Dream Keeper

by Amber R. Duell

  I stared at the doors again, weighing his words. It could be a lie. One of them could be the way out, and he was just trying to scare me into walking away, but somehow, I didn’t think he would need to trick me. Judging by the size of his arms, he could toss me over his shoulder and carry me to Rowan without breaking a sweat. He needs me alive. I didn’t doubt there were worse things here than the wall decor so if I wanted to stay in one piece, I had little choice but to go with him. At least for now.

  “Asshole.”

  “Oh stop. You’re going to hurt my feelings,” he said, raising the pitch of his voice.

  “I’ll hurt something, but it won’t be your feelings,” I muttered.

  He stopped and turned back to glare at me. “Are you coming?”

  I slowly placed a foot on the bottom step without looking away from his flashing iris and gave him the finger. He huffed but said nothing.

  We didn’t speak as we passed through hallway after hallway. Each was identical, but I still got the feeling he was walking me in circles. If he was trying to make me lose my bearings, he succeeded. I wasn’t even sure what floor we were on anymore, let alone which passageway. Not that it mattered—the Blood Army was still outside.

  Think, Nora. Think.

  Kail stopped so fast I rammed into him, his back solid as concrete. I rubbed my nose expecting to find blood, but the back of my hand came away clean.

  “Inside.” He pressed open a narrow panel in the wall.

  I peered around him to find the warm glow of a regular fire lighting a richly decorated den. A brown leather sofa sat across from two matching chairs, a thick red throw rug beneath all three. The mantel above the fire shelved a massive clock. The hands shifted backward and forward, not pointing to numbers but strange symbols. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  He grunted and gripped my arm, shoving me into the room. Rowan stood in the corner, thumbing through a book. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Super.”

  “Drink that.” She motioned to a clay cup with steaming liquid. “I need to speak to you with a clear mind.”

  I folded my arms. “Trust me, it’s clear.”

  She set the book down and crossed the room with rustling skirts, her strange wings scraping the ceiling. She lifted the cup and held it out. “I don’t need to poison you, Dream Keeper. If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

  I pursed my lips. The pain in my head wasn’t that bad. It had already receded to a dull, aching pressure—nothing a couple Tylenol couldn’t cure. Or maybe something a little stronger than Tylenol. A lot stronger.

  Still, there was no way I was drinking anything they offered me. Maybe it wasn’t poisonous, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have other side effects. Like sprouting gills or stealing my willpower. Plus, it was probably made from the liver of some sort of creepy crawly creature.

  “Pass,” I insisted in a flat voice.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly before she set the cup back down and smoothed her features. “Sit. Please. We mean you no harm.”

  My eyebrows shot up but before I could contradict her, Kail snapped, “You stabbed me in the eye! You deserved what happened outside. And you leapt into the mist yourself so don’t try pinning that on us.”

  “I thought I didn’t need to fear you or the Blood Army,” I accused Rowan. “You said I didn’t fear being touched or blood, so I didn’t need to be afraid.”

  “Without your fear, we have no desire to harm you, and we certainly get nothing from it, but that doesn’t mean we can’t.” She pointed to the sofa again. “Sit.”

  I adjusted the sheet around my shoulders. “No.”

  “We just want to talk.”

  Kail barked a laugh from the doorway. “We can’t trust her, Ro. Forget it.”

  “You can’t trust me?” I shouted. “Are you joking? Everyone here wants to crack my head open like a walnut to find the dream the Sandman hid there. Then whatever’s left of me will be tossed away or fed to something with a lot of pointy teeth.”

  Rowan hovered beside me, and I held my breath against the scent of black licorice wafting from her body. “We saved you from the Barren and brought you safely here. You tried to run twice now.” She glared at the fabric tied at my neck with unspoken accusations of a third attempt. “And you stabbed my friend with your tiny knife. I rather think we’re being quite accommodating.”

