Dark Side of Dawn: The Nightmare Chronicles (17 page)

“No.” My voice was as firm as my resolve. “I know you say the fact that I’m not totally human doesn’t bother you, but it does bother me, Noah. It bothers me that you might suffer because of me. And it bothers me that you walked into what could have been a dangerous situation because you were worried about me. I don’t need your protection.”

He stiffened. “And I don’t need yours.”

My heart just about broke as I looked at him. “Yeah,” I whispered. “In the Dreaming, you do.” And I couldn’t guarantee that I could keep him safe.

The hurt on his face broke my heart—not just because of how stark it was, but because he actually allowed me to see it. “Right.”

I didn’t try to stop him when he turned on his heel and moved toward the door. I wanted to, I really did, but I made myself stand there and watch as he walked out of my office and potentially out of my life.

As soon as I was sure he was gone I let the tears come.

Later that week Antwoine called me at work and asked me out to lunch. I immediately jumped at the offer, being eager to hear all about his reunion with the love of his life.

And to be honest, I needed a distraction that training and learning with Hadria and Verek couldn’t give me. I needed something in this world to keep my thoughts off Noah. It had been three days since I last saw or heard from him. Several times I’d been tempted to call and apologize for being an idiot, but I didn’t. Call me a martyr, but the hard truth was that not only was Noah safer away from me, but the Warden has less to use against me with us broken up.

I refused to think about whether or not we’d ever get back together. One thing at a time.

I met Antwoine at a little soup-and-sandwich place not far from work. I had a craving for a chicken Caesar salad, and this place made the best. I paired it with creamy tomato soup with Asiago croutons—yum. Antwoine ordered black bean chili and a smoked turkey on honey wheat—in case you’re interested.

We sat at a table in the back, where we could talk without worrying about anyone hearing if we started talking about “crazy” stuff like walking into dreams and succubi.

Antwoine looked good—well rested and relaxed. I had a pretty good idea what had brought on this new look and did not want to know. I could only assume that Madrene was very good at her job. He looked happy, and that was enough for me.

But when he looked at me after several minutes of small talk, I saw the hesitation in his chocolaty gaze. Hesitation and contrition—not a good combination in my experience.

“What’s up, Antwoine?” I took a sip of my water and tried to calm the fluttering in my stomach. I’d know if my father had found out about the part I’d played in getting Antwoine and Madrene back together.

“Madrene had a visitor yesterday.”

I set my water bottle aside. “From whom?” I refused
to let my mind run through the possibilities. Better to remain calm until he told me. But I had a pretty strong suspicion who the visitor was.

He shook his head, the watery sunlight coming through the window caught the gray in his hair. “She’s gonna be so mad at me for telling you.” His gaze locked with mine, “but you know I can’t let her do something that might get her in trouble.”

He sounded like Noah. I smiled slightly. “I know. What happened?”

Antwoine sighed, as though I had lifted a great weight off of his shoulders. His forearms rested on the table as he leaned forward over his food to fill me in.

“It was the Warden. She wanted to talk to Madrene about you.”

A chill settled over me. Not enough to make my teeth chatter, but I shivered. I had such a hate-on for that woman, but I was still smart enough—for the time being—to be a little afraid. “What did Madrene tell her?”

Antwoine hesitated, but only for a second. “Nothing of importance that I could tell. In fact, I think they argued about what the Warden’s been doing. I heard Madrene tell Padera she was disappointed in her. The Warden didn’t like hearing that.”

I frowned. “Why would the Warden care what Madrene thought of her?”

He shifted in his chair, looking down at the table as his slightly arthritic fingers toyed with the silverware. “Well, that’s the part I felt I needed to tell you. Remember I said that Padera had grown up with the succubi?”

“Sure. You thought Madrene might be able to tell me about her.” The succubus hadn’t told me a damn thing, by the way.

Antwoine looked as though someone had put a plate of live worms in front of him. “I’m not sure how reliable Madrene’s information will be.”

I was shocked to hear such doubt come from his lips. “Why?”

“Because Padera is Madrene’s daughter.”

