Surreal Ecstasy (20 page)

I finally understood. "Ree,
did you tell Dess to get that tattoo?"

He smiled on one side of his face,
one adorable dimple showing itself. "Nah. She'd been dying to get it for
years. I might have persuaded her to get it in that exact location, however."

"How many Slates have been
killed?" Dess said, pacing around the bathroom now, her voice considerably
quiet.

"Since the beginning of time,
you mean? I really don't know, but I want to say there were at least twenty
killed so far this year alone." Ree tried to say it in a casual manner,
but I could hear his breath catching a little.

I laid face down on my mattress,
hugging my extra pillow that Ree didn't use, on the verge of tears. "This
whole thing has me scared. What will happen if you two get hunted by the
Melted? What would I possibly do then?"

Ree sat by my side and tried to
soothe me, smoothing my hair back and kissing me on the head. "That's not
going to happen. I swear. I did not come here just so I can be separated from
you."

"I'm afraid—terrified that
this was all a dream and I'll wake up in Adim's apartment, finding that neither
one of you ever existed." My tears were flowing faster now.

"Morgue –" Dess said, her
voice sounding very concerned and like she had stepped closer to me.

"No! How do I know that I didn't
invent
you
, Dess? I already know I invented Ree."

"Morgan," Ree said,
sounding firm but loving, "You did
not
invent me. I am real. I've
always been real. I was never an imaginary friend. I was your Living Guardian
Angel, and even though I may not have that title anymore, it'll always mean
something to me. My spirit will always protect you, regardless of the rules,
whether or not I'm officially your LGA or even if my life gets taken away from
me."

I said nothing and, after that,
heard nothing. I cried about the misery of the world, thinking of the Slates
that were killed just for being who they were. Discrimination was never too far
away in this universe, no matter where a person's spirit was from. I cried
because I was deathly afraid that something would happen to the twins, both of
whom have changed my life in ways they may never truly understand.

In this melancholy, miserable
state, I slept and dreamt of my own mind-room.

* * *

"Where are we, Morgan?"

The beautiful Tiberius was walking
with me in my dream along a small stream. In the background, an old-looking
gray castle stood.

"Are you going to remember all
this, Ree? Are you sleeping right now?"

He smiled. "Where are we,
Morgan?"

"Aren't
you
the one
that decides where we are?" I asked him, confused.

He shook his head. "It's your
mind—I just work here." He gave me another dazzling smile, showing his
dimples again. "Remember,
you're
the Architect."

I sat down on a nearby rock. "It's
so weird, talking to you in the same way I used to talk to Friend. How are you
able to do this? How can you be in my dream if you're not connected to me that
way anymore?"

His smile disappeared. "I can't.
I'm not here, Morgan. Just a manifestation of the person you know."

"Just a manifestation," I
repeated, discouraged. "So you're not really here right now. I can never
again talk to you the way I did when I was little."

"But we can talk to each other
in real life. I can't give you any more knowledge this way, but you can use me
to evaluate and organize the information you already have. Your mind-room
construction power, for instance. You haven't dealt with that at all, and it's
really important."

I sighed. "You come from
my
mind, so what you're saying is what I believe… so it seems that I believe my
power is important. You're—I'm—right. I need to focus on this. I was given this
power for a reason, and even though it doesn't seem like a big deal or like it
can really help people, there's no harm in trying, right?"

"Exactly," my Fake Ree
agreed. There, right there was an obvious difference between the fake and the
original. The Real Ree would be a lot more positive and encouraging about it
and not simply concede to there being 'no harm in trying.'

"This is my dream. I'm here to
practice my human helper powers. So let's do it."

I don't know if dream-time is the
same as regular earth time, but we—I—practiced for a long time. He'd show me
examples of mind rooms, some messy, some neat, all of different sizes—and I'd
help organize all the files onto shelves and create something particular to the
owner of those files. It would all be done by me focusing and believing that I
could do it, and in the blink of an eye, things would be rearranged, invented,
or taken away. It was a lot like when a person dreams and wants to change
something they see, and all they have to do is concentrate on it and,
hopefully, it would change. It was good practice, and I enjoyed it, almost
upset when I woke up to find the Real Ree lying next to me wide awake.

