Hunted Dreams (13 page)

“Is he a Hunter, too?”

“Dude, he’s a guy! Gabriel is a just a Psychic with some combat training.”

Down below, women started jumping from their standing positions. One-by-one, these young women of all shades, shapes, and sizes launched their bodies forward. The older woman calmly measured each jump and marked information on the clipboard she wielded.

The leg muscles these women must have to jump so fast, so far; their athleticism defied physics.

“Don’t let the pretty faces fool you,” Berto whispered. “They’d kill your ass dead before you could finish asking for a date.”

“I’d never date one of them,” Reed said coldly.

“Man, pipe down! I’ll tell Mari you said that, though.”

After a few minutes, the women started practicing different kinds of jumps, stationary and running, and two even ran laps around the track, whether for fun or as punishment Reed couldn’t know.

The wind sighed through his hair. Far below them, bodies of all shapes—gangly, lithe, and round—twisted and wound over the rubber track like fish through water. Their confident postures, their natural grace, the order and discipline of their movements soothed the eye. He leaned forward to try and catch a snatch of conversation as it fluttered by on the wind.

“Hey!” someone below shouted, and Reed started guiltily. He looked around for the source of her distress . . . and saw someone pointing a thin, brown arm in his direction. Heads turned, eyes glared, and the wind kissed his lips.

For a brief moment, no one said a word. Then, the first woman yelled something, and a couple of the women pivoted and started running toward the bleacher stairs.

“Shit!” Berto yelled. “Come on!” He grabbed the sleeve of Reed’s T-shirt and yanked him toward the side.

“I’m not jumping down!” Reed protested as Berto hopped atop the metal ledge flanking the structure.

“Damn straight you are!” Berto snarled. “You can make the fall. I swear!” With that, he leapt over the side.

Reed ran to the side and watched Berto fall . . . and fall. A few seconds later, Berto hit the ground with a thump Reed could hear. He rolled a couple of times and stumbled to his feet. How the hell did he do that? Was that even possible? Why wasn’t he . . .?

Reed heard the sound of steps pounding up the interior staircase. Trapped between those amazing athletic women and a potentially fatal fall.

“Come on!” Berto shouted up from below, waving. He looked unharmed.

Footsteps slammed closer and closer to the top level, where Reed stood stupidly, heart playing xylophone on his ribs.
Do it, do it
, he told himself, stepping onto the ledge. Below, Berto shouted at him to hurry.

A scant ten feet from where he stood, balancing on the ledge, a woman burst through the doorway. The curvy woman had a strong, light brown face, framed by an uneven halo of frizzy black hair. Dark brown eyes met his, and she laughed at him. She took a step forward, still grinning.

He jumped.

Chapter 7

“That motherfucking hurt,” Reed growled on the way home. He was quite certain he’d broken his left ankle.

“Quit whining,” Berto said, and grinned to show he was kidding—mostly. “You’d be fine if anyone had ever taught you to fall. After you heal up, me or Paul can teach you some fall techniques. Who knows? Maybe that’s why Quina told me to take you there.”

Probably orchestrated the whole thing
, Reed thought.

Katana opened her eyes and saw nothing. She blinked, or felt herself blink, but no picture materialized before her eyes.

I’m blind in this one
, she thought calmly. She sat on a cold, hard surface, legs poking straight out in front of her. Her eyes burned as she strained them, trying to find the oily red pool . . .

This isn’t that place
, she realized.

Eyes staring straight ahead, she placed her hands on either side of her thighs. The ground below her spread out, cold, dusty, and marked with the occasional pebble. Concrete? She laughed at herself.
No, Angeleno
, she thought,
the whole world isn’t paved
. The ground felt too smooth, too irregular, not grainy enough for concrete.

She didn’t think she was outside. The air around her felt heavier, staler than what she usually breathed in the outdoors. But how could that be?

This is a dream
, she reminded herself. Anything
can be
.

She patted herself down. A thin cotton shirt, jeans, her sword resting in a scabbard on her cloth belt. On a whim, she ran her hands over her hair, smooth underneath a coating of dust. Brown hair, she thought—yeah, definitely brown. If she focused, she could vaguely recall seeing her reflection in various smooth surfaces. She placed a finger to the right side of her nose. Sure enough, she felt the poke of a small nose stud.

Moving slowly, cautiously, she swiveled until she was on all fours. She crawled forward like an infant, constantly patting the ground in front of her. Grit crunched under her hand and pebbles poked into her knees as she inched along. After a moment, she tasted dust on her lips.

Her hand dropped downward. Katana curled her hand around the ground’s edge, beyond which stretched a breezy nothing.

“I knew it,” she whispered. Crawling, she followed her hand as it smoothed along the edge. Not a minute later, she encountered a wall of rock.

