In the Dark of Dreams

by Marjorie M. Liu

  “Sajeev.” He gave her a sly grin and smoothed his hand over his bald head. The dragon tattoo seemed to flex beneath his fingers. “Old women are powerful, yes? Powerful and deadly.”

  A chill touched her. “You’re not A Priori. Are you Dirk & Steele?”

  Consortium? she almost asked.

  But he didn’t answer. All he did was smile and sidle back into the shadows, out of sight from even her improved eyes.

  Jenny fought down a shudder and tried not to run down the corridor toward the light.

  Topside, she had to shield her eyes. It looked like morning, the sun only a quarter over the horizon, and blazing white in the blue sky. A sultry breeze touched her face. No land, no other boats in sight.

  Perrin stood barefoot on deck, his back to her. He was dressed only in swim trunks. He wore wraparound sunglasses, and his long silver hair had been tied at the nape of his neck. Jenny glimpsed scars there, a thin trail of them leading up into his scalp. She had seen them before, in the water, but now had a terrible sense of what had caused them. His mouth was slanted into a frown, his massive arms folded over his broad chest.

  Rik stood in front of him, wearing cutoff jeans. He looked angry. He wasn’t as tall as Perrin, but big enough—lean, bronze. Bruised and cut. Jenny had seen his file.

  The Consortium had kidnapped Rik, along with another shape-shifter and several members of Dirk & Steele—taking them to a facility in far eastern Russia. All of them had been tortured, experimented on. A Priori had been planning a raid of the facility, but Rik and those others had escaped by then.

  Your friends killed my uncle’s wife, she thought, watching Rik with satisfaction. May Beatrix Weave burn in hell.

  Perrin’s head tilted slightly, as though he knew she was behind him. Rik glanced at her. “Finally.”

  “Leave her out of this,” Perrin said. His voice was quiet, but in a deadly sort of way that made the hairs stand on the back of her neck. Eddie, who had been leaning against the rail, pushed off and straightened.

  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” said Rik. “But if it can be done, I don’t see that we have a choice.”

  Jenny frowned. “What’s going on here?”

  “The thing on the back of your neck—” Rik began, but Perrin shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I’ll kill you first.”

  “Yeah, you would,” Rik shot back. “You’re good at that.”

  Perrin took a step toward him, and she was suddenly reminded just how big he really was. Almost seven feet of raw muscle and bone. Huge. Every inch of him pissed off.

  Jenny made a small sound of protest. Eddie was suddenly at her side, a gentle hand on her elbow that disappeared as soon as she pulled away.

  “Don’t,” he whispered to her, his gaze dark as he watched Rik and Perrin stare each other down. “I don’t know what’s between them, but better it gets out now.”

  “You sure about that?” Jenny muttered. “What was Rik talking about?”

  Eddie gave her a speculative look. “Perrin should tell you. But I’ll be honest, ma’am . . . I don’t like the fact that you know who we are but we don’t know you. I have an idea who you work for, but that doesn’t make it any better.”

  “Talk to Roland,” she replied.

  “I did,” he said, voice strained. “He hung up on me.”

  Jenny’s mouth ticked up into a grim smile, and that hurt her face. “You have a phone? Radio?”

  “Satellite cell,” Eddie began, but Perrin moved again, swaying toward Rik with deadly grace. Rik did not retreat, but his face hardened until everything about him that was young and soft withered into anger.

  “Why are you here?” Perrin asked him. “Why did you bother? You’d be happy to see me die.”

  A nasty smile flitted around Rik’s mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”

  Perrin shifted on his feet. Jenny moved, too—circling so that she could see his face better. Eddie moved with her, giving her an uncertain look, but she ignored him. She wished she could see Perrin’s eyes behind the sunglasses. His jaw was rigid, shoulders tense.

  “She’s dead, you know,” Perrin said, with deceptive gentleness. “That was never a lie. I hope . . . I hope you don’t think you’re going to find her.”

