Dreamscape Page 3

“No.”

  “No? But I thought you just said—”

  This is the trouble with the young, they do not listen. “What I said was I need your help.”

  More scoffs before she says, “You have a funny way of asking for help, buddy.”

  She’s right. I may have gone overboard with the drama, but her nearness has befuddled me. “Are you willing to listen?”

  Her eyes remain guarded. “Listen, sure, but I’m not committing to anything, just yet.”

  “Very well,” I relent. “I will try to give you the shortest version I am able. I only ask that you not interrupt me. Agreed?”

  She fidgets in her seat, flicking out a dainty hand as if she is swatting away a gnat. “Yeah, sure, get on with it already.”

  Her impatience astounds me, but I continue as if it does not. One of these days, she will present her true self to me, not this mask of indifference she wields like a sword. “You come from a bloodline of gifted clairvoyants. Sibylline, to be precise. Your mind is capable of reaching into the minds of others around you, which is especially useful to me.” I get a raise of the brows, yet she stays silent. I am further encouraged. “I should clarify one very important point for you. The Oneiroi do not control dreams, we send them. Once released, they are for the dreamer to control or reject.” When I take my usual chair opposite her, her eyes follow my movements. “There are legends about us, but legends have faded in your world. We used to be called upon for assistance when war or famine plagued the land; however, in recent years humans hardly pay attention to their dreams.”

  In the cutest gesture I have ever seen, she holds up her hand.

  “Yes?” I say.

  “I think I’m following you here, but why does it matter if people don’t remember their dreams?”

  For a moment, my thoughts distract me. Will she remember her dreams? When the time comes, will she remember me? More importantly, will she remember what she promised me?

  For someone so young, she pays attention more than I’ve given her credit for. “Since your world was new and the inhabitants simple, we focused on directing the leaders of nations. This is one form of divine guidance. At first, we only gifted good dreams, but as time went on it was clear warnings were also needed. You see, if left to their own conscience, most mortals will choose the easiest path. It takes a brave soul to stand up to tyranny or bigotry, yet it takes an equally brave soul to become a tyrant or a bigot. It was only later that we delved into the minds of everyday man.”

  She raises her hand again. I smile. “But what does this have to do with me?”

  The most important question of all. “I shall make this simple; however, if you have further questions, you may ask.” She nods. “There used to be many of us, now there are only four…including myself that have not converted to Erobos, or those that call themselves the dark ones.” She is right to shudder, but to my surprise, she does not interrupt me. “Essentially, my brothers and I accrue enough energy to leave the Dreamscape every so often.”

  “How often? And what’s a Dreamscape?”

  “Every dreamer has his or her own dream world. The Dreamscape is where those worlds are housed. My realm is part of this network, but not exactly the same. Unlike other worlds, my realm has a protective barrier around it that is meant to shield us from the Erobos. What was once a great accomplishment for my people was turned into an impenetrable barrier that keeps me tethered to this place. And as to when I am able to leave, it depends on how much energy I can save. Erobos interaction depletes my kind. My three brothers have a slightly different situation than I do, but we are all basically trapped in the Dreamscape.” She frowns but does not interrupt. “When we have accumulated enough energy, we are able to open a portal to the mortal realm. Our power does not last long, and there are dangers there for us. Suffice it to say, we do what we need to do and leave as quickly as possible. We seek humans with the ability to aid us, and I have chosen you.”

  She tucks her legs under her and leans further into the cushions. A very good sign, yet her pulse remains elevated and her complexion hasn’t recovered. “Why?”

  She is hiding her true emotions from me. In an attempt to calm her further, I lift my shoulders in a casual shrug that I do not feel. “You are gifted with the sight, you are of the blood, and, most importantly, you have no complications to distract you.”

  Her brow creases as she studies me. She folds her hands in her lap, still staring. She’s good at controlling body language, which will be a great asset for her in the Dreamscape. “What if I don’t want to help? Do I get to leave?”

