As soon as Claire entered her bedroom, she locked her door and placed a blank paper on the table. Trembling with her mysterious encounter with Keith, she started scribbling everything she remembered the boy had been telling her inside her dreams and through the phone.

She wrote:

Keith outside the church, running toward it

Keith dressed in Sunday clothes

Keith inside Mr. Fernando's office, wailing, without his eyes, blood

Keith pointing at and calling through the old phone

Keith said his family was murdered

Claire underlined the last word. "How and why were you murdered, Keith? What do you want me to do?" She was sure that the boy had been telling him something. What is it?

Mr. Belmonte's office would be locked and guarded. And there would be no chance for her to access it.

How else could she connect now to Keith other than using the old phone? It seemed like Keith could contact her only through that phone and through her dreams. She could try communicating with him in her dreams but it would be hard. She could not control it...

Unless she could.

"I'm going to tell you a secret." Wendy was whispering. "Jonathan says that he's a Dreamweaver. He has the ability to weave dreams. To manipulate them. He searches for others who have latent psychic abilities and then helps them control their dreams."

Claire remembered her conversation with her best friend. That's it! Maybe... Maybe, she could ask Jonathan Del Monte to help her fully awaken her abilities and control her dreams. Then she could talk to Keith. How she wished what Wendy told her was true.

The girl hurriedly sneaked out of her room and went to the third floor of the gargantuan mansion. She knocked on the white wooden door of the last room to the left. No one answered. She knocked again. Only silence.

Fudge.

Claire bit her lower lip, remembering that Jonathan Del Monte had told her to convey his message to the mansion's driver. He would be at Asul's Cafe and Claire didn't know what time he'd be back home.

Not that the girl didn't have time, she was just impatient to know what Keith had been telling her. She had a feeling that it was urgent. She slumped on the floor and waited outside Jonathan Del Monte's room.

Claire...

"Keith?"

The jangle of keys woke Claire up. She didn't notice that she fell asleep, sitting outside Jonathan Del Monte's room, on the floor and hugging her knees.

"If I had known a lady has been waiting at my door, I would have canceled my appointment." the boy was still in his uniform. He walked closer to Claire and waited for her to move so he could open his door.

The girl stood up, dusting her sweatpants. She watched the boy fail to insert the key into the keyhole, the set of brass escaped his grip and fell to the floor.

Claire was quick to get them and hand them back to Jonathan Del Monte, who took the keys without gratitude.

"I need your help," she blurted. Best to be direct.

The door was now open. The boy strode inside and then faced her, one hand still on the knob. "And what kind of help do you need?" His right eyebrow was arched higher than the other.

"I-I heard you could control dreams."

A pause, then he nodded. "I can."

"Help me, please. Help me control my dreams." Claire was desperate. She didn't know how else to help her friend, Keith.

But Jonathan Del Monte's eyes just stared at her as he said, "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? But you just said you could--"

"Yes, I can control dreams. But, no, I cannot help you. You're not psychic. You don't have a gift. Sorry."

"But I--"

The door was closed in front of her.

Unbelievable. He so easily rejected her request. Should she be mad at him? She huffed and placed her hands on her waist.

Why did he refuse to help her anyway? Was she really not a psychic? Then, why could she see Keith in her dreams and communicate with him through an ancient phone?

And if Jonathan Del Monte did not want to help her then what else could she do? She was back at square one and the remaining option was obvious... the old phone in Mr. Belmonte's study.

"This is a marvelous place, Claire!" sweet, girly Georgie seemed like she wanted to twirl around the mansion's ground.

"Look at the paintings! They're so big and beautiful!" Claire's other friend, plump and lovely Anika, gaped as she observed the gigantic pictures.

While, Wendy was smiling at the life-sized statues. "And the cherubs! How cute!"

Claire would've felt proud of the place if only there wasn't a nagging feeling inside her that it might have held a dark secret. She watched as her friends enjoyed observing the central passage.

