The Dream Awakened

by Leann M Rettell

  Malcolm listened to the one-sided conversation as Robinson turned away in his swivel chair. “I appreciate you calling me back. You do, in fact, have a Detective Asher who works for you? Uh, huh. Uh, huh. Would you mind giving me a general description of her?” Robinson eyed Makir who blew him a kiss.

  “Tell the Captain I said hi,” she whispered.

  “No. No, she isn’t in trouble. Yet.” Malcolm overheard a bark of laughter from through the receiver. “Yes, she is quite a joker. No, I can’t say why she is here, but I do appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. Uh-huh. Thank you again. Bye, now.” Robinson replaced the receiver and looked a hundred percent less smug than he had when he’d picked up the phone. “You are who you say you are, and your Captain confirms you do have a rather odd sense of humor. Said you claim to be immortal.”

  Makir raised her arms as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

  Her audacity blew Malcolm’s mind.

  “This still doesn’t explain why you are in my county and so interested in this case.”

  The phone rang for a second time. Robinson grabbed the receiver. “Detective Robinson. Oh, hi, Dr. Iverson. I’m sorry,” Robinson’s face paled as he stared in disbelief at the three of them. “Can you say that again?”

  22

  Robinson took the call from the medical examiner, jotting down fast notes. He ended the phone call with, “I’m on my way.”

  He jumped to his feet, pointing at each of them, opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for air.

  Makir rose to her feet like a lithe cat. “Something interesting come up?” She let her eyes fall to the front of his trousers.

  The detective crinkled his nose. “Don’t leave town.”

  Makir met the man as he crossed his desk. “I can’t make any promises. I never know when I have to pop to another country, literally, but I’ll be back.” She ran a finger over a bicep bulging through his blue dress shirt that matched his eyes. “It was my pleasure meeting you. I hope we can pleasure each other again soon.”

  Robinson blushed but waved a hand toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course.” Without another word or poorly disguised sexual innuendo, the three slipped back outside and into the rental car.

  “What is wrong with you? You seriously told him the truth!” Debbie pulled her hair down from the ponytail and let her long locks fall behind her back. “Are you trying to get us arrested?”

  Makir put the car in reverse and backed out. “You heard him. I’ve told my own precinct. The beauty is no one ever believes you. Even when you show them super strength or speed. Then they just laugh it off or blame it on adrenaline. Much easier to tell the truth than a lie.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I seem to remember you being burned at the stake once or twice. Did you tell the truth then?”

  Makir shivered. “Yes. That was one of the few times I preferred anonymity.”

  “I still don’t know why you let yourself be captured.”

  “I wanted to see what it was like.”

  Debbie stuck her head in between the two front seats. “You wanted to see what burning at the stake was like?”

  “Well, yeah. I’d died from every other manner. It’s definitely one I avoid now.”

  Debbie glanced between the two of them, but Malcolm had nothing to add. He’d never been one to go looking for a regeneration, but since Makir had been a warrior woman in one form or another during her whole existence, it didn’t surprise him that she’d experienced it way more than he had.

  “Why were you flirting with the cop?” Debbie asked.

  “Did you see him? Mmmm sex on a stick.”

  Debbie flopped backward. “Are all of you like this?”

  “Yes,” Malcolm and Makir said, laughing in harmony. Their laughter died away, and each sat in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Makir had certainly built up the case way more than Malcolm could have, but they were still no closer to finding out what happened than they were before. “We need to ask Halek to hack into Dr. Iverson’s files. I’d love to know what he found out.”

  Makir shot him a sideways glance.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You didn’t hear?”

  Of course he hadn’t heard. He no longer had super hearing. He gave her an exasperated look.

  “Right, you traded your superhero powers for a dick, my bad.” She lifted one eyebrow, and Malcolm wanted to smack her.

  “Well, what did he say?” Debbie tapped the seat.

  “Tara’s stomach contents came back. Not only was there no debris, suspicious enough if she’d drowned in the river, but what he did find was huge amounts of a certain bath oil. It just so happens this particular oil has to be imported, and an empty bottle of it was recovered at the cabin from the trash can by the investigation team.”

