Bodie’s is the only lit one in the neighborhood of houses overlooking downtown Elara. It is the shape of a barn with vertical siding. The weathered wood looks as if it could use a fresh coat of paint. The land around it is tamped dirt with nothing but shrubs.
They can hear noises coming from inside. Metis knocks on the door and it opens. It is Bodie. Up close, he looks bigger and more muscular than Aris remembers. His blond hair and white clothes contrast with his deep-brown skin. He gives them a big smile.
“Hi, I’m Bodie.”
He thrusts his hand out. Metis takes it and shakes. Bodie turns his attention to Aris.
“May I?” He lifts her left hand and brings it to his lips.
“Beautiful ring,” he says and steps aside to let them through. “Come on in!”
Metis and Aris look at each other. Metis steps over the threshold of the door, and she follows. She is taken aback by what she sees. There is a gathering of about twenty people. They are scattered around the large room, chatting and laughing with each other. Everyone is wearing white. Aris scans her and Metis’s gray and black clothes and feels out of place.
“We’re about to get ready,” Bodie says and leads them toward the group.
For what?
Aris leans into Metis and whispers, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
The interior of Bodie’s house is open and airy. The walls are a happy yellow. One glance and Aris can tell the pleasant space belongs to an artist. A long worktable sits in the middle, separating the area into quadrants. A desk with multiple drawers is by a window. On it lie stones of different colors and spools of silver and gold chain.
Paintings of various sizes are stacked up against the wall of one corner. A wheel for throwing pottery sits in another. Wide shelves run along one side of the room. One is filled with drying vases and pots. Another has those that have been fired. They are organized by color. Greens and blues on one side, the warm colors on another.
She looks at the people. They appear to be couples, either holding hands or with arms wrapped around each other. They are chatting enthusiastically. The excited energy in the room is contagious.
“Metis!” a surprised voice speaks.
Aris turns toward it and sees a woman in white. Her brown eyes are wide with shock. In her chestnut-brown hair are wildflowers from the desert. Her pale skin makes her stand out from others in the room.
“Seraphina?” Metis rushes toward her. Aris follows.
He knows her?
“Why are you here?” the pretty woman says in a hushed tone. Her face is fear-stricken.
Why is she so afraid? Who is she to Metis? An ex-lover?
“How do you know my—?” Metis asks in a low voice.
Seraphina looks at her feet. “Benja told me about you.”
“Wait, you know Benja?” Aris asks. Her voice is high in her ears.
A surprised look crosses Seraphina’s face. “Who are you?”
“This is Aris. My wife,” Metis says. “Benja’s friend.”
Seraphina’s eyes well up. She turns to Metis. “Does she know?”
He nods. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my wedding,” says Seraphina.
“Oh! Congratulations,” Aris says.
Seraphina ignores her and steps closer to Metis. So close that Aris can smell the scent of her perfume. She feels the heat of jealousy rising.
“You can’t be here. You need to leave,” Seraphina says.
“What’s going on?” Metis asks.
Bodie appears next to Seraphina. “Hey.”
Seraphina takes a step back. “Hi, Honey. This is Metis. He’s an old friend. And this is his beautiful wife, Aris. He just introduced me to her.”
She turns to Aris. “It’s so nice to meet you finally.”
To Aris’s surprise, Seraphina moves her hands to her shoulders and presses her against her chest before Aris can protest. It is an intimate gesture that Aris did not expect from someone she just met. Seraphina’s warm breath is next to her ears.
“Promise me you’ll leave. Metis can’t be here. The Sandman needs to be protected. Absinthe needs to be protected,” Seraphina whispers quickly.
Aris feels blood leaving her body. Shock surges like waves from the pit of her stomach.
Metis is the Sandman?
Before Seraphina’s lips leave her ears, she says, “Don’t drink it.”
Drink what?
Seraphina squeezes her shoulders. Aris takes it as a warning—now is not the time to push for answers. She nods and forces a smile. Bodie’s face breaks into a wide grin.
He puts his hand on Metis’s shoulder and says, “You know, you look so familiar. Have we met?”
Seraphina and Metis exchange a glance. “Metis is a famous pianist. You’ve probably seen his face on something somewhere.”
“Must be. Well, we’re so glad to have you here.”
“How did you two meet?” Metis asks.
“Seraphina was visiting Elara a few months back. She had a friend with her. What was his name? My memory’s not so good anymore.”
“Benja,” Seraphina says. Her voice is sad.
“Handsome guy,” Bodie says, “I met them at a bar downtown. They were staying at the Hotel of the Desert, near the preserve. I thought they were lovers until she came to my shop one day and asked me out on a date.”
“We haven’t been apart since,” Seraphina says.
“Never again,” Bodie says. He leans down and kisses her.
When he breaks away, he says, “All right! I need to get the party started. Excuse me.”
He walks off, leaving Seraphina alone with Metis and Aris.
“I guess you didn’t heed my advice,” Metis says.
