Dream Keeper

by Amber R. Duell

  “No,” the Sandman shouted. I snapped my head up to find Baku crouching low, a hungry gleam in his eyes. “No.” His voice was softer this time, his hands held out in my defense.

  Baku flicked a look between us but didn’t straighten from his position.

  A cold sweat broke out on my skin. “Sandman?”

  “No. She’s not... She... You can’t.” His shoulders slumped, and he stepped between us. “Give us a few minutes, Baku.”

  I didn’t see Baku get up or walk away, but I sensed his distance growing on the other side of the Sandman. It was a small weight lifted from inside. A sprinkle of calm amid the chaos. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted through building tears. I wanted to reach out to him but found I didn’t have the courage to try. “I didn’t know. I thought...” I thought I would fix everything. I held my arms out in front of me, stained and foreign. They prickled with a power I couldn’t explain, the threads holding me in a vice grip. “What’s happening to me?”

  The Sandman shook his head once. Dirt and debris were caked in his hair. A smudge of something else marked his face. His chest was covered in mud and tacky blood, his legs drenched. The fabric of his pants clung to his thigh where a large gash continued to bleed, but most of it came from somewhere else. I looked past my arms to the blood splattered over my entire body, and my heart shuttered.

  My eyes sought his, desperate for answers, but even with all the signs of a vicious fight, they were the worst to look at. Stars danced a duet across the vibrant violet—love and hate, relief and fear.

  Despair shook through me like an earthquake. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, it was as bad as it seemed. Worse. “Stop looking at me like that,” I said, sounding as broken and desperate as I felt. “Tell me what this is before I find a saw and start—”

  “The balance.” His eyes fell to my arms, and he reached out to stroke his fingertips over my tense wrists. “I wasn’t sure what killing him would do exactly, or I would have warned you.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Or, maybe I wouldn’t have because I didn’t know you were planning this. And the knife? You had it on you when you came back? No.” He winced. “Don’t answer that. I know you did.”

  “It wasn’t like that.” I inched closer, still not daring to reach out. But it was like that. It was a conscious decision to lie and betray. “I wanted the Weaver dead, Sandman. I needed him dead and for this to be over. I knew you would’ve stopped me if I told you. I second guessed myself until the end, but he wasn’t going to let me go.”

  “I know he wasn’t,” he mumbled, his head hanging. “I know, I know. But, Nora... I told you the universe kept the balance. You could’ve...”

  I stared at him. The words were all over his face, his body, aching to be free yet too afraid to surface. “Just say it.”

  He shook his head, his eyes pressed shut. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

  “But what’s happening to me?”

  “Apparently to kill the Weaver is to become the Weaver,” he said, his voice dead. He met my gaze, his pupils wide. “To become the Weaver is to become a target.”

  I shook my head. He couldn’t mean that. This was a trick, a nightmare. This wasn’t the beach, but another mind game the Weaver’s world was playing on me. I couldn’t be the Weaver. The Weaver was the Weaver, dead or alive.

  “What are you saying? That I’m a nightmare now?” I sucked in the lilac-scented air and almost gagged. Sweet. Too sweet. “Why would I be a target?”

  “You’re the Lady of Nightmares. Not quite a nightmare, but not quite human either. Someone has to rule over them, keep them in line, create them.”

  “No. Rowan said they could—”

  “Rowan used you. She was no match for the Weaver, but you? If killing the Weaver makes you the next ruler of the Nightmare Realm, you were never meant to last long.”

  “No...” But it rang true. Once I killed the Weaver, she planned to kill me. I leapt to my feet, scrubbing at the stain on my arms again. “No. There has to be something we can do. Can’t I just pass the torch or something? If Rowan wants this, she can have it.”

  The Sandman shook his head. “If there is a way, I know nothing of it.”

  The beach spun, and I latched onto his arm. My lungs cried for air but no matter how much I drew, no matter how quickly I drew it, there wasn’t enough. My pulse hammered through me. Weaver. I blinked through wet eyes. “There has to be something.”

  Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning followed on its heels, outlining a thousand different shapes, all coming straight toward us. A splash of orange, a towering set of horns, a slithering figure in the sky. The low moan of the Blood Army.

  The Sandman reached into the satchel still hanging at his hip. “You have to leave.”

  “You can’t face that many alone,” I cried. The volume of their march alone was unlike anything I’d ever heard. The ground trembled with it.

  The Sandman scooped up enough sand to make a pair of scissors and snipped the thread from my wrist, then again at the sleeve of my shirt. I felt naked, weak, wrong without it. I wanted to snatch the long tangle from his hands. Protect it. Keep it. But the deep need for it scared me more than the Sandman destroying it did. I curled my hands into fists. “If I really am the new Weaver, I’m going to stay and fight.”

  “You have no idea how to use the magic coursing through your veins,” he said, not unkindly. “Besides, they’re coming because I kidnapped their new leader. If you’re not here, they’ll look for you somewhere else.”

  The black and gold thread writhed in his arms, reaching for me, but I stepped back. “You didn’t kidnap me.”

  “Technically, I did,” he said. “And whatever their feelings are about this power shift, they won’t stand for it. What they will do after they have you back… is anyone’s guess.”

  “But...” I blinked at the mass of creatures coming toward the Dream Realm and something swelled in my breast. A sickening hope. A brimming hate. I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from speaking about things I didn’t understand.

  “I’m going to put the entire Nightmare Realm on lockdown until you’ve gained enough strength to face them. The nightmares already can’t get out, but I’ll make it so that no one can get in. Who knows what they’ll do to a Dreamer without someone to enforce the rules, as few as they are. If you’re here, you’ll be bound too. And...” He slammed his mouth shut and swallowed hard. “And, that means you need to wake up.”

  I tore my eyes away from the darkening sky. “You can do that? Stop everyone from having a nightmare?”

  “It will take everything I have, but without the Weaver fighting me, it’s possible.” He stepped closer and lifted my chin. His lips pressed against mine, hard and unapologetic. “Everything will be fine, okay? I’ll see you later. I promise.”

  Baku appeared at his side again, shifting between his paws, and the hoard slowed. Slowed but didn’t stop. Even if I wasn’t here, if they believed he had taken me, they would want their pound of flesh. Both their anger and anticipation tingled along my nerves.

  “Distract them,” he said to Baku.

  Baku snorted his agreement, if only out of excitement for having caged prey, and an irrational spike of anger hit me. I focused on the Sandman’s hands, and he called sand up to encase the long, thrashing strand of thread. Invading it. Stealing its allegiance. I balled my hands into fists. The nightmares were close enough to the thinning barrier now that flashes of muted color broke through the darkness. A wicked gleam filled the chimera’s eyes.

  “Wake up, Nora,” the Sandman warned.

  I crossed my arms, saw the darkness there, and slipped them behind my back instead. “Baku gets a choice.”

  “Baku knows what he’s doing.” The Sandman whipped the coil of thread out and it fell to the ground, limp.

  I could help him. I could fight or order the nightmares back to where they belonged. They should have to listen to me now. It was worth a shot anyway. The Dream Realm didn’t have to be
the only safe place for a Dreamer. Not anymore. Together, the Sandman and I could destroy everything on the other side of the beach’s barrier. I saw the walls clearly now—a dome of shimmering magic—and felt the strain of its fading power.

  “I love you,” he said in a final tone.

  “Wait—”

  Before I could finish my plea, he shoved me awake.

  Waking up felt like having my soul ripped away, torn to shreds, and stuffed back into a body that no longer fit. I flew up in bed, crisp white sheets pooling in my lap. A scream lodged in my throat, and I fought to breathe. Monitors beeped furiously all around me. Wires streamed out from the neck of a white and blue hospital gown, and a needle was stuck in my arm, delivering IV fluids. I reached up to tear the wires from my chest and froze. My hands and arms were still as black as night, my veins glowing gold beneath. The place where the thread had circled my wrist was raw and aching.

