Dark Side of Dawn: The Nightmare Chronicles (13 page)

Sucking in a deep breath and hoping my palms weren’t too clammy, I closed my eyes. I thought about the places where I normally encountered the mist and decided that the gates to the palace would be the best location. It was the one I could envision the most clearly.

I pushed everything else, especially doubt and fear, out of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. When I felt ready, I pushed all the breath out of my lungs, took a firm grip on my companions’ hands, and concentrated
on where I wanted to go. A faint breeze stirred my hair, and when I opened my eyes we were standing in front of the Gates of Horn and Ivory.

“Excellent,” Hadria praised as she released my hand. “Very impressive, Dawn.”

I tried to act casual, like it was nothing, but the effect was ruined when I grinned like an idiot. “Thanks.”

Even Verek looked impressed, and I realized that I had done something that Hadria couldn’t do. Maybe Verek couldn’t do it either. Neat.

But, as usual, my happy-times were short lived as the mist moved in like a pack of gleeful puppies. It practically rubbed against Verek and Hadria, and I imagined I could see it bristle when it set its many eyes on me.

It was so weird. It just looked like normal fog. A little on the thick side maybe, but it didn’t seem the least threatening. I don’t have to say that looks can be deceiving, do I?

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I could hear it whispering as it came toward me, gliding over the smooth stone of the drive. I stood still, letting it come to me, trying to keep my breathing mellow as it approached. Verek and Hadria watched from the sidelines. My Nightmare trainer had a hopeful look on his rugged face, and I knew he was almost as nervous as I was.

“Monster,”
the mist whispered.
“Strange.”

It wrapped around my legs. I could feel its cold through my jeans, but I didn’t move, not even when I felt a jagged claw rake my hand. “Stop that,” I said softly. “I’m no threat to you.” I wasn’t about to let its words get to me, not when I’d heard it all before.

“Threat,”
came that whispery voice that was like a thousand children whispering together.

“I’m not a threat,” I repeated. I tried to keep my breathing regular and my heart rate low, but my ribs were thumping like the bass line of a dance-club jam.

The mist slithered around me, scratching and nipping as it climbed. I stiffened as it neared my face. I couldn’t lose it. I couldn’t get angry, no matter how much I wanted to summon my Morae blade and slice the wispy bastards to shreds.

Cool fingers threaded through my hair, tugging hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. “Stop it,” I hissed.

Was that laughter I heard? My temper flared, but I set my jaw and didn’t say a word. My anger and fear only fed it—made it all the more resolved that I was its enemy.

Until it laid my cheek open in three deep gashes. I screamed, which made it hurt even more. My face burned as blood gushed down my jaw and neck. I fell to my knees as the poison hit my system, gasping for air as the mist covered me, slicing and clawing and biting like a pack of hungry lions. I couldn’t breathe
it was wrapped around me so tight—tight enough to crack my ribs.

I couldn’t fight physically anymore, but as I gasped for breath I reached out to the mist with my mind—not to hurt it, but to prove myself a non-threat. I touched something. It felt as though the mist was seeping through my skin, becoming part of me.

And then it was gone and I was lying on the stones with Hadria and Verek kneeling beside me. Verek’s face was fierce and worried at the same time, but Hadria’s expression was as serene as always. It was her I concentrated on.

Long, cool fingers touched my brow. “Heal yourself, Dawn,” she urged, her voice soothing. “I will help you.”

She began to chant in an old language I recognized but didn’t really understand. It was the language of the Dreaming—a dialect older than man. The rhythm of her voice gave me something to focus on while I willed my body to knit itself back together. The first time the mist infected me, Morpheus had to use some special concoction to draw the poison out, but now that I knew what I needed, I was able to conjure up that same kind of treatment.

When I opened my eyes again I was whole, with only a slight tingling in a few places as a reminder of the mist’s wrath.

“Are we done?” I asked drily.

Hadria helped me to my feet while Verek hovered close by. She chuckled. “I believe so. You will conquer the mist, Dawn, but I must tell you how impressed I am with some of your other abilities.”