The angle of the sun shining
through the big window told me it was the late afternoon. Ree had obviously
been keeping a close eye on me. Realizing it was quiet in the room, I asked
him, "Where's Dess?"

"She went to pick up some
dinner for us. I ordered a chicken parmigiana for you. Is that okay?"

I assured him it was and thanked
him for being so thoughtful. I couldn't believe I'd taken a nap in the middle
of the day. I sat up slowly and relayed my dream to him, including the part
about how the Fake Ree helped me understand my powers.

Ree
found his fake alter-ego incredibly amusing and wouldn't shut up about it,
totally ignoring the part about how I practiced my Architect power. Instead, he
focused on asking for play-by-play details of the mischievous things I must
have done with the Fake Ree.

"We did
not
do anything
like that," I said indignantly. "He wasn't even really you; he was
just another part of me that
looked
like you. Doing anything with him
would have been like having sex with myself."

"
Interesting!
" Ree
cheered, the naughty smile on his face growing. "Please, do go on, with as
many details as possible. You can even insert some extra details, if you want."

A hot blush crept up my neck and
spread to my ears. "I told you,
nothing happened.
Got it? We
practiced constructing and organizing mind rooms to different people's specs,
kind of like interior decorating."

Ree nodded and looked thoughtful
for a few seconds, and I was certain he'd forgotten about any 'self-love'
ideas. He got up, picked up a couple boxes that were sitting in random places,
and straightened them, putting one on top of another in a neat pile. Then he
returned to the mattress and sat down next to me.

"Can you give me a live
performance of what it
would
have been like, though? Right now, please.
Just lay back and get comfortable. I'll get you some extra pillows, and a glass
of water for afterwards. I won't even take pictures…the first time."

"Ree!" I slapped him on
his upper arm playfully, but he was so toned, he didn't even flinch.

"Okay, okay, okay," Ree
said, pouting in utter defeat. "Let's go in a different direction here.
How are you feeling emotionally?"

"I feel… crappy. Miserable. I
don't know, I guess learning more about the Slate murders just… I don't know,"
I repeated. "It's like watching seven straight hours of crime drama. It
gets to you after a while and affects your perception of the world. At least
temporarily."

"Okay," Ree said again,
the tone of his voice suggesting he'd figured out a way to tackle this
situation. "Let's pretend you're an FBI agent, or a police investigator.
You just found out that three people have died." I looked down and began
crying again, but Ree put his face where I could see it, ensuring he had my
full attention. "You could either let it affect you, which would make the
murderers win and be in control, or you could channel your feelings into
determination, to find out who did this and how we can stop them, honoring the
memories of the victims by doing so."

I looked up. He really did always
know what to say.

"Now you, Morgan, have a
special gift. You are the Architect—the only human helper Dess and I even know
about. You've chosen to work for the Worthy and be on the side of good. We need
you," he added, putting his hand on the side of my shoulder. "Together
we will find out who's been doing this, and we'll take proactive measures to
protect the rest of the Worthy. The deaths of the twenty who have died will
not
be in vain." He paused for a few moments, possibly to allow everything he'd
said sink in.

It did.

"Morgan, I know that
physically, technically, we just met. But I have known you for a very, very
long time. Take my word for it. Loving you has opened up my soul and made my
mind rejoice, and I'm aware of things that I've never even thought about
before."

I smiled at him and continued to
watch him. "I'm glad I can help you open up your soul."

An adorable simper played itself
across Ree's perfect face. "Now, back to the matter of showing me how this
self-love business works…"

The hot blush returned to my face
in a flash. "Ree! Stop!" I hit him on his arm again because it was
the only response I could come up with while so flustered. Then, a thought
occurred to me. "You remember everything in my life up to when we met,
right?"

"I can pull out those
memories, yes."