"We'll have our tea in the front parlor," Linda motioned them to the room at their left. Then, shaking her head she said, "I can't believe Claire invited you over on a Saturday afternoon. Our staff members are usually out of the mansion after Saturday morning to give them time to prepare for early Sunday service. I regret I only have a couple of store-bought biscuits to serve you."

"That'll be lovely and more than enough, Ms. Suarez," Wendy assured the older lady.

Linda smiled and left them to get the biscuits and some tea.

The group of friends entered the front parlor.

"Is that gold? Like, actual real golden candle holders?" Anika caressed them carefully with just the tip of her fingers.

"There were gold designs on the vases by the stairs too," Wendy commented.

Georgie plopped herself down on a white cushioned chair, looking very comfortable. She crossed her legs. "The Belmontes are so rich. I kinda envy you, Claire, for living here."

"Ha ha," Claire faked a laugh and met Wendy's eyes.

Her best friend walked closer to her and whispered in her ear, "I can't believe what you're asking me to do."

Sure that their two friends weren't looking at nor listening to them, Claire whispered back, "Please, just do it. I told you, it's really important to me."

"Ugh. What can I do? Just don't forget. One picture of Jonathan, alright?"

"Yeap. I promise. One picture."

"Good."

"You know what else is missing?" Georgie suddenly asked as her eyes traveled around the room.

"What?" Claire took a sit on one of the chairs too.

"A pet. Maybe a chihuahua. Or a white poodle! To match the theme of the house!"

Anika threw a pillow at the girl. "Don't treat pets like they're a decoration for a house, Georgie."

"And besides," Claire said, "I hate pets."

The wooden doors of the front parlor opened and Linda strolled inside with their biscuits and tea. The girls stood up and helped the older lady.

They drank tea and ate their food, talking about school and what they wanted to be when they grow up.

Suddenly, Georgie noticed that Wendy had been standing still in front of one of the golden candle holders. "Hey, Wendy, what are you doing?" Georgie walked toward her and touched her arm. "Wendy? Come on, girl. Let's get back to the group." No reply. "Wendy?" She shook her but her friend didn't move. She shouted, "Hey, guys, I think there's something wrong with Wendy."

"What?" Anika asked and went closer to the two, biscuits in both of her hands.

Suddenly, Wendy turned around. And when she opened her eyes, it was pure white. Georgie shrieked so loud that Claire was sure the people in the center of the town heard it. Anika's biscuits fell on the white herringbone floors.

"What is happening, ladies?" Linda approached them, worried.

"You!" Wendy suddenly spoke. "You!" Then she grabbed the caretaker on her shoulders. In a split second, her white eyes met Claire's and Claire used the distraction to get out of the room unnoticed. I hope this works, she thought. As Claire exited the room, she heard Wendy saying, "I am the master of the house and you will all obey me!"

Claire knew she only had a couple of minutes before Linda searched for her but it would be enough. She ran up the stairs and soon reached the doors of Mr. Fernando Belmonte's office. Her hands were shaking and sweaty as they fumbled inside her pockets to get a couple of paper clips. Yesterday, she searched online on how to pick a lock. She had to be able to do it now.

She straightened the clips and inserted two inside the lock of the doorknob. Will it work? Before even trying, her hand automatically turned the knob and was surprised that it opened! Linda forgot to lock it!

Good heavens!

It was her lucky day!

The girl looked behind her and made sure that no one saw her as she entered the office.

The room was the same as before, of course. She wasted no time and approached the phone.

Keith, I'm here, talk to me.

Silence.

"K-keith?" She asked aloud and looked around but nothing was happening.

Claire tried picking up the phone and placing it on her ear. No sound. Not even static.

Oh, Keith.

What to do next?

Well, she was inside Mr. Belmonte's office. There must be something in here. A clue or whatever.

Quickly, the girl sorted through the documents on the desk, and a paper caught her eye. It was the family tree of the Belmonte household. Mostly the most recent ones. Some were creepily marked with an X line over their names and date of birth. Including Keith's family.

What the heck?

