. She said, "I do not know, Master. Please protect me. I will do anything."

She got on her knees and begged. I recognized his distinct face at once. Darius was skinnier than when I saw him in the bookstore. He resembled the pictures from the 1800s in his book.

Darius hummed a happy-sounding tune and winked at my mother. He reached out his hand and placed it firmly on her stomach.

He said, "Maggie, there comes a time in our lives when we have to choose which side we are really playing on. There are always two sides: lambs and wolves. Now would be the perfect time to decide." Darius pulled a knife from his pocket and held it against my mother's stomach. He said, "Are you a lamb or are you a wolf?"

He stared deeply into her hysterical eyes, "I bet you know exactly why they are chasing you."

I shook myself out of my trance. The ramifications of Darius being so close to my family since then was terrifying. The worst was the realization that the baby inside her had to be me. Then I—

I snapped out of my thoughts, "None of that was real. You are trying to turn me on to my friends."

Lathon talked on like he had not heard me, "Darius was a hybrid much like your father even if he tried his best to keep it under wraps. He was actually the fastest human to learn the arts of the Silhouettes. Your father was a fast learner, too. For Darius, It was only fitting that, like most humans, he would eventually abuse his power and expose his bigotry that he brought trailing with him like a flag in to Draio."

I attempted once again to break from my bindings, but it only got tighter with each struggle. My heart was pounding one hundred miles an hour and it was becoming nearly impossible to breathe. I said, "Why are you lying to me?"

Lathon continued, "He was the first to learn that Maggie and Reese were having a child. They did not tell him, of course. They knew not to tell anyone in those horrible times. Cross-house dating was already forbidden, which is why I told him."

I said, "Why did you—why—is—that—a—problem?"

"Just imagine if you throw a child into the mix. One word: dangerous. If you mix the gene pools of magical beings, the next thing is only—" he said as he mimed a small explosion with his hands. "Your mother was a special one. She was human—"

"Just—like—my—father."

Lathon chuckled like he couldn't be less bothered with how much pain I was in. He said, "With a few upgrades, I dare say. Oh, what am I kidding? You do not wish to see me babbel on. You would like to see it first hand, would you not?"

"Please—do—not—"

Before I could get the words out, he had already placed his hand on my forehead and I was transported back to Draio.

This time I was back in the cross roads where the forest, parks, and Ocean intersected. The sky was again blue and free from the fiery Hell that I had become accustomed to in my nightmares.

I was sitting down but I did not feel like I was sitting on the grass. I looked down, finding I was comfortable on a red, white, and black tablecloth. An intricately woven basket joined me to my right and on my left was a gorgeous blonde haired girl I knew without question was Mom. She was a little younger and she wore a white blouse along with a red skirt and a nice big pare of sunglasses that would have been ridiculous on anyone else but worked for her perfectly. I watched quietly as she let her uncovered toes dance against the warm grass, peacefully.

An object floated over my head. It glowed red, blue, and green but it moved too fast for me to be able to identify it as more than Frisbee-like. Before it could land about ten feet away from us, a blur of a man sped past us and caught it. When he stopped moving, I could tell it was a younger version of my father.

His hair was long, which must of have been par for the course for the men that lived on Draio. He had a small beard and had a regular old t-shirt and jeans on. It was different for me because I was only used to him wearing suits all of the time.

" _Mag, are we going to play catch or are you going to sit there and be a bore all day?"_

Mom smiled at him. She said, "I wouldn't want to wear you out!"

Dad's face cringed, "Your use of contractions is dreadful."

Mom took off her sunglasses, "And you sound like you hang out with the Silhouettes too much. You—are—on. Now, is that better?"

He said, "Perfect," and threw the object as hard as he could towards the ocean. They exchanged looks; Dad's was more like he was waiting for her to go get it, Mom's was to let it get as far as possible.

A couple of seconds later, Mom leapt up on all fours. Little white hairs popped out on different parts of her body in patches, slowly covering every inch. Her nose stretched out to be about a foot long, which would have made me leap in fear if only I could have moved. Mom was none too bothered. She had the care of someone who had been through this transformation many times before.

Eventually her nose rounded out, which was followed by her eyes growing into big white orbs. Her ears stretched upwards into the triangular shape of a canine's ears. The last things to go were her hands and feet. They grew to be five times their usual size and a tail popped out from her backside.

