Page 82 of A Subtle Scar
I knew exactly where I was, and I knew it was a dream. This was the FIS, the hallway leading to my office, and Victor was running, his footfalls echoing strangely.
“Vic, stop.” I jogged after him.
Idiot. It was a dream, and nothing else. Vic was wearing the navy polo shirt, the same one I had been wearing, of course. Mom had pointed at me when the cop had asked, and they’d taken a photo of me to distribute wide for their search.
“Vin! Vinnie! Fast as you can!”
I pushed my office door open and found behind it not my desk, but the Brunswick morgue. Victor was standing in front of the cooling units, looking at the closed doors.
“Did you know, you can’t really be sad when you are inside? The sad people are all on the outside.”
Because this was a dream, Victor’s lips weren’t moving. There was a dirt stain on his pants. We’d been playing outside that day, in the woods near the mansion. Victor liked it there because of all the plants, but we’d not been supposed to get our clothes dirty, and he’d been annoyed about it. I’d completely forgotten about that detail until now.
“Victor, let’s go. This isn’t a place for children.”
“It’s not a place for the living, so I can be here. You’re always running and never catching me, Vinnie. Let’s try again!”
He dashed past the slabs and to the door. This time, I wasn’t jogging but full out running. It got me to the door and through it, but instead of obeying the rules of space, I came out in a field. Wheat. Victor’s black head of hair was just visible above the ears of corn.
I followed him. This was the field from the crime scene photos. Our last victim had been found there.
Victor was waiting for me in an area that was trampled flat, just like in the picture. Crime scene tape framed it, and someone had lost a nitrile glove. The black material stuck out between the bent wheat.
“I’m not really here, you know. Why do you keep chasing me in places where I’m not, Vinnie?”
He had been found in a field though. The crop had been harvested. And his body had been placed on the cold earth. When I’d gotten my credentials with the FIS, I’d requested the file because I’d dreamed about it since the night before he had been found, a dream that recurred every now and then, to this day, and I’d needed to make sure I wasn’t crazy.
“Because you won’t fucking stop. Vic, stop, please? Please stop.”
“You first,”Victor said.
The dream ghost turned toward me and grinned like he’d always done when he’d had a stupid or daring idea, it was never really clear which until later. Then he ran at me.
I was shocked, surprised, and took a step backward. Victor just ran through me.
“Vic? Vic!”
I ran where he should have gone. He wasn’t there. I kept running, deeper into the ears of corn, the wheat brushing against my clothes. The grain grew as I ran, but I didn’t stop. I kept calling my brother’s name. He wasn’t there. He was nowhere. He was gone. The wheat had grown taller than me now, blocking out the sun.
I stopped, put my hands on my knees to catch my breath, and the wheat disappeared, leaving spring green grass in its wake, the smell of earth warmed by the sun. The Jardin Anglaise.
A small shadow appeared in my line of sight.
“It’s okay to stop, Vinnie. I want you to.”
I straightened. I felt dizzy for a moment and blinked against the world turning around me. The Jardin vanished, and I dropped backward, landing on something soft.
“There he is.”
“Yeah, that’s much better. Yes, that’s it. Open your eyes, baby. Fuck, you scared us,” Hermes said.
“Huh?”
They were both bent over me and staring at me. Charon’s shoulders relaxed, and a sliver of hair rushed down, pooling on my chest. “You did a thing. A psychic thing?”
“Almost like the fake psychics used to, with the eyes all rolled back and the whites showing,” Hermes added. “Very impressive. But don’t do it again. I didn’t really like it.”
“Can’t do that. Can only do psychometry,” I said and lifted my hands to illustrate. “Need to touch things and get into a fugue.”
