In Dreams (23 page)

Annie hugs me and then Sebastian.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says. “Maybe we can go to the movies.”

As they leave, Mom comes in.

“Aphrodite and Nico have the guest room. Sebastian can bunk in with Grandpa if he wants. Once Aphrodite moves out, he can take her room. Or I’m more than happy to make up the sofa bed in the office on the second floor. You know, maybe that would be better anyway. Sebastian, you’d have more privacy. The mattress is a little lumpy, but it’s just for a couple of nights.”

“That sounds great.”

Mom goes to fix up his room. Sebastian faces me. He reaches out and plays with my hair, wrapping a curl around his index finger. “I can’t believe I’m here, touching you.”

I realize I can’t even articulate how unbelievable this is. All of it. But then, I didn’t become mortal.

“Regrets?”

“None.”

I touch one of his bruises. “These don’t heal so fast here.”

“That’s okay. I can do this here.” And he leans over and kisses me, and I feel my insides melt into a puddle.

I sigh. Life is kind of working out. I’m hopeful with Morpheus around that my mom is over her sleeping illness. I have the man of my dreams. Annie has Henry. Now if only Epiales would stay away.

Mom pokes her head in. “I left a toothbrush and toothpaste on your bed. The bathroom is across the hall.”

He stands, kisses the top of my head, and says, softly, “Good night.”

I change into my pajamas and then settle into bed. I stare at the ceiling. I realize I will no longer have Sebastian’s voice to guide me. My dreams will somehow be lonelier. But now that I know how to lucidly dream, now that I know my own power, now that I have met my father, I think that maybe, at last, I can sleep and dream like a normal person.

But my insomnia remains. I toss and turn. I think about Sebastian. He’s right upstairs. I consider sneaking up there. But
he
needs to sleep. He’s mortal now, and he needs to heal. Plus, for the first time my
dad
is in my house. I realize I can get in trouble now. Like he might ground me if I get caught. I smile at the idea. Grandpa and Mom have spoiled me my whole life. And I’m basically a good kid—Annie and I have been to parties and stuff, but . . . we’ve just never been the kind to do things to get ourselves grounded. She’s always been focused on getting a soccer scholarship. And I just never had a reason to do anything crazy. But now Annie and I both have boyfriends. I wonder if that’s all about to change. Then again, Henry wanted to get home before curfew. So maybe not.

Thinking about the
kind
of trouble I can get in with Sebastian makes me laugh to myself. I take my iPod from my nightstand, pop in the earbuds, and click on my classical music playlist. At the soft music of
Nocturnes
, I finally feel sleepy.

I am in the hallway of many doors. I look down at my hands. I do not have my key ring. I approach the first door I see. But with no key, how can I open the lock?

The door is made of bamboo reeds. I touch the handle. I find that the knob turns. I smile. Own your power, Iris. I can now open the doors without a key. All my dreaming doors are unlocked.

I walk into the dreaming room. It’s a beach. Someplace like Fiji. I’m dressed in a bikini. I walk on soft white sand, warm to my feet but not hot, to the water’s edge. The water crests and waves crash softly at my feet, ribbons of foam dancing around me. I wade in to my waist, the sun kissing my face. The water is so clear, I can see tropical fish darting and dashing around me. A blue angelfish comes so close, I think it would let me touch it if I dared.

I sink down into the water and start to float. I turn around and see Sebastian on the shore. His voice no longer leads me, but I can still dream about him.

He wades into the water and swims to me. He dives underwater and playfully grabs my legs, surfaces, and says, “I’m a shark.”

Standing up, he kisses me. I love the feeling of our wet bodies pressed together.

I look at the horizon. It’s nearly sunset, the sun an orange glowing ball, sinking into the sea.

We watch it dip below our line of sight and then we walk out of the water. A blanket is on the beach, and we sit on it, his arm around me. Everything is perfect.

Only suddenly, I can’t breathe. I look at Sebastian with terror on my face. I am suffocating. An unseen attacker’s hands are around my throat.

I bolt awake. My room is dark, which isn’t how I left it. I look over at my computer. The power is off. It’s then I realize the house is completely silent. No central heat running in the chilly December night. No sounds. Our power is out.

