Dreamfever (30 page)

Josh's idea was simple: They had to disconnect. If no one could find Mirren, no one could kill her. Their camping trip would be free from cell phones, computers, and communication with the dream-walker world, and they'd stay off radar until they came up with a better plan.

There had been some debate over who would travel with Mirren. Josh had insisted on going along to protect Mirren, and she'd wanted Will to go with her. Will had been relieved by the idea of getting away—he wanted Josh as far from an archway as possible. Deloise was coming, but she hadn't wanted Whim to come, and when he'd insisted, Deloise had responded by running the calla lilies through the garbage disposal.

Thanks to his psychic powers, Haley was the only one who was entirely safe from Peregrine's influence, but he believed he could protect the others. To that end, he and Mirren had made a detour to buy semiprecious stones, tiny mirrors, five pounds of Himalayan pink salt, and a lot of string. Once Whim got the fire going and Deloise began mixing up a big pot of Velveeta Shells & Cheese, Haley used the string to hang dozens of crystals and quarter-sized mirrors from the tree branches arching over their tents.

“These will help?” Josh asked, peering up at the rocks as they spun slowly in the breeze. “What are they?”

“Moonstone, malachite, black tourmaline, and amethyst. They'll help.”

Before bed, Haley gave them each a dose of over-the-counter sleeping pills. “So you'll sleep too deeply to dream,” he explained. “And wear these. If the bone breaks in the night, we'll know Peregrine got to you.”

He then handed out greasy chicken bones with pieces of string tied to them.

“Are they necklaces?” Deloise asked, putting hers on.

“Are they
lunch
?” Whim asked. They'd stopped at a fast-food chicken place during the drive.

Haley just smiled.

They set up a girls' tent and a boys' tent. Will was happy to turn in early and climbed into his sleeping bag as soon as he began feeling the effects of the sleeping pills.

“Um, Haley?” Whim said, lying down beside Will. “I understand that salt circles are supposed to protect people from evil and all that, but why the hell did you draw one
inside
the tent?”

Haley giggled. “I didn't want to kill the plants outside. This is a forest.”

“Dude, there is so much salt in my sleeping bag. Wait … chicken bones, salt … It's a stew! Run, Will, run!”

Will didn't laugh, but he couldn't hold back a smile. “Why is it so hard to stay mad at you?”

“Because God knew that if he made me any other way, I would have very little chance of survival,” Whim quipped.

Will chuckled, but he couldn't resist saying, “For a guy who just got dumped, you're awfully chipper.”

“Have no fear, my friend. No woman can resist the charms of the Whimarian. By this time next week, Deloise will be back in my arms and all will be right with the World.”

That's a nice thought,
Will reflected as he sank into sleep.

But it will never happen.

*   *   *

The next three days were strangely calm for Will. He gave up on the idea that he might be able to help the others sort out their problems and instead began exploring the campground. Leaving Josh and Mirren to pore over a sketchbook full of equations and fret about the devices Josh had built, he pretended he was as carefree as the rest of the campers. He swam with Haley; he kayaked with Deloise; he fished with Whim. If tensions ever arose at the campsite, he just wandered off on his own to hike through the forest and enjoy the quiet. He even bought a cheap digital camera from the camp store and used it to take photographs of the water, the trees, the birds that soared overhead.

He tried to ignore the fact that Josh's and Mirren's stress levels were obviously increasing. The first night, he woke briefly to the sound of Josh thrashing around in the girls' tent, calling out for help, but he was so tired that he fell back to sleep as soon as he heard Deloise calming her. The second night, Josh woke them all up with shrill, animal-like screams that caused Whim to try to leap to his feet. He ended up with his legs mired in his sleeping bag and fell over on top of Haley.

By the third night, Will had grown attuned to the desperate whimpers that preceded Josh's full-blown panic. Deloise must have as well, because Will heard her voice through the walls of the nylon tents as she shook her sister awake.

“You're okay, you're okay, you're awake now. It wasn't real.”