  No matter how much I wish I could give her a different answer, I cannot. “I have no way of letting you go, Amelia. My power is now spent. With the interaction I face with the Erobos daily, it would likely take six hundred years to accrue enough power to enter the mortal realm again. You see, I’m trapped here, just like you. I was hoping that you would be willing to help me. When my prison was constructed, the Erobos created a portal that requires a key to open. I’m sure you noticed the elaborate doorknob.” She nods, frowning. “Although I have located the portal, I have not been able to find the key. In fact, I have discovered no matter how much I search, I will likely never find it. You, on the other hand, may be able to discover the key and in the process free us both.”

  She cocks her jaw to the side, riffling her fingers through her dark hair. What follows is a swift smile. “For a while there I was pretty sure Cryptic was your middle name.”

  Despite my efforts, a soft laugh escapes me. “I haven’t a middle name.”

  She smiles completely now. “Ha. All right, do you have a first name?”

  “You may call me Seth.”

  Her smoky eyes lock onto mine. “What if I take the job and don’t like it, Seth?”

  My fingers curve along the plush velvet armrests of my chair. Her skin is softer.

  My pulse quickens with the thought of touching her, of loving her like I’ve dreamed so many times. I swallow, and make my body relax. “My offer stands. If at any time you can find the key, you may leave.”

  I barely have finished speaking when she blurts, “What about time off?”

  “You will not require time off.”

  She gives me a once over. “Everyone needs time off.”

  When I stand, she startles. Instead of moving toward her as I had planned, I take a step back. “Are you agreeing?”

  She shrugs and joins me on the carpet as she says, “It’s not like I have anything better to do. Who knows? It might be fun.”

  This guy is certifiable, but at least he’s entertaining. For all I know, I’m right there with him. I still can’t quite accept the things that have happened. I’m hoping I’ll wake up soon, but I might just have to rethink everything I think I know about reality. My freakoutometer is measuring an eight right now. I just hope Seth doesn’t know what’s happening inside me.

  It’s taken a boatload of pretend courage for me to sit here and listen to him tell me outrageous things. What I should be doing is clawing through the walls to escape. It might come to that, but not yet. I’m intrigued by him as much as I am afraid of him. It’s stupid to feel this way, yet I can’t seem to make myself feel anything else.

  For a moment I wonder how long I’ve been here. I guess it doesn’t really matter because I no longer have a home to go back to. Once Varner figures out I’m not coming to get my things, he’ll probably cart what little I have off to charity or, more likely, his third floor unit. Slimy weasel. Everything that meant anything to me was in that suitcase.

  I push my greedy ex-landlord out of my mind because Seth’s voice still echoes in my thoughts. You are of the blood.

  I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. Next, he’s gonna tell me he’s a vampire and my blood called him to me. Yeesh. It’s bad enough he thinks he controls dreams or sends dreams or whatever. I’d hate to see what would happen if he thought he was the lord of the undead instead of the Dreamscape, or whatever he said this place was.
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  Truth is I stopped really listening after he told me things about myself he shouldn’t know or even be able to guess. It’s as if he and I are old friends and I’ve lost my memory somewhere between where I left my brain and my nerve. That’s just absurd, not because I don’t know the guy, but because I’ve never had a real friend in my life, just one make-believe boyfriend that kept me sane for four years.

  Seems weird that the minute Jason leaves my dreams this is what happens. I stiffen. What if Seth’s telling the truth? Could he have sent Jason to me? Could he bring him back? Could Jason be real.

  Man, I’ve got to stop thinking this stuff. It’s not gonna do me any good to lose my brain.

  Seth knows things about me I haven’t shared with a living soul, not even Justine. I have no clue where blood is concerned, but I’ve been able to feel people out pretty well all my life. It’s what’s kept me out of real trouble, but clairvoyant? I don’t think so. I’d be raking in the dough if I could read people’s minds. I figure, if you got something to lift you up in this dingy world, best use it.

  Seth moves toward the far wall where the pendulum swings and then faces me again, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Please, excuse my manners. You must be hungry.”

