"Tyger, Tyger, burning bright. In the forests of the night, what immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry? When the stars threw down their spears and watered heaven with their tears, did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?"

Mr. Barnstable twists the ends of his mustache between his fingers. He scans the room. "Who authored this work?" The clock ticks. "A-hem. Anyone?"

Mave raises her hand. "William Blake."

Mr. Barnstable nods, raising a finger in the air. "Yes, that is correct. William Blake."

Mave smiles her metal grin.

Mr. Barnstable holds up a book with Songs of Innocence and of Experience printed across the cover. He points to the right side of the room. "I want this side to read and critique 'The Lamb'." He points to the other side of the room. "And I want all of you to read and critique 'The Tyger'. We'll compare and contrast next time." He smiles his gapped tooth grin. "Got it?"

The class groans.

The bell rings.

Students flood the hallways.

Dr. Banes telling Maggie to stay away from Eli is like telling a magnet to stay away from iron. It's impossible. She has an uncontrollable pull toward him that is undeniable. From the moment she spotted him in the hospital, she felt it, like a riptide pulling her into its current.

At first, she thought it was her morbid curiosity that wouldn't allow her to get him off her mind. The sheer terror on his face when he was thrashing away on that hospital bed was both frightening and intriguing to her.

Then, she thought it was her basic instinct to survive that made her pursue him, no matter how hard he pushed her away. She was drawn to the secrets he held. They were the key to her safety and her sanity.

As Eli let her into his world, and she let him into hers, the unexpected happened - a bond grew. Every time they gave a part of themselves to each other - their trust, their secrets, their confidence, their touch - their bond grew stronger and her pull toward him grew greater.

Am I in love with him? She has asked herself that question many times throughout the last few weeks. She is without a doubt, attracted to him.

Her senses go into overdrive whenever he's near. When she's with him, she's more alert and more aware. Every ounce of her rivets with anticipation in response to him.

When he's not near, it's her memory of him that takes over - his dark deep-set eyes, his angled cheekbones, the cut of his chin, the slope of his shoulders, the contours of his hands, the feel of his touch, the warmth of his body, his earthy smell -- are all etched in her mind.

In her books, when protagonists fall in love, it is always accompanied by an intoxicating, drunk-on-love sort of feeling, giddy and new. But with Eli, she feels completely sober.

If she isn't in love with him, then what is she? In like? That doesn't seem to match the pull's intensity.

Soulmate? Is that what Eli is to her? Her soulmate? They are two souls caught in a Soul War. Is that why they share this bond?

Or is Dr. Banes right? Is their bond simply a consequence of a shared altered reality? Nothing more. Nothing less. They are living in a world of delusions and hallucinations. Their bond is based in psychosis. Like the altered world in which they live, their bond is not real. It is only a byproduct of symptoms. It means nothing at all.

"Earth to Maggie." Maggie lifts her eyes to the distant voice calling her name. Charlie is leaning against her locker, wide-eyed. "I said your name like five times."

"Oh," she says shaking her head. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

She scrunches her nose. "No. I mean, yes. I was just thinking. What are you doing over here? Are you lost? Seniors wouldn't be caught dead on the underclassmen wing."

A pack of freshmen girls saunters past, strutting like peacocks. One flips her hair and gives Charlie the side eye.

Maggie grins. "You have a fan club."

"Will you be home after school?" Charlie asks, ignoring the strutting girls and Maggie's comment about them.

"Today?" she asks, still calibrating her attention to the present moment.

He nods. "We can have dinner together. Our parents have some sort of board meeting. I'll cook for you."

"What's the occasion?" Maggie asks. She has plans to meet Eli in the art room later.

Charlie shrugs. "There's no occasion. You just haven't been around much and when you are around, it's like your mind is somewhere else."

He's right. When Maggie isn't with Eli, she's thinking about him. She can't stop the thoughts from scratching at the places where the questions live.

Charlie's eyes soften. "I miss hanging out with you."

Maggie pulls a notebook from her locker. Truth is, she misses Charlie too. His easy ways could be a welcome distraction from the intensity she's been facing lately. "What's on the menu?"

"Is that a yes?" Charlie's dimples bloom.