“You have to be fucking joking.”

Antwoine flinched despite my best attempts to keep my voice at a moderate level. New York might be a “do your own thing” city, but people tended to frown upon screaming obscenities in public.

“I didn’t know,” he insisted, holding his hands out in supplication. “Child, you have got to believe me.”

“Do I?” I demanded, angrier than I could have ever imagined. “You admit that you hate my father. He locked you up in a private cell, and now I’m to believe that it’s just a coincidence that your girlfriend is the mother of the bitch who is trying to have me unmade?” Really, it sounded like something off a bad paranormal soap opera.

“It’s true.”

I might not be able to ignore the pleading in his tone, but I could at least distrust it.

“I knew that Madrene had a daughter, but I never met the girl. Madrene said she wouldn’t understand her mother falling in love with a human.”

Okay, so that I could believe. “Oh, Antwoine.” I sighed and shook my head. I was disappointed, but the anger had disappeared as fast as it had come. Maybe Antwoine was a great liar, but there was no way anyone could fake the distress etched in every line of his open face. If I was going to be mad at anyone, it was Madrene for not telling me the truth when I asked her for information. She’d put me off because she wanted to see Antwoine. Would she have ever confessed?

Probably not. And that didn’t bode well for me ever trusting her again. God, what if Madrene supported her daughter against me and Morpheus? It would make sense. The succubus’s dislike of my father might be what had bred Padera’s own hatred.

I gave Antwoine a sympathetic look. “I’m going to have to tell Morpheus.”

He nodded, defeated. “I know.” Then he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of mine. “Don’t be too angry at her, Dawn. She’s just trying to protect her daughter and make the most of what time we have left.”

I could care less about her kid, but appealing to my romantic nature was effective. “I’ll try.” It was the best promise I could make.

We passed the rest of our lunch uneventfully and quickly. We hugged when we parted company, and I could feel turmoil surrounding him. Was he worried Morpheus would separate him and Madrene for good? Or was he too having doubts about the woman he loved? I had no idea, and quite frankly Antwoine’s love life was the least of my concerns.

What the hell was I going to do about the pain in my ass that was the Warden?

I had made my mind up on that particular issue by the time I got back to my office. Unfortunately, I had to wait until after my next two appointments before I could act. That was probably just as well; it kept me from being too impulsive. And since my impulses tended to turn my eyes into a freaky state and gave me the ability to toss huge Nightmares across rooms, it was probably good that I had time to stew.

When I finally had some free time, I went into the bathroom and locked myself in as usual. Then I opened a portal, stepped through and closed it behind me. Paranoia dies hard, and despite being told that no one could see my portals, I wasn’t going to risk Bonnie having some weird abilities as well. Shit, it was beginning to seem like almost everyone did.

Since I’d met the Warden before it was easy for me to track her—you know the drill. This time my father didn’t pick up on my intent since I managed to keep my emotions at a less noticeable level.

I could have “called” the Warden, let her know I wanted to see her, but since she showed me no consideration whatsoever, I decided to return the favor.

I found myself just on the outside of a small wrought iron gate that surrounded a small English garden and quaint stone cottage. It was tranquil and peaceful. The Bitch Warden lived here?

I followed the walk through the gate and made my way up three shallow steps to the front door. It was heavy oak, old and scarred but undeniably sturdy. The knocker was an iron dagger that matched Verek’s tattoo—the symbol of the Nightmares. I clapped it against the door.

And waited.

I didn’t have to wait long, although it was longer than I wanted. No doubt she knew that. Still, I was surprised at just how little fear I felt when she finally opened the door. Mostly I was just annoyed.

And now here we were, just me and her. And I was definitely bigger.

“Hello, Princess,” the Warden said with a smirk. “You wanted to see me?”

What would her reaction be if I punched her in the mouth?

Honestly. Would she screech like a crow, or would she come out fighting like a rat? I picked the rat. I didn’t trust rats, so I kept my fists balled tightly at my sides.

“I think you and I need to talk,” I told her, my jaw clenched.

