Dreamer

by L. E. DeLano

  “I’ve been having dance classes more often these last weeks, gearing up for the performance,” I say. “If Rudy got inside my dance teacher’s head…”

  “You did show a surprising aptitude in a very short period of time,” Finn adds. “He could have easily determined you were cheating if he’s monitoring someone in your dance group.”

  “It’s not cheating,” I reaffirm.

  “And I’m not a pirate,” he replies with a bland smile.

  “He’s got eyes on you, so we’ve got to be careful,” Mario says. “I don’t mind you traveling—just clear your destinations with me first, so I know where you are. You need the practice, and we need to keep you moving to throw Eversor and Rudy off your scent, so to speak. Just don’t forget you’ve still got a target on your back.”

  “Got it. Look over my shoulder everywhere,” I reply glumly.

  Mario turns away from the board. “Did you manage to dig any further into the incident at the museum in Mexico City?”

  I nod. “Ben did. We’re pretty sure it was Eversor, even though they didn’t have her name. It was an Aztec mirror. It was from an archaeological dig somewhere.”

  “A mirror?” He looks alarmed.

  “And there was an Aztec display at the museum in New York City the day we went as well,” I continue. “Ben was looking into the specific items they had in the display, but I haven’t circled back with him yet.”

  “Hmm.” Mario puts his papers down. “Well, let’s get him in here, then.” He strides over to the door.

  “Wait—you’re going to go get Ben? You can do that?”

  “He’ll be dreaming, but yes, I can do that. It’s not standard procedure, but we’re not operating in standard mode around here right now.”

  He knocks sharply on the red door three times, and it opens, revealing a mildly interested-looking Ben in his soccer uniform on the other side. He’s even holding a soccer ball. He looks past Mario to me.

  “’Sup, St. Clair?” he asks, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “Has class started yet?”

  “This isn’t a normal class,” I explain. “You’re in the dreamscape with me—and Mario.”

  Ben’s eyes go wide. “I’m dreaming?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, watching him closely to make sure he’s not going to freak out. I don’t need to worry—he’s just rolling with it.

  “And you’re Mario?” Ben asks, holding out a hand to Mario. “Nice to meet you.”

  “A pleasure,” Mario says, giving his hand a quick shake. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for chitchat. We’ve got a lot to cover. You know Finn, of course.”

  Ben’s enthusiasm suddenly disappears.

  “Does he have to be here?” he asks, glaring at Finn.

  I can’t help but wonder the same thing. I know we’re all working toward a common goal, but putting these two in a room together—even an imaginary one—is not a stellar idea. I could easily debrief Finn in the morning.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Finn rises up out of his chair, dragging it over to sit even closer to me. It makes a horrible screech on the floor. Ben narrows his eyes and Mario gives him a stony look as they both pull desks into a semicircle with us and sit.

  “Jessa said Eversor was after an Aztec mirror,” Mario begins, turning to Ben. “Were there mirrors in the other exhibit, as well?”

  “Yes. And get this—from the same archaeological dig at the pyramid of Tenochtitlán in Mexico.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Does this have something to do with the convergence?”

  Mario nods. “Yes. If my hunch is right, these aren’t just normal mirrors. These mirrors belonged to a Traveler, and a powerful one, at that.”

  “Why would it matter whose mirror it was?” I ask.

  Mario gets out of his chair and heads over to the whiteboard again. “Across the centuries since Travelers came into play, there have been a handful who were exceptionally strong,” he says to me. “It’s common practice for a well-seasoned Traveler to carry their own mirror. I’m sure you’ve discovered how handy that can be.”

  He directs our attention to the whiteboard, and the image of a chipped, blackened shard of what looks like polished tile.

  “This is an Aztec mirror,” he says.

  “They could see themselves in that?” I tilt my head from side to side, but it just looks like black to me.

  “It’s made of obsidian,” Ben chimes in. “Most of them were back then. Mirror glass was unheard of in that region until the Europeans landed.”