His smile is so contagious, Maggie can't help but smile herself. "That's a yes. I'll see you for dinner." She'll have dinner with Charlie, and then meet up with Eli in the art room. No big deal.

"Chicken Cordon Blue," he says, spinning on his heel. "Six o'clock. Don't be late!" he shouts, weaving his way down the hall, through a group of gawking girls.

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A smoke alarm screams. The pungent smell of charred food stings Maggie's nose. She can barely see Charlie through the wall of smoke pouring from the kitchen. He's waving a dish towel in the air as if it's a white flag of surrender.

"Should we call the fire department?" Maggie coughs, waving her hand in front of her face.

Charlie shakes his head and opens a window. "No, but I did call the pizza delivery man. My Chicken Cordon Bleu is Chicken Cordon Black. I hope pepperoni is okay with you."

Maggie opens the door leading to the deck.

Charlie follows her outside. "Sorry Maggie. I'm more of a short-ordered cook than a gourmet chef."

"It's okay. I'm not that hungry."

"Smell of burnt food steal your appetite?" He rubs his stomach. "Not mine. I'm starving."

Maggie rests her hands on the porch railing and gazes at the sun creeping toward the horizon. Truth is, it wasn't the stench of burning Swiss cheese that stole her hunger. Her stomach has been in a twisted knot since that first night in the art room with Eli. Keeping their relationship a secret and sneaking around as if they're doing something wrong has been taking a toll on her nerves.

The doorbell rings. The corners of Charlie's mouth turn up. "Pizza is here!" He slips through the sliding glass door and darts into the kitchen.

Maggie plugs in the lights wrapped around the deck. They look like twinkling stars up against the twilight sky.

"Ambiance," Charlie says as he steps out onto the deck, cradling the pizza box. He sets it on the patio table and pulls a slice from the box.

The sweet aroma of basil fills the air. Red sauce layered with melted mozzarella is too tempting to resist. Maggie pulls a piece from the box and takes a bite. It's the first thing she has eaten all day. The savory taste of oregano mixed with spicy pepperoni doesn't disappoint. The crust has a perfect crunch.

Charlie calls out from where he is sitting on the hammock. "Come sit." He slaps the space beside him as he scoffs down his third slice of pizza.

Maggie finishes off her slice and plops down next to him, into the woven white rope.

"Ready?" he says.

"For what?"

"For this!" Charlie pushes off the deck with his size thirteen foot. The hammock swings through the air, fast and high.

Maggie's stomach lurches into her throat. She screams like a kid on a roller coaster.

Charlie's body sprawls out, lean and long, arms overhead, legs stiff and straight.

Maggie is in a tight ball against him, burying her face into her hands.

He pushes off the deck again, this time with more force.

"Charlie!" Maggie yelps.

Back and forth they swing, giggling like school children. 

"I think I'm gunna throw up!"

Charlie stomps his foot against the deck, slowing the hammock's speed to match the rhythm of the waves. "Better?" he says, glancing down at Maggie's arms wrapped around her knees. He laughs. "You can come out of hiding now."

She's laughing too. She stretches out next to him, resting her head against his shoulder as the hammock sways back and forth.

Every so often, Charlie pushes off the deck again to keep the rhythm going. He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. "The smell of fall."

Maggie takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of beach and sea, crisp and clean. Her shoulders soften. The muscles in her back relax. "I don't think I've laughed that hard or been this relaxed since --" she shakes her head "--since I don't know when."

"It's the negative ions in the ocean air," Charlie tells her. "Nature's therapy."

Maggie scoots up in the hammock. She faces Charlie. "You are therapy." She has missed him and his easy ways more than she knew. "Thank you for doing this," she says. "I needed it."

His green eyes shimmer, playful and bright. 

They sit like that in the silence for a while, with the sway of the hammock under Charlie's command. He pushes it back and forth as if he's rocking a baby to sleep. He folds his hands behind his head and looks up at the sky, a cool navy blue. His eyebrows form a tight stitch.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What is it?"

Charlie glances at her. "What is what?"

She touches his forehead with her finger and traces the lines furrowed into his brow. "I can tell when you're thinking about something serious."

He shakes his head and flashes his broad smile. "It's nothing."

