Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares (23 page)

“I don't understand,” Jonas said, standing. “Move on to what? Where are the other Poets?”

Alexander furrowed his brow. “Jarabec didn't explain it to you?”

“Jarabec's dead.”

The crudeness of the comment seemed to surprise him, but Alexander nodded. “I am aware,” he said. “But he had a job to do, one he obviously failed at.” He paused. “The Poets have disappeared,” Alexander continued. “Do you think there is only one reality? Two? There are infinite realities, Jonas. But only some can get to them. REM is restricted to the Dream World. You, when you're ready, would be restricted by none. Hiding is the only option you have left.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Jonas said, incredulous. “I'm not going to let REM get away with what he's done. Maybe you're the one who needs to step up. Actually help instead of pulling strings like some puppet master.”

Alexander's arm shot out, and he grabbed Jonas by the shirt and pulled him close. Jonas gasped, his toes just touching the floor. “It's time to move on,” Alexander said through gritted teeth. “You have no chance to win this. You'll only destroy more people. You'll destroy my daughter.”

Alexander unclenched his fist, and Jonas fell back a step. “You are alone,” Alexander told him, straightening his suit. “Focus on that the next time you dream.” He turned and walked out, leaving Jonas behind in a wake of loneliness.

Chapter Twenty-Five

J
onas left the Sleep Center
before
Sam could return. He left without checking in on Alan, a choice that attacked his conscience as he ran through the rain to the bus stop, heading back to the Eden Hotel. As he rode the bus, he lowered his hood, his neck wet around the collar. He wanted to go numb, but he continued to think about Alexander's words.

He turned to stare out the window at the passing streets, the people walking under their umbrellas, going about their lives with no knowledge of the battle going on in a shared dream consciousness and proving that ignorance truly was bliss.

Jonas felt a sting in his fingertips, like the sharp pain when trying to wake a limb that had fallen asleep. He lifted his hand, staring down at it. He wiggled his fingers, and then he realized the background had changed. He slowly lifted his head and saw he wasn't on the bus anymore. He was dreaming.

“What?” he said to himself, dumbfounded. He stood, looking around the park stretched out in front of him. A greenbelt with a stone fountain in the middle. He turned and saw his bus seat had become a bench, and sitting there, was Jarabec.

“Oh, my God,” Poet said, taking the spot next to him. “You're alive.”

Jarabec turned and smiled. “I'm a memory,” he said. “I'm what you wanted to see. What you created. Of course, if you look closer, you'd see the differences.”

Sure enough, Poet noticed the color of his eyes were pale and almost white. His mind was aware that his friend was indeed dead, and adjusted the image. “Why did I bring you here?” Poet asked. “How can this help me?”

Jarabec smiled, more pleasant than he had been when alive. More fatherly. “I suppose you had a question or two,” he told him, “but you can't find the answer. You're using my memory as a guide.”

Poet looked down at his lap. He was wearing his suit and bowler hat. “Alexander told me I'm supposed to be alone. Is that true? Am I really that dangerous to Sam?” He looked at Jarabec and found the man watching him. Jarabec nodded slowly.

It wasn't the answer Poet had been hoping for, and he swallowed hard. “But I love her,” he said quietly. “What if I can't let her go?”

“Then she'll die,” Jarabec replied simply. “And she'll be the ghost you dream about at night.” He paused. “So long as you exist, she won't be safe.”

“Then I have to destroy REM,” Poet said, looking sideways at Jarabec. “I have to figure out a way to end REM's control over the dreamscape. Advice?” But Poet had accepted the fact that Jarabec wasn't real. He turned away and began to walk across the grass, opting to spend an extra second or two in his dream.

“I told you there will come a time,” Jarabec said, surprising Poet. The boy turned around and found his Dream Walker was standing, suddenly close to him. “You will have a choice,” Jarabec said. “You won't always be alone, and you don't have to be.” Jarabec pressed his lips together sympathetically, and he put his hand on Poet's shoulder. “But maybe you just don't belong in this world anymore.”

Jonas gasped and sat up in the bus seat. A woman stood in the aisle, her hand on his shoulder right where Jarabec had been touching him. “Sorry,” she said, looking startled by Jonas's reaction. “I didn't know if the seat was taken. I'll…” She quickly moved down the aisle, opting for another seat. Jonas blinked rapidly, getting his bearings on the moving bus.

He'd been daydreaming, a light sleep. An easy sleep. There was power in that. A way to show up undetected, slide in and out of realities. Maybe this was the advantage he needed to defeat REM. Jonas started bouncing his leg, anxious to get to the hotel. He needed to talk to Marshall. He had a plan.

