Dream Job (The Dreamwalker Chronicles Book 1)

by Pettit, Gregory

  “Goddamn it, Ena! You’ve claimed again and again that they’re just making that stuff up for the police, but here he is throwing it at us when it clearly isn’t in his interest just because he’s hacked off!” Tara said. The lawyer jumped to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at the shapelier woman.

  “T., I’ve told you a dozen times that Kelly’s claims are bullshit. If we really were hurting our clients like they claim, we’d have known about it by now. People are just jealous of how we’ve got ahead. Hell, I was telling you all of this just before Captain America here arrived. Shite, let’s just have Derrick beat the hell out of him and get to the restaurant,” Ena said.

  Not only was I amazed at the implication that Tara didn’t know what they had been doing, but I was interested to note that they didn’t mention needing to fetch any of the requested items, which meant that the goods were on-site. Our plan could work.

  “Look, Tara, Ena, I’m making you an excellent offer and, for once, you know that I’m being entirely genuine about the time pressures on both sides. We want to quit worrying about the legal and supernatural sword of Damocles hanging over our heads, and you want to—” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence, as the lawyer’s head swiveled toward me. Her cream-colored suit was lit by the rays of the setting sun until it looked blood red, and her eyes blazed with a suddenly kindled rage.

  She ground her words out like a glacier crushing stone: “What did you say?” Her head swiveled again until it faced her partner: “Did he say that there is a supernatural threat to them? How would that happen? As you say, we just discussed this ten minutes ago, and we agreed that no action of that sort was to be taken against Kelly!” Tara screamed. She raised her balled fists and crossed the room to her partner, who was just rising to her feet. I took a cautious step toward the opening mechanism for the hidden room, but neither woman was paying any attention to my movement.

  “T., I…I don’t know what he’s talking about. Look, let’s just go to the restaurant. Derrick can shut him up now, and we’ll sort this all out later. I just can’t concentrate…” The heavier woman’s voice came out sounding hesitant and petulant, which did nothing to placate the belligerent lawyer, who loomed even closer.

  Derrick reacted to his lover’s words immediately, and a gleeful grin crossed his face as he strode across the room toward me with violence flashing in his eyes. Perhaps it was too many blows to the head, but I still didn’t feel any fear, and I took a couple of shaky steps forward to meet him.

  I don’t know if it was the additional tension from the detective’s threat of violence or the fact that we were almost within arm’s reach, but at that moment, Tara snapped. There was no scream of rage, threat, or ultimatum, but instead just a single word: “Liar.”

  Before the sound waves from the accusation bounced off the walls, the first punch landed with a meaty thwack and was followed quickly by a crash as Ena plopped out of her chair with all of the grace of a scoop of ice cream toppling off of a cone.

  The Redderton man snarled as he skidded to a stop and reversed directions. “Ladies, break this up!” He tried to sound impartial but immediately grabbed the brunette lawyer underneath the arms, slipping in a full nelson headlock. Not wasting any time, I darted for the book that Kelly had told me to pull on to open the hidden room. I thought that whoever had chosen it had a twisted sense of humor as I pulled down on a copy of Agatha Christie’s Eleven Missing Days. I ignored the struggle just a few feet away. Sounds of sobbing and the screech of a desk across the tile floor reached my ears. I pulled on the book and there was a click; I stared stupidly for a moment and almost panicked as the stationary bookcase didn’t budge, but then I reached out and gave it a gentle push, and it spun easily on expertly installed counterweights. I strode into the room, grinning.

  The room beyond was just as Kelly had described it, and a small wooden shelf in the corner held the summoning implements: bowls, candles, chain, and other items needed for the ritual. And the book. I rushed across the room and grabbed the book, chain, and anything else that looked like it could be important.

  At this point, an observant person would be saying that there was no way I could get out of there with my takings; as soon as one of the others noticed what I was doing, they’d surely drop their differences long enough to stop me. If I had been alone, then that observant person would be right, but I had Father O. waiting for me outside. I hurried to the window and dropped everything into the alley, where he was waiting. It seemed unlikely that someone would be willing to assault a priest to get the items back, and he gave me thumbs-up before taking off at his best speed toward Old Street Station. I smiled again, worrying that it might become a habit if I didn’t watch out.

  That’s when the screaming began. Before I could turn to see the cause, my back flared with pain, the worst I’d experienced, and my knees buckled. I must have been in my own little universe of suffering for a few moments—the world went dark. Before my sight returned, I knew what I’d see when I looked up: the puca had arrived.

  I could only make out a small portion of the creature because it was obscured behind Derrick’s bulk, but I could see the women huddling about twenty-five feet away on the other side of the partners’ office, shaking in fear as Derrick grappled with the puca. He may have been a vicious, single-minded thug, but the man did not lack for courage, and I looked on in amazement as his fist pistoned in and out so hard that the creature squealed in pain when it connected. I thought back to the fight in my office and knew that if I went forward to help the Redderton man, it was likely that I’d only strengthen the creature’s hold on our reality. I felt like a coward, but I backed as far away as the ritual room would allow and watched. And then a thought occurred to me…how could Derrick see the creature now?