A ledge. She sat on a rocky ledge somewhere. Maybe in a cave? She moved again, this time following the wall till it reached the other side of the rock shelf, maybe fifteen feet away.

But what lay below?

She lowered herself to her stomach, took a deep breath, and reached her arm down beyond the ledge.

Something grabbed her.

She screamed, and the sound reverberated wildly in the cavern, bouncing along rock, doubling and redoubling, echoing echoes until the sound throbbed inside her skull.

“Katana!” a voice shouted, and its loudness joined the cacophony of her own cry.

“Reed?” she gasped.

“Help me up,” he said, and she grasped his arm while he half-pulled and half-scrabbled up to her level.

He lay there, then, panting. She reached down to touch him and rested her hand on what she thought was his back.

“You’re not naked,” she whispered, stroking the cotton of his shirt.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he said, and sat up. His head bumped her chin. He swore and fumbled a hand to her face. He rested his dusty hand against her cheek and stroked her chin with his thumb. “Sorry,” he said.

I’m not
. She thought she closed her eyes.

“Can you turn on the lights?” he asked her.

“No,” she sighed. “We’re in some kind of cavern or something. No light. But come back here, away from the ledge.” They scuttled backward until their backs rested against the rock wall. There, Reed groped for her hand and held it fast.

“I hope you realize my scream back there was one of attack rather than terror,” she remarked.

Reed chuckled and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I was terrified for my life.”

“Just so we both know.”

After a moment, he squeezed her fingers. “I’ve been worried about you,” he said quietly.

God, so have I
, she thought, but that seemed an inappropriate reply. She spoke instead another truth. “I missed you.” She thought of telling him how she looked for him in every dream, waiting to hear his voice, hoping to smell his salty scent.
You’re the eye in the middle of this storm
, she wanted to say, but didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Come here, fierce woman,” he said, and drew her to his chest. With a sigh, she leaned against him. A line of tension in her chest broke and whooshed out of her on a heavy breath. Throughout visions of the unknown, episodes of terror, and the horror of not remembering who she was, she remained strong. She fought, sometimes with her sword, most times with her voice and wits. And once every few dozen dreams, she got to relax into this big, sexy, nice-smelling man.

“I believe you,” she told him.

“Good,” he said. “What about?”

“That you’re a real person,” she said, and placed her hand against his chest. She liked the way his voice growled in his chest like kindly thunder.

Kindly thunder?
Sheesh, Kat, you really do need a break
. She smiled. Smiling came much easier with Reed around.

He chuckled, and her head shook against him. “Such flattery. What convinced you?”

“Your aquaphobia,” she replied. “I mean, if I created a representative of my subconscious, why would I make it a man with a terror of water?”

“It’s not a terror,” he grumbled. “It’s more like a disinclination.”

She grinned, reached out a hand, and placed her fingertips just below his left jaw. “Plus this mole,” she said. “I mean, a mole? Wouldn’t my hero have a cleft in his chin and no body imperfections?”

“Who you callin’ imperfect?” he scoffed, but she could hear the smile in his voice. He grasped her hand and held it there, flat against his jaw.

This is awfully cozy
, she thought as Reed’s heart thumped against her ear.

“But that begs the question,” she continued. “How did you get into my dreams?”

Reed took a deep breath. He released her fingers and ran his hand over her hair. “I have some ideas about all this,” he began.

She was quiet, waiting for him to continue. When he remained silent, she tapped his jaw with her finger. “I’m listening,” she prompted.

“I don’t know why I like the bossy ones.” He sighed.

She laughed weakly against him.
I’m stuck in a never-ending loop of nightmares, trying to survive, to remain sane, to remember who the stars I am. And then there’s Reed
. Maybe after she escaped this surreality, they could find each other and go out for coffee. She giggled slightly before putting a hand to her mouth.

“What do you know about the Broschi?” he asked her.

Katana hesitated. “Is that some kind of Italian dish?”

“Do Leeches mean anything to you?”

She shuddered. “They’ll probably feature in my next nightmare. Thanks. I hate bugs.”

Reed sighed against her. “Not the—Hold on. Do you have any memory of superhuman people in the real world, really strong, really fast, heal well? Psychic powers, empathic, all that?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“That’s it? ‘Nope’?”

She drew back in an effort to look at him, realized she couldn’t, and replaced her head on his chest. “What else do you want?”

“I’m talking superhuman beings, girl. A little shock might be in order.”

Katana wasn’t sure whether to laugh or growl. She ended up snorting. “I’m trapped in a nightmare world and visited once every day by this guy I’ve never met before. In my last dream, I was a centimeter tall and running around a giant dance floor while high-heeled giants tried to squish me. I eat superhuman beings for breakfast.”

