In Dreams (20 page)

“Thanks,” I whisper. I’ve lost about twenty-four hours. I think of my mother and Grandpa and Sebastian. What have those twenty-four hours been like for them?

Henry and Annie leave the room. I look around. I’m in a private room with a rose-covered border print about halfway up the drab cream-colored walls. Next to my bed is a faux-leather sleeper chair, with a blanket and a pillow on it. I guess my father and Aphrodite took turns keeping watch. There are flowers in vases—hyacinth and lilies of the valley and orchids, nothing ordinary. And snow globes are lined up on the windowsill. Clearly, Aphrodite has taken control of decorating.

My eyelids flutter. I fight it. But the medication is powerful. I feel as if I’m underwater. A numbness settles over me, a warm wash of well-being, but I know that’s the medication. My mind is screaming,
Get up
. But I cannot stay awake. I shut my eyes, then force them open again. If I go to the Underworld now, I will have even less control and power.

I will not fall asleep,
I say. I mutter it to myself, but then I realize I just
think
I’m saying the words. I’m actually just moving my lips with no sound coming out.

I can’t focus my pupils. And slowly, my world goes black.

I am in the hallway of many doors. The sconces are no longer here. It’s darker than it’s ever been. I squint to try to orient myself. I feel as if my legs are made of spaghetti. I stumble along, searching for something, as if I have misplaced . . . my keys!

I look down, and they are in my hand. I feel feverish. My cheeks are burning. The doors swim before my eyes, as if the entire hall is a mirage in a sandy desert, the dance of heat delusions, the shimmer of a false oasis.

I try to walk, but I stumble. Finally, I sit down on the floor. . . . I lean my head back against the cool rock. I press my cheek to it, grateful for its chilly surface.

I just need to rest. Just for a minute. Just for a minute . . .

And then I hear it.

Muffled. Far-off.

My mother’s voice, calling for me.

I try to stand, but my knees are too wobbly. I first clamber onto all fours, then, slowly and agonizingly, I pull myself up, inch by inch, hanging on to a doorknob and clawing my way upright.

I’m coming, I mouth. Why can’t I speak? Mommy, I’m coming.

But I realize I am not actually talking.

I lean against the wall for support and move in shuffling steps down the hall. I lean my face against each door, listening, resting, trying to remain upright. Finally, I arrive at the door I think my mother is behind. It is completely nondescript. A door like any door.

“Mommy?” I breathe. “Are you okay?”

The voice comes through the door. “Iris? Yes, Grandpa and I are fine.”

“Thank God.”

“Can you open the door? Get us out of here.”

My head swims. I realize I can no longer move my hands. Nothing works. My fingers won’t cooperate.

I’m so sorry, Mommy.

I think the words, but I don’t say them.

I feel as if someone is drawing thick velvet curtains in front of my eyes.

And then the hallway of many doors goes completely black.

17

We always know when we are awake that

we cannot be dreaming even though when

actually dreaming we feel all this may be real.

RUTH RENDELL

I
ris?” Morpheus is sitting in the chair beside my bed. “Iris? Wake up.”

I feel his strong hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes.

“You were tossing and turning. And moaning in your sleep, my sweet girl. Do you need your nurse?”

I groan. “I need to go
back
.”

“You went to the Underworld?”

I nod. “Mom is there. In the hallway of many doors.”

He swallows. He leans his head closer to me, pressing his forehead almost to mine. “Is she . . . ?”
He exhales to gather himself and chokes on the next word. “Okay?”

I am struck that he is a god, but he is also so . . . human in a way.

“She said she was. That she and Grandpa were together. I didn’t get to see her. She was behind a door. She asked me to unlock it. I . . . I passed out.” My failure weighs on me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Do not apologize. Do not. This is not your doing.” He exhales again. “The hallway is endless. The dream doors as infinite as the dreamers themselves.”

“But you’re the god of dreams. Go there and find her. Can’t you tell which door?”

“Epiales is playing a game. That door is part of your nightmare realm. It’s not
my
door. He’s a clever one, my devious brother. He’ll hide her in a nightmare. If we could get to that door again, we could get her and your grandfather back. If we can rescue them, Epiales will be furious. He’ll come here to the mortal world to try to seize them again. He’s more vulnerable here. We can definitely defeat him.”

“Get Dr. Koios. Bring him here. I can find her and Grandpa. I can do it.” My eyes sting. I wonder about Sebastian, too.

His face grows stern. “No. I have every member of my influence searching for them—and Sebastian.
He’s headstrong. My guess is he’s trying to cross the River of Sorrows to reach you, Iris. I have as many men as I can spare combing the banks of the river. They’ll enter the Underworld’s city gates and appeal to Hades on his throne. Now that I at least know your mother is unharmed, she will be found. I will go there myself. Epiales must be stopped. He’s gone too far this time.”

