Before I Wake (15 page)

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the damp tentacles of mist—or at least I hoped it was mist—wrapping around me. I opened my mind, pictured where I wanted to be and concentrated. And concentrated some more.

I felt the change as it happened—just as cold fingers curled around mine, trying to tug me into the fog, nails scraping my palm. I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the great hall of Morpheus’s castle.

My hand was bleeding.

“Shit!” I cupped my other hand under the injured one to catch the drips.

The mist never had cared that I was Dreamkin. Or that I was human. It couldn’t define me as one or the other, and therefore I was an anomaly. I was treated as such.

Suddenly, warm hands took mine and my bleeding palm was placed in a bowl of fragrant warm water that made the wound sting.

It was Morpheus, looking more like a construction worker than the God of Dreams in a white T and jeans.

“You’re lucky,” my father told me in his low voice as he lifted my hand from the water and wrapped it in a soft towel. “An inch or two higher and it might have severed something.”

“Yeah, I feel lucky.” I would have rolled my eyes if they hadn’t been watering from the ointment he was putting on the wound.

“What is that stuff?”

He only smiled as he worked his own mojo. “It will help speed your body’s own healing abilities. An infection is not something you want.” He had me there. God only knew what kind of cooties the mist had.

When he was done, my hand was bandaged and hardly hurt at all, and I had a strange lump in my throat. How girly is that? My estranged father takes five minutes to fix my booboo, and I’m all watery over it.

“Thank you,” I told him.

He smiled some, but there was tension around his extraordinarily blue eyes. “I could have healed it myself, but I want you to remember that you need to be careful, Dawn. Not only is the mist a danger, but there are those in The Dreaming who would do you harm if they could.”

Oh great. After forcing me to return to this world, he tells me I could be in danger here. “Like who?” Karatos, for one. He had said something about “all of us” the last time I saw him. I had thought he meant the Dreamkin in general, but maybe he meant something else entirely.

Morpheus straightened his broad shoulders. He was incredibly well built, my father. Too bad I hadn’t inherited those genes.

“There are those who believe your ability to exist in both words is a portent of evil.”

I stared at him. “I didn’t ask to be born a freak.”

He seemed offended by the word. “You’re a miracle. I’ve never believed anything else. Dawn, you can do what even I can’t.”

Being a god, Morpheus could spend more time in the “real” world than all other Dreamkin, but he couldn’t exist there, not like I could. And I was the only human who could manipulate the rules of The Dreaming. Lucid dreamers like Noah could bend the world to their advantage, but they still had to abide by the rules. I didn’t.

Now that I thought about it, it occurred to me that having that ability was kind of cool.

“The Dreamkin who don’t think I should exist, should I be afraid of them?” I needed to know what I was up against and be prepared. I was in no condition to fight any battles in this Realm. I knew what I had been able to do as a kid, but I should be more powerful now. Unfortunately, I was so rusty I wouldn’t be able to protect myself much better than Noah or another strong dreamer could protect themselves.

I needed to be better than that the next time Karatos tried climbing into bed with me.

My father waved his hand, and the water and dressing he’d used on my hand disappeared, along with the table they had sat on.

“There are very few who would risk my wrath by harming their princess. As uncertain of your abilities as they are, they would think twice before engaging you in battle.”

Only twice? Maybe they could think a little longer. And Morpheus hadn’t given me a straight answer. I was immortal in this world, but that only applied to a natural death. I could still be killed.

“But enough of that. You came here to learn.” This time there was no wave, no shift in posture as my father dissolved and rebuilt the environment around us. The hall disappeared, replaced by a massive English-style library, complete with wingback chairs and a massive fireplace.

I noticed there were only two chairs. Two cups of coffee on the table. “Mom isn’t joining us?” I tried to sound like I didn’t care, but I thought after all these years she’d be a bit more eager to see me. I should have known better.

Morpheus looked away. “She thought you might be more comfortable without her around at first.”

The woman knew me better than I thought. “She was right.” I walked over to a thickly padded chair and plopped myself into it.

The leather was warm rather than cold, and it molded around my butt like a lecherous hand. Nice.

