Hidden Sight (Coastview Prophecies Book 1) Read online

  That first month after the hospital, she took me to a nearby school for the blind so I could learn braille and technology like screen readers and phone apps. The woman who ran the school, Esther Townsend, helped me adjust to my new lifestyle. Whenever I was with Mrs. Townsend (as she preferred to be called), she made me remove my sunglasses. Pulling them away from my face, she’d lean forward and say in her poetic and ethereal voice, “Open your eyes, Sibyl. That’s why God gave you such beautiful ones. To share with others.”

  Esther Townsend’s spirit was made of celestial silver light, so I never minded opening my eyes. I could’ve stared at her all day long. Soon, I became comfortable seeing good spirits like Aunt Ruthie’s and Esther’s. Esther helped me acclimate to my new lifestyle with a gentle ease. She also raised and trained chocolate Labradors to be guide dogs. After a few weeks, she gave me Vago, who turned out to be a very special dog. Aunt Ruthie hoped Vago would encourage me to get out of the house more.

  That first day Vago came to live with us, I made a valiant effort to walk down our street. His blue iridescent spirit twinkled as he pranced along. I joked and called him my guiding light. By the next day, I made it down the block all the way to the town square. It seemed I was on the path to reconnecting with the world. My solution was keeping my eyes closed and wearing my sunglasses. Vago and I got to the local coffee shop and sat outside next to a woman chatting on her phone. Sitting there, I was struck with a painful vision that pierced my frontal lobe like an ice pick. In the vision, I saw the woman sitting next to me crossing the street when a mail truck careened right into her, shattering her right leg. Vago whimpered just as the images seared across my mind. Did he have the same vision?

  I pushed the images away and tried to enjoy the rest of my latte. It was the first one I’d had since the accident. But shortly after the woman got up and left the coffee shop, there came the sound of people shouting and a vehicle’s tires screeching. Then the loud thump of metal making an unnatural impact with a body. I set down my latte, sick to my stomach.

  Vago guided me home. I wondered during the walk back if the premonition was real or a coincidence. If being around people meant receiving visions, going out in public would no longer be an option, even with my eyes closed.

  Later that night, I got my answer …

  Aunt Ruthie was working the night shift at the diner when I heard a slight tapping on my bedroom door. I froze, pulling the quilt up around my chin as though that would ward off any intruders.

  “I’m blind. Take whatever you want!” I yelled out.

  From outside my bedroom door, someone said, “It’s okay, Sibyl. Don’t freak out. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

  It was a male’s voice, calm and polite. Nothing jarring or creepy about it. Though I didn’t recognize the tone, something about it felt familiar. I definitely didn’t have any hair-raising sensations that I was going to be murdered. The panic subsided. But I grabbed my walking stick anyway and shouted, “Vago! Sic him, boy!”

  The door creaked open a bit, and the male entered my room. I know he entered because I could see him. Not his shadow silhouette like everyone else. Or his spirit. I could see his shaggy brown hair and pale blue eyes. I could see the fluffy pink robe he was wearing—my robe! How was this possible? And why was he wearing my robe?

  I yelled one more time, “Vago! Help!”

  “Pointless,” the guy said calmly.

  He was right about that. The most damage Vago would’ve inflicted would be licking the stranger to death.

  My tongue grew thick as my throat cinched. Where was Vago? Why wasn’t he coming when I called his name?

  “Did you do something to my dog?” I shouted.

  “Not a thing.”

  “Where is he, then?”

  “He’s safe. Trust me. Please just trust me, Sibyl.”

  Something peaceful moved through me when he said my name. His voice had the cadence of a flowing stream, like he wasn’t in a rush to explain anything. His calmness brought forth a feeling of warmth and comfort. If I could see this person, there had to be a reason for it—a supernatural one—like everything else going on in my life since the damn accident. I sensed I was safe.

  “Why can I see you?” I asked.

  “This is going to sound nuts, but I was sent to help you. I’m your friend.”

