The Devil's Dreamcatcher by Donna Hosie Read Free Book Online

and I swear I see that same movement mirrored in the lupine skull resting on his head.
    â€œEveryone take a seat,” commands Baumwither with an officious wave of his pudgy right hand. He either hasn’t registered the wolf-man’s reaction or he doesn’t care. He simply picks up a remote control device and presses a square red button at the top. The mounted television flickers to life, and I can’t help gasping as a familiar image fills the screen.
    I suddenly know why I’m here.
    At the same moment I open my mouth, Perfidious throws back his head, and the animal pelt comes alive as a shocking scream rips through the room. A set of crystal glasses in the center of the table shatters into tiny fragments. Alfarin springs to his feet with his axe in his hands, but the blade is torn from his grip by some invisible force and goes spinning through the air. It thuds into the table, inches from Baumwither’s liver-spotted hands.
    â€œI did not do that,” booms Alfarin as two HBI agents foolishly try to grab him. He flings one, and then the other, against the wall.
    Mitchell and Elinor are now standing again with fists clenched, ready to hit anyone who comes near their friend. I suddenly notice that I’m doing the same thing, and for a split second the shock of this realization makes me forget the image on the screen. I’ve always had to defend myself, but this might be the first time in my existence that I’ve had the instinct to physically protect someone else.
    Then Perfidious’s continuous howling brings me back to reality. He ignores the chaos in the room, and the shadowy aurasurrounding him stretches outward, like groping fingers. It claws at the screen, and I realize it’s the aura that’s howling in anger, and not Perfidious or the gaping wolf head he’s wearing.
    I want to howl right along with it, because there is no question in my mind that the face leering down at me from the TV is the same face I see in my nightmares.
    It’s my mom’s husband, my stepfather. His name is Rory Hunter. And he’s the reason I’m dead.
    The aura’s howl reaches a fever pitch, and Baumwither smacks his hand on the table.
    â€œThat is enough, Perfidious!” shouts Baumwither. “Kindly recall that you’re here because I have personally invited you into the master’s inner sanctum. So please show some decorum.”
    The shadow stops clawing at my stepfather’s image and slinks back toward Perfidious. It covers him in darkness, the antithesis of the light that I saw around Mitchell, Alfarin and Elinor that night outside my house.
    The night I thought I was rid of Rory Hunter for good.
    â€œSir Richard,” says Septimus calmly, “perhaps you could explain to Miss Pallister why she has been brought here? Despite her forty years in Hell, I would like to remind all of you”—Septimus pauses to glance around the room at everyone, including Perfidious—“that she is sixteen years of age in mortal terms, and this must be quite overwhelming for her.”
    â€œThank you,” I whisper, and I slowly sit down again. The palms of my hands are soaked with sweat. All I can think about is the inevitable bad dream that will invade my sleep tonight. I have a certain amount of control over what I do when I’m awake, but I’m a slave to my nightmares. Seeing Rory again after all this time is a brutal shock. It’s been so long, and yet not long enough. I already know that tonight I’ll fall asleep, and then I’ll dream, and then I’ll scream, and then I’ll wake up everyone in the dorm, which will result in a new vat of crap and taunts from them. My nightmares are the reason Patty and the other girls started calling me an animal in the first place.
    Mitchell walks across the room and sits next to me.
    â€œWe’re here, Medusa,” he whispers. “We won’t let them hurt you.”
    I want to