  A nurse in colorful scrubs flew into the room with my mother two steps behind. Katie rushed in beside her dressed in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, not the hospital clothes I last saw her in. Her hair was dyed dark brown, her face free of makeup.

  My heart dropped. What was I doing here? It couldn’t be later than mid-day. The pills I took shouldn’t have been enough to warrant a trip to the emergency room. My mother broke down just inside the door, clinging to Katie, whispering thank you, thank you, thank you.

  “What am I doing here?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

  The nurse stuck her head out the door, calling for someone to page the doctor, and rushed over to check the monitors. “How do you feel?”

  Like I got hit by a truck. “Someone better tell me what’s going on,” I said, harsher than intended.

  “You’ve been unconscious for two days.” The nurse spoke calmly as she checked the IV bag. “We almost lost you twice.”

  “Almost lost me?” I looked to my mother with her wrinkled sweats and greasy hair, the old mascara trails running down her cheeks. When? My eyes lost focus, my thoughts turning inward. What were the things that almost killed me? Becoming the Weaver, probably, but what else? “I...”

  Katie slipped past the nurse and placed her hand in mine. “We thought it might have been a reaction to the pills you took, but they pumped your stomach and everything.” Her eyes bored into mine. She knew. “The doctor said your heart gave out a couple times this afternoon but righted itself somehow.”

  “It’s all over now.” I squeezed my sister’s hand. It was only partially a lie. The Weaver was gone, our torment over, but there was so much more to think about. How long could I stay with my family? The Sandman never lasted long in the Day World, and he was stronger than I was, but I forced a weak smile for their sake. “I’m awake now. Everything can go back to normal.”

  “Normal?” my mother asked. “We’re moving, and you’re never leaving the house again. Either of you.”

  “Mom,” Katie groaned.

  She glared, her face tight. “You think I’m kidding?”

  I blinked, forcing my smile to stay put. Even if it wouldn’t be for long, I wanted to stay in our house, surrounded by a lifetime of memories. When I left them for the Nightmare Realm, my mother would be glad for them. I gripped the railing of the bed. Or maybe she was right—maybe moving was better. She deserved a fresh start away from the things that would remind her of her delusional, runaway daughter.

  Already I felt the strain of this place. It clawed at me like a drowning man would claw at the surface of a lake. The bright fluorescent lights stung my exposed skin, and my pupils constricted against the faint sunlight filtering through the tinted window.

  But no one noticed my arms. They couldn’t see the power raging beneath my skin or comprehend my ability to bring a nightmare crashing into their slumber. It was my new secret, the hidden truth that mortals couldn’t see, just as no one had noticed the Sandman’s tattoos or his starlit eyes. Even then, before I knew the Sandman was real or who Ben really was, I wasn’t completely human. I carried a piece of the Sandman inside me.

  I still did.

  Now I belonged to something darker though. It lurked beneath my skin, grinning as it spread. The idea should have terrified me. By my own hand, I created a different identity for myself. Something new. Something legends never spoke of. A Weaver. The Weaver. Ruler of all things that go bump in the night.

  Yes, I should have been terrified, and a large part of me was.

  But another part of me grinned back, and that terrified me more than anything else.

  I flopped back on the flat pillow and slammed my eyes shut, ignoring the sudden rush of medical staff that flooded into the room. While they thought I slept for two days, I was awake.

  Running.

  Fighting.

  Plotting.

  Killing.

  And I was exhausted.

  Please come, I plead silently to the Sandman. Please help me. I need you.

  31

  The Sandman

  I ripped myself out of the crazed darkness, back to the Dream Realm. The force of my back hitting the ground knocked my teeth together. The sand reached up to cradle me, a few grains sneaking beneath my clothes. The binding was done. I had no way of knowing how long it would last, but it bought me some time. Enough to recharge and prepare. This wouldn’t be like last time. I would check the binding every day and tighten it down.

