What Lies Beneath ▸ House of Anubis [1]

chapter thirty-four. house of hazard

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Dreams are weird.

See now, I've been having some strange dreams of late. Ever since Nina came, ever since Joy disappeared, ever since I was dragged into the mystery of Anubis House. Those dreams are full of red eyes, and Sarah Frobisher-Smythe, and Corbierre the stuffed raven. Sometimes I see other things—like a blurry key, and some kind of pyramid. It feels like every night I have a dream that has a combination of these things. Never once is it even slightly normal.

Well, I guess dreams are your subconscious telling you things. My subconscious has been nothing but what lies beneath the house of Anubis for weeks now so it makes sense that my dreams would have these odd things. But there's more to my subconscious than just this.

Like Jerome Clarke.

I could not get this stupid idiot's eyes out of my mind as I fell asleep. Maybe that's why, in my dreams tonight, he's there. And honestly, the dream starts off quite normal—well, normal by pre-Nina standards. Dream-me has got her hand in the cookie jar—literally, I'm literally in the kitchen stealing cookies in what I think is the middle of the night, even there—when he appears out of nowhere (like it happens in dreams).

I can't remember exactly what Dream-Jerome said to Dream-Me. All I remember before shooting up in my bed, with the clock reading 4:47AM, is him slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him, kissing me deeply. It's at 4:47AM, the morning after the play, that the dream ends and a brief, horrified (and slightly enamored, adds the stupid subconscious) shriek falls out of my mouth.

Okay, now I miss the weird creepy dreams.

"Ash," Nina says sleepily, and I can see her figure moving in her bed to look at me. Somehow, Amber (whose bed is closer to mine than Nina's) is still sleeping peacefully. "Everything okay?"

"Um. Nightmare," I answer shortly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Huh. Do I want to talk about the dream I had in which I kissed the boy who was once my arch-enemy and is now kind of my friend whom I now apparently have complicated feelings about according to this dream? Not really.

"Weeping angels," I answer still, lying through my teeth.

Weeping angels—those creepy statues from Doctor Who (Alfie got me into it—I've got to say, I think Donna's my favorite companion, and he said that made sense and refused to elaborate). God, I hate those things. Even watching those episodes, I refused to blink when they were on screen. I haven't actually watched any of those since.

It's not exactly a lie, per say. Those things do terrify me, and I have had a nightmare where they were there and trying to get me. It just... wasn't tonight's nightmare. If it was a nightmare. No, definitely a nightmare. It was not a pleasant dream. Well... shut up, subconscious!