I spent the next few hours taking care of domestic chores. The kid needed feeding, and I took the groceries off of Becky and used them to whip up a mean risotto bianco. It’s my go-to dish, and I didn’t even get a grumble out of my sister-in-law while she ate. I put Olivia down for a nap, made some fairly fruitless calls about the insurance claims, and gave the cable company a call. By around three in the afternoon, I had done all of the busywork that I could and wandered out to the miniscule back yard to talk to Becky. The grass was mostly dead, and the bushes had last been trimmed at some point during the Jurassic, but somehow she’d found time to put up a hammock. I found her swinging there, wrapped up in a blanket against the fall chill and sipping on a premixed margarita.
“You know that if I were back in Florida, it’d still be in the 80s and I’d be sunning myself on the beach. Instead, I’m here with you but trying my best to pretend otherwise.”
“Funny, I’m trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else too, Becks.”
She scowled at the nickname. “Grow up, Julian. I’m serious. You have to grow up. This is coming from me. You have a daughter, and she needs you, but instead you’re running all over the city. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, but I can’t stay here forever. I took the whole semester off when Dana…” She trailed off and took another drink before continuing. “I am going to go back to school in the winter. Even I know that there aren’t actually any jobs out there for a media relations major. I’m going to need some tuition money, but I’m not earning anything while I’m here. Dana had promised to help me…Mom and Dad didn’t come because they couldn’t afford it. They didn’t want her telling you, but the credit crunch pretty much wiped them out.” Dana hadn’t mentioned any of this to me, but it did seem plausible. Her parents had both been real estate agents; I knew that the economy had been pretty brutal, but I had assumed that they had something stashed away.
“Becky, I’m not just messing around. I’m working on something very important. I think I might have a lead on some people that can tell me what happened to Dana. I’ll try to help you as much as I can if any of the insurance money comes through, but until then I’m just about tapped out. I’ll get paid at the end of the week, but I’ve honestly only got about a thousand pounds to my name until then.” I tried to look her in the eyes, but they were hidden behind large aviator sunglasses, and I couldn’t read her expression. As much as I struggled to imagine a Becky DuCaine that I could trust with serious responsibility, I did trust her to care for Olivia, at least more than the nursery staff. I couldn’t afford to lose her support if I was going to have any chance at seizing the thin thread of possibility that might lead back to my wife.
“I’m here for her. I still don’t believe the cock-and-bull story about a bogey man you came up with. Mom and Dad thought that Dana’s disappearance probably had something to do with gangsters or gambling debts because they just don’t understand what it is you do for a living. I laughed at them, but now that I’ve been here, I’m not so sure that they’re wrong. I’ve seen you beaten and passed-out drunk, and I’ve been kidnapped by a woman who implied that you were involved in Dana’s disappearance. The only reason I’m not gone already is because I need money that badly, trust my big sister’s judgment, and can’t imagine abandoning that sweet little girl to you. I’m not here to make your life easier.” It was the longest and bitterest thing I’d ever heard from Becky.
“Becky, I know you’re having trouble—”
“No, Julian, give me money, give me the truth, or give me my sister back.” Her reply was final, and I swallowed. I was already trying my best to get Dana back, she’d never believe the truth of where her sister really was, and I was broke. If I needed her help looking after Olivia, then I’d have to find some way to get it. I’d worked in a procurement team for years, so I knew how to get what I wanted. I could start out by putting together a negotiation plan: first, I’d write up the acceptable solution space and then…oh, screw that.
“Ten thousand dollars if you’ll stick around, watch Olivia, and generally carry your weight around here for the next three months. I’ll pay you when the insurance money comes in,” I said. I honestly had too many headaches that I couldn’t get a handle on. If there was one that I could solve just by throwing a promise of money at it, then I would.
“That’ll do. Obviously, you’ll also be providing room and board. I want some cable TV too,” she replied, taking a generous sip out of the margarita. Where had she gotten that from, anyhow? I shrugged and went inside to put together flat-pack furniture, and I snuck an icepack out of the fridge, intending to apply it to my throbbing nose so that I could avoid a pair of black eyes.
