Hunted

by Dean Murray

  I opened my mouth, but Brad interjected a dose of humor into the conversation. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a poor substitute for Tristan. If you keep talking like that, I'll tell him to just date you and I'll go find someone else to date who's happy to settle for me instead of shooting for the proverbial moon."

  Sally hit Brad in the arm, harder than before, but still probably not hard enough to leave bruises or anything.

  "You know I'd rather be with you than Tristan. He's rich and gorgeous, but you're pretty hot yourself and you're way more fun than he is because you don't take yourself so seriously all of the time."

  The rest of the drive went by quickly. Sally and Brad still carried the conversation, but things weren't as strained as they'd been before. I'd started out the trip just hoping that I'd make it home without anything bad happening along the way. I hadn't expected to find out that Tristan was an even better guy than I'd realized.

  It didn't really change the big picture at all. Alec still completed me in ways that Tristan never could, and I didn't want to destroy Cindi's hopes by dating someone she had her heart set on, but now I felt a lot worse about some of the things I'd said to Tristan along the way.

  Chapter 25

  By the time that Brad and Sally dropped me off I was starting to wonder if Tristan had used some kind of code during the brief phone call when he'd asked Brad to take me home. I'd been listening to the entire conversation, Tristan's half at least, and I knew he hadn't said anything outright about me being scared, but Brad was awfully willing to stay with me until Tristan got back in town.

  All I could figure was that Brad was just more perceptive than most guys, but luckily he still bought my assurances that I'd be fine. Even so, he and Sally waited until I'd grabbed the spare key and let myself inside the house before they backed out of the driveway and drove away.

  I watched them go as I locked the front door and then I walked around the house double-checking that every single door and window was closed and secured. It only took a couple of minutes to confirm that I was as safe as I was going to get, at which point I started to calm down a little.

  I was home, the doors were locked, I had my phone so I could always call 911 if I needed to and then just hope that the police made it to my house before Jackson kidnapped me or killed me, or whatever it was he was planning on doing.

  Apparently I'd been running on pure adrenaline because as soon as I sat down a crushing, bone-deep exhaustion swept through me. I couldn't ever remember being so tired at any other point in my life, but something pulled at me, refusing to let me go to sleep. I realized what was missing just before the last of my strength poured out of me.

  I needed to warn Cindi. If Jackson was really the old man, then he'd know that I'd turn myself in to save Cindi. I had to keep her safe if I was going to be safe myself.

  Cindi still didn't have a phone, but it was a good bet that she and Missy had gotten together by now. Calling Missy's phone number was the last thing I really wanted to do—even if Cindi was with her I was going to get an earful before I'd possibly be able to get my message out—but I had to at least try.

  Missy's number was still in my call history. I dialed it and waited as it rang twice, at which point I was sent to voicemail.

  "This is Missy, but then you already know that, don't you? You know the drill."

  I waited for the beep and then let the words just tumble out of my mouth in an effort to get them all out before I lost my battle with sleep.

  "Missy, if you have any way to get ahold of Cindi please tell her to be careful and to stay away from Jackson. I'll explain later. Look, I know you hate me right now, but I didn't start all of this. Please just tell Cindi if you can."

  A huge yawn forced its way past my lips as I struggled to get the last word or two out. I blindly stabbed the disconnect button. I didn't remember lying down, but I was already on the couch in the living room. I had a moment to be grateful that I'd gone ahead and cleaned it up earlier that morning, and then sleep claimed me.

  I realized my mistake as soon as I saw my new surroundings. I'd fallen asleep and let myself start dream walking. I immediately tried to shift so that I was transparent similar to what the Native American had done the last time I'd seen him, but my skin simply turned gray for a heartbeat or two before lapsing back to its normal color.

  If I'd been in my own dream I'd have been able to accomplish the transformation and even more, but even here I should have been able to at least change my own appearance. Changing myself was always the easiest thing to accomplish. The fact that I couldn't manage even the slightest change right now couldn't be good. It had to either be because I was too tired still after my dream walk with Alec, or because I was inside the dream of someone whose mind was even more disciplined than the old man's had been.

  I needed to get out, get back to my own dream, but I already knew from past experience that I was hit-and-miss when it came to that. I looked around at my surroundings, trying to find somewhere to hide, and my heart sank.

  I was standing in the middle of a huge plain of uneven black glass. It looked like the glass had been there for a long time, because it was cracked in some places and I could see where the cracks had ground against each other like miniature fault lines in the Earth's crust.

  I took a tentative step forward and shards of glass crunched underneath my feet. Thankfully I'd come into the dream wearing sneakers, but that was the only thing about my appearance that was helpful. I was dressed back in my cheerleading uniform, the dark blue one that Cindi and Missy had destroyed, and I was uncomfortably close to being just as skinny here in the dream as I actually was right now in real life.

  I touched my cheeks with my fingers and they felt exactly like they did each night when I washed my face. I was out of time and I knew it. I finally saw a bigger crack in the ground a hundred yards or so away and took a step towards it, thinking it would provide at least a little concealment while I tried to rip myself free of this nightmare.

