The Seeker: Dreamer Part 1

DREAMER.

The Seeker Series.

By Amy Reece.

DEDICATION.

For all the girls who are brave enough to follow their dreams. And for the boys who hold them through the nightmares.

CHAPTER ONE.

"And there was a large, dark blankness in my mind, a deep fog of unknowing."

-Madeleine L'Engle.

December 22.

Galway City, Ireland.

The darkness was utter and complete. I was awake but could see nothing. I tried to wave my hand in front of my face, but I discovered both hands were bound together tightly with what felt like duct tape. I tried to move my legs and realized they were unbound, but wedged against something. I began to panic, trying to scream, but my mouth was taped shut. What was happening to me? Wait, was it me? Was I me? Suddenly, my body was thrown against the wall in front of me; I realized I was on the floor of the backseat of a vehicle of some sort. Was I being kidnapped? Why? Who would want to kidnap me? Was I going to be killed? I went into full-blown freak-out mode, sobbing and beginning to hyperventilate. Would I ever see my family again? My somewhat odd, but always loving grandmother, my devoted mother, my best friend in the world, Tara? And Jack. I choked on a sob as I thought of him, more of a prayer than anything else. I mourned the life we might have had together; the love, maybe even the children we would someday have. What would happen to the tiny life I carried within my womb? What would Scott do when I wasn't waiting for him? Wait...what? I wasn't pregnant! And who the heck was Scott?

I woke myself up, sobbing and covered in sweat. I looked around, momentarily confused by my unfamiliar surroundings. Where was I? Was I still in the hospital? No, now I remembered I was in my hotel room in Galway City, Ireland. Ca.s.sie and I had arrived early this evening and after a quick, yet elegant meal in the hotel dining room, I had wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. This horrible nightmare was no doubt a result of jet lag after flying from New Mexico to Ireland and eating right before bed. I stopped to listen for movement from Ca.s.sie, occupying the suite's adjoining bedroom, but heard nothing. Good. She had been as exhausted as me and didn't deserve to be disturbed. The bedside digital clock read 3:30 a.m., but I knew I wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon, so I got out of bed, s.h.i.+vering in the December chill. I don't even know what time my body thought it was. I got myself a gla.s.s of water from the bathroom, then went to the window and pulled back the curtains to look down into Eyre Square. I could barely make out the tents and canopies of the Christmas Market. When we had checked in this evening, the young woman at the reception desk had let us know that tomorrow-now today-would be the last day of the market, so we should be sure to save some time to explore.

As I looked down into the city center, I found myself thinking back over the incredible chain of events that led me to spend my Christmas break here in Ireland instead of with my family and friends back home in Albuquerque. It all started in late October with a vision in the middle of my English cla.s.s; a vision of a pregnant Veronica Albluth. Well, she was no longer pregnant. That steroid-shooting monster, Coach Trevino, also her baby daddy, had seen to that when he beat the c.r.a.p out of her. He beat the c.r.a.p out of me too, and I had the st.i.tches in the back of my head to prove it. I also had a really unattractive bald spot where the ER doctor had to shave my head to put in the st.i.tches. I know I shouldn't be so upset over this, but it was my freaking hair! I should have hit him a lot harder. Anyway, the visions continued and intensified. Now I was even having visions of the future, both of which had already come true, exactly as I had seen. Well, one of them wasn't an earth-shattering vision or anything, but still! I had seen Jack's little sister lose her first front tooth weeks before she actually lost it. And Jack...yeah. He was new to my school this year, and although we were in the same grade, he was two years older than me because of some bad decisions during his first year of high school, which caused him to fall behind. He never even spoke to me until I started freaking out in cla.s.s, nearly pa.s.sing out-actually pa.s.sing out once, but Jack wasn't there-during a vision. One thing led to another, Jack finally got off probation, and we were now dating. Okay, that's a bit of an understatement, because I am completely and totally in love with Jack Ruiz. He says he loves me too. I smoothed my fingers over the charm bracelet he gave me for my birthday last Sat.u.r.day. And now I was here in Galway to meet with the Seer Council to find out why I was developing some really crazy powers, thanks to the fact that I have druid blood flowing through my veins.