  Debbie lifted her arms. “What does that mean?”

  “It means there is now enough probable cause that Tara did not drown in the river, but in the bathtub at the cabin. Throw in the premortem bruising, bathing suit, and body dumped in the river, and we now have an official murder investigation.”

  23

  They’d actually got the police to reopen Tara’s case. Malcolm found himself happier than he would’ve expected. After skimming Tara’s last remaining memories, he’d become connected to her in a way very different than any other target before. Her beautiful soul deserved justice. Her life had been ripped out of existence and over what? Money!

  The thought struck a chord within him. It thrummed through his veins, jumping from one brain cell to the next while diving into the new version of his singularity.

  Somewhere along the way, they’d forgotten the most vital thing, Tara’s original dream.

  Makir interrupted his thoughts by tapping on his thigh. “Earth to Gab! Come in Gab.”

  “What?”

  Makir rolled her eyes and popped a large pink piece of bubble gum in her mouth. “I said we should look into the owner of the cabin. See if we can check out Tara’s apartment and talk with the rest of her teachers.”

  “No, first things first. We have to go to the Schneider Corporation.”

  “The what? Why?” Debbie asked.

  “I stole her dream.”

  “Yeah, I know. You tried to stop her from getting murdered by her psycho husband while she was pregnant.” Debbie locked eyes with him through the mirror on the passenger side’s sun visor.

  Malcolm shook his head, feeling like the asshole he was before the horrible words left his mouth. “Saving her from her death was nothing but a positive side effect.”

  Makir nodded her understanding, setting her jaw in a grim line.

  “What do you mean?”

  Debbie wouldn’t know the truth.

  “When we steal a dream, we sense the significant event that needed to change. The sensation is almost palpable.” He cringed inwardly, not wanting to vocalize this. “The changed future isn’t always a positive thing for the target. They are a means to an end. Tara herself is only significant to the future because without her, the Mayer Company would never take over the Schneider Corporation. If her life hadn’t been linked to that event, her dream wouldn’t have been stolen and her future not changed.”

  Debbie paled, face cracking in revulsion and disbelief. “You wouldn’t have saved her?”

  “I wouldn’t have known anything about her if not for that. Of course if I’d known, I’d want to save her, but that’s not always the way it works.” In fact, it never worked that way, but he wouldn’t dig himself into a further hole with the icy glare Debbie shot him.

  Debbie sat straighter and held out a hand. “Wait! Wait! Wait! You said the changed future isn’t always positive for the target. Are you trying to tell me that sometimes you change people’s futures in order for them to die?”

  Malcolm would give anything to remove the disgusted look on Debbie’s face. Makir saved him from having to answer. “Sometimes the target dies or ends up i
n a different romantic relationship instead of one that would make them happy, sometimes their children are never born, or they end up in a job they hate. Dream thieves don’t get to pick and choose. We’re cosmically ordered to do our jobs. That doesn’t mean we like knowing, on an intimate level, how much our actions have hurt an individual, but it’s the greater good of humanity that drives us.”

  “And how many atrocities and injustices have been done in the name of the greater good? Take me back to the hotel. I need…time.” Debbie flung her back into the seat. She crossed her arms over her chest, and the jingle of her bracelets came across as accusing.

  Makir said nothing as she made a U-turn. Malcolm tried to catch Debbie’s eye, but she kept her gaze focused outside, chewing on her bottom lip. The glassy look in her eyes clawed at his insides. Makir pulled back in the hotel, parking in front of the lobby entrance. Debbie got out without a word and stood by the passenger side. Malcolm rolled down the window, wanting to talk to her. Debbie extended her hand, palm up, waiting. He dug the wallet from his pocket, placing the keycard in her hand. He watched her hair swaying across her back along with her navy blue and white skirt. She disappeared inside and didn’t give him a second glance. Did I lose her that easily?

