by Sarah Noffke
“Fuck my life,” she said to the empty room. Adelaide stood exactly where she’d been. Not an inch over or a foot to the right, and certainly not in the other room, where’d she intended to teleport.
She’d been working nonstop for hours, trying to master teleporting. It was the hardest of all the skills, more so than creating illusions in the physical realm and much more difficult than hypnosis.
“Mum! Mum!” she heard Lucien call from the living area. Dropping her shoulders with defeat, she stomped for the other room. Teleporting would have been so much easier.
“What’s up, Lucy?” she said to the toddler with a head full of red hair and freckles spread over the bridge of his nose.
“Ren!” he exclaimed, pointing at the entrance for the kitchen.
She jerked her head in that direction and then slumped further with defeat when she found only an empty space.
“No, Lucy. Ren isn’t here. Remember, we talked about this? Ren isn’t with us anymore. He’s…” She trailed away. Telling her son that his granddad was dead just felt wrong. Or maybe the concept was what seemed wrong.
The little boy stomped over to the entrance of the kitchen and pointed up into the air. “Ren! Ren! Ren!”
Adelaide paused and studied the space. Was her son in fact seeing Ren? Like he was a ghost, but in another dimension? A parallel universe, maybe? She didn’t like the way this idea gave her hope, hope that would make the healing process longer when it turned out to be nothing. Adelaide tentatively strode for the kitchen and ducked her head around the corner to find the room dark and, sadly, empty.
“No, Lucy,” Adelaide said, shaking her head at the boy. She leaned over and picked him up, and he pinned his chubby thighs around her hips. “Ren isn’t here. I know you, just like me, like to pretend he’s still here. But that’s not the case. He can’t ever come back. He’s gone.”
Ren Lewis, for as much as he loathed kids, was strangely loved by Lucien from birth. The infant cried nonstop, but Ren could strangely get him to stop. And as the boy grew up, he always watched Ren with a polite fascination. It had been Ren whom Lucien first walked to. And it was his name that was his first word. Adelaide had been selfish in not recognizing how much Ren’s death had affected her son. She placed her hand on his back and pressed him into her, hugging him as much as he’d allow.
“Ren,” he said, his voice less adamant.
“I know, Lucy. I’m sorry. Look, maybe this will help,” she said and pointed her gaze at the center of the living room, focusing all her energy at pulling from the elements. From the carpet a figure rose up until at full height. A man with red hair to match Adelaide’s stood before them, his green eyes discerning the pair in front of him. He wore a dark green suit and an expression that said he was bored with irritation.
“Ren. Ren,” Lucien said, flailing in Adelaide’s arm to get down. She let him slide down to the ground where he ran for the figure. The boy pointed at the illusion of Ren and said, “Ren.” Then he pointed next to Adelaide and repeated himself. “Ren!”
“No, we just have the one and he’s not even real,” Adelaide said, studying the almost perfect illusion of her father. He blinked at her impassively.
“You really should be able to teleport by now. You’re such a bloody loser,” the illusion said in the voice of Ren, his Estuary accent thick.
From the hallway Adelaide heard a gasp. “Son!”
Pops moved faster than she’d seen him since she knew him. He didn’t stop until just in front of his son and then threw his large arms around the illusion, where they swept through it.
“Oh no! I’m sorry, Pops,” Adelaide said, pulling her illusion down and covering her face. “That was an illusion. I’m so so so sorry.”
Pop’s eyes widened from shock as he turned to her, not really seeing anything. His hand clapped to his chest and he heaved in gigantic breaths. “Oh…an illusion. Yes, of course. I just thought…”
“I know. I’m sorry. I produced it for Lucy,” she said, guilt pulsing through her stomach, making her think she’d throw up from the anxiety.
“Ren was the only person I’d ever heard of who could create illusions in the physical realm. You can do that?” he said, awe now in his expression, although the stress of the prior moment still marked his eyes.