My gut throbs like I have a heartbeat there, then a shooting, stabbing pain attacks my upper-left abdomen—where my spleen is located. I know I need more pain medication soon.

“I found her because I’m your daughter.”

“I know—”

“No.” I try to raise myself up. It hurts too much. I press the Call button for my nurse. But I have to help him understand.

“Listen to me . . .” I swallow. “Dad.”

His eyes well at the word.

“I found her because I am
your
daughter, and I go to the Underworld, the netherworld, that dreamworld, when I dream. But I also found her because I am
her
daughter. I am bonded to her. All my life, she and Grandpa . . . and later Annie . . . they were all I had. I understand how this is so complicated. I don’t blame you. But the fact is, Mom, Grandpa, and I are
closer than most. I found her because of who I am. Part of
both
of you.” When I say it, I feel as if I finally understand who I am. I am no longer the daughter of some anonymous donor. I have
two
parents.

My nurse, Gladys, comes in with my pain shot. She smiles at my father and puts the shot into my IV line.

“Do you need anything else? Some ice chips?”

I shake my head.

My nurse checks all my IVs, presses a button on one machine, and leaves, turning off the overhead light on the way out. Morpheus leans back in the chair. I see the storms flashing in his eyes in the dimness of the room.

The medication fog settles over me, taking the edge off my pain.

“Please,” I say to him, before I return to my drug-induced sleep. “Let me go back. Bring Dr. Koios. I’ll find them.”

He takes one of my hands and strokes the back of it with his fingers. He turns it over and kisses my palm. Then he squeezes it and simply holds it in his. I marvel that he is here. And for the first time in my entire life, I fall asleep holding my dad’s hand.

When I wake up again, Aphrodite is in my room,
along with Dr. Koios and my father. I have lost all track of time, but outside the window it is pitch-black, a sprinkling of stars in the sky.

“She’s awake.” Aphrodite sighs. She sits down on my bed and puts a hand to my forehead. “Her fever is down.”

She immediately pulls a hairbrush out and starts gently working through my curls. Then she gets a washcloth and a basin of warm water. She washes my face and my neck. I decide that she and Nico should have a baby. She is definitely mom material.

I wonder what the nurses think of Aunt Aphrodite. She’s wearing the proverbial “little black cocktail dress,” with black seamed stockings and a pair of Louboutins. I can see the red on the sole when she crosses her legs. A single strand of pearls encircles her neck. I guess this is her attempt to tone it down, though I can’t help but notice she has on a massive diamond and sapphire ring—bigger than Princess Diana’s famous one, and three blingy bracelets on her wrist. I guess she can’t help herself.

But at least she’s left the tiara at home.

I look up at Morpheus. “Are you going to let me go back?”

He nods reluctantly. “With me.”

“And me,” says Aphrodite.

“And me,” says Dr. Koios.

“How is that possible?”

“I am Morpheus.” My father smiles, as if that is the simplest explanation in the world, and no more is necessary. “You aren’t going back alone. I cannot allow it. But I recognize your wisdom. You have the connection to them. You will be able to discern where they are faster than even I. The land of dreams is vast—almost infinite. The land of nightmares equally so. And Epiales is hiding them in
your
nightmares.” For the first time, I see the weight of his universe on his face, the vast responsibility of controlling the kingdom of dreams. Of warring with the prince of nightmares.

“Okay,” I breathe.

“How is your pain?” Aunt Aphrodite asks me.

“Hurts.” But if I’m going to go there and not collapse in the hallway, I need to put off my pain medication. So I manage a smile. “But not as bad.”

“Your white counts are still sky-high. Your spleen is still swollen. You will be very careful,” Dr. Koios says.

Morpheus nods. “If Koios says it is time for us to leave, then it is time for us to leave. I won’t lose . . .” He looks away and can’t finish the sentence.

“Okay.” But deep down, I know I’m not leaving without my mother and Grandpa.

Aphrodite goes to the door of my hospital room. They have chosen a time between rounds when the patients are supposed to be asleep. She shuts my door.

The three of them stand around my bed. We all hold hands and form a circle of sorts. Dr. Koios tells me, “Pain can take you out of deep relaxation. Just concentrate on my voice.”

“See you on the other side.” Morpheus grins at me. I think it is the first time I have seen his smile. His eyes flash in a different way.

As usual, Dr. Koios urges me into deeper relaxation. I find the beeping of my IVs distracting, and my skin crawls, like thousands of little bugs are skittering up my arms, thanks to my medication, so I have to concentrate harder than usual.