Before I Wake (24 page)

I stiffened. Those words were a little too familiar. Dry-mouthed, I eased back so that I could look Lola in the eye. “What did he look like?”

“He was gorgeous, but he had these freaky eyes—clear blue with a black ring.”

Karatos. I looked away before Lola could see the fear in my eyes.

Her voice was low, thready. “It was so real.”

I just bet it was, but I couldn’t tell her that. “You want to sleep with me?” I honestly couldn’t think of any other way to keep her safe. If that sonovabitch hurt my friend, I’d have his balls for breakfast.

Like a kid, she nodded. “Yeah.” Then she laughed. “I must seem like such a baby to you.”

I kissed her forehead. “You’re my roomie, and I think you’re great. I gotta brush my teeth. I’ll see you in my room.”

Lola bounded out of bed, and I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and washed my face. Then I made sure all the locks were secure on our door and padded into my room. My roommate was in my bed, blankets around her ears, already sound asleep.

And she was sleeping on my side of the bed. I probably would have chuckled if I hadn’t been so angry and afraid.

After changing into my boxers and tank, I crawled into bed and turned off the lamp. I lay in the darkness willing myself to sleep. I went into The Dreaming that way rather than by opening a portal. I couldn’t risk Lola’s waking up and seeing it. Worse, I couldn’t risk her following through it, not when I knew what was on the other side.

I set myself on the beach, on a rocky shelf high above the mist that swirled and whispered my name. There, I called out to Karatos, daring him to come and face me.

And then I waited.

“You called, Little Light?” Karatos drifted up from the depths of the mist as though the thin tendrils knitted themselves together to give It form. It didn’t look like a trick. Everything in this world was formed from the essence of the world itself, their molds created by my father.

But Karatos didn’t “feel” like something of this world. It was weird, but in this world, everything had a smell…no, a sense about it. And to my senses, Karatos was more like Lola than Itself. So much so that I almost had trouble hanging on to my hate. Almost.

Knowing that this bastard was hiding behind the essence It had stolen from my friend was enough to keep my rage stewing.

“I’m surprised you came,” I answered, my anger and fear mixing into a shaky cocktail in my stomach.

A sardonic smile curved Its lips. Karatos was so beautiful to look at, yet so disgusting. “I come just at the thought of you, but that Lola—mm mm.” It smacked Its lips. “I’m going to have to get me a piece of that.”

My stomach lurched, rippling upward until I thought I might throw up. I held it together and hid my reaction from Karatos. It would get off on knowing It could generate such a response.

“Lovely,” I replied as sarcastically as I could. “You have all the class and charm of a drunken frat boy.”

It pressed a hand to Its chest. “You wound me.” It was meant to be mocking, but I caught a thread of truth in the tone. The Terror glanced around us, at the rocky, barren ledge. “The least you could have done is conjure me up a place to sit.”

“You won’t be staying that long.”

It shook Itself in a mock shudder. “Planning on calling your daddy?”

In retrospect, I probably should have called Morpheus the moment Karatos arrived. I planned to remedy that immediately.

But the Terror knew what my silence meant, and before I could even think my father’s name, It backhanded me with enough force that my feet left the ground, and I landed several feet away. Pain shot through my face as I struggled into a sitting position, my arms trembling with adrenaline. Karatos stalked toward me like a wolf.

“Pathetic,” It sneered. “You don’t even know how to shake off the pain. You should be so much more of a challenge.”

It was right. I should be; the little training I’d had hardly gave me the ability to fight Karatos on an equal level. Only confidence and experience could do that, and I had too little of both. Too much time in the “real” world had dulled my ability to see my own potential in this one. What the hell had I been thinking calling It to me?

So when Karatos grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet, I screamed and clawed at Its fingers rather than kicking It in the balls as I should have. Rather than tearing It limb from limb as I might have, had I known myself.

“So much power,” It snarled. I stumbled, hunched and crying. “You can walk in both worlds, and yet you’re useless in both as well. You’re no threat to any of us.” It shoved me, releasing the grip on my hair as It did so, and I stumbled backward.