I s.h.i.+vered again, wis.h.i.+ng I had packed a robe, and decided to crawl back under the covers. I reached over to pick up the book from the nightstand I had started to read before I went to sleep, more out of habit than anything else; I hadn't made it through a full paragraph before drifting off. I couldn't even remember what I had read, so I decided to start again. A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle. I had borrowed the dusty old hardcover from my English teacher, attracted by the poetic t.i.tle. I had thrown it in my carry on, thinking it would be a good idea to have at least one real book in addition to my Kindle. As I opened it now, I noticed an inscription I hadn't seen before: Merry Christmas, Ashley 1983 Love, Mom and Dad. On the inside cover was a bookplate stating This Book Belongs to Ashley Hayes. The first line of the book was one of those that drew you in and made you want to keep reading: I saw him for the first time at the funeral. This time I lasted for at least ten pages before I found myself drifting back to sleep.

I woke up late the next morning with the weak winter sunlight streaming in from the window. I guess I had left the curtains open when I couldn't get back to sleep the night before. I looked over at the digital clock, which I couldn't read because of the note propped up against it.

Decided to let you sleep in. Get some rest and meet me downstairs in the lobby when you're ready.

Ca.s.sie I moved the note and saw it was already 10:00 a.m., but I appreciated Ca.s.sie letting me sleep in. It was a bit awkward traveling all the way to Ireland with her; I mean, I didn't really know her very well, after all. I had met her last month when my grandmother took me to see her in sort of a counseling role. Ca.s.sie and I (and my grandmother and mother, for that matter) were all psychics because our ancestors were druids. This psychic power was pa.s.sed on to the females in the family; it was most often a type of enhanced intuition of one sort or another. But then I came along, and apparently I was like the most powerful Seer in several generations or something. Anyway, Grams, Mom, and Ca.s.sie all thought it would be a good idea if I came to Ireland to meet with the Seer Council, a group of women with this same type of psychic power who kind of watch out for all the families. I was really dreading the whole thing. I would much rather be at home in good old Albuquerque, NM, spending the holidays with my family and with Jack and his family. Sigh.

I got up, took a leisurely shower (only was.h.i.+ng my bangs because of the st.i.tches-so disgusting), dressed in layers so I'd be ready for sightseeing, and strolled down to the lobby of the hotel, enjoying the ambiance along the way. We were staying in the historic Meyrick Hotel, right in the center of Galway City. It was beautiful, with lots of marble and warm colors everywhere. I walked across the black and white marble tile of the lobby and found Ca.s.sie sitting in an easy chair in front of one of the many fireplaces, typing busily on her laptop. She looked up as I sat down in the adjacent chair.

"Oh, good morning, Ally." She looked up from her computer. "Are you feeling more rested today? I'll order some tea and scones to tide you over until lunch, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. That sounds great. Thanks."

She typed for a moment more, then closed her laptop and hailed one of the many hovering waiters. She ordered tea and an a.s.sortment of goodies and then took a good look at me. "You still look tired, Ally. Didn't you sleep well?"

I considered telling her about my nightmare, but decided it was pretty lame. Why would she want to know about that? It was simply the result of jet lag, and oh yeah, the absolutely horrific week I had leading up to this trip. "I never sleep very well the first night in a new place. I'm sure I'll catch up tonight. I'm fine." I tried to brush off her concern.

"Okay. Well, after we have some tea, why don't we go and explore the town a bit?"

"Sure. It might be fun to check out the Christmas Market. I didn't have a chance to do any Christmas shopping before we left and I'd love to find some really different gifts here."

"Oh, my dear, yes," a small, older woman said as she approached our sitting area. She was wearing an extremely floral dress ensemble complete with matching hat. She also wore a "h.e.l.lo My Name is Caoimhe" nametag. I was staring at her name, trying to figure out how in the world to p.r.o.nounce it when she held out her hand, and said in a lovely Irish lilt, "So sorry to interrupt, but I heard you talking about the Market. I live in a little town outside Galway, so I know all the best sights to see. My name is Caoimhe." She p.r.o.nounced it 'Kwee-va'.

I shook her hand saying, "Wow, that's a really cool name."

"Ah, thank you, my dear. That's very sweet." Only it sounded more like, 'Ah, thanka m'dear. That's verra sweet." I was completely charmed, thinking she was a dream grandma. I mean, I love my Grams, but she has a few quirks. This lady looked like the kind of grandma who would authentically greet you after school with tea and cookies. My grandmother only does that when she's fis.h.i.+ng for information.

"Lovely to meet you, Caoimhe," Ca.s.sie said. "Are you here with the gardening convention?"

"Oh, yes. There's quite a group of us here. We have to meet in the winter since we're all so busy actually gardening in the spring." She chuckled.

Ca.s.sie and I both laughed politely. Ca.s.sie introduced us, simply saying we were on vacation.

"Oh, and here's Fionnuala. Come and meet these lovely Americans, Fionnuala!" Caoihme called to another woman walking toward us.

