by Sarah Noffke
“Hello, Adelaide,” Trey said, a wide smile lighting up his eyes. That was it! Those turquoise eyes. That’s what always caught her attention when she looked at Trey Underwood. They were piercing and held her focus. Kept her from looking elsewhere or studying the objects on the shelf behind him.
“Hi!” she said too loudly. Too fake. “Can I have a minute?”
“Always,” he said, spreading his hands on his desk. She thought for a minute that no one would know that Trey Underwood was paralyzed behind his desk. He just appeared like a regular man. Not one who fought an ugly terror and almost lost. It had been her father who rescued Trey. It was Trey who had rescued Ren a long time before that, if the rumors were to be believed.
She took the cozy chair across from him, trying not to get comfortable.
“Your father’s book?” Trey said, pointing at the leather-bound book in her hands.
She glanced down, like she’d forgotten it was pressed between her hands. She’d never forget something like that. “Yes, it’s why I’m here,” Adelaide said. “Ren writes about teleporting in the book, but I feel like I’m missing something. Will you help me?”
Trey seemed to evaluate Adelaide for a long moment. His green eyes ran over the features of her face, dissecting her. Measuring her.
“Teleporting is dangerous. Are you su—”
“Ren sent me to you for answers,” Adelaide said, the words slipping out of her mouth in a rush.
Trey’s mouth slammed shut and he took another appraising gaze at her. “He did. How did he do that?”
“I guess from the dreamscape or a parallel universe. I dunno,” Adelaide said with a shrug. “But I was practicing and failing at teleporting and he, or whoever, put the wooden cutting board under the tea tray.”
A laugh so rich and pure popped out of Trey’s mouth. “That sounds like Ren,” he said, doubling forward, his eyes shining bright. When he brought them up to Adelaide, he was sliding wetness from the corners of his eyes. “Sounds like he approves. So tell me, what do you want to know?”
“Well, I understand how to teleport, but I don’t actually understand how to do it,” she said, trying and failing to explain her predicament.
“Let me ask you, do you think you can teleport?” Trey said, pinning his palms together and holding his hands up in prayer in front of his face.
“Well, my father could teleport. I’d seen him do it many times, so…”
“That’s not the same thing. Do you think you can do it?” Trey said, angling his fingertips in her direction.
“I’ll admit that it’s a hard idea to digest. I mean, this is science fiction kind of stuff,” Adelaide said.
“Ren probably didn’t include this in his book because he was supremely confident. Probably one of the most confident people I’ve had the fortune to meet, but not without good reason,” Trey said. “But the major factor with teleporting is confidence. It’s the belief that you can that will actually make it happen.”
“So as long as I doubt the possibility of me doing it, the more unlikely it is to happen?” Adelaide said. She should have guessed it was something dumb like that. It was always something ridiculously easy.
“Yes,” Trey said, releasing a small smile. “You should have seen the look on Ren’s face the first time I teleported in front of him. He didn’t believe what had happened. Later that became his greatest obstacle to teleporting. Once he realized it was doable, not just by me, but by him, then he was good.”
Adelaide nodded, although she didn’t truly understand yet. Telling someone to be confident about something as strange as teleporting was like asking them to believe they could fly or launch rockets with their mind. It still took a great deal of work for it to be real.
“Okay, thanks,” she said, robotically rising from the chair.
“There’s something else,” Trey said, his voice not a question.
“What?” Adelaide said.
“Not about teleporting. You have something else you want to ask me,” he said.
“Oh, well, no, not really,” she said, wondering how Trey always seemed to do that. Know things that he shouldn’t. He wasn’t telepathic. Ren had said that Trey was a dumb know-it-all. When she pressed her father about Trey’s Dream Traveler’s gift he said, “I’m serious. He’s a fucking know-it-all.” Apparently the gift of knowing was a thing.
“I was just wondering…” she said and trailed away. How do you ask what she wanted to know? How did she build up the courage to ask her father’s best friend this?
