Before I Wake (32 page)

I sat down and let my mother pour the tea, then she let me add the sugar to both our cups. She smiled at me across the table, and I smiled back, until I remembered not to.

I watched as the pleasure drained from her face. She looked older. Sadder. “Dawn, are you ever going to forgive me?”

I thought of my sisters and my brother and my father. I thought of the grandchildren my mother would never know. And I thought of how happy she was here—happier than I had ever seen. “No,” I told her. Her doelike eyes filled with tears. “But I’ll try to understand you.”

The tears didn’t dry up, but they didn’t fall either, so I suppose we had reached some kind of agreement. “Thank you.”

Silence stretched for a moment. “Was it easy?” I heard myself ask the question I’d wondered for so long.

She tapped the spoon on the side of her cup before setting it on the saucer. “What?”

“Leaving us.”

Her hands folded around her cup, but not before I saw the tremor in her fingers. “No. Of course not. But I haven’t left any of you.”

Now that was just a lie. “What do you call walking out of our lives without a good-bye?”

“You walked out of your father’s, remember?”

“It’s not the same.” I was pretty sure it wasn’t. I snatched a sandwich off the plate and shoved it into my mouth. I wasn’t hungry, but it was the most defiant thing I could think of to do.

“You turned your back on him and this world. You wouldn’t even let him into your dreams. I visit your brother and sisters regularly in their dreams. I see my grandchildren, too.”

She had mentioned that before. Once in a while someone would tell me they dreamed about Mom, but I usually tuned it out, not wanting to hear. Or worse, I treated it like I would a patient’s dream and told myself that my siblings were using dreams to compensate for what their real world lacked.

“I watched over you, too, after you left.”

My heart jumped, making my body lurch with it. “How?” I had put up walls. Built my own world.

She gave me a patient smile. “Your father is master of this world. Do you really think you could keep him out? The only thing that kept him from forcing you to come back to us was that he knew we’d lose you forever.”

I swallowed. I thought I had been so clever, so rebellious. I didn’t owe her an explanation, but I gave one anyway. “I wanted to be normal. I didn’t want to be what I am.”

She sighed. “Honey, you can’t run away from what you are. Those walls didn’t stop you from being you, they just postponed it.”

“Don’t remind me.” Because I had tried so hard to deny my heritage, I was paying for it now. Was that how Karatos had found me? Because my walls hadn’t been as strong as I’d thought? Or had he simply taken his time looking, wiggling his way in by chipping away at my shoddy defenses?

Or, maybe, someone more powerful had helped him. Were my father’s enemies conspiring against him? Was that the “us”

Karatos mentioned? Was I just a pawn to get to Morpheus?

And how much did my mother know about all of this? Not much, I’d bet. I wasn’t about to offer her up for sainthood just yet, but she’d be a lot more freaky if she thought someone was trying to hurt me just to get to her lover, and Morpheus struck me as the

“must protect my little woman by keeping her in the dark” sort.

A slim hand reached across to pat one of my larger ones. She was so dainty, my mother. How she’d ever managed to birth a lumberjack like me I’d never know. It had to be those immortal genes.

“I love you,” she informed me matter-of-factly. “And no matter what, you’ll always be my baby girl.”

Oh God. I couldn’t swallow, my throat had closed up so tight. I couldn’t see because my eyes burned with tears. Not now. Not freaking now.

Like the answer to my unspoken prayer, my father chose that moment to enter the room. It wasn’t like he opened a portal as I had, or that he came through the door like a person would. He seemed to walk out of the air, not interacting with the world but rather part of it.

“I thought I felt you here,” he said in way of greeting as he grabbed two sandwiches off the plate and practically swallowed them whole.

“Did you find Karatos?” I knew it was a pointless question. If he had found the Terror, I’d know about it.

“No. We’ve come close a couple of times, but then he slips into a new guise. Don’t worry, he’ll reveal himself eventually.”

I managed a wry smile. “And when he does, you’ll be waiting?”

Morpheus smiled. It was like the snarl of a hungry wolf—no humor but plenty of anticipation. “How’s your friend?”

