Dream Keeper

by Amber R. Duell

  He followed my gaze. “The attic vents?”

  “A vent isn’t a window.” I launched myself up the back porch and peered through the sliding glass door. “It’s empty.”

  “Watch out.” The Sandman removed a small pouch from beneath his T-shirt like the one beneath mine. With a grin, he pinched a bit of sand from inside and blew it at the latch. The sand sparkled in the bright light before disappearing into the creases of the frame. A moment later, he twisted the knob and stepped inside, holding the door for me. “Open Sesame.”

  “That’s handy,” I mumbled, hesitating before following him into the kitchen. I couldn’t be caught breaking-and-entering right now. Detective Bell wanted nothing more than a pliable reason to lock me up—but I needed to see.

  The stillness of the house raised the hair on the back of my neck. Each rustle of our clothes as we moved through the hallways scraped my eardrums. Each footstep, a stomp. When we found the hatch to the attic and the Sandman pulled it down, unfolding the ladder, I cringed against the squeak of hinges.

  He stepped back and stared into the darkness above.

  “You first,” I whispered and followed him up the rungs.

  The attic was broiling. It wouldn’t be possible to survive up here long without overheating. That was the only consolation for finding the space empty. My shoulders drooped. If Katie wasn’t in any of these attics, where else should we look? There were so many possibilities that it made knowing impossible. Baku needed to give us something more concrete.

  “Did you hear that?” the Sandman asked.

  I froze and strained my ears. “What?”

  Then the distinct sound of a door opening drifted through the house. “I really think you’ll like this one,” a woman said. “It’s a new build, of course, with all the upgrades.”

  “A realtor,” I hissed. What were the odds?

  The Sandman ushered me up the last rung of the ladder and tugged the folding stairs back in place as quietly as possible. “Squeeze into the back corner.”

  My eyebrows rose, but I shuffled into the narrow space where the floor met the slanted roof. “How is this going to help exactly?”

  “Do you have the sand I gave you?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Good.” He squeezed in beside me and removed the sack from around his neck. “I need it.”

  My fingers dove into the ruffles at the base of my throat, and I unfastened the top three buttons. The Sandman’s eyes widened. “Relax,” I said, and tugged the bag free from the tank top I wore beneath my blouse.

  He opened and closed his mouth, the corners of his lips quirking. “If they come up here, pour it into my hands and be as quiet and still as you can.”

  “Again, how is this going to help?” I asked in a hushed, panicked voice. “You can’t put people to sleep on a ladder. They’ll fall and break their necks.”

  “I won’t put them to sleep.”

  “Then what? And if you joke about an invisibility cloak again, I’ll strangle you.”

  He raised an eyebrow, amused. “I’m going to create the illusion of empty space.”

  My eyes narrowed at the bag of fine, silvery sand. “Huh.”

  “One day, after this is all over, I’ll show more to you than your own dreams,” he said. A blush rose on the back of his neck. “I mean, if you want. If you decide you don’t want me to take the dream back.”

  My heart dropped like ice against the floor, sending tiny chips scattering in every direction. It was selfish to want to keep him to myself when the dream put everyone around me in danger. Keeping the secret kept the entire world safe, but that wasn’t why I hesitated. I was sure that I wanted no part of it. I wasn’t up to a burden like this but... “I don’t want you to take it. I can’t lose you too.”

  The backs of his fingers caressed my cheek, leaving a flush in their wake. I inched closer, the voices continuing below our feet. “I promised I would always be yours,” he said, earnest. “I will never break that oath.”

  His breath skated along my temple, and I shivered despite the overwhelming heat. “Sandman...”

  He nudged my ear with his nose. “I swear it, Nora. Even if you change your mind later.”

  “I know.” I clamped down on a moan as his lips danced across the edge of my jaw.

  “We spent so long not touching that it seems like I’ll never get enough. That I’ll never get close enough to you. Not like I want to,” he whispered. The next kiss was as light as his breath. “You should stop me.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” I asked, surprising myself. My entire body screamed for more. If it weren’t for the realtor downstairs, I might have said as much. Might. But I felt bold with him. Strong and safe. Secure.

