But he knew where he was going and who would be there.
He felt the warmth from the Heart of Yggdrasil on his face before he saw the small wooden chamber. The instant Daniel came into focus, Vincent lunged at him. Daniel was quicker. Up came the staff, striking Vincent directly in the solar plexus. Vincent fell back, gasping for breath, and watched helplessly as Daniel grabbed Destiny’s wrist.
Daniel pulled the elf toward him, spinning her around so that she faced Vincent. He held the staff against her throat, pinning her body against his. Tears welled up in Destiny’s eyes.
Vincent suppressed another series of coughs and, ignoring the pain in the center of his chest, straightened into a mostly upright position. “You want to kill her?” he wheezed. “Go ahead. She’s not real.”
“She’s real to Suzanne,” Daniel said. “But you’re right. Threatening a two-dimensional character from a wannabe writer’s secret novel is pretty pointless. Now if she were the love of your life, that would make for an interesting situation.”
Instantly, Destiny’s terrified visage became his wife’s. Wearing the elf’s medieval clothes, Bella looked like she was dressed up for a Halloween party. Her expression of absolute confusion changed to that of suspicion when she recognized Vincent.
“That’s not really her…is it?” Vincent asked, his voice breaking.
Daniel ignored the question. “Then again, maybe you don’t love Bella anymore. It’s been more than a year since you kissed her cousin and she kicked you out.” Daniel’s lips curled into a one-sided smile. “I mean, it’s not like she’s the last woman you’ve seen naked.”
Bella disappeared. A panicked-looking Paish took her place.
“What the fu—?” Paish started to say, but Daniel pulled the staff tighter against her windpipe, cutting off her air.
Daniel clucked his tongue. “A pierced-up coed? Really, Vince?”
“Why are you doing this?” Vincent considered the weight of the hammer in his hand. Would Daniel really kill Paish if he rushed him? Could he kill her?
“Ah, but she was just a fling,” Daniel continued. “At least your latest crush is closer to your age.”
Vincent inhaled sharply.
No, not her…
He watched helplessly as Paish’s pale skin darkened to olive. Her blond hair became shorter, straighter, and black. Leah’s panic-stricken eyes stared into Vincent’s.
“Nice to meet you, Leah. Wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Daniel said.
Vincent swallowed the sickening taste in his throat. “That’s…that’s not really her.”
“Vincent,” Leah started to say.
“Shut up!” Daniel yanked the staff up higher, forcing Leah’s head and neck into an unnatural position and eliciting a yelp of pain from the woman. “Of course, it’s her. I brought her here the same way I brought you. Didn’t Odin tell you? I’m a dream drifter.”
Damn your poker face, Daniel!
“You’re bluffing,” Vincent said.
Scoff. “Quite the gamble you’d be taking. Have you forgotten that the good doctor suffers from a disorder that causes her to act out her dreams? Something tells me she’s not safely handcuffed to her bed right now.”
“How could you know?”
“I’ve been in your head, big brother.”
Quiet strangling sounds escaped Leah’s lips, and Vincent couldn’t avoid looking at her any longer.
I’m so sorry I got you into this.
He wondered what Jerry and Suzanne were thinking back in the real world, what they would do if Leah began stumbling around uncontrollably or if she started choking on nonexistent blood?
What will the police do if she refuses to put her hands where they can see them?
Vincent dropped the hammer. The resulting crash echoed through the small chamber. “What do you want from me?”
Daniel’s expression grew serious, and Vincent felt more afraid than ever.
“I want you to make a choice,” he said softly. “I promised I would reunite you with Clementine, and I’m finally in a position to do that. But you have to choose whose life is more important, Clementine’s or Leah’s.”
The room began to teeter, and Vincent braced himself against the altar that held the Heart of Yggdrasil.