  Baku glared at me, shaking his head. Blood stained the fur around his mouth and paws.

  “I know, Baku.” I sighed. “I’ll train her. She’ll learn and take up her rightful place. A year—”

  He huffed.

  “Six months,” I conceded. The nightmares needed someone to lead them before they tore each other apart. “Six months, and she’ll be ready.”

  He gave a laugh-like grumble and walked away, disappearing through the barrier.

  Nora wouldn’t be ready in six months, nor would she be in a year. Or two, or three. Being trapped would only fuel the nightmares volatile behavior. The mindless ones wouldn’t be much of a problem if she proved she wouldn’t put up with their behavior, but the others... They would undoubtedly line up for an opportunity to crush her, either for her power or because they were angry she abandoned them. I had the knife now, but they wouldn’t need a special weapon to kill the Weaver like everyone else did. They were her and she was them. It would be nothing more than severing a limb to them now that they knew without a doubt what a Weaver’s death meant.

  I shifted into a sitting position, setting my elbows on my knees, and my chin hit my chest. There was nothing I could do to protect her there. Not anymore. So, I closed my eyes and called on the sand that Nora’s presence tainted, working it through my fingers while trying not to crumble.

  It took nearly four hours to regain enough strength to Day Walk and another to track down Nora’s location. Our cord was severed now, dead and dull, but I was connected to her in another way. As my opposite, I could feel her proximity, her feelings. The fear and confusion laced with a near giddiness, which brought on a stronger wave of fear.

  I almost didn’t recognize Katie staring at the wall in the waiting room of the hospital. Her hair was dark now, and the brightness gone from her expression. She clasped the leather bag I gave Nora in one hand. The other toyed with the strings, the knotted ends fraying under the constant touch. I tucked my hands in my back pockets. Did she believe now? It would be easier for Nora if she had someone on this side to confide in now that I... Now that she couldn’t come to the beach without infecting it.

  “Where’s Nora?” I asked, cringing at the clear misery in my voice.

  Katie looked me up and down slowly, recognition filtering in through her pain. “Ben, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll show you.” Katie stood, her movements stiff and slow, and motioned me to follow her down the hall. “She’s awake now.”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak so I nodded again.

  “Fair warning. She’s a little off right now,” she a
dded. Her fingers curled around the bag, squeezing. “The doctors keep ordering more tests and someone is constantly in and out to poke at her, so I think she’s just tired but...” She shrugged.

  “Is she alone now?”

  “Our mom and Paul are in the cafeteria, and Nora threw the last nurse out before she got halfway to the bed.” She stopped outside of an open door. “This is her.”

  “Thanks.” I gave her a wisp of a smile. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Good luck.”

  I waited for her to walk back down the hall and turn into the small seating area before slipping inside. A blue curtain was drawn across the room, but I shut the door anyway. I wiped sweaty hands on my pants and stepped around the cloth. Nora stood in front of a monitor with colored lines, pressing button after button with her charcoal fingers. A thin line of blood ran from the crease of her elbow where she must have ripped a needle out.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  She jumped and slammed a hand to her chest. “Sandman.” Her shoulders squared. “I thought you were one of them.”

  “One of who?”

  “The hospital staff. Or maybe Detective Bell. I overheard him talking to my mother in the hall about wanting to personally apologize, but I pretended to be asleep.” She bit her lip, turning back to the screen. “Help me shut this thing off so I can sneak out of here.”

  My mouth ran dry. I moved slowly to her side and guided her hand away from the machine. She jerked against the touch, then squeezed my fingers, clinging to me while she trembled. “The Nightmare Realm is bound,” I said. “It should last for a few months, at least, but I’ll keep reinforcing it to give you more time.”

  “More time,” she echoed and started jabbing the buttons with her other hand.

  I watched her, unsure what to say or do. “You should make the most of it with your family. They need you.”

  “Well, I need you,” she shouted.