He wheeled and raced out the back door.
Beforehe knew it, he found himself back where he’d been the last time, in the backyard of the empty house. He looked around wildly, saw a break in the lattice work under the deck, and crawled through, wood snapping as he pushed his way in, splinters digging in, blood welling up.
When he got inside, he turned around and huddled there, hugging knees that stank of dirt, his arms striped with blood.
Blood.
He remembered the blood.
He shot forward, gagging, stomach clenching, head pounding, the images slamming against his skull. He kept gagging until he threw up. Then he sat there, hugging his legs again as the tears rolled down his face.
Gran was right.
I am a monster.
And I don’t even know how it happened.
“Bobby?”
It was Mrs. Yates. He scuttled backward, but she walked straight to the hole and bent to peer in. She smiled, but it was such a terribly sad smile that he wished she’d scowl instead, scowl and rage and call him the monster he was.
“I am so sorry, Bobby,” she said. “I don’t know…” She inhaled. “I won’t make excuses. We could tell things weren’t… We had no idea how bad…” Another inhalation, breath whistling. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I’d known. I wish I could have helped.”
He said nothing, just kept clutching his knees.
“I can’t stop what’s going to happen now, Bobby. I wish I could. I would give anything to fix this. But I can’t. I can only make it easier.”
He started to shake, holding his legs so tight his arms hurt.
“I read those newspaper articles,” she said. “About your grandmother. What she said. Your dreams. We should have talked about that. Perhaps if we’d talked…” She shook her head, then peered in at him. “You dreamed of golden castles, didn’t you? Castles and meadows and streams.”
“And dragons,” he whispered.
She went still. Completely, unnaturally still. “Dragons?”
He nodded. “I dream of dragons screaming. And then I wasn’t dreaming and they still screamed.”
“You should have told—” She cut herself short, chin dipping. “Let’s not talk about the dragons. You won’t hear them anymore. I promise. But the castles. You liked the castles?”
He nodded.
“Would you like to see them?”
“They’re gone. They went away.”
She inched a little closer to the gap in the lattice. “I can bring them back. Back as bright as they ever were. Castles and meadows, cool breezes and warm sunshine. Laughter and play, music and dancing. Is that what you remember?”
He nodded.
“Would you like to go there?”
“Yes.”
She ducked her head and crawled under with him. In one hand, she held a bottle. She pulled out the stopper and held the bottle out to him. The liquid inside seemed to glow, and when he looked up at her, she seemed to glow, too, the wrinkles on her face smoothing.
“Do you trust me, Bobby?”
He nodded.
