Dreamscape (3 page)

His dark voice fills the room. “I—”

His hesitation trips me up, and I
almost turn around. Before I can move, though, he continues, “I have so much to
explain to you. I’m sorry for…what happened earlier. I haven’t been around
people in a while, and you surprised me.” He pauses, his hand still resting on
my arm, but only for a moment. “I can hardly believe I finally have you here.
In time, you will adjust, even come to love this place.”

I face him in a nanosecond. “Did
you really just say that to me? Hello, you seriously can’t be that wacko. I
mean, come on. You stole me in the middle of the night and brought me to your
lair like the freaking Phantom of the Opera then you set your living room on
fire, torch your dog, not to mention almost me, for what?

“Oh, and in case you’re wondering,
I’m not one of those girls who thought Christine should have ended up with the
Phantom, so you might as well let me go now. Save us both some trouble.”

He smiles, which makes me clench my
jaw again. With a tight flick of his head, he motions toward the hallway. “You
want to go?”

I jump to my feet, ignoring the
sting of his hand sliding down my arm. I’ve seen weird. I’ve even seen
freakish. But I’ve never seen something like him.

A weird sense of recognition wants
to take hold of me, but I’m not going to let it. “Where’s the front door?”

His thick brows hit his hairline.
“Even if I could tell you that, you have nowhere to go. Do you not wish to know
why I brought you here?”

How can he not know how to get out
of his own pad? “No.”

“No?”

I’m lying, but I’m scared. He knows
too much about me. How? I don’t want to acknowledge the shiver that travels
over my skin. I nod in his direction. “Exactly how long have you been stalking
me?”

His eyes come alive, yet he gives
me a casual shrug. “Quite some time, although stalking might not be the best
description.”

I send him a disgusted frown. If I
do figure out a way to ditch this place, will he find me again? “Well, you’re
not exactly offering me a better explanation. Don’t you know how creepy this
whole thing is?”

A slow smile covers his mouth.
“Creepy isn’t the worst thing to be.”

His world must totally suck.

I smack my lips together before I
lock eyes with him. “So—are you ever going to tell me why you brought me here?
I figure if you wanted to kill me I’d be dead.” I try not to let hope or fear
show in my eyes. Who knows just what is going to set off this freak?

In the amount of time it takes me
to process what he’s doing, he’s at my side. This sudden burst of speed sends
panic to my veins, but his calm voice stills my pulse.

He leans over, his lips a breath
from my ear. “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “If you can find a way out, I’ll
let you go.”

My heart stutters then speeds like
a racecar toward the finish line. There has to be a way out—he came and got me
for the love of bald eagles, and since he’s offering… “I’ll take that deal,” I
say, sending him a cocky glance I’m not feeling at all.

He smirks a challenge at me. “Go
ahead.”

I open the door and glide into the
hallway, puffing out my chest, getting my swagger on. Other than frying my arm,
he hasn’t made a move to hurt me, so oddly enough I’m almost comfortable around
him, like it’s okay to be myself. It’s just a matter of time before I discover
the hidden latch to my freedom. He doesn’t know how tenacious I am. He’s also
right behind me, and I’m hyper aware of his every move. My skin tingles from
his nearness. We’ve got something weird going on between us, but heck if I know
what it is.

I’m tempted to check his face to
see if I’m headed the right way, but I keep my back to him. Flickering tapers
set into curly candelabras drape the space in a caramel glow. Although
extremely cool, it’s not much light to go by, which, makes it twice as hard to
see where this hallway leads. The super strange part is there are no other
doors or even windows, just a dingy corridor that seems to stretch on forever.
I stop to tug every sconce, thinking one will give under the pressure and
unlock the door to my freedom. No such luck. I bristle at my captor’s dark
laugh but keep going.

After a few minutes of getting
nowhere, I sprint forward, running as fast as I can on the uneven surface. His
feet thud against the stone behind me. While my lungs ache so badly I’m worried
they might burst after only a few minutes, his breathing is even.

The hallway stretches forever in
front of me like an endless highway to Nowheresville. One thing’s for certain:
I’m getting nowhere, so I slam to a stop and bend over, sucking in wind.

This is the worst shape I’ve been
in. I got kind of lazy when Justine took me in five years ago. At first, after
she found me, I made life pretty difficult for her, thinking she was just going
to ditch me too. Wouldn’t you know it, the minute I thought I’d have her
forever is when she died. Being with her was the only time I’ve felt safe in my
whole life. I should have known it wouldn’t last.

Psycho dude inches closer to me,
and I snap up, turning to face him—the door is right behind us. It looks
different from this side, as if it is ancient. The wood is splintered and
pitted and the huge doorknob seems oddly out of place. There’s a slot big as a
wallet, maybe for a skeleton key, but I’ve never seen a keyhole that big. If I
didn’t know better, I’d say this is a different door entirely.

No way. There is no freaking way. I
blink a couple times just to make sure my eyes are working right. When the
effort yields the same result, I lower to my haunches to check the cobbled
floor. If this thing’s a conveyor belt, I’m a red banana.

Something is wrong with this place,
with this man. I swallow, fear trickling to my gut. With as much composure as I
can muster I say, “You’d better start giving me explanations, buddy. Why am I
here? What is this place? Who are you? I don’t even know your freaking name!”

Deep blue eyes flit toward the
door. When he looks up again, he holds out his hand.

I shake my head. I’m
not
touching him on purpose. He’s not far from me. He could snatch me up like he
did when he barged into my living room and grabbed me like I was some sort of
errant livestock, but he doesn’t.

His voice is barely audible.
“Come with me. If you’re ready now, I’ll explain everything.”