  His lips crashed against mine and his blue fingertips rested against the sides of my neck as if I were made of glass. His breathing quickened at the same moment mine did. He tasted like spring. I wanted more. I didn’t want to be careful. Not anymore. I nudged his lips with the tip of my tongue and heard a groan catch in his throat. His hair was silken clouds between my fingers.

  A creak broke through the attic followed by a bang. “It’s a little warm up here right now, but the electrician should be back tomorrow to finish the central air.”

  The Sandman leaned away and cupped both hands together. “The sand,” he rasped.

  My fingers fumbled with the tie, and I poured the contents of both bags into his palms. The silver and blue tattoos on his arms came alive, and he turned and blew the contents into the air in front of us. It rippled in a sheet. He flipped his palms outward and the sand froze in place. It glowed for a moment before becoming a single translucent wall like the one around the beach.

  A man crawled up first with a flashlight, followed by a woman’s head. My pulse roared in my ears. This was it—we were doomed. The Sandman’s jaw clenched, his fingers spread wide before him. I wanted to inch closer to his side but didn’t for fear of making a sound.

  The woman swung a look around and shrugged. “It’s a lot of storage space.”

  “With such a spacious yard, there are some nice options for outdoor storage as well,” the realtor said from below. “Or if you need something bigger, a storage facility is only a few minutes’ drive.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” the man said. “This is plenty.”

  The beam of light swung back down the ladder. It seemed like forever before the ladder slammed shut, sealing us into darkness again.

  “That was amazing,” I breathed, my heart still racing. “It’s like we weren’t here at all.”

  The sheet of magic exploded into nothingness, and the Sandman sagged against the wall. “I can’t stay much longer,” he admitted. “It uses a lot of energy to be in your world.”

  I clenched my hands in fists. He couldn’t leave; we hadn’t found Katie yet. But I saw the tightness around his eyes and labored rise and fall of his chest. “You should go,” I said. “I’ll keep looking for a while.”

  He shifted onto his knees and searched my face. “Are you sure?”

  No. I didn’t want to do this alone, but if I wanted to find Katie, he needed to recharge. “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll see you tonight then.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

  I gripped his shirt, holding him in place. Panic clawed through me, an irrational fear that if he left, I wouldn’t see him again. “Sandman?”

  “Yes?” he asked, his mouth hovering above my skin.

  “If you’re always mine, then I’m always yours,” I said. Because that was the truth, no matter what happened.

  His arms wrapped around me, pressing me against him. My fear withdrew until only a single tendril of it remained. “This will all be over soon,” he whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  “I hate to leave you here like this.”

  “We got in. How hard could getting out be?” I pulled away and shrugged. I couldn’t finish the other empty houses without him, but that didn’t mean I couldn
’t look somewhere else.

  He glanced around the attic space. “Be careful in the dark.”

  “Where were you?” my mother asked the second I walked through the door. “You couldn’t have been hanging up fliers this whole time.”

  I wrapped my arms around my mother’s waist and hugged her. She stiffened for a moment, probably unsure if it was a tactic to get out of trouble, before hugging me back. I hated that pause. Hated that she didn’t show me the same affection other mothers show their children. That she showed Katie. She was afraid of me; she hadn’t stopped being afraid since the day I insisted the Sandman was real. I don’t think she ever really believed that I stopped seeing him, but she wanted to. Every time I zoned out or chose sleep over an invitation from a friend, it reminded her of that year she spent dragging me to doctor after doctor. She loved me—I knew she did—but she didn’t know how to show it anymore.

  “I was driving around to see if I could find Katie,” I answered. As fruitless as it was. I hadn’t really expected to see her waltzing down a back road anyway, but after looking in all windows in the cul-de-sac homes, I didn’t know where else to go.

