The Dream Catcher's Daughter

by Steven Fox

  “Did the King have help? Besides the guards?”

  “Another Dream Caller. The one who was child of Shemillah’s host. She helped the King defeat Shemillah and capture her. Other than that…”

  “Wait. Hold on a moment. What do you mean Shemillah’s host?”

  “The Dream Caller wanted immortality. But no dream could grant her that. So she jumped from body to body. Usually the body of her offspring. Your grandmother was the last host. Her daughter, your mother, was married to the apprentice of the original Dream Caller.”

  “My father was the Guardian’s apprentice.”

  Gelen perched her brow. “The Guardian? A curious name. But I do believe the original Dream Caller is so old that he has forgotten his birth name. And I think the King did mention something about a guardian.”

  Jason’s heart leapt, and he shook his head. Instead of answers, question upon question continued to crop up. “There must be a weakness. Some way the King had intended to defeat Shemillah.”

  “Shemillah’s not the problem. It’s the nightmare inside her. That was what the King had been plotting for years to defeat.”

  “Nightmare?”

  “The original nightmare, the one that gave birth to all the nightmares ever to exist. It takes the form of a story, as most dreams do. And if the nightmare reaches its end…well…” Gelen threw up her hands. “It matters not, Jason. It bears no importance on the fact that you. Are. The. King.”

  Jason felt like he should disagree, but saw that there would be none of that. He moved past Gelen and plopped down on the bed. He stared at the fire. Just a few feet in front of the fire lay the book Gelen had been reading. He picked it up, and nostalgia panged in his chest. He gripped the book’s edges with both hands as he stared at the cover.

  “Your journal,” said Queen Gelen. “A favorite of mine. My king oh-so loved to write down stories and relate them to me on my whim. His voice just carried you away. As though you were right there, in the middle of the action.” She slipped in beside him, her arms looping around his waist. Her breath steamed across his neck as she spoke: “Would you read a story to me? Read just one line, and we’ll see whether or not you’re the king.”

  But Jason dropped the book. The Queen opened her mouth to speak, but Jason heard nothing. He stood up and walked out of the room. He floated along the corridors of the castle until he came to the gate. Outside, Visonia had melted into a barren wasteland. Black and purple mist hovered close to the ground, only a dozen yards from the castle. There, nightmares sprawled and writhed.

  “It was everywhere, when I first came.”

  Jason looked over his shoulder, and the castle was gone. Now the nightmare mist closed in on him, colliding against him like the Red Sea closing upon the Egyptians. He was swept up in the darkness, in the torment. All around him the nightmares cackled and howled.

  “In the nightmares I wandered. Scared. They tortured and mocked me. I was alone. All because I had let my desire get the best of me.”

  The purple faded to black. Yellow eyes glimmered in the sheer umbra of cold hell. Jason wrapped his arms around his body. He rocked back and forth. There was demonic laughter. Everything smelled and tasted rotten, deceased.

  “But then she found me—the one I’d saved and damned in one breath. Surely, she must hate me. Why would she ever come back for me? But Shemillah came. She came and held me. Kissed me. She gave me hope. And dreams born in hope outshine the darkness of any nightmare. That’s when the castle was created. That’s when Visonia was born.

  “That’s when I, Ole Lukoje, became the King of Dreams.”

  ***

  His arms fell, and his legs and back gave out. Jason and Gelen tumbled to the floor. She wriggled out from underneath him and looked at his face. His breathing was slow, labored She pumped his chest with her palms.

  “Jason! What is wrong?”

  But Jason wasn’t there. His body and soul may have been there, in the castle, but his mind flew back a couple years. He was sitting at the desk in his room. To his right was Tara Engel. They were staring at a computer screen filled with letters, words, and sentences. Just beyond the computer, through the window, Jason could see the apple tree in his backyard.

  Jason smiled at Tara. “Would you like to read it?”

  “I always read,” said Tara. “Why don’t you?”

  “Well, it’s not my story. I’ll read the next story we write.”

