Dreamfever (34 page)

I don't remember,
she'd told him.

And he'd said,
How interesting
.

But she remembered now. He had designed only the circlet, and it had been meant not to control the Dream, but to protect the wearer from dreaming.

And he hadn't built it because he'd believed it would drive the wearer mad.

“
Teraz sobie przypomniałam
,” she told him.

I remember now.

She was afraid to look at Will. Instead she looked down at her hands, which rested on her sketchbook, full of what she had believed were Feodor's ideas.

“What's going on?” Whim asked.

“So, if Josh designed the devices, can you still figure out how to destroy them?” Deloise asked.

Feodor brightened. “I believe so. I believe that if you built a second set of devices, replacing the southern magnet on the cephalic vein with a diamagnetic substance—perhaps antimony—and coating it with copper, you would, ah …
boost
the power of the devices to such a degree that Peregrine's devices would be no match for yours.”

It could work,
Josh thought. Using a diamagnetic substance had never occurred to her, but of course Feodor was exactly right.

“It might even diminish the current enough to keep my skin from burning,” she said.

“Precisely! The devices, as you have designed them, will eventually break down the integrity of the subtle body, killing the operator, but this change will weaken the effect so that you will far outlast your enemy.”

And the power would be immense. Josh wasn't even sure she'd have to think of something before it happened—the Dream would conform as fast as her impulses. Peregrine's brain wouldn't have time to register that she was there before she captured him, and then she would finally be able to bring peace to the Dream the way she'd dreamed of for so long—

“
Hell no,
” Will said.

Josh blinked at him. “What?”

He was standing at the far end of the campsite, next to Josh's car, as if he had been on the verge of driving away and stopped only when he realized what they were planning behind his back.

“You want
more
power?” he asked. “All along, you've been obsessed with controlling the Dream. You built two devices that could basically brainwash everyone in the World, and now your answer to dismantling them is to give yourself
more
power?”

Josh swallowed.
Yes,
she thought.
I just need a little more.

“If that's what she needs to beat Peregrine,” Whim said, “then that's what she needs.”

“It would just be for a little while,” Deloise began, and Will cut her off.

“Would it? Would it
just be for a little while,
Josh?” He began walking toward her, breaking a s'more stick into smaller and smaller pieces as he approached. “Would you stop Peregrine and then take the devices off forever? Would you throw them in the fire? Would you dismantle the towers? Or would you tell yourself that you know what's best for everyone and march into the Dream to fix everything the way you've been obsessing about ever since you found out—”

“Will!” Deloise cried, and only then did Josh realize that he was so far gone, he would have blurted out her secret to Feodor.

Will stopped and shook himself. “Find another way,” he said curtly, and went back to breaking up the s'more stick.

Josh looked down at the sketch pad beneath her hands. She'd always felt it was full of dirty secrets. “He's right,” she said. “I have to stop.”

She rubbed at her tired eyes, longing to rub at her soul the same way, to shrug off this moral confusion. Did she want to build Feodor's better weapon because she wanted to protect the Dream or control it?

It didn't matter. She couldn't trust herself, not after all she'd done.

Yes, you can,
a little voice inside her whispered.

She hadn't heard that voice in a long, long time, maybe not since the moment she'd rescued herself, Will, and Haley from death in the Dream so many months before.

Of course you could put the devices down afterward,
the voice told her.
You would be disappointed, but you'd do it. Will is just afraid because Will is always afraid.

She glanced at him, where he stood throwing bits of stick into the fire.

Maybe the voice was right. Maybe she would be able to use the devices one last time to defeat her grandfather and then let them go. But she knew one thing for certain: she would lose Will if she did.

“Think of something else,” she told Feodor.

His earlier glee had cooled into something akin to distrust. “The best solutions are simple,” he said. “I have given you a simple solution.”

“It doesn't matter,” Josh told him. “Building a bigger gun isn't the answer.”

“You desire a moral weapon to point at an amoral enemy,” Feodor warned. “Peregrine Borgenicht is not a stranger to me. You will not defeat him with your conscience.”

“It's my choice,” Josh said.

Feodor shook his head slowly. Josh recognized the emotion hidden deep in his expression—he didn't just think she was making a mistake, he was actually angered by her moral qualms. Feodor didn't believe in the limitations of conscience.

That Josh did reassured her.

“You can either come up with a different plan, or we can hike back into the forest and end your vacation right now,” she told him.

He sighed. Then he smiled irritably and said, “Tell me again about the towers.”

As Josh talked, Will came back to the picnic table and sat beside her.

By dawn, they had agreed on a new plan. It was a terrible plan, and Josh knew it. She suspected Will knew it, too, and Feodor actually laughed at them when they agreed to it, but it was the second-best plan they had, so they took it.

*   *   *

Afterward, they got ready for bed. “Ah,” Feodor said, and then asked Josh,
“Gdzie tu jest toaleta?”

She thought about telling him to piss in the woods and then shrugged. “I'll take you.”

Whim refused to let them go alone, so the three of them walked the half mile down the road to the latrines. Whim went inside with Feodor, and Josh went to wash her hands at a nearby spigot, but when she straightened, Feodor was standing in front of her.

“This will not work,” he said plainly.

Josh wiped her wet hands on her jeans, said nothing.

“I know you have not told me everything. I understand that you do not trust me, and that your friends would like to kill me, but if you wish to survive this encounter, you must confide in me.”

The plan was not quite as bad as Feodor believed, but only because he didn't know that Josh was the True Dream Walker. And that was the last thing she would ever tell him.

She started to walk past him, but he touched her arm. He didn't grab her, he merely laid the cold tips of his fingers on her wrist.

