Dreamseeker (20 page)

“
Don't kill him,”
I ordered.

Muttering a curse under her breath, she let go of him. I went to shut the front door and set the lock. If someone came to investigate what all the noise was about, it would buy us a moment's time.

“You okay?” I asked Rita.

“Yeah. You?”

The pain in my side was sharp but not unbearable. My ribs were bruised, but probably not broken. “I think so.”

She looked around the room, exhaling sharply in exasperation. “What now?”

Our original plan had been to set fire to the place, then exit out the back window and use the drainage ditch to get away. But we couldn't lower the guard's six foot body out that window. And I wasn't going to leave him here to burn to death.

For a moment we just stood there, looking around at the body, the safe, the door, and not saying anything. Time was running out.

“You go out the back,” I said. “I'll drag him out the front.”

She blinked. “Say
what
?”

There were voices outside now, coming our way. Clearly our
struggle had been heard, and people were trying to figure out which building the noise had come from. Any minute now they would test our door.

“I'll make a show of rescuing one of their people,” I said. “My back will be to most of them, and the others will be paying attention to the fire, not me—”

“Jeez, are you
crazy
? You can't just walk out there—”

“So what the hell do you suggest we do?” I demanded. “We can't get his body out through the back window, and I'm certainly not going to leave him here to burn. We need that fire to cover our exit, which means we need to get him out of here. Do you know another way? Because if you do, I'm listening.”

She stared at me for a moment. “You've got balls, girl.”

“No,” I said sharply. “What I've got is no other choice. Now, get the damn fire started while I drag this guy's body over to the door.”

I checked his neck first to make sure there was a pulse. There was. Then I started to drag him across the floor, positioning him right in front of the door. It would have been easier if Rita had been helping me, but we needed to get our diversion started, fast. She was grabbing up handfuls of paper from the filing cabinet and cast them across the floor, creating a line of flammable refuse that stretched across the room. If we'd been able to follow our original plan to set the fire in secret, it could have grown to strength before anyone even realized what was going on. But any minute now someone could walk in the door, ready to beat out a small fire. So it had to spread fast.

“Here.” I pulled the guard's keys from his belt and threw them to Rita. “Get the kids out of the compound if you can. If not, at least get yourself out.”

For a moment she looked like she was about to argue with me, then she just shook her head grimly and pulled out her lighter. Kneeling down, she set fire to the paper in one spot, then another. As the flames began to spread she grabbed up Morgana's drawing and started to back away. It startled me at first that she would save the thing, then I realized she had no clue we had already found what we came for.

The fires spread quickly, joining together to separate us. There was no denying the bone-deep, visceral dread I felt at the sight of it, as memories of my own house in flames flooded my mind. I had to fight to stay focused on the present moment. “Good luck,” I heard her say, and then she disappeared into the back of the house.

Muttering a prayer under my breath, I pulled the front door open. There were people right outside, all of whom turned to look at me. Heart pounding, I took hold of the guard's arms and began to drag him through the door, my back to the crowd outside. “He's hurt!” I yelled. “Someone help me!” The panic in my voice wasn't feigned, and within seconds people were at my side, helping me drag the man out of the building. Flames were now visible through the doorway, and I could hear frightened voices coming from every direction. “What's happening?” “Oh my God!” “The lab's burning!” Then the alarm sounded. It was much louder in real life than in the Weaver's dream, and it made my head ring. “The fetters!” someone yelled. “Save the fetters!” To say that nobody was paying attention to me was an understatement.

Once we were clear of the doorway, two sturdy men leaned down to pick up the guard and carry him away. I stayed with the body, pretending to help, using it to shield myself from view. The crowd parted for us, and soon we were past the frightened throng and rushing across open ground. The next few minutes were so wild—and so terrifying—that I lost any sense of where I was in the compound. But then I saw the stand of trees nearby, and I figured that was as good a place as any to make my exit. As we passed by it I broke off from my group, and headed toward the shadows of the tree. No one noticed. No one cared. The men carrying the body were focused on pulling their comrade to safety, and behind us fire was pouring out the doors and windows of the lab, and people were rushing around trying to deal with it. In the chaos that now filled the compound, I was a mere shadow.