  “My friend? I don’t even know you.”

  “I’m here to help you with your visions.”

  “My what?” I knew exactly what he was referring to, but I didn’t want to discuss my supernatural “gifts” with a stranger.

  “The thing you had today at the coffee shop. The lady and the mail truck …”

  “How do you know about that?”

  He sat at the foot of my bed and nudged my legs over a bit, which felt oddly familiar. “I got the same one.”

  Any alarm that should’ve been plummeting me into another dimension was non-existent. By that point, I had already seen enough weirdness to know that anything was possible and coincidences were highly unlikely.

  “Were you at the coffee shop?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Right next to you.”

  “I didn’t see you and since I can see you, I would’ve noticed you sitting next to me at the coffee shop,” I said.

  “You saw me. Just not this version of me.”

  I laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean? Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one …”

  “I’m Vago.”

  Dumbstruck and caught completely off guard, I sat there like a blind girl whose guide dog just told her he was also human.

  “Between the hours of midnight and sunrise I shift into human form.”

  “Oh, wow.” Laughter poured out nonstop. “This is too much. You’re claiming you’re a shifter? Come on. What do you really want?”

  “Told you, I’m here to help,” he said with the calmest of demeanors.

  “I’ve ‘seen’ some crazy stuff since the accident, but this right here, this knocks it right out of the park. Whoever you are, you can go now. You’ve had your fun. I need my beauty sleep.”

  He stood up and smiled. “I get it. I wouldn’t believe me either. So I’ll prove it to you. I’ll sleep on the floor and when the sun comes up, you can watch me shift back into my dog form.”

  I shook my head, holding out my walking stick. “Is this some sort of sick trick to sleep in my room?”

  “You can tie me up if you want,” he suggested.

  “I’m not letting you sleep in here!”

  He gave me a wry grin and a head cock. “If you want to know the truth, it’s the only way. Or I can go back to the guest room and you can spend the rest of the night wondering. Up to you.”

  Whoever he was, he had a real hard head on his shoulders. I could tell by the way he lifted his chin. Almost like he knew I couldn’t resist knowing for sure.

  “Fine. If you’re really Vago, go find your leash and whatever else so I can tie you up,” I said.

  “You got it.”

  He left my bedroom. Minutes later he came back with rope and tied himself to my desk. I patted him down to make sure he was secure and couldn’t escape.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured me.

  “What happens when my aunt comes home in the morning after her shift and finds some strange dude tied to my desk?”

  “She’ll see a dog,” he replied calmly.

  “Okay. I’ll play along, just because this is the most amused I’ve been in a while.”

  Instead of going back to sleep, I sat up in bed with my head against the wall and forced myself to stay awake until sunrise. Sure enough, the guy tied to my desk shifted before my eyes into my chocolate brown Labrador retriever. I had sensed Vago was a special dog the moment Esther Townsend had given him to me, but I never would’ve guessed just how special.

  Almost a year later and I still hadn’t reemerged into our community, which is why Aunt Ruthie was out chasing down the delivery guy. The back yard grew colder by the second.
Too cold for me to be stubborn. I grabbed my phone—my lifeline—and got up from my chair to go inside to find Vago, to face my shame.

  Chapter Four

  Sibyl

  I stepped into the kitchen and called for Vago. Normally, he’d pad over to me in a delightful manner, rub his nose against my leg and let me scratch his head. But after a few minutes, it was clear Vago was holding a Sibyl protest. He had grown weary of my fearfulness. Who could blame him? Just because I enjoyed the privacy of my own home didn’t mean everyone around me wanted to be converted into a hermit. Typically, I could expect a show of annoyance from his human side, but not his people-pleasing dog side. He must’ve reached the precipice of tolerance—in both forms.

  After I lost my sight, getting around the house had never been a problem. I had grown up running through the rooms, being chased by my father or playing hide-and-seek with my parents. Aunt Ruthie rearranged some of the more precarious antiques to avoid the occasional hip bump. But for the most part, I wandered through the craftsman-style home as though I had my sight, knowing exactly how many steps to take or when to turn through a doorway.

