Dreamwalker

by Allyson James

  “Glad to see you in one piece,” he said after squeezing me. “Again. You need to start taking me as your backup.”

  “I couldn’t stop her getting hurt,” Mick said, sounding irritated. “What makes you think you could?”

  “Hey, two dragons are better than one. Three,” Colby added as Drake strode out from the hotel. “Even better. What’s the word, Drakey?”

  Drake gave him a stern look, but halfheartedly, as though he couldn’t conjure up the energy to be angry with Colby. He looked unhurt, destroying my theory that a person had to be knocked into a coma to go dreamwalking. Dragons healed quickly, but Drake’s words confirmed he’d been nowhere near the jail when it had come down on me and hurt Maya.

  “I was deep in meditation,” he said without bothering to greet us, “when I seemed to go back in time. I found myself reliving the night Micalerianicum told the Dragon Council he would protect you against them. You were there, when you shouldn’t have been.”

  Drake looked straight at me, and I nodded. “I know. I lived it too. None of it really happened, did it? When I woke up, Mick was his dragon self, and I bet the Dragon Council had no memory of you fighting them.”

  “They did not.” Drake’s sigh held deep regret. “All the same, I tendered my resignation with the council. I am no longer employed by Bancroft.”

  I blinked, and Colby whistled. Mick looked unsurprised, so Drake must have already told him.

  “But it didn’t really happen,” I argued. “It was only a dream. Or an alternate reality that fled when we woke.”

  Drake gazed pensively at Flora, who was laying out crystals around the mirror. “That does not matter. That night I saw Bancroft’s true colors —he was willing to kill Micalerianicum to prove a point, when Mick was in the right. I realized that, to Bancroft, the might of the Dragon Council is more important than the lives of those who have made sacrifices in the fight against evil.” He looked at me again, sorrow and shame in his dark eyes. “Bancroft and Aine are more interested in their own power than keeping the world safe. I decided when I woke from this dream that I could no longer work for the Dragon Council.”

  I listened in surprise, but Colby was even more stunned than I was. “So you finally saw the light, did you Drakey? You might not actually have a heart of stone.”

  “They let you quit?” I asked. “Didn’t they try to stop you?”

  Drake gave me a patient look. “As I explained before, I took the job with them of my own free will. I had a salary, along with room and board and a pension plan. But none of that is worth losing my integrity.”

  Gabrielle had joined us from the hotel in time to hear him. “Dragons have pension plans?” she asked. “What, more things for your hoard?”

  “Yes,” Drake answered in all seriousness. “Annually, I am given a bonus to take back to my island.”

  “Cool.” Gabrielle slid her hands into her back pockets and looked him up and down. “Show it to me sometime?”

  “Hey, my hoard’s way wickeder than his,” Colby said. Gabrielle looked over her shoulder at him and sent him a broad wink.

  Colby wasn’t finished. “Does this mean your position with the Dragon Council is vacant?” he asked Drake. “What are the qualifications, besides being a good toady?”

  Mick rumbled with laughter. “You’d never make it with the Dragon Council, Colby. They’d end up killing you, or you them.”

  “Why would you want to?” I asked. “You’ve never had anything good to say about the Dragon Council, and Bancroft held you prisoner for a while.”

  “I know.” Colby studied the blue sky. “But someone needs to keep an eye on them, don’t you think? Bancroft knows me, and I can pretend to obey his every command. Plus, I wouldn’t mind a pension plan and yearly bonuses.”

  Mick looked thoughtful. “Not a bad idea. Sure you won’t reconsider, Drake? You could be our inside man.”

  Drake gave a faint shudder. “No. Not after seeing their true colors. I knew Bancroft and his ilk were not kind, but they have a cruelty I did not understand. I cannot unlearn what I’ve learned, and I cannot pretend anymore.”

  Gabrielle shot him a smile. “The scales fell from your eyes, did they?”

  Drake’s glance at her held embarrassment. “So to speak.”

  “Good.” Gabrielle brushed past Drake, letting her shoulder move across his upper arm. Drake flushed a dull red.

