The Last Dream Keeper (26 page)

“Hello?” Lyse called out, the hair on the back of her neck rising as the overhead lights in the corridor began to flicker.

No one answered her, but there was now a noticeable chill in the air. Lyse wrapped her arms around herself, grateful that she was at least wearing a flannel shirt and long pants. Exhaustion filled her entire body, and she let out a sigh, frowning when she realized she could see her breath hanging in the air.

It had been chilly in the lab, but not
this
chilly. From experience, she realized something supernatural was approaching.

Then all the lights went out.

Lyse could sense the creature before she felt it. It was sentient, alive and moving more quickly than anything human had a right to. She screamed as it passed her, its speed and size knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, the back of her head bouncing off the concrete floor. The pain dazed her for a moment, but then the present started to seep back into her brain. She remembered the lab and the women and the giant scary creature that was now trapped inside the corridor with her.

She realized that it was probably the very same beast that had been with her back in the interrogation room.

“Please don't hurt me,” Lyse whispered as she rolled onto her stomach and crawled over to one of the walls.

She pressed her fingers against it, using it to help herself climb to her knees and then, finally, onto her feet. Hands still grazing the wall as a guide, she began to walk.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend!” Lyse yelled. “They're your enemy, too, or you wouldn't be down here in this horrible place with me.”

There was a slight
hiss
in Lyse's ear—as though someone were breathing softly against her earlobe. The numbness came next as that side of her face began to freeze. She reached up and brushed her fingers across her cheek, but the skin felt normal. Warm to the touch, even. The creature was screwing with her perception, but it wasn't harming her physically.

“What are you?” Lyse murmured as a wave of sadness so intense washed over her that she felt her eyes prickle with tears.

I'm feeling its emotions,
she realized.
This is like the telepathy, but so much more intense.

“No,” Lyse said out loud. “Not
what
.
Who
are you?”

This appeared to be the right question. The sadness melted away and then, as if the creature were beaming images directly into her brain, Lyse
saw
.

*   *   *

blink

Identical faces. Sisters. Twins.

The words
REMEMBER THIS
flash across Lyse's mind.

blink

Men and women in dark robes, holding horrible weapons of murder and mutilation. A pyre; two women are lashed to a wooden stake in the middle of the flames. One of the women screams and the sound rips through the air as the stench of burning flesh fills Lyse's nostrils.

blink

A young woman, her dark hair shorn from her head. A ragged suture line across her forehead where her skull has been split apart and then sewn back together, electrodes
spilling from her head like hair. She lies on a metal gurney, strapped into place—though where anyone thinks she might go is a mystery. She's so thin, the flesh hanging from her bones, no muscle left on her skeletal frame to hold it in place. Like a petrified woman, she's atrophied into one position, her chin pressing into her collarbone, a feeding tube inserted down her throat, an IV in her left arm. Everything necessary to keep a husk of a person alive, but to what end?

Like in a horror movie . . . she looks up, the movement so fast it's impossible to follow. Haunted eyes, full of suffering.

And then Lyse is being pulled away, leaving the woman's bedside, being dragged out of the room where the woman lies . . . and Lyse realizes the woman is in one of those concrete chambers in the lab, trapped in there—and that there are women trapped inside
each
of the concrete block chambers of the lab. These women are all strapped to gurneys, being sucked dry of their life force . . . literally wasting away.

The words
I AM ALL OF THEM. THEY HAVE MADE US ONE
flash across Lyse's mind.

blink

*   *   *

Whatever had had hold of Lyse was gone. Her mind was her own again and she'd never felt so happy to be herself. She'd borne witness to terrible suffering, and the knowledge now filled her with a grief so palpable she could sense it taking up residence inside her body, overwhelming her brain.

They were killing her blood sisters, using them for their powers . . . basically draining them dry and then discarding them. The ones in the cages, they were just waiting for their turn on the operating table. The whole thing made Lyse's blood run cold.

I AM ALL OF THEM. THEY HAVE MADE US ONE.

It's in the blood.

I AM ALL OF THEM. THEY HAVE MADE US ONE.

It's in the blood.