Jonas crossed the busy
city street, his sneakers splashing in deep puddles as he approached the door of the Eden Hotel. Hillenbrand was off, so there was a stranger in the usual uniform. Jonas nodded to him, ready to walk past when a car squealed its tires, pulling up to the curb.

He turned and saw Samantha's father's car. For a moment, his heart stopped, but then Sam got out, shooting Jonas a concerned, and yet, totally pissed off look.

“What the hell!” she said. She tossed her keys to the valet, but didn't bother to take the ticket he held out to her. She walked up to Jonas and grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a hug. “You just left,” she said, her breath warm on his neck. “I was worried.”

Jonas closed his eyes at her touch, and murmured an apology. When he pulled back, he watched her, seeing in her face what he already felt in his heart. When he opened his mouth to talk, she put her hand over it.

“I'm not going anywhere,” she said. “So save your breath. Now let's get inside. There's something I need to talk to Molly about.”

Jonas peeled Sam's hand off his face, making her laugh, and then gripped her fingers tightly to pull her inside the lobby of the Eden Hotel.

Marshall stood at the front desk, not seeming at all surprised to see Jonas running up, Samantha next to him. He didn't bother to greet Sam, the formalities of their carefully constructed waking life pointless now.

Sam tugged on Jonas's hand. “I see Molly,” she said, pointing to the restaurant where the assistant was discussing something with the boy at the host stand. “I'll be back.”

She pulled away and jogged off before Jonas could find out what her plan was. When he turned, Marshall crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Hope you filled out the health insurance paperwork,” Marshall said, “because when Alexander finds out about you and his daughter, he's going to—”

“Yeah, he already knows,” Jonas said, waving his hand. “He told me to stay away from her. I didn't. But that's not what I need right now.” Jonas leaned his elbows on the desk, checking around to make sure no one was listening. “REM killed Jarabec. He has my brother. And he's seen Sam. He knows about her now.”

Marshall's expression faltered, and his eyes found where Sam was talking to Molly in the restaurant. “How did he—”

“He took over a body at the Sleep Center,” Jonas said. “It was…it was fucking intense, okay. REM saw Sam and said he would kill her.”

Marshall straightened. “He'll set his Night Stalkers on her when she falls asleep,” he said. “That's usually how he does it, especially the ones he kills for sport.”

“I have to face him tonight,” Jonas said. “There's no more time.”

Marshall flinched. “You can't do that. You're not prepared for that.”

“It doesn't matter,” Jonas said. “Because if I don't, he'll not only kill Sam, he'll find all of the Dream Walkers and systematically wipe them out. Without them, no dreamers are safe. The Waking World won't be safe as REM takes each soul and comes out here and creates misery. And when he does, you're all fucked.”

Marshall glared down at him as if he hated that Jonas was making sense. He lifted his head and looked around the Eden Hotel, taking in its details as he thought. “What do you need from me?” he asked.

“First, you have to find someone to keep Sam awake,” Jonas said, checking back to where she stood with Molly. The two were arguing about something. “She can't fall asleep,” Jonas told Marshall. “Not while I'm in the dream. They'll use her against me.”

“I'm sure I can arrange something.”

“Thank you,” Jonas said, pressing hands together.

“Of course,” Marshall added, a deep vibrato in his voice. “You would be sorely underestimating her. And underutilizing her.”

Jonas furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Her father is a Dream Walker,” he said. “Did you really think she wouldn't have his same talents?”

Jonas turned to look at Sam again, remembering how brave she'd been in the dream. How there was a glow around her at one point. “She's not a Dream Walker,” Jonas said. “She could never be that cruel.”

Marshall sniffed a laugh. “Perhaps. Alexander has certainly done his best to keep her from that world. But I'd think you'd be surprised how clever our young Birnam-Wood is. Could be you're the one who's in the dark.”

Jonas turned back to Marshall, confused. He ran his hand through his damp hair, sorting through memories until he realized he was running out of time. In the end, it didn't matter. Even if Sam was the baddest of all badass Dream Walkers, he still wouldn't want her in danger. Not because she was a girl, but because he loved her too much and refused to prove Jarabec right. Loving her would be the surest way to get her killed. Jonas wouldn't let that happen.

“No,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “Marshall, I can't have her there. If nothing else, it'll distract me. You have to keep her awake.”

Marshall nodded, even though it was clear he didn't agree with the decision.