Chapter 13 2200–2400, Wednesday, September 30, 2015
I opened my eyes. The gray of twilight blanketed the scene. I swiveled my head around, spotting a park bench. Surprisingly, I recognized my surroundings. Things were a bit distorted where the dreamer hadn’t paid enough attention to detail, but the playground in the distance and the animal paddocks left me sure that I had appeared in the Brent Lodge Park Animal Centre, better known to residents of West London as the “Bunny Park.” Before my—our—house had burned down, the park had been just around the corner, and some of my happiest memories were of spending the afternoon there, looking at the small zoo, grabbing an ice cream, or visiting the butterfly house.
Speaking of which, butterflies danced in my stomach, and after a few seconds I realized that the unfamiliar feeling was…hope. After assembling some flat-pack furniture, I’d shambled off to bed a bit early, but before dropping off to sleep I’d decided to try out an idea. I hadn’t been able to bring Dana to me, and I hadn’t been able to go to a specific person’s dreams so far without a close physical connection. But what if I could bring myself to a specific place? If I could and if I found out where Dana was, then I could go there and rescue her. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something, and there was no way that the Anarchist’s threats were going to stop me from looking for my wife.
I’d spent an hour or so pondering the notion while trying to figure out where panel J15 of my new wardrobe had disappeared to. In the end, I’d decided that I should start with somewhere familiar, so I’d assembled (pardon the pun) the items to make a connection. I’d started by trying to find a picture of our house, but I couldn’t locate any that captured the whole thing. In the end, I’d settled for tucking both a Facebook photo of Dana carrying Olivia into the house after a trip to see the butterflies at the local park and an image of Google maps set to our old address under my pillow. With those items in place, I’d gone to sleep, focusing on where I wanted to be.
And I’d ended up at the Bunny Park.
Where a man was screaming.
I hesitated and tried to ignore the shouts. Helping this guy out wasn’t going to get me Dana back. My test had been successful(ish), and I could use the time I had in the Dreamscape to consider how I might effectively put this new skill into action. Maybe I could retry some of the summonings that I’d tried before.
The scream came again. Oh, hell. I couldn’t ignore it.
I took off running, moving faster than panic through a crowded room at the cry of “Fire”.
I concentrated briefly to zero in on the direction of the dreamer and instantly felt their mind radiating out into the Dreamscape. It was as unmistakable as feeling the sun on your cheek on a summer’s day, and I knew that they were about one hundred yards in front of me; even before arriving, I was sure about where they’d be.
The hedge maze had been planted to celebrate the millennium, and the yew trees that made it up were already tall enough that Olivia was scared to go in there by herself. As I arrived, the sound of crashing underbrush told me that I had been right. I dredged up the memory of sneaking onto a bouncy castle at one of Ollie’s friend’s birthday parties, and vaulted into the air, soaring at least ten feet and getting a good view over the trees. Another shriek tore the air at the same time that I did. That’s when I spotted the crea
ture.
My blood ran cold as the scene sharpened enough for me to recognize things. The shadow in front of me was smaller than when I had last seen it, but the red, glowing eyes were unmistakable. I’d banished it and lost my wife in the process. Yet somehow, the puca was back.
“DIE!” I screamed and poured hatred toward it, a streak of green light issuing from my hands and striking the demon in the back. There was a verdant flash, the creature screeched, and half a dozen trees burst into flame. Flashes of color pulsed in front of my eyes, dazzling me as I arced downward, so I couldn’t actually see the result of my attack. I landed awkwardly, rolled ass over tip, and came to rest halfway up a bush. A two-thumbs-up landing—for me.
Shaking my head to clear it, I struggled back to my feet, still half blind. I could hear something crashing through the brush toward me. I ducked down and put my back to the bushes as I called up a childhood memory: me at age fifteen, hunting in the woods, covered in camouflage as a deer walked past. In the shadow-filled park, no one would notice me if I stayed reasonably still; with my memory wrapped around me, I could set off a road flare and go unnoticed. The noise got closer. I’d thrown my best punch, and it sounded like the alien thing was still coming. My guts turned to water. I held my ground and unsheathed my gladius.
