Her nostrils flared for a sec. “So we wait?”
“We could dance.” The beat of the music beckoned. “We could fly.” And then there were other activities. For example, he was very curious to discover what Big Sis could do here, would dare to do here, if she let go.
He needed to feel the awe of Rêve again, needed to remember what it was like to wonder—and she had the perfect combination of freshness and natural ability.
Would she share?
A shift in his senses, and he looked up, beyond Big Sis.
Another Envoi guest arrived on the beach, one of the experienced Revelers, a sad sack of a man with a worn look, stumbling into the moonlight. To enter the Rêve this quickly, he had to have a reasonable degree of both punch and skill. In the early days, someone might have recruited him. But not now; he was clearly an addict, living in dreams more than the real world, his life reduced to glimpses of fantasy.
Proof positive: the man’s appearance altered—his expression smoothed, shoulders loosened. Since Rêve was artificial, most people arrived in the clothing they wore when they were put to sleep—like Big Sis and her classic black dress. It took skill to consciously alter your appearance, and more to hold it for the duration. This sad sack guy gained some faux muscle, lost the paunch in his belly, and erased a decade from his face. Yeah, he had some control, but one look at his stressed pre-Rêve self, and it was clear that the dream controlled him right back.
Not that Rook could judge. Even here, in this cheesy predesigned place—
A mere thought, and the darkness in the trees suddenly gathered into a dense wave, a weight that threatened to smother him. Breathing became difficult; good thing he didn’t need oxygen here.His monster hadn’t taken long to find him, like a shadow tied to its master. It was always there, waiting for a moment of weakness.
Shit.
Danger worked differently in dreams—sometimes, if he didn’t look at the nightmares, they couldn’t see him, either. A kid’s game, obviously, but then children had to have learned it from somewhere.
He gritted his teeth and concentrated on his mark. She was the one he wanted. “What’s your name?”
It’s not there. Not there. Not there.
She’d turned to look at the sad sack newcomer, too—had to have sensed him since he was behind her—and had taken a backward step toward Rook.
“Jordan,” she mumbled. “Nice to meet you.”
She was the real deal, all right. Twitchy, but if she’d come this far, she’d just have to be brave enough to go deeper. No going back.
What nightmares would she waken?
Didn’t matter to him. Couldn’t. He had a job to do.
He moved to her side so that he could talk to her without blocking her view—God forbid he should get in the way of her watching for her sister.
“Nice to meet you too, Jordan. I’m—” What was his fake name again?
She wasn’t listening anyway. Her attention was completely absorbed, but not by the surreal starry landscape or the tropical jungle behind him. Now Jordan was looking around before each new Envoi guest broke through the Rêve barrier, anticipating each eruption, though they came from all directions onto the beach.
Coll was going to wet his pants.
Rook smiled as charmingly as he could. “I’ll bet there’s a bar on the other side of the trees. Can I buy you a drink?”
She didn’t bother to turn her head, but her gaze slid over, a brow lifting at the irony of his offer.
Old, tired joke. Money didn’t matter here—not yet—and there were no real drinks to be had. The Rêve high was in the euphoria that came from pure creation, being liberated from the restrictions of the rules. For those in pain, release.
There were lows too, which was what Coll had led with when he’d originally scouted him from that filthy deserted warehouse where he’d been crashing with a bunch of other runaways.
Jordan suddenly smiled, so bright with emotion that it was near blinding to someone with darksight like him. The feeling was direct from her heart, intensified by the dream. He’d bet her sister was on the brink of arriving.
A Technicolor flash, and sure enough, Wild Child broke through the Rêve barrier.
Arms out, Jordan ran toward her and they met in a movie-style hug. The dream cheesing it up again? Or were they for real?
“I couldn’t grab the doorknob,” Wild Child said, pulling back. “It kept moving every time I reached for it.”
Jordan laughed out loud. “I couldn’t even find the door! I was searching and searching, but it was nowhere.”
Rook was pretty damn sure that Jordan had opened the door as soon as it appeared. She must’ve been looking for something else.
“Oh my God! Will you look at this place!” Wild Child was gawking at the starry infinity drop.
Rook was more overwhelmed by Jordan.
She’d put a protective arm around her sister’s shoulders and was keeping her close, as if at any moment a tiger would leap out of the dark, and she would fight it single-handedly, putting her sister behind her.
He felt himself grow darker in comparison, his chest tightening with shame.
The woman deserved a good life, not one filled with nightmare after nightmare.
And yet, it was too late. Even now she was changing, and it couldn’t be undone. And if he’d scouted her, and Mr. Millions had scouted her, then the gamers on the Envoi who were behind the beach Rêve had, as well.
She wouldn’t last a week before she disappeared from her life. It was her own damn fault. Her instincts had said no—he’d caught that much from her nervous questions on the water taxi. She should’ve listened to them. Instinct was everything where Rêve was concerned.
“I want to dance!” Wild Child was trying to drag Jordan toward the tall, dark trees, where deep within, the club music pounded.
Jordan held back and kept her sister close. “Is it safe?”
Wild Child pulled out of her grasp, singing, “Safe and legal!” as she dove by him and into darkness.