  Kail poked the area between my shoulder blades, and I stumbled to the center of the room. Fine. I would sit, I would listen to them, but my eyes scanned the room for potential weapons. Anything I could use to free myself before the Weaver arrived. If I was going to escape him, I needed the element of surprise. Given Rowan’s ability, the Weaver would probably walk in and expect to see me sitting, resigned to my fate, on their couch. I had to be part of the shadow. To use his world against him.

  Rowan perched on the edge of a chair across from me. “We want to work with you.”

  “What?” Books lined shelves, but nothing sharp. Nothing I could wield in a fight. “Me?”

  “The Weaver...” Rowan glanced at Kail. “He forces us to do things.”

  “To kill people,” Kail clarified.

  “Most of us don’t want to. Killing is unnecessary; it culls our source of energy and serves no purpose other than to be cruel.” She ran her hands down the hair that cascaded over her shoulders. “We are not all evil.”

  I very much doubted that, but Rowan had my attention. “Did you kill my friends? Any of the people I knew?”

  They exchanged a glance before shaking their heads.

  My eyes narrowed. “But you know who did?”

  “The Weaver killed them himself, except your two friends. He was busy with the Sandman at the time, so he delegated.”

  “I want names.” As soon as the Weaver was dealt with, they would be next. It wouldn’t be painless either. They would feel each twinge of pain I locked away. Each unshed tear.

  “We want to make a deal with you.” Rowan shifted, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “We all want the same thing.”

  “We is an overstatement,” Kail grumbled.

  My nostrils flared. Focus. “How would you know what I want?”

  “You want the Weaver gone.” Kail flung himself in the empty chair and rapped his fingers on the arm. “If he’s dead, your friends and family will be safe. Your world. There would be no more waiting around for bindings to wear down and barriers to break. For the rest of your life, you could live free of this place.”

  I looked between them. Kail with the lower half of his face set, his shoulders squared and tight. Rowan, sitting as if she came straight from a finishing school two hundred years ago, her face blank. Waiting. Patient. What did they want me to say? It wasn’t exactly a secret I wanted the Weaver dead or that I would try my hardest to make that happen, but if I was being honest with myself, I knew it was impossible. It was the idea that kept me going. Pushed me forward. Not the hope of it coming true.

  “And?” I asked suspiciously.

  “And.” Rowan paused. “The Weaver would expect an assassination attempt from us. His defenses would be up and when we failed, he would kill us. But you? He wouldn’t think twice about turning his back on you.”

  I blinked. Once. Twice. They were serious. A harsh laugh flew from my throat. “Me? You’re asking me to kill him when you’re the ones with the power here? This is a joke, right?”

  Silence. Thick, suffocating silence.

  Finally, Kail said, “I told you this wouldn’t work. Now what? We can’t kill her, but if he digs through her head, he’ll find out we tried to betray him.”

  “She hasn’t said no.” Rowan wiped her hands on her skirt. “If she does this, so many people would be spared. We would be.”

  I gaped at them while they discussed me like I wasn’t right in front of them. “Why would I want to spare either of you?”

  “Because.” Kail stood and strode to the mantle over the fireplace. He pressed a brick. A hole opened in the wall, and he
removed a blade. It was no bigger than a hunting knife with glowing red liquid embedded in a long crystal that ran down the center. The metal handle was woven from black and gold, blue and silver, a patchwork of dreams and nightmares. The power sucked the air from the room. “We have this, and you do not. Without it, you may be able to bind him again, but we would be back in this position a few years from now.”

  Rowan nodded, smiling. “In exchange, we will take care of the nightmares that killed your friends.”

  I could do it; I could kill the Weaver. Avenge the people that died. Live without fear of more death. I could stop watching the shadows. The Sandman didn’t think we should because of the balance, but with this, I could do it alone. But did I trust them? Enough to betray someone I did trust? Cold sweat trickled down my spine.

  “I can’t do anything without the Sandman,” I said. And he might be dead. I balled my hands into fists.