“And once that's dealt with,” Jonas said, leaning over the counter. “I'll need all of them. All of the Dream Walkers.”

To this, Marshall scoffed. “They're not your personal army,” he said. “Flint and the others are already concerned that Jarabec had not been guiding you properly. They wanted proof of your abilities before they commit to protecting you. And as far as they've seen, you've proved disappointing.”

The comment stung, but Jonas held Marshall's gaze, determined to convince the Dream Walkers that he could do this. Marshall was his only chance to get through to them.

“You took too long to find your power,” Marshall continued. “And Jarabec paid the price. The Dream Walkers will not forgive that. They'd just as soon kill you to keep REM from getting his hands on you.” Marshall pursed his lips, studying Jonas before speaking again. “Luckily for you, I don't agree. Jarabec believed in you. You're not like the other Poets. They were careless and unruly, at times. But you, my boy, are just like your mother. You think with your heart. I'm not sure REM knows how to deal with a Poet like that.”

“So you'll talk to the Dream Walkers?” Jonas asked. “You'll change their minds? Because I can't fight REM, the Night Stalkers, and…my brother all by myself. I need help.”

“I'll do what I can,” Marshall agreed. “But the minute you arrive in the Dream World, REM and his guard will be waiting. Draw them away from the city. There's an area in the woods. A cathedral of trees that's been used to host battles before.”

“The Grecian Woods,” Jonas said. “Jarabec told me about it.”

“You know the place,” Marshall said after a moment. “Good. I'll talk to the others and explain. But Jonas…” His coldness slipped away slightly as he put his hand on Jonas's shoulder. “We'll only be there to fight off the Night Stalkers. It's nearly impossible for us to get close enough to REM. But he'll be waiting for you.”

Jonas felt queasiness at the idea of being alone to fight REM. “Yeah, I understand,” he said.

“You'll also have to deal with Alan,” Marshall added. “REM would be stupid to not use him to rile you up. To distract you. You'll have to kill your brother.”

Never
, Jonas thought, knowing it was true. He would never kill his brother. “I'll handle it,” Jonas said, brushing off Marshall's hand. The manager looked doubtful, but then tilted his head as if he understood.

“Then I'll see to the arrangements, Mr. Anderson,” he said. “Now get out of my face.” Marshall spun away and picked up the desk phone, ignoring Jonas's existence.

Jonas stared at his back for a moment, and then left to get Sam. Although he knew that Marshall didn't agree with everything he was planning, he at least agreed to help. When Jonas entered the dining room, both Sam and Molly looked over at him before exchanging an awkward glance with each other. Jonas stopped in front of them, trying to read their expressions.

“I'm sorry about Jarabec,” Molly said quietly, and Jonas's heart sank. Of course that was what they'd been talking about. Jonas worried that maybe Molly blamed him, too. “And I'm also sorry about Alan,” she added.

Jonas didn't want to accept her sympathies. In fact, he didn't want to talk anymore at all. He nodded to her, and then motioned for Sam to leave with him. She murmured something to Molly he didn't quite catch, and then Jonas led the way to the elevator.

His head hurt, whether from stress or the drug he'd been given earlier, he wasn't sure. He rubbed his forehead as they waited.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” he lied. “What were you and Molly talking about?” he asked, looking sideways at her. She seemed confused by the question, and Jonas had an attack of guilt. He wasn't going to let her into the dreamscape, but he couldn't tell her that. She had no idea how much he cared about her.

“Nothing,” Sam said. “I mean, I told her about the Sleep Center. But that's it. Why?”

The elevator doors slid open and Jonas and Sam got inside. “Just curious,” Jonas said, and pressed the button for the basement.

“What was up with Marshall?” she asked. Jonas turned to her and smiled.

“Nothing,” he said. Sam narrowed her eyes and then stepped closer to him, slipping her arms behind his neck and gazing up at him. “Okay,” Jonas relented, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. “I told him to gather the Dream Walkers. I'm going back in, Sam. I have to end this tonight.”

He watched as the color drained from her cheeks. Sam lowered her arms and stepped back just as the elevator doors opened. Silently, they walked to Jonas's room and went inside. Jonas flipped on the bulb that set the room in harsh light. Looking dazed, Sam moved to sit on the edge of Jonas's bed, staring straight ahead.

“What did you think I was going to do?” he asked her. “I don't have another choice.”

Sam lifted her eyes to his, hurt. “Of course you do,” she said. “You can't go back to the Dream World. REM will kill you.”