“Go easy on her, Dawn.”

I stared at him—no, I glared at him—as he took the chair across the table from me. “She left her husband and her children. She abandoned her grandchildren just so she could be with you. She left me. So you’ll excuse me for being as hard as I frigging well want.”

He didn’t even blink. “She didn’t leave you. You’ve always known where to find her.”

“Don’t play me as the favorite.” My temper was rising. “If I hadn’t been your kid, she would have turned her back on me, too.”

“Is it so wrong for her to want a little happiness?”

I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth were going to splinter. “Yes.”

Morpheus studied me for a moment, his face unreadable. Frankly, I didn’t care what he saw there. I was totally justified in feeling the way I did, and he wasn’t going to change that. Apparently, he knew better than to try.

“Let’s make the most of your time here,” he said, ever the diplomat. “I’ve spoken to Icelus, and he assures me he will see Karatos unmade immediately.”

That took a lot of the anger out of me. “Thank you.”

Those two little words put a pleased smile on his rugged face. “I thought we might talk for a bit, discuss what you and I expect from each other.”

I reached for the cup of coffee in front of me. Parental expectations. Fabulous. “I do have a few questions I’d like to ask.”

“Such as?”

“Is it possible that Karatos is killing people in their sleep?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Would there be anything suspicious about the deaths?”

“No. They would appear to have died inexplicably in their sleep. In some cases Terror victims have suffered strokes or heart attacks.”

So Karatos could be responsible for these SUNDS deaths. Bastard. “What would Karatos want with a lucid dreamer?”

Morpheus’s tanned brow creased. “Energy, I suppose. A Terror could siphon a lot of power off a talented dreamer.”

Just what I had suspected. Karatos was using Noah as his personal recharger. Killing had to take a lot of energy, and Noah topped the asshole back up.

“Why did Antwoine Jones try to kill you?”

He was so not expecting that question. All the color ran from his face, and for a second he looked as though I had smacked him.

Then all the color rushed back into his cheeks—only more so. The mere mention of the old man obviously pushed some buttons with my father.

“How do you know him?”

I raised a brow. “You mean Antwoine?” At his nod I rolled my eyes. He wouldn’t even say an old man’s name! “I met him in a drugstore. He was the one who gave me Karatos’s name. Why did you take away his ability to dream?”

Now he just looked morally offended. “I didn’t! People die without their dreams. No, I simply gave him his own little world so that he would stay the hell out of mine.”

I’d never heard him swear before. “What did he do?”

“He broke the rules.”

“Which ones?”

His jaw tightened as he gave me a frustrated look. “Mine.”

“Oh, come on.” I took a drink of my coffee. It was delicious. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

The look on his face was a mix of murderous and pained. “He had a relationship with a succubus.”

I made a face. “So? Isn’t that what succubi do?” They were little more than oversexed pinups that drew power from sexing men up in their dreams.

“Not exclusively with one man.”

Ahh. I got it. “And having ‘exclusive’ relationships with humans is taboo?”

He knew where I was going with this. I knew because his expression grew more pained. “Yes.”

“Guess that rule doesn’t apply to you, does it?” Gloat much? Why yes I will, thank you.

“That’s different. You changed everything.”

“Don’t blame me. I was just the outcome.”

He glared at me. I mean really glared. But I wasn’t the least bit afraid. He was my father, and I knew that as mad as he could get, he would never do anything to hurt me. I might not like him, but I trusted him. Weird, huh?

“So Antwoine tried to kill you when you made him and his succubus break it off?”

He was clenching his teeth. Must be where I got it. “Yes. Can we move on to another topic now?”

I smiled at him, enjoying the brief pleasure of having discombobulated him. “Sure. What would you like to talk about? Your expectations of me?” Just as I finished speaking, there was a knock on the library door. I hadn’t even noticed there was a door.

Morpheus smiled at me. It was a smooth, smug smile that instantly made me rethink trusting him. “Enter.”