  Aunt Ruthie took over my parents’ upstairs master suite and sitting room. I hadn’t been upstairs since the accident, so I’m not sure if she changed anything. My bedroom was situated on the first floor in the back of the house, and Vago slept in the guest room next to my bedroom. Aunt Ruthie thought it was unorthodox that a dog should get an entire room all to himself and sleep with the door shut, but that was just one more item on the list of things I didn’t discuss with Aunt Ruthie.

  Though Vago had his own room, every night after he shifted from dog to human—no matter how uneventful the day—he’d come into my room and wake me up to discuss things. He laughed every time I threatened to get a lock installed on my door. It was obvious how much I enjoyed our chats. Since I didn’t leave the house—for fear of receiving uninvited visions about the residents of Coastview—my conversation partners were limited to Vago and Aunt Ruthie. While my aunt and I were extremely close, she’d never understand what was going on with me. She already thought I was teetering on the verge of nut job with my constant barrage of Post-it notes stuck to the refrigerator warning her not to take the freeway between the hours of 11pm and midnight, or to call in sick, or to avoid eating sushi for a few days. She called me paranoid, which I let her believe because I preferred the sanctity of my back yard rather than the looney bin.

  I meandered to the guest room where I found Vago’s blue spirit wrapped around his chocolate brown body like a blanket.

  “Are you mad at me?” I lay on the bed and cuddled next to his furry body, which was curled in a warm ball on top of the pillows.

  He tried to edge away, but then caught my scent and nuzzled in closer. I stroked the top of his round head, resting my hand on his fur.

  “I know I chickened out. Okay? I really wanted to get to the door, but sometimes I just freeze up. I thought I saw one of those oily, slithery Spirit Handlers lurking in the shadows. I might’ve imagined it, but I didn’t want to test the waters, you know?”

  Vago moved out from under my hand and made some room on the pillow for my head. I curled up next to him and listened to the air sift in and out of his nostrils. Every now and then, he’d let out a relaxed sigh or a soft snore. The two of us cozied together and began to descend into a late afternoon nap.

  The quiet moment didn’t last very long. A familiar jolt ripped through my frontal lobe and jerked my body alert. I was receiving a vision. I’ve never had electric shock panels pressed up against my temples, but I’d guess the experience is similar in nature. With my body locked in place, jaw clenched shut, and heartbeat galloping like a trifecta of horses at the finish line, the images flooded my mind. They were lucid to the bone. Not like watching a movie. No. These visions were visceral. But, if only for a brief moment, I was able to see again …

  I’m walking down Main Street with Vago. It’s morning. Many of the small town’s residents are passing by on the sidewalk, coffee cups in hands and smiles on their faces. Most of them are heading toward city hall. Vago is on a leash and pulls me in the same direction. I stop by one of the newspaper dispensers and lean down to check the date. A very important detail Vago taught me a while back. Always look for the date and time in the vision. The paper reads Monday, August 21st. I commit it to memory and keep walking with Vago.

  More and more people are now streaming toward city hall and gathering outside in the courtyard. Aunt Ruthie is standing by the clock tower chatting with a few of the elderly women from the historical society who have spent the last sixty years keeping our small town preserved. Aunt Ruthie is nodding to the women and handing out fliers to the other residents as they pass by. I know why they’re here. It’s about the park. Some developer wants to build a multiplex on the land to bring in new commerce, jobs, and residency. They’re voting today. The whole town will be present for it.

  I stand back with Vago as everyone files up the stairs into the beautiful marble building. The clock tower begins chiming. After the ninth chime, a barrage of motorcycles blare down the main road and up into the courtyard. Men wearing black t-shirts with white letters I can’t decipher park their bikes and rush around. They’re shouting at each other and at some of the security guards. Gunshots are fired. More shouting. The motorcycles take off.

