DREAM KEEPER BLOG TOUR
ASSETS
About the Book
Title: DREAM KEEPER
Author: Amber R. Duell
Pub. Date: January 29, 2019
Publisher: The Parliament House
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 288
Find it
The Sandman is seventeen-year-old Nora’s closest
friend and best-kept secret. He has to be, if she doesn’t want a one-way ticket
back to the psychiatrist. It took her too long to learn not to mention the
hooded figure in her dreams to her mother, who still watches Nora as if she’ll
crack. So when Nora’s friends start mysteriously dying gruesome deaths in their
sleep, she isn’t altogether surprised when the police direct their suspicion at
her. The Sandman is the only one she can turn to for answers. But the truth
might be more than she bargained for…
For the last five years, the Sandman has spent every night protecting Nora.
When he hid the secret to the Nightmare Lord’s escape inside her dreams, he
never expected to fall in love with her. Neither did he think his nemesis would
find her so quickly, but there’s no mistaking his cruel handiwork. The
Nightmare Lord is tired of playing by the rules and will do anything to release
his deadly nightmares into the world, even if that means tormenting Nora until
she breaks.
When the Nightmare Lord kidnaps Nora’s sister, Nora must enter enemy territory
to save her. The Sandman is determined to help, but if Nora isn’t careful, she
could lose even more than her family to the darkness.
Excerpt
2
NORA
Shadows
danced in the soft warmth of the white mini-lights strung around my bedroom. I
hopped around my bed, fumbling with the buckle on my sandals, and tossed my
purse in the corner. Something hard—probably my phone—thwacked against the light
blue wall.
“Whoops,”
I muttered, then growled at the metal hook locking my footwear in place.
There were
places to go, people to see. Or, rather, one person, and it was already hours
past our usual meeting time. I jerked at the stiff strap. “Get off.”
Finally,
it popped, and I kicked it triumphantly into the corner with my bag. The other
came off without any trouble, and my stomach fluttered in anticipation. I
tugged off my jean shorts and stepped into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms,
leaving on the ribbed tank top I wore out tonight. Who cared that a glob of
nacho cheese stained the front? The Sandman certainly wouldn’t.
Climbing
beneath the cool sheets, I dragged in a long breath and released it slowly. A
small grin played on my lips as I stared at the lights hanging overhead. Then I
shut my eyes and waited. Waited for sleep to claim me. To deliver me. But my
body was too tense, and my mind still flipped through the day’s events—as
ridiculously boring as they were. When the highlight of your day was painting
your nails a new color, what was there to mull over?
After a
handful of long minutes, I opened my eyes again and bit my lip. I could ask. It
had been… Actually, I couldn’t remember the last time I asked him for anything.
Even this. But I had to be up early for work tomorrow and we’d already missed
out on hours together. A grin crept across my face.
“Sandman,”
I whispered, and closed my eyes again in preparation. “Help me sleep.”
It came
swiftly then, sweeping me gently from my world to another as easily as the
breeze carries a feather. I curled my toes, feeling the powder-like sand of the
Sandman’s beach beneath my bare feet, and opened my eyes. The endless blanket
of bright stars, the luminescent waves, the Sandman… This place, this dream,
was like coming home.
“Sorry I’m
late,” I called with a smile in my voice. The light aroma of lilacs filled my
lungs and I sighed, content. “Natalie and Emery dragged me to a party to
celebrate our final first day of summer vacation.” By this time next year, we
would all be high school graduates and legal adults—neither of which I was
ready to think about. I stretched my arms over my head and fought a yawn.
“Sandman?” There was no reply. I dropped my arms and spun, searching for a
glimpse of the familiar black-clad figure. This was our spot—the place directly
below the brightest star. My brows lowered in confusion. So why wasn’t he here?
He was always here. “Where are you?”
The only
sound was the soft hush of waves lapping the shore. I turned again, squinting
down the beach, but there was no hooded figure in sight. My heart skipped a
beat. The dream seemed to yawn open, the emptiness pressing in on me from all
sides. He had to be here somewhere. A pit formed in my stomach, and I staggered
back, unsteady. He had to.
The beach
was an addiction I didn’t know how to cure myself of—didn’t want to cure myself
of. For every time I had to pretend this place didn’t exist, the Sandman was
there to absolve me of the lies. There to make me feel like I was good and sane
and normal. It didn’t matter that he was also the reason I didn’t feel any of
those things were true when I was awake. The Sandman was my anchor, holding me
firm when life tried to wash me out to sea. Without him… I swallowed hard.
Without him, I would be a ship without sails.
“Sandman!”