Crap. "So all the times that
I…that I've, uh, you know…did things by myself, all these years? You saw all
that?"

Not saying anything, he laughed
quietly.

"Oh, my god!" I pulled my
blanket way over my head, wishing I could run away and hide in a barrel or
something.

Ree laughed to himself and peeled
the blanket away from my face, assuring me that I had nothing to be ashamed
about and that he wouldn't look at those memories unless I gave him explicit
permission.

"Gee, thanks," I said,
still hiding my face. "Just don't hold your breath, buddy."

"There's nothing wrong with
it, Morgan," he said lightheartedly, trying to make eye contact with my
ever-hiding face.

"Oh, my god!" I said
again. "Will you just drop the subject, please?"

We went on like that until Dess got
home with bags and boxes of garlic-smelling food. The gentleman in Ree got up
to take the bags away from his sister.

I sat up and sighed, relieved we
wouldn't have to discuss this anymore. He must have sensed this somehow because
he gazed up at me briefly and winked, giving me a warning in code so as not to
embarrass me further.

"We are not done with this
conversation, Morgan. We still need to elaborate on the 'self' issue some more,
complete with detailed demonstrations. We'll pick this up tonight before bedtime."

Chapter 14

"My mother is crazy!"
Dess shouted into the street.

I was sympathetic, to be sure, but
I also happened to be very amused.

I was completely moved out of the
apartment by Monday. The twins had chosen to let their money do the talking for
once and they'd hired movers to do the labor, and maids to clean the place up.
I'd told them that the latter wasn't necessary, but Ree had insisted, saying
that it was better to leave a good impression behind after you've lived
somewhere. 

All I'd needed to do was cancel my
utilities. I still had to go to the post office and submit a change of address
form, but I was too lazy for that at the moment.

Ree had agreed to pay the movers a
little extra so they could get those damn boxes out of Dess' spare bedroom and
move it into the empty garage. My spirits lifted when I realized that the spare
bedroom would be called
our
bedroom from this point forward. I'd never
really lived with someone before. Spending a few nights alone at an old
boyfriend's house while he spent the night gambling and doing god knows what
else really, really didn't count.

 It was early Monday evening, and
Mrs. Rios, the twins' mother, apparently wanted to ensure that Ree, her baby,
had enough clothes and belongings to feel comfortable all the way out in the
boonies, AKA Washington. Recalling his one duffel bag that he had brought with
him from L.A, I was inclined to agree with that, theoretically. But paying big
bucks to have five very obviously-expensive chests flown over and then driven
to the twins' doorstep in a gigantic truck seemed to be a tad much.

Only Ree seemed to have no
reaction. He was standing on the sidewalk, having a discussion with the two men
that drove the trunks here from California, trunks that were now littered across
our driveway, so that anybody passing by will immediately observe that Dess had
been living a humble lie.

I had to admit I felt inferior to
those five inanimate objects. They looked like they belonged in a presidential
suite at the Four Seasons, not in a driveway of a house that couldn't have been
worth more than $200,000.

Ree came over to us with a big
smile on his face. "Good news, Dess. Two of those trunks are yours."

Dess stood there in shock while Ree
laughed and walked back to the men, getting out his wallet as he did so. "Do
not
tip them!" she screamed at him at the top of her lungs. "Do
not
thank them for doing Mom's evil work!"

He grinned casually as he gave the
men a tip, but I couldn't tell how much he gave them. I could have sworn it
looked like it was $100 each. "It's time to give up the ghost. Just dress
how you usually do. What do you really think people will say? Who cares?"

My head snapped to look dead-on
into Dess' eyes. "You normally don't dress like this?"

"Sort of," she replied in
a confrontational tone, still pissed off, apparently. "I have my
own
style. It's just that I've lived a modest life these past few months, and I've
enjoyed it. Now my mom's shoving me right back into the lap of luxury, and that
should be
my
choice. I can't very well go to a minimum-wage job and slap
an apron atop a Gucci suit."