  She tapped my shoulders, and I let go. “Natalie’s father called today to let us know that the funeral is going to be this Saturday,” she said, ushering me into the kitchen.

  Funeral. A hollow pit opened in my stomach. “Okay.”

  “I made spaghetti.”

  I nodded. I could force a few bites down to appease her, but not much more than that. “I’ll go change. Be right back.”

  I ran to my room and shut the door. For a minute, I simply leaned against it with my eyes closed, forcing back the desperate sorrow clawing its way through me. Funeral. Because Natalie was gone. Forever. Just like Emery. A thousand memories stacked on top of each other. Building and building and building. I shoved away from the door, knocking over the tower of images, and peeled off my sweaty clothes. I barely had my running shorts and tank top on when warm air curled around my ankles.

  “Sun-Kissed Keeper,” crooned the Weaver. “Keep digging deeper.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said through clenched teeth. I didn’t turn around to face him—I couldn’t.

  “Has the Sandman told you that the stronger your mind is, the stronger your nightmare is?” The warm air wrapped its way up my leg. “How strong do you think yours is?”

  “Strong enough.” I yanked my hair up into a ponytail. When I turned, the Weaver’s gold eyes watched me carefully from the open closet. “Get out of my room.”

  “How strong do you think your sister’s mind is?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “Some things a person can’t come back from. Do you think you’ll find her before my nightmares break her?”

  “I think I’ll break you,” I growled.

  He gave me a mock bow, lifting his upturned palm. “I welcome you to the Nightmare Realm, Dream Keeper. Please, do take me up on the invitation.”

  Break her. Katie was running out of time. I slammed the closet door in his face and bolted back to the kitchen before I could suggest an exchange.

  Spaghetti churning in my stomach, I flopped down on my bed, sleep already dragging me under. I took a deep breath and rolled onto my side. The air conditioning blew directly on my legs. My skin prickled against it, but the idea of moving enough to crawl between the sheets seemed too daunting.

  I felt myself slipping. Falling. Drifting. The dream was close, beckoning me forward, but something yanked me back. A sharp, terrifying sensation gripped my core, and my eyes flew open.

  My mother stood in the hallway. The wall sconce glowed behind her, casting her face in shadow, but I knew she was looking at me. It wasn’t an awestruck look a mother sometimes gives her child while they’re asleep, nor was it one of concern. It radiated hate. A scathing anger that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

  I hesitated. “Mom?”

  She lunged into my room, her hands outstretched, and grabbed the pillow from beneath my head. There wasn’t time to get out of the way before she slammed it over my face. I thrashed beneath her, clawing at her arms. I tried to scream but the pillow blocked my breath.

  Then, as fast as my mother had flown into the room, she was back in the hall. I gasped for air and scrambled from the bed. My mother grinned. My heart stopped, my palms sweating. She threw the pillow at me and disappeared into her bedroom across the hall, slamming the door behind her.

  The Weaver’s laugh traveled from somewhere down the hall. I held my breath and charged around my bed to shut the door, blocking out the sound. The lock beside the doorknob clicked beneath my thumb, but I wasn’t taking any chances. One bobby pin and it would pop open. So, propping myself between the wall and my dresser, I slid the heavy antique in front of the door.

  I flung myself into bed a second time, adrenaline pumping, and watched the knob until I had calmed enough to fall asleep.

  14

  The Sandman

  “My mother tried to smother me.”

  My eyes snapped away from the barrier overhead to find Nora stomping across the beach. “What?”

  “Technically it was the Weaver,” she clarified, her breath uneven. “Don’t worry. I barricaded myself in my room.”

  I ground my teeth together. It was only a matter of time before he sent a sleepwalker after her, but he couldn’t kill Nora. He needed her alive. It was a warning and a good one at that. Using her mother too…

  “Have you found anything?”

  “Not yet.” I motioned her forward, not taking my eyes off the sky. A crack scarred the barrier. A mere hairline fracture, no longer than my little finger, smaller still from down here. It hadn’t been there when I left to help Nora find her sister. “Do you see it?”