Lyse was beginning to understand more about magic. That hybrids, like herself, had evolved in such a way that they were born with aspects of each of the five magical talents: Clairvoyance, Divination, Dream Keeping, Empathy, and Herbalism. There was something special in their blood, something that The Flood wanted. The others, the witches without this special blood, The Flood murdered outright—burning them at the stake to “cleanse” them in some awful tip of the hat to the witch trials of the Dark Ages. It was archaic and torturous, but it made a very firm point and scared the hell out of anyone who opposed them.

“Where are you?” Lyse called into the darkness—and then, one by one, the lights began to pop back on. The ghostly creature that had frightened the men away was allowing things to return to normal.

Except it's not a ghost,
Lyse thought.
It's the collective psyche of my blood sisters, a creature born from their suffering that is more powerful than anyone realizes—and I bet The Flood has no idea that they've created it.

Lyse wasn't sure where she was supposed to go. There was no magical blood droplet to follow, no angry camouflage mob to chase her, no one to tell her what to do.

“Lyse? Is that you?”

Up ahead, a figure emerged from one of the old prison cells. As the figure moved out of the shadows and down the long hallway, its features resolved into a face that Lyse had never expected to see here, in this terrible hellhole.

“O
h my God,” Lyse said as Arrabelle crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around her. “I don't . . . how did you . . . ?”

She couldn't finish the sentence. There was just too much emotion clogging her throat, making it hard to breathe, to speak, to think properly. How Arrabelle had ended up here in this place with her was a miracle—and one she almost didn't want to question for fear it would turn out to be a dream.

“I'm not here alone,” Arrabelle said, and she looked back down the hallway. Lyse followed her gaze and saw two bedraggled-looking people camped out in the shadows. “C'mere. This is my coven mate, Lyse. One of my closest blood sisters.”

She gestured for her two friends to join them. Tentatively they came forward: a young woman with long brown hair and a face that felt vaguely familiar to Lyse. The other was a man whom Lyse had never seen before—and from the pained hunch of his shoulders and the gauntness of his frame, Lyse was almost sure this would be their only meeting.

“This is Niamh,” Arrabelle said, indicating the girl, “and this is Evan . . .”

Lyse knew the name. Remembered how distraught Arrabelle had been when she thought he was dead—and she recognized that soon Arrabelle would have a repeat of that same grief. Lyse wanted to hold her friend tight, tell her that this was not the end, and Evan would go on (she knew this from her experiences with Eleanora), but now was not the time. Later, she promised herself, she would be there for Arrabelle. After they were long gone from this horror show.

“Any friend of Arrabelle's is a friend of mine,” she said, nodding to Niamh and Evan. “I don't know why you've come to this terrible place—”

“My sister is here,” Niamh said, her eyes plaintive. “Have you seen her? She looks like me. She is me . . .”

And Lyse realized where she'd seen the young woman's face before.

I AM ALL OF THEM. THEY HAVE MADE US ONE.

The young woman in the concrete chamber in the lab—that was how Lyse had recognized Niamh's face. She took the girl's thin wrists and held them in her hands.

“I know where your sister is, but . . .” She paused, not sure how to go on. “I don't think she's wholly your sister anymore.”

*   *   *

If there was one place Lyse did
not
want to go back to, it was that fucking laboratory. But saying no to Arrabelle and her friends was out of the question, so as they made their way back down the shadowy hall, Lyse explained what the place was and what The Flood had done to the blood sisters they'd kidnapped.

“No,” Niamh said, as she kept pace with Lyse. “That's not possible.”

“They steal their powers, but what they don't realize is that when they pool all of the psychic energy together in one
place, they're creating a connection,” Lyse said. “And it's something more than just a connection. It's built a living thing . . . a sentient creature that's in this place, stalking the halls and scaring the shit out of the bad guys. It will protect us if we need it. It's on our side . . .”

“I just want my sister,” Niamh said.

“No, we want to set them all free,” Evan disagreed, coming up behind them with Arrabelle at his side.

“There are others here, too,” Lyse said. “They use them like servants. They've cut out their tongues.”