“You want him to come back?” Trey asked.
Her eyes darted to his. Of course he knew. “Don’t you?” she said.
“There’s not many things in this world I want more. I miss Ren every day. However, he can’t return to this world without Dahlia,” Trey said.
Dahlia. She’d been the reason Ren had left. The love of his life had died and he’d journeyed to the land of the dead to do what no one had ever done. He’d gone to rescue her. To live forever by her side. Adelaide simultaneously loved a relationship like that and resented it. This had been the cause of her father’s death. It was what he chose over her. But it was beautiful and selfish and absolutely like Ren. “So, he’s not coming back is what you’re saying?” Adelaide said.
“I don’t think so,” Trey said plainly. “But he’s found a way to communicate from wherever he is, so I don’t think you’ve seen the last of your father yet. If I know him, he’ll be watching over you for the rest of his existence.”
“Which will be…”
“Far longer than any of ours. I believe your father, in taking his own life the way he did, became a god,” Trey said.
Great, talk about living in her father’s shadow. Adelaide stood. “Thanks for your help,” she said.
“My door is always open to you,” Trey said and she knew he meant it.
Chapter Twenty-One
“An individual may be hurt in the dreamscape because that which happens to the mind will affect the body.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
“More,” Mika commanded, his arms folded in front of his chest.
Haiku nodded and grunted as he pulled the forty-five-pound plate off the rack, the weight making his shoulders hunch forward slightly. The director of security had been lugging weights back and forth for Mika all afternoon. He could usually handle a forty-five-pound plate fine, but the fatigue was showing on his sweaty face. It wasn’t his fault. Haiku was still recovering from being stabbed in the back, which took time, even with Olento Research’s technology. And he didn’t have increased endurance like Mika. That had been another skill he’d manufactured at Olento Research and now possessed. Just that morning he’d run twenty-six miles on the treadmill and didn’t sweat or become breathless. Now he still felt great and ready to test the other skill he had Drake give him.
Rubbing his fingertips together, Mika angled his back to the workout bench and sat down. Drawing in a breath he lay back, his eyes pinned on the bar stationed above him. Haiku came around to the other side, his small hands resting under the bar in a spotting position. That was ludicrous though. There was two-hundred and forty-five pounds on each side of the bar.
Wrapping his hands around the metal bar, Mika pulled in another breath and on the exhale he pressed up, angling the bar off the rack. The weight swayed back a half inch before Mika steadied it. Lifting five hundred pounds felt exactly as he had envisioned. Exhilarating. He drew the bar into his chest and pressed it back into the air, feeling the entirety of the weight. His super strength didn’t make heavy weight feel normal, but rather made him feel like he could handle anything. He knew there was a maximum to what he could lift, but it was significantly more than what most could do. And Mika had managed to increase his strength without building muscle. Actually he could deadlift over eight hundred pounds and his size hadn’t changed at all. Mika was never unassuming due to the cold stares he gave everyone, but no one would guess that he, li
ke Rio, could now punch through concrete. That would be his next test.
Extending his arms all the way, Mika slid the bar back onto the rack, aware that Drake was scribbling notes on his pad. Why the German scientist insisted on recording every step of Mika’s progress eluded him. He should be focusing all his attention on Project Vampyyri. However, that project had proven to be more difficult and costly than originally thought. Now they’d lost six more subjects. None of them made it past transformation. The Arcturian blood appeared to overwhelm the human subject’s system. The same thing happened with Project Canis Lupus. The first few subjects went feral when converted to werewolf. When Dream Travelers were used, their DNA rejected the wolf genes. That’s why it was decided to mutate Middlings and then convert them to Dream Travelers before they went feral. This had been the solution, but would it work with vampires?
Mika pressed up to a sitting position, noticing that his pulse was steady and he was breathing normally. “Have half a dozen Dream Travelers abducted,” Mika said to Drake, eyeing the towel Haiku was offering him, which he didn’t need. “Men,” he added, shaking his head at the towel.