My heart pounds against my chest.
This is it. All I have to do is stay calm and she won’t know; she won’t figure
it out. If she opens the door first, she will have a choice to leave and, given
her history, she will. There is no way I am letting her go now, no matter what
the rules are. Even if she manages to see through my bluff, I’ll figure
something out to keep her with me. I motion for her to move ahead, but she
refuses like I want her to.

For her to be tied to me, this has
to be her decision—her mistake. I reach for the handle with controlled
movements, hoping I don’t give anything away. A smile spreads on my lips when I
face the door and block her access. The cool metal knob twists, and I push the
door away. With practiced movements, I lead her into my shrine.

My whole body sighs once she is
over the threshold. This girl might just have what it takes to break my curse.
She is determined enough, bright enough, lovely enough, so why does the
heaviness of fear still linger in my heart?

Like an unpracticed youth, I am not
sure how to start the conversation. After a while she grunts, so I dive in.
“You are of the blood.”

Her face pales, and I’m lost in her
confused eyes. “Blood?” she asks before she visibly gulps.

Maybe not the best thing to start
with. I offer her a smile, yet she flinches. Am I that frightening?
Disheartened, I drop my gaze and pace the room, attempting to make myself less
obtrusive. “Long ago…”

Despite the wildness in her eyes,
she chuckles before she speaks, and the sound startles me. I could stare at her
for hours, days, years, but we have work to do. “In a galaxy far, far away,”
she says, still smiling.

I like her smile. It brightens my
mood as well as a full moon on a cloudless night. That aside, I still don’t
know what she means. “To what are you referencing?”

Dark brows furrow, making me want
to smooth the lines on her forehead. Her mouth opens on a quick breath as if
she is going to tell me something important before her eyes harden. “Nothing.
Go on.”

“Have you ever heard of the
Oneiroi?”

She tries out the word.
“Oh-near-ee?” I nod. She considers this for a moment before she says, “Um, no.”

Explanations will be difficult. If
there was one thing I used to be able to count on, it was the passing on of
legend within a community. What has happened to her world? I take a deep breath
and hold it, attempting to solidify a plan. Best to start with something she
will understand. “Where do you think dreams come from?”

She sits on the couch, her
movements waiflike. Confusion narrows her eyes as she takes in her
surroundings. “Hey, how did you get another sofa so…” She makes a brief sweep
of the room as if to be certain, and her gaze settles on Baltek. Her hand
covers her mouth before she points at him. When she speaks, her voice cracks.
“Oh my gosh, that dog looks just like the one you fried earlier.”

It takes all my will not to laugh.
“I’ll get to that, but please, answer my question.”

Her head bobs in a decisive nod.
“Subconscious, right?”

I smirk at her surety. “Not quite.”

She gives me a belligerent stare
and cocks her head. “Next you’re gonna tell me they come from you.”

She
is
smart. “Actually,
they do.”

She scoffs and stands up. “Right.
So you think you’re the darkness
and
that you control dreams.”

Not wishing to confuse her further,
I keep my answer simple. No doubt clarification will have to be addressed
later. “Yes.”

“Whose dreams?”

Not the response I expected. I am
encouraged. “Very good question. I have limited access these days, and I need
your help.”

Her raucous laughter startles me,
while her open body language entices me to join her on the sofa. With regret in
my throat, I make myself stay where I am. “Good one. You want me to control
people’s dreams?”

“No.”

“No? But I thought you just said—”

This is the trouble with the young,
they do not listen. “What I said was I need your help.”

More scoffs before she says, “You
have a funny way of asking for help, buddy.”

She’s right. I may have gone
overboard with the drama, but her nearness has befuddled me. “Are you willing
to listen?”

Her eyes remain guarded. “Listen,
sure, but I’m not committing to anything, just yet.”

“Very well,” I relent. “I will try
to give you the shortest version I am able. I only ask that you not interrupt
me. Agreed?”

She fidgets in her seat, flicking
out a dainty hand as if she is swatting away a gnat. “Yeah, sure, get on with
it already.”

Her impatience astounds me, but I
continue as if it does not. One of these days, she will present her true self
to me, not this mask of indifference she wields like a sword. “You come from a
bloodline of gifted clairvoyants. Sibylline, to be precise. Your mind is
capable of reaching into the minds of others around you, which is especially
useful to me.” I get a raise of the brows, yet she stays silent. I am further
encouraged. “I should clarify one very important point for you. The Oneiroi do
not control dreams, we send them. Once released, they are for the dreamer to
control or reject.” When I take my usual chair opposite her, her eyes follow my
movements. “There are legends about us, but legends have faded in your world.
We used to be called upon for assistance when war or famine plagued the land;
however, in recent years humans hardly pay attention to their dreams.”

In the cutest gesture I have ever
seen, she holds up her hand.

“Yes?” I say.

“I think I’m following you here,
but why does it matter if people don’t remember their dreams?”

For a moment, my thoughts distract
me. Will she remember her dreams? When the time comes, will she remember me?
More importantly, will she remember what she promised me?

For someone so young, she pays
attention more than I’ve given her credit for. “Since your world was new and
the inhabitants simple, we focused on directing the leaders of nations. This is
one form of divine guidance. At first, we only gifted good dreams, but as time
went on it was clear warnings were also needed. You see, if left to their own
conscience, most mortals will choose the easiest path. It takes a brave soul to
stand up to tyranny or bigotry, yet it takes an equally brave soul to become a
tyrant or a bigot. It was only later that we delved into the minds of everyday
man.”

She raises her hand again. I smile.
“But what does this have to do with me?”