The Dream Travelers Boxed Set #2: Includes 2 Complete Series (9 Books) PLUS Bonus Material

by Sarah Noffke

  “That’s not what this is,” Adelaide says too loud as Lucien makes to crawl for my pops’s head like he’s taking the high road before the avalanche.

  “He won’t let me live my life. And because he’s in charge of the fucking universe, Ren gets to tell everyone what to do,” she says, casting a finger at me.

  “It’s really awful for her,” I say and now my mouth rests half on my hand, my words obstructed from my palm’s interference.

  “See, and he doesn’t even care. He’s fucking sleeping while I’m trying to save the bloody world,” she says.

  I do wake now. I don’t rouse completely but I do uncross my legs and look at Adelaide straight on. “Why the fuck do you think I’m so tired?” I say to her.

  “Because you play too much online poker?” she says.

  “No, dimwit. Because saving the world and managing a family is exhausting. Go take care of your child and thank me later for keeping your life manageable. If you stay in this line of work then you’ll hardly see Lucien. So go ahead and thank me for keeping your workload to something you can bear for now,” I say.

  I can tell immediately that she wants to apologize. She realizes I had good intentions. Strategic ones too, although she may not know the specifics yet.

  “Well, let’s just forget about this for now,” Pops says, always the calming voice in the family.

  “Yeah, let’s,” I say, turning on my side in my armchair, almost cuddling up like I’m going to fall asleep here.

  “What’s going on down here?” Dahlia says from the stairs. She’s in her white silk pajamas. As beautiful as ever.

  “Look, you’re loud enough to rouse the dead and the almost dead,” I say.

  “Ren!” my pops admonishes at once. He sets down the monster, who rushes at me immediately, like my crotch is a magnet.

  “What are you doing up, Dahlia dear?” Pops says, walking over and taking the weak woman’s hand.

  “Just heard noise, is all,” she says.

  Adelaide, who senses the tension, swoops in and pries Lucien off my leg. “We will be going,” she says.

  “Yes, why don’t you,” I say and then turn my attention to the woman still looking down at me from the stairs. She looks as I’ve always seen her, more powerful than all the world’s forces. And yet she’s weak. Just a body subjected to life’s forces. I want to tell her I love her. That she should go rest and that I’ll join her soon. But instead I remain silent.

  “Ren didn’t mean that thing about you almost being dead. I’m praying for you, sweet Dahlia,” my pops says, and then adds, “Every day.”

  “He’s only saying that because he knows you’re dying and there is not much else to say to you,” I say.

  “Reynold Lewis, you take that back,” he says in the voice of my mum. There must be a ghost in the room. Feels like it.

  “I won’t,” I say, actually rising from the chair. “The love of my life is dying and I’m dealing with it in my own way,” I say as I walk to the stairs and take Dahlia’s hand. “I’m making every moment a fresh, honest one so that one day I can move on.”

  Dahlia smiles at me but I hear my pops’s disgruntled sigh at my back.

  “How can you think of moving on when she’s still alive?” he says.

  “Because,” I say, Dahlia’s eyes unwavering on me, “I know where I’ll be after she’s gone.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Why are you dragging me out here?” Adelaide says.

  “Because I’m a mean and intolerable man,” I say to Adelaide as the driver turns a corner. The streets here in Alaska aren’t paved. Actually they hardly classify as streets.

  “Is this bring your daughter to work day?” she says from the other side of the backseat, her eyes trained out the window, taking in the landscape littered with overgrown brush and out of control trees.

  I turn to my own window and the doubt settles in just then. What am I doing this for? Is it to prove something to me or to Adelaide or to prepare her for the future? It’s a rare moment when I’m not sure of my reasons. My instinct just told me to bring her along today. And I’m uncertain why it had to be on this case, one cloaked in mystery.

  “You want to work higher level cases, right?” I say.

  “When did you start asking obvious questions? Don’t you always say you don’t waste your own time?” she says with her usual sneer.

  I roll my eyes but silently punish myself. The work and constant researching is taking a toll on my usually incredible competence.

  “You might think that working higher level cases will be fun and cool and make you feel like one of those fucking leather jacket–wearing detectives popular on the telly. The type that smack their gum and look like they just graduated from high school but they know how to crack the toughest cases although they can hardly wipe their own ass. And they do it all with perfect hair before winking with a sparkle in their teeth which have suffered too much orthodontics. Is that right?” I say.

  Adelaide blinks at me rapidly, a confused expression on her face. “Right now I can’t believe you said half of those words.”

  “My point is that I’m fairly certain you’ve constructed this idea that being an agent is hip. And you’ve deluded yourself into thinking working higher level cases will be like how they portray it on crap television,” I say.

  “And you brought me here to show me that it’s not glamorous and takes a lot of work and is a thankless job,” she says in a low, disinterested monotone.

  “No. I brought you out here to show you that it’s a highly satisfying job but it takes a ton of experience that you don’t earn overnight. Just because you’re successful at level one cases it doesn’t mean you should be promoted immediately. The Peter Principle is a very real concept and I’m not about to have Trent promote you to a level of incompetence,” I say.

