Dark Side of Dawn: The Nightmare Chronicles (8 page)

Noah and I decided to get out of the city.

There was a craft show going on in White Plains, so after checking in on Amanda (her mother was with her), we jumped in Noah’s car and headed for the I–87. Traffic was heavy, but moving steadily.

“Did Amanda seem upset?” I asked, watching the large white van ahead of us.

“Angry,” Noah replied. His voice was tight. Amanda wasn’t the only one reacting to the news of another attack.

I only nodded. I didn’t have to say that I hoped the police caught the guy soon. And I knew that both of us were wishing there was something we could do—Noah for personal reasons and me because, as someone who was half immortal, I was feeling pretty damn useless.

The black cloud that the morning’s news account of the attack had brought couldn’t last forever, and by the time we reached White Plains, our collective mood had lightened considerably, although neither of us could entirely shake the gloom.

If I had to put it to words I’d say that it was a feeling of defeat—that this guy would get away with what he did, and that Amanda would never have her justice. That she would go through life knowing “he” was still out there.

Did I mention feeling useless? Sigh.

It only took a few steps inside the door to start the distraction. Tables and booths went on as far as the eye could see, each displaying more food, art, clothing, and jewelry than a girl with my weak willpower should have to be tempted by.

Noah and I bought butterscotch scones and ate them as we walked around. I couldn’t help but buy a turquoise and silver jewelry set. The large stones were polished to a rich shine and set in handcrafted bezels of bright silver. It was definitely worth the money. Besides, I put in on my Visa. I’d worry about paying for it later.

I bought a bright orange silk wrap-skirt as well. It would be perfect for wearing around the apartment or next summer. Noah pointed out a dress that he thought would look good on me, but it was too rich for my wallet, even with my good friend Visa. What did the foolish man do? Bought it himself, of course.

“That’s a lot of money to spend on someone you’ve been dating for, like, a month,” I told him, and I meant it.

His lips curved at one corner as we left the booth, dress bagged and in his hand. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around for a while.”

I grinned like an idiot—not hard to imagine, is it? “Okay.”

He took my hand and we walked some more. We should have brought a shopping cart. Noah bought homemade jams and sauces, loose tea, and a Danish pastry ring that I knew wouldn’t survive the drive home. He also bought a metal wall sculpture, a shirt, and a glass spider that he caught me admiring.

“The weaver of dreams, right?” He made the comment with a smile as he slipped the wrapped and boxed palm-sized arachnid into one of my bags.

“I’m impressed.” And I was. “The mother of all, Ama, wove the universe and created the Dreaming.”

We walked around for a few more minutes before Noah spotted a booth of swords that he wanted to look at. My attention was grabbed by a display of porcelain dolls, so I told him I’d meet him in a bit.

The dolls were amazing. All shapes, sizes, and colors. There were Nubian princesses and geishas, Native beauties with shining braids, and fairylike delicate creatures with gossamer wings. The attention to detail
was exquisite. Each face was different, with a distinct personality. And the hair was soft, silky, and obviously real. The doll maker had styled each head with loving obsession, making each doll look as though she might come to life at any moment.

One doll in particular caught my attention. Clad in a pale pink gown encrusted with Swarovski crystals, she looked like a giant Barbie—only more perfect. She was slender, but curvy with a golden complexion and large eyes with thick lashes. Her hair was long and blond, shimmering under the lights.

Huh. She looked familiar…Amanda. She looked like Amanda. Maybe it was because I had been thinking of her, but the resemblance was uncanny. Even the hair was the right shade.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

I looked up at the man who had spoken. The smile I’d been prepared to give him froze to my lips as the world seemed to tilt and distort beneath me.

Oh. Fuck.

It was him. I’d know his face anywhere. He looked so calm and serene. So fucking friendly—as though he wasn’t a monster underneath that perfectly ordinary veneer.

Were all of these dolls facsimiles of his victims?

“Yes,” I croaked hoarsely. “She’s beautiful. Did you make all of these?” God, I couldn’t believe my voice
actually sounded relatively normal when inside I was shaking. I was scared and mad and so very tempted to whisper a waking nightmare for him alone. I had done it before—to a poor girl in a coffee shop. I’d made her think there were spiders on her.