  Makir put the car in drive and shook her head with her lips pressed in a thin line. “That’s why you should never get heavily involved with humans. They don’t understand what it’s like being a dream thief or an immortal; they can’t. They don’t understand how insignificant some people end up being in the grand scheme of humanity. Revealing ourselves to them just risks us all more.”

  Malcolm clenched his jaw. “Skip the fucking lecture okay, Makir. As if all of us don’t already know about your little nighttime habits. Tell me, how many strap-ons have you used on prostitutes? I hope you clean them afterward and don’t spread disease!”

  Makir slammed on the brakes, earning them several blaring horns, middle fingers, and choice words. Makir ignored them all, jerking the car to the side of the road. She threw it in park and slung a fist straight into his jaw. It connected with a loud crack. Pain exploded over his chin and beside his ear with a mingling electric burning. His vision blinked into darkness with faint flashes of light before the world completely faded from view.

  Sounds distant and elusive lingered at the corner of Malcolm’s awareness. He fought to reach toward those noises like clinging to a lifeline, but with every inch gained, pain greeted him, making him debate if he would rather stay in the oblivion of darkness. However, once aware of the pain, he couldn’t ignore it away again, no matter how much he wished he could do so. Instead, he focused on small, insignificant things. The gentle rumble of his body. The vibration of an engine. A soft melody of violins, horns, and another instrument he couldn’t name. He recognized the song as Beethoven’s 5th. Oboe, that was the instrument. The second movement of the symphony turned softer and calmer than the first. With his brain processing again, he remembered the last thing that happened. He raised a heavy arm to wipe away the tears and crust from the corners of his eyes.

  “Oh good. You’re awake. Do you have any idea how slow people drive down here? It’s taking forever to get anything done. I wish I had my siren.” He turned his head toward the muffled sound. The back seat of the SUV seat obscured everything but Makir’s head. Turning his head, the back-passenger door came into view. She’d laid him down at some point. He pushed the automated button to raise the seat. The movement caused his head to swim. Queasiness rose in him like a tide, but he fought it off. Nothing on the two-lane road surrounded on either side by tall, lazy trees looked familiar. A soft breeze fluttered their leaves as the SUV whipped by. The pain in his jaw had reduced to a dull ache. “Yuhh punss mee.” The pain spiked with each movement of his mouth. The bitch broke his jaw.

  “What was that, dearie?” Makir raised her eyebrows, and the slick, fuck-you smile played on her lips.

  He flipped her the middle finger.

  The smile didn’t leave her lips as she returned her attention to the road. She shrugged. “That’s what you get for being a judgmental ass. It’s none of your fucking business how I live my life, and this will be the first and last time I warn you. Next time we’ll truly see if you’re still immortal, and I’ll show up at your regeneration spot and repeat the process until you get the damn picture.”

  Malcolm held both hands palm up in what he hoped conveyed “chill, I got it.” He’d known, despite the fun she had pleasuring men and woman, she never revealed her true nature to anyone. She had never truly connected to a human being other than a fleeting meeting before she never saw them again. She’d been the only one to never find anyone to connect with, and for that, he had nothing but pity for her. Not that he’d ever tell her that. If he did, a broken jaw would be the least of his worries.

  Malcolm knew he shouldn’t have said what he had, but Debbie’s leaving cut him to the core. That in no way gave him an excuse, and he knew it. Squeezing her shoulder in an apology, he gasped as at that moment, something snapped, sending burning pain through his jaw. Spots exploded in his vision as he screamed. Cold sweat covered his brow. He sat there panting, holding his jaw in shock. Makir reached over a hand and ran her fingers along the still tender bone while keeping the other on the wheel. “Oh good. Your mandible is healed. The bruising is almost gone too. Well,” she winked, “at least you know you heal faster than a human. Nowhere near how fast you did before, but that’s at least one good sign.”

  “Ouch.”

  Makir huffed a laugh, flipping the soothing classical station to a rock-n-roll station. A Lynyrd Skynyrd song neared the end of the track.

  “Where are we at?”