Jordan looked like she was about to follow, but Mr. Millions suddenly appeared on the beach behind her. By her shoulders he turned her around—Rook took an angry step forward into starlight and watched as the man kissed her full on the mouth.
Son of a bitch. This guy had to go, and Rook was just the one to boot him out into the void. The couple broke apart—shock on both their faces. Rook was sure Millions’s was fake. Interesting hunting technique, however.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he babbled. “Must be the dream. Not that I didn’t want to kiss you. I did, which is probably why it happened.”
Millions knew exactly what he was doing.
Jordan was shaking her head, basically saying it was okay. She was too damn trusting. She’d soon learn that the Rêve—pretty vacation beaches, gaming mazes, or even army war simulations—was full of liars. Rêve was made for liars.
“No no. It’s fine,” she said. “You just surprised me is all.”
“Surprised myself.” Millions did some bashful, aw-shucks crap, hand to the back of his neck. Might as well find an excuse to take off his shirt.
“Well, the place is surreal.” Jordan shrugged a little, bashful herself. “Interesting things are bound to happen.”
She liked him? It was the money, had to be.
Rook stepped back into the trees to watch.
The talent was there, but somebody had to clue her in fast that Rêve was the new hunting ground for predators who could do freaky shit for which there was no earthly explanation.
Rook was one of them, both by nature and by training.
“Hi,” said a female voice off to his right. The blonde from Envoi.
Rook set his teeth.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” She was looking for a fantasy hookup.
“No.” He was working.
He cast his gaze to the tacky sparkly steam far off to the right, where lava from the volcano met the water. He felt rather volcanic in
side himself.
Gaze distracted, he sought through the miasma of energy for the concentration of intelligence that was Jordan. He touched her dream to get a taste of her distinctive essence, like a dog scenting before the hunt. A fingerprint. A hint of her soul.
If she had never entered the Rêve, he’d never have been able to find her.
And now he always would.
***
Jordan whipped around to glare at the guy in the trees. What was his name again?
He was staring at the volcano, of all things, but the dark stroke, definitively masculine, had come from him. Her nerve endings quivered still. He’d touched her somehow, though she could never prove it; the man was standing yards away from her.
Except—did distance really mean anything in a dream?
Vince had wheeled away momentarily to take in the amazingly clear sky. “I’ve never felt like this before. This is heaven.”
Jordan turned back to Vince. Who’d kissed her. Not that she minded, but she was still surprised. He hadn’t just been flirting before. Maybe he really liked her.
Wouldn’t take much to like him back, especially here.
The beach was perfect. Except for that one hot touch, she felt perfect. The air was warm and soft against her skin, the faintly salty ocean breeze gently stirring her hair. No part of her body hurt; she wasn’t tired at all for the first time in years. The stress of life had evaporated; her heart was light. If she breathed in deeply enough, then yes, she might just be able to fly. Why not?
“I understand now why the lines are so long to get in,” she said. And this was only one very commercial Rêve. A simple vacationy beach retreat, designed to appeal to the masses. What other places could she go?
Vince had his hands in his hair, gripping his head, as if to force belief. “We could climb the volcano. God! Want to climb a volcano? Explore?”
There was something for everyone here: a little adventure, the music for dancing, the ocean—someone was actually stripping down to their shiny butt to go for a swim. And a couple had just paired off and headed into the trees.
“I have to find Maze. Make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”
Jordan didn’t want to tick him off, especially if he was interested in her, but… “It’s why I came, and I see things through.” As in, I’ll take care of your account just as well, should you bring your business to me. “Go on ahead and I’ll catch up.”
“No, I’ll go with you.”
She waved him off anyway. “It’s our girls’ night. Just give me a sec to check on her.”
Turning away, she looked for Maze’s tracks in the sand and followed them. She passed that guy in the trees again. He was hot, no denying the flush of her reaction, but he felt…wrong to her. Something…dark about him. And that strange touch, now gone…she knew it had to have been him.
Maisie’s footprints went several steps deep into the trees, where the white sand of the beach gave way to darker earth and low-winding growth, first thin, tangled-hair roots, then green brambles that laced and twisted together. The scent grew pungent with growing things. Strange birdcalls sounded from the high reaches of the trees, and she wouldn’t put it past the Envoi to make the animals tame, so that she might pet a panther.
Silly, but cool. She was happy. Inexplicably happy.
Likewise, whoops and laughter punctuated the dance party’s music. Bright light pierced through the trees and she knew that she only had to go a little farther and she could dance the night away—with no aching feet.
But it didn’t feel like Maze was there.
No, not there. Her tracks had disappeared, but Jordan could feel them anyway, and her sister’s steps led…
That way.
Everything was so easy here. A mere impulse and things happened.
As she followed the path, the trees seemed to open obediently before her. The shadows were spooky dark and deep, but that was okay, she wouldn’t hold a grudge against the night. Any moment now she’d see her sister. “Maze?”
Sure enough, Jordan heard her voice.
“I said I’m not going back there,” her little sister said.
“You will. It’s the job,” came an unkind response from a male. So mean. “It’s what you’re paid for.”