  Rowan quirked an eyebrow. “Then what did you come here for?”

  Nerves prickled beneath my skin. She was right. Why did I come if it wasn’t to do something about the Weaver? After I found the Sandman, what did I think we would do together? It wasn’t enough to find him alive and prove the Weaver a liar. To stop this, I was going to have to help the Sandman put an end to the threat. But what if the Weaver hadn’t been lying? I couldn’t walk away from this chance.

  “She thinks her boyfriend is dead,” Kail said with a smirk.

  The room spun. “He’s not?” My extremities went numb, my vision blurring behind a lens of unshed tears.

  “The Sandman is not dead,” Rowan said slowly, her head cocked. “He left the cave for the Dream World. I don’t know precisely where he is now, but it would be easy enough to track him down.”

  The lightness in my chest made me feel as if I were floating away, out of this horrible place toward something better. I gripped the couch cushion so hard my knuckles turned white. I wasn’t floating anywhere. I was trapped here until they decided to let me go. Or not let me go, depending on how this conversation went.

  Kail snorted and flipped my knife into the air, catching it.

  I ground my teeth together. If he wanted my help, he had a strange way of showing it. Were the offer not so tempting, I would pry that ridiculous mask off his face and beat him over the head with it. But it was tempting. And they could get me back to the Sandman—something I was apparently unable to do for myself.

  “What do you want me to do, exactly?” I asked.

  Rowan’s red-stained lips turned up. “With the Sandman at your side, it won’t be impossible for you to reach the Weaver’s Keep. Get the Weaver alone—that shouldn’t be overly difficult either considering it’s exactly what he wants—and use the blade. It contains both Dream and Nightmare magic, so it can kill both lords.”

  I glared at the blade. It could kill the Sandman, yet they hadn’t used it. Why? Surely, they hated him as much as their lord did. Had they tried and failed? If so, I imagine they would be dead, or at the very least the Weaver would have heard of the attempt and confiscated the blade. Or killed them. Maybe both. If he would expect Rowan and Kail to try killing him, he had to know they would use such a weapon against him eventually.

  But the answers scared me more than those questions did. This was my chance to take the Weaver down. Probably my only one since the Sandman was so adamant about rebinding him. I needed to believe they never tried using this against the Sandman if I was going to accept their help.

  “The Sandman can’t know about this plan,” Rowan added.

  “Why not?” I asked. I knew my own answer but if they didn’t want the Sandman to know, there was a good chance I shouldn’t be doing it. There was so much I didn’t know about this place, about the creatures here... I could be walking into something I couldn’t walk out of.

  “He believes everything needs a counter,” Kail explained. “That his mirror image must exist for things to work, but we are capable of ruling ourselves.”

  So, for the same reason I wouldn’t tell him. I rapped my fingers on my thigh. “This plan doesn’t seem like much of a plan.”

  “You’ll figure it out if you want your revenge.” Kail’s voice was cool. Flippant.

  I would do anything to spare my remaining loved ones the same fate as the others but lying to the Sandman didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure I could lead him into the heart of the Nightmare Realm and go behind his back. He risked everything to help me bring Katie back. He would risk everything again to protect me and the Day World.

  But, if the Weaver was gone... Really and truly gone...

  “Is there even time for me to get to the Weaver before he’s finished weaving?” I asked. All sense of time was lost to me, but it felt like an eternity since I crawled into my bed.

  Rowan’s wings scraped loudly against the back of the chair. “He’s strong enough to fight, but he’s still working. If he’s going to face the Sandman and win, he’ll want an overflow.”

  I nodded. He was still occupied then. “You’ll take me to the Sandman?”

  Kail laughed and Rowan leveled a look in his direction. “We cannot be seen helping you, of course. But we’ll provide a guide tasked with taking you to the Weaver. He won’t know that isn’t your true destination. You’ll know when it’s time to part ways; listen to the Sandman’s magic inside you. It will lead you in the right direction, and then an ally will locate you.”