“Oh?” She made no move to step out of the doorway and let me inside. “About?”

“About the fact that you want me unmade for endangering a dreamer, yet you threatened that same person.”

Her pale cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Noah squealed on me. I thought he would. Really, Dawn. How can you date a guy who has to hide behind you?”

She was baiting me. I didn’t rise to it. Had Noah? Had she said as much to him? “Leave Noah alone. He’s nothing to you.”

“He’s another one of those disgusting anomalies that threatens our world. He’s almost as much a threat to this world as you are.”

I arched a brow. “Hmm. Sounds like you’re losing sight of your job description. You’re a Nightmare. You’re supposed to protect dreamers.”

She flushed as only redheads can. “My job is to protect this world.”

Now I was smug. “No, your job is to protect dreamers first. I know this because I’ve been learning the rules with Hadria and Verek. But maybe you’re right. We could always ask Morpheus for clarification.”

Twin splotches of crimson marred her cheeks as her eyes glittered like onyx-trimmed jade. “He’d no doubt like to hear that you went against his ruling and reunited Madrene and her lover.”

I smiled, because I had every intention of telling him that myself. “You call your mother, Madrene?”

That drained the color from her face.

“Morpheus would probably be very interested in what you said to your mommy about me. Almost as interested as he was that you threatened Noah.”

For a second—an extremely satisfying second—she looked scared. But then it was gone, and her usual snide arrogance returned. “Be careful what games you play, Little Dawn, you might get hurt.”

I straightened. “Don’t threaten me.”

One shoulder lifted. Were she human I would swear she was French, she was just that good at saying so much with a casual shrug. Every time she did it, I felt waves of disinterest wash over me. “I was merely voicing my concern.”

I scowled despite my best efforts to remain as cool as my opponent. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Padera didn’t look the least bit surprised by the question. “I hate who you are. I hate what you are. I hate what you’ve done to our world.”

“I haven’t done anything.” Whine much? I made my voice firm. “The anomalies started before I was born.”

“But you’re the worst one of all. Don’t you see?” There was a passion to her voice that made me uneasy—like when I dealt with a client who I knew was on the verge of a psychotic break. “You’re going to be the end of us all.”

“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

The Warden’s lips thinned. “If you cared about this world, you’d let them unmake you, turn you totally human.”

“If you cared about this world, you wouldn’t conspire against your king.”

She laughed then, but didn’t bother to deny my accusation either. “Don’t you wonder why Noah won’t let you into his dreams?”

Rage bubbled in my veins at the thought of her invading Noah’s dreams, his private thoughts without his consent. Not only that, but she knew things about him that I didn’t and probably never would. It didn’t matter that she had taken those things from him, she still knew what he would never share with me. “If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.”

Her smile was oily and crimson. So smug and pointed—like a dagger about to plunge into its mark. “I know what he’s hiding from you, and I can’t wait for you to find out what he really is.”

That’s when it happened—when I found out what her reaction would be if I punched her in the mouth. It felt
good, the way her lip split beneath my knuckles. I even kinda liked the way her teeth tore into my skin.

She staggered backward, hand at her mouth to staunch the flow of blood. “Did I break any rules by doing that?” I asked sweetly.

The Warden started to smile, winced, and stopped. But there was a gleam of triumph in her gaze that told me to go for the eyes next time I took a swing. “I will make you pay for that.”

I smirked. “Whatever the price, it will be worth it.”

Some of the gleam left her eyes. “We shall see about that,
Princess
.” Sneers weren’t attractive on a good face, on a bloody one they were definitely cringe-inducing. “You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Another threat. My palms itched, and I wanted to smack her again. “If you hurt anyone I care about—”

She lunged forward, but stopped just shy of actually attacking me. My fists came up, but that was the only response I had time for. “If I hurt anyone, Your Highness, it will be
you
.”

I felt the grin tugging at my lips with disbelief. How could I smile at a time like this? The bitch was threatening me! “Go for it. I’d love to plead self-defense after kicking your ass.” Okay, this was dark Dawn talking. I could feel her twitching and dancing on the balls of her feet. She wanted to let it all out and come down in all her glory on the Warden. I held her back. I didn’t
know what I was capable of, and to be honest, part of me didn’t want to find out.