“Damn,” Arrabelle said, looking sick. “Well, I think they've been experimenting for a while. And on their own followers . . . I think that's where the creature that attacked us at the eucalyptus grove came from.”

“God, that's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy,” Lyse said. “That they'd do that to their own people. Well, the blood sisters are different. They're not scary and they'll help us. They promised me.”

“How do you know that?” Niamh asked. “If they have no tongues . . . ?”

“They're connected to the creature. They can link into your brain, speak to you telepathically.”

“My sister . . .” Niamh said. “It's how we communicated when we were little. They said it was because we were twins.”

This made Lyse start to wonder if the creature's abilities were an amalgamation of all the talents it had acquired. If the creature had soaked up Laragh and Niamh's telepathy and was using it to link all the blood sisters. It was a fascinating idea—and a terrifying one.

“We're here,” Lyse said as they reached the end of the corridor.

The doorframe was still barricaded—the men in camouflage had done a fine job of sealing off the entrance with a heavy metal filing cabinet.

“Now what?” Niamh asked.

“If we get this crap out of the way, the lab and your sister are right on the other side.”

Niamh nodded and began to attack the cabinet. Lyse and Arrabelle joined her, trying to shove the heavy metal filing cabinet out of the way, but it was a losing game.

“I think it needs all of us to shift it,” Evan said.

“No—” Arrabelle said, trying to dissuade him, but he shook his head and lent his weight to the endeavor.

Lyse could see the toll it took on him. His already pale face became ashen and he could hardly catch his breath, but he didn't complain, just kept throwing his weight against the cabinet with the others, willing it to move. After a few minutes, the cabinet began to inch forward and then, before they knew it, there was enough of a gap for each of them to squeeze through.

“I'll go first,” Lyse said as she crawled through the gap and climbed out into the fluorescent-lit lab. It was just as she'd left it, the horror of the place still as real and frightening as before.

“Oh, lord,” Arrabelle said as she followed Evan out into the light.

“What've they done?” Evan asked, his voice cracking with emotion as he stared at the rows of cages, his face a mask of disbelief as he realized there were women trapped inside them. “We have to get them out of here.”

He started to move toward the first grouping of cages, but Arrabelle caught his arm.

“Wait. Let's do this efficiently—”

But Arrabelle's warning came too late. Niamh was already making her way into the lab, searching for her sister.

“Niamh!” she called, but the girl ignored her. Lyse sighed and turned to Arrabelle: “There are cameras everywhere. I'm ninety-nine percent sure they already know we're in here.”

“Jesus,” Arrabelle said, looking truly frightened for the first time since Lyse had known her. “We have to get her back here.”

“Too late,” Evan said, his eyes focused on the far corner of the lab, where two men in camouflage were pushing through the doorway.

“Fuck,” Lyse said.

“Let's get Niamh and go back into the hall,” Arrabelle said. “This was insane to break in here without a plan—”

“No.”

Evan grabbed Arrabelle's arm.

“Yes,” Arrabelle replied. “You're sick and you can't—”

Evan reached over and touched Arrabelle's cheek.

“Bell, I'm dying. There's no need for me to run anymore.”

“You're going to be fine,” Arrabelle said, tears flooding her eyes. “We'll find something that'll—”

“Bell, I've tried . . .”

And he lifted up his shirt.

Arrabelle gasped when she saw the rotten black wound. It had eaten up Evan's whole side, digging into the flesh of his stomach and down toward his pelvis. But what surprised Lyse was something else . . . not the necrotic tissue, but the long, thin scars that ran underneath each nipple. Lyse had a friend who'd undergone sexual reassignment surgery, and his scarring had been very similar.

Arrabelle's friend Evan had not been biologically born a man.

“Oh, Evan,” Arrabelle said, shutting her eyes and shaking her head as she realized how bad the wound was. “No, no, no . . .”

Evan let his shirt fall back into place.

“There's nothing we can do except not let my death be in vain.”

He pulled her to him, and she let his hand caress her face.

“I love you, Bell. I'm sorry I was too scared to give you what you needed,” he said—and then he leaned over and kissed her.

Lyse looked away, wanting to give them privacy, and her gaze locked on the two men with guns slowly moving toward them.