“Yes, I learned it from Ren’s book. He learned it from a man named Chase. They were probably the only ones able to do it,” Adelaide said.
“Wow, that would make Ren happy to know you’d mastered that. I really thought that was Ren. It looked just like him,” Pops said.
“Thanks. But I don’t know about that. I can’t master teleporting,” Adelaide said.
“And your father didn’t until a few years ago, so ease up on yourself,” Pops said.
She nodded, watching as Lucien fixed his gaze on the entrance to the kitchen at her back.
“Yeah, I just wish I knew what I was missing,” Adelaide said, her voice absent and her focus far away.
“You’ll figure it out,” Pops said, patting her shoulder as he passed her on his way to the kitchen. He always made his tea in the afternoon, the way Adelaide knew good British people did. She wasn’t a good British person, but rather the slum that filled up the inner cities and didn’t even know what tea tasted like. Well, that had been her, but she still felt like the impoverished child, most days.
“Hey, Addy, what’s this about?” Pops called from the kitchen.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said, shaking her head at Lucien like they were commiserating on how Pops sometimes thought Adelaide could read minds without touching him.
“The statue of sorts that you’ve made,” Pops said.
She tossed her hair over shoulder and reached down and picked up Lucien. “Let’s see what the old man is talking about,” she said to her son.
Upon entering the kitchen she found what he meant. It was nothing really. Just the tray Pops used for his afternoon tea sitting underneath the knife block in the middle of the kitchen floor. All the knives had been removed and were nestled by the backsplash, as far from the edge of the counter as they could be.
“I didn’t do that,” Adelaide said, staring at the center of the floor.
“Well, it couldn’t have been Lucien. Why would someone put that in the middle of the floor? And why a tray under a wooden block?” Pops asked.
“Wait…” Adelaide said, her mind sensing there was a message here. Was it from Ren? Was he responsible for this? “What did you just say?”
“Which part? The tray under a wooden block part?” Pops said.
“Yes, which sounds a lot like Trey Underwood,” Adelaide said.
“Indeed it does. But what does the Head Official for the Lucidites have to do with anything?” Pops said.
“Tell me. Do you know who taught Ren how to teleport? Chase taught him how to create illusions, but the book doesn’t say where he learned teleportation,” Adelaide said.
“Well, I’ll be. I do believe it was Mr. Underwood, one of the gentlest souls I’ve met in all my life, save for Mary or you,” he said, affectionately thinking of his deceased wife who had been gone for over twenty years.
A chill that shook Adelaide to the core made her arms vibrate with Lucien still in her arms. “Lucy?” she said, looking straight at the boy. “You saw Ren here. Didn’t you? Not my illusion, but the real thing?”
The boy nodded profusely in her arms, then stuffed his hand into his mouth.
“Pops, I think this was a message and I think your son figured out a way to give it to me,” Adelaide said, looking at her granddad with a haunted look.
“That son of mine. He was too clever for his own good. If anyone could communicate from beyond, it would be Ren,” Pops said, staring down at the wooden block on top of the tray with a great deal of sentimentality.
Adelaide stared off, looking at nothing in particular. “Thanks, Ren,” she said, feeling hopeful. The feeling that would make it impossible to get over the man who wasn’t
quite gone.
Chapter Eighteen
“Objects that belong to an individual may be summoned while dream traveling. They will slip through the window between realms, unnoticed by those in the physical world.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
The boredom wasn’t bad most days for Cole. He busied himself gathering firewood, checking his traps, and fetching and sterilizing water. He actually enjoyed the simplicity of living in the woods. What he did mind was the loneliness. It crowded his head at times, making him think he’d go insane from the solitude. He’d started to hear voices when he fell asleep at night. Just before he drifted off the words from people he didn’t know filled his head. Conversations he’d never been a part of, in places he knew well. Once asleep, he’d find himself in these places. His old hospital, his childhood home, the store where he used to shop on the weekend. Dreaming about these old haunts always made him lonesome for a different one. Then he’d fall through the silver tunnel and find himself in the exact place where he’d been missing. And Cole was aware during these dreams. Like he was awake, and yet dreaming.