We invited them to join us for a cup of tea, which they did, proving to be a wonderful source of information for sights to see around Galway.

"Now, be sure to stop by the Spanish Arch and the Lynch Window. You surely don't want to miss those," Fionnuala said.

"And do stop by Dillon's Claddagh shop on Quay Street. What a perfect gift a Claddagh ring would be for your young man!" Caoimhe enthused.

"How do you know...?" I began. I noticed Ca.s.sie giving her a rather sharp look.

"Oh, my dear! A girl as pretty as you surely has a young man, now don't you?"

I know I blushed. I also didn't say anything.

"Ah, there now. I knew it. What's his name? Do you have a picture? Tell me all about him, dear," Caoimhe urged.

"Well," I stammered. "His name is Jack and, um, I don't know. He's really nice and very good-looking..."

"Surely you have a picture? What kind of girl doesn't carry a picture of her young man?" Fionnuala chimed in.

I reached into my back pocket for my iPhone and scrolled through the photos until I found a good picture of Jack I had taken a few weeks ago. I handed it to the ladies.

They oohed and ahhed over his picture in a way sure to win my approval. They were both rather sweet. Caoimhe handed my phone back saying, "He's a keeper, all right. Well, thank you for the tea, but we'll let you get on with your day of sightseeing now. Have fun. Come along, Fionnuala." They were gone with a whiff of floral perfume.

"Well, they were interesting," I said.

"Yes." Ca.s.sie sniffed. "Shall we take their advice and do some sightseeing and shopping this afternoon?"

"Sounds good. Give me a few minutes and I'll meet you back down here."

CHAPTER TWO.

"Who is it that can tell me who I am?"

ShakespeareKing Lear (1.4.230).

Ca.s.sie and I spent a wonderful, if chilly, afternoon searching through the stalls at the Christmas Market, finding some unique gifts to take home to our family members. Grams and Mom aren't much for trinkets, but I bought some beautiful Celtic design pendants I knew they would love. Grams prefers simple jewelry, so I chose a lovely Celtic knot design in sterling silver for her. For Mom, I found a lovely tree of life pendant I knew she would like. I picked out a bracelet with linked Celtic crosses for Tara. I was suddenly glad I hadn't had a chance to do any Christmas shopping before I left; I wouldn't have found anything this cool at the mall back home. I had downloaded an app before I left Albuquerque to figure out the euro to U.S. dollar conversion and figured I was keeping fairly well within my budget, all things considered. I was making some serious inroads into my babysitting money, but Grams and Mom had both slipped me some extra spending money for the trip. Ca.s.sie and I decided to devote today to shopping and save the sightseeing for tomorrow and the next day.

I told Ca.s.sie I wanted to check out the Claddagh shop Caoimhe had told us about. Jack had given me a beautiful charm bracelet for my birthday, and I thought it might be nice to get him one of the rings for his birthday, which was in a few weeks. I had to decide if I had the guts to buy him a ring. Was it too cheesy? Was I presuming too much? Did he even like jewelry? I have never had to buy a present for a man since I don't have a father, uncle, or grandfather in my life. What did I really know about Jack, anyway? I knew he liked cars and that was about it. Aagh! I was freaking out right there on Quay Street. I stopped on a nearby bench, put my head into my hands and tried to breathe. Ca.s.sie sat by me, reaching over to brush my hair back, as it had fallen over my face.

"Hey, what's wrong, sweetie? Are you tired? Do you need to go rest? I know you probably haven't fully recovered from your injuries yet."

I looked up at her with a horrified expression. "How on earth do you pick out gifts for a guy, Ca.s.sie? I want to get Jack a Claddagh ring but I'm afraid he'll think it's stupid or lame..." Yep. I verbally vomited a rant of insecurities for a good two minutes. When I finally stopped to suck in a breath, Ca.s.sie laid a hand on my arm to calm me down.

"Stop, Ally. You are working yourself into a froth."

I looked at her and nodded.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you want to buy Jack one of those rings? What's your reasoning?"

"Well, I've always thought they were beautiful and I really like what they symbolize: love, friends.h.i.+p, and loyalty. I think it's a perfect description of what I feel for him, and then there's the whole Irish aspect to it. Is it lame? Will he think I'm pus.h.i.+ng?"

She laughed a little bit. "Oh, I really doubt he'll think you're pus.h.i.+ng. Didn't he get you a bracelet with a compa.s.s rose on it? And I don't think it's lame at all. We'll make sure to find a nice masculine design. If it truly symbolizes how you feel about him, then it's a perfect gift. And don't worry too much about future shopping for him, or any man in your life. A man who's in love with you usually doesn't care too much at all about gifts. I find they almost always prefer you wrapped up in something s.e.xy for them to unwrap," she finished with a knowing smile.