  Ribbons of agony lit up in my foot. I looked down and saw that my sneakers had disappeared, leaving the bottom of my foot to be savaged by the razor-edged shards of glass I'd just stepped on. My lunch started to come back up at the thought of walking across that distance without shoes, but I couldn't think of any other option.

  I took another step and was watching this time as my shoe disappeared. Knowing it was coming just made the pain worse, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to take yet another step. I looked down again and the sight of the bright-red, bloody footprints I was leaving behind nearly pushed me over the edge. I had to close my eyes for a second and focus just on my breathing and even then I still almost threw up.

  With my eyes closed it was easier to ignore what was happening to my feet. The pain was just signals traveling along damaged nerves, it didn't mean anything, wouldn't mean anything once I was awake again. I'd completely ruined my nails in that one dream and just had to deal with a little bit of phantom pain the next day. As long as I didn't die here I'd be okay, and I was pretty sure it would take a while to bleed to death from the lacerations on my feet.

  Keeping my eyes closed helped me endure the pain, but a few steps later I tripped and fell. I tried to catch myself with my hands, but remembered at the last second what that would do to them and jerked them back out of the way. I landed on my right side with enough force to knock the wind out of me and then rolled over onto my back.

  More blood soaked through my uniform from the new cuts on my shoulder and side and I suddenly realized that the pain was going to make it even harder than normal to leave this dream and get back to reality.

  I tried to roll back to my feet, only I couldn't because someone had put their foot on my throat. It was the wax lady. There was no way that she should have been able to follow me like that without me realizing she'd been there, but somehow she'd done it. She'd watched while I tried to make it to safety, possibly she'd even been the reason my shoes had disappeared, and she'd obviously enjoyed i
t based on the cruel smile that was the only part of her face that wasn't melted into a featureless blob.

  "I almost couldn't believe it when he called to tell me that it was you all along, Adri Paige. You have no idea how much effort I've expended over the last few weeks trying to find you. He practically worked himself into a frenzy tonight after realizing the way that you'd fooled him for so long. They both did, and they hardly ever see eye to eye anymore."

  Acting with no more feeling than a normal person would squish a bug, the wax lady stomped down on my stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

  "My name is Pamela, but you will address me as Master."

  My diaphragm had unclenched enough for me to breathe again and I even managed to talk. "How do you know that I'm really Adri? I can change my shape inside the dream, you know."

  She kicked me in the kidney, but there still wasn't any rancor in it yet, it was like she was disciplining a dog. "Oh, I'm quite positive that it's you, Adri. I'm sitting outside your house hidden in some bushes and I'm only partly dreaming. A portion of my mind is here with you, but the other half is watching this little scene unfold from inside of your mind. Nothing you do can surprise me at this point and the fear coursing through your system over the last few minutes has amply proved that you're the prey I've been hunting."

  She looked at me once again, surveying my bloody clothes and damaged feet before nodding to herself.

  "I believe it's time to conduct the rest of this interview face to face."

  A chill ran up my back and came to rest somewhere at the base of my neck. She was talking about breaking into my house and if she really was right outside like she'd said, then there was no way that anyone could get there to save me before she made it inside.

  It was crazy, I wasn't at any less of a disadvantage here than I was fighting against her in the real world, but as she closed her eyes to concentrate I kicked her in the stomach. There wasn't much power behind it, but the blow caught her completely by surprise and I was profoundly grateful for how much more flexible I was after a few weeks of cheerleading.

  Normally I would have said it would be impossible for me to kick someone while lying on the ground like that, but adrenaline gave me the extra push I needed and I doubled her up enough that she collapsed to the ground, taking gashes of her own against the unforgiving glass in the process.

  I half turned to run away in the hope that doing so would allow me to escape back to the real world, but before I'd even taken my first step I realized that was the wrong thing to be doing. I needed to keep her here in the dream for as long as possible. It was unlikely it would make any difference in the end, but there was a very slight chance that if I could keep her busy for long enough Tristan would arrive at my house before she could come get me.

  It put Tristan in all kinds of danger, but I had to at least try. Maybe she wasn't as scary as some of the other supernatural creatures out there, maybe her abilities didn't include the kind of increased speed and strength that the Native American had demonstrated.

  I turned back towards her and as I stepped forward I kicked her as hard as I could in the stomach. This time it wasn't a cheerleader kick that was thrown primarily from the hip, this time I kicked her like I would have kicked a soccer ball and the force of the impact knocked her over onto her left side.

  I'd obviously knocked the wind out of her, but as I hauled back for another kick, this one to her face, her hands blurred forward so that they were between us. She caught my kick, still moving faster than I'd ever seen anyone else move before, and dumped me on the ground.

  I was completely unprepared, so I hit hard enough that I saw stars, but I tried to get back to my feet as quickly as possible. Being trapped on the ground was the worst possible place to be when it came to a fight like this, but even before I'd stopped sliding across the glass she jumped on top of me, trapping me against the ground with her weight.

