Dark Side of Dawn: The Nightmare Chronicles (7 page)

Instinct took over and I ran into the alley after them. I ran up behind the man who now had Amanda on the ground. He knelt between her legs and all I had to do was kick him hard in the back of the head to stop him.

But this wasn’t real-time and me hurting him wouldn’t change anything in Amanda’s world.

Instead I moved around behind Amanda and knelt at the top of her head. The alley was rough and pebbles dug into my knees through my jeans. I willed them away and reached out for Amanda.

He had shoved a gag into her mouth and held her arms above her head with one hand as he pulled at her track pants. She struggled and he hit her—hard. I could hear her sobs mixed with his harsh breathing. I felt sick.

I placed my hands on her head and stroked her temples and hair. “Look at his face,” I said. “Look at his face and see him.”

Amanda whimpered and shook her head. Her attacker hit her again. He had her pants off now. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just sit here and watch…

I took her fear, bit by bit. I took her pain. I gently rubbed her forehead with my thumbs and held her still so she had to look at him. “See him,” I told her. “It’s all right.” And then I drew that fear and pain out of her and into myself. It rolled over me like oil, thick with grit, coating me. I’d never felt anything like it before in my life.

I cried out. I couldn’t help it. But I kept my hands on Amanda. I was slowly peeling back the darkness Amanda’s mind had placed over his features to reveal his face, not just to her, but to me as well.

She struggled, gasping for air. He drew back his arm once more, lifting his head, and as his fist came down,
I saw his face. Amanda saw his face. It was so normal, so unremarkable except for the hate twisting it.

Fear raced through my veins—Amanda’s fear. This prick couldn’t hurt me. I pushed her emotions aside and concentrated on why I was there. It wasn’t to play voyeur, or analyze this bastard’s sociopathy, it was to help Amanda.

“Remember his face,” I told her. “You want to tell the police what he looks like. And when the police catch him, you’ll put him behind bars. You’re stronger than him.” Yes, I had rehearsed this bit. I wanted to make sure I planted the right suggestions in her head. It was important that she identify the rapist, but more important that she know that she would go on.

And now it was time to end this horror. I wasn’t going to witness anymore of this—and I wasn’t going to let Amanda suffer anymore than she had to. I could give her a partial reprieve, just this once.

I drew a deep breath, summoning whatever power I had in this world. It came over me like warm water, washing away the greasy dirt of the rape. Inside I felt as though I had grown to an enormous size, ripe with strength and knowledge.

“You’re at City Bakery,” I said, capturing a memory of Amanda’s that rose to greet me. “You’re having hot chocolate with Noah.” Normally I would shy away from witnessing a happier moment between my boyfriend
and his ex-wife, but given what I had just watched, my wants didn’t amount to crap. I could deal.

“Remember how nice that day was.” I “pushed” the thought into her subconscious, replacing this dark alley with the well-lit, chocolate-scented interior of the shop. “It was cold, and the hot chocolate was so good.”

Suddenly Amanda was whole and unhurt, and sitting on a chair in a pair of jeans and a blue sweater. Her blond hair was loose and she held a huge cup of chocolate.

And she was smiling at Noah like he’d hung the moon and stars. And he was looking at her like he would do anything she asked.

I had no business being there. I had no business feeling guilty for seeing, or jealous over what I had seen.

“For the rest of the night, you’ll dream only of happy things,” I told her, touching her shoulder gently as I turned away from the obviously in love couple. “Sleep well, Amanda.”

And then I left. I actually walked out of the shop out onto the sidewalk and took a few steps before I remembered that this was a dream. Amanda’s dream. And I needed to get the hell out of it.

God, I was such a mess.

I panicked. Amanda’s fear and pain—her rage—was too much for me. I was like a rabbit running from a wild cat. In fact, I actually began to run. I had to
escape the unknown hunter tight on my heels. As I ran down the street, past the nameless people and endless stream of cars in Amanda’s subconscious, I prayed for an out.

“Open,” I begged, breathless and sweating.
“Open.”

Ahead of me the sidewalk cracked, splintering like the shell of a hard-boiled egg. Yes! I focused all of my will on that crack as I picked up pace. My lungs were going to freaking burst soon.