  Listen to the magic? I didn’t even know how to begin to find it. I narrowed my eyes. “That’s ridiculously non-informative. How am I supposed to get away from this guide?”

  “I’ll return your knife before you go,” Kail said, tossing a hand in my direction.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “Will you do this?” Rowan asked quickly. “Will you kill him?”

  “I...” Would I? I couldn’t promise anything, but I could try. I wanted the Weaver dead. Deciding what to tell the Sandman could happen later, after I saw he was okay with my own eyes. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Give me that thing.”

  Rowan smiled. “Excellent.”

  Kail turned back to the strange clock and collected a sheath. “Don’t take the blade out until it’s time to use it, or the Weaver will know you have it.”

  “You’ll need better clothes before you go too,” Rowan said.

  Kail dropped the light knife on my lap and strode from the room without another word.

  “Ignore him,” Rowan whispered. “He thinks this is too dangerous.”

  “He’s not the only one,” I grumbled. But it didn’t matter. Battles weren’t won by cowards.

  25

  The Sandman

  My footsteps echoed through the narrow canyon. Dull yellow stone rose a hundred stories on both sides, the sky nothing more than a shard of grey, yet its light reached all the way to the bits of crumbling boulders littering the path. I surveyed the walls from beneath my hood and ground my teeth. Seventy-one nightmares dead, nearly half my power depleted, and still no sign of Nora.

  Rocks tumbled down the canyon walls, kicking up a cloud of dust. My heart lurched, and I fisted sand from my satchel. “I know you’re there,” I called, and broke into a jog. “Show yourself.”

  Heavy silence rang while the debris settled. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I screeched to a halt. Cracks rent the air. The ground lurched, nearly knocking me to my feet, and the mountainside trembled. Pebbles rained down, and I flung myself behind a boulder. They pelted me one after another like nails on wood, puncturing and gouging through my clothes. I tugged my hood down to protect my face, dropping the sand. A dust storm devoured me. Blinded me. I held my breath and waited with strained ears.

  Forever passed before the canyon finally cleared again. I wiped away the blood beading on my hands and cracked my neck. A grinding swelled in the canyon, plucking at my nerves. The sand I held when I took shelter was now scattered at my feet under a laye
r of powder. I leaned forward to rest on my knees and grabbed another handful from my sack. Whatever nightmare was on the other side of the boulder had one chance to tell me where Nora was. One. Just like the others.

  But when I stood, my blood froze. A twenty-foot man made of solid yellow rock glared down at me with molten eyes. He staggered toward me and more gravel flew from his joints. I planted my feet. The sand hummed in my hand, and I squeezed it tight. When I opened my fingers, it spilled to the ground, forming a wooden crate with a black fuse poking through the wooden slats.

  “Where is the Dream Keeper?” I bellowed.

  He bent, ready to tackle, and took a deep, gasping breath. The crevices in his abdomen glowed, steam leaking out from between his lips. It didn’t matter what came next. I wouldn’t ask him again.

  I flicked a pinch of sand at the crate and snapped my fingers. Sparks flew from the fuse. I planted my feet, locked my knees, and lowered my head. The creature gurgled and took another step forward. Good. The closer the better.

  The fuse disappeared. Sand burst from my satchel and wrapped itself tightly around my body in protection. A moment of calm vengeance filled my heart.

  Then the canyon ignited into fiery chaos.

  Seventy-two nightmares dead.

  26

  Nora

  Rowan led me back through the tarantula lined walls. Now that I met her approval, dressed in a form-fitting black T-shirt with a leather vest, tight cotton pants, and boots that came halfway to my knee, it was time to leave. The blade rested against my spine, the handle an inch from the bottom hem of the vest. When the time came, I would simply need to flick a clasp and unsheathe the weapon.

  Already I was questioning my decision to go along with this disaster of a plan. The idea of killing the Weaver was appealing but to risk my life to do it? Hadn’t I given enough?