“For Project Vampyyri?” Drake said, blinking away from his pad.
“Yes, for Project Vampyyri!” he boomed, his anger flaring suddenly. It had been like that since he had the strength enhancement done. Drake had said it was a result of the increase in testosterone, but an unavoidable consequence.
Drake merely pulled off his wire-rimmed glasses, pushing the pad under his arm as he wiped the lens with his untucked shirt. “That didn’t work in Project Canis Lupus. Why do you think—”
“I know clearly what worked and didn’t work in that project. I don’t pay you to question my orders,” Mika said, feeling the heat blaze across his cheeks. He considered picking up the dumbbell behind him and launching it at his chief scientist.
“You don’t pay me—”
“Finish that sentence and consider this minute to be your last!” Mika said, aware that everyone in the vicinity had stopped to watch him threaten Drake. He didn’t care.
“So I will be testing Project Vampyyri on Dream Travelers,” Drake said, not looking at all as tense as he should right then.
“Yes,” Mika said, blowing out a breath, feeling an uncaged beast wrestle for his will. He didn’t trust himself right then so he sat back down on the bench and pulled his eyes off of Drake. Staring at the scientist made him livid, more so than usual. “The Dream Traveler DNA rejected wolf genes, but the Arcturian blood is more sophisticated than human or wolf. It might assimilate whereas Middlings reject the complexity of the alien’s makeup.”
“That does make sense,” Mika heard Drake say from in front of him.
“Yes, and you should have thought of it. That is what I pay you for,” Mika said, hearing the thoughts of Haiku behind him and the other Olento Research employees pretending to work nearby. He could hear everyone’s thoughts, but not Drake’s.
“Yes, sir,” Drake said, sounding disconnected from the conversation and the order he’d been given.
“I want a vampire. How else does anyone expect me to get back what’s mine?” Mika said, each word growing louder until he was screaming.
No one said a word, but he heard the chorus of their negative judgments in his head. He didn’t care. Mika was a God and they were afraid of him. That’s exactly how it should be. God-fearing followers were the most reliable. The most worthy of being in his service.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“In dream travel, individuals take on a lighter appearance than in the physical realm.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
Clay just wanted to go home. Not like he’d done before when he’d driven by the house near LSU where he used to live. It was a turn-of-the-century house that he’d renovated. The process had made him want to quit, sell the house, and be done. However, when it was done he had the rustic charm of the old house, but with the modern conveniences, like large closets and a dishwasher. Yes, he wanted to return to that house, which now looked to be abandoned. However, he wanted more than anything to return to his job as a stockbroker and to his family. His siblings, three sisters and a brother, all lived in the surrounding areas of Baton Rouge. People often asked if they were close. How could they not be? How do you live with someone for the formative years of your life and not be close to them? There was no one who knew him better and no four people he knew better. And although Clay chose to spend most of his time working, working out, or drinking coffee alone in a diner, spending time with his family was still one of his favorite things in life. And now that had been taken from him, or so he thought.
What was really stopping Clay from returning to his family? The wolf had brought him back to Baton Rouge. However, then the beast had forbade him from visiting his family, telling him it wasn’t safe. Why did he listen to the monster inside his head? It’s not like it had the reasoning abilities he possessed. Still, he’d kept a distance, living the squatter life around town. Sleeping on the streets had been unbearable and now he was done with it. Inside him he felt the wolf longing for contact with family, with a pack. Why would it bring him home and refuse what they both wanted? It wasn’t like the men from the lab would really come after his family. Wasn’t that threat over? Or maybe he only hoped it was. The nightmares lived in his waking thoughts. They were a part of everything he did, remembering the surgeries, the torture, the lab lights swinging over his head as he was wheeled to another chamber for more probing.