"The lines don't lie," she says. She props her chin up with her fist and stares at him with wide, curious eyes.

He glances at her again and lets out a surrendering laugh. "My mother. I'm thinking about my mother."

The word mother fills Maggie's ears. It sticks in her throat. "What about your mother?"

Charlie plants both of his feet on the deck, stilling the hammock's sway. "When she died, my father told me she and my sister were in heaven watching over us and someday we'd see them again. He said it as if they were away on a trip somewhere and would be home soon. So I waited and I waited, day after day, expecting her to walk through the front door with my sister in her arms, or by her side. I waited, even as my memories of them faded. I waited for the mother whose face I couldn't picture in my head anymore, and for the sister I never knew. I waited and I waited until one day, I forgot." A flash of pain tightens his eyes. "I forgot what I was waiting for. I forgot about them." He turns to face Maggie. "When I walked up to the house from the beach the night you arrived, and I saw you and Connie standing on the deck with my dad, without even meaning to I thought, they're finally home."

Maggie's breath catches.

"Weird, I know," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, I know Connie isn't my mother and you're not my sister, but just seeing you both there, it made me remember what I had forgotten. It made me remember that I'd been waiting for them all that time. I suppose a part of me was still waiting."

Maggie swallows the lump of emotion swelling in her throat. She pulls at the cross at the base of her neck. It's become a frequent habit of hers to smooth the gold between her fingertips. She often doesn't realize she's doing it until she feels the chain pulled tight around her chin and the smooth surface of the cross at her lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" Charlie says, waiting on her words.

"You kind of took my breath away," Maggie admits.

"In a good way?"

"In the best way."

A smile fills Charlie's lips, but his eyes stay sad -- distant. He bends his knees and pushes his feet against the deck. The hammock sways them into silence again.

Maggie's eyelids grow heavy underneath the weight of its rhythm. With all the intensity she has felt lately, she hasn't had a restful sleep in weeks. Not to mention, Dread's relentless hunt for her soul. She resists the urge to close her eyes. The last thing she needs is a visit from her predator.

She looks over at Charlie, staring at the stars on the horizon, remembering what he had forgotten. Her body is heavy within the hammock's cotton rope, stuck as if she was in a spider's web.

The push and pull of waves, the breeze rustling through the sea grass, and the caw of seagulls circling above them blend into a soothing lull-a-bye. 

She can't resist the pull. 

Into the alpha waves she drifts.

A dark cloud covers the light of the moon and expands ever larger until it swallows up the beach, the sea grass, the sea gulls, and the sea. 

The shadow draws closer to Maggie, stuck in her web. 

She can't move. 

She can't think. 

She can't breathe.

Her heart ferociously drums against her chest. 

The beats grow louder, quicker, more urgent. And then she realizes, it's not her heart that's beating -- it's the rhythmic motion of snake skin wings, pounding against a serpent body. Yellow eyes pierce the night. Dread!

In the distance, she hears Eli shout her name.  

Dread seethes. "You. Are. Mine." Blood drips from his teeth as he zeroes in for the kill, talons raised and ready to swipe.

"Eli!" Maggie screams.

Dread slices the air, missing Maggie's neck by an inch. Her muscles tense. She tries to lift her arms to block the onslaught of slices and jabs, but she is defenseless. Paralyzed. A fly in a web, waiting for its demise.

Dread swipes, making contact with her hand.

"Stop!" she screams.

"You are mine." He growls, baring his razor teeth. He lifts his talons.

Maggie closes her eyes. She feels the weight of the gold cross, heavy against her neck.

A shrill cry echoes through the night, stunning Dread and sending him back on his heels. 

The demon flaps his wings and regains his balance.

The high pitched scream sounds again, this time sharper. Deafening. It pierces Dread like an arrow sending him into a spin, wings over tail and hooves over horns. 

The demon disappears into the night.

Maggie searches the dark for the source of the cry that saved her, but there is nothing and no one in sight. Where'd it come from? 

She scans the horizon for golden wings and Eli's face and fire swords.

Nothing. 

No one.

There is only a black abyss staring back at her. 

Her breath hitches at the realization that the cry which sent Dread tumbling, into the deep trenches of the night, was her own.