  “Yeah, that all makes sense, but I’m tired of stopping kids from stealing video games and helping single dads when they lose their wallets,” she says, referring to her last two cases.

  I nod. I remember all too well working shit level one cases and wanting something that challenged me. However, Adelaide takes her intelligence for granted sometimes. She needs to see that it’s not just having mind control and superior reasoning that makes us great. Strategy is the key and it’s not bought or inherited. It’s engrained through discipline and experience.

  “Just try and keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. This is a level five case and I only want you observing. No input or sniveling remarks that will no doubt diminish my unyielding patience,” I say.

  “Right-O. I’m just going to sit back and watch how the salty old-timer gets it done,” she says and pulls down on her invisible cap.

  “If you want me to make you throw yourself from this vehicle then just say it next time,” I say and then direct my attention to the driver, who is wearing overalls and a cowboy hat. He obviously cares extremely little about his life or other people’s impression of him. “We are up here on the right,” I say to him.

  “Yes sir, I’m well aware based on the coordinates you gave me. I know these parts better than I know my belly button,” he says with a thick hick accent.

  I grimace that he actually said that out loud.

  “And I happen to think you took me on this case because it’s in the backwoods of nowhere and you thought it would be entertaining to watch me slog through the wild frontier of Alaska,” Adelaide says.

  This case has taken us to northern Alaska where the closest GAD-C is hours away. We had to fucking fly and we’ve been in this car for what feels like a fortnight. I would have driven myself but I knew I was too exhausted.

  “It pleases me that you realize that everything I do revolves around making your life hell. It is truly all about you and not about investigating a case that has stumped the news reporting department and left us with more questions than answers,” I say.

  “Yeah, I knew all along this trip was just an a
ttempt to torture me,” she says as the car veers to the right, pulling onto the grassy side of the road.

  “So what is all this about? What tragic event are we stopping?” Adelaide says, her eyes searching the pasture beside the car.

  “We aren’t,” I say, noticing the old farmer tense after eavesdropping and hearing Adelaide’s question. “We are too late.”

  “What? How can that be? You got this event from the news reporting department, right?” she says.

  “Yes, one of the clairvoyants saw it but we knew from the time stamp that by the time we flew and drove out here the event would have already come to pass,” I say, jerking up my arm so that the sleeve of my suit jacket slips back enough to reveal my watch. “The event happened an hour ago.”

  “Well, maybe Aiden should have gone back in time and installed a GAD-C in this location so we could have been here in time,” she says.

  That’s not a horrible idea but of course I won’t tell Adelaide that. And besides, GAD-Cs take an incredibly long time to build and must undergo a significant amount of testing before deemed safe. That’s why there are still only a dozen of them worldwide. And many of those were destroyed in the recent battle.

  “So if this event has already happened then why are we here?” Adelaide says, twirling her long red hair around her pale finger.

  “To investigate,” I say simply as I open the car door. The sun is high in the Alaskan sky although it’s not even morning. This is that revolting part of the northern hemisphere where the sun shines all day in the summer months. Obviously redheads aren’t welcomed here. Worse than the bloody sun seeking to mess with everyone’s circadian rhythm is the fact that the land out here is thick with high grass. My first step into the open prairie and I find a puddle of mud. Hopefully it’s only mud. I turn back to the car where Joe Bob or whatever the fuck his name is stands with his thumbs tucked into his armpits and is whistling loudly. “Come with us,” I say to him.

  He blinks with surprise. “But it sounds like you two are detectives and I’m just a local,” he says.

  “Exactly. I need to ask you questions about what we’re about to find,” I say.

  At this he gives me a cautionary look.

  “Come on already,” Adelaide says to the tentative redneck. “We haven’t got all bloody day.”

  The hick is immediately offended based on the look on his prematurely wrinkled face but he trudges forward anyway.

  “I didn’t understand half of what you two were talkin’ about in the car,” he says.

  “And after this you won’t remember it,” I say to the guy.

  Apparently that doesn’t scare him or he thinks I’m bluffing because he simply nods as he tears a piece of long grass from the earth and sets it between his teeth and starts to chew.

  “Where we headed?” he says, squinting from the sun.

  Using my photographic memory, I recall the path we need to take and set off to the right, pushing the grass away as I move forward. It’s about waist high here.

  “Are there snakes in this area?” Adelaide says.

  “No, ma’am. It’s too cold for ‘em,” the farmer replies. “But even if there were, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them. They’d have heard us coming and slithered away.”

  “You going to give us any hint as to what we are looking for or should we start by playing twenty questions?” Adelaide says, a few feet behind me, the driver behind her.

  “Yes, here’s your hint,” I say, stopping just before the clearing. The grass lies flat here. “If you open your bloody eyes and look around then you’ll see it.”

  “Oh, fuck!” Adelaide says, having come around from behind me and stopped. Her hand claps to her mouth immediately.