  “Real funny.” Colby looked back and forth between Drake and Gabrielle, his eyes narrowing. He lost his good humor and began to growl.

  My grandmother came hobbling into this interesting situation. “Gabrielle, come with me.”

  Gabrielle rolled her eyes. She grabbed my wrist and towed me a few feet from the group as Grandmother and Elena moved briskly toward the railroad bed. “Drake wasn’t meditating that night,” Gabrielle said in a low voice. “He was with me, out near the railroad bed behind the saloon. I guess I was too much for him, because he passed out.”

  “Wait.” I pulled her to a halt. “What do you mean with you?”

  “What do you think I mean?” Gabrielle’s dark eyes held triumph. “All right, so we didn’t have actual sex. But we made out—a lot. Dragons have a boatload of passion. I can see why you like Mick.”

  “You,” I repeated, my mouth stiff. “And Drake?”

  “Yes, me and Drake. Why are you so surprised? I like him.”

  “I thought you liked Colby.”

  “Oh, I do. I like them both. Hot and fiery, or cool and deep—I can’t decide.”

  “Gabrielle,” I said. The sharp note in my voice was pure Grandmother. “You can’t play with them. Colby and Drake might be big and dangerous, but they have feelings. Don’t mess with them. They don’t deserve that.”

  Gabrielle lost her teasing look. “Did it ever occur to you that I have feelings too? Maybe I keep them both around because I don’t want to be hurt. If one doesn’t want me, the other one might. Not everyone is lucky like you, Janet.”

  With that, she jerked away and marched off after Grandmother and Elena.

  I returned to the dragons. Colby was glaring at Drake, and Drake looked uncomfortable.

  I’d have to keep an eye on things, I realized in exasperation. Dragons took mating very seriously. If Colby and Drake began a rivalry for Gabrielle, one of them could end up dead. I liked Colby, and Drake was beginning to grow on me. Drake had honor and a sense of right and wrong, and he’d proved his worth more than once.

  Others who’d come to witness Flora’s attempt to repair the mirror included Jamison Kee. Jamison was Navajo, a Changer, and my oldest friend. He was handsome and strong, a brilliant sculptor, and had been a shaman and a storyteller long before he’d learned he could shape-shift.

  His wife, Naomi Hansen, told me she’d fallen in love with Jamison’s voice when he’d come to town to tell stories. I believed her, having heard him myself, his timbre moving from low and velvet soft to growling and earth-vibrating, depending on the story. The night Naomi had met him, he’d asked her about her daughter, Julie, for whom Naomi had related all the tales in sign language.

  Not long after that, Jamison had moved in with Naomi in her house behind Hansen’s Garden Center. They’d fallen in love hard and fast, weathered danger and the great change in Jamison’s life, and were still together. They had a strong bond that couldn’t be broken.

  Julie, Naomi’s daughter from her first marriage, had total deafness. Nothing had worked to restore Julie’s hearing, except for a spell Jamison had performed this summer, using very dangerous magic. The spell had worked, and Julie had been able to hear perfectly.

  But the spell had almost killed Jamison, and me, and brought a crapload of bad people after him. I’d had to take away the source of the spell or these bad people—one of whom was Emmett—would have destroyed him, and likely Julie and Naomi as well.

  When I’d gone to visit Jamison and family a few weeks after that, Julie’s hearing had been gone again. The spell had faded, and her deafness had returned
. I had hoped that the magic, whose source was a goddess, would prevail, but apparently, once the talisman had disappeared, its effects had worn off.

  Julie had said she didn’t mind—she’d rather have Jamison and her mother whole and unhurt. She now had an understanding of what it was like to hear, she said, which she wouldn’t trade for anything. Julie, all of twelve now, was braver than anyone I knew.

  I waved to Julie where she stood with Jamison and Naomi, and Julie grinned and waved back.

  “Why are all these people here?” I asked Cassandra. “Does Flora need an audience?”

  “Not an audience.” Cassandra watched Flora, who was directing Fremont and Don to lay the magic mirror face up on a large wooden table they’d dragged from the storage shed. “She needs earth magics to bolster her own. The dragons, Changers, and shamans will ground her as she works. Most witches learn to tap others for magic—we give it willingly to each other to make a spell work. The magic is stronger that way.”