  “When it’s highly polished, it works,” Mario says. “This particular mirror belonged to a man named Tizoc. He was an Aztec ruler and one of our strongest Travelers in that era. If it was one of his personal mirrors, this would have been his conduit for countless transfers—and it would still carry a lingering echo of his power. It becomes imbued with it.”

  “And what would happen if Eversor got her hands on it?” Finn asks.

  “She might be able to trigger the convergence,” Mario says. “There’s not much to it—all it would take is a powerful Traveler and the ability to sustain a dual state of consciousness between a reality and the dreamscape.”

  “You mean, half awake?” I ask. “How do you sustain that?”

  “Rum?” Finn asks.

  Mario smiles. “Inebriation would only get you unconscious in the long run. Most likely, she’ll look for a drug. Something that can bring on hallucinations that would keep her in a dream state while conscious. But it would be a very tricky and unstable thing unless the Traveler was quite gifted.”

  “Ben said the oracles at Delphi used to inhale hallucinogenic smoke,” I remember.

  “And according to what I read in the police reports from Mexico City, she was hallucinating when they apprehended her,” Ben supplies.

  “She’s taking drugs?” Finn asks.

  “They’d have to be powerful to keep her in a hallucinogenic state,” Mario muses.

  “Like an animal tranquilizer?” Finn presses. “Would that do it?”

  “That would knock her out,” I say. “And where would she get animal tranquilizers?”

  “I was only wondering because your local newspaper reported a robbery at a veterinary office,” Finn explains. “The cash inside was left untouched, but the culprit took some sort of tranquilizer that has value on the street.”

  “I heard about that. They took ketamine,” Ben says. “It’s hallucinogenic. I mean really hallucinogenic. If she’s hooked on that stuff…”

  I get a chill down my spine as I remember how Eversor looked when I saw her at the museum, the bones sharp beneath her skin, the sunken eyes and lank hair. She’d always been so full of life and so put together—now I know why she looked so ill.

  Mario doesn’t like the sound of that. “Once she’s in the ‘between’ state, she transfers through a conduit—like the mirror—directly to the dreamscape. Being in both places at once would create a rip in the reality stream, triggering the convergence.”

  “Is she strong enough to do that?” I ask.

  “That’s where the mirror comes in,” Mario replies. “She’s not. But with the extra power of that mirror, it may be possible. We need to be one step ahead somehow and keep her from getting the weapon she needs.”

  “That’s why she was at the museum in New York,” I say. “But she didn’t get what she was after.”

  “I would imagine they have some serious security protocols in place,” Ben says. “She’ll have to find something else.”

  “And with countless Travelers throughout history, and countless artifacts scattered about, how do you propose we stop her?” Finn asks incredulously. “It’s bloody impossible.”

  “Not impossible,” Mario says, drumming his fingers on the desk as he thinks. “But difficult. At least we know who she’s focusing on.”

  “You said there were other strong Travelers,” I point out.

  Mario shakes his head. “The others on that l
ist would have been too far back for something as fragile as a mirror to survive. And some didn’t use mirrors. Like … Narcissus.”

  “Narcissus?” I ask, wide-eyed. “As in the Greek demigod Narcissus?”

  “He was Greek,” Mario says. “But hardly a demigod. And contrary to legend, he wasn’t always staring into reflecting pools because he was full of himself.”

  “How would we find anything belonging to Narcissus?” Ben asks.

  “You won’t,” Mario says. “It’s been millennia. I can’t imagine anything of his would have survived. Likewise for Viatrix, your ancestor,” he says to me. “Tizoc is the only Traveler within the recent past who might qualify, and he lived nearly five hundred years ago.”

  “Well, I can’t just jet off around the world looking for Aztec mirrors,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m only seventeen. I don’t even have a passport.”

  “You won’t need to,” Ben says, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “I think I may have already solved our problem. It turns out there’s a local connection to the digs that went on at Tenochtitlán: an archaeologist by the name of Eli Greaver.”

  “As in the Greaver family?” I ask. “Founders of Ardenville?”