“Then I qu—” Maisie’s last word broke off into a squeak of a scream.
Jordan’s heart chugged, and the sense of wellbeing broke away like ice on a windshield. It slid right off her as she leaned into a run.
Danger. Maisie was in danger.
She ran forward through the trees, but she knew she was getting nowhere and would never reach her sister—how many times had she had this nightmare?—so for the first time in her life, Jordan changed it up and held on with her mind to the place she wanted to reach. At last she felt herself draw closer.
She broke through the trees to find her sister suspended five feet in the air, trembling in an unseen grip, her chest jerking as if she were attempting to inhale, but couldn’t. Her feet in her funky red heels hung limp.
“Maisie!” Jordan grabbed hold of her ankle and calf, but couldn’t bring her down.
And Maisie clearly couldn’t answer. She was suffocating.
“Help!” Jordan shouted, but her voice wouldn’t travel. “Help me!” she screamed. But no one could possibly hear.
The dark seemed to press in from all sides, now malevolent and cruel. This is a Rêve, Jordan told herself. No one can get hurt in a dream. They’d done studies. This was merely a manifestation of her own fears.
She wanted the Rêve to end now. “Envoi!”
Distress was supposed to wake them up. And both she and her sister were most definitely distressed.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a rushing, dark blur. She heard fast breaths, not her own, not her sister’s, but definitely two, as if grappling.
A man’s voice cried out and Maisie fell abruptly to the ground, coughing and gagging.
Jordan wrapped her arms around her sister, while trying to scootch her back from whomever or whatever was scrambling in the dark. How to get out of here? How to wake up?
She wanted her money back.
The dark flashed, and this time she saw it had a human shape.
Blink. To the right.
Blink. Higher to the left.
Blink. That guy again!
Blink. Definitely fighting something.
Static roar filled her head and then in a sonic gulp—silence.
And that water taxi guy—the one from the beach—was left over.
He was a dark man-shape looming above her. “Is she okay?”
Right. Jordan wiped Maze’s dark pink hair from her face to check.
“I’m fine,” she croaked, pushing back, and wiping under her eyes.
“What’d he want?” the guy asked her sister.
Maze shook her head. A shudder ran through her. “I don’t know.”
Which lit Jordan’s fire. She’d heard Maze talking to the guy. She’d heard her say, “I quit” to him. Lil’ sis was lying. Oh, this was just classic. She knew, all right.
“Did you let him into the Rêve?” the beach man demanded. “He wasn’t an Envoi guest.”
“I—I went for a walk,” she said. “And he came out of nowhere.”
Typical Maisie bullshit. There was no knowing what to believe with her. If she hadn’t still been trembling, Jordan would’ve shaken her. This was exactly why Jordan had emptied her savings account so that her little sister wouldn’t go alone. She was always in some kind of trouble.
Jordan bit down on her anger, addressing the man before her. “Is he gone now?”
The hot water taxi guy—guess she’d have to like him now—nodded.
“I woke him in the waking world. He shouldn’t be able to find his way back without help.” He added a pointed look at Maisie.
Everyone knew she was lying, then.
“Thanks.” Jordan stood up. Left her sis in a ball on
the ground. Reached out to shake his hand. “I thought Rêves were supposed to be safe.”
“Would’ve been,” he said. Then cursed. “Looks like I’m out, too.”
And his body caved, the color of him sucking out of a single point, like a minute black hole, right in front of her. Spectacularly bad special effects.
Jordan was left gaping at nothing. She guessed that meant he’d been awakened as well, and eventually—when the party was over—she and her sister would be, too.
Not what they’d signed up for.
She turned on her sister. “What the hell?”
“God, it’s nothing.”
“I also heard you say you’re not going ‘back there.’ Where’s there?”
“Nowhere.”
“You’ll tell me.”
“It’s none of your business.”
Jordan put her hands to her hips and bowed her head to cool off. Deep breath. Count to ten. Call her bluff. “Someone attacked my sister. Of course I’m going to have to report it.”
Maze stood, eyes wide, shaking her head. “No, you don’t.”
“Then start talking. Like now.”
Her sister fumed for a moment, then held out her hands as if to say, Don’t freak.
Too late. “I’m waiting.”
“It’s my job. And it pays well.”
This was getting worse and worse. “What’s your job?”
“I deliver packages across Rêve.” She dropped her hands, now saying, There. Totally okay.
“You deliver—?” Seemed someone had already found another way to monetize Rêve beyond the fantasy dreams that were so popular. Of course they had.
Jordan was going to be sick.
“It’s totally cool,” Maze said. “I get to cross dreamspace. I’m in the middle of it all.”
“What do you deliver?”
“It’s not my business what I deliver. Does a bike messenger open his packages?”
“You’re a bike messenger?” In Rêve?
“I am a courier. I get unlimited access, whenever I want. They paid for me to come here, and you had to shell out, like, thousands, right? I play in Rêve every night.”
Uh-huh. Maze had lied about this being the first time. Faked her reaction upon entry. But that was a secondary concern. “Do you know what you’re transporting? And for whom?”
Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance Page 47