I jogged down the water’s edge, my pulse drumming in my ears. “I’m here.”
But he
wasn’t.
THREE
THIRTY-TWO.
The clock
on my nightstand glowed green, the colon blinking in a slow, torturous rhythm.
I tapped my fingers on my stomach. The Sandman had never been a no-show before.
And if he wasn’t there, maybe that meant they were right, and he wasn’t real.
No.
I refused
to believe that. My mother meant well, but I couldn’t face a lifetime of
pill-pushing psychiatrists. One white-haired doctor tossing around words like
personality disorder and delusional was enough. By the time the final doctor
deemed the Sandman a simple outlet for me to process my parents’ divorce, the
damage was done.
Don’t
worry about it, he said. It will pass, he said.
That was
five years ago.
The
divorce was a distant memory. My father moved across the country and my mother
remarried, but the Sandman became a permanent fixture. One I’d learned to
never, ever talk about.
What’s
going on? I pushed the thought toward the Sandman even though I knew he
couldn’t hear me. There was only one call that reached from this side of the
Dream World to his, only one cry capable of bringing him here, but it never
stopped me from trying.
I flung
the sheets back with a huff and grabbed an oversized Lund Valley Community
College sweater from the end of my bed. Natalie hoped we would go there
together next year but… I wrinkled my nose and glanced at the dresser drawer
where my sketchbook was carefully tucked between scarves. If I went to college
at all, it would be for art, but that was a big if. No one in my family knew I
drew, and if my mother was going to let me major in something “impractical,”
she would want to at least see my work. Unfortunately, each page featured a
majestic beach and a man hidden beneath a hood. Both things I was supposed to
have forgotten long ago.
Tugging
the sweater over my head, I made my way through the dark hallway toward the
stairs. My mother and step-father were both working the night shift at the
hospital and my sister could sleep through anything, yet I found myself
tip-toeing down the hall.
I paused
outside Katie’s door and listened to the steady, heavy breathing on the other
side. Part of me wanted to wake my sister up to talk about what happened, but
the other part of me—the part that remembered the piercing fluorescent lights
of a therapist’s office—knew better. Katie had teased me about the Sandman when
we were younger, but she never treated me differently. However, now we were
older. Barging into her room to complain that my imaginary friend hadn’t shown
up that night might alienate the last blood relative I could rely on.
Although
Katie annoyed me like no one else, I loved her more than I was irritated with
her. I needed my big sister on my side—even if it meant hiding a huge part of
my life. So, I stepped away from her door and crept silently downstairs to the
kitchen.
Maybe
because I was about to steal someone’s box of frozen Thin Mints.
Sorry, not
sorry.
Mist
curled out of the open freezer, and I reached behind the chicken before a
shrill, heart-wrenching scream tore through the house, squeezing the air from
my lungs. It was made of nails and teeth and death. Of danger and fear. My
eardrums rattled. Each nerve stood at attention, electricity buzzing over my
body.
“Katie?” I
yelled, frantically abandoning my pursuit of the cookies.
Confusion
laced the edges of my shaky voice, but I was already racing across the kitchen.
Instinct twisted my gut, telling me to turn and run, to save myself, but I
couldn’t. Not if my sister was in trouble. Not if someone had broken in when no
one was home to help. Not if Katie was hurt and scared. I propelled myself up
the stairs to the second floor, my skin itching me to go faster, faster,
faster. Katie’s door was still shut at the front of the hallway. My breath
shuddered, and I reached for the handle, pausing with apprehension. The metal
was cold in my palm.
“Katie?”
Her name came out as a crackling whisper and I forced myself to inhale. Then
exhale. Inhale again. My hand shook as I twisted the knob.
I eased
the door inward. Without a barrier between us, the sound cut through me like a
knife. I slapped a palm against the wall, hitting the light switch, and
flinched at the sudden brightness. At what it might reveal.
Katie lay
flat on her back, her eyes shut tight, with the sheets snarled in a ball at the
end of the bed. Sweat poured down her face, plastering her pink hair to her
skin. The wild scream continued, unrelenting, her jaw stretched wide, her neck
muscles protruding. But everything else was in its rightful place. Nothing was
broken. The lock on the window hugged its latch.
I stepped
into the room and spun, bumping into the dresser. My pulse thrashed; it
mimicked Katie’s scream in pendulum beats. Loud then muffled then loud again.
“Katie?” My voice felt tight. I knelt on the mattress and shook my sister’s
broad shoulders. “Wake up.”
The scream
cracked. Katie sucked in air as if she were drowning and began again, just as
terrified. I used the back of my wrist to wipe the moisture from my forehead.