  “Those are the ones. He’s the brother who traveled the world.”

  “Greaver.” Finn has an odd look on his face. “Interesting.”

  “Why?” I ask. “You don’t even know the Greavers of Ardenville in your world.”

  “No, I don’t,” he says. “But my great-grandmother hailed from Greaverville, which stands where Ardenville is in my reality.”

  “That family has a bloodline that goes back to sixteenth-century England,” Ben says. “They owned most of this area.”

  “My great-grandmother was an unwed mother,” Finn shared. “It was quite the scandal. She immigrated to Ireland to start a new life, and here I am.”

  “Wait—Clara Gallagher?” I ask.

  Finn looks surprised. “Yes, that was her.”

  Now it’s Ben’s turn to be surprised. “She was the girl in your ghost story! The one who threw herself off the bridge because she was carrying the mayor’s child.”

  “Who would have been my grandfather,” Finn fills in.

  “And that explains why you were never here,” I murmur.

  “Cause and effect,” Mario says. “Some choices have larger repercussions than others.” He turns to Ben. “So Eli Greaver may have had an Aztec mirror in his possession?”

  “More than one,” Ben answers. He crosses his arms and gives us a smug look. “And now they’re on their way here.”

  I look at him in confusion. “What? How?”

  “My dad,” he says, and he’s obviously patting himself on the back for thinking of this. “There are four Aztec mirrors in a small collection of Central American art at a private museum in Chicago that came from the estate of Eli Greaver. My dad sits on the board at the Lower Hudson River Museum over in Manortown. He requested them for a special Greaver exhibit and they agreed to a six-month loan. I told him I needed them for a history project. He set it all up, and they’ll call us when they come in.”

  “Wow, Ben. Thanks.” I look at him with serious admiration. “It pays to have friends with connections.”

  “Guess I don’t need to jump through mirrors to stop a bad guy. Or girl.” Ben gives Finn a taunting smile along with that dig, and Finn responds with a glare of his own.

  “What are the chances one of these mirrors actually belonged to this Tizoc?” Finn asks.

  “Fairly good,” Mario answers. “Tizoc built the pyramid of Tenochtitlán.”

  “So we get the mirrors before Eversor puts two and two together and goes after them herself,” I say. “But she’ll just try again, won’t she? It’s not going to stop her.”

  “No, but it’ll slow her down,” Mario answers. “With most of the remaining mirrors under heavy guard, she’s going to be stalled—hopefully long enough for us to get a fix on Rudy.”

  “And you’re all so very busy with that,” Finn said sarcastically. “Weeks and weeks of nothing!”

  “Finn!” I admonish.

  “I want answers,” Finn growls. “I want to know why none of these omnipotent beings can seem to find the lone dissenter in their ranks. I want you out of harm’s way and I want to know every bit of what they know about all this.”

  “We’re all frustrated, Finn,” Mario says, pushing his hand through his hair. “But every piece of information we can gather will help us get closer to finding the answers we all need.”

  “I don’t think an immortal dream god needs to answer to you,” Ben says.

  “You’re not even qualified to be here,” Finn shoots back. “Why don’t you go back to dreamland?”

  “Stop it,” I snap at them. “You both have skills we need here.”

  “Damn right you need me,” Ben says. “I’m the one watching your back.”

  “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Finn asks, staring him down.

  “It means that Eversor’s come within a few feet of killing her twice now. And I don’t see anything you’ve done to prevent that.”

  “And if memory serves,” Finn growls, “Eversor got closest to her on your watch—and where were you at the time? Did all that history get you too excited to do your job?”

  “You were probably checking yourself out in the mirror while Jessa was getting run over!”

  “Knock it off!” Mario says in exasperation.

  “I’ll knock it off,” Ben snarls, pushing up out of his chair. “I’m fixing to knock his damn head off his shoulders!”

  He takes a swing that Finn ducks, and then Finn is out of his chair and diving for Ben, slamming him into the red door.

  “Stop this!” I yell. “Stop it, both of you!”