Her clothes were in torn up scraps off to the side from the switch. She was the most gorgeous wolf I had ever seen and she was huge, almost beastlike. I could feel the hairs on my back rising as I watched her shoot off towards the floating object, which she caught in no time at all just a few inches before it was going to crash into the water.

Dad applauded and jumped around like a happy kid. Mom galloped back to him and dropped it at his feet. She instantly switched back to human form, but I had to close my eyes. Everything went dark and the area was quiet around me—

I hardly had the energy to worry about anything any more. I wished Lathon would just finish me off. Death would be so much easier.

I used my final bit of energy to shout, "Why are you showing me all of this?"

Lathon mused, "I believe we are a lot a like. We both were part of painful beginnings. I was human once or at least they told me that I was. They could have told me anything and I would have believed them because as far as I can remember, this is all I have known. I opened my eyes and was held witness to a world that suddenly belonged to me. My people supposedly built it, but I never got the feeling that the Silhouettes truly were my people. Once I learned the truth, my revenge scheme has been on slow burn."

"We—are—nothing—alike."

He laughed, "Soon we will have more in common than you might suggest."

Lathon flicked his hand at me. I winced as I anticipated a blow. Instead, we were suddenly not alone in the room. Next to my bed stood LeCarre who was unharmed with the exception of the shadowy noose that Lathon had placed around his neck.

Lathon said, "This is where we learn if you are truly as powerful as your namesake would suggest, Alan. This will also test whether or not you care about this Silhouette. I want you to break from your binds and strike me down."

All of the air had been let out of the room. I had no idea how he expected me to make it out of his binds or survive for that matter.

I struggled some more, but I was on my final puffs of air. I said, "I c-c-an't."

Lathon shook his head, "You disappoint me. Let us raise the stakes."

The door opened. Jessica and Gerry entered who also had shadowy nooses around their necks. Their skin had paled over.

Lathon said, "Now, I am going to snap the youngling's necks if you do not break from my grip and strike me down. When I am done grinding their bones into fine powder, I am going to give LeCarre the permadeath he deserves. Sounds like fun? Let us make a game of it."

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to breathe in through my nose. I considered what Dad would have done in this situation—the Dad I knew. He would have used his imagination. It was crazy, but I was not going to let my friends die.

I said out loud, "These binds are not holding me. We are not in my room."

Lathon said, "What are you going on about?"

I opened my eyes, "These binds are not holding me. We are not in my room. You are not real. None of this real and I am not afraid of you."

Lathon jumped up, "I am as real as this world allows me to be." His confidence was beginning to whither.

I spoke again, louder, "THESE BINDS ARE NOT HOLDING ME. YOU CAN NOT HOLD ME."

I jutted my arms from their bindings. They stretched out. I was free. I stood up and looked Lathon directly in the spot where his eyes would be if he were still human. I was not sure how this was actually working but I was relishing every moment.

Lathon said, "I dare say this is one of the most preposterous ideas you have ever come up with."

I smiled, "I am free, aren't I?"

My body was acting under its own control. It was like someone else was moving my hands as I reached into Lathon's chest and pulled out the memory stone. It glowed a brighter red than before.

I held the stone in my hand and said, "This stone is empty," but my words were not my own. My lips moved on their own efforts, "You must realize Lathon that you could never hope to erase my memories."

The voice was my father's.

He continued, "Adolphus Fletch died with the revolution. He is a menace, and he is never coming back."

Lathon raised his hands to ready for an attack. He said, "Where are you, Reese? Come out and fight or are you just a coward?"

I could feel my mouth stretching into a grin, "And lose my advantage?"

Lathon's body violently began to shake, "WHERE ARE YOU?"

My right hand reached out and inserted itself back into Lathon's chest. A light appeared on my shoulder and slithered its way down until my entire right arm was shining with a golden glow.

The words came out in a whisper, but the sound encapsulated the room as I said, "Draio."

Cracks began to appear with tiny blue lights all over Lathon's body as the golden light on my arm surged forward. At the same time, the chokeholds he had on the LeCarres loosened up. They joined my side and shoved their own arms into Lathon's body to add to Dad's power.

LeCarre yelled, "It did not have to be this way, Andrew."