One good push and that fracture turned into a rupture, and then a crevice, ripping the concrete apart like it was nothing—and while the Dreaming might be ever changeable, that pavement was as real as the actual streets of Manhattan. It was me tearing the sidewalk apart like paper. My power.

Whatever pride I might have felt disappeared as the ground beneath me opened and swallowed me whole. I fell—and like an idiot, I fell screaming.

Just like in the movies, I bolted upright on the bed with a large, harsh gasp.

Noah was there beside me in a second, taking my shoulders in his strong, warm hands. “Dawn, you OK?”

I was breathing like I’d just run a marathon, but I nodded. I was OK. Now that I was awake and out of Amanda’s head I was more than OK. I was fan-freaking-tastic.

Noah hovered over me, frowning, his dark brows
pulled tight over his fathomless eyes. “Jesus, Doc. You look awful.”

I chuckled—more from relief than humor. “I feel it.” I slumped against him, relishing the heat of his body as I closed my eyes in total mental exhaustion. “It was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced.”

I felt his body shift and knew he was looking down at the top of my head. “You saw it?”

There was an edge to his voice that warmed me despite its brusqueness. He wasn’t angry at me. He was angry at what I had witnessed.

“I felt it,” I explained, glancing up into the pitch black light of his eyes. “I took her emotions into myself.”

He hugged me then—fiercely, and so tight I could barely breathe. “You scare the shit out of me.”

I hugged him back, fighting the rush of tears that flooded and burned the back of my eyes. I scared myself sometimes, but I knew Noah meant it as a backhanded compliment. “I hope the police find him soon,” I heard myself say, even though I didn’t want to talk. I was pretty much myself again, but that fear clung, like a bad taste in the back of my mouth—a nightmare not quite remembered, but you know it was bad.

“Five minutes alone with the bastard,” Noah muttered. The muscle in his jaw ticked. “That’s all I want.”

Noah was trained in aikido, and despite the defen
sive nature of the martial art, there was no doubt in my mind as to what he would do in the span of those five minutes.

“Would you kill him?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know or not.

He shrugged. “I’d like to.”

This would have been a great time to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help myself. “Because of what he did to Amanda, or out of general principle?”

Confusion deepened his frown. “Is this about you being jealous again?”

Was I angry at myself for wanting to say yes, or angry at him for not seeing the big picture? I wasn’t quite sure. “A little, but more about you saying you could kill someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I should have known better than to say something like that in front of you. Now you’re going to pick it apart.”

“Yeah,” I replied honestly. “I am. You’d save yourself a huge pain in the ass if you just told me yourself.”

Noah sighed, and flashed me what I interpreted as a begrudging grin. “You’re impossible.”

“Don’t forget scary,” I reminded him glibly.

His laughter was more genuine this time. “Yeah, I’d like to kill the guy for what he did to Amanda, for hurting people who are smaller than him, weaker than him. Could I actually kill him, yeah. I think I could.”

I appreciated his honesty. “And that’s why I hope you never get your five minutes alone.”

“Okay, miss morally superior, what would you do to him if you got the chance?”

I didn’t miss a beat. “Make him dream about being raped every night for the rest of his life until he repented and begged for mercy.”

He wore a smug expression that made me want to flick him in the eye—and jump his bones. “I just want to kill him. You want to make him suffer. Maybe you should analyze your own feelings, Doc.”

I poked him in the ribs. “Maybe I should make you dream about the perils of arguing with me.” I was only half joking. I hadn’t messed with anyone’s dreams since Jackey Jenkins bullied me into torturing her thirteen years ago. Hell hath no fury like a picked-on fifteen-year-old.

He pulled me closer. “You going to punish me, Dr. Riley?” A sexy glint lit his eyes. A teasing glint.

I pushed him away, but the effect was ruined by my laughter. “You’d deserve it.”

Noah looked down at the bedsheets before raising his gaze to mine once more. “You shouldn’t be jealous of Amanda. Really. I’m where I want to be.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. I gave a jerky nod. “It’s hard not to envy that history—what the two of you once had.”

He raked a hand through his thick, inky hair, his expression almost incredulous. “I think I should tell you why Amanda and I divorced.”

“I thought it was because she had an affair.”

“It was, but there’s more.”