“Watch out for that sphere,” Daniel cautioned. “The elf was right. Whoever touches it dies. Now, if I understand Suzanne’s story, Locke doesn’t want either Valenthor or Destiny to touch it. One of them is the Chosen One, after all, so if either of them touches the Heart of Yggdrasil, the barrier between worlds opens and the gods, Ancestors, or whatever will return to fight the Dark Ones. Since Locke is hoping for a one-sided battle, he would offer Valenthor his daughter’s soul if he, Valenthor, lets Locke kill the elf princess. Then the two of them can walk away from the sphere.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m getting to that,” Daniel replied. “We have to stick close to the script, or this won’t work. Anyway, I’m making the same offer. Just say the word, and I’ll kill Leah. Then I’ll take you to Clementine. You’ll be able to see her whenever you want.”
No. He can’t really do it. He’s lying, like always.
But what if he isn’t?
Vincent swallowed hard. “Clementine…will she…live in this place? Would I have to come here, as Valenthor, in order to spend time with her, as Valentine? Or…would we be able to go anywhere I can dream of?”
Leah groaned, but he refused to meet her eyes.
“Only one way to find out,” Daniel said.
Vincent wiped his eyes and let out a wordless cry of pure frustration.
He’s insane. There’s no other explanation.
Maybe it runs in the family.
This has to end.
Now.
Vincent breathed a shaky sigh, “I’m sorry, Leah. But if there’s a chance I can see my daughter again… For all I know, he’d kill you anyway.” Vincent clutched the edge of the altar and bowed his head. “Just make it quick, Danny.”
“Wait, what?” Daniel asked. “Really?”
Here goes nothing!
Vincent let out a roar that would have done Valenthor proud, lifted the Heart of Yggdrasil above his head, and threw it at his brother. The sphere struck him in the side of the head. Daniel fell. The room erupted into an inferno of golden light. Invisible flames blistered the skin on Vincent’s hands, burning every place that had made contact with the orb.
He pushed the pain aside and tried to take a step toward Leah, but then an intense light burst from a crack in the sphere, and he was completely consumed.
***
Vincent was pretty sure he was dead.
The cold void was a shocking contrast to the heat of the destroyed Heart of Yggdrasil. A dull whiteness permeated everything around him, an effect that made him question whether he was actually seeing at all. He rubbed his eyes. The fact that he had eyes—and hands to rub them—seemed to suggest his continued existence.
A voice behind him said, “It’s always snowing here. Just like the day she died.”
Daniel wore a pair of blue jeans and the black hoodie that had been a staple component of his wardrobe throughout high school and for years thereafter. There was no sign of Locke’s ragged coat. Or his staff.
Vincent tackled Daniel.
They landed in heap, producing a deformed snow angel beneath them. Sitting on top of his brother’s stomach, Vincent lost control. His fist slammed into Daniel’s nose once, twice. He lost count.
When Vincent finally stopped, he realized he was crying.
Daniel turned his head, spit a mouthful of blood into the snow, and laughed. “Why does our quality time always end in a fight?”
Struggling for breath, Vincent asked, “Where…is…Leah?”
“You called it, Vince. She was never here.”
Vincent considered landing a final blow.
“Go ahead and hit me some more if it makes you feel better,” Daniel said. “It won’
t change anything. This is just a dream, remember?”
Daniel’s broken nose straightened. The spattered blood evaporated.
Vincent climbed to his feet. “Why, Daniel? What is the point of all this?”
Daniel pulled himself up but stayed sitting in the snow. “You had to believe that Leah’s life was in your hands. I’m glad you chose to save her. I’ll admit, you had me going for a second there.” He raised a hand to forestall any interruption. “The truth is, you act like your life ended the day Clementine died. And since I found myself in a unique opportunity to help you have a revelation, I took it.”
Vincent eyed his brother warily. “What revelation is that?”
“That you can’t bring her back, and even if you could find a way to cheat death, you shouldn’t.” Daniel stood up and brushed the snow off the back of his pants. “Everybody dies, Vince. It sucks, but it’s true. And contrary to your recent experiences, we only get one life. Don’t throw it away out of some misplaced sense of guilt.”