Pale eyes were hard as they gazed into mine. “You have no idea the pain I can bring you.”

This was what it felt like to go to war—not just to defend myself against an attack, or fight back like I had with Karatos. I was engaging in battle with a foe who could probably kick my ass six ways from Sunday and I wanted it more than I wanted the entire MAC spring line.

“You might be surprised at what I can do,” the dark side of me said with a grin. “Keep pushing and you’ll find out.”

Her face was a mask of fury in the face of my insolence. “I will be the end of you,” she promised. And then she slammed the door in my face.

Instead of being filled with fear or regret, I was filled with elation—and a sense of…bloodlust. It was like going into a game, determined to win.

“Not”—I murmured with a smile as I turned to go—“if I end you first.”

My mother looked like crap.

I watched as she poured tea for both of us. She looked more delicate than usual, but without the glamour she normally exuded. She was pale, and she looked tired. Oh, she was still dressed to the nines in a plum sweater
and chocolate pants with Prada shoes and Chanel jewelry, but I could see the signs.

“How are you holding up?” I asked dumbly, as though the answer wasn’t sitting across the table from me.

“All right,” she replied, but even her voice sounded wary. “The pull from the human world is very strong.” She smiled but there wasn’t much humor in that. “I suppose you’re happy that I may have to face my sins.”

I would have thought that too. “Not like this, not being forced against your will.”

She looked surprised as she set the teapot back on its tray. She paused for a second before speaking. “Part of me thinks I should let this doctor bring me back and say good-bye properly, but I’m scared.”

I picked up a little tuna sandwich and nibbled on the corner. “You think if this guy can wake you up, he can also stop you from returning here?” It’s what I’d be afraid of.

She nodded. “That makes me awful, doesn’t it?”

I shrugged, surprised at just how charitable my feelings toward her had become. “Your life is here.” Now I smiled without humor. “At least you know which world you want as your own.”

A thin hand closed over mine. Frail she might be, but she was still warm and surprisingly strong. “I have to choose, Dawn. You don’t. You can belong to both.”

I chuckled drily. But couldn’t it also be said that I
didn’t truly belong in either? Really, I don’t think the majority of people in either world would accept me for what I was. “I’m not sure my balance is that good.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you. You always did whatever you set your mind to.”

I didn’t remember being like that at all, but I didn’t argue. I really wanted her to be right. I didn’t want to have to choose.

Instead, I changed the subject. “Morpheus must be going nuts over all of this.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “You don’t know the half of it. He’s bound and determined to keep me here. If not for him I might have already given up.”

If not for him she wouldn’t be here, but I didn’t say anything. I resented my mother for so long for leaving us, but part of me could understand the allure of a man who wanted you just as you were. I had hoped Noah might be that man for me, but right now I just didn’t see how that was possible when there always seemed to be someone from the Dreaming gunning for me and using him to do it.

And someone insinuating that he was hiding something from me—something that could change how I felt about him.

I took a sugar cookie from the plate before me—my grandmother’s recipe—and drank my tea. We made a little small talk, and then Mom got down to business.

“I have a favor I need to ask of you, Dawnie.”

I set my cup and saucer on the floral-print tablecloth and folded my hands in my lap. Composed, ready, and putting on a good face. “What?”

She held her cup and saucer in her lap, toying with the handle of the cup to turn it one way and then the other. It reminded me of my grandmother telling me how to turn the cup before she read my tea leaves. “If they wake me up, I want you to look after your father. He’s not going to accept my being gone easily.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying.” It was a lame-ass attempt at humor.

Her gaze locked with mine. “He’ll feel like I have.”

God. Throat tight, I nodded. “I’ll look after him.” Really, what was I going to do? Hold his hand? I hated to think of what he might do if she was gone—how grief might make him react. Grief always made gods unstable, irrational, and downright dangerous. I know this because I took a class in mythology in university.