  I hadn’t known that, though I had seen that spells Mick and I did together, such as warding the hotel, had a power we each lacked on our own. I hadn’t realized it was a common thread in all magekind.

  “Emmett must have exploited that when he was a beginning mage,” I mused. “Except he didn’t stop at sharing collective magic to make good spells. He drained those who came to help him and stole their magic.”

  “Exactly.” Cassandra’s word was crisp. “That’s what an Ununculous does. Which is why we will end him.”

  Pamela, next to her, gave a decided nod.

  Fremont let down his corner of the mirror with a thump, flakes of gold leaf floating from it. Fremont’s admiring look at Flora left no doubt about his feelings toward her.

  I could not help a sense of foreboding. Fremont’s choices in women, since I’d met him, had been nothing short of disastrous. A couple of those choices had almost gotten all my friends, including him, killed.

  For now, Flora seemed harmless, but give it time. At the moment she was running her fingers over the glass of my magic mirror.

  Ooh, the mirror said. I like that. And it’s soooo nice to see the sky again. I’ve missed the outdoors.

  “You see it every day,” I told it as I came to stand next to Fremont. “A part of you is in the mirror on my bike.”

  Details. I mean like this—all of me looking up at the sunshine. Ah … bliss.

  “Hush now,” Flora said. She kept one hand on the mirror, but stretched the other out toward Fremont. “Now, if you will all join hands, we can begin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I took Fremont’s hand and extended the other to Mick, who’d not let me stray far from his side. His hand was taken by Elena, who connected to my grandmother.

  Flora spread her fingers on the broken mirror, moving to cover the large bullet hole in its center. Fortunately, the mirror quieted down. I felt its awe come to me through Flora and Fremont, and I tried to send back comfort.

  I did not know what to expect. I didn’t know much about witch magic, except what I’d seen Cassandra and Mick use, and the spells Mick had taught me. All involved accoutrements of some kind—a candle, incense, sage or other herbs, or crystals, though Mick had told me the accoutrements were only there to give focus to the spell.

  Flora used nothing. She didn’t chant to the Goddess or speak in Celtic or Latin, she simply began to sing. The song was in English and uncomplicated, a celebration of life and magic.

  Come together

  Fill our hearts

  Join with magic

  Let magic flow

  The song could have been taken from a Wicca 101 type book, but for all its simplicity, I felt its power. Flora had a pleasant voice that kept in tune, pretty to listen to.

  She continued singing, smoothing her fingers over the mirror. Fremont squeezed my hand and leaned to whisper in my ear. “Isn’t she awesome?”

  I reserved judgment. What I saw was a nice young woman with a good voice bringing us all together and touching the mirror.

  When my storm magic jumped inside me—on this cloudless day—and began to flow toward Fremont, my heartbeat sped in alarm. I instinctively tried to tamp my magic down, but Mick leaned in on my other side.

  “Let it.”

  I felt his fire magic seeping to me, warm and comforting. I relaxed, let Fremont take the trickle of my magic, and in turn soaked in Mick’s.

  Soon I started feeling other magics coming down the line. The wild bite of wolf and mountain lion—Pamela and Jamison. The white hot spark of Cassandra—fire and air. The solid grounding of Grandmother’s earth magic, and the sharp cut of Elena’s ancient shaman power.

  I sensed the other two dragons, hesitant at first, then joining in. I felt a weird tingle that reminded me, oddly, of tree roots, which I concluded came from the goblins. I couldn’t place another shamanistic tingle until I realized it came from Don, the assistant cook. Of course—Elena would want to bring someone magical to work with her.

  Non-magical humans had also joined in the ring. From them I sensed the grounding Flora would need, a path to the real world. Naomi, Julie … and Maya.

  Maya was at the end of the line. Nash stood near her, but he had his arms folded, not touching her or anyone else. I wondered if someone had explained that his null magic would wipe out the spell, or if he just didn’t like taking part in group circles. Maya was paler than usual, with a white bandage on her forehead peeking out from under her dark hair.