I looked at him, seeing the uncertainty—and was that guilt?—in his gaze. “How much more?”

Noah looked down at his hands. “Amanda and I divorced because when I found out about the affair I reacted badly. I hurt her.”

“Did you hit her?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to.” His laughter was harsh. “I wanted to. I even raised my hand…but I didn’t. I tried to walk away and then she got in my face and was crying. She begged me to forgive her.”

I was so relieved he hadn’t actually struck her that it took me a few seconds to find my voice. “Then how did you hurt her?”

He was silent for a moment as well, as though pondering whether or not to tell me. “She tried to keep me from leaving. I pushed her away, and she bruised her legs on the coffee table. I told her I wanted a divorce and then I left.” When his gaze met mine, the dark depths of his eyes were bright with guilt. “I didn’t leave her because she fucked someone else. I left because at that moment, I wanted to hit her.”

I frowned, then forced my expression to soften as I took his hand. “Noah, I don’t think there are too many people out there who wouldn’t have felt the same kind of anger faced with the same situation.” Last time a guy screwed around on me I wanted to kick him in the balls so hard he’d have to call a search party to find them again. What made me a reasonably sane person is that I didn’t kick him. And Noah, despite growing up as he had, proved that he wasn’t like his father by forcing Amanda away from him rather than hitting her.

Noah pulled his hand from mine. “Don’t try to make it okay, Doc. It’s not.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “You both hurt each other, but you’ve gotten past it enough to be friends. You’ve been there for her when she needs you most, if that doesn’t alleviate your guilt, I have to think there’s more to it than what you’re telling me.”

He glared at me, but oddly enough, I didn’t take it personally. “I hate it when you’re so fucking calm and professional.”

A little spark of anger kindled inside me, but I pushed it down. He wanted me angry. Anger he could deal with. Patience was what needled him. I smiled instead. “It won’t happen again.”

He was still chuckling when I drew him down onto the bed beside me, and we fell asleep wrapped around each other, smiling.

Over the next few days my life was fairly quiet. The Warden didn’t bother me, although I heard from Verek when we met for a shape-shifting session—something I’d seen Karatos do but hadn’t tried yet myself—that she was asking a lot of questions about what had happened with Karatos.

That made me so angry I turned into the Warden—which kinda freaked Verek out. It seems that taking on the forms of humans is normal, but not so much taking on the visage of other Dreamkin. One more item in the “freak” side of my tally sheet. I had been trying to concentrate on someone to “become” and my rage had filled in the rest.

On the other hand, this shape-changing thing could come in handy if I wanted to assume the form of someone a dreamer knew while I was in their dreams. Imagine how I could help heal old wounds if I could give my clients someone to actually confront? Anyway, it was still a new thing to me.

He said the Warden was also asking about Noah, which bugged me despite my expecting it. She could ask all she wanted. I hadn’t done anything that I wouldn’t do again.

Well, maybe I wouldn’t bring Noah into the Dreaming again, but I had done it out of fear for him, and I wasn’t going to apologize for wanting to save his life—even though he spent most of his free time lately glued to Amanda’s side.

(I will not be bitter. I will not be petty.)

So it wasn’t really a surprise when I felt the familiar buzzing in my brain—my father was calling me to him. Good thing it was Friday afternoon and I had no other appointments scheduled for the day.

I stuck my head out into the waiting area. “Hey, Bonnie, if I get any calls just take a message, please.”

The older woman saluted me as she reached to pick up the ringing phone. “Aye, Captain Kiddo.”

I shut the door with a snort of laughter. What would I do without her?

I grabbed my purse and went into the bathroom—
my usual spot for complete privacy. I made sure the lid was down on the toilet before I sat—best way to avoid all kinds of embarrassment—and tried something new. Instead of opening a portal big enough for me to walk through, I took today’s compact from my bag and opened it. Benefit Some Kind-a Gorgeous foundation has a
huge
mirror. That mirror was what I planned to use as my own personal comm link to the Dreaming.

A silver bowl full of water probably would have worked better, but I was low on scrying supplies. Snort.

Anyway, I concentrated on the smooth surface that reflected my face, looked beyond myself to what lurked beyond. Think about it—the realm of the Dreaming is a world behind ours, a world that lives in shadows and reflections. What I saw in that mirror wasn’t really me, it was a me made of light and shadow—my interpretation of myself.