I pulled myself together, shook off the tears, and whirled around just in time to block another blow. Pain raced up my arm from where it had met the Terror’s arm, but it was better than allowing It to knock my teeth out. Surprise made Karatos hesitate, and I used that against It. I slammed my knee into Its crotch, something I had never done to any man. It crumpled just like I’d hoped It would, and I took that opportunity to punch It as hard as I could in the face.

“Leave my friends alone.” I was panting, high on adrenaline, but the words came out clear enough. “You understand me, you sonovabitch?”

Its reply was a punch in the stomach that sent me to my knees seeing stars and gasping for breath. It was followed by a kick to the head that in the real world would have broken my neck.

I was lying on my back, feeling as though I was going to vomit, when Karatos came over and lowered Itself over me, one hand braced beside my head.

“I could kill you,” It murmured, running the fingers of Its free hand down my cheek. “I’m supposed to, but I like your spirit.”

Supposed to? “Gee,” I rasped. “Thanks.”

Karatos leaned closer and ran Its tongue over my dry lips. I tried to jerk my head away, but pain exploded behind my eyelids at the movement. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” It told me in Its silky voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I stared up into that beautifully creepy gaze. “I suppose you don’t want to hurt Noah either?”

It smiled. It really was gorgeous, but even the smile was full of menace. “I have no intention of hurting, Noah—yet. He’s very important to me.”

Dread washed over me. I ignored the implied threat to Noah’s safety. “Important how?”

The smile faded. “Uh-ah. You know I’m not going to tell you that.”

No. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? “If he’s so important, why do you keep kicking the crap out of him?”

“Sometimes you hurt the people you care most about. Your mother could tell you all about that.”

Lucky I was in so much agony, otherwise the barb might have actually stung. “You don’t know anything about caring. You don’t know anything about me.”

Karatos traced the fingers of Its free hand along my cheek. “I know I could teach you how to reach your full potential, Dawnie.”

I stared at It. “Thanks, but I already have help. I’d rather you kill me.”

It shrugged. “As you wish.”

As he drew back, I reached into my sleeve and pulled the Marae blade free from its sheath. I didn’t know how the dagger made it into The Dreaming with me. I hadn’t been aware of it at all until I’d thought of how nice it would be to have it with me and noticed the straps of leather binding it to my arm. I lurched upward, ignoring the pain but blinded by it all the same, and drove the blade into Karatos’s chest.

I hoped I’d hit something vital.

The Terror’s screams echoed in my aching skull as I fell back upon the rock, and I smiled. I’d hit something all right.

My vision began to clear, and I saw Karatos struggling to Its feet, the dagger sticking out just below the breastbone. Damn. Its face was white as he reached for the hilt of the blade. The dagger came out with a sickening, slurping sound. Karatos lifted Its head and looked at me.

Shit. Now It was pissed off and armed.

The hand was smoking where it touched my knife. It wasn’t meant to be used by anything other than a Nightmare, but that didn’t mean another couldn’t wield it—the dagger simply made it damn difficult for that to happen.

It was going to kill me, and suddenly I was struck by how much I did not want that to happen. I acted without thinking—something that normally doesn’t work well for me—and opened my mouth. “Morpheus!” I screamed. “Morpheus!”

Karatos stopped dead, Its gaze darting around for any sign of my father. I took that moment to will the dagger back to my hand.

The Terror glanced down at Its empty fingers, then to me—astonishment plain on Its features—before running into the mist. It swallowed the Terror whole as It leaped from the edge of the rock, disappearing from my sight.

Morpheus was suddenly beside me, his hands gentle as they touched me. “Dawn? Lord Zeus, are you all right?”

“No,” I croaked. “No, I’m not.”

He lifted me into his arms, and within the time it took me to blink, we were in my old room at his palace. He placed me on the bed, which felt like heaven. My mother was there, too, wringing her hands.

“What happened?” Her voice shook.

“Karatos,” I answered, looking at my father. “My fault. I thought I could take It. It was going to kill me.”

Morpheus’s expression was murderous. Thunder rolled outside and shook the very walls of the palace. Hades hath no fury like a pissed-off god.