“Thanks.” I hope I sounded more sincere than I felt. I took her hand in mine and grabbed Verek’s arm. Without saying a word, I closed my eyes and willed us back to Hadria’s cave, where I knew food waited. I needed to eat. And I needed to be as far away from that goddamn mist as I could get.

Verek held out a chair for me and I thanked him for his chivalry as I wearily sat. God, I felt as though I’d had the snot kicked out of me six times over. So, I was a little surprised when he leaned down and whispered near my ear, “You did good, Princess.”

I snatched a piece of cheese. “Yay me.”

After regaining my strength, I left my trainers and set out to do what I had originally intended to do that evening—find Madrene. I really wanted to get the hell out of there, and let myself dream and sleep like a normal woman, curled up beside my boyfriend, but that would have to wait.

Would I ever have a regular night’s sleep again? It didn’t matter that time in the Dreaming refreshed me like a king-sized dose of R.E.M., I simply wanted to dream like other humans, not even falling off a cliff or
walking around naked would bother me so long as it was only in my sleep.

But, that would have to wait. Not long, hopefully. As soon as I found Madrene I’d have my normal sleep until the alarm went off.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. All I wanted to do was find the succubus and make sure she wanted to see Antwoine as much as he wanted to see her. If she didn’t, I wasn’t about to let my friend face that kind of rejection from the woman he loved.

I had no idea where succubi spent their time—other than sexing up the dreams of human men. I certainly didn’t want to walk in on one of those, so I approached my search for Madrene with a degree of caution.

I should have done this weeks ago. I was a jerk for letting crap get in the way of keeping my promise to Antwoine.

I concentrated on locating all succubi rather than just the one, because frankly, I didn’t really know how to track someone I’d never met. However, I had seen the bordello before, once when I was a kid. My memory of it was squiggly, but it was good enough to bring me to the house where the girls lived. The incubi lived there as well, which I’m sure led to some interesting parties given the sexual nature of each species.

What exactly was the purpose of these dream creatures? They were there to tackle sexual issues, desires,
repressed feelings. They also were there for the simple reason to give pleasure to dreamers. Is my father charitable or what?

I walked into a foyer of a building that looked like an Arabian palace. I don’t know if it was my mind that made it look this way, or if this was its true appearance. Mellow stone walls welcomed me, as did silks and velvets in rich colors. In fact, it looked a bit like my bedroom in New York. Hmm. Hadria said I was a little bit of everything. I guess my decorating tastes were succubus. Could be worse, I suppose.

The air smelled of incense—soft and spicy, heady and inviting—not the cheap kind that could cover the odor of a sewer with its thick, choking sweetness. Music drifted throughout the interior, softly muted by closed doors and lush fabrics.

It was everything a sultan’s harem should be. Although, I was pretty sure my father didn’t use this place for his own pleasure; I hoped he didn’t.

“May I help you?” came a very bored, very British-sounding voice from behind me.

I turned and found myself facing a major-domo who could have been Cary Grant’s doppelganger. He didn’t look impressed to see me.

“The incubi are all otherwise engaged,” he told me as he flipped open a large leather-bound book. “You’ll have to make an appointment.”

“I’m not here for an incubus,” I replied, trying not to sound as startled as I was. “I’m looking for a succubus.”

He arched one dark brow, but remained otherwise expressionless. “I see.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, you don’t. I’m here to speak to Madrene. Is she here?”

He seemed surprised that I knew a name—surprised enough that he stopped being condescending long enough to actually look at me. I knew the moment he figured out who I was, because his expression changed big-time, even if it was only for a second. “You’re the Princess.”

It was hard not to puff up a bit when referred to me as royalty. “I’m Dawn. And you are?”

“Fitzhugh, Your Majesty.” He actually bowed. “Forgive my impertinence. I did not expect a person such as yourself to pay a social call this evening.”

Meaning most people of higher birth in the Dreaming made appointments, as he had inferred earlier. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m still learning the proper way to do things.” I flashed a demure smile. “Is Madrene here by any chance?”

He glanced down at the book and rifled a few pages. “She is. But I’m afraid she is with a dreamer at the moment. If you could come back…”

“I’ll wait.”