Standing from the stadium seat, Clay opened his eyes, willing himself to look directly at the sight in front of him not just with his vision, but with his heart. It did what he’d suspected it would do. Looking at the field of LSU Tiger Stadium broke him inside, fracturing the heart he knew beat with his and the wolf’s blood. Before the mutation, this had been his second home, watching football games here. Now that possibility felt stolen from him. The small things, the ones he’d always appreciated and now craved, were another life. And it wasn’t fair. How could he have his life and not be able to live it?
Looking out at the green-and-white-striped field, Clay let out a guttural scream. He would return to his family. He’d return to his job. He’d take his house back. It didn’t matter who he was anymore. He wasn’t losing what he had, what he’d built. The scream opened a dam in him, and without him meaning to the power inside of Clay released. Under his feet the bleachers shook. The earth in front of him began to roll. Lights overhead creaked and things around the stadium broke loose and fell. But Clay didn’t pay attention to any of it or fear the earthquake happening all around him. One doesn’t fear what one does, only the repercussions that destroy that which they love. And that’s exactly what his emotions had done. They’d ruined, he realized, as he looked out at the field that now was broken. The deep crack split the ground in two on the other side of the stadium, about like how Clay was broken, fractured from the anger he’d allowed to stay stored away. That’s what happens when a man isn’t allowed to go home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“The Institute has created a device that generates a Dream Traveler’s body from the dreamscape. They dream travel to a location of a GAD-C and then follow the protocol. Their body will generate in that location in the physical form.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
“Are you sure I’ll be okay?” Connor said to Zephyr, a smile hidden below the surface, but his eyes giving him away.
“What are you afraid of?” Zephyr said, pacing back and forth in the main conference room. If he was honest, he was a little afraid too. But that’s what testing was for, right?
“That you’ll go crazy with hunger and attack me. I mean, we are unpredictable animals after all,” Connor said.
“It’s always a possibility, but that’s why I need to test with you. How else do we know the parameters of the procedure I underwent to integrate the wolf?” Zephyr said.
“Which is why you’re not doing this with Rox,” Connor
said. He was intuitive. More so than any of the other men. Zephyr had observed this about him from the beginning. He suspected that’s why Connor had gone down the path of drug use. People who are great observers and see more of the world also have a tendency to need a distraction from it. Knowing so much can be a curse. It seemed to Zephyr that Connor’s brain never shut off, which was why he’d created an “off” switch using drugs. He hoped Connor now had found other ways to deal with his greatness. Maybe experience it for what it was, rather than hide from it, like before. But still, he’d need help. Someone to help him when the balance shifted too dramatically for him to process. That’s when he would have turned to drugs. Zephyr was hoping that his beta would turn to him now.
“Yes, the wolf knows that Rox can’t be hurt. He doesn’t look at her with hungry eyes anymore,” Zephyr said.
“What an interesting choice of words you’ve used there,” Connor said, still reclined at the table, hands behind his head, always the pretend picture of casual.
Zephyr halted his pacing, which was failing at his attempts to quiet the simmering anxiety in his head. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, I know what you mean because the wolf has a taste for flesh. It hungers for certain things above other things. And so in werewolf form it knows that she’s not going to make a tasty snack. There’s no control involved with that at all. However, you also meant that for you, I’m guessing. Have you lost your hunger for Rox?” Connor said, leaning back more, seeming to be stretching his long back.
It was true that the wolf had desires that it spoke of in the men’s heads. And when a werewolf, that desire was deeper, usually uncontrollable. This was going to be part of the test today, to see if Zephyr could control the wolf when changed. But yes, the wolf remembered Rox. Knew she couldn’t be harmed. That she was a waste of time. And Connor was also right that along with the wolf losing interest in that which it couldn’t have, Zephyr had too. She knew it. He knew it. They were both fine about the situation. That’s how two adults who respect each other and who mutually entered into something behave when it doesn’t work out. Children quarrel and dig in their heels because they aren’t equipped for changes in relationships. They don’t get that everything always changes and holding on to it only makes it slip through their fingers faster.