Page 7 of Created in Chaos
“Did you have a bad dream?” I question.
“Every time I close my eyes,” she answers, blinking slowly, as if it’s hard to keep them open.
“Tell me about it, maybe it will help,” I encourage her, knowing dreams can seem scarier before you voice them.
“It’s dumb.” Nova sighs softly.
“Tell me anyway.”
There’s a brief pause, but she finally says, “It’s like I’m stuck in tar—everything is going so slow, and it’s so dark. I can’t move or run, and there’s…”
“There’s what?” I prompt when it seems like she’s not going to continue.
“People in hoods or whatever.”
Lucian and I make eye contact. “Like the grim reaper?” I question, hoping this is more symbolic than literal. It was touch and go there for a little while.
“Maybe, but it’s a bunch of them. See? It’s dumb,” she admits softly.
“What kind of hoods?” Lucian pulls a chair over and sits right next to her bed.
“It’s just a dream, it seems stupid saying it out loud.” She dismisses his question, but I’m curious about her response too.
“Any markings on the robes? A crest maybe?”
Nova’s eyes narrow on me with suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No, it’s a serious question,” Lucian answers before I can, and his tone gives away just how important he thinks the inquiry is.
“I…I don’t think so, but it’s all pretty fuzzy. It was just a dream,” she tells him, but it seems like she’s questioning her own statement.
“Close your eyes and think about it. Are you sure there wasn’t a crest?” Lucian places his hand over his heart, indicating where it might be.
Nova watches him for a long moment. I think she’s about to deny him or tell him he’s crazy, but instead, she does as he asks, squinting her eyes in an effort to keep them closed. After another long second, she opens them and flattens her lips in disappointment. “I just remember the dark hoods coming at me, nothing else. Why is that important?”
“We just want to be sure,” he tells her, leaving important information out. There’s more to his question than worrying about a bad dream. The founders conduct most of their meetings within the college, and outside, under the guise of secrecy, they wear robes which are a staple from long ago. Ours are embroidered with the Cadieux College crest, two Cs surrounded by laurel leaves and flames, but other factions wear other symbols, and it seems far too coincidental that she would be dreaming about hooded figures. Maybe she’s remembering what happened to her. If that’s the case, then knowing what was on the robes could give us insight into who did this to her.
“You’re lying,” she accuses, which makes Lucian smirk. He gets off on her challenging him.
“Care to prove that, lamb?” he teases.
“I care to punch you in your pretty face.” She shifts a little and winces, which causes Lucian to drop the smile.
“I might just let you when you get up out of this bed,” he offers softly under his breath.
“I wouldn’t do it,” she admits, equally as quiet. “I just like pissing you off.”
“And you do it so well. Now rest so you can get the hell out of here. Hospitals give me hives.”
“You said you would tell me what happened,” she insists, ignoring his comment about hospitals.
“I didn’t say when I would tell you,” he counters, causing Nova to open her mouth in protest, but my brother silences her by pressing a gentle finger to her lips. “Besides, you need to sleep. Is that really what you want to be thinking about right now?”
“I don’t like not knowing what happened to me. I’m imagining all kinds of crazy things in my head. Just tell me, please.”
I watch Lucian crumble under her plea. His shoulders fall, and something inside him aches. He stands, looks at me for encouragement, then leans down and places his lips against the side of her face.
He’s going to tell her what we know.