  CHAPTER 40 2030–2100, Tuesday, August 4, 2015

  ***Tara***

  The puca had materialized this time as a large shadow, and Tara was amazed at how quickly her shield of anger had drained away when it appeared next to her. As she stood against the wall, watching Derrick fight the entity that had been the secret of so much of her success, part of her mind took the opportunity to really study it outside of the ritual setting. She thought that she might call it black, except that it was more an absence of light than any particular color, with red, red eyes. It seemed roughly man shaped this time, but it was at least a quarter larger than its previous appearance at the pharma company offices, towering to nearly seven and a half feet, and she wondered why.

  It was so big that she was amazed that Derrick had managed to stop it when it had charged out of nowhere, swinging plate-sized hands at her, but the man had risen to all six feet of his frame, locked his arms around its midsection, and body slammed it into the wall. The creature raked at his back, and great bloody rents appeared on his skin while the veins of his neck stood out half an inch. Sweat was already pouring down his back after only a minute of effort as he held on with one arm and threw short, vicious punches with the other. She didn’t want to bet on whose strength would give out first.

  Even as she considered Derrick’s battle, Tara felt her initial surge of terror subsiding and looked around for Julian. She spotted him pressed against the far wall of the ritual room and snarled; he had almost fooled her into thinking that she’d somehow been partially responsible for the deaths of dozens of her clients. However, it had all been a ploy to get close enough to somehow get the creature to attack them so that he could steal the ritual implements. At the back of her mind, she knew that this explanation didn’t make complete sense, but the blood pounding in her temples drowned out the voice of reason.

  In front of her, Derrick lowered the creature to the ground, his bulging biceps unable to hold it any longer as blood ran freely down his flanks, but he didn’t let go and kept it pressed against the wall, holding it away from the women. Tara hadn’t fought her way through law school by being weak, and with her indignation as a shield, she raised her hands and dropped into a boxer’s stance, adv
ancing on her dark benefactor. It was paying hardly any attention to the detective wrapped around its midsection, and as he tired, it turned its whole focus in her direction. Its crimson eyes bored into her as they locked gazes, and she felt her nostrils flare as, back heaving, she gulped down lungfuls of air in preparation for a fight.

  “Tara—look at your hand!” The shout came from the ritual room and at first, Julian’s imprecation didn’t make any sense. Why should she look at her hand when her enemy was in front of her, taunting her, whispering for her to vent her wrath on it? After another step, the words finally caused her to glance at her upraised right fist, and the bottom fell out of her world.

  She pivoted in a single fluid motion; in that moment, for the first time in years, she was truly calm. Not the calm that comes from physical exhaustion or the calm that comes from a bottle, but the calm that comes from acceptance. Acceptance that you’ve done wrong, acceptance that someone else is cleverer than you, acceptance that your whole life has been a lie, and acceptance that you deserve to be punished. That calm precision guided her right fist as it lashed out with the strength of hundreds of hours of training and drove hard into Ena’s kidney. She heard a satisfying whompf of air escaping, and the redhead lost her lunch all over Tara; there was almost enough to cover the glowing mark on the back of her hand.

  The other woman collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, hitting the floor with a thud. Kelly and the American hadn’t been lying; OMG had been responsible for so many broken families. Her own family had survived at the price of how many other shattered homes? Dispassionately, she leaned over Ena, wrapped her hands around the heavier woman’s throat, and started squeezing. She could hear Derrick still struggling with the monster behind her as it tried to break free. It scratched and heaved against the Redderton man, and in his almost superhuman effort to hold on to the creature, he must not have noticed her actions; otherwise, he would have marched to his lover’s aid. It was almost ironic that the creature that had been meant to kill her was now her protector, and she continued to ponder that state of affairs as the other woman’s face went red and then purple within her tightening grip.

  Tara felt the satisfaction of a job well done creeping into her cage of detachment and knew that it would all be over for her partner in just a few more seconds but suddenly, Ena’s eyes popped open, and the office was filled with screaming again for the second time that afternoon. This time, the sound came from no human throat.

  ***Julian***

  I’d been watching with a great measure of schadenfreude as the OMG group began to tear itself apart, and I had hope for a moment that I might actually be able to pull this whole ridiculous plan off. Hope’s a bitch.

  The screams bypassed my ears and drove straight into my brain as the puca howled. This time, I’d had no warning, and I went to my knees while my vision swam as I fought to hold on to consciousness. When my sight cleared, it was obvious that the attack hadn’t been aimed in my direction, as the detective and the two OMG partners were all laid out on the floor, blood trickling from their eyes and mouths.

  The puca stomped forward, the floor screeching with every step it took as its shadowy nails or hooves ground against tile. It looked like the psychic assault had taken something out of the puca, because it was slower and almost tentative as it closed the distance across the ritual room. Weakened as it was, there was no way that I could take it on in my current state, and if past experience was any guide, it would likely strengthen as it got closer to me.