He touched my mother’s arm. “Look after her. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with my mother, and I was too sore and tired to protest. Besides, she was crying, and I really wanted her to make everything better, even if it was only temporary.

She held my hand, and I didn’t pull away. I didn’t have to be a therapist to know that much of my anger fueled itself on the love I still held for her. She was my mommy, and she had left me, but I knew in that moment that she loved me. Maybe not enough, but she loved me nevertheless.

She talked me through the healing process. It wasn’t something she could do herself, but she spoke to me in a soft voice, telling me to reach within myself for the ability to repair the damage Karatos had done.

Two hours later I was almost totally healed, and I had done it myself. I was feeling pretty proud of my accomplishment. Maybe I’d make a go of this Nightmare thing after all.

But then my father returned.

“The Terror is gone,” he announced in a flat, black voice. “It’s hiding, either by Its own means or with assistance.”

Assistance. So it was true then. Morpheus had enemies who would see him removed from his position. Enemies wouldn’t mind at all if their king’s freaky half-breed daughter died in the process.

“It said I was no threat to ‘us,’” I heard myself admit. “It said It was supposed to kill me.”

My mother’s face went white as she uttered a little gasp. Morpheus, however, didn’t look as surprised as I had hoped.

“Do they want to get to you?” I asked. “Or do they want me dead because I’m a half-breed?”

“Both,” he replied quietly. He sat on the side of my bed and took my hand in his. His fingers were strong and warm, and I clung to them as any frightened child would, a little stunned and silent that he had confirmed my fears.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I saw him as a father then—a true father—and it broke my heart to see the vulnerability and fear in his pale gaze. “I’ve failed at protecting you.”

“Teach me how to protect myself.” I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, too. Sorry for turning my back on him and who I was all those years ago. If I hadn’t done that, I would know how to fight Karatos. I wanted to tell him that, but pride kept me from doing it.

“I’ll alert the Nightmare Guild. The violence Karatos has leveled against dreamers will be enough to move them to action.”

I think seeing that uncertainty in his eyes almost drove me over the edge of what emotional control I had left. “So long as they don’t know that I’m involved.”

He nodded. “There are those who don’t…approve of you being a Nightmare.”

Approve was an understatement. It was a hell of a lot more than disapproval if he couldn’t trust them to help me. To help him.

What was all that crap Verek gave me about loyalty? I guess just because Verek was loyal to my father, I shouldn’t assume that all Nightmares are.

Other than his Royal Guard, my father and I were on our own. I knew then that it didn’t matter if I could heal myself in a couple of hours. Karatos had more friends in this world than I did. And if I didn’t get my act together, the next time we met, the Terror was going to make good on Its promise to kill me.

The bruises I had left had faded considerably by the time I left The Dreaming. I couldn’t heal nearly as quickly in the mortal world, and so I had a pale purple, green, and yellow shadow on the side of my face, high up around my cheekbone. I wasn’t sure if it was from the slap or when Karatos kicked me.

It was Saturday, so I didn’t have to worry about going to work and trying to explain why I was sporting healed bruises when I hadn’t had fresh ones the day before. I could spend the day on the couch, watching the Monk marathon on TV, but that wasn’t really an option. Karatos had eluded my father and threatened to kill me. And I knew that there were other Dreamkin who wouldn’t mind seeing me gone either. But more importantly, Karatos had revealed to me that all this bullshit was linked to Noah.

It was Noah who was the prize, not me. That, at least, made me feel a little better. At least I knew that this whole mess wasn’t about getting rid of me.

So even though I’d rather get my nipples pierced than face Noah again, I got dressed and made my way across town to his flat.

It was unseasonably warm, and I was sweating beneath my light sweater and suede coat as I rang the buzzer. The dampness between my shoulder blades itched in a spot that was impossible for me to reach, and I was grinding my back into the doorjamb when I heard a familiar voice.

“Let me guess, you’re auditioning for The Jungle Book on Broadway.”

I stopped squirming and straightened, itch barely satisfied. Warren was walking toward me with a friendly smile on his little lips.