"I'll go with you!" I sounded a little too enthusiastic and tried to tone down my voice. Neal studied me for a moment and then smiled.
"Sounds good. I just have to stop by my room and grab the textbooks."
I gulped, knowing that Simon would be furious at me for going to Neal's room where he couldn't follow us, but I had no choice. I reminded myself that Neal's vardoger had attacked him at night in my vision. I was sure that's when it would happen. I prayed that I wasn't making a mistake by going to Neal's dorm room, where I had seen his vardoger murder him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As we walked to Bowery Hall, I resisted the urge to glance behind us to see if Simon was following us. I was jumpy as Neal signed me in as a guest, convinced that Simon was going to rush us at any second and rip me away from Neal.
The ride up the elevator to his floor was quiet, and I started getting more nervous, wishing there were more students around although I knew that was just a false sense of security.
"Sorry about the mess," Neal said when we got to his room and he unlocked his door. "I wasn't expecting to have anyone over."
Neal's room looked like a typical college dorm room with pictures tacked to the wall and clothes strewn about the floor, but I felt a jolt of fear when I stepped inside as memories of my vision washed over me. I zeroed in on the desk where I had seen Neal slit his wrists, his blood dripping into growing pools on the floor by the chair. I had an urge to open his drawer to see if there was a box with a razor in it, but I forced myself to look natural as I stood just inside the room, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Just a second," Neal said as he rummaged through his desk drawers. "I know the textbooks are here somewhere."
I nodded but I barely heard him. My anxiety level was off the charts as I realized something just felt wrong. Neal's back was to me as he rifled through his desk and I could hear my heart thudding against my ribcage as I stared at the drawer I had seen him open in my vision.
"Here they are!" Neal's voice jarred me back to reality. His triumphant grin faded into a frown as he glanced at me. "Caitlin, are you okay? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine," I stuttered, but I wasn't fine. I felt like I was suffocating and the only way to get a full breath of air was to escape this room. "Let's go!"
I turned towards the door and grasped the doorknob to open it, surprised when I found that it was locked. I reached to unlock it but I froze when I heard the soft but unmistakable sound of another drawer opening. I felt as if I was moving in slow motion as I turned back to Neal, horror slamming into me when I saw him opening that drawer. The drawer that held the razor that had ended his life in my vision.
I felt as if I was moving through molasses as I rushed towards him, fear choking out any warning I might have tried to scream. Neal took out a black box, just like the one I had seen in my vision. I was able to grab his arm before he opened it, but he just pushed me back as if he were swatting a fly, not even looking at me. I lost my balance and slammed against his dresser, cracking my head on the sharp corner and crumpling to the floor. Pain exploded in my head and I saw black spots crowding my vision. I was terrified that I would pass out so I lay there for a few seconds, although it felt like an eternity, willing myself to stay conscious.
I tried to stand up, but my limbs felt heavy and clumsy and I had a hard time controlling my movements, as if I were drunk. I grabbed the handle of a dresser drawer, trying to pull myself up.
Neal ignored me as if I wasn't there. He opened the box to reveal a razor anchored in a cushion as if it were a ring. But the razor looked nothing like the one I had seen in my vision. In my vision, even with the dim light, I had seen light reflecting off the metal razor. But now the razor reflected shadows even though daylight was pouring through the windows. I realized with horror that the razor was made of palladium.
I scrambled upright, holding the dresser for support as I tried to funnel my energy but it flickered like a dying light bulb. I wasn't sure if it was because of the blow to the head, so soon after my last concussion, but I felt weak as I tried to gather my energy together.
Neal was staring down at the razor, unmoving, when suddenly his image fluttered, as if I was watching an old movie and the filmstrip was skipping, causing his form to flicker. Terror gripped me when I saw a silhouette slither off of Neal, as if he were shedding an old skin. The silhouette grew solid until I was staring at a carbon copy of Neal, the outline of the figure wavering is if it weren't quite real.
Neal raised his head slowly towards his vardoger, a shocked expression crossing his face even in his trance-like condition. He watched with widened eyes as his vardoger reached towards the palladium razor.
I sprang into action as quickly as I could despite my sluggishness. If I couldn't stop the vardoger with my energy, I would stop it with my body.
I crashed into Neal, trying to shove him out of the way, and we both fell to the ground. I took the brunt of the fall as Neal toppled over onto me, my shoulder smacking the floor with a bone-jarring thud.
The breath was knocked out of me as Neal scrambled up until he was standing again, still staring at his vardoger as if he had never fallen. I desperately tried to funnel my energy, knowing that I could never win physically. Hope glimmered when I felt the familiar thrumming inside of me as my energy gathered slowly, growing methodically into a furiously swirling ball of energy.
I was vaguely aware of the vardoger taking the razor from the box. Neal held out his wrists in front of him as if he were a sacrificial lamb waiting for slaughter, his eyes blank as he stared at his vardoger. The vardoger's hand holding the razor lifted and I saw one last glint of shadow as it slashed down with force. At the same exact second, I hurled my ball of energy towards the vardoger with every fiber of my being, the force of it leaving my body so strong that I involuntarily lurched into a sitting position. I slumped to the floor after the energy left me, leaving me weak and dazed.
I heard a crash in the distance but my neck felt too weak to support my head when I tried to crane it up to see the source of the sound. Moments later, I felt hands on my body and Simon's face above me, his eyes anguished. I tried to tell him I was okay, to ease the fear I saw in his face, but my mouth wouldn't form the words. I heard him talking, although it sounded muffled. I slowly forced myself to the surface until consciousness rushed over me.
"Simon," I choked out as I sat up. "I'm okay."
Simon's face flooded with relief at my words as he touched my face repeatedly, as if to reassure himself that I actually was okay. I looked beyond him and saw Neal sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him with blood on his shirt. I felt relief course through me when I realized the blood was gushing from his nose and not his wrists, which were unharmed. He had a stunned expression on his face as he looked at me.
"Neal," I croaked. "Are you okay?"
"Fuck Neal." Simon's voice had a dangerous tone which made me tense.
"Simon," I whispered, not wanting Neal to hear me. "Remember, he didn't do anything. His vardoger did. If anything, he's the victim in all of this."
Simon's lips pressed together and he looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, his eyes concerned as his gaze traveled over me. "Are you sure you're okay?"