Seraphina gives a small smile. “Neither did you.”
“Fair enough,” says Metis.
“I heard about Bodie soon after I joined the Dreamers,” Seraphina says. “When they described him, I knew he was my lover from the past cycle. You know, it wasn’t even that long after his dreams were erased that I joined. If only . . .”
Seraphina sighs. “When I decided to look for him, I didn’t know what I would find. I was afraid, so I came with Benja. He was the bravest person I knew.”
Aris wonders why Benja never mentioned Seraphina to her. Then she remembers. She was against him taking Absinthe, and she blamed all the Dreamers for influencing him. She wishes she had believed her friend while he was alive. She could have helped. At least Bodie is still here. If he will let her, she may be able to give his dreams back to him.
Seraphina says, “You were right on one thing though, Metis. We can’t force the past on someone who doesn’t want it.”
Aris sees Bodie coming out of a room she thinks is the kitchen. In his hands is a tray of shot glasses filled with clear liquid. He walks slowly around the room, trying to keep the drinks from spilling. He goes to each person, offering a glass to them. One by one they take them from the tray.
“Is that—?” Aris asks.
“No. Something else,” Metis says.
Bodie comes to stand in front of them.
“This is why you’re here, isn’t it?” Bodie says and winks.
Metis takes a glass. So, does Aris. Seraphina stiffens and gives Aris the slightest shake of her head. It’s imperceptible to everyone but her.
The sound of metal clinking against glass rings through the room, hushing everyone into silence. They look toward Bodie.
He speaks.
“Today I marry the woman of my dreams. Seraphina came into my life like a warm summer breeze. I cannot imagine my life without her. And I won’t. Tabula Rasa will not take her away from me anymore.” His voice is clear and cheerful. He sounds like someone on the top of the world.
He looks arou
nd at the smiling faces. “I know you all have the same desire. To stay forever with those we love. Here’s to that dream.”
Bodie raises the glass and brings it to his mouth.
“To love,” he says and drains it.
Everyone echoes him and drinks the shot. Aris yanks at Metis’s hand and shakes her head. Metis nods. Neither of them drink.
Aris watches as Bodie’s smile turns to a look of bewilderment. His legs collapse under him. As if a switch has been turned off, light exits his eyes. His inanimate body crashes to the floor.
In quick succession, one after another of those around him drop where they stand, like marionette dolls whose strings have been severed. The sound, like sacks of potatoes being thrown onto the floor, reverberates in Aris’ bones. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Aris hears a scream. It’s coming from her. Metis grabs the glass in her hand and throws it against a wall. It shatters into pieces.
“Shhh,” Seraphina says, “you’ll attract attention.”
Seraphina walks toward Bodie and lowers herself to the floor next to his lifeless body. She gently places his head on her lap. He looks peaceful, as if in slumber.
Aris feels a tremble, like that of an earthquake. Then she realizes its epicenter is her. She looks down at her hands and watches them vibrate uncontrollably.
“What happened, Seraphina?” Metis speaks. His voice is rough.
“Poison.”
“Did you do this?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you murder them?” Metis asks.
“I didn’t. I only made the poison. It was their choice. They wanted to die. They didn’t want to live without their lovers. A life without love is not a life.”
“Didn’t you love Bodie?” Aris asks.
“Yes. More than anything.” Seraphina looks up, and her face is painted with tears.
“You know Bodie didn’t even remember me?” she says. “The Interpreter took his dreams and memories of us. Have you ever looked into the eyes of someone you love and seen no recollection? It’s more painful than you can ever imagine.”
“But you found each other,” Aris says.
“This time. But what about the next cycle? His dreams of our past were taken from him. Absinthe will no longer work on him—the dreams they took are gone. At first, I tried to remind him of the past, but it only confused him. It got so bad he would get angry whenever I talked about it. Eventually he refused. So I settled into making a new life with him. Bodie was not the same after the Dreamcatcher. A part of him was missing.”
Aris knows what Seraphina means. A part of Benja was missing too. Hope. The Dreamcatcher had taken hope away from him and replaced it with emptiness.
“He would never remember me the same way I’ll remember him,” Seraphina says.
“But suicide?” Metis asks.
“You think it was my idea? It was his. Death is the only way out of Tabula Rasa’s grip. He was the freest man you’d ever find. Everyone else here—they wanted the same thing. You don’t hear about it, because nobody talks about it. But they’re there, waiting for the right opportunity to break free. Isn’t that what Benja did?”
Aris feels tears rolling down her chin. “This can’t be the only way out. There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t,” Seraphina says.
She notices that next to Seraphina is a glass filled with clear liquid.
“No, don’t,” Aris whispers. “We can help.”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“We have a machine that can project dreams. That’s why we came here—to try and help Bodie get his dreams back.”
Something flashes in Seraphina’s eyes. She looks down at Bodie and sighs.
