Ink (Book 1 of the Ink Series)

Ezra

I rolled over in my bed. Karsen was arched up in a ball at the reverse end. John Mayer's saintly voice filled the room, making it a great deal easier to stay dead to the world. I clutched my pillow, thinking about Slade one last time before I drifted back to sleep.

It was a slumber not like anything I ever experienced before. I was plunging through darkness, not knowing where I was falling. This was the only clue that I was asleep. The sensation was terrifying. I flapped my arms from side to side through the infinite expanse of shadows. No sound able to escape my lips.

And then it stopped.

There I lay on my bedroom floor. Only this wasn't quite my room. The floor was blood red, not purple. And the walls were enclosed in a repugnant flowery print.

I lifted my head, looking around. The room housed only me and my personal effects. I poked at my computer and phone to get a feel of how genuine this was or wasn't. What kind of dream was this? I thought to myself.

A bitter chill slid down my spine. I turned around for no other reason than impulse. A youthful girl stood facing me. Coffee brown hair cascaded down her slender frame right past her ample chest and finished right before her petite waist. Her skin was porcelain, her lips a pale shade of rose. She was eye-catching, to say the least.

"Go ahead. Say something," she said at last. I watched her lips press decisively back together. They were full and so magnetizing. And then I wondered why I was fantasizing over another girl's Angelina Jolie-like lips. She brought a hand to her hip. "That means you speak."

I opened my mouth, producing a weak murmur. This did not sit well with whoever this girl was standing in front of me. "Are you all this dumb? I really would think he had some principles by now," she said to herself. She took a seat on my double bed.

"I'm sorry. I don't know who you are. Am I dreaming?" I said, pleased that I fashioned some kind of vocabulary.

Her eyes studied mine. It seemed she was really trying to figure out if I was serious. "This is your dream. Hope, isn't it?" She plucked a piece of fluff off her gray sweater.

"Yeah. Hope. Who are you and how frequently do people dream about people they never seen before?" I asked, stepping a little nearer to her.

A fire ignited in her eyes. "I'm Ezra. I'm surprised you don't know about me. I'm Slade's...hmm...what would you call it? Oh, yeah. I'm Slade's previous girlfriend." She drew in her bottom lip, biting down with her teeth, her eyes watching mine narrowly.

I was meeting Slade's girlfriend in a dream? I didn't even think this could be likely. I knew this wasn't possible. But there she stood, a manifestation that somehow my brain invented. And it did an immense job because she was stunning.

Ezra waved a hand, standing in front of me all of a sudden. I wondered when she got up because I hadn't taken my eyes off of her. Then I reminded myself it was a nightmare. She could do what she wanted in a nightmare. Even in mine.

"I came to tell you to stay away. And sure, don't believe me. Think this is just some fantasy of your mind's eye." She pressed down on my foot. I winced in pain. "Think it all you want. But I want to make a point now before you get in way over your head."

I leaned back as she gathered my collar in her clenched fist. "You keep away from him. Slade is not the only one who has power. Did he tell you who I am?"

I shook my head in fear of her. She held my stare, her emerald eyes piercing into me.

"I'm a witch. My family is from an extended line of the most influential coven and I advise you once, and only once, to stay away from him. DO you understand me?"

I weighed my alternatives mutely. I could choose to believe this dream or I could remind myself that it was only a dream and test it. I took a deep mouthful of air. "If you're such a witch why would you have to show up in my dream? Seems kind of standard to me."

Her entire body started quivering. She whipped her head to the side, her grasp still firmly on my shirt. "I told you," she growled.

"Slade can date anyone he wants. You're not real, you're in my dream."

She released my shirt, shoving me at the same time. I flew all the way through the air like a rag doll, slamming into my desk. "Oh, he picked such an impressive one this time. This ought to be fascinating," she said to herself.

"You're not real," I told her for a second time.

"I was real."

I shrugged. "Isn't the same as is. And. Your. Not. Real."

Her expression overflowed with rage. She released a deafening shriek, headed for me, her pointed nails tearing the length of my chest. I screamed, trying to pry her off of me. Her hair spilling across her face. Her hand clamping down on my collar. I struggled to break free, breathless, battering my head from side to side.

"Hope!" Karsen screamed at me. She was holding on to her face, her hand covering her eye.

"Get away from me!" I yelled, sitting up in my bed.

"You were having a bad dream," Karsen said, looking puzzled. She came near me, pulling at my t-shirt, her hand probing my skin. "What is that?" Karsen's eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment. "I think Slade did some damage tonight. But the bizarre thing is, I don't remember seeing any marks on you at the concert." She handed me my hand mirror, sitting at the edge of my bed.

"Omigod," I said, my jaw falling open. Angry crimson scratch marks ran from my collar bone to my chest. I ran my hand up my neck, lifting my chin.

"Are those handprints?" Karsen said, looking uneasy. "You need to tell him to lay off."

"This wasn't Slade," I said low. "And why are you holding your eye?"

Karsen removed her hand revealing a puffed-up red mark below her eye. "You kicked me in the face with your stupid foot. I thought someone was butchering you."