Chapter 33

Ruby

When I wake, I’m back in Atwood’s bedroom. Was this all a dream? Is it the morning before school again, and will Atwood come strolling in with my homecoming dress any minute?

I look over to see Atwood laying beside me. He’s back in his human form. Someone has bandaged his wounds; I guess I knew that my healing abilities wouldn’t be able to fully heal his wound, but I’m satisfied to know at least that maybe my healing kept him alive until the rest of the pack came.

I sit up and quietly climb out of bed so as not to wake him. As I do so, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and pause to look at my reflection.

Even though my vision showed me laying dead in the woods having frozen to death, I’m here. I’m alive, I’m warm, and I’m okay. I guess this wouldn’t be the first time that my vision was wrong, but… Even when I had my vision about Atwood in the tunnels, it had still technically been correct; just scattered and misinterpreted.

This vision, on the other hand… I stopped it from happening entirely. I had always thought of my visions as being concrete, as if they’re fate and I’m nothing but an observer, but now that theory seems to be untrue. If I can change the outcome of my visions, that means that this ability of mine is far more powerful than I had previously imagined.

In the darkness, I see something now in my reflection. Something new.

I step closer to the mirror, bringing my hand up to my face. My eyes, which were once a dark shade of brown, are completely different now.

They’re red.

“Ruby?”

Atwood’s weak voice breaks through the silence from behind me. I spin around and run to his side, taking his hand in mine. He squeezes it gently, then his good eye -- the one that isn’t covered by a bandage -- cracks open slightly to look at me.

“You found me,” he says softly, his lips twitching into a subtle smile.

I nod and sit down on the edge of the bed, placing my hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. There are several long moments of silence before he speaks again.

“How?”

I bite my lip and look down at the floor, wondering to myself if I should tell the truth about my visions as well as my newfound ability or if I should come up with an excuse so as not to be questioned further. I could tell him that the locket helped me find him… but I know that he’ll see right through it.

With my gaze still averted, I answer him.

“I was upset because you weren’t at my show,” I say softly as tears well up in my eyes. “I ran outside and saw the snow, so I touched my locket… And I had a vision.”

His grip strengthens on my hand. I can tell that he’s shocked by my confession to my vision abilities.

“I saw you limping through the forest, and all I could think about was coming to help you.”

“That was reckless of you, Ruby,” Atwood says sternly, but his voice is still soft and caring.

I nod and finally lift my gaze from the floor so that he can see my eyes.

“Something happened in the woods,” I say.

Atwood sits up suddenly and cups my face in my hands as he gazes into my eyes. “Your eyes,” he says. “Did you shift?”

I shake my head, looking down at my lap again. “No. But… When I was looking for you, I got lost in the woods. I had another vision, one of me laying in the snow, frozen to death. But then, it was like something took over. Like I had a sixth sense. I could hear your voice. I started running toward it, and my body felt agile, like I was on a hunt.”

There’s another long silence.

“That’s how I found you.”

Atwood lays back down on his pillow with a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes again. He doesn’t speak for a long time, so long in fact that I wonder if he’s fallen asleep again. When I go to stand, however, his grip tightens on me once more. My eyes widen as he reaches out and wraps his arms around me, pulling me down to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat.

“You know what this means, right?” he says softly.

I nod, shutting my eyes as his heartbeat fills my ears.

“My wolf is close.”

For the first time since I’ve come to the castle, we fall asleep together. I didn’t realize earlier just how exhausted I am from the ordeals today, but as Atwood holds me on his chest, I find myself quickly slipping into a deep sleep.

While I sleep, however, I’m plagued by unsettling dreams. Images of blood dripping from wounds, of my fingers turning blue from frostbite, Beck’s grinning face peering out at me from behind the curtains like a demon, Donna’s disheveled appearance and Ethan lying in a hospital bed.

The most unsettling dream, however, is of the dark-haired woman. She’s standing at the end of a long corridor, not moving, saying nothing. Just… staring at me with pure white eyes that have been clouded over by disease. She beckons to me, compelling me to approach. When I’m close enough to touch her, she points toward a pair of doors with glass windows.

It’s the locked room from before.

When I look back at her, she’s gone.

Suddenly, the doors swing open and I’m dragged inside by an invisible force. The doors slam shut and lock again with me inside and I’m dragged upward, then shoved back with a force so great that I lose my breath.

I’m trapped in a little box behind a white sheet. No matter how hard I pound my fists against the invisible force holding me in, I cannot get out. Soon, I can’t even pound my fists or scream. Something is forcing my body to hold still.

It feels like years pass. An eternity, even, as I’m stuck in one pose and unable to move. Then, the sheet is removed. I look down to see myself staring up at me.

I’m the woman in the painting.

I wake from my nightmare with a start, sweat coating my back and my forehead, to find that it’s morning. As I become fully conscious, I’m relieved to find that I’m not trapped inside of a painting, but am in fact still in Atwood’s warm bed as the morning sun streams through the window.

I roll over to see that Atwood’s spot is empty again. His side of the bed has been made neatly, as though he was never there. Did we actually fall asleep together last night, or was that a dream, too?

There’s a note on his pillow, which solidifies the fact that my time with Atwood last night was real. Sitting up, I rub my sleepy eyes and pick the note up.

“Ruby,” it reads, “I have work to attend to. Have fun at the dance tonight. Everything will be okay. -Atwood”