The Belmonte bloodline was one of the oldest and one of the most mysterious families in the country. According to tales, most of their members resided outside of Tala, heading the congregation Church of Heavenly Angels in some other remote parts of the country. Keith and his family were assigned to Sta. Barbara. When they grow up, Keith would have been the head of the church while his sister would have been assigned by the Belmontes to another town, maybe married to someone of the same bloodline or Claire didn't know.

There were some more Xs on other family members. Then, she saw a branch and read Linda Del Monte Suarez's name beside the name of her younger sister, the pregnant Corazon Del Monte Suarez Villegas.

Huh? But they are not Belmonte.

According to the family tree, their mother was a Belmonte but had to change her surname to Del Monte during the war. That was why Linda became the church head! She was entitled by bloodline. But why didn't the caretaker inherit any money from her clan? Claire looked below Linda's name and date of birth but didn't see Jonathan Del Monte's name. It also wasn't written down under his grandmother's name. Weird.

From somewhere near, there was a noise like rocks scraping each other. The large bookshelf started to tremble. Slowly, it moved to the left, like it was a door opening.

A secret passage?

She heard a grunt. "Edgar!" she recognized.

Claire's heartbeat tripled. Heart in her throat, the girl rearranged the files on the desk and looked for someplace to hide. She saw a huge empty cabinet in one corner and hurriedly hid in there.

"I'm getting old for this kind of thing!" Edgar was stomping inside the room.

It was hot inside the cabinet and dark, with no gap between its doors for light to seep in. Claire held her breath and prayed that the gardener wouldn't notice her presence.

Something cold touched the skin on her right arm, encircling it with cold fingers.

A hand?

She looked at it and saw, indeed, a severed hand holding her arm. Blood trickled from where it was broken off. Claire was about to cry out loud when another hand enclosed her mouth and prevented her scream to be heard. Another hand held onto her feet, her thighs, all over her body. The scent of blood and rotten flesh was so strong she wanted to puke.

Tears streamed down her eyes.

Keith.

Keith!

A pair of hands gripped her arms strongly and pulled her out of the cabinet, into the light of Mr. Belmonte's office.

"Claire!" A voice was calling her. "Wake up, Claire!"

"Keith?" Claire opened her eyes. It wasn't Keith of course, but a frowning Jonathan Del Monte. She gasped. She was found.

Noticing the look of horror on her face, the boy said with a smile, "Don't worry, I won't tell Linda. I didn't know you liked sleeping inside cabinets."

Sleeping? "I was sleeping?" she asked and looked at the windows. It was already dark outside. He was right.

"Your friends are sleeping in the guest bedroom."

"They are?" She was thinking of making them go home right after tea. It suddenly became a sleepover. Claire winced. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bust your secret."

"It's alright. They haven't seen me. Well, yet." He stood up and offered a hand to Claire.

He was being... gentlemanly. Even holding the door for her as they strode outside the room. He asked, "Why do you always say the name of the missing kid?"

"Keith?" She put her arms around her body as they descended the stairs. "He's a childhood friend and I... I want to help him," she answered.

"Help a missing kid? How?" He was walking slowly, matching her pace.

"I know this sounds crazy, but, I think he's been communicating to me through the old phone at Mr. Belmonte's office and through dreams..."

"That is why you want my help."

"Yeah. But you said--"

"Okay, I'll help."

"W-what?" Did she just hear him agreeing to her request? "Why?"

"You don't want me to?" His smile still didn't reach his gray eyes.

"N-no. I guess I just need to be thankful. Thanks." She stopped walking. "We can start now. Right now. What do I need to do?"

Jonathan Del Monte suddenly inched closer to her, until their faces were only a string away. She could inhale his spicy perfume and notice the beautiful structure of his face.

What was he doing?

"What are you--"

"It starts with this." The boy grabbed her arms and, in a quick move, put their lips closer to each other. Not kissing, but just close. From the boy's lips, a certain coldness escaped. "Open your mouth," he urged her and Claire complied, realizing that this was part of the ritual. Instantly, she felt the coldness seep through her mouth, travel to her chest, and anchor in her soul. "When you need to call me, call me Dreamweaver," he said.

Word Count: 2,405
Total Word Count: 10,973