"Ca.s.sie!" I exclaimed. "Really? I mean, it's good to know, but Jack and I don't...I mean, we haven't...well, yet...but someday...if everything...you know."

She laughed and pulled me up from the bench. "Come on. Let's find this shop. I think I might need to buy one of those rings for Gregory as well," she said, referring to her gorgeous fiance, whom she was planning to marry in June. "And tomorrow, we desperately need to find a hair salon for you because, d.a.m.n girl, those doctors did a number on your hair. No offense, sweetie."

"None taken," I said ruefully while reaching up to straighten my slouch beanie, which had nearly fallen off my head, prompting Ca.s.sie's rude, yet truthful comment about my hair. I had to have 17 st.i.tches in the back of my head, courtesy of a close encounter with a gla.s.s trophy case. The doctors had shaved off a healthy chunk of hair to clear the area and I didn't know if any salon would be able to disguise it. I would finally be able to give myself a gentle wash tomorrow morning. I had been carefully was.h.i.+ng my bangs since Friday, but a full wash was forbidden until tomorrow. My head had never felt more disgusting and itchy, and now I was going to have to find a new hairstyle. I had been wearing my bright red hair curling well below my shoulder blades with longish bangs I would sweep to the side. I was hoping I didn't end up with some butch-looking haircut, because I really, really didn't think I could pull it off.

We found the jewelry shop, Thomas Dillon's Claddagh Gold, on the corner of William Street and Quay Street and entered the bright yellow door set in the red-painted brick wall. We decided to look into the attached museum before shopping, thinking some background info might be a good idea. The museum had displays for many of the various legends of the Claddagh ring, but the one I liked the best was the story of Richard Joyce, who was captured by an Algerian corsair on his way to the West Indies and sold as a slave to a Moorish goldsmith. In 1689, when King William III of England demanded all the slaves be set free, the goldsmith tried to convince Richard to stay and marry his daughter. But Richard refused, determined to return to Galway to the girl he had left behind. He set up shop as a goldsmith and made her the first Claddagh ring. Now there's romance for you. It should be made into a movie. Sigh. Well, I quickly discovered my true love would have to settle for sterling silver, rather than 18 carat or even rose gold. I did not have 500 or so euros to spare, no matter how much I loved him. I found a beautiful ring for about 60 euros, including the engraving 'love, Ally.' Apparently Ca.s.sie had more disposable income to throw around than I did because Gregory would be getting a gold ring. Oh well, it's the thought that counts. I splurged and bought a matching one for myself, caught up in the romance of the whole thing. If Jack poo-pooed the idea of us wearing matching rings, well, I was screwed. Before I could freak myself out again, Ca.s.sie steered me out of the store and down the street to a charming teashop called The Secret Garden so we could warm up with afternoon tea and scones.

I stayed up late that night so I could Skype Jack, calculating if it was 1:00 a.m. in Galway it would be 6:00 p.m. in Albuquerque and he would be home from work. I kept myself awake by reading more in the book I brought, A Ring of Endless Light, which turned out to be a story about a girl who was dealing with a lot of deaths in her life. Sounds depressing, I know, but it wasn't. The girl was a little younger than me and found out she had the ability to communicate telepathically with dolphins, which was really cool. I wondered if I would be able to do that, what with my burgeoning psychic powers and all. Hmm, where could I find a dolphin to try it out on? Reading about the protagonist's emotional journey was helping me think more clearly about what I had been through over the past few months. Anyway, it was turning out to be a pretty good book. I texted Jack to let him know to log on and then there he was-I missed his handsome face so much! I wish I could have the real thing, but this digital version was good in a pinch.

"Hey, beautiful. What time is it there?" Jack asked.

"It's about 1:00 a.m. Jack, are you naked?" Darn this pixelation! I could make out an expanse of brown chest, but not much else.

He laughed. "No. I have pants on. I'm not into naked Skyping. I just got out of the shower. Let me grab a s.h.i.+rt real quick." He stepped away from his monitor.

"Don't get dressed on my account," I called to him.

I could hear him chuckling as he came back to the computer, pulling a white t-s.h.i.+rt over his head. "I'll get naked as soon as you do, querida. Now let me look at you. How are you feeling? I still think it was too soon for you to hop on a plane overseas. Are you tired? Has Ca.s.sie let you get any rest? And why are you staying up so late to talk to me?"