The door opened, and in walked one of the most impressive specimens of manly loveliness I had ever seen. He was tall with broad shoulders (I’m a sucker for shoulders), short, thick, dark hair, and eyes the color of ice. He had cheekbones to die for and a chiseled jaw. Best of all, he seemed totally unaware of his appeal. He definitely wasn’t an incubus. From what I could remember, those guys were drag-queen vain.

“You summoned me, my lord?” his loveliness asked, addressing my father.

Morpheus gestured for him to come in. “Yes. I wanted you to meet my daughter, Dawn.”

And then the lovely man turned on me with a look that I imagined a hungry lion might give a gazelle.

“Dawn.” He said my name like it was synonymous with “eww.”

I looked at my father. What the hell?

Morpheus’s smile faded and I felt the fist of dread slam into my stomach. “Dawn, this is Verek, a sheriff of the Nightmare Guild.”

“Oh?” One of the people who would do me harm? I wondered.

“He’s going to be overseeing your training.”

“No.” I glanced at the gorgeous Nightmare who was watching me with a predatory gaze. “No offense, but I am not putting my ass in your hands.”

“No offense taken,” he replied in a silky voice.

My father seemed more amused by my refusal than anything else. “Verek is descended from your aunt Eos, Dawn. You were named after her, remember?”

I wasn’t so lax in my family history that I didn’t know who Eos, Goddess of the Dawn was. “I remember. Somehow I don’t think the family connection is going to keep Leonidas here from slapping me silly.” He did have sort of a 300 thing going on—without the leather Speedo.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Morpheus claimed with more certainty than I felt. “But the Guild wants to know what you are capable of, and as a Nightmare, you are obligated to demonstrate your abilities.”

There was something in his tone that made me suddenly very still. It sounded to me like he wanted me to impress Verek, but not overly so. Show him what he needed to see, not necessarily all I could do. Interesting. What kind of things did my father think I could do that would make the Nightmare nervous?

And what did it matter?

“What you mean to all of us,” Karatos had said. Things were becoming a little bit clearer despite my lack of understanding.

“A Terror has become overzealous and attacked a dreamer,” Verek said to me. “What do you do?”

It took me a second or two to realize that this was a test and not an actual issue. Given my current situation, I thought my confusion valid. I had no idea what the answer was, but I went with what my gut said, “Put myself between them. Get the Terror away from the dreamer and the dreamer to safety.”

The Nightmare nodded. “How would you do that?”

People aren’t supposed to remember Nightmares in their natural state. If you’ve ever had a bad dream in which you were in danger or hurt that suddenly faded into something else, that was the doing of a Nightmare. And anytime someone swooped to your rescue, that was most likely a Nightmare, too, whether or not they wore a familiar face.

“In a way that causes the least fear and confusion for the dreamer,” I replied, as though I had always known.

Verek didn’t look impressed. “Correct.” Okay, so this guy was hoping I’d fail.

After a few more questions about nothing of consequence, and a demonstration of my rusty morphing skills, Verek made his next move.

“Hand-to-hand combat,” he said. “Can you fight?”

“Not real—hey!” I just managed to duck a large fist as it swung at my head. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Testing your agility, reflexes, and strength,” he replied with a smile as he swung again. I dodged that one as well, but I had no illusions of my agility. He was going easy on me right now, but that wasn’t going to last.

And my father wasn’t going to intervene on my behalf, not unless he had to—which meant only if I was in danger of actually being killed. He had to let the Nightmare test me.

The next time he came at me, I sidestepped and brought my knee up into his groin. It was a dirty move, and I was very proud of myself for having made it—also a little surprised. Where had this speed come from? How did I know exactly when to dodge, duck, and strike?

My satisfaction was short-lived. Verek grunted and sagged to his knees, but the Nightmare had to have balls of steel because he shook off the pain and grabbed me by the waist of my jeans. He knocked my feet out from under me with a sweep of one long leg and had me on my back on the floor in a second. Before I could catch the breath that had been knocked from me, he was over me, hand on my throat, leg pinning mine.

He grinned at me—big teeth that were sharp white against the tan of his face. “What now, Princess?” This guy was almost feral—alpha to the extreme.