  I heaved myself up, making my view of the room fade in and out. As if to underscore that fact I was in no shape for a fight, I wiped a hand across my eyes to clear my vision, and it came back smeared with blood. I was pretty sure that was a bad thing.

  The puca was only ten feet away as I regained my balance, and I knew that I had to act now if I was going to escape. Even if my body was broken, I still had my will, and it was unbent. I’d only succeeded in using my skills from the land of dream in the real world a few times before, but each time had been around the creature, and each time had caused me to fall unconscious almost immediately after. I glanced out the window, took a deep breath, and jumped.

  ***Tara***

  Tara’s head felt like it was going to split in two as the sound of shattering glass dragged her back to wakefulness. The calm that she’d felt was gone, replaced by a sudden desire for vengeance. The planning and deceit that it must have taken for Ena and the creature to have tricked her for so long and then mark her for death was astonishing. She watched as the shadowy monster lunged after Julian, hands extended like talons as it tried to stop him from plunging out of its reach. Within seconds, the thing began to fade away, like smoke on the wind, and just before it vanished from view, she thought there was a final thin cry of frustration. It was time to finish what she’d started.

  Tara noted that she’d lost her shoes at some point in the struggles and decided that was excuse enough to crawl over to Ena. The other woman’s eyes were slitted until she noticed the lawyer’s advance, at which point, they flew wide open. Tara lunged and wrapped her hands around Ena’s throat again, noting the bruises already rising from her first attempt, and it brought her favorite quote to mind: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

  The other woman tried scratching and kicking; one well-manicured red nail dug a furrow through Tara’s face, drawing blood, but Ena was already weakened from being choked earlier. Her victim’s motions were slowing down again, and Tara leaned in hard, putting her full weight into the choke. She felt a hand grab the back of her neck.

  “Love, that’s quite goddamned ’nough of that!” Derrick’s voice took on a rougher cast as he violently jerked the lawyer off of Ena. Tara stumbled and fell onto her posterior as the redheaded woman choked and gasped for breath on the floor. The detective was kneeling down and whispering to his lover, making sure that she was going to be okay. They weren't going to be gentle with her after she'd tried to kill Ena. Tara looked at the calluses and scars on the Redderton man and shivered at the prospect of falling into his brutal hands.

  Tara’s heart pounded. She couldn’t allow herself to be captured; if she was, then they’d never pay for making a fool of her, for trying to kill her, and for using her. The rage crept back in at the edges of her perception, and her fist clenched as she felt an urge to race forward and pound their faces in with her bare hands, but she knew that the detective always carried a pistol—entirely illegal in the Britain of this day and age—in an ankle holster. She’d seen the American escape out the window and, with the others between her and the door, there was really no other choice. If she could get out the same way, perhaps she could get Julian’s help by promising to throw in with his lot. Even as she backed toward the window, Tara’s mind was starting to formulate an entirely new plan, and she was sure that it was possible to get back on the winning side of this equation—after all, the pharma deal was in motion and should complete soon. She could work with Kelly to pin all of this on Ena, and then they could split the gain. My mother would be prou—

  Tara screamed as a burst of pressure and noise hit her. The bullet shattered her clavicle, exiting the top of her right breast in a spray of blood. She stumbled forward, grasping for the edge of the window. The pain was incredible, like someone holding a red-hot poker to her flesh. She took a deep breath and glanced back as she planted her good hand on the windowsill and heaved herself into space. That final glance showed the detective’s mouth hanging open in surprise and Ena, her bruised lips curled in an expression of contempt, pulling the trigger again and again. Tara felt a sting on her calf and another just above her hip, but they didn’t make nearly as much impression on her as did Ena’s black, black eyes.

  Then she fell.

  ***Julian***

  I sat on the ground, grinning, legs throbbing, back a mass of pain, and sporting a big red bump the size of a robin’s egg on my forehead. I’d just jumped out of a second-story window and survive
d. I knew that there was some reason that I should get going, but I was too pleased with myself to move just now. I’d managed to get the stuff (I wasn’t quite clear what it had been, but I knew I’d stolen it), and I’d escaped mostly in one piece. How had I done that again? Oh yeah, I’d turned the ground into a trampoline. Unfortunately, I’d not really thought it through and had bounced into the brick wall of the opposite building. Somehow it didn’t seem like that was what normally happened when someone hit the ground, but it didn’t seem important. I was pretty sleepy…

  It was the gunshots that snapped me back to reality. My head whipped painfully back toward the window, and I realized that I wasn’t out of danger. The last couple of times I’d treated the real world like the stuff of dreams, it had fought back with a vengeance, obliterating my consciousness and leaving me dead to the world for hours in a coma-like sleep. My heart pounded at the thought that I’d almost given in to that pressure and nodded off just outside of OMG’s offices.