The trees just in front of me were moving. I braced myself. It was here.
“Adler, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?” The voice was unmistakable but trembled with fear, and I remembered the screams I’d heard on my way to the maze.
“Detective Badger?” My mouth hung open in surprise. Detective Inspector James Badger was the dreamer here? What were the odds of that, and how in the world had he spotted me through the obfuscation that I’d deployed?
“Close your mouth, boy, and let’s go see whether or not your little fireworks display managed to make a dent in that beastie,” he commanded, the strain of mastering his fear showing as he clipped each word. The short, round man waddled forward as the newly risen moon glinted off of his Coke-bottle lenses. It also glinted off of the Heckler and Koch MP-5 9mm automatic rifle that he carried with the ease of long experience. I followed.
My heart pounded as we edged toward the spot a few dozen yards away where the last few spots of supernatural fire were still smoldering greenly in the hedges. There was a hole in the bush in front of us, and I could hear gravel crunching as something heavy shifted on the other side. I dropped into a fighting crouch, paused, and glanced over toward James Badger. The little man’s chest puffed out, and he gave a small nod. For just a moment, the thick glasses disappeared, his hair changed from gray to brown, and his beer gut receded as I saw the detective the way he saw himself at this moment: the years falling away. I wondered how many enemy combatants had gotten the same view in their last moments. We charged.
The chattering of Badger’s gun tore the night apart as the muzzle traced a line through the air. The dark shadow of my foe loomed over us, but I could only discern a pair of glowing eyes. Bullets thudded into the creature; it shivered and wanly waved an inky pseudopod in our direction. I ducked, and Badger jumped over the tip, his form once again resembling the one that I was accustomed to but still displaying the athleticism of a man half his age.
Landing, I rolled forward and struck with my sword, picturing my last trip to our local sushi house. The gladius sheared through the tentacular appendage with ease as I shaped the outcome to my will. That’s how I knew that the monster in front of me was a fake.
I’m not saying that it was some kind of facsimile created to trick me, but the real puca had been a master of the Dreamscape, and nothing less than an all-out assault on my part had ever put a dent in the alien thing. Now the puzzle pieces clicked, and I knew that what I was seeing was nothing more than an echo or ghost of the creature, haunting the mind of one of the few people that had been around to see its last moments on our plane of existence. I jumped back out of the way of a lackadaisical follow-up swipe from another limb just as Badger’s thirty-round stick magazine came to an end when the gun clicked on an empty chamber. I took that as my cue to end this little play.
“Sir, you keep it distracted, and I’ll banish it again. Like I did at the hospital,” I shouted as the puca hissed and burbled its way toward us. Badger nodded and pulled a 9mm Beretta out of a shoulder holster. What kind of hard-on did this guy have for small-caliber firearms? Shots started to crack out of the weapon. I hesitated.
Since escaping from the puca’s pocket dimension, I had shied away from opening a hole in the Dreamscape to the strange nothingness that existed behind reality. There’d been a time that I’d done that without thinking, casting any old nightmare into oblivion. Now I was afraid of what might happen to Dana if I threw something in. Or of what might try to come out.
I swallowed. Detective Badger was another victim of my thoughtless and cavalier attitude. I’d done what I’d thought I’d had to in battling my nemesis, and I still thought that the ends justified the means, but besides my wife’s disappearance, my actions had left half a dozen cops dead and even more scarred. Life is about choosing between doing nothing and doing the best that you know how, and sometimes even your best isn’t good enough. The measure of a man is whether he is willing to grip the jagged shards of those failures and use them to strike out at his enemies.
I walked, dragging my sword along the ground, and in less than thirty seconds I’d cut a hole in the Dreamscape. I took a deep breath, casually ducked the swipe of an inky-black tentacle and, with a final step, used my gladius to sever the last few inches of dream-stuff. Immediately, a gaping hole into oblivion yawned out below me. The nightmare-puca, likely fueled by the detective’s memory of the original event, managed to make a halfhearted attempt to hold on to its existence.