  I glance back toward city hall, and an explosion erupts, blowing Vago and me across the street and slamming us up against a building. We watch, helpless, as gusts of fire surge upward, and marble chunks shower the area. Dark smoke billows from the flames until there is nothing but an entire lid of black covering the town.

  After the vision subsided, I sat up in the bed, gasping for air. Vago jumped down, his claws tip-tapping on the wood floors as he paced in circles. Of all the visions in the last year, I never experienced something so intense or vivid. Especially without anyone else in close proximity. Usually my visions only pertained to Aunt Ruthie. This one was different. I wiped off my forehead and sat on the edge of the bed, taking deep, calming breaths. I didn’t want Aunt Ruthie coming home from the great package chase wondering why I was having what looked like a panic attack.

  “That was nuts. Do you think it’s really going to happen?” I asked Vago.

  He stopped pacing and came back over to me, nudging my knee with his wet snout.

  “The whole town is voting on Monday. This isn’t something I can scribble on a Post-it note and just hope for the best. You know?”

  For a second, I felt an urge to open the front door and run down to city hall to tell them to cancel the vote. But who was I kidding? I’d sound like a hysterical lunatic who had come off her meds. I hadn’t left the house in a year and most of the people in Coastview already considered me the town weirdo. I doubted they’d take some recluse ranting about a potential terrorist attack very seriously. This had to be handled with care and precision. Fortunately, not all of our visions came true and sometimes they were wildly off. That gave me a kernel of hope. Before I made any rash decisions, I could talk to Aunt Ruthie about any unusual activity happening around town.

  ***

  After chasing down the delivery guy for a solid hour, Aunt Ruthie bustled into the house, her pinkish lavender spirit twinkling all around the edges of her roundness. Though I couldn’t see her details, I remembered her gentle blue eyes and soft features as though they had been etched on my heart. She dropped what I guessed was the infamous package onto the dining room table.

  “I only have an hour before my shift at the diner,” she announced, covering up her annoyance with a sing-song tone.

  I stood in the archway between the living and dining rooms, fumbling with my words. I was worried she’d probably call me paranoid and tell me to get out of the house. Vago bumped his snout into the back of my knee, causing me to hitch forward.

  “What’d you order?” I stalled.

  “Oh, it was a surprise for your birthday next week,” she blurted. “But since I’m too frazz
led to keep a secret, I’ll just tell you. It’s a new hi-tech watch. Only it looks like a regular watch. Has a minimalist face and raised markers so you can tell the time. The best part is the built-in GPS.”

  Excitement dotted her voice as she tore open the box and removed the watch, then placed it around my wrist. I liked how she had slipped in that last part about the built-in GPS as if having technology would encourage me to get out more. Always on a crusade to get me out of the house.

  “And it has audible messaging abilities,” she continued. “So we can text each other. You can even listen to all your podcasts and audiobooks. It has the latest technology and fashion.”

  She was so thrilled with her latest find for the blind that her spirit lit up the dining room. I wanted to join in her happiness, I really did, but all I could think about was how much money she had spent on the watch with the built-in GPS. Money she could’ve spent on herself. For that trip to Italy she had been dreaming about for months. It seemed like every penny the poor woman ever earned had gone to the Sibyl Forsyth foundation.

  When I didn’t say anything, she nervously continued chattering. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want. I just thought—”

  I took her pudgy hand and held it against my cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Ruthie. This was very thoughtful and incredibly generous. I can’t wait to learn how to use it.”

  She kissed my fingers and her spirit twinkled and wrapped around me. “There are so many new devices for the blind. You’ll be running around town in no time!” Then she pulled away and headed down the hall. “Now, I must get ready for work!”

  “Wait!” I trailed after her, bumping into her backside when she came to an abrupt stop.

  “What is it, sweetie? I’m late.”

  “Have you noticed any strange or unusual activities around town? Any controversy regarding the multiplex development? Imminent threats?”