I put my hands to my neck, trying to reassure myself that I’m okay, trying to steady my breathing. But I have the creeping realization that someone is in my room.

Fighting panic, I scream for my father, but a man’s hand slips over my mouth.

“Quiet, Iris, you wouldn’t want to wake Daddy now, would you?” In the darkness, I see two eyes, glowing slightly, and they are stormy mirrors. Epiales.

He rips me from my bed, pulling me hard and fast and dragging me along the floor. His arms are so powerful that my feet are two inches off the floor, my toes barely scraping the carpet. He opens my bedroom door, hauls me down the hallway, and tosses me into the living room. In the living room, by the faint light from the window, I see another figure
dressed in black. He has my aunt tied to a chair. Nico is lying unconscious—or dead—on the floor. I would expect Aunt Aphrodite to be crying, but instead, it’s like watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. Her eyes are sparking continuously with her fury.

Epiales sneers. “Always such a hothead, Aphrodite, dear. You should learn to control that temper of yours.”

“You wait. You’ll wish for death, you bastard. You’ll wish you were mortal so your pain can end.”

In another minute, Grandpa is there, roused from sleep, white hair a fright—he needs a haircut—Yankees shirt and boxers on. I am so thankful Annie didn’t sleep over, and that Dr. Koios—though I’ve taken to calling him Uncle Koi now—drove home to Jersey.

That leaves just my mother and father and Sebastian to be dragged into this nightmare—only it’s not a nightmare. I just wish that it was.

But an unfamiliar male voice shouts from back near my mother’s bedroom, “Morpheus and his woman are not in the bed!”

“Impossible!” Epiales shouts back. He pulls a black gun from his waistband and hands it to his henchman. “If any of them move, use it.” Then he runs toward my mom’s bedroom.

When he comes back, the rage is evident. His mirrorlike eyes are glowing and flashing. I can sense the hatred and tension mounting. The air is so electric between the immortals that I’m sure if a match was lit, the room would erupt into flames.

Epiales runs to Aphrodite. He grabs her face. “Tell me where they are.”

She spits in his face.

He slaps her.

“Tell me or the next bit of pain I deliver will be to your precious niece.”

Her eyes glow in the dimness. “I have no idea. And Hades may protect you now, but when Zeus finds out that you have dared to lay a hand on me, you will wish yourself in Tartarus. You will
beg
to be there to end your suffering. You will wish to drown in the River Styx.”

Suddenly, in through the front door bursts my father, four soldiers I have never seen before, and Sebastian. They are dressed in black sweaters and black pants, black fisherman caps on their heads.

A gun goes off, and I scream and crouch down behind a chair. I hear crashing and punches being thrown and landing. Sebastian throws one of Epiales’s soldiers against the bookcase, and the entire thing
falls on top of them, books flying and Aphrodite’s knickknacks breaking. She’s going to be even more angry. It’s a wonder anything in my living room has survived these last weeks.

Then Epiales grabs me, pulls me to my feet, and holds a knife to my throat. I feel the blade slice my skin slightly, feel the warmth of my own blood in the faintest of trickles.

“Stop!” My father orders his men to hold back. His eyes flash, and I feel heat emanating from him, warming the chilly room.

“That’s more like it,” Epiales says.

I can see Sebastian’s face—he’s seething.

“Release her. Or there will be war, Epiales. Hades and Zeus will not approve,” Morpheus commands.

“There won’t be a war. This ends here. Relinquish your realm to me.”

I swallow. That’s what they meant about my being a pawn. I knew it was more than my humanity he hated. He wanted something. My father’s world. This has all been about the power.

“Never, brother.”

“Oh, you
will
hand me the keys to your realm. You’re so foolish, Morpheus. The first time I saw her in the Underworld, when I realized who she
was, I celebrated. You, the mighty Morpheus, have a weakness. And not just any weakness. A
woman
first, and then lo and behold, a daughter.”

Epiales laughs like a madman. “What a fool you are. A balance of power between dreams and nightmares has existed since the dawn of time, and there was not a crack to be had, nothing for me to use to change that. And then you, Morpheus, you showed your Achilles’ heel.”