“Shoot the eyes out!” I yelled to the dreaming man. Actually, this line was utter bullshit, but in this place if I could make him believe that that would be effective, then it would be.
“Die, you bastard thing!” The bellow of triumph that poured from Badger shook the bushes, and his face twisted into a savage grin, displaying none of the cultured control that I’d learned to expect. I stepped back and watched as he stomped forward like the victorious gunslinger in an old western, pumping round after round through each dimly glowing eye. There was a final shriek, a wan echo of the earsplitting assaults that the real thing had been capable of, and then the creature was gone. I walked over to Badger, and he laid a hand on my arm. The fear that I’d seen when I first arrived was gone, and he seemed at peace as he turned toward me.
“Son, I’ve never lost someone the way that you did, but I have lost men in combat. Please believe me when I say that it is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.” The detective’s arm landed on my shoulder, and I felt a wave of resolve wash over me, straightening my back as I nodded in agreement. I was about to say something corny in return, probably about never giving up and never surrendering, but that was exactly the moment a golden blur of motion burst out of the portal to oblivion.
I had only the split-second warning of DI Badger’s eyes going wide to tell me that something was wrong. With years of experience behind me, it was just enough to avoid being smashed flat, and as I dove to the side, a tree-trunk-thick appendage clipped my side and sent me spinning. I lost track of Badger as I whirled through the air, but I kept enough of my wits about to focus on my recollection of a recent visit to the local leisure center. I landed with a splash in a suddenly apparating pool of water. Somewhere to my right, I heard the crack of a pistol and then a muffled scream that cut off disturbingly. I pulled my sword and ran in that direction, dirt and twigs flying as I covered the distance faster than Rainbow Dash in a fly-off. (Maybe I’d been watching too much TV with Olivia.)
I had used a lot of juice on my initial attack against the fake puca, and I regretted it as I got back to my feet and saw what was coming through the portal that I’d torn in the Dreamscape. So far, all that had managed to claw its way out of it
s prison were a pair of long tentacles. One thick, golden appendage flailed wildly, looking for something to hold on to, while another hugged the edge of the hole, and one gargantuan red eye, glowing like a ruby illuminated by hatred, swung from side to side. Badger lay on the ground, dead or unconscious—I couldn’t be sure.
I tried to think of some clever way to combat the creature. Nope. Nothing. I charged, covering the distance in improbably long bounds as I yelled my traditional, eloquent battle cry.
“Shit!”
I couldn’t see enough of the nightmare to tell what it was, but I shuddered to consider the size of the horror trying to invade James Badger’s dream. The hole that I had made was nearly fifty feet around, and only two small parts of the thing could fit through at once. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to act. A quick final lunge brought me into striking distance, and I reused the sushi house memory. This time, maybe due to exhaustion, my short sword only sank about three inches into the eight- or nine-foot-thick tentacle, causing a thin trickle of shining silver ichor to briefly ooze from the cut. A twitch ripped the sword out of my hand, and I used a sharp burst of will to bound into the air, trench coat billowing around me as I leapt a wall of yew trees.
My heart sank as I realized how ineffective I’d been against whatever this was, and I groaned as the ground shuddered when a third mass of golden flesh thumped down on the ground next to me, effortlessly flattening a tree. I was able to take a measure of solace in the fact that the Dreamscape wasn’t breaking down. If Badger really had been killed, then I would have expected the landscape to break down in the same way that it had when the banker had perished a few days earlier.
That’s when I had a terrible idea. Whatever this thing was, I couldn’t allow it to escape from the nothingness and enter people’s dreams. One way I could stop that would be to shoot Detective Badger. The idea was awful, I didn’t know whether it would wake him up or end his life, but one vicious part of me thought it felt righteous—Badger may have admitted that he had been wrong about me, but his suspicion had made my life infinitely harder when I’d been trying to stop the witches from OMG.
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