“We have to go,” Lyse said, turning back around in time to see Arrabelle hand Evan something small and wrapped in tissue. Lyse didn't know what it was, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out.

“Go find Niamh,” Evan said, pushing Arrabelle toward Lyse. “Help her find her sister.”

He took off, heading toward the men in camouflage.

“Evan, no!” Arrabelle said, and Lyse had to hold her back to prevent her from going after him.

“Do what he said. Let's help Niamh and the others,” Lyse whispered into Arrabelle's ear. Her friend stiffened and then finally nodded.

“Okay.”

Lyse grabbed Arrabelle's hand and they took off through the lab, bypassing metal surgical tables and threading their way through the rows of computer workstations.

“This place is a nightmare,” Arrabelle said, and Lyse nodded.

“It's hell.”

Lyse had an idea of where Laragh was being held, but she didn't know which of the concrete rooms housed Niamh's sister. She realized that she and Arrabelle were going to have to split up.

“Those concrete rooms,” Lyse said, pointing to the closest one. “She's in one of those. Find her and I think we'll find Niamh.”

“All right,” Arrabelle said. “I'll see you shortly.”

Arrabelle took off, and Lyse did the same. Lyse's path led her in the same direction Evan had taken, and she was glad Arrabelle had chosen to go the other way.

Up ahead, Lyse saw one of the concrete rooms and jogged toward it, hoping to find Niamh or Laragh inside, but when she looked through the small window she saw it was empty. It was at that very moment she caught Evan's reflection in the window, his body moving like a speeding bullet as he ran toward the two men in camouflage.

Lyse whirled around and began to sprint in Evan's direction.
He was acting like a kamikaze pilot hell-bent on death and destruction—and she didn't think his life should be sacrificed just yet. Whether he knew it or not, he was going to get her help.

“Wait up,” she called to him as she picked her way through the maze of medical tables and workstations. “I'm your backup.”

Evan slowed down but did not stop.

“I don't need backup,” he yelled at her.

The two men with guns were moving forward in stealth mode, careful not to expose themselves to an attack. Apparently, they seemed to believe that Lyse and Evan were some kind of a threat. The idea almost made Lyse laugh.

“What was in the tissue?” Lyse asked, as she finally caught up to him.

“Poisoning agent on a dart.”

“Can you use it on these guys?” Lyse asked as she followed Evan into a crouch behind one of the metal surgical tables.

“If I can get close enough.”

“Consider it done,” Lyse said, and stood up, waving her arms at the two men, who were also hiding behind another of the surgical tables.

“Hey, over here, assholes!” she screamed.

She felt Evan's hand on the side pocket of her jeans, trying to pull her back down, but she stayed on her feet, ignoring him.

“They don't know what to do,” Lyse whispered down to Evan as across the room, she saw the two men conferring. “I think they've been told not to hurt us.”

“Lucky us,” Evan whispered back, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Lyse had to agree that death was a far kinder end than getting locked up in one of those god-awful cages.

“If I had a white flag, I'd be raising it right now!” Lyse yelled at the men. “I give up and I'm unarmed.”

“Are you crazy?” Evan said, shaking his head.

“Just trust me,” she whispered down to him.

He looked as though he'd rather do anything but what she'd just asked. Yet he held his tongue.

The two men rose from their position slowly and began to move through the maze of workstations. Lyse noticed movement in her peripheral vision and realized that her yelling had woken up some of the women in the cages. They were stirring now, opening their eyes. Some were sitting up, following Lyse's movements, tracking her with their haunted eyes.

“They're waking up,” Lyse said, cocking her head in the direction of the nearest row of cages.

“I can see,” Evan said, looking around him. “Jesus, they look like they've been tortured.”

“They have been,” Lyse replied.

More and more of the women were waking up now, and as they came to consciousness, they began to murmur among themselves.

“They want to help us,” Lyse said, recognizing the sound as the murmuring grew in pitch until it was a driving hum.

More voices joined in until Lyse could feel the hum racing through her body—and she wasn't the only one. Evan was feeling it, too. Lyse reached down and touched her calf. The cut on her leg was gone.