Demon's Cradle (Devany Miller Book 3) (3 page)

My heart sank. I knew what they were going to say before they said it. ‘Don’t come into our Dreaming Place anymore. Leave. Kroshtuka is dead and you killed him.’ “I’m so sorry,” I said, wanting to get the castigation over with quickly and get on with the sorrow. “Kroshtuka?” I hoped to god he wasn’t dead.

Lizzie stepped forward, catching my hands with her soft, wrinkled ones. “He has not woken. Something has blocked his return to the Real.” She squeezed my hand. “It’s not your fault. Though leading with an apology is a good strategy for most situations.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink. “We need to know what happened while you were in the Dream with him. It may be our only hope to get him back.”

“How did she get here? We didn’t give her an
emiliometer
,” groused another elder. His bushy white brows were pulled tight together so that it looked like there was a fluffy white caterpillar marching across his forehead.

Lizzie rolled her eyes at me then turned. “I gave her one.”

The cavern erupted in noise from their raised voices, all protesting Lizzie’s breach of policy and her blatant disregard for their sacred places. She weathered it with aplomb then held up her hands and said, “It’s a good thing I gave her one, isn’t it? My Dreams told me she would be the one to save Kroshtuka.”

Their complaints subsided, though Caterpillar Eyebrows muttered under his breath. “How can she help Kroshtuka? She isn’t one of us.”

“I think that’s why she can help. She isn’t tied to the Dreams but she can experience them. We need new eyes on this. Someone who isn’t biased by all our bull poo.”

“You Dreamed she could help us?”

Lizzie nodded, her lined face calm. I had the strongest feeling she was lying but couldn’t put my finger on why.

“If you Dreamed it,” said one.

“Dream Mother,” said another.

Soon they were all bowing and talking—calmly this time—and I thought I might actually get out of the cave without getting mauled by a bunch of senior citizens. “Can I see Kroshtuka?” I asked once their musings had died down.

It was Lizzie who answered. “Of course, my dear. But first we need to talk about how we can help him and what you can do to help us.”

I nibbled on a cuticle, worried about the time ticking away back on Earth. “I hate to be a pain in the ass, but I can’t stay long. I could come back for a while later, but I only have a few minutes now.”

Lizzie nodded. “We’ll talk as we go to your mate.”

I felt heat creep into my neck. “He’s not, I mean. I’m not—” Mate was such a graphic word, even though I knew they didn’t think of it in terms of only sex.

“Kroshtuka’s heart is yours,” she said, her voice warm and reassuring.

The reassurance didn’t work. Kroshtuka couldn’t be in love with me. We’d known each other for what, three months? Four? “We’re both a little infatuated,” I conceded, too uncomfortable with declaring myself in a relationship without Kroshtuka there to confirm it.

“Dreams never lie,” she said in that airy way of hers. She led me on a winding path deeper into the caves, the other elders staying behind. “Now tell me, what happened?”

I had no idea. I explained what I’d seen and experienced, giving myself the heebie jeebies all over again when I remembered the voice that had intruded on our beautiful day. A nasty thought occurred to me. “Do you think a Skriven could get into the Dream?” I still hadn’t heard anything more from Amara, an Originator who wanted me dead. I didn’t know why she hated me, though the Skriven meddled when they were bored. Surely I’d pushed her far beyond boredom when our last confrontation ended with her losing her arms, though technically Ellison had been the one to slice them off, not me.

“A world-walker? No. Dreams are for the living. World-walkers don’t dwell in the Real or Dreams. They are outside of both realms.” She grasped my arm when we came to a rather steep step. Once she was balanced on the path she let go of my arm and we continued.

I wasn’t sure I was relieved. If it had been Amara or another Skriven, I would know what I was dealing with. I didn’t like the idea of yet another bad guy entering into the mix. “Any theories?” We edged around a fat stalactite, wet and coarse and yellowed with age.