My nails dug into her shoulders, and I shook her rigid body with every ounce of
strength I had. The more I yelled her name, the more desperate, more savage, my
voice became. Black spots danced in my vision. Nightmares were one thing, but
this was something else. Something beyond that. I shook the dizzying fear away
and darted into the bathroom across the hall.
I returned
with a Dixie cup of cold water and leapt onto the bed. The water hit Katie’s
face with a splash. “Come on,” I shouted to no avail.
I fumbled
for Katie’s cell phone on the nightstand. If our mother didn’t know what to do,
she could send someone who did. My thumb hovered over the direct number to my
mother’s unit when a quick, metallic burst of air whooshed in from the hallway.
A shiver ravaged my spine, and Katie’s pitch reached new heights. I slipped
from the bed, my hip smashing into the floor. The phone fell from my hand,
seemingly in slow motion. I lunged for the door, and slammed it shut, leaning
my back against the wood.
I couldn’t
think.
Couldn’t...
I couldn’t...
The walls
seemed to shrink, boxing me in. Trapping me.
Above the
screech, a deep chuckle rumbled in the hall. My heart rose to my throat, and I
dove for the phone where it had landed on the rug. I managed to dial nine
before Katie’s scream cut off. Palpable silence penetrated the room. My rapid
breathing mixed with my sister’s, and I edged up onto shaking knees. Katie
rolled onto her side with a twitch.
“Katie?”
My voice came out as a squeak.
She snuggled
into the pillow, and her breathing returned to normal. Okay. She was okay. I
turned my attention to the space at the bottom of the door. There was probably
no one out there anyway. My sister’s screams threw me off after a confusing
night, that’s all. I was merely tired and scared and was likely imagining the
whole thing.
But before
I called anyone, I had to be sure.
With the
phone clutched in my hand, I crawled across the room to where the bright yellow
handle of Katie’s tennis racket leaned against the wall. I gripped the hard
foam and held it to my shoulder. I didn’t want to leave Katie alone but what
choice did I have? I couldn’t call for help if no one was out there. My mother
would have a field day.
Clenching
my jaw shut to keep my teeth from chattering, I dialed two one’s before opening
the door. If anyone was on the other side, it would only take a single touch to
call for help.
I eased
out, holding the racket in front of me, and flicked on the hallway light. The
stillness slammed into me like a brick wall. “Okay, okay, okay,” I chanted
under my breath. This was stupid. And yet… at five-foot-three and a hundred and
ten pounds, an intruder wouldn’t necessarily need to be armed to overpower me.
My nerves
exploded with a burst of adrenaline, and I leapt from room to room until each
light bulb on the second floor glowed. I checked every closet, under every bed.
The racket shook in my hand. There was nothing. No one. An irrational spike of
anger zipped through me at the possibility of my brain’s betrayal.
My body
moved on its own accord, taking me downstairs one tentative step at a time. One
million potential fates I might encounter, if there was someone lying in wait,
coursed through my thoughts. The joints in my fingers locked around the phone
with my thumb still over the green call button. My tongue was sandpaper against
the roof of my mouth, and I crept through the living room.
The
freezer was still open, rattling in an attempt to keep the internal temperature
down. I chomped down on my lip and inched my way forward to shut it. The
rarely-used alarm system beside the back door taunted me—if only I remembered
the code.
It seemed
like it took ages to finish searching the house. I looked everywhere from the
coat closet to beneath the bathroom sink, but it had only been eleven minutes
since I had woken up. No time at all, really. I gripped the back of a dining
room chair to stay on my feet.
There was
no intruder. Katie had a nightmare, and my mind deceived me.
Again.
Always.
Only this
time, it wasn’t part of my subconscious. I wasn’t asleep. Katie had screamed.
There was
a blast of air. Someone had laughed.
I
swallowed the fear rising in my chest.
No one
believed they were crazy. I wasn’t sure what it meant if I thought I was
unhinged but constantly persuaded myself to believe I wasn’t. Was I? Wasn’t I?
Not even the doctors could agree on an answer. My sanity was a double-edged
sword, and I was fighting to maintain balance on the tip.
I dashed
back to Katie and climbed in bed beside her, nestling close. I tucked the
wrinkled sheet around us both and tried to ignore the nausea curdling in my
stomach. Katie was older than me, bolder and more confident, but in that
moment, she felt as fragile as blown glass. I wrapped an arm around her waist
and squeezed my eyes shut. My ears strained to hear the slightest sound that
could signal danger, but no one else was in the house.
No one had
laughed.
The
Sandman wasn’t real.