  Jenny didn’t know who “she” was, but the hammer hit true. Rik’s entire body hitched, as though a hook was caught between his shoulders. Grief shimmered in his eyes. Hollow, aching pain.

  Then, nothing. Swallowed up. But he looked older than he should have, old and hard and tired. So did Perrin, what little she could see of his face.

  The parasite twitched. Jenny’s vision shimmered. She found herself looking at Rik from a different angle: taller, standing directly in front of him, the world tinted brown from sunglass lenses.

  Terrible regret slammed into her—I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it was out of my hands, done before I could stop them, and there was no fixing that, no forgiveness—and she would have gasped from the onslaught, but she had no mouth, no body, she was nothing but a wisp riding behind someone else’s eyes—

  —until, suddenly, it was her eyes again, and the only mind she heard was her own.

  Perrin swayed, touching his brow. So did Jenny. Eddie held her elbow, murmuring words she couldn’t hear above the roar in her ears.

  She had been in Perrin’s head. Right there at the front of his thoughts.

  Something else slid inside her mind: that dry parasitic voice, as much a part of her as a needle jabbing into her body.

  He was never like the others, it whispered. Not like those who came before, or after, or those who surrounded us in the endless dark. We remember. We remember everything.

  You were part of us. They blamed him for that.

  “Ma’am,” Eddie murmured.

  “I’m fine,” Jenny told him, straightening. But that was a lie.

  She sensed a wall inside her head. New. Strange. There was no way to describe it except that it felt like a forgotten dream: specifically, the block preventing the memory of a dream. Except there was no memory. Just Perrin on the other side, his presence like a battering storm howling outside a window.

  And deeper, closer, the parasite: resting in the shadows, with the same sensation and weight of a nagging thought.

  Perrin watched her, with a frown still touching his brow. Made her wonder if he had been in her head, too—or if he had felt her hitching a ride behind his eyes. His regret and despair continued to echo through her, but looking at him . . . He hid his feelings so well. She had experienced his emotions for only a moment, and they curled around her heart like a fist.

  Jenny didn’t remember moving, but suddenly she was at his side, clutching his arm, needing to show him that he wasn’t alone. He flinched when she touched him, and she drew back, frowning—then set her jaw and touched him again. He gave her a long look, sunglasses making him inscrutable—but his hand was gentle when it finally wrapped around hers. Tension drained from his shoulders.

  Perrin glanced at Rik. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you were exiled for nothing more than loving her. I’m sorry she was sent away. I’m sorry she died.”

  Jenny was pretty certain the shape-shifter didn’t give a shit. He looked tired, and his eyes were hollow. “You’re still going to die. You and the woman.”

  Perrin took a step, and Rik moved forward to meet him. Jenny hauled backward on his arm—then slid between them. Hands on his chest, pushing him. Perrin stared over her head at Rik.

  “Broken,” Rik said, voice hard, brittle. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you. See how worthless you are and just . . . throw you away like they did the first time.”

  Jenny whipped around to face the shape-shifter. Perrin grabbed her arms and held her still again
st his chest. Tension rolled through her—or maybe that was him. She didn’t trust that all her emotions were hers alone: something heavy pressed on the edges of her mind and heart, a presence that was not the parasite.

  She opened herself to it, just a little—and suffered a slam of boiling rage, frustration. Helpless regret.

  “Say whatever you want,” Perrin whispered. “I didn’t kill Surinia. I didn’t break the two of you apart.”

  “You found out. You told. What the fuck did you think would happen?”

  Perrin pushed Jenny out of his way, firm but gentle. Dangerously deliberate. Eddie stepped close, shielding her. Not that distance helped. Part of her was still lost inside Perrin.

  “Not that,” he said softly. “I never dreamed any harm would come to Surinia. I was concerned. You were both so young, not even sixteen years, and she was a candidate for a kra’a. One of the best we had. When I saw where it was going with the two of you, I had to say something. For both your sakes. You didn’t understand—”

  Rik lunged at him. Perrin let the shape-shifter land a solid blow on his face before whipping down with his own fists, striking him hard and fast across the contusions in his chest. Rik grunted, staggering. Perrin punched him one more time, in the gut. Jenny knew he didn’t use all his strength. He didn’t need to. Rik was already hurting. Whatever had been done to him earlier had whipped him well and good.