“One. I can’t imagine it’s true but I’m not sure what else to think” She touched my arm. When I stopped, she gestured to a dark corner, lit only by a curved wall glowing in the darkness. Kroshtuka lay submerged in a shallow pool of water that sparkled with lights. “We have him here to keep his body safe while his mind is Dreaming. It’s where we go to have our big Dreams, the long visions that keep us here for most of a Moon’s time.”

I knelt by Kroshtuka who was naked in the pool. Even though there wasn’t any wind, the water rippled. “Can I touch him?”

“Of course. Perhaps it will help anchor him.”

I took his hand from the water and squeezed it in my own. It was warm, solid, the finger pads calloused. “Come back. I’m here and I’m safe. Come back so I can talk to you in the Real.”

He didn’t move, didn’t respond. Disappointment flooded me and I descended into my control room to see if I could find a solution to my problem there. Concentrating on Kroshtuka, I let my mind wander around the room, trying to figure out what contraption—whether lever, button, switch, or scope—might work to bring him back.

I noticed a black slime coating an instrument jutting from the corner. I smelled it first, a wet, rotten smell that wrinkled my nose. It covered what looked like the giant golden reel of a shark fisherman. The moment I saw it, I knew that was what I could use to bring Kroshtuka back. Except, I didn’t want to touch the slime. It was bad and it wasn’t supposed to be here.

‘Neutria?’

Corruption.

Yeah, okay. Thanks, Captain Obvious. ‘How do I get rid of it?’

She shuddered. A gigantic assassin spider shuddered. Great.

I opened my eyes and glanced around at Lizzie. “Whatever it is, it’s bad. And it’s going to take something more than me wishing him home to get him back.” The black stuff worried me. Was it inside me? Only in my imagination? How did something like that get there, something so alien to my own mind?

“It was worth a try.” Lizzie clasped her hands in front of her. “We will work on a solution from the Dreaming Place. Do what you can to search for an answer.” She studied me. “If you go looking for him in the Dreamscape, be careful. I don’t want to lose you there, too.”

***

I walked her back to the main cavern and hooked away, disturbed to the very core of my being. I gathered lodestones though my mind wasn’t on the task at hand. My focus wasn’t there, either, and I ended up tossed on my ass when I lost my grip on the bar the first time.

Cursing, rubbing my sore backside, I dropped to the floor in my basement on my second try. The living space was empty and bright sunshine shone through the basement window. Crap. I hoped I hadn’t missed the kids. I hooked to Danni’s house and gave Zech the lodestones. His eyes bugged when he saw them. “They’re so big. You did this in one trip?”

I nodded, unwilling to tell him about landing on my ass. “If you need more I’ll get them.”

He was hefting one in his palm, already imagining how he was going to use it. “I’ll be sure to ask if I need more. This, though, will give me more than enough power to help her. Thank you.”

“What will you do if he shows up?”

Zech studied the stone in his hand, not looking up at me. “I will place stones outside to warn us when a stranger enters the apartment building and I’ll have stones around the apartment to act as magical wards to keep everyone but Danni, you, or me out. Anyone else will receive a shock of electricity that should knock them cold. We’ll call the police if the stones are activated.”

“And what if he gets in anyway?”

His eyes locked onto mine. “He won’t.”

“But what if he does,” I insisted. “Plan for every contingency, Zech. You don’t want to make any mistakes.”

He considered for a moment. “If he gets in, I’ll kill him.”

“Can you?”

“For Danni? Yes. I could kill for her.”

I hoped, for his sake and hers, that it would never come down to making that choice.

***

I left him to his planning and hooked home, then took the stairs two at a time to find the kids in the kitchen eating breakfast. Arsinua doled out pink pancakes to the kids and I felt a pang. Those were a family tradition and this time I wasn’t a part of making them. After Travis’ accusations, it felt like a kick in the stomach.

“Good morning, guys,” I said.

Bethy and Liam looked up from their plates. “Morning.”