  “I could eat,” I tell him, but the truth is I haven’t eaten in two days, unless you count that ketchup packet I found in the back of my fridge yesterday. My stomach jumps at the mere thought of food, making me forgo the questions I have about this room. Like where all that fire came from, and why there is a giant pendulum suspended out of what looks like nowhere as it rocks back and forth. The sound is strangely hypnotic. I’ll ask him about it after we eat.

  He laughs. I like the sound, even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m getting myself into all kinds of trouble by acting like everything’s hunky-dory, but until he does something stupid, I’ll go along with him.

  My inner voice yells at me. He’s not normal, how can you treat him like he is? This place isn’t normal, either. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s all an elaborate illusion, but even if I discount the pendulum and fire pit, I still can’t figure out the weird hallway to nowhere or that doorknob.

  When he turns toward the wall closest to us again, a door shimmers into existence. A small gasp escapes me while his resultant smirk irritates me. Where in the world did that come from? On the other side is a room. It’s a good size, but nothing compared to Seth’s living area.

  I file in behind him, all the while hoping he’s not leading me to his torture chamber. Trying to be subtle about it, I hover at the threshold, unwilling to go in all the way until I make sure it’s relatively safe.

  As if he’s read my mind, he says, “I will not harm you, Amelia.”

  My skin prickles when he says my name in the exact same way Jason used to, and, without warning, my head goes woozy. Using the wall to steady myself, I try to shrug off how weak I am. I’ve been going on adrenaline, but my body seems to have run out.

  Sky blue eyes show nothing but concern as he approaches me. It doesn’t take a brainiac to know what he’s gonna do. For some reason, though, I just can’t handle the thought of him touching me, so I rush past him, stumbling into the room before he can grab my arm.

  He’s at my side and guiding me toward a small table in the corner before I can even mutter a protest. As if he’s being careful with me, his body curls around mine, but I won’t let myself feel safe around him.

  An awkward moment passes between us as he guides me onto a chair. Seconds later, he sets a plate of delicious smelling, steaming hot food in front of me. Where he got it is anyone’s guess. Maybe I’m just too weak to notice things right now.

  I make myself wait for him to sit even though I could down this meal in two minutes flat. He sets his own plate on the table then settles into his chair. “Go ahead,” he says.

  My fingers shake as I reach for the knife and fork. When I look at him, he gives me an encouraging smile before he glances at my utensils. Doesn’t he know I could use these against him? He’s either stupid, or he thinks I’ve got no chance in fighting him. Either way, all I want right now is the hunk of meat wafting savory goodness toward my eager nose. I fumble with the silverware, but manage to carve a chunk off the gigantic steak and shove it into my mouth. After two bites, I’m swallowing, ready for the next.

  His hand flashes out and covers mine. My heart explodes at his warm touch and my skin erupts in those strange tingles again. Why does he affect me like this? I go still as a cornered rabbit. Taking a deep breath, I raise my eyes to his. I don’t have to say a word for him to release my hand.

  “Forgive me,” he says. “I merely thought you might need some help.”

  “I’m not a child,” I say in a cutting tone that makes me flinch.

  His brows shoot toward his hairline while he laughs. I don’t miss the way his eyes rove over me. “Trust me, I am aware.”

  My stomach flutters, but I don’t know this man. What does he want from me? My mind fills with images of what he could do to me, and surprisingly, not all of them are unpleasant. I’ve got to get a grip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he stares right at me. “Only that I know who you are. I know how old you are. And I know you are starving.” His voice softens to match his eyes. “Let me help you.”

  I smack my lips and take the closest goblet. My head rushes with warning bells, and my body has tensed again, but I sit back and let him cut my food.

  Skeptical, I take a sniff of the drink in my hands. “What is this?”

  He sighs before he answers me. “Apple juice. Only apple juice.”

  My favorite. It’s creepy how much he knows about me, but I can’t keep my hands from bringing the drink to my lips. The tangy liquid slides down easy. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good.

  He makes one last cut before he hands me my utensils. I try to smile at him, but it feels wrong, forced. Of course it’s forced, you idiot. He kidnapped you for hell’s sake.

  His smile is relaxed, easy. With a tilt of his head, he eyes