  Makir turned down the volume. “You spent the better part of the day passed out. I wasn’t about to waste time while you got your beauty sleep.” She grabbed a piece of gum from a plastic bag beside her, unwrapped it, and chewed. “First thing, after debating whether or not to dump your sorry ass off a cliff, was to call Omar. He’s set us up a time to see the Schneider Corporation. Our appointment is in about an hour and a half. It’s a damn good thing you woke up when you did.”

  Malcolm rubbed at his jaw. “And that my jaw healed.” Honestly, how did the woman think he could’ve shown up with a broken jaw? He checked his reflection in the overhead visor and hoped the yellowish bruising on his face cleared before their meeting.

  Makir let her lips perk up in a sly smile. “Put your grandma panties on and deal with it. I could tell you were healing.”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes, pushing the visor back up. “The expression is ‘put your big girl panties on!’”

  “No, uh, it’s grandma panties. I saw it on TV. This girl was wearing big bloomers.”

  “That’s granny panties, and you’re mixing the metaphors.”

  Makir burst a large bubble, splattering it all over her chin. She used her tongue like a dog to remove it from her face. “Whatever. You know what I mean. Since we had the whole day to kill, I interviewed Jack Fabion. He’s the owner of the cabin in the woods where Tara was murdered. He’s a long-term friend of Tara Booth’s dad and let her use it any time she wanted. Apparently, Tara and Jim liked their private weekends. They went all the time. Fabion and his wife, Susie, were both pretty distraught over her death. They weren’t high up on the suspect list, but we had to rule them out. As it turns out, they were in Vegas on the weekend of her death. No motive and rock-hard alibi. Next, I spoke with Tara’s professors, her boss, and coworkers. Nothing interesting there. Rebekah, her roommate, has to work until six tonight, but she agreed to let us come by to inspect the place at seven.”

  Makir snapped her fingers, leaned over, and grabbed a plastic bag from the floor. She sat it on her lap and removed a glass bottle filled with Starbucks mocha coffee. “Here. I always wanted to try these. Wish they made them without milk. Anyway, I figured you probably wouldn’t have an appetite when you woke up, but you’d might need the calories anyway. It’s totally weird trying to wrap my head around your new
body.”

  “Try living in it.” His stomach rolled, but perhaps a little something in his belly would help. The lid popped when the suction broke, and he took a tentative sip. The milky coffee only held a hint of chocolate but settled in his stomach like acid. “Not my favorite.” He returned the lid and sat it in the cup holder.

  “Next time maybe you’ll keep your mouth shut, and you can pick your own drink. Oh, and wipe the blood of your chin.” Makir flipped the visor again so he could inspect himself with more than just a cursory glance.

  Despite a minuscule drop of blood on his chin, which he wiped away with his thumb, his dark brown hair could use a brush, and stubble ran over his chin and jaw, but overall, he could pass. The large greenish bruise lined the underside of his jaw but appeared weeks old instead of only a couple of hours. As he watched, it faded a little more. Blood from the busted lip had stained the front of the light blue polo shirt. His blue jeans and sneakers hadn’t gotten soiled, but they certainly wouldn’t do with a meeting for the Schneider Corporation. “What’s our cover for the meeting?”

  Makir ruffled her short black locks. “Omar set us up as potential investors. He said that cover worked well for you at Avient Pharmaceuticals. Companies love money. Isn’t that right Barnaby Hart?” She snickered at his alias. “Mr. Hart and his assistant, Brittney Godard, are in the market.”

  “We can’t go wearing these clothes.”

  “Oh, I know. I stopped by the hotel. Debbie brought you out two suits to pick from with all the fancy trimmings. She’s letting me borrow one of her outfits.”

  He couldn’t decide what he caught his attention first, that Makir had spoken with Debbie or that she was going to wear her clothes. “You do realize you’re like a foot taller than her.”

  Popping another bubble, Makir said, “Yes, she was concerned about you and was none too happy with me for knocking your ass out. Don’t worry, she still loves you and doesn’t hate me.”