I ducked behind the trunk of a massive forked oak and leaned back against it for a moment, trying to catch my breath. People were shouting, water was splashing, and I could hear the spurt of what
must be fire extinguishers. Whatever they were doing to fight the fire must not be working very well, because the compound was filled with blazing light, and I could feel the radiant heat of it even from where I stood.

Fetters would melt. Lab notes would burn. Test tubes would shatter. The whole damn place with its history of torture would soon be nothing but ash, like my home was ash. The image was deeply and primitively satisfying.

A hand fell on my shoulder; I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Easy,” Rita whispered. “Just me.”

The rush of relief I felt to have her there was undeniable. “Did you get the kids out?”

“Couldn't. Take a look.” She pointed toward the center of the compound.

While most of the Weavers were now fighting the fire, a small group of people stood halfway between the lab and the cabins, just watching. I hadn't expected that. In the Weaver's dream everyone had rushed to help out, each person in the compound having a specific role to play. Like cogs in a well-oiled machine. Granted, the dream had depicted an evacuation, not an actual fire, but still, it spoke to how the place was organized—

No, I realized. It spoke to the way the woman in charge
imagined
it was organized.

Damn
. Lesson two in how relying on dream knowledge could screw things up.

The spectators were positioned so that no one could leave the compound without being seen. Rita and I could probably have gotten out, since we were dressed like Weavers, but a horde of children in their trademark scrubs could never pull it off.

“There's nothing we can do for Moth now,” Rita murmured. “I'm sorry, but that's the truth. We need to get out of here while we can.”

“I'm not leaving her,” I snapped.

But I had no idea how to get those people to move out of the way. What we needed was a new distraction, something that would jar
them out of spectator mode and send them running elsewhere. Anywhere. I tried to think of a way to do that, but I couldn't come up with any ideas, other than an explosion. And we didn't have the materials needed to produce one of those. I inventoried our supplies in my head, hoping that something would spark an insight, but the only things we had with us were stuff we'd packed for the break-in. Nothing useful.

I thought of Moth sitting miserably against the fence during our second secret chat, whispering to me how she would rather die than stay in this place one more day, and my heart clenched in sympathy. I couldn't just abandon her. I couldn't.

Then I remembered something else I had on me. Something that hadn't been stored with our regular supplies. Slowly a plan took shape in my head, and yeah, it was a bit crazy, but it might work. And I wouldn't have to fight with armed guards or stand inside a burning building to pull it off.

“Watch the dorm,” I ordered Rita. “As soon as you can break the kids out, do it, and lead them out of here. I'll catch up with you later.”

“What—” she began.

But I was already gone, sprinting toward the stables.

The horses were upwind of the fire, and they had no direct view of the lab, so though they'd heard the commotion and smelled the smoke, they hadn't gone into panic mode yet. A few were whinnying nervously, but grooms were working to calm them down, and thus far everything was under control.

As I approached the building I slowed to a walk, dropping behind it so no one would see me. It seemed to me the nervous whinnying increased slightly in volume. Now I could hear the grooms talking, trying their best to instill calm in their charges. “Whoa girl, easy now . . .” “It's okay, don't worry, we won't let anything hurt you. . . .”

I moved a bit closer. The volume of the equine protests increased. There was a loud bang. Someone cursed.

Closer.

The horses started to buck and thrash in their stalls. High pitched
squeals split the night. I heard objects crashing loudly to the ground, wood splitting, grooms yelling. A wave of guilt sickened me, but I stood my ground. The horses weren't being hurt, they were just scared. Their fear would fade as soon as its cause left the vicinity.

Or so I hoped.