Spiders were too good for this guy.

He smiled at me. “Yes. Every one by hand.”

I shuddered, but kept the smile on my face. “How much for this one?” I pointed at the doll of Amanda.

His face changed when he looked at the doll. His expression became almost loving. I’d never been so disturbed by another human in my entire life as I was at that moment. “I’m sorry, but she’s for display only.”

“Oh,” I tried to sound disappointed rather than disgusted. “Is she part of your private collection?”

He nodded, light brown hair catching a slight green tint under the fluorescent lights. “She’s one of my special girls, yes.”

My stomach rolled. “That’s too bad.” What would I have done with it if he had sold it to me? It wasn’t like I could give it to Amanda.

My gaze jumped to Noah just a few booths away. He was busy talking to the guy there as he held a samurai sword in his hands. Here I was, with Amanda’s rapist in front of me. I should tell Noah. We could call the police.

And then what? Tell them that I had saw the guy in
Amanda’s dream? We had no proof. Nothing except that I knew without a doubt that this was him.

For that reason, I couldn’t tell Noah. I wanted to kill this guy, what would Noah want to do to him? That sword would get tested real quick. Noah would be up on assault charges at best, and we’d still have no proof that this guy was the rapist.

No, I couldn’t tell Noah. Not yet. I’d rather risk his being angry at me than risk him doing something he’d regret.

“You know,” he was saying, eyeing me like Noah did sometimes when he was in artist mode. Except, this made me feel uneasy rather than desirable. “You have gorgeous hair. If you ever decide to cut it, I’d be interested in buying the ends.”

He wanted to buy my hair? Gross.

And then, it was like a puzzle piece literally snapping into place.
Hair
. I looked at the Amanda doll again. The hair wasn’t just the same shade as Amanda’s, it was Amanda’s!

I could just puke I felt so sick. No wonder he wouldn’t sell it. This doll was one of his trophies. He not only made dolls of his victims, but he used their hair as well.

I really hoped there was a hell.

My gaze went to a little plastic card holder on the table. “Mind if I take a card? In case I do get a haircut.”

“Of course not,” the son of a bitch said with an easy, aw-shucks grin. “I do custom work as well.”

So I noticed.

Mother
, a voice whispered in my head. It was that same voice I’d used to bring about the spiders at Starbucks. I wondered why his mother would be the stuff of nightmares? Or more to the point, the kind of stuff a Nightmare could use against him. Exploiting fear was more of a Night Terror thing, but it was yet another talent I seemed to have that no one could explain.

“Thanks.” I forced another smile and took one his cards. Then I took two more just in case I lost that one. Phillip Durdan. He had a shop in Brooklyn. Now the police would know where to find him.

And now
I
knew how to find him too. I might not be able to turn his sorry ass over to the cops, but I could do something almost as good. Now that I had met him I could go into his dreams.

Do no harm, I reminded myself as I walked away, his card tucked in a zippered compartment in my purse. I was still shaky, but that gave way to sheer determination as I approached Noah.

I wasn’t going to harm Phillip Durdan.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t make him pay.

Noah dropped me off at my place. He was going to visit with Amanda and make sure she had dinner before his
younger sister Mia arrived to stay the night. He asked me if I wanted to come with him. I didn’t.

I couldn’t face Amanda after meeting her rapist. Couldn’t sit there and resent the fact that she had my boyfriend wrapped around her finger when I could see what she had suffered—when I knew what she had suffered.

I didn’t want to be jealous of her, but I was. And I’d rather saw off my own eyelids than watch Noah fuss over her when his reaction to my possible unmaking had seemed so…less knightly. Not that I wanted him to fuss over me.

Yes, I’m an idiot. Despite Noah telling me I shouldn’t be jealous. Despite him saying that I was who he wanted to be with. See, the thing was that even though I knew he believed these things, I also knew that he felt guilty for wanting to hit Amanda for her affair. Guilt, coupled with his need to protect, was a powerful motivator.

And I’ll admit that there was a part of me who figured he’d only be with a freak like me for so long before he wanted a “normal” girl again.