Vincent looked away, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. “I always thought I’d do anything to get my daughter back, and there was a part of me that did want to trade Leah for Clementine.” He let out a long sigh and watched his breath drift into the chilly air. “And if I actually believed you could do what you promised, I just might have let you kill Leah.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Daniel insisted. “Deep down, you’re a good guy. You just have to let go of the past and let yourself have a future.”
Vincent shot Daniel a skeptical look. “So you did all of this to teach me a lesson?”
“Well, that’s not the whole story,” Daniel confessed. “Like I said before, this thing is bigger than our family. But I’m done messing around with false gods. I feel bad about having used Suzanne’s imagination for a hideout, but I had to find a place off of everyone else’s radar that I could get to easily. Anyway, neither of us will be going back there, and what all of those other dream drifters do while Suzanne’s story comes to an end is their business. She’ll be none the wiser.”
“The Dream is finally over, then?” Vincent was surprised at how conflicted he felt about the possibility.
“It’s over for you. Valenthor just died, taking Locke with him. Guess he was the Chosen One, after all.”
“But he wasn’t able to save his daughter…”
Daniel shrugged. “Well, he did kill Locke, who presumably cursed Valentine in the first place. That’s my theory, anyway. So I’m guessing Valentine will wake up, and Destiny will find her, and the two of them will live happily ever after in a brave, new world. A happy enough ending.”
Vincent grunted and kicked at the snow.
“But that’s not your ending,” Daniel added, stepping over to Vincent’s. “I promised I’d bring you and Clementine together, didn’t I?”
Daniel stretched out his arm and pointed to a building that Vincent hadn’t noticed until that exact moment. His legs gave out, but Daniel caught him. The old house looked exactly as Vincent remembered it.
“Come on, Vince. She’s waiting for you.”
***
The screen door slammed, and Clementine sat upright.
“Dada!” she shouted, leaping off the couch and running over to him. Vincent fell to his knees and caught her. He wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Clemmy…oh, Clemmy,” he muttered, half laughing, half crying. Somehow he knew it really was her. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should have been there for you…shouldn’t have fallen asleep….oh, God…”
Clementine patted his back. “It was a accident, silly.”
Vincent buried his face in her hair and sobbed. He had no idea how long he cried. The only thing that mattered was Clementine’s warm body against his and the sound of her high-pitched voice still fresh in his ears.
After a while, Daniel cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but you could wake up at any moment, and there’s still something I have to tell you.”
It took all of Vincent’s willpower to pull away from his daughter. Unwilling to break contact, he picked her up, cradling her against his chest. “How did you manage this?”
For once, Daniel’s smile held no trace of sarcasm. “I wish I knew. She came to me. I think she’s a dream drifter too, and I think she’s been looking for you.”
All those times I had the recurring nightmare about the morning she died…was that her trying to reach out to me?
Daniel mussed Clementine’s hair. “When she found me, I promised her I’d bring you here so the two of you could say a proper goodbye.”
Vincent squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want her to go.”
“She needs to go back…” Daniel glanced at Clementine. “…back to sleep, and you need to get back to your life. This is no place for her, especially with the war in the dreamscape heating up.”
Clementine tucked her rubber duck, Webster, under her chin and said, “Dada, I’m scared.”
“Me too, Clemmy.”
Daniel gave the rubber duck a big squeeze, and Clementine giggled at the drawn-out squeak that followed. “What did Uncle Danny tell you, huh? I’m going with you, so you won’t be alone. And before you know it, we’ll all wake up, and you’ll see your daddy again.”
“And Mommy too?”
“Yes, Mommy too,” Vincent replied.
“Can I bring Webster?”
Vincent swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure thing, kiddo.”
Seemingly satisfied, Clementine squirmed out of his arms and skipped over to the middle of the living room, where she started dancing to music only she could hear. Watching her filled Vincent with more pain and joy than he thought one person could endure.