Basically, it’s all about illusion, and that’s what my father is king of. It made sense, and I remembered my mother using a similar trick before pulling her Sleeping Beauty routine.

The surface seemed to ripple, waving like the molten stuff the evil Terminator was made of in the second movie. Pretty. Colors flashed along the surface, bending and swirling until they took a clear shape. It was my father.

“Look who’s remembered how to call home!” He grinned, obviously proud.

I grinned back. “Like riding a bike,” I quipped. I wasn’t very good at the bike thing. Really, it was just dangerous to trust two skinny little wheels and spindly brakes with the considerably uncoordinated woman that is me. “What’s up?”

“I’ve come to issue an invitation.”

My eyebrows rose. “How very Jane Austen of you.”

He chuckled. “Ah, Jane. Interesting dreams, that one.”

I’d rather keep my opinion of Jane as high as it was, so I didn’t ask. “An invite to what?”

“Hadria’s home. At your earliest convenience.”

Polite euphemism for “get your ass there pronto.” How was I supposed to feel about this? Her power was scary and her eyes were freaky, but I didn’t sense any danger from the priestess. “Does she report to the Council?”

Morpheus nodded, but he obviously sensed my indecision. “Hadria is highly respected, Dawn. The Council will take her opinion very seriously.”

I stared at him for a moment. “You asked her to meet with me, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

I scowled. “Is it so bad that you need to call in your old girlfriends?”

He laughed—not that I took much solace in his humor. “Hadria is an old and dear friend. I think very highly of her, but she won’t lie for me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Her recommendation to the Council will be unbiased and based solely on her opinion of you.”

Though his tone was easy, my father’s words chilled me. “So if she doesn’t like me I’m toast.”

“If she truly thinks you’re a threat she will say so, but I don’t think that’s what she’ll find.”

I thought of the Warden and the vitriol in her tone as she accused me of basically being the Dreaming’s equivalent to the Anti-Christ. “Do people really think I’m out to destroy your world?”

“It’s your world too,” came the soft reply. I didn’t argue, even though I wanted to. I was only half of that world. Half of this. Whole of neither. “See Hadria as soon as you can. I think you’ll find her extremely helpful.”

“I will.” If for no other reason than to get some straight answers. Hadria would have no reason to want to protect me from the truth, unlike my father.

“Good girl.” He gave me a quick grin. “I have to get back. Your mother doesn’t know I snuck out.”

“Trying to keep her in the dark are you?”

He gave me a droll look. “I’m trying to worry her as little as possible.”

“She’s not some delicate flower, you know.” I thought
of Amanda and all she had suffered. “It won’t hurt her to face reality.”

The God of Dreams tilted his head and gave me a strange look. I recognized the expression as one of my own. In fact, his entire posture was like looking in a mirror. Which, of course, I was doing. Weird. “You don’t know how she’s suffered since leaving her family.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “I’m not having this argument again.”

He nodded, surprising me by backing down. Normally he’d launch a hot defense in Mom’s honor. Maybe he was as tired of the argument as I was. “Take care of yourself, my sweet dream.”

He hadn’t called me that in years. Damn him for choking me up and then disappearing, because that’s exactly what he did. One second he was there and the next he was gone.

Leaving me staring at nothing but my own watery-eyed reflection.

Why did everyone in the Dreaming seem to hate me? What had I done to deserve this?

Feeling sorry for myself was not an attractive trait, but I seemed to indulge way more than was healthy. As a fat kid I was picked on a lot—and disliked for no reason. I don’t think I was a brat, but other kids never seemed to like me. All I ever wanted was to be liked.

I had that feeling now. I just wanted the people of my
father’s world to like me and accept me. I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to belong.

My eyes stung as a tear trickled down my cheek. Great. Now I was bawling. Sniffing, I grabbed a tissue from the box on the bathroom vanity and dabbed at my eyes, careful not to smudge my mascara. Vain even in the face of self-realization.

I left work shortly after that. Bonnie didn’t ask, but I could tell from her expression that she knew something was up. I wonder if she knew what it was. God knew I didn’t.