  “Sure you want to write more? With me?”

  Jason leaned in and pecked Tara on the neck. A shiver rippled up her back. Tara sat up straight, cleared her throat, and began:

  “Once upon a time, a knight didn’t want to be a knight. On the outside, he looked like a knight, talked like a knight. He dueled swords with King Arthur, and he could scare even the bogeyman with his ruthlessness. But the knight hated this. He only wanted to be kind, to care for all…On the inside, he wasn’t truly a knight.”

  By this time, nearly all of Jason’s body was full of liquid stone. Queen Gelen cried as she pumped his chest.

  “…eventually, they started living together. Years later they had kids, and when the kids asked why their father wrote poetry and their mother wielded the sword, the knight and maiden would smile and say:

  “‘To love yourself, ‘tis the most…important…’” Tara mumbled the last words into Jason’s mouth as their lips locked.

  Gelen’s lips pressed against his. And the electrical shock snapped him back to the castle, away from that warm summer day in his room. The same day Tara would take off her shirt. The same day Tara and Jason would go out on a date to celebrate their first picture book. There just so happened to be a parade in town that same day.

  “Say it!” shouted Queen Gelen. “I heard you say it! Say it louder!”

  Jason jerked up into a sitting position, the word ripping from his throat like a lion’s roar: “FORTH!”

  And as the liquid stone drained, Jason’s limbs shook. He wrapped his arms around himself, and the shaking intensified. Gelen draped a blanket over Jason’s shoulders, smoothing a hand down his back.

  “What’s wrong, Jason? What happened?”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  The voice made Jason freeze. There, in the doorway, clutching E in one hand, stood Shemillah. She smiled. “Now, time to add another to my collection.”

  Her hand—the one wrapped about E’s throat—began to glow. E struggled, kicking her legs as Shemillah’s flesh turned green. Shemillah grew taller, and a slit formed on her stomach. When Shemillah had grown three times her size, her stomach split open, revealing a set of glimmering white teeth. Shemillah lifted E high into the air and the large mouth on Shemillah’s stomach opened wide, a long red tongue rolling out. E scream was cut off as the mouth clamped around her and gulped her down. The large tongue licked Shemillah’s stomach as though it were a pair of lips. The mouth disappeared, and the Dream Caller shrank to her original size.

  She burped, patting her stomach. “Ah, hit the spot! And now I’ve only the queen and Jason McKinney to swallow.”

  Gelen grunted. “Talking as if we are invisible. How rude!” She stood, flinging her right hand out. In a flash of light, an umbrella-shaped sword appeared in her hand.

  Shemillah clucked her tongue. “You think that’s going to stop me? It’ll hardly make a worthy toothpick.”

  “How did you find this place? Furthermore, how did you cross between realms? It is not possible. Not without…”

  “A member of the royal court? Trust me, I know. I had one working for me. Then, when she was useless, I swallowed her. She’s much more useful in my stomach than outside. Like you.”

  Shemillah stepped forward, and pointed a finger at Jason. “I’m going to love having you inside me. You may not know it, but you’re much more valuable than you think. You just don’t know what to do with yourself. But that’s all right. I’ll make good use of you.”

  The Queen thrust forward and impaled Shemillah through the gut. The Dream
Caller jerked, her eyes widening as her flesh turned green. The slit in her stomach started growing into what would become that terrible second mouth. Gelen shoved hard, pushing the sword farther into Shemillah. They both tumbled out into the hallway. Jason ran after them, unsure of what to do. Shemillah was nearly double in size, and appeared to have sprouted four more arms—two to each side—that were grappling with the Queen.

  Gelen looked at Jason. “Do whatever you have to do! Just run!”

  The giant mouth snapped open beneath Gelen. But Jason had already started running. He’d passed the castle gate when Shemillah roared in victory. In hunger.