“Where did you put the knife?” Cole said, speaking to himself, as he did most days. He never answered himself the way he should have, with politeness. Sarcasm was always the better response, he felt.
“Where didn’t you put the knife, is the better question,” he said, doing a three-sixty and scanning the camp area.
“Good going, Cole. Lose the one thing you need for survival. Smart thinking,” he said, now searching the sleeping area, which was covered with a bright blue tarp. It was the closest thing to a tent that he could find when he rummaged through a junkyard. That’s also where he found the knife, the pot for boiling water, and the canteen.
“Did you hide the knife, afraid you’d cut yourself again?” he said and giggled to himself. Just yesterday he’d cut his finger pretty severely cleaning a fish. Thankfully his healing powers worked on himself, which he hadn’t a chance to test out until that moment. After that he decided to heal the ugly scar on his knee that he received when he was a kid and the one on his abdomen from when he had his appendix removed. Once he’d recovered his strength, which waned substantially when used for healing, he planned to get rid of the freckles on the bridge of his nose and the white hairs that were peeking through his dark hair. He’d also recovered a broken mirror at the dump, which was now propped up against the tree where part of the tarp was tethered. He’d thrown out a similar mirror for the same reason, in his old life. How strange that things had come full circle.
Catching his image in the floor-to-sky mirror, he smirked at himself. “You devil. So funky looking that you broke the mirror,” he said, his image split by the large crack that ran across the surface. He was just about to tell himself what he thought of that jab and where he could stick it when he noticed his pupils dilate, making the brown of his eyes almost disappear. In the mirror, the image of Cole opened his mouth and pulled his lips up just as two-inch fangs slid down where his human-sized incisors had been.
“And if I thought you were hideous before,” he said, his speech affected by the enlarged teeth.
Cole abandoned his attempts to find the knife as the wolf took over. The one good thing about becoming the werewolf was he didn’t have to work so hard to hunt. It was easy for the wolf and it always yielded a large feast that kept Cole full for a day. He set off through the woods, tearing through the trees, easily managing around the vines and roots that normally tripped him up. The wolf was more agile than any beast he’d ever seen. And it was faster than any land animal, making it no match for anything in the forestsof Florida. The smell of moss reminded the wolf of what he wanted most for dinner that night. The alligator wouldn’t stand a chance against Cole. And later, the man in him would fashion the teeth of the reptile into a tool he could use around the camp. It was almost as if the wolf and Cole were working together. Maybe it was being locked away in the woods with the canine that created this partnership. Maybe Cole should turn to the wolf for companionship. He couldn’t sink any further at this point.
Chapter Nineteen
“Serious emotional or physical trauma can lead to a Dream Traveler losing their abilities.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
“What if, like David, this attempt to quell the wolf kills you?” Rox said, striding beside Zephyr.
He narrowed his eyes at her. These women knew no boundaries with their flippant remarks and questions. Maybe she and Adelaide did it in an attempt to deal with the tragedies that went along with the job. He’d learned long ago in officer training that joking was a coping mechanism that many employed when haunted by the stress of the job. This just wasn’t an effective strategy for a captain. They had to actually deal with everything so they could lead. If he didn’t then it would eat him up, like a flesh-eating virus. However, Rox and Adelaide didn’t lead as much as boss people around. There was a profound difference. Still, he respected these two women, whom he’d been reluctantly thrown to. They were stronger than most people he knew, but had a flippant style that he’d come to appreciate.
“Sorry,” Rox said, not at all looking apologetic. “Is it too soon to joke about that were’s death? Or are you actually concerned about your well-being?”
“Both,” Zephyr said, his gaze on the door a few paces down. He halted. “I didn’t go through wolf integration like David, but there is still a similar risk.”