Reed laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She relaxed her ire and her body against him again.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m living in a daze in the real world, dealing with these crazy people, and you’re stuck in here battling things way more whacked than I could imagine.”

God, I like this man
, she thought.

“I’m living in a house right now with these crazy superhuman beings,” he told her, and resumed stroking her hair. “They call themselves the Broschi, but they’re also known as Leeches.”

“So they somehow got you into my dreams?”

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “I think I’m doing this on my own.”

“Are you a crazy superhuman being like them?” she asked him, and brushed her fingers over his neck.

Reed tensed against her. His hand dropped from her hair. After a moment of silence, during which time his heart throbbed against her ear, he answered shortly, “Yeah.”

“If that’s how you get in here to see me, thank god,” she said, and patted his jaw.

“These Leeches do some pretty bad shit,” he told her, still tense against her.

“All right.”

“I mean like hurt other people.”

“Okay already—I get it. These Bruschettas are some big, bad bugs.”

“Broschi,” he corrected her, and then laughed and pressed her even more tightly against him.

“I know you’re not bad,” she reassured him, smiling.

“You don’t know anything of the sort,” he said.

“Don’t you dare invade my dream and then question my judgment!” She meant to snap it but couldn’t manage anything beyond a biting edge to her tone. “We’ve been in some, um, challenging environments, and I think I know you pretty well.”

“Says the woman who only recently started thinking of me as real,” he said.

Katana felt the cold of the rock under her behind wind upward into her head. “Recently for
you
,” she said quietly, all teasing gone. “You have no idea how long it feels in here. I’ve spun from dream to dream, always fighting, always endangered, always waiting for the pain and the terror. I haven’t had a lot of time to think, but I’ve done what I can when I have a moment or two. I feel I’ve known you for months and get to see you every few weeks, even though I know it’s once per day for you.”

Reed exhaled once, slowly. Then, gently, he placed his hand against her cheek and helped guide her face upward.

Knowing what to expect, Katana closed her eyes and stretched upward. Their lips met, albeit at an odd angle, but after a moment of adjustment, she found they fit very well together. As their lips moved against one another’s, she brushed her fingers along his stubbly cheek. Reed wrapped both arms around her, and she flowed against him.

After a moment, Reed pulled away very slightly and kissed her nose. “You feel warm and . . . good,” he murmured against her lips. She felt his moist breath against her face and inhaled the mintiness of his toothpaste.

“You feel real,” she whispered. She kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t want to leave you here,” he rasped. “I knew this place sucked, but I never really thought about you being here like that.”

I don’t want you to leave me, either
. She rubbed her face against his. “Then let’s try to find me.” She paused. “I think I come from Acton.”

He pulled back a bit. “You live in Acton?”

She shook her head. “Lived. I think I was born there.”

“That’s something. Did you remember a last name? Date of birth? Social security number?”

She smiled. “I’ll work on those last few. Maybe next time . . .”

“I’ll get on this,” he promised. “I’m going to find you, Katana. I have some ideas I need to check out.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She meant it to sound lighthearted, but her delivery sounded quiet and even.

Reed kissed her forehead. “You kick some nightmare butt and try to remember more, okay?”

After a quiet, dusty moment, Katana spoke up once again. “What do you do, Reed?”

“Not half of what I’d like to right now,” he teased, speaking to the top of her head. His breath stirred her hair. She grinned and tugged the sleeve of his shirt. “I got out of the army a little over a year ago,” he said. “Since then I’ve been doing landscaping here and there.”

“And now you’re living in a house with crazy superhuman bug people.”

“There’s that, yeah.”

“How come I think you’re leaving out a bunch of the story?”

“I think the superhuman psychics might have added a little bit of mystery and spice to an otherwise boring story.”

She waited for another moment and then sighed. “Next time I see you, you’ll tell me more, okay, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean about you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She felt the moment, her reprieve, squeezing closed like the covers of a storybook. Her arms tightened around Reed until he grunted.
If I hold on hard enough . . .

“I’ll miss you,” she breathed into his shirt.

“What?” he asked and she felt his chin touch the top of her head.

A loud
CRACK
sounded directly to Katana’s right. She started and pushed away from Reed to free her sword. After a moment’s struggle, she held it aloft in her right hand. It remained steady before her, although she could see nothing. The left side of her body burned with coldness.

“Reed, you okay?” she gasped.

Silence.

She swept an arm behind her and found nothing except a warm space on the rock where he had just sat. “Reed?” she repeated, but of course he was gone.

Reed tossed open his bedroom door. Clad in rumpled shorts and a white, sleeveless T-shirt, he strode quickly down the hallway, bare feet slapping the marble-cold floor. Mina appeared beside him, and he patted her head without stopping. A few doors down, he stopped and knocked a few times. A moment passed. He knocked again.