I realize Epiales and Morpheus know the
real
Achilles.

“There is a reason we don’t associate with mortals anymore, Morpheus. That’s so we don’t
long
for their lives. That we don’t find ourselves torn by the decisions we must make—torn by
sentiment
.” He spits the word. “Sentiment. You disgust me. Here you are, you a
god
, heartbroken over a woman. Do you know how pathetic that is? We are
gods
.
Gods!
And nothing should be more important to us than ruling. Than power. Than our realms. Not a woman, and
most
especially, not your daughter—who shouldn’t even exist!”

“Release her.” My father’s voice is steady.

“You know, I could have killed her before. It wouldn’t have been hard at all—these mortals die so
easily. But it is
so
much better this way. This has been absolutely simple. And fun. Truly fun.”

“Epiales, I’m warning you.” Morpheus’s eyes are flashing, lighting the room.

“Yes, well, to just kill her and take your realm would incite war. Hades and Zeus would not approve. But if you
gave
me your realm, gave it to me of your own free will . . . now, who can argue with that? So it was better to lure you to your poor defenseless child who was in danger. A child who didn’t even know who her daddy was. A child in turmoil and confusion. After all these centuries, I know you so well, brother.”

I hate hearing him tormenting my father like this.

“I watched you these years. The time has flown by like
minutes
in terms of an immortal. I stood by patiently and watched as you protected her, kept vigil over her. Your judgment was impaired. You started to believe you could have both a mortal family
and
a realm in the netherworld. You
cannot
have both! I will make the choice simple for you: give me your realm. And you can have your family. Alive.”

“Don’t, Morpheus.” I find my voice. He can’t. He can’t let Epiales rule the mortal world’s subconscious and turn every night, every dream, into a nightmare.

“You can’t be a part of my life, Morpheus. I don’t want you here, I don’t want you as a father.” I know how much my father has given up for me, how devoted he is to me. So my only choice is to lie. To lie and hope he believes me.

“Shut up!” Epiales presses the knife to my throat. But I know he won’t kill me—he can’t. If he does, he’ll have nothing to bargain with.

“No, Morpheus,” I say, “you can’t come into my life after almost seventeen years and just pretend, like, now we’re a family. What? After this it will go back to the way it was before? You occasionally taking the form of a Santa or a janitor? It wasn’t good enough then, and it’s not good enough now. Go back to the Underworld where you belong.” I practically choke on the words.

“You don’t mean that,” Aunt Aphrodite says, sniffling from her chair.

“I do.” I look directly at Morpheus. “I don’t want you—you’re no father to me.”

My father’s face pales, and he clenches his jaw. “Iris . . . you’re my
child
.”

The pain in his voice rips at me, but I shake my head. “Go back to where you belong. Let me be an ordinary girl. An ordinary fatherless girl. Like I always was.”

“Bitch!” Epiales says. He hasn’t expected this hand. I smile. He shoves me to the floor and kicks me as hard as he can.

From behind him, my mother—who has come out of nowhere—swings a ceramic lamp down on his head. He barely flinches, but he’s distracted long enough for my father to tackle him. They slam into the living room wall, cracking the plaster.

Sebastian says to Epiales’s men, and to my father’s, “Leave them. This has always been between the brothers. They need to settle it.”

One of Epiales’s men tries to move, and Sebastian punches him in the jaw. “Leave them,” he shouts, “or you will answer to Hades and Zeus.”

The soldiers back off. Everyone now watches the fight between the two brothers.

Morpheus and Epiales trade brutal blows. They fall on the coffee table and shatter it—along with some of Aphrodite’s beloved snow globes. She shrieks.

Grandpa moves to the front door and opens it. After wrestling and punching each other, Morpheus and Epiales crash through the doorway. They somersault down the stone front steps and land on the lawn. Sebastian, the respective soldiers of dreams and nightmares, and Grandpa and Mom run out. I dash to the kitchen, get a knife, and cut Aphrodite free.

She kneels at Nico’s side. He has a massive goose egg on the side of his head, but he’s breathing.

“He tried to defend me. God, when he comes to, I’m going to have so much explaining to do.”