  Rik bent over, holding his stomach. Eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed together, breathing hard through his nose. “I hate you. When I saw you, back in San Francisco, it was a nightmare.”

  “I know,” Perrin said.

  Rik cracked open one eye and peered at him. “You don’t know what happened to me after I was sent away.”

  “Everyone suffers. If I learned anything from living amongst humans, it’s that.” Perrin looked at Jenny. “You okay?”

  She nodded, flush with his concern for her. She could feel it trembling against the wall inside her mind. That, and disgrace that he had been violent in her presence. He hated himself for his temper, for how he used his fists, a curling disgust tempered with a desperate need–

  —to protect you, shelter you, keep you safe—

  Jenny closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her head. Warmth surrounded her, deeper and cleaner than the tropic ocean air. Perrin’s deep voice rumbled, “You should lie down again.”

  “No time,” she murmured. “Tell me what you were fighting about before I showed up.”

  His mind went quiet—or the wall strengthened. She lost the tickle of his presence inside her head, a loss both soothing and disquieting.

  Rik straightened slowly, still holding his stomach. “I told him he should remove the kra’a from your head.”

  Perrin made an ugly sound: part fury, part disgust. “It’s too dangerous. But I don’t think you care about that. If she dies, you win. You think it’ll punish me.”

  “You’re an idiot. This isn’t about you.”

  “Enough.” Eddie stepped between both men, giving them a long, measuring stare that held a surprising amount of ruthlessness. Heat rolled off him in throbbing waves. Behind him, Sajeev appeared, and just as quickly slipped away.

  “Enough,” Eddie said again, quieter, and looked at Perrin. “The earthquakes are happening more frequently, with increasing strength. Several tsunamis have hit the region, but there was enough warning for people to reach a safe distance from the coast. According to you, though, when the big one hits . . .”

  “A simple evacuation won’t be enough,” Perrin said.

  Eddie hesitated. “I won’t presume to understand what’s causing this. I’ve seen strange things. I can do strange things. But this . . . is beyond me. Doesn’t mean I don’t believe it, though. And Rik . . . Rik has filled me in on what you used to be. It was your job, once, to control this thing that’s waking in the sea.”

  Perrin’s mouth twisted. “I’ll have to assume you got the full truth.”

  Rik looked away, rubbing his knuckles—golden light spreading briefly over his hands. “It can still be stopped.”

  “Not for that price,” Perrin whispered.

  Jenny stared. “If you had the kra’a—”

  He whipped around, blocking her from the others—forcing her to retreat until the rail pressed against her back. He leaned forward, arms braced on either side of her. Huge man. Jenny shoved her fingers into his chest. “If you can stop this—”

  “Not at the expense of your life.” His hand curled around hers, engulfing it completely. Muscles ticked in his face, every straining inch of him so tense he was practically shaking. Emotions, she remembered. Perrin hid strong emotions so well. But if he was showing this much, if his control was so frayed . . .

  Jenny covered his hand with hers, wishing she could see his eyes. A terrible ache built inside her, a swell of tenderness or compassion, love—she didn’t know what to call it—just that it made her voice low and thick, her knees gangly like she was that twelve-year-old girl again, seeing magic.

  “We’re on the beach,” she whispered to him. “Just you and me.”

  No one else would have understood. But Perrin sucked in his breath and went very still. In that stillness, in that perfect quiet, Jenny remembered they had an audience. She didn’t see Rik, but Eddie hovered within reaching distance, watching them with open concern.

  Afraid for her, she realized. Afraid Perrin would hurt her.

  Slowly, deliberately, she pushed away from the rail and leaned in hard against Perrin’s chest, pressing her cheek against his hot skin, wrapping her arm around his waist. His breathing hitched again, then—gently, tenderly—he hugged her against him, curling around her body with heartbreaking, trembling need.

