Dreamseeker Read Online Free

recorded the path I had walked through the dreamscape, along with notes about any doors I had opened. Their patterns reminded me of the glowing lines that had appeared inside the Shadows’ Gate just before we crossed through it, as well as the codex that I’d activated later to get us home. They were all maps, I understood now, only they charted metaphysical currents instead of roads. Maybe if I studied enough of them I could learn how to read them—or even design them—and then I could—
    Do what? Travel between the worlds again?
    The mere thought of it made me shiver.
    â€œJesse!” Aunt Rose’s voice resounded up the staircase and through my bedroom door. “Breakfast!”
    I glanced at the window. There was light seeping in around the edges of the heavy shade. I’d slept longer than usual.
    â€œJesse?”
    â€œI hear you!” I yelled. “I’ll be right down.”
    I tried to do a quick sketch of the girl (boy?) I had seen in my dream, but my drawing came out looking like a cartoon. Try as I might to capture the patterns that had flowed across her body, they were already fading from memory, angles and lines slithering from my mental grasp before I could commit them to paper.
    Start without me,
I wanted to yell down to her, but I knew that she would never do that. Food was more than physical nourishment to Aunt Rose, it was a vehicle of emotional bonding. Which meant that family meals had existential significance, and she wouldn’t start this one until all of us were present.
    With a sigh I finally closed the sketchbook, slipped on a robe, and turned the lamp off. Then, with the pad tucked under my arm, I headed downstairs to join my family.

    Coming home.
    It should feel good, shouldn’t it? Especially after spending time in a parallel universe as terrifying as the one called Terra Prime, being hunted by shapechangers and angry undead. Home was familiar. Home was safe. Home was the one place where you could relax and be yourself.
    That was the theory, anyway.
    But the home that I’d known all my life was gone. The house I’d grown up in was ash. A lifetime of artwork, into which I’d poured my very soul, ash. My journal, my computer, my schoolbooks, my jewelry, the dolls that I’d kept since childhood because they brought back special memories . . . all of it gone forever. You didn’t appreciate how much those things kept you grounded until you lost them all.
    Tommy was still around, and in some ways we were closer than ever, but he wasn’t the same kid he’d been before. We both slept with kitchen knives under our pillows now, and I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use his if he had to. Granted, some of the nasty things thatmight come calling were not flesh and blood, but at least we’d be prepared to face those that were.
    He told me that late at night he sometimes heard voices. As if people were whispering by his bedside, too softly for him to make out the words. He said they sounded like the ghosts in Shadowcrest, so these were probably ghosts as well. But were they local spirits, drawn to the strange boy who could sense their presence, or something more ominous? Shadowlord spies, perhaps. Spirits of the dead who had followed Tommy home from his prison cell in Shadowcrest.
    Neither of us sleep much these days.
    As for Mom, she was alive, but her spirit was sorely wounded. The night our house burned down she’d managed to escape the flames, but not before inhaling more smoke than human lungs were meant to contain. She’d stopped breathing altogether on the way to the hospital (the EMTs told us later) and though they managed to bring her back to life, apparently something in her brain had gotten damaged in the process.
    Don’t be discouraged,
the doctors told us.
She may get better over time.
But it was clear from the way they talked to us that they didn’t really believe that.
    Some days weren’t