Then he heard Josh crying, not just whimpering but full-on crying, and Deloise shushing her.

From the other side of the tent, Whim whispered, “Isn't there something you can do for her, Haley? Different stones or more salt or a tinfoil hat?”

“It isn't coming from outside her,” Haley whispered. “It's in her mind. That's Will's arena, not mine.”

Will didn't know if Haley meant Will should be the one to comfort Josh because he was her boyfriend or because he'd read a lot of self-help books.

Pick one,
he told himself.

Josh was still crying. Will sat up, unzipped the tent door, and brushed the salt off the bottoms of his feet before stepping into his sandals.

“Knock knock,” he said outside the girls' tent.

Josh unzipped the door and fell into his arms while trying to climb out. “Sorry,” she moaned. “I can stop. I'll figure out how.”

The sight of moonlit tears on her face broke him. He'd only seen her cry, really cry with tears—what, twice? She hadn't even cried when Gloves shattered her elbow.

I'm an idiot,
he thought, and hugged her.

“Mirren was right—they're nightmares,” he said. “They aren't fantasies. I'm not mad at you.”

For some reason, that made her cry harder.

They sat down on the cooler together, far enough from the tents that they could whisper to each other in private. Will found such comfort in holding Josh that for a moment he couldn't remember why he'd stopped.

“Why didn't you tell me about the nightmares when they started?” he asked.

“I did,” she insisted. “Every time I slept in your room, I was telling you.”

She felt so small to him tonight. She always felt small—she
was
small—but usually Will could feel the strength coiled inside her, the power ready to explode the instant she called on it. Tonight she felt small and so fragile, like a hummingbird.

“But why didn't you tell me about the devices and … the other stuff?”

“For the same reason you can't say it! Because it's twisted. And it's almost, sort of like cheating on you.” She hid her face against his shoulder. “And, honestly, I think I didn't tell you because I knew it was wrong to build the circlet and vambrace and I knew you'd call me out.”

“I would have!” he agreed. “I mean, damn, Josh, what were you thinking?” She shrank back, but he kept his grip around her tight. He had no intention of letting either of them pull away tonight. “People need other people, Josh. None of us is complete alone. And one reason you need other people is because sometimes your judgment isn't that great.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that's true. Every time I do something stupid and reckless, I do it in spite of somebody telling me not to.” He felt her relax against him again. “Do you need me?”

“Of course. I need you to get me out of my head, because when I spend too much time there, I go a little crazy. I'll always need you.”

The night was warm, but Will felt her shiver.

“But—but—now you're going to hate me forever.”

“What?” he asked. “Why would I hate you?”

But she must have passed him her shiver, because he felt it slide through him like the warning whisper of a ghost.
Don't tell me,
he thought.
Let's just stay at this lake forever. We can be happy here. We can survive.

“Because,” she whispered, “I have to go find Feodor.”

“What does that mean? Like, in your dreams?”

“No.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I have to break into Death and find him. He's the only one besides Bash who can figure out how to remove the towers.”

Will was confused; whatever he had feared or expected, this wasn't it.

“But if you go into Death, you'll die. Besides, even if you went to the afterlife or whatever and found Feodor's … soul, and it told you how to remove the towers, you wouldn't be able to tell anyone who was still alive.”

Josh gently detached herself from him and stood up so she could pace around the coals of the campfire. “That's not quite how it works. I might be able to—” She turned and called toward the tents, “Mirren? You want to come out here?”

A flashlight came on in the girls' tent, and Mirren emerged a few moments later, pulling a light sweater on over her pajamas.

“Tell him,” Josh said.

Mirren sat down in a chair and said, very quietly, “Will, I'm going to tell you something that I never thought I would tell anyone, let alone three people. It's one of the secrets my family keeps, one of the things we know that are the most important to keep secret. You will understand why as soon as I tell you. I need your promise that you will never tell anyone, for any reason.”