To Daniel he said, “Thank you…for this.”
“It was the least I could do.” Daniel was also watching Clementine, who launched into an off-key rendition of “Oh My Darling, Clementine”—a former Cruz Family favorite.
“What about you, Danny?”
“I just told you.” Daniel pulled up his hood, covering his tangled mess of red hair. “I’m going with her.”
“To die? Can’t you just, I don’t know, wake up?”
Daniel’s sigh metamorphosed into a chuckle. “You better believe I tried. But, you know, I got what I had coming. And since I’m not coming back, I’m hoping you could to do a couple of favors for me.”
“Anything,” Vincent promised.
“Mom is going to need you to be there for her when…when I go.” The mischievous smile returned. “I am her favorite son, after all.”
Vincent laughed in spite of himself. “Yeah, sure.”
“That means you have to be nice to her, even though she’s a flawed human being like the rest of us,” Daniel added.
“Can I tell her about you? About…this?”
Scoff. “The woman believes in miracles, but this might be kind of a stretch.”
Across the room, Clementine, holding Webster out in front of her and spinning in circles, sang, “Drovy ducklings in the water, any morning jusset nine.”
“Vincent, I didn’t kill that cop.”
Daniel was looking out the window, where big, puffy snowflakes wafted through the yellow streetlights.
“A week before the shooting, I got busted for carrying,” he said. “To get a lesser sentence, I agreed to help them flush out a bigger fish. I wore a wire…just like on the TV shows…except a million times scarier.”
Daniel took a deep breath. “Somebody fucked up. The next thing I know, bullets are flying, and I get tagged. But I never fired a shot. It’s not like they let me take my piece.”
“Then how did the reporters get it so wrong?” Vincent asked.
Daniel spun around, his eyes blazing. “Because the pricks lied to them! Their little sting operation blew up in their faces. A cop was dead, and a witness in police custody was in a coma. Why not pin it on me?”
“I believe you, but…” Vincent ran a hand through his hair. “A detective told me that the partner of the cop wh
o was shot that day killed himself a week later…that he hadn’t been sleeping well…”
Daniel winced and looked away. “Yeah, that was me. I wanted revenge, and I got it. But it didn’t make anything better.” He sighed. “I truly regret tormenting that man. I was no better than those other jerks who think it’s OK to play God with people’s lives.”
“So you want me to set the record straight about the shooting,” Vincent concluded.
“I don’t give a damn what the public thinks, but there is someone who needs to know the truth…”
Clementine threw Webster in the air and didn’t come close to catching him. The duck bounced off the carpet and settled next to Vincent’s shoe. Her voice climbed to a volume that bordered on yelling.
“Oma darlin’, oma darlin’, oma darlin’, Clementine. You were lost in gone f’rever. Dead for sorry, Clementine.”
Once Daniel finished explaining exactly what he wanted Vincent to do, Vincent pulled him into a bear hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother, Danny. I should’ve been looking after you, not the other way around.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Daniel said. “I know I’m a bastard. Then again, so are you.”
Vincent laughed and wiped away a tear. “So this is it.”
Daniel flashed a lopsided grin. “Yep…unless Suzanne finds a way to bring us back for the sequel.”
Epilogue
Vincent loosened his tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt. He looked around and decided he was, hands down, the best-dressed customer in the diner that morning.
His booth was flanked on one side by three college guys who took turns exchanging enthusiastic recounts of last night’s revelries. By the looks of their breakfast selections, they were attempting to keep hangovers at bay with equal parts caffeine and grease. Behind Vincent sat an unremarkable elderly couple who spoke Russian when they spoke at all. An oldies radio station piped in “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
Thumbing through the oversized, laminated menu, Vincent contemplated ordering the Belgian waffles but decided not to tempt fate. He couldn’t afford to pay the dry cleaning bill if he spilled syrup on his suit.
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