by Gareth Otton
He stretched out his right arm, groaning as he pulled at the barely healed wounds and stretched muscles that were not ready to be used so quickly. She saw the light of the healing dreamcatcher on his shoulder, and the much larger one on his back, flare for a second before he thought better of it and let those tattoos rest. The second, larger tattoo was the reason for his rapid recovery. Despite her protests, Kuruk had been pushing the first tattoo to the point of burnout and she was genuinely afraid he’d end up having to deal with this injury without the aid of the dreamcatcher, putting him at serious risk of permanent impairment. So they’d returned to Dream, rearmed themselves with new tattoos, and made healing a bigger priority.
Even then he’d pushed the limits of her creations, and only the thought of ruining so much skin that couldn’t be tattooed again kept him from pushing it harder. The ruins of the last tattoo on his chest, now a mass of scar tissue that looked like someone had taken a blowtorch to him, would not heal as cleanly as his arm. Mitena suspected it had something to do with the nature of the damage, as Dream caused it another dream couldn’t fix it. Whatever the reason, Kuruk had a large patch of his chest that wouldn’t take another dreamcatcher, and with so much of his upper body covered in the things, he didn’t have much room for replacements.
They stayed that way for a while, brother watching the skies and sister watching him. That stillness was broken as Kuruk sighed and turned to face her. When he met her eye, his peaceful expression vanished and he huffed in frustration. A frown wrinkled his brow, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his fingers curled into fists at his side.
For the first time in her life, he scared Mitena.
“Why are you still here?” he demanded. “I thought you’d said your peace and gone.”
“I was waiting for you,” she explained, which triggered laughter in response.
“Why? There was no need for that. It’s not like I’m in danger anymore.”
Mitena wanted to cry, but fought that urge, knowing it would just frustrate Kuruk even more.
“I wanted to finish our conversation—” was all she said before he threw up his arms and huffed again, more explosively this time.
“What is it with you? I can’t win, no matter what I do? This was your idea , but no matter how we do it, you’re always on my back. I challenge them to a fight, and I’m taking too many risks. I slaughter them like animals, and I’m not showing enough humanity. I listen to you and use your methods of combining the tattoos with the painted dreamcatchers, not just relying on one, and now we’re killing too fast. I can’t win.”
“This is the third kill of the week, there’s no reason we couldn’t take a break,” Mitena argued, the same argument they’d had before Kuruk started tonight’s task and relegated her to waiting outside for him to finish.
“Make up your mind. You don’t like it when I kill them slow, you don’t like it when I kill them fast. What is it with you?”
“You’re enjoying this too much. This is supposed to be grisly work that we’re forced to do because no one else can.”
“Really? That’s what this is about. Grow up, Mitena. Just because I take pride in a job well done, don’t make out like I’m a monster. We’re doing good, remember. We’re making the world safer for people like Lucy who—”
“Lucy wouldn’t recognise you anymore,” she snapped. “She’d be ashamed of you.”
All warmth left her brother’s face in an instant, and suddenly he pointed his finger at her like it was a weapon.
“Don’t! Don’t you fucking say that. She’s not here to feel anything anymore because of sick bastards like that one I just killed. You don’t get to invoke her memory to get your way. I’m fed up of this holy attitude and your constant judging. No one is dragging you out here. If you don’t like it, stop. But never bring up her name again and presume to think for her. You hear me.”
He was shouting as he finished, his pointing finger shaking like he was holding back the urge to attack her.
Mitena struggled to respond, stunned by the venom of his words and increasingly scared of this man standing before her. She was torn between shouting back and running away. Neither felt like good ideas and she forced herself to look at this from another direction.
“I think I’m just fed up of all the blood and violence, Ruk. I need a break. Thank god there are no more names or—”
“No more names?” Kuruk asked.
“Yeah, this is the last one on the list he gave us.”
“On the old list maybe, not the new one.”
A cold fear gripped Mitena so hard she felt like she would be sick. “What new list?”
Kuruk looked at her like he was trying to decide if she was joking. He must have seen something genuine in her expression as he relaxed and reached into his pocket for his phone. Quickly unlocking it with a thumbprint, he tapped the screen a few times and then handed it to Mitena.
With a shaking hand, Mitena accepted the phone and her face blanched.
“This can’t be true,” she whispered. “This is three times the size of the last list. Ruk, we were done. This was the last name.”
On screen was an email containing a list of names, addresses and crimes. It was laid out in the same format as the last list and Mitena knew instantly that it had come from the same source. What she couldn’t believe was just how many names there were.
“This can’t be real,” she said. “They’re such a small sub-group of the population, this many dreamwalkers can’t all have committed violent crimes.”
“He’s FBI, Ten. If anyone would know, it would be him. It’s like I already told you, there’s no such thing as an innocent dreamwalker. Their power corrupts and turns them into monsters.”
Mitena was shaking her head as she scrolled through the names, not letting herself believe this.