  Ben tosses him off and swings again. Finn gets it full in the face and jabs back, catching Ben above the eye. He winds up to swing on him again, but Ben grabs his arm, yanking him off-balance, and then shoves him back. I get out of my desk to move between them and suddenly … we’re all in the middle of a forest, overlooking a mountain lake. Ben and Finn are grappling on a dock over the water.

  I turn to look at Mario, who is watching the two of them through narrowed eyes, with his arms folded across his chest. He gives me a disgruntled look and then I hear a loud splash, followed by a bevy of curse words as Mario dissolves the dock beneath them.

  He strides over to the water’s edge as Finn and Ben surface and wade out, slogging through the icy water.

  “Are you two finished?” Mario asks. “Or should I send you in for another dunk?”

  “Where the hell are we?” Finn asks, wringing out the bottom of his shirt.

  “Alaska. I can keep you here all night, too,” Mario threatens. “You do not want to piss off your Dreamer.”

  “He started it,” Ben says, rubbing his arms to try to warm up.

  “I need you two to get a grip, and not on each other,” Mario tells them angrily. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, and so does Jessa. Neither of us has time for babysitting!”

  “He’s right,” I tell them. “We need to work together, at least until this is all behind us.”

  “Fine,” Ben says, shooting Finn an unfriendly look.

  “Fine.” Finn shrugs, though his eyes are still narrowed at Ben.

  “Fine,” I repeat, glaring at the two of them.

  “Oy vey,” Mario says.

  22

  A Series of Unlikely Events

  Ben texts.

  I stare at the phone and make a face at Ben’s text. Then I look up and realize Finn is watching me make a face. Ugh.

  Finn turns back to his vantage point near the window.

  “I don’t know what you think you’ll see out there,” I grumble. “It’s not like Eversor’s going to stand in the backyard with an assault rifle.”

  “I have a gut feeling about her,” he retorts. “And don’t snap at me just because your dear Ben is behaving badly.”r />
  “He’s just not comfortable around you. I think that’s understandable.”

  “He’s been bloody unreasonable from the moment he met me.” He looks back out into the yard again. “I don’t think you should go to work.”

  “I’ll be in a crowded supermarket with Christmas shoppers all around me,” I remind him. “It’s five days to Christmas, and they asked me to pick up an extra shift. I can use the hours since I had to miss last weekend for the field trip, and a three-hour shift isn’t going to kill me.” I glance down at my phone again. “Speaking of which, if you’re going to walk with me, we’d better get going.”

  Finn is totally annoying when we get to the store, hanging outside the employee entrance to the back room as Mr. Kellar, my manager, gives me my promo materials.

  “I know we normally put you over by the bakery,” Kellar says, “but we had a customer spill a gallon of cooking oil over there just a little while ago and it’s still slippery, so we had to section it off. We’ve got you back in the corner by the deli.”

  “The corner?”

  “Right at the end of the cases—that alcove where we usually put the extra condiment stand. It’s all set up—you’ll see it.”

  “Got it.” I tie my apron in the back, pick up my cooler full of frozen pizza puffs, and head out to the floor. Finn falls into step right behind me, and of course, just my luck—Mr. Kellar walks out right behind him.

  “I have to work now,” I tell Finn as I pull out and step behind the giant cardboard facade they set up around my wooden display table. “Go find someplace else to be.”

  He folds his arms, leaning against the edge of the deli case across from me.

  “Finn, I mean it,” I say. “My boss is watching.” I risk a glance over at Kellar, and he’s definitely not liking me having a fan club.

  Finn gives me a resigned look and slowly, very slowly starts to circle the floor near produce, looking over at me as I finish my setup. I start heating up the toaster oven, and I look for my food service gloves, frowning when I can’t find them. They must have run out again. A glance at my display confirms it—there’s an extra-large pump bottle of hand sanitizer right on the table. Great. That stuff dries out my hands so badly and I’m going to have to use it after every batch. The customers start coming as soon as the first batch is done, and I’m barely keeping up with demand.