“It’s too late for us. You need to leave. Once the police find us, they’ll want answers. You two cannot be associated with this.”
Seraphina eases a ring off her finger and does the same to Bodie. She beckons Aris over.
“Here, take these and go. Use the back door.”
Seraphina hands Aris the silver objects. Aris looks at them in her palm and realizes that they have the same design as her and Metis’s rings.
“Why do you have these?” Aris asks.
“I don’t know. All of us here have them. We all came across them somehow. Please put them in the Gift Market the next time you’re there. Someone else may be able to use them.”
Aris feels like crying.
“Please go. I need to follow Bodie,” Seraphina says. “Being without him is unbearable. But I can’t do that until you two leave. Please.”
Metis places his arm around Aris and pulls her toward the back of the house. As they walk slowly away, she looks over her shoulder at the scene.
The floor of the yellow room is carpeted with the men and woman who, just moments earlier, were alive. Their bodies cover the floor like a field of white flowers. A vision from a nightmare.
Seraphina is the only figure sitting. She is cradling her lover in her arms, rocking back and forth as if singing him a lullaby. In another time and another place, could Aris be her? She shoves the rings into her jacket pocket and feels warm tears streaming down her face.
There are fewer people in Elara than the other cities. Thane fears being seen, so he hides behind a building across the way from the house Aris and Metis disappeared into. He hopes he does not end up in Elara next cycle. He doesn’t like this place. Everything looks old and battered, reminding him of sun-faded photographs of ghost towns in Old California. He prefers the brightness and noise of Callisto. It’s where he belongs.
The cold wind blows, and he crosses his arms over his chest. Too many nights he is out in the cold, stalking suspects. He cannot wait for Tabula Rasa to come and take him out of this situation.
He looks across the way at the only lit house on the empty street. There is a party going on in there. He heard laughter and screams, and something like breaking glass coming from it. Aris never mentioned having friends in Elara. Perhaps the friends belong to Metis.
They are lovers. But it does not make sense. The Aris he knows would not suddenly commit to someone with only a month left.
Why now? Why this man?
The house is now quiet. Too quiet. Thane decides to look inside. He will be careful not to get caught. Maybe everyone in there is drunk. Then it would not matter. He treads carefully across the graveled road.
One of the front windows has curtains that are partially open. He goes toward it and peeks through. The room is empty.
That’s strange. Where are they?
His eyes catch something odd on the floor. Flowers. Desert flowers surrounded by brown earth. He strains his eyes. The silky texture does not look like dirt. More like hair.
What is someone’s head doing on the floor?
He thinks of Aris, and his heart drops to his stomach. He runs to the front door and pounds against it. No answer. He turns the knob and pushes.
The scene before him is out of a surreal painting. On the floors are limp bodies strewn about. Everyone is dressed in white. Next to them are empty shot glasses.
His mind immediately goes to the drug the Interpreter Center is hunting down with his help.
Does it make people immediately fall asleep and dream?
He walks to the woman with flowers in her hair, being careful to tread lightly. The floorboards creak with each step. When he gets to the woman, he kneels next to her. She has a smile on the corner of her lips. Her face looks peaceful.
“Excuse me.”
Nothing.
He touches her, intending to shake her awake. Her skin is still warm, but her body is too still. He moves his fingers up her slender neck.
No pulse!
Next to her is a familiar face. A man with deep-tan skin and blond hair. The one whose dreams the Interpreter Center erased almost half
a year ago. Bodie.
His heart skips a beat. He feels sweat budding on his temples. The dinner in his stomach is threatening to come back up.
Aris!
He runs around the room, going from body to body, looking at each face. No Aris. Relief washes through him.
He looks around at the room full of dead bodies and has a sudden need to get out. He rushes to the door and forces it open. He is outside. The cold air makes him feel better.
He leans against the worn wood siding of the house. He breaths in slowly, trying to calm himself. His mind is swarming with questions. What happened here? Where are Aris and Metis? Do they have anything to do with this? Who is Metis? Why is he always where trouble is? And who is he to Aris?
Thane needs to find out. But first he must report this. He brings up his wrist.
“Get me the nearest police,” he says to his watch.
“Where are we going?” Aris asks, her voice trembling.
Metis’s head is pounding. Trying to work through what he just experienced is like attempting to count all the stars in the sky with naked eyes—torturous and impossible. It is late, and they need rest.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he says.
“Your house or mine?”
“The Hotel of the Desert. We’re almost there.”
“Shouldn’t we leave Elara?”
“We didn’t do anything wrong, Aris. Everyone who saw us is dead.”
“But you’re the Sandman.”
He stops in his tracks.
How did she find out?
“Seraphina told me. She wanted you to leave because you need to be protected. Absinthe needs to be protected. When were you going to tell me this?”
“Aris . . .”
“You don’t trust me.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How does it not matter? You’re the Sandman, the one who gives the Dreamers Absinthe so they can remember their past.”
“I’m not the Sandman anymore.”
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