“No, there’s too many. There must be a mistake or—”
Kuruk angrily snatched his phone, the action so sudden it made her flinch.
“It’s real,” he said. “There’s no mistake, it’s just you not accepting reality.” There was no anger in his voice anymore, just acceptance. “You know what? I don’t think you should do this anymore. I don’t think you’re cut out for this and you should take the break you’re talking about. You’ve helped enough… more than enough. If it weren’t for you, none of this could have happened. You’re a freaking genius with the dreamcatchers. But I’ve got it from here.”
“No, don’t shut me out. That’s not what I want.”
“You don’t know what you want. Listen to yourself. Nothing I ever do is right, the official list we’re getting from the FBI is wrong, and you’re starting to sound irrational.” He stepped forward and landed a huge hand on her shoulder, squeezing it supportively as he kept her eyes locked on his. His smile was gentle and genuine as he said, “You’ve done enough. Take some time off and think about it. I know how the dreamcatchers work well enough by now that I can do the design side of things. You don’t need to be here and put yourself through this hell. You’re right, this is hard and I think it’s taken its toll on you.”
“Don’t patronise me,” she said, which made him laugh.
“I’m not. But I won’t try to convince you. I don’t think you can see straight right now. Just think on it.”
Before she could respond he stepped away and walked to the cluster of fuel cans they’d brought for the finale of the night.
Mitena watched him work, spreading the gasoline over the house. It was such a shame to see so beautiful a home burn, but she didn’t have the strength to stop him. His contact told him to burn every home to get rid of all evidence where they could, and Kuruk had taken that message to heart. The only times Mitena had convinced him not to do so were when the resulting fire would put other lives at risk.
So she just watched him work and thought of that list. Surely it couldn’t be real. It was so long and there were so many names. If that many dreamwalkers were committing crimes of such a nature, the whole world
would know about it by now, surely.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that the list wasn’t right. They might be dreamwalkers, but they couldn’t all be guilty of crimes worthy of death. The list had to be exaggerated, maybe even made up. The question was why would…
Her eyes widened as she changed her mind. Why this happened wasn’t nearly as important as another question.
Suddenly she felt sick again, and this time she couldn’t keep it down.
She jumped down from the truck and doubled over to empty her stomach onto the ground. She didn’t stop until there was nothing left, and even then she continued to feel sick as internally she was screaming at the question that came to mind.
The more she thought of it, the more she wondered how she’d be able to live with the answer. She couldn’t live without knowing though, she had to find out fast. If she was right about this, Kuruk couldn’t trust that list. He couldn’t kill anyone else.
Standing up straight again, she turned just in time to see the once pristine house get consumed by flame. The fire spread fast and it wasn’t long before the accelerant was used up and the house itself was burning. Mitena remembered seeing that house and thinking how strange it seemed that such a beautiful place housed such a vial human. Now a new fear offered a horrifying answer to that question.
Unable to watch any longer, she tapped the dreamcatcher on her shoulder and dreamwalked home, appearing in her bedroom but barely noticing that the world had changed as once more her mind asked that dangerous question.
If this new list isn’t real, then how can I trust the old list?
She kept asking herself this question because she couldn’t bear to think of the logical follow up question and the consequences of its answer. However, try as she might to keep it away, that question surfaced regardless and as soon as it did new tears formed and her stomach cramped. She collapsed to her bed, curled up on herself and clutching her stomach as she cried into the sheets, the faces of everyone she had been a party to killing running through her mind along with the new question.
If the old list was wrong, how many innocent people have I killed?
18
Wednesday, 13th July 2016
13:11
Tad rubbed his eyes, but the strange blurriness persisted.
He suspected it was a side effect of lack of sleep. Unlike Stella, he couldn’t stay awake for days without consequences. Thanks to two nightmares this week and a never ending list of worries, he was lucky if he got three consecutive hours with his eyes closed at the moment.
So, tired and unable to hide his impatience, he knocked for the third time. He added some Dream to it this time, ensuring the sound carried throughout the house so no one could say they didn’t hear him knock.
As he waited in the midday Greek sun and looked around to see if anyone noticed his behaviour, he realised his knocking was in vain. Either there was no one home, or they weren’t answering.
“What else is new?” he muttered to himself, already frustrated with the lack of response from Leon who had promised to text after working on his grandmother. However, no such luck, and Tad wasn’t the only one growing frustrated with his lack of progress.
Growler huffed from down by his feet, knocking his head into Tad’s shins to get his attention and make it clear he was bored. Poor thing. Tad hadn’t shown him anywhere near enough attention over the last couple of days. They’d spent most of their morning at the DT Headquarters after dealing with their latest nightmare, and there had been nothing for the puppy to do but wander and pester people until he earned at least a little attention.
“I know, this isn’t any fun, is it? Let’s get out of here,” Tad suggested, accompanying his words with a head scratch for the little guy. As he straightened back up though, he caught sight of something out the corner of his eye that made him think twice about leaving.