  Jenny held Eddie’s gaze the entire time.

  He was a smart young man. Color touched his cheeks, but his gaze remained thoughtful, assessing. Finally, he gave her a single nod and backed away, out of sight.

  “Jenny,” Perrin said, his voice low, barely a rumble. “I refuse to lose you.”

  Behind him, she heard a strangled sound—not laughter, not a sob, but something gut-wrenching and frightening. Eddie murmured a low word, and Rik said, “You’ll lose her. You’ll lose her to the wave and what follows. You’ll lose her to your people when they come to carve the kra’a from her head. You’ll lose her when they kill you for coming back to the sea.”

  Rik moved into sight. Eddie had one hand clamped on his shoulder, his mouth tight with displeasure. But that didn’t stop the shape-shifter, who looked Jenny dead in the eyes, and said, “You don’t understand what’s coming.”

  Jenny stared at him, and a short quiet laugh escaped her. Perrin tried to turn her away from Rik; but she twisted out of his arms and walked to the young man. Self-pity was written all over him. Defiance, too. Anger.

  But she smiled at him, and some of the ugliness seemed to hiccup in his face. Rik suddenly looked at her like she might bite, and, for a moment, Jenny wanted to.

  We remember him, whispered the parasite, and behind her eyes she glimpsed a golden-eyed dolphin swimming lazy circles around a merwoman with long silver hair, her sharp lovely face tilted upward toward a ray of light streaming through the water. When she laughed, it sounded like bubbles made of crystal bursting, and when she touched the dolphin with long, delicate fingers, she made it look like a dance.

  Then, nothing. Jenny blinked. Rik stood before her, and the sun was shining and hot. She was not in the sea, but in a boat, and her body was human. She had to remind herself of that.

  A lot of things have happened to me that I don’t have a fucking clue how to understand, she wanted to tell Rik. Take your shit and shove it. You think you’re the only one who has watched someone you love die?

  But the words turned to ash on her tongue.

  “You’re right,” she said instead. “I don
’t understand.”

  Rik stared, and that emotional hiccup happened again in his golden eyes, an involuntary twitch of anger and grief, and terrible loneliness.

  The kid was so lonely. Plain as day. She knew friends surrounded him—the files on the men and women at Dirk & Steele were extensive—but there was a difference between paper and life, and the young man in front of her had been hurting so long and deep, she wondered if he would ever be able to let go of his pain.

  Jenny sure as hell hadn’t.

  Rik tore his gaze from her and looked down at his hands. Human hands: bronze skin, strong fingers. Eddie watched him worriedly. Perrin drew near, looming over them all. Jenny felt him inside her, behind the wall. His presence was the same as some vague memory of a dream—a pressure on the edge of her mind, filled with impressions. Quiet, now. Contemplative.

  “When the Kraken wakes,” Rik said softly, “it’s going to break the fuck out of the earth. You know what kind of wave that will make, Perrin. And then it’s going to go looking for a mate. The closest nest is near Hawaii.”

  “There’s no female there,” Perrin replied, voice hollow.

  “Then they’ll fight. And that’ll cause more destruction. The survivor will go looking for another nest. And if there’s no female there . . .”

  Jenny swallowed hard. “There’s no other kra’a?”

  “A kra’a is attuned only to the Kraken that it came from,” Perrin said, with particular heaviness. “It’s the conduit between the minds of the Guardian, and beast.”

  “And there’s only one,” she murmured. “How did Les get to your cousin? Someone that important—”

  “It should have been difficult to kill her.” Perrin hesitated. “It must have been planned, very carefully. She would have trusted A’lesander.”

  And the kra’a? Did she trust that, too? Jenny wondered silently, hit with strange “doubt. Did the kra’a also want her dead so that it could be free?

  No, answered that dry voice inside her head. But we did not object to the opportunity when it arrived. Pelena understood. We told her as much, before we left her body.