He seemed to have an aversion to calling Noah by name. “As well as can be expected.”

He lifted his face, like someone catching the scent of fresh baked pie. “His presence is muted. You’ve made him take something to stay out of this world.”

Drugs were tricky. A little bit was good for suppressing REM, but sometimes drugs induced strange or wonderful dreams in the sleeper, which was why morphine had been named for my father.

“I had to,” I told him. “It’s not safe for him here with Karatos planning to possess him.”

My parents both looked at me with almost identical frowns. “What do you mean?” My mother asked, pouring a cup of tea for Morpheus. There had only been two cups before. Now there were three.

I looked at my father. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

Face stony, Morpheus glared at me. “You’ve been talking to Jones again, haven’t you?”

“You mean Antwoine? Yeah. He’s been very helpful to me—much more forthcoming with information than you’ve been.”

My mother glanced back and forth between the two of us, but Morpheus and I never took our attention off each other.

“I can just imagine how helpful.” My father sneered. “What does he want in return?”

“He wanted me to ask after Madrene.”

The darkness in Morpheus’s face grew. He looked like a thundercloud about to burst. “You can tell him that she is well.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

I suppose it was something. Given my father’s feelings on the subject, the fact that he had volunteered any information at all spoke volumes. Antwoine would probably be glad for it. I’d keep my word and look for her once this was all over. “Thank you.”

Morpheus merely nodded. Then he turned that piercing blue gaze to me. His eyes weren’t as creepy as mine had been. Did he change them for my mother’s benefit? And since he’d been such a shit about Antwoine…

“Why would anyone want me dead?” I asked. “If I die in the human world, I’m going to come here anyway, so it’s not like they can get rid of me.”

Morpheus’s face tightened, and the answer came to me. “But then I’d belong to one world and only one. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The fact that I’m the only half-breed ever to be born.”

“The first ever to survive,” he corrected.

“And they hate me for it.” Prejudice was alive and well in The Dreaming. W00t! Bring out your pitchforks! But they had known about me for years. Why now?

Because I was twenty-eight. What had Antwoine said the first time we met—I was mature. I was coming into my power, and now I could be a potential threat. But to what?

“You must have really pissed someone off if they’re targeting me, especially when I haven’t been here in years. Why do they want to hurt you?”

Morpheus didn’t say anything. He just stood there, with his jaw tight, looking somewhere over my shoulder. My mother’s pretty face broke into a frown—a scared one—as she lifted her gaze to his. “Answer her.” Her voice might have been soft, but the emotion behind it wasn’t.

He glanced at her, his face softening. Then he looked at me, and the softness disappeared. “I have enemies, as all kings do. I’ve always been accused of having too much love for humans, that’s part of the job. Because your mother is human there are some in the kingdom who do not approve of her living here with me.”

“And they don’t approve of your half-human child,” I added.

His gaze practically bore a hole through me. “My half-human heir.”

Well shit. That certainly shone a brand-new light on the situation. Suddenly, everything was a lot more clear in my mind. “Great.

No wonder they want me dead.”

“Who wants you dead?” my mother demanded. The look she shot Morpheus could have ignited tinder. “You said it was just the Terror. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Morpheus sighed the sigh of a man who knew he was in deep trouble and that there was no way out.

“I don’t know exactly,” he told her. “But I suspect that part of the reason Karatos has slipped through my grasp so easily is because he has help.”

“From your enemies,” she supplied. Her mouth tightened at his nod. “Enemies who want to kill our daughter just to make a point.”

“Maggie…”

“Fix this, Morpheus,” she demanded. “Fix this now. Make her human—do something to keep her safe!”

“He can’t do that,” I told her, knowing it to be true and feeling bad for her because of it. “He can’t make me something I’m not.” I turned to my father. “What do we have to do?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw before stuffing both in the pockets of his jeans. “This could be a small group testing the waters to see how far I can be pushed.” Or there could be a large mutiny brewing in The Dreaming. Either way, it had to be stopped, or the human world could suffer as well. I didn’t want to think what might happen if someone who had less love for humanity took over my father’s rule.