"Maggie, are you okay? Maggie!" 

She snaps her eyes open. Charlie is hovering over her, wide-eyed. 

"I was about to call 9-1-1. You were doing that seizure thing again, calling Eli's name."

Maggie pulls herself up off of the hammock.

"Let me take you to the hospital."

"No. No, not the hospital," she says, waving away his concern. She takes a step forward and stumbles.

"Wo," Charlie says, grabbing her arm.

Maggie braces herself against him. "I just need air," she mumbles, pointing toward the railing.

Charlie takes her hand and wraps his arm around her waist. "Slow," he tells her, as he guides her to the edge of the deck.

She leans against the railing, steadying herself.

Charlie eyes are round with concern. "You okay?"

Maggie gives a quick nod, white-knuckling the railing. The last thing she needs is for Charlie to worry about her. Connie's worry is more than enough for Maggie to manage. She inhales the salty air until her lungs expand to the brim beneath her ribs.

Sights and sounds come into focus -- the rustling of beach grass, a seagull's cry, the waves breaking onto the shore.

"Maggie," Charlie says, his voice shaking. He points at the railing, stained with her blood.

She flips her hand over and inspects the gash on her palm. Dread and his hunt. She peers up at Charlie. "Sleep terrors." She shrugs. "I've been getting them for a while now. Sometimes I scratch myself while I'm having one." She forces a reassuring smile.

Charlie grabs a napkin from underneath the pizza box and presses it against her wound. "Don't move," he says.

He darts into the kitchen and returns seconds later with a tube of Bacitracin, adhesive tape, and a box of bandages. "Maggie, you say you're okay, but I know you're not." He smooths the ointment over the cut and wraps a bandage around her hand. "You haven't been yourself lately." 

"I know I've been distracted," she admits. "But there's nothing to worry about." She lifts her shoulders. "I'm good."

Charlie's eyebrows knit together. "Good?" He shakes his head. "You were practically foaming at the mouth. You were screaming like a banshee. You have a huge cut on your hand."

Charlie has never lied to her. He's only ever looked out for her. He's the first real friend she's had. What has he ever done to deserve anything but her honesty? She hates lying to him, but the truth as she knows it, sounds crazy. And telling Charlie would risk everything. "Charlie, you have to trust me on this."

"It's not you I don't trust, Maggie." He drops his arms by his side. "I followed you the night of the football game, when you left with Eli."

"You followed me?" The sting of shock pulls at her face.

"I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I followed you to the art room."

Maggie's eyes widen. Her throat turns dry. Her first night with Eli in the art room reels through her head; their talk, their touches, their kiss, all of it. It was all on display for Charlie to see.

"I saw you kissing him."

"You were spying on us?"

Charlie steps toward her. "Cay told Drew that Eli is seeing and hearing things that aren't there. He's on the brink of a psychotic break. He could hurt you, Maggie."

Maggie's shock morphs into anger. "Eli couldn't hurt a fly," she huffs. "He's one of the gentlest people I've ever met."

Charlie pushes his hand through his hair. He gestures to the hammock. "You were just shouting his name, screaming for him to stop!"

"I told you. That was a sleep terror. It had nothing to do with Eli."

"He needs serious help."

"You telling me about how nuts he is, isn't helping him one bit!" Maggie darts down the stairs to the beach.

Charlie follows after her. "Everything I told you is true Maggie. I care about you like you're my sister. I'm looking out for you like a big brother should."

She spins around to face him. "I'm not your sister Charlie. And you're not my big brother, so stop saying stuff like that." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Don't follow me this time. I don't need a babysitter."

She paces toward the shoreline, distancing herself from Cove Manor. She pulls a piece of Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum from her pocket and peels away its wrapping. She pops the gum into her mouth and looks over her shoulder at Charlie, watching her walk away. How dare he follow me....spy on us...say all those things. She pulls her phone from her pocket and reads through a string of texts from Eli.

I miss u.

Can't wait to c u later.

r u ok? I had a weird vision of you and Dread.

Maggie, pls answer me. r u ok?

r u coming?

where r u?

She taps at the keyboard. I'm ok. Sorry. Running late. I'm on my way. c u soon. She pushes send.

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