The ruckus in the stable had become loud enough now to draw attention, and some of the Weavers came running to see what the trouble was. Unlike the fire, this catastrophe wasn't playing out in the open, which meant that anyone who wanted to know what was going on had to head this way. And the spectators came. They came. Not all of them, but enough to clear the way to the gate.

I looked over to the dormitory and saw Rita standing in front of it, keys in hand.
What the fuck?
she mouthed, when she saw that I was looking at her. I lifted the wildlife fetter out of my shirt just far enough for her to see it, then pointed toward the dormitory. As long as I was close to the horses, they would try to get away. She looked at me a moment longer, nodded her approval, then turned her attention to the key ring.

As I started to run toward her, the ground trembled. It only lasted a second, but that was enough to awaken memories of Mystic Caverns collapsing around me. I focused all my attention on Rita, trying to shut the memories out. She tried a few keys, with no success, then decided to kick in the door instead. She struck it right beside the doorknob, with enough force that the frame began to split. Then she kicked again and it gave way, bits of shattered wood flying everywhere as the door slammed open.

Lightning struck nearby with a deafening crack; it was so close that I could feel the electricity prickle my scalp. What the hell was going on? The weather had been calm when we'd entered the compound. Then the ground began to buck and heave, so violently that I lost my footing and fell to my hands and knees. Gasping, I looked at the dormitory, hoping that Rita was doing better than I was. There were children pouring out of the door now, headed toward the gate, many of them clutching food in their arms. Rita herself was staring at
something in my direction, unable to move. I followed her gaze to the tops of the trees right behind me, and saw to my wonder—and horror—that they were all sprouting leaves, fresh green leaves, that grew to full size as we watched, then turned red or orange or yellow and fell to the ground, making way for new ones.

She looked at me, then at the mutating treetops, then back at me. There was fear in her eyes.

What the hell was happening?

I struggled back to my feet, and as I started to run toward her, rain began to fall from the cloudless sky. Not normal rain, but a dark, viscous liquid, that looked and smelled like blood. Suddenly I remembered the fetters we'd left behind, now in the heart of the blazing fire. Had the flames somehow triggered them, so that all the energy they contained was pouring into the compound? Lightning cracked again, and I saw a white-hot bolt strike one of the trees, splitting its trunk in two. A massive limb came crashing down right next to me, and I slipped in a puddle of the sticky red rain, almost going down again. As I grabbed at a branch to steady myself I could feel the bark crawling beneath my fingertips, and I let go of it quickly. The whole world had gone mad, and nothing within it was stable or solid any more.

Rita met me at the base of the dormitory stairs. Her face was streaked with red from the unnatural rain, and the terror in her eyes reflected what was in my heart. She grabbed me by the arm and we started to run. By now the ground was muddy—a thick, unnatural mud, that clung to our feet like glue—and the earth heaved repeatedly beneath our feet, as if we were running across the stomach of a living creature.

What had we done?

The gate was standing open when Rita and I reached it. Most of the children had passed through it ahead of us, but a few of the smaller ones were huddled together in fear just inside it. Rita grabbed up the smallest one and yelled for the others to get moving. The plan was for them to follow the road as long as they could, and abandon it only when forced to by pursuit . . . but there would be no pursuit tonight.

Suddenly I heard a horse screaming. I glanced toward the stable and saw that several animals had broken out into the pasture. As I watched, two of them fell to their knees, then collapsed full length upon the ground. I knew in my gut they were dying—they were all dying—and I had caused it. Insects began to swarm into the compound, wasps and bees pouring out of their hives, flying madly through the bloody rain, all sense of direction gone, a whirlwind of wings and buzzing and venom-tipped stings that swept through the compound like a twister.

“Jesse!” Rita grabbed me by the arm. “We have to go!”

Shuddering, I started to turn away from the horror that the compound had become, but out of the corner of my eye I saw something that chilled me to my core, and I turned to look at it. Against a sky seared white by lightning, a single spot of darkness had appeared, a terrible black void that sucked in all light, and it was slowly expanding, taking on the shape of a man—