Fitzhugh appeared startled and distressed by this pro
nouncement. “Your Highness, this is highly irregular. It could be quite some time before Madrene is finished, and then she has another appointment this evening.”

I forced a smile as I reached out and gently set my hand on top of his. “Listen, Fitz—can I call you Fitz?—I’ve had a really bad night. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it any rougher. I only need a few moments of Madrene’s time, so do I wait over here on this lovely sofa for you to collect her when she’s done with her dreamer, or do I go looking for her myself?”

He gasped and pulled away, but I grabbed his hand in a tight grip. His wide gaze locked with mine and I knew from that familiar burning feeling behind my retinas that my eyes had gone very bright and clear with thick black spidery rims. Karatos had similar eyes and they’d scared the hell out of me, pretty as they were.

“What’s it gonna be, Fitz?” Look at me being all badass. Actually I felt like I was one bad line of movie dialogue away from losing control and letting all the dark energy inside me go.

Fitzhugh must have picked up on that too, because after clearing his throat, he said, “I would be delighted to fetch Madrene for you, Your Highness. Of course her next appointment can wait a few moments. If you would follow me to the parlor, I’ll have her come down.”

It was that easy. I could get used to throwing my weight around, you know? For that reason alone, it was better
that I didn’t make a habit of intimidating my people. I didn’t want to be hated any more than I already was.

“Thank you, Fitzhugh.” And I meant it. “I appreciate you being so accommodating.”

The doorman blinked, obviously astounded by my change in demeanor. “It is of no consequence, Your Highness.”

I followed him through a dimly lit corridor. Our steps were muffled by a thick Persian-print carpet in spicy hues. Larger than life statues held sconces high above our heads, like glasses raised in greeting. One stood like a sentinel outside the door I was led to.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he instructed, gesturing for me to enter. “I shall send Madrene down directly.”

I thanked him again and walked through the open doorway. The parlor was decorated much like what I had seen of the rest of the place—soft plaster walls in a sand color held softly glowing lamps. The high ceiling was painted with delicate frescos and the furniture was rich in color, and so plush a body could sink into it.

I sat on an eggplant-colored sofa that was soft as velvet and three times as luxurious. The coffee table was heavy carved wood with a rough stone mosaic top. On it was a decanter of wine and two crystal glasses. Had they been there when I came in? It didn’t matter. I poured myself a glass of wine, knowing it would be my favorite, and settled back against the cushions to await my succubus.

I didn’t have to wait long. True to the major-domo’s word, Madrene entered the room a few minutes later. At least, I assumed she was Madrene. As soon as I could lift my jaw off the floor, I would ask just to be sure.

I knew succubi were beautiful, but this woman went beyond beautiful. She was beyond sexy. This woman was nature and earthiness at its finest. She was average height, but that was the only thing average about her. Think Beyonce or Halle and then multiply that by one hundred. Her hair was thick, long and burnished with bronze. Her eyes were the color and brilliance of topaz, and her skin was unblemished café au lait.

She was in short, a goddess. And faced with such magnificence, I felt every bit the meager
half
goddess that I was.

She bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“Please don’t,” I managed to say when I recovered from the sight of her. Her voice was just as gorgeous as her face. I might have hated her were I not so awed. “My name is Dawn. Are you Madrene?”

She nodded. “I am.”

I gestured at the seat next to me on the sofa. “Will you sit? Have some wine?”

She was wary of my motives, but since I was royalty she wasn’t about to refuse me. Given what my father had done to her and Antwoine, I couldn’t blame her for being suspicious of anyone of my bloodline.

When she sat—barely denting the cushions, I might add—I poured her a glass of the wine and took a sip from my own.

“I won’t keep you,” I promised. “I’ve come because I have a proposition for you.”

She regarded me warily with exotically slanted eyes. “What sort of proposition?”

“I’m told you might be able to give me some information about the Warden of the Nightmares.”

Her perfectly smooth brow wrinkled. “Padera?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’d appreciate anything you can tell me.”

Madrene shrugged. “I will tell you what I can. May I be so bold as to ask what you offer in return for this information?”