Will hated every word. More secrets—hadn't he and Josh been trying to get rid of their secrets? Nothing good had ever come of one, and here he was being asked to keep another.

“I'm done keeping secrets,” he said. “I'm sorry if that's inconvenient.”

He rose from the cooler, but Josh grabbed his arm. “Mirren, tell him.”

“If he won't—”

“He doesn't have to promise,” Josh insisted. “Will would never tell people things that would hurt them. He's a dream walker; he understands responsibility.”

Mirren gave Josh a long, level look and said, “It's on you, then.”

“Fine.”

Will almost protested that he didn't want to know, but Mirren was already speaking in a low, quick voice that carried only a few feet through the darkness. “My family knows a ritual to break into Death. That is the correct term—‘to break in.' It would allow us to enter Death, hopefully to find Feodor and ask him how to remove the towers, and then return to the World, without us dying.”

Will waited to see how he would react, but the information was lost on him. What Mirren was suggesting was so unbelievable that he simply didn't believe it.

“And you've done this ritual before?” he asked.

“No,” Mirren admitted.

“But you know someone who has.”

“No.”

“But you have some sort of evidence that this is actually possible.”

Mirren glanced at Josh. “The ritual hasn't been performed—or, at least, recorded as performed—in recent memory. But I believe it will work.”

“Yeah. That's about what I thought.”

Will started toward his tent.

“I don't even know what I got out of bed for,” he muttered to himself.

The girls chased after him, but he blocked out their protests and arguments. The plan was crap. The plan wasn't going to work. They were going to have to keep thinking while he went hiking and fishing and photographed ducks.

Finally, Josh jumped in front of him and cut off his path. “All right,” she said. “Maybe it won't work. Probably it won't work. But at this point we don't have any other ideas, so I don't see why we shouldn't at least try it.”

Will felt boxed in—Josh in front of him, Mirren behind him—and trapped most of all by this terrible thing they were suggesting.

“You don't see why we shouldn't try it?” he repeated slowly. “You don't see why going into the Death universe and calling out one of the craziest people there to ask his advice, which you would apparently then consider following, is a bad idea?”

“He's dead,” Josh said. “He can't hurt us anymore.”

“You don't know that!” Will felt his pulse speed up. The easy dismissal was wearing off and the realization that Josh was actually talking about going to find Feodor was sinking in. “Do you think being dead made him less crazy? 'Cause I think it probably just pissed him off, and in case you've forgotten, we're the ones who killed him!”

“Mirren says he's a shade, he won't be able to hurt us.”

“Mirren doesn't even know if her ritual has ever worked or if it will work for us. For all she knows, Feodor could take over your body as soon as you get there.”

“No, I
know
that can't happen,” Mirren said.

Haley emerged from their tent, wrapped in his disgusting old robe. “Your girlfriend's insane,” Will told him. “You need to— She's trying to find him!”

“Please,” Josh pleaded, “listen to us. This is a long shot, but it might work.”

“I don't want it to work!” he burst out. “Are you listening to yourself? You're talking about going to find Feodor! The evil sociopath who nearly killed us!”

“We just need to ask him a few questions—”

“What makes you think he'd tell you anything? Why would he help you?”

“Mirren says Death changes people—”

Will began laughing. “Yeah, I'm sure it does.” He tilted his head back and the stars above—or Haley's crystals—spun crazily.

He couldn't see Josh clearly, but he heard how helpless she felt when she spoke. “Will … we just don't know what else to do at this point.”

“Pretty much anything else would be okay with me.”

“Will,” Josh said, and he saw her turn her head to glance at Mirren before going on.

“Don't look at Mirren!” Will barked, and his control snapped like the chicken bone he wore around his neck. “Mirren doesn't know what happened last time! She didn't see the look on your face when you realized Feodor had Ian, she wasn't the one you called an outsider when she tried to make you think rationally, and she didn't have to watch you vomiting and beating your head against the floor to try to escape Feodor's memories! So don't tell me that
Mirren
is any sort of authority on letting you risk your life!”