“If you die then can I have your…” Rox trailed away as her gaze flew to the ceiling. “Wait, I don’t think you have anything to leave me, do you? You’re pretty much worthless after you die.”
“And if I had any money, you wouldn’t be in my will anyway, Helga,” Zephyr said, his expression turning serious. “But if anything happens to me then I want you taking over for me. The men will need—”
“You want me to take over as alpha wolf?” Rox said incredulously. “I’m not even a werewolf.”
“No, you’re not. But the men respect you and you can handle them. Connor is my natural beta, but he’s not quite ready. He will be soon though. So in the meantime, you’d have the interim role of alpha,” Zephyr said. He’d spent the long night dream traveling to exotic locations and thinking this through. Contemplating his death wasn’t new to him, but it was the first time he worried how things would really affect his team if it did happen. Before, as a captain, he knew that he’d be replaced. Things would work out. However, now his service was unique. The person who succeeded him would have to be carefully chosen and trained. Rox was the right person to train his replacement. Connor, although he didn’t know it, was the right person to step in if something happened to him. Although Connor saw himself as a loner, he missed the important fact that those types made great leaders because they were independent thinkers.
“Well, I’m surprised, but I agree, I’m a great choice,” Rox said, flashing a fake smile at him.
“I’d know that too if the Botox allowed your true expression to show,” Zephyr said, his eyes on the door to the safe room. Rox turned, her eyes following Zephyr’s gaze.
“You gonna go in and talk to your puppies before chaining yourself up in the other safe room?” she said.
“No, I’m going to lock myself up with my men,” Zephyr said, trying to evoke conviction in his voice.
“Wait, what? But you’re supposed to be isolated to test the conversion. What if you don’t change or what if you can’t turn back into a man? You can’t be around those guys when they’re in werewolf form,” Rox said.
Zephyr scratched his beard, feeling the telltale signs that the change was about to happen. “Yes, but I want to be with my men. It’s a pack thing, and I don’t expect you to understand,” he said. This was another decision he made. He had to know if he was true alpha, because if he was then he had power even when they were werewolves and he wasn’t. Or maybe the drug that Aiden’s lab gave to Zephyr would kill him or the wolf. There was only one way to find out, he decided, brushing past Rox and straight for the safe room.
“Hey, boss,” Rio said, when Zephyr shut the door behind him. He heard the locking mechanism operate on the other side. Rox had initiated it and soon would be seated on the other side of the two-way mirror. Suddenly Zephyr had a flash of a cracked mirror. A guy he didn’t know stood before it just as he changed into a werewolf. He shook off the strange image, feeling connected to this man in his head. Who was that guy? A member of the pack, for sure. He’d have to explore these bizarre visions he was getting more and more before the change.
Zephyr held up his arm, noticing the black and silver fibers of fur slip through the pores of his skin. In his peripheral, he caught the changes happening in Rio, Connor, and Kaleb. However, he kept his eyes locked on his own arm and then made a firm intention. No, I’m not the wolf, he told himself. I’ll remain as a man. I’m in charge.
In his head he heard the wolf growl. Not just growl, but bite down on a part of his mind, as if rejecting the idea of being controlled. We are one, but you’re not coming out right now. Stay locked away, he told the wolf, only to be greeted by another round of growling in his head. No, he commanded to the wolf, which silenced it at once.
“Whoa, it’s working,” Rio said, gaining Zephyr’s attention.
“What’s working?” Zephyr said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Look,” Connor said, pointing his clawed hand at the two-way mirror. The men had changed fully, their hair and fangs fully in place.
Zephyr brought his eyes to the mirror to find his own image staring back at him. It was the image he’d awoken to that morning. It was the one he was accustomed to seeing. He was a man. He was in control of the wolf. Now he’d have to determine if he could bring out the werewolf randomly, but that would have to wait until another occasion. Zephyr turned to the three men, who all looked so strange to him in their werewolf form since he was thinking as a man and not as the wolf, like how he was usually when he changed.