  Nash’s face was drawn, lined with worry, and he kept his eyes behind his sunglasses trained on Maya. I remembered his horrified shock in the dream, when he’d shot Maya. I wondered if Maya remembered the dream, and if she’d told him about it.

  Flora continued to sing. Sunshine beamed down on us, a fine late September day. Soon the nights, then the days, would begin to chill as winter came, but for now, the sun embraced us with warmth.

  Under Flora’s hands, the mirror began to shimmer. It reflected the bright sky, broken into crazed patterns and multiple images, but now it began to glow from within. The glass tinkled as the mirror moved, more loose gilt floating to the ground.

  The song grew louder, though I didn’t note Flora raising her voice. I realized then that the mirror was reflecting what she sang, increasing the melody as it did the light.

  I was enjoying the song, mesmerized by Flora’s voice, when a sound like falling aluminum cans broke the music, clunky and loud. I jumped, and the mirror let out a shrill scream.

  Oh no, I’m melllltinnnng …

  I didn’t worry too much, because the mirror was putting on a Wicked Witch of the West voice, but it unnerved me to watch the shards of glass suddenly liquefy, flowing without restraint within the frame.

  Flora lifted her hands as soon as the mirror began to melt. The glass glowed red then yellow, rivaling the color of the sun. The mirror let out another thin scream, which faded as its pitch rose higher.

  I sucked in a breath. I could feel our collective, pooled magic pouring into Flora, who had her eyes closed, a serene look on her face. She moved her hand above the mirror, though the heat coming off it was roasting hot.

  Flora made little circles in the air with her palm and continued to sing.

  Sand and light

  Silver and gold

  Flow together

  Be as one

  Mick squeezed my hand. I felt his love for me come through the clasp. My ring on my other hand warmed, and Fremont’s grip tightened on my fingers.

  Mick and I had been through a lot. The rocky start to our relationship, him following me here, our battles with both human and supernatural forces. He’d almost been taken from me a couple of times, but here we were, holding hands, like the goblin couple, still a pair at the end of it all.

  The aluminum can sound was replaced with a silvery chiming. Sweet and clear, it shimmered, and was answered by the long, drawn-out cry of a coyote.

  The mirror itself—its voice—had gone completely silent. I wasn’t certain whether tha
t was because of the spell, the changes to the glass, or its choice. The mirror sometimes decided to go dark of its own accord.

  The molten glass began to spin under Flora’s hand, following her movements to create a vortex. The cracks were gone, as was the hole left by the gunshot. The frame, strangely, remained intact, though it was made of wood gilded over. It should have long since combusted—the table beneath it as well.

  Within the frame, the glass spiraled, the ripples dancing across the surface. The ripples collided with the sides of the frame and flowed back over themselves.

  Flora repeated her verse—Sand and Light; Silver and Gold—then she stopped circling her hand and began gliding it, above the mirror, toward the corners of the frame, as though smoothing a bed sheet.

  The undulating waves died down, the glass floated to the edges of the flame, evening itself, the glow slowly fading. The silver continued to ring, though at one point I heard a faint clank among the purity. I glanced around, wondering if anyone else had heard it too, but no one seemed to have noticed.

  My imagination? I wondered. Bad things were never products of my imagination, unfortunately. I braced myself.

  Nothing happened. That is, nothing except the glass in the mirror easing seamlessly to the extent of the frame. A faint breeze blew up from the north, and little by little, the glass cooled down.

  The yellow glow faded to red, which in turn diminished until it became clear glass. The silver, which had been in the mix somewhere, spread out behind the glass until a mirror lay quietly, reflecting the immense expanse of the desert sky.

  Flora breathed out, opened her eyes, and released Fremont’s hand. “Thank you,” she said in her mellow voice. “That will be—”

  Her words cut off abruptly, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed. Fremont gave a cry and caught her in his arms.

  The rest of the circle broke apart, either to peer worriedly at Flora or to give her some space. Flora’s eyelids fluttered, and she looked at Fremont in complete infatuation as he gave her a sip of bottled water. Mick stepped to her and touched her shoulder, no doubt sending her a spark of healing magic, but Flora never took her gaze from Fremont.