“You said you have my memories. You must know something of who I am. I will stand beside you against Peregrine.”

She didn't remember how Feodor knew Peregrine, if they had known each other. She did remember that he used to touch her like this in her nightmares, so lightly, such fleeting promises to draw her closer.

Right before he tore her to pieces.

Josh smiled at the sight of his skin against hers.

“I know exactly who you are,” she told him, and she walked away.

*   *   *

After they had tied Feodor up and locked him in the trunk of Josh's car, and everyone else had gone to bed, Will found Josh sitting on the cooler beside the cooling fire.

He sat down beside her and took her hand.

“Promise me,” she said, “that when this is all over, you'll still love me.”

He kissed the side of her face, but she wouldn't look at him.

“I'll always love you,” he said.

But she knew it wasn't true.

 

Twenty−six

Because they didn't
know what they might encounter at the Weaver-Avish-Mckarr house—brainwashed parents, surveillance cameras, a torch-bearing mob—they decided to enter the Dream through the archway in the basement of Josh's mother's cabin.

Will hadn't been to the cabin since before their first encounter with Feodor; he didn't think any of them had. As they walked down the gravel drive toward the charred mess of rubble, Whim suddenly said, “Oh, my God! Is today the day?”

“No,” Josh said tightly. “It's still two days away.”

Will knew what she meant, but Mirren asked. “What's two days away?”

“One year since the cabin burned,” Josh said.

“And Ian died,” Deloise added, shooting Feodor an ugly look.

Will didn't think Feodor noticed. For the first time since his resurrection, he seemed confused, alarmed even. As they reached the remains of the cabin, he asked, “Where are we?”

“Just outside of Charle,” Josh told him absently, her eyes searching for a way through the rubble.

But Will saw Feodor's face stiffen, not so much with anger as … fear?

“Whose home was this?” he all but whispered.

“What does it matter?” Whim asked, at the same time Josh said, “It was my mother's.”

Will took a couple of steps toward them, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“You are Dustine Borgenicht's granddaughter,” Feodor said. “I had forgotten.”

He and Josh gazed at each other in a way that unnerved Will. Bad enough that they could communicate privately in Polish; could they read each other's thoughts now?

“Josh,” Will said, but he had to shake her shoulder before she could look at him.

“What?” she asked.

“The plan?” Whim said. “Remember? Stopping your grandfather?”

“Right.” This time she shook herself. “Right. Uh, I think we can use that beam to make a bridge to the basement stairs.”

Ten minutes later, they were all jammed into one clear area on the basement floor. Will helped Whim push partially burned wood and the remnants of furniture and the scorched water heater out of the way while Josh located the archway to the Dream. Because this archway—which Josh's mother had died creating—had never been properly finished, no arch framed its edges and any bits of looking stone it had produced had long ago been swept away.

“Let's do a final equipment check,” Josh said. They each had a roll of duct tape and a fanny pack stuffed with electronic signal transmitters.

Josh and Feodor had spent the day before building the transmitters. About the size of a sandwich cookie, each would emit a radio transmission when Josh pushed a separate activator. The idea was too far rooted in dream theory for Will to understand; all he knew was that once they had attached a transmitter to each tower—or as many as they could find—Josh would activate them and the entire network of towers would stop working without tearing the Veil. It had to do with signals—or waves, maybe?—and Dream particles and ionization.

Their first major hurdle turned out to have solved itself. When Josh shone reflected light onto the archway hanging in midair, the basketball court they had been so worried about locating appeared in front of them. But instead of the dozen basketball players who had been present when Josh first placed the towers, now several hundred people were crammed onto the court.

“This isn't right,” Josh said. “This nightmare formed an hour and a half's drive from here.”

“Maybe it shifted closer,” Deloise said.

“If it had shifted,” Josh pointed out, “it wouldn't still exist at all. Somehow the towers are preventing this part of the Dream from changing.”

Feodor stepped closer to the archway. “I wonder if perhaps we are observing Kristiking's dreamspace.”

“Which is what?” Will asked.

“Kristiking theorized that because the Dream does not occupy physical space, it is possible that all nightmares share space-time dimensions and occur simultaneously—”

“And I'm out,” Whim declared. “Josh, give it to me straight.”

“It means,” Josh said, “that since the towers are preventing this part of the Dream from shifting, everyone who should be having their own nightmares in this area is having a big shared nightmare on the basketball court. It's not a good thing, but in this case it works in our favor, since we don't have to wander around in the Dream looking for the spot where Bash and I placed the towers.”

“See how much simpler that was?” Whim asked Feodor.

Feodor eyed him dryly. “Kristiking would not think so.”

Something was different about Feodor. Will had noticed it in the temple, and he noticed it again now. Although the man seemed just as dangerous as the first time they'd met, he struck Will as slightly less outright crazy. The manic glee in his eyes had dimmed, and … he was almost more attentive to the people around him, more aware of them as real people.

One by one, they jumped through the Veil; Will knew they each went for their own reasons. Deloise, because she wouldn't abandon her sister; Whim, because he wanted to kill Feodor at the earliest opportunity; Feodor, because this was the only way to extend his vacation; Mirren, because she was determined to save Haley; Josh, because this was her mess to clean; and Will, because he needed this to end. He needed all of it to end.

He just couldn't let Josh build even more powerful devices. The cycle would never end. More powerful devices would create more powerful enemies, which would require more powerful weapons, and so on, and so on.… No one solved problems by escalating the behavior that had created them. At least, not in psychology.

They landed in the center of the basketball court, where at least a hundred nightmares were occurring simultaneously. The court was jammed with people like right after a big tournament, and many of them were shouting at one another, some were tussling on the ground, one group was building a human pyramid.