"Calm down, Jack. One thing at a time. I'm fine. Ca.s.sie let me sleep in late and we did some shopping this afternoon. I'm staying up late because I miss you like crazy."

"Yeah, I miss you too. This sucks."

"I completely agree." We stared at each other for a minute, which seemed weirdly awkward on Skype, although we could spend lots of time together at home not talking.

"You still look tired, babe," he said with a worried look on his face.

"Oh, I'm fine. I need to get used to sleeping here, that's all. I miss my pillow." I told him about the hotel and meeting the cute little old ladies this morning and how pretty all the Irish accents were. I didn't tell him about the ring I had bought, since I wanted to keep it secret until his birthday later in January. I told him Ca.s.sie was taking me to get my hair fixed the next day. "Will you still love me if I come home with freaky hair?"

"You know I will. I love your hair, but it doesn't matter what you do with it. I would prefer, however, if you don't mess with the color. At least we'll still have that. And even if they mess it up, it will grow out, sweetheart. Don't worry, okay? Please?"

"Yeah, I know. It's stupid. It's only hair. It makes me mad."

"Believe me, I understand. That a.s.shole Trevino better hope I never get a chance to be alone with him," Jack fumed.

"I can't tell you how much I wish we were together right this second so I could wrap my arms around you and kiss you really, really good."

"Back at you. Go to bed, okay? I love you."

"Love you too. Bye." I finished on a yawn, disconnected, and fell back on my pillow, pulling the comforter up as I went.

December 26 I had spent the last few days exploring Galway with Ca.s.sie. Caoimhe and Fionnuala even took us to see a few of the sights they especially recommended, including the Spanish Arch and the Lynch Window, where in 1493 the mayor of Galway hanged his own son for murdering a young Spanish man. Apparently the mayor's son thought there was more to their friends.h.i.+p than just friends.h.i.+p-wink, wink-and stabbed him when the feelings were not reciprocated. Jeez, drama much? Find a new boyfriend and move on. Anyway, this is supposedly where the word 'lynching' originated. I was going to return to Albuquerque full of useless little tidbits like this. The ladies were wonderful tour guides; if you want to get the inside scoop on a new city, find some locals to hang around with. They took us to lunch at a friend's house and we got to sample some real Irish cooking; no touristy stuff for us. Their friend's name was Maire-p.r.o.nounced Myra-another very sweet elderly lady, who prepared some very tasty little hand-held pies stuffed full of vegetables, a mashed potato dish with cabbage and leeks called colcannon, and a delicious lemon tart for dessert. I wondered how Maire knew I was a vegetarian. Maybe she was, too, and it was simply a happy coincidence.

Ca.s.sie made good on her promise to take me to a salon to get my poor hair fixed. She found a high-end salon and treated me to a spa day, including a facial, mani-pedi, and haircut and style. I walked out of there polished, buffed, and with a lot less hair. I ended up with a short bob with a shorter, layered back-the stylist worked really hard to disguise the giant missing chunk-long front, and side-swept bangs.

"Wow, Ally. You look...so sophisticated. I can't believe how much older you look. Wow," Ca.s.sie enthused. "Do you like it?"

"I don't know yet. I never planned to go this short." I ran my hands through the short, short back. The stylist had been very careful around my st.i.tches and you really couldn't tell from the back there was a missing chunk-as long as I styled it correctly, which she had shown me. "I'll have to get used to it. Like Jack said, it's only hair and it will grow back."

"That's the spirit. I bet he's going to love it."

He did say he loved it on when I Skyped to thank him and Megan for the cheerleader charm to add to my bracelet. Megan had handed me the small package at the airport and made me promise not to open it until Christmas morning. Jack made me model my new haircut from all the different angles and said he could hardly wait to run his fingers through it, which made Megan giggle. She told me I looked like a grown-up, so I guess I could live with it. It's not like I had much choice, anyway. Jack then sent Megan out of his room so we could talk privately. I could hear her singing, "Jack and Ally, sitting in a tree..." as she skipped out of the room.

"I am so sorry about that," Jack said, shaking his head.

"Oh, don't worry about it. You know I think she's adorable."

"So, how are you doing? Really doing, querida? Are you nervous about the meeting tomorrow?"

His sweet concern did much to calm my nerves. "Yeah, I'm a little nervous, but I mostly want to get it all over with. I'm seriously ready to be with you, Jack, and not only see you onscreen."

"Right back at you, babe. I need to have you here in my arms. For now, I'm going to let you go and get some sleep. I love you, you know."