  “Jesus Christ,” the man says on my other side. He grabs his cowboy hat off his head and presses it to his chest as he takes in the scene in front of us. The bodies of thirteen dead wolves lie in the grass, lined up one after the other in the open field. They are arranged almost thoughtfully, with their front paws touching the head of the wolf in front of them. And they’ve all had their throats slit exactly the same way, I notice as I near, careful to avoid destroying the crime scene.

  “Watch where you step,” I say.

  “Because of footprints?” Adelaide says.

  “Yes, however, that’s unlikely going to help us much although I never discount a clue. But also traps. We don’t know who we are messing with,” I say.

  The dumb farmer counts the wolves because he can’t do it at a glance like me. “I do believe this is the Lompoc pack,” he says. “This is their territory.”

  I nod. I knew the local could be helpful.

  “Who would do such a thing?” he says. He hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. Jerald or Arnold or whatever his name is doesn’t know that evil is normal in this world. People kill and sabotage this planet for the sheer joy of it. Well, and also because they are greedy fuckers who never think they’ll have enough unless they destroy.

  I kneel down closest to the nearest wolf. At first glance something seems off about the canines and then the answer is obvious.

  “They’ve had all their blood withdrawn,” Adelaide says. She noticed it too based on the animals’ appearance.

  “Yes,” I say, standing. Then I turn to the local. “Have you seen anyone unfamiliar in town or around here?”

  He tugs the grass he’s still chewing on out of his mouth. “Not that I can recall,” he says.

  “Are you familiar with the other packs in this area?” I ask him.

  “Well, sure. There’s a few,” he says.

  “I’m going to allow you to retain your memory of this but I want you to help us keep an eye on these packs. I’m sending three agents out here and you’re going to show them the pack’s territory and share any of their habits. Then you need to be observant and inform the agents if you notice anyone strange lurking around here,” I say.

  “Well, detective, I’d like to help but I’ve got my own responsibilities,” he says.

  “You will help the agents to track the packs,” I say with an intention in the words.

  “Yes sir,” he says at once, easily being influenced by my mind control.

  Then I turn to Adelaide, who is still studying the dead bodies. “We need to go. Let’s dream travel from the car. It’s imperative I get back to the Institute,” I say, and the reason is mostly that I’m exhausted. That’s why I was unable to teleport out here. I’ve momentarily lost the power to use that skill since I have to be in perfect health to do it successfully. Trey also isn’t able to teleport due to his condition. He suffered too much trauma during the battle.

  “Wait, am I one of the agents who gets to work this case?” Adelaide says.

  “Of course not. This is a level five case. Remember you’re observing,” I say.

  “But I can do this,” she argues. “I can help you figure out why this happened.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You lack experience. I already know why this happened. Now I’ve got to figure out how to stop it,” I say.

  “What? You know? Why would someone do this? What do you have to stop?” she says.

  “It’s probably too late to intervene before this project gets off the ground, but I think my suspicions are correct,” I say.

  “What suspicions?” she says.

  “That someone is trying to make werewolves,” I say and turn for the car.

  Chapter Eight

  “I have incredibly fantastic, even, I would dare to say, mind-blowing news for you,” Aiden says when I finally acknowledge his presence. I’ve been standing in his lab for the better part of fifteen minutes, reading through some new research that just pinged my bloody phone.

  “You’re going to stop using ridiculous phrases like ‘mind-blowing’ and adding superfluous adverbs to your dumb announcements?” I ask, mock curiosity written on my face.

  He shakes his head, his lip tucked between
his teeth and a foolish grin on his face.

  “You’ve decided to off yourself so that humanity has a chance of not getting sucked into a fucking black hole, somehow driven by your awful technological experiments?” I say.

  “You’re not even close,” Aiden says, seeming to enjoy this exchange. He really needs to get out of the Institute more, well, at all. “And need I remind you that you’re requiring me to conduct one of these technological experiments.”

  “Reminding me of anything is a surefire way to earn brain damage,” I say.

  “Keep guessing. This is fun,” Aiden says and I almost break his neck right then using the pressure point technique Clint taught me, but I’m a man of great will and so I resist.

  “Well, my greatest hope was you were going to take yourself out after helping me with these projects, but it sounds like alas my dreams won’t come to fruition.” Then a rehearsed spark lights up my eyes and I connect with Aiden. “You’ve figured out how to make women more tolerable and are giving me the technology to test on Adelaide? Is that right? And this technology definitely still has bugs in it and could fry her brain, but this is a chance we are all willing to take for a better tomorrow?” I say in one rushed string of words.

  He laughs. “Adelaide is hilarious to have around. Most people don’t warm to her immediately, but she reminds me of one of my favorite people and I find her humor to be extremely awesome.”

  I narrow my eyes at the dimwit. “Extremely and awesome should never be paired. Putting them together is like calling something very unique. It is simply a waste of words.” I look up to the heavens. “God, am I the only human you created who is practiced in my use of words?”

  “He probably won’t answer that question,” Aiden says with a chuckle. “I ask God all sorts of questions, but only science ever answers back.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I say, lowering my chin. “So no technology that will make Adelaide more tolerable, then? What’s the good news? And if it’s that you got a new pair of sneakers then consider yourself about to be buried in them.”