The Light (Morpheus Road) by D.J. MacHale

clock that blew warm air across your face would be a cool invention. I filed it under "things to do but probably never will" and reached over my head to pull the window shut.
    My hand hit glass. The window wasn't open. Huh? I
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    sat up straight and looked to the other window. It was shut tight. My bedroom door was closed too. Where was the breeze coming from?
    Brraaaannngggggg!
    The alarm went off. The real alarm. I was definitely awake after that. I hammered it off and sat there wondering why our house had suddenly sprung a wind leak. I decided not to stress and to tell Dad about it when he got home.
    My breakfast was a healthy combination of raspberry-filled Pop-Tarts and chocolate milk. I fed Winston, got out the Ovaltine, and stirred up a king-size glass. It wasn't until I was sitting at the kitchen counter, chewing on the raw Pop-Tart (I never bother to toast them), that I looked to the window over the sink and remembered what had happened the night before. It was already a bright morning. Warm summer sun streamed in. The idea that a mysterious creeper who hated classic rock was lurking around outside seemed kind of silly. I listened. There was no dripping water. All the normal sounds of the house were there, just as they should be. I laughed, remembering how terrified I had been as I searched every dark corner with a heavy iron, ready for action. I felt pretty silly about the whole thing.
    I was reaching for my glass of chocolate milk when Winston suddenly jumped up onto the counter.
    "Whoa!" I shouted, and pulled back quickly. My sudden move startled the cat and she shot past me, knocking over the container of Ovaltine. Brown chocolate powder spread all over the white tiles of the counter.
    "Winston!" I yelled, as if that would have done anything. It wasn't like she was going to come back and clean up. I was ticked. The Ovaltine was supposed to last me for the week. I hated to trash it, but the idea of shoveling it all back into the container to be used again kind of grossed me
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    out. It was officially garbage. I pulled the trash can from under the sink and grabbed a sponge.
    As I was about to turn away from the sink, I felt another short, soft breeze. I wasn't imagining it--the air had definitely moved. But the window wasn't open. None of the windows were open. I went into the living room to check the thermostat. Maybe during my frantic house search the night before I had accidentally turned on the air-conditioning. Those stray puffs of air must have been coming from the air ducts built into the floor and the ceiling.
    When I checked the thermostat, I saw that everything was turned off. Still, I knew it had to be something else that was equally simple, so I shrugged it off and went back into the kitchen to scrape up the Ovaltine. I was about to start wiping up the powder when the puff of wind returned. This time it not only blew my hair, it blew some of the chocolate powder across the counter. I froze in mid swipe and leaned down so that my face was on counter level. Several impossible puffs of air from nowhere blew the chocolate around like a mini storm in a desert. I couldn't take my eyes off it. It was like some odd air vortex was spreading the powder across the countertop.
    After a few seconds the brown powder was spread out over the white tiles. For a second I actually thought it was a cool phenomenon. I was debating about whether or not to clean it up or leave it to show Dad . . . when the breeze returned and I watched the impossible happen. The powder moved, but instead of spreading out randomly, a pattern began to emerge. While much of the brown chocolate blew to the side, some of it remained in place. Slowly, very slowly, the powder that was left behind formed a swirl. Then another. And a third. They were all the same size, about four inches in diameter and connected in the center. It was a simple pattern, but there was no way a random puff of air could have formed it.
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    I had no idea of what I was