  She squinted. “See what?”

  “There.” I moved behind her and held my arm out so that she could follow where I pointed. “A crack.”

  “I just see the sky,” she said, shrugging.

  I stepped around her. Maybe it was too far up, too small, for her to notice, but it wasn’t too small for nightmares to sneak in. Some were tiny, slippery things. I did a sweep after I returned but came up empty-handed. With a quick flick of my wrist, I sent sand racing through the air to patch it.

  “It isn’t safe here tonight,” I said.

  She jerked, her eyes scanning for the imperfection again. “I thought those things from the other night couldn’t get in.”

  “Those things couldn’t. The barrier was solid then.” I scooped sand into a pouch and handed it to her to replace what we used in the attic. She tossed the string over her neck.

  Her sister disappeared three nights ago. Which meant for three nights and two days, she’d suffered torture at the hands of who knew what. If we didn’t find her soon, there might not be anything left to save. My first concern had to be Nora though. If she wasn’t safe, no one was. I took her face in my hands, my thumbs skimming the freckles along her cheekbone.

  “How cozy,” came a familiar voice. I spun, shoving Nora behind me, to find the Weaver walking from the sea. Water rolled off him as if he were made of wax. He glanced up at where the crack had been. “And how... lazy.”

  “You can’t be here,” I growled, tightening my grip on Nora.

  He clucked his tongue. “It took me so long to find a way in.” The Weaver circled us, and his heavy metallic scent turned my stomach. “Besides, let’s not forget that you waltzed into my realm uninvited first—the least you could do is ask me to stay for tea.”

  I held my hands out, palms parallel to the ground, and sand shot up to greet them. “Nora, go.”

  “No,” she hissed. “You can’t keep telling me to leave every time he shows up. I have to face him sooner or later.”

  The Weaver grinned at her words. “She must.”

  “Shut up.” Nora sidestepped me, her face red with fury. “Don’t ever touch my mother again, and I want my sister back.”

  A black blur zoomed out from behind the Weaver. Something small and rod
ent-like, heading straight for her legs. I slammed my fingers into a fist, and the sand followed my movement. I flung my arm toward the nightmare, fingers splayed. A spray of tiny needles met the creature’s side. It fell to the sand, black blood pooling beneath its bristly fur. Sharp tusks stuck straight out from its mouth, ready to impale. Yellow liquid oozed from tiny, bulging venom sacks beneath each one.

  “Leave,” I said again, both to the Weaver and Nora.

  “What is that thing?” Nora breathed.

  The Weaver frowned. “That was—”

  “It doesn’t matter what it was,” I hissed, meeting the Weaver’s glare. “Only what it could have done. The same goes for all his nightmares.”

  He shrugged, nonchalant. “You can’t blame me for trying.”

  More sand rose around me, and the ground shifted beneath my boots. I blamed him, yes. For letting nightmares into the Day World. For forcing me to bind him. But, if he was anything, it was consistent. The Weaver relied too much on his minions and not enough on himself.

  “Are you going to oust me? With all that overflowing magic?” He grinned. “Or are you going to sick Baku on me? He’s causing quite the stir these days. I fear he will become rather obese after turning my realm into an all you can eat buffet.”

  “She’s not giving you the dream,” I said, rage coating each syllable.

  “I rather think that’s not up to you. A tough pill to swallow, I’m sure, after so many years of prancing around like someone dubbed you the Night Emperor.” The Weaver leaned sideways to better peer at Nora. “Say yes, little Sun-Kissed Keeper. Give me access.”

  “Give me my sister,” she countered with such calm fury that I shivered.

  “Nora, go,” I begged. “Please.”

  “I won’t leave you alone with him, and I won’t leave without Katie,” she said, standing her ground.

  The Weaver extracted a string from the band around his wrist. Gold filaments glinted against the black thread. With a flick, it stiffened. “Last chance, Keeper.”

  “Don’t you dare release another one of your filthy creatures in here,” I snarled.