Crouching, he got a better view at a photo inside the house that was obstructed by furniture when Tad stood. As he concentrated, his vision cleared just enough to recognise it as the photo of a woman. From this distance, he would swear it was a photo of Stella.
He moved so close his nose was nearly touching the glass, but couldn’t quite make out the details.
“Damn eyes,” he muttered, blinking rapidly in a last effort to clear them. Try as he might though, he just couldn’t focus on the distant portrait which sat atop an antique side unit on the other side of an already shady room.
Tad would later blame his weariness for his next actions, because even though he knew the idea was wrong, he just didn’t care enough at the moment. Hurried along by the approaching sounds of hard-soled shoes on stone, Tad seized his opportunity and changed the channel.
The temperature change this time was a surprise as he only travelled two feet. However, he soon realised the small windows for such a large house were sized that way for a reason. The uneven ratio of stone to glass did a wondrous job of keeping the house cool. As pleasant as that was after sweating profusely outside, a side effect of the situation left him blinded by the gloom. Compared to the brilliance of the summer sun, it felt almost like night inside and his tired eyes struggled to adapt.
He heard a familiar popping sound of a dreamwalker appearing long before he made out the shape of Growler sat on the cool, tiled floor, looking at him with a judging expression.
“I just needed a closer look,” Tad whispered to the dog, irrationally feeling the need to defend himself.
Growler just yawned and looked away, but not before Tad could swear he rolled his eyes in disbelief.
Can dogs even roll their eyes?
The mental question had him rubbing his own eyes, trying to force them to adjust. This was doing his head in. When he opened them again, he could just about see well enough to manoeuvre through the room without tripping over anything. Not wasting time, he rushed towards the free-standing silver-framed photo he spotted from the street, avoiding the sofa and dining table in the process.
He felt vindicated for his decision to break in when he was close enough to clearly make out the woman in the photo. It wasn’t Stella, but she looked so much like her they could have been twins.
Tad lifted the frame and brought it closer to study it. The quality of the photo wasn’t nearly as sharp or vibrant as modern photos, and there was something about the woman’s hairstyle and the weathered appearance of the picture that told Tad it was too old to be a photo of Stella’s mother. She would have looked this age in the nineties, where the photo felt much older.
Whoever it was though, there was no doubt they were related to Stella. He’d suspected before when he’d seen those blue eyes, but with this photo there was no longer even a shadow of doubt. These people were…
He looked up, thoughts interrupted by Growler living up to his name. It wasn’t his Dream growl, so Tad didn’t expect danger. Maybe that was why he didn’t react quick enough to hide from Leon as he opened the front door and stopped in his tracks, recognising Tad in an instant.
Evidently the footsteps Tad had heard were Leon’s, and this was not a good situation to be caught in. Leon was dressed formally in trousers, shirt and tie, with polished black shoes. His good looks and physique made him look like a model coming back from a photoshoot. However, Tad doubted a photographer would be pleased with that angry scowl.
“Leon, I know how this looks…” Tad started, raising his hands and the photo in apology.
Leon wasn’t listening.
He slammed the door hard enough that the latch didn’t engage, sending it bouncing back into the room. Leon ignored it, sprinting at Tad in a straight line. He hurdled the sofa like it wasn’t even there and with just a casual palm to support his weight on the dining table he hopped over that. It happened so fast Tad was reminded of Olympic level gymnasts. The man moved with a fluidity and grace that made it look like gravity was merely a suggestion that he could ignore at will.
It was so shocking that Leon was almost upon him before Tad realis
ed he should defend himself.
Luckily, Growler wasn’t so unprepared.
He barked once. A single, high-pitched sound that was filled with Dream and loud enough to make the windows vibrate. Leon flinched, and Tad took advantage of that moment to act. Trusting Growler would follow him, Tad changed the channel and appeared almost instantly sixteen-hundred miles away in the office put aside for him at the DT Headquarters. It was a small room that was barely large enough for his desk and chair, so it was no surprise when Growler popped into existence a minute later he was practically on top of Tad’s feet.
Tad momentarily wondered what would happen if two dreamwalkers appeared in the same spot when they travelled to the same place. However, his tired mind didn’t focus on that for long and soon he was thinking about Leon’s angry face again.
“Once more, Growler to the rescue. You saved me again there, pal,” Tad said to the dog as he scooped him up and brought him onto his lap so he could reward him with a scratch behind the ears. For his part Growler looked like he was trying to maintain an I told you so look, but it only lasted until Tad found the sweet spot behind his right ear that soon had Growler dipping his head into Tad’s hand to give him better access as his eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.
Glad to have appeased his puppy, Tad wondered what kind of trouble headed his way from that little adventure. Something about the look on Leon’s face told him he wouldn’t let it slide, Thinking about it, Tad didn’t blame the guy. He’d be furious if he came home and found someone pawing through his photos.
What made the whole thing worse was now Tad knew for sure he was on the right track. He would have to smooth this over so somehow he could get the answers Stella needed.