  TWENTYONE

  Shemillah had been busy on the way to the castle: Hordes of demonic nightmares swarmed the streets. The beasts charged Jason with their horns, screaming words in reverse. But Jason was quick and, most importantly, desperate. He headed for the road, and when it bucked beneath him, Jason took his cue to leap for a nearby alley. The road soared into the sky, catapulting several of the misshapen nightmares through the air.

  Jason stuck to the buildings, avoiding wide-open areas, where the nightmares gathered in great numbers. His path to the train station could have been longer, but as he neared the station, he encountered fewer and fewer nightmares. None were wandering near the station, though Jason did spot a pile of them at the foot of the stairs. He didn’t stop to see if they were dead. The conductor was waiting on the platform, leaning against the train, puffing on another cigarette. He smiled at Jason.

  “Back already? Mighty quick trip.”

  “Shemillah…has the queen. And her guards. She’s coming after me.”

  He took a drag on his cigarette, blowing a ring of smoke up into the air. He contemplated the smoke as it changed from white to black to green to blue to white again, and repeated. He took another drag before dumping the cigarette and crushing it with his heel. “I’ve already detached one of the engine cars. Take it back to Caindom.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  He cracked his knuckles and popped his neck. “I’ve got a little business with a certain stowaway. I can’t even count the number of times that chick’s jumped a free ride on my train. She owes me.” He looked out to the city, and pointed. “I think I see her coming.”

  Walking toward them, normal-looking again, Shemillah waved at Jason and the conductor.

  “Go,” said the conductor. “And remember: Help’s never too far away.” He turned and walked over to the top of the stairs. Jason wheeled around, running for the train, when the conductor called out, “And don’t scratch the paint!”

  Jason ran to the detached engine and jumped in. He’d watched the conductor drive the train, so how hard could it be? He grabbed the lever and gave it a pull. The train jetted off, nearly throwing Jason out of his seat. The countryside of Dreamrealm shot by in a blur of marmalade colors and crystalline lights. As the bright, undulating colors of Dreamrealm faded, everything started squeezing down into a tunnel shape. Jason eased up on the lever, hoping that would slow this beastly engine. He let up fully on the lever. Thanks to momentum, the train trudged on, but grew slower and slower. A light broke up ahead, and as though it were meant to be, the train came to a full stop at the subway. Jason stepped off and breathed deeply of the moldy smell that hung in the air. He felt glad this terrifying place was still here.

  He walked until he reached the rift and passed through. The portal spat him out in the alley next to his house, exactly where he’d left several days before. He glanced around. The sun was still up, about halfway through its horizon-bound journey. He walked toward the mouth of the alley and glanced about. He didn’t see any paladins, though this didn’t mean anything. The invisibility spell was a common spell for enforcers patrolling in broad daylight. Darlene loved it.

  Jason’s chest clenched.

  He hoped Darlene was all right. Besides Len and Trevor, Darlene was all he had left. His father and mother were gone. The realization reduced Jason to his knees. He covered his mouth, muffling the sobs. He pulled himself back into the alley.

  Eventually, he hauled himself up, rubbing his eyes with his wrist. When the tears dried, Jason decided his next move. It was risky, and going off a hunch he’d pieced together over the next few minutes. He thought of the message his father had left him: Anyone who interferes will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. He remembered the conversation well. It had been one of the last shared between them. He bit back another fit of sobbing.

  Then he remembered what Sirin had said: I’d love to meet her in a dark bedroom. And he remembered the paladin’s conversation. Sirin hadn’t been the last person to enter the prison block. He hadn’t been in there all day. Also, Sirin’s eyes were brown, not green.

  Jason edged in the direction of his house. He went around the back way, just in case paladins were patrolling. If they were? Well, he’d run like hell. But hadn’t they already found what they were looking for? They couldn’t burn the McKinney house—that’d look suspicious. At least, until Shemillah rose to complete and utter power. He had a feeling that wouldn’t happen until Jason was in her grasp. She’d said he was important. And he wondered, then, what he had to do with the original nightmare’s end, and what the nightmare’s end was.