“Hey, Mom.”

I kissed them both and thanked Arsinua when she pushed a plate into my hands.

“I was telling your children you were downstairs working on the furnace,” she said.

“Oh, yeah.” As if I had any clue how to work on the furnace. And why did she feel it necessary to lie for me to my kids?

“Have to start calling you Handy Manny, Mom,” Bethy said. She forked a big wad of pancake in her mouth and grinned around the pink stuff.

“Gross. Chew with your mouth closed.” I tapped her on the chin then settled down to eat with them. “How many days until school is out?”

“Fifty-four school days,” Liam said.

“Too long.” My daughter jabbed her fork into one of Liam’s pancakes and had it in her mouth before he could protest.

He jerked his plate away. “Knock it off, loser.”

“Liam, come on. Don’t call Bethany a loser.” I speared a bite of my own food and held it out. “Here. Take some of mine.”

“No. I don’t want yours. I want her to say sorry.”

Something in his tone made me take a closer look. His eyebrows were drawn tight on his forehead and the skin around his mouth was taut. “Bethy,” I said.

“Sorry. Whiner.”

“Knock off the name calling or I’m going to start charging you a dollar every time you do it.” They both looked at me with sullen expressions. I wasn’t sure if having them both angry at me was progress. “I love you both.” I kissed them on their heads and then dashed upstairs to get ready for work. By the time I was done, they were already walking to the bus stop, Liam trailing Bethy, both with their heads down, staring at their phones.

“Thanks for getting them breakfast.”

Arsinua nodded, putting the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my brother I’m a demon.”

She fumbled the cup she was holding and almost dropped it. “He wanted to know more about what was going on.”

“And you told him your side of things.”

She plunked the cup onto the tray and shot me a glare. “It’s the only side of things I have to share. You don’t see me asking you not to tell your duallie things about me, do you?”

“His name is Kroshtuka, not duallie. I’m not asking you to stop talking to him. I’m asking you not to turn him against me.”

“Devany, I’m telling him what I see. If that turns him against you, then perhaps there’s something wrong with what’s going on.” She slid the spatula around the pancake pan and dumped crumbs into the trash. Her movements were short and sharp. She was angry. Well good. I was angry too.

“I’m going to be late for work, but Arsinua, if you don’t like what’s going on, maybe you need to go.”

Her face paled but she didn’t look at me and didn’t answer.

***

I drove to work on autopilot, trying to figure out how to fix things with my brother, or at least explain things in a way that would help him understand what was going on—from my point of view. Perhaps I could call Ann and ask her to talk to him, but figured that would only make things worse. Travis thought Ann was a kook; having her on my side in this argument would only hurt me. Maybe it would be better if Travis and Arsinua got their own place

The parking lot was full and when I spotted our executive director’s car I groaned. I’d forgotten about the staff meeting. Kristina, our new receptionist, made a face when I walked in. “Meeting in support group room. ASAP.”

“Thanks.” I made a quick detour to my office space to stow my purse and coat, glad that it was Friday and I had a whole week’s worth of vacation starting officially at five o’clock today. I’d thought about canceling it after Tom was murdered—we had planned to take an adults-only trip together, leaving the kids with Tom’s parents—but I’d forgotten until the reminder came up on my work calendar. All I had to do now was survive this meeting …

The support group room was packed with both staff from our facility and our sister program, the rape crisis center from across town. I squeezed in beside Naomi Walters, whispering a greeting. She and I had trained together years ago. She had chosen to work with rape victims and I with domestic violence victims.

“We need to make plans to go out, girl,” she whispered back. She tapped her phone with one long nail and I grinned.

“I’ll call. Life’s been busy.”

She one-arm hugged me. She’d shown up for Tom’s funeral, though with all the mess I’d been going through with Tom’s death plus the troubles of Midia spilling out onto my plate, I hadn’t really talked to her. I made a decision to call her that weekend. No matter what.