Yep, just one towering pile of pathetic insecurity—that’s me.

Normally in this situation I’d put on some sweats, get a huge bowl of cereal—I’m talking a Jethro bowl—and watch
Sense and Sensibility
, reciting all the best lines at the right moments while Fudge snored on my lap.
Instead, I decided to do my waistline and Jane Austen a favor and accept that invitation my father had “issued” the other day in my office bathroom.

I was going to visit Hadria. I had to anyway, so now was as good a time as any, and maybe visiting with her would give me a better idea of the trouble I was in—and what I could do to set things right. Plus, she was old, and she could no doubt teach me a lot.

I needed to learn about the Dreaming if I was ever going to be considered part of it—a good part. Imagine people actually thinking I was a villain! I’m nowhere near sophisticated enough to play the villain. Now, the Warden on the other hand…

Nope, wasn’t going to think of her. Not now when I was already feeling so down on myself. If my lower lip dropped anymore I’d be able to wear it as a balaclava, and while I might often indulge in self-pity, I wasn’t about to let it rule my life. I had choices to make and a fight to win.

I went into my bedroom, so inviting with its Mid-eastern orange walls and purple bedding. I flopped on top of the bedspread and cradled a pillow beneath my cheek. I felt so tired inside I knew it wouldn’t be hard to fall asleep. While my body recharged in this world, I’d recharge my mind and spirit in the Dreaming.

Normally when I slipped into the Dreaming, I could “put” myself where I wanted to go—or within a reason
able distance. I had yet to really play with this ability, but if memory served, I could teleport within the Dreaming, just like Morpheus. It made for easy transportation, but I wasn’t sure just how to do it. I still felt more comfortable making the motions of travel, or bending the world to my needs—which was way more work. All I could think of was the scene in
Galaxy Quest
when the creature came through the transporter inside out.

Anyway, it seemed that the Temple of Ama was not a place I could just let myself into, for whatever reasons. I ended up entering the Dreaming just outside the gates to the palace. The ivory and horn gates gleamed in the moonlight. Myth said that true dreams passed through the gate of horn and false dreams through the gate of ivory. I don’t know if that’s true, but both gates opened for me whenever I approached.

Tonight, however, there was a carriage waiting outside those gates.

Or at least, I thought it was a carriage. It was a large spherical vehicle covered in what looked like smooth purple, silver, and green scales, pulled by two massive pewter-colored griffins with ebony-tipped wings. They were harnessed to the carriage by delicate silver chains that didn’t look hardy enough for the job.

The door to the carriage, as circular as the vehicle itself, opened and two steps lowered to the ground. The interior glowed with soft light from opalescent sconces,
revealing pale gray walls and lush violet padded seats. If I hadn’t suspected before this, I’d know that Hadria had sent this for me because of its sheer awesomeness.

Damn, she was good if she sensed my presence and sent a ride for me this fast.

I only hesitated a moment—a little part of me wasn’t too keen on trusting Hadria totally. Who could blame me? The people in this world hadn’t exactly done anything to inspire or claim my trust. But I didn’t really see that I had a choice. Hadria’s opinion of me would influence the Council, and I could use the help.

I climbed into the shiny scaled orb and settled on the padded seat. It was just as comfortable as it looked. The griffins waited until the door clicked shut and the interior lights dimmed before setting off.

I leaned back against the cushions, looking out the porthole windows at the distant lights of the palace. The griffins began to pick up speed, and soon they raced along the smooth rock road. Then, there was a jolt, and I was pinned to the back wall as the carriage lifted off the ground. The griffins were taking flight.

Oh. My.
God.

I was in the air, in a big shiny ball with nothing keeping it attached to the mounts but little tiny chains. I should have been terrified, and for a minute I was—until I caught a glimpse of the view out the window to my right.

Below me, the palace and its surroundings looked like something from Disney World—so pretty and twinkling in a sea of dark. And then, fanning out from that central area, was the rest of the kingdom. I could see the lights of distant duchies—such as those belonging to my uncles—and little hamlets and towns. I had never seen it like this, and I was struck by how gorgeous it was. I was in awe—and I have to admit, my heart swelled a little at the sight.