And I’ll admit it—I didn’t want to think of the fact that I’d have to be dead for that to happen.

I gave a sharp nod. “We need to stop Karatos quickly—and brutally.”

My father looked surprised and strangely proud. “Yes. I have no doubt that the promise of humanity is his reward for targeting you. He’ll be on earth, where he can do lasting damage.”

Christ. And he was going to use Noah to do it. “So, what do we do?”

“It’s not safe for your friend to go too long without dreaming. If Karatos doesn’t reveal himself soon, we may have to lure him in.”

“Lure him in?” Suddenly I understood. “I suppose Noah would be the bait?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“It’s either that, or he dies.”

And if he did, some of the responsibility for that would fall on me. “Not if we use me as bait instead.” God, when did I become a hero? Since I’d started falling for Noah. A human being couldn’t survive without dreams, and Noah could only deny them so long.

Dreaming recycled the soul. It was the psyche’s version of an oil change. Dreaming was for getting rid of the garbage and holding on to the good.

My mother looked horrified. My father did, too—he also looked proud, and that pleased me, I admit.

“Fair enough.” I also admit I expected him to put up at least a bit of a fuss.

My mother grabbed him by the wrist. “No. I won’t allow Dawn to be put in any more danger.”

Anger and bitterness aside, I realized at that moment that my mother, regardless of her great and huge faults, loved me. Too bad I had to be facing total annihilation for that realization to happen.

“We’re not putting her in more danger,” he countered. “We’re trying to get her out of it.” Morpheus drained his cup and set it down on the table. “I have to get back to the search.”

“Wait.” My voice stopped him as he began to walk away. “What can I do?”

He turned and came to me, smiling a father’s smile. “Stay safe, and let your instincts guide you.”

With that said, he bent and kissed my cheek and, after kissing my mother—who was not impressed with him—he disappeared, much the way he had appeared to begin with.

“That went well,” I said, slightly dazed. I had to accept all of this and fast, or this constant fog of disbelief was going to get me killed.

I picked up another sandwich. I couldn’t wrap my head around having the kind of power my father had—or that my mind seemed to think I might possess, but three weeks ago I wouldn’t have been able to wrap my head around opening portals or having my eyes change color.

My mother’s eyes looked too big in her pale face. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” She actually choked when she said it—like on a sob.

I could do that, even if it might prove to be a lie. I could give her a little hope because I wasn’t a total bitch, and I couldn’t bring myself purposefully to hurt her at the moment. “I promise.”

It was time to leave—before she hugged me or something. I had to remind myself not to get too close. Regardless of what she said, or how caring and frightened she appeared, she had abandoned me and the rest of her family, and a woman who would do that once would do it again in a second.

I said good-bye and opened a portal. I hopped right through. Either I was getting better at this, or I’d been given a lucky break.

I took another drink of water from the bottle I’d opened and left the rest on the counter. Then I quickly tiptoed back upstairs and slipped into the soft, inviting warmth of Noah’s bed. He stopped snoring and shifted, his body easing toward mine. He reached for me, and I went willingly into his arms. I needed to be there.

“Where were you?” he asked, pulling me close so that he was spooned around my back.

“I had to get a drink.” It wasn’t really a lie if I left stuff out, was it? I had been thirsty after all.

“I thought I’d lost you.” His voice was a warm mumble against my skin.

“No,” I said, snuggling deep into his embrace. “You’re not going to lose me.” And I’m not going to lose you.

I hated keeping secrets.

Normally I was the kind of person who couldn’t hang on to a secret no matter how hard she tried. Oh sure, I did an okay job of keeping the fact that I was a Nightmare hidden, but that was self-preservation. Who’d go to a psychologist who claimed to be half-immortal?

Secrets slipped through my fingers, tumbled from my lips. I just wasn’t good at holding things close. Sometimes I would tell one person who I was sure would never say anything—but then I’d feel guilty for telling.

Patients’ secrets were different. That was my job. Yes, I’ll admit that sometimes I talked about patients, but I never revealed names. Never told their stories just for the sake of telling. That was just too much like betrayal.