I went to Noah’s rather than my own apartment. I didn’t want to be alone. I needed…something. Something good. Something I could hold on to. It didn’t make sense, but I was going to run with it.

He answered the door a couple of seconds after I pressed the buzzer. Thank God he was there. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been home.

“What took you so long?” Noah demanded lightly, rumpled and barefoot in the entranceway.

I went to him and put my arms around him. The door closed behind me, sealing me into the tiny vestibule where there was nothing but Noah. I was surrounded by warm, firm flesh that smelled of warmly spiced vanilla and felt like heaven.

I don’t know what came over me, but I began to shake. I needed him so badly at that moment—needed
him inside me. Needed to feel his skin against mine. Needed to feel something. I fumbled with the button fly on his jeans.

He stared at me a second. I held his gaze as my fingers tore at his clothes. He must have seen the desperation in my eyes because he didn’t say a word, but his mouth came down on mine—hot and hard. There was no gentleness in the kiss, and I returned it with equal fervor. His lips were insistent, fierce even, and a thick rush of emotion pushed through my veins.

“You kill me,” he growled against my lips as he held my face in his hands. Then he kissed me again—softer this time, but no less intense. I kissed back, meeting his tongue with mine, letting him taste how much I needed him—wanted him.

“I want you,” I whispered. “Here. Now.”

There were probably some men who would have suggested going upstairs, to where a comfortable sofa, and an even more comfortable bed waited, but I wasn’t interested in comfort and Noah seemed to sense that. Luckily for me, he was adventurous.

Noah backed me against the wall, squeezing my ass with both hands before sliding them up to my chest. He pinched my nipples through my sweater and bra and I was so turned on I gasped. It felt so good, even through all the layers.

Only the clothes that needed to be gotten rid of
were removed—and quickly. My jeans and panties were tossed aside, but my socks stayed on. I could have laughed were I not so desperate to have Noah inside me.

He turned me so that my back was to the stairs. Then, he wrapped his arms around me and lowered me so that I sat on one of the steps, my legs instinctively coming up around his hips, urging him closer. God, between my legs practically
ached
for him.

So when he slid into me, I almost exploded right then and there. I wrapped my legs around him, and leaned back against the hard edge of the stairs behind me. I braced my elbows beside me, lifting my hips to better accommodate him.

“Noah,” I rasped, feeling the ache swirling and tightening inside me. “Oh,
God
. Noah!”

He claimed my mouth with his own, swallowing my moans and adding his own. The stairs creaked beneath us. I was going to have bruises along my back from the steps and I didn’t care.

I pulled my mouth away. “Please,” I pleaded. I never used to talk during sex. Never used to make demands or take initiative. Noah changed all that.

He shuddered, and I felt the humid skin of his forehead press against mine. “Christ, you’re tight.” He thrust again. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Moaning, I arched as much as I could against him. I
just wanted him to keep talking. And he did. We came together so swiftly and powerfully I didn’t even notice that I’d actually slid up a couple of steps. When we did notice, we both laughed so hard tears sprang to our eyes.

Our laughter eased the tension of the moment, but there was no hiding from the smell of sex that surrounded us or the memory of how I’d talked, or the realization that it had been some of the best sex we’d ever had—and we had amazing sex. I’d never been like that before. Only with Noah.

And now, I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt for a very long time, if ever.

We half sat, half lay on the stairs as he ran his fingers through my hair, combing it. He kissed me again, so sweetly I could have cried. Then we gathered up our clothes and headed upstairs. We shared a bath and he rubbed my shoulders until I felt as limp as a noodle. Then he dried me off and carried me to the bed, where he proceeded to do all kinds of naughty things to me, until I couldn’t even think of stress, let alone experience it.

And then we ate! There’s nothing quite like Chinese food after sex. We sat on the couch in sweats with containers on the coffee table and loaded plates in our hands as we watched
Shrek II
on TV. We had
a couple of beers, stayed up late, and fell into bed sometime around three. Cuddling led to more sex and by the time sleep claimed me I was too tired and too damned relaxed to do anything but fall into the abyss. For the first time in a while I actually liked my life. In fact, I loved it. I felt like everything just might be okay.

And then we woke up late Saturday morning and learned that there had been another rape.