  "You've got more fight in you than I expected. That's good. It means that the next few months and years are going to be a lot more unpleasant for you than they otherwise would have been, but I've found that people with spirit tend to make the best slaves once I've finally managed to break their will."

  We were both incredibly bloody by now and she had a stream of blood dripping down into one eye, but it didn't seem to bother her, at least not much. She blew at it, kind of like you'd do to clear a stray hair that was tickling the side of your nose, but she didn't release my hands to wipe it away like I would have been tempted to do.

  "I owe you a slight debt of gratitude. Just now I was ready to come get you in the flesh, but that would have been a mistake, a lost opportunity if you will. I'll be punishing you quite a lot for the next little while and those kinds of things will take a lot out of your poor human body. Here I can punish you over and over again and I suspect that you'll be just fine tomorrow morning. It's a rare advantage that I hadn't fully appreciated up until now."

  The smile, absent for the few seconds when I'd been resisting her more or less effectively, was back now and she moved one hand to my shoulder and pushed. The glass beneath me had already been cutting into every part of my back, but she applied pressure in just the right way to slide my flesh across the ground and shred it even more.

  "Normally bleeding someone out like this is much more work."

  I was out of ideas. At least here inside of her own dream she was faster and stronger than me. I was completely at her mercy. In the real world I could hope for Tristan to come help me, or maybe for a nosier-than-average neighbor to see her skulking in the bushes and call the cops, but here there wasn't anyone who could help me.

  Even as I thought it, I realized that it wasn't exactly the truth. I'd encountered exactly three other people while dream walking who had been supernatural in some way or another. I was pretty sure that Jackson was the old man and that he was working for her somehow, but the Native American had demonstrated as much control over the dream as either of the other two and he'd been the only one actually willing to teach me anything about how to survive here.

  Alec's words rang through my mind, but at the end of the day he didn't know whether the Native American—Dream Stealer—could be trusted any more than I did. There was a chance that I'd simply be exchanging one devil for another, but I knew deep down in my bones that I wasn't going to get away from the wax lady on my own. I was going to try to escape via fleeing to my own dream, but if that didn't work then I was going to do whatever I could to bring Dream Stealer to me.

  Fire raced up my right leg as she rubbed it against the ground, but I closed my eyes and told myself once again that it wasn't real pain, that I was going to wake up with nothing more than some faint aches from all of this.

  I struggled to assemble a coherent vision of the real world. I imagined the feel of the couch cushions on my back, I remembered the slight smell of stale beer that Cindi had never come home to clean up, and most of all I tried to bask in the feeling of being home, of being safe and secure. I wrapped my mental arms around all of those feelings and sensations in an attempt to hold them steady, and pushed with all of my might.

  The harder I pushed the more my anchors seemed to flicker and disintegrate. I might have been able to make it work without smell and touch, but it was the feeling of security that disappeared the quickest. Deep down I knew that I wasn't any safer in my home than I was here and that was robbing me of the certainty I needed to make an escape work.

  The wax lady wasn't holding me here with metaphysical mojo that I couldn't counter, but it turned out that she didn't need to. She'd created a reality inside this dream that harmonized with my circumstances in the real world in a way that made it impossible for me to escape.

  "Don't try to retreat back into yourself; I need you to fully experience this."

  The pain, which had faded to a dull but persistent roar, suddenly surged back up to the top of my mind. Even worse, it was joined by fresh agony as something sliced into my stomach. I opened my eyes to find that she'
d grown claws on the end of each of her fingers and was using them to make a red ruin of my midsection.

  My body tried to curl up in an involuntary motion meant to protect me from further damage, but she simply stabbed me in the shoulders as she pinned me back to the ground.

  The world around me flickered as I fought to hold onto consciousness. I couldn't afford to delay anymore. I'd done it once before, but even so, the odds of me being able to replicate what I'd done the last time I'd seen Dream Stealer were slim.

  I remembered how he'd made me feel, the mixed fear and hope that he'd represented almost from the first time I'd seen him. I remembered how sure of himself he'd seemed, and I willed him to appear behind the wax lady.

  Even if I was capable of reproducing my earlier feat, everything still all depended on him being asleep in the first place. I knew I was probably doomed, but I reached for him and strength drained from my body in a torrent that I couldn't sustain for more than a second or two. It was like a million tiny, invisible threads had sprouted from every square inch of my body and gone streaking away at impossible speeds. I could feel them lengthening, unspooling from my body and taking something vital with them, but as terrifying as that was, now that the process had started I wasn't sure I could stop it even if I was willing to give up my last chance at survival.

  One of the threads found something or someone and more strength poured into it as the thread thickened, turning from something no thicker than spider silk into a massive steel cable that was impossibly strong.

  My heart was fluttering now, as if my body couldn't sustain everything I was trying to do, but the other threads were dissolving back into my body and I felt my pulse stabilize somewhat as I reabsorbed some of the strength they'd robbed me of earlier.

  The tiny threads were all gone, leaving just the massive cable and whatever it had made contact with across a distance that was simultaneously nothing at all and the most impossible distance imaginable. The cable jerked in my mental hands as whoever I had caught started to struggle in an attempt to free themselves.