  His house came into sight. From the backyard, he couldn’t see anything, and he didn’t hear the telltale rattle of the paladins’ chainmail. Despite the power of their invisibility charms, they weren’t the Guardian; they couldn’t cloak sounds they or their armor made. Jason jogged through the backyard to the back door, which was unlocked. This concerned him, but not all too surprising. His father often left the doors unlocked, usually on accident. And why would the paladins care whether or not others entered? If they’d done their job, as Jason suspected, not a trace of magic would be found here. At least, magic the paladins would easily recognize. That’s what Jason hoped for.

  He moved through the kitchen and into the hallway. He noticed the second door, the door his father always locked, ajar. It was his mother’s room, where they’d found the cloak and wand. He turned and ascended the staircase. The sun had lowered in the sky, shooting amber rays through his bedroom window, across Jason’s desk and bed. He took in how bare his room looked. He hadn’t noticed it much during the past week, but now it seemed impossible to miss. He looked to his desk. One thing missing was his old computer. It had stopped working after Jason smashed it against the floor. Next was the second chair; he’d taken it out back and demolished it with a hammer. The only thing that stopped him from destroying his bed was his father. What was stopping Jason now?

  The memory.

  Tara was sitting on the bed, her Ozzy Osbourne shirt and black lace bra in a pile on the floor near her feet. She didn’t cover her chest at all. Only smiled at Jason. Told him to come here. They kissed, Jason’s fingers skimming Tara’s sides and curling against her hips. Then they crept up her shoulder and trailed her arms. Jason and Tara fell onto the bed, kissing. A few moments later Tara sat them both up. She grinned at Jason, her face burning red.

  “Do you love me?” she said.

  “Yes, I love you.”

  “No matter what?”

  Jason nodded, lifting one of her hands to his lips. Then Tara grabbed one of Jason’s hands and slowly led it toward her crotch. His heart pounded in his chest. His breathing had nearly stopped. Only a few inches away, Tara halted, and glanced up at him.

  “Then can we wait? Make it special?”

  Jason was ready to go. But he truly did love Tara, so he agreed. Instead they made out for a few more minutes before Tara replaced her shirt. They went on a date, to a parade in town.

  Jason shook his head. His bed was empty. No bra or shirt on the floor.

  “Forth,” he whispered.

  Jason plopped down on the bed. And he felt something brush against his leg. There, between his feet, lay a tiny dream catcher. Jason grinned as he lifted it to his face. The dream catcher was decorated with feathers and red, white, and green thread. Sever
al beads hung off strands of leather tied to the bottom. Jason wondered where it came from, and brushed it with his fingers. The dream catcher hummed, and light erupted from its center. Jason tossed it away and shielded his eyes. The light burned and there was an earsplitting crack. The light faded, and tentatively, Jason peeked around his arms, and then dropped them altogether. He rose to his feet, still staring. The girl standing in the doorway looked at him and smiled.

  “Yo, Jiggy. What happened? How’d I get here?” said Darlene.

  TWENTYTWO

  Darlene’s eyes were wide, her hands up in the air as Jason wrapped his arms around her. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck. Slowly, Darlene returned his hug. They stayed like that for a few moments. Silent, save for Jason’s hiccups.

  When Jason pulled away, he looked Darlene in the face. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “I couldn’t tell.” But she smiled back, patting Jason on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Jiggy. Just warn me next time.”

  “No promises.”

  They shared a laugh. And it passed all-too-quickly. “How did you get here?” said Jason, leading Darlene to his bed. While she sat, he walked to his chair and pulled it over.

  Darlene rubbed her forehead. Her eyes searched the floor. Then they alit with remembrance, and one of her hands dove into her pants pocket. She fished out her cell phone and showed it to Jason. “You know how the Guardian programmed those spells into my phone? Well, your father knew they were there. Your father told me to activate one of the spells. Told me to think of your room. I asked why, but he told me just to hurry.” She crossed her arms. “It’s like he knew something bad was going to happen…Wait, that’s right! Something bad was happening!”