Lathon screamed, "IT ALWAYS HAD TO BE THIS WAY," and dissolved into a pile of dust on the floor.

I looked down at his remains. Just like Darius, he was gone—forever.

Dad released his grip on my body, allowing me to roam freely. Jessica and Gerry both group hugged me. LeCarre gave me a nodding approval. All I could manage to say was "Dad was actually there for me." He came through in the clutch, and it was really him and not some zombified version.

LeCarre said, "All of this time, we were too busy worrying that it would be Reese who would be ending the world. In the end, it was he that had to save it."

Dad's voice echoed in the room, "In the forest."

LeCarre nodded, "Come children, I know where we need to go."

LeCarre lead us out of the house and down the street. Peaches was more than happy to show us the way and act as our guide. She galloped her way down the street and darted towards the forest once we got to the park.

I was reluctant, "What is special about here? I have bad memories."

LeCarre said, "Through these woods is a portal to Draio. There are only six portals in this world. We had to get creative after awhile to stick one in Kansas."

Jessica and Gerry jumped for joy, but I was not sure I was ready. I said, "I am not sure that I want to go. I mean, why can't Mom and Dad just come back?"

LeCarre turned me around to face him, "It is where you belong. There is a lot of uncertainty up there that cannot be cured without your assistance. A range of species living as one."

Jessica stepped up and grabbed my hand, "I will be there with you every step of the way."

I smiled and, almost as if my heart was guiding me, ran at full speed through all of the trees and sticker bushes towards the center of the woods. Peaches followed closely behind with Jessica and Gerry holding up the back end.

LeCarre met us in the clearing where I had first met Lathon. Flashbacks of the night I saw his frame danced from tree to tree came to mind. The twigs that had been arranged to spell words by Peaches had been cleared out.

LeCarre allowed us to catch our breaths, "When you get there, walk forward and do not lose sight of the buildings."

Jessica and Gerry were hanging on his every word. I did not understand the plan. I said, "What?"

LeCarre said, "You will understand when you get there. It will be a safer place now that your dad is there," and drew lines in the shape of a door in the air in the middle of the clearing.

For me, it acted like a mirror as my reflection stared back at me. I said, "So, can we not just try London for awhile instead?"

He said, "London will be a dangerous place once the rogues over there figure out what has happened to Lathon. Draio will be the only safe place for you now."

Gerry shoved me out of the way and dove into the door headfirst. Jessica helped me up, saying, "He is a little rude sometimes. We will have to work on that," and took her own turn diving into Draio.

I stared at my reflection in the door. In it, I saw a boy who matched my height, wore the same clothes, and looked exactly the same. I couldn't figure out why that boy was so sad. Was it that he thought he finally found his way to peace?

I said, "All of this is just too easy. Does it really end here? LeCarre?"

A familiar silence filled the air. Along with it, came dread. I said, "LeCarre?"

I turned around, but LeCarre wasn't moving. A massive claw made out of smoke and shadows ripped through the center of his chest. Great tragedy painted over his apologetic eyes, he fell to his knees and landed on the ground face first.

"LECARRE!" I yelled out as I ran to him, but I received no response. I tried to turn him over but he was too heavy.

"Alan, Alan, Alan," said Lathon's voice. A prickly sensation came over my brain like he had invaded it. "I know we have only known each other for a short while, but surely you knew I could not be killed so easily. Now, you get to be the one to tell poor Jessica and Gerry that their father is dead. What a wonderful position LeCarre has put you in."

I said, "But how? How are you still alive?"

A maniacal laugh reverberated through the forest, "To recall a bit of our short past, did you really think I would risk my permadeath to show up here without a plan? Logic would permit that the memory stone was not empty, friend."

His shadowy body flew into mine, inserting itself in my brain, scratching at my mind like an angry cat. The pain was too unbearable for me to fight back. He said, "Now, you and I are one and the same. You can run on to Draio and endanger everyone that is left or you can stay here and destroy the world. Decisions, decisions, right?"

My limbs moved on their own. I fought back, trying to run away as Lathon pushed me closer to the reflective door, but it was no use. I had no control left. He had won.

Lathon said, "I will make the decision easy for you," and made my body leap straight through the door.

I was on my way to Draio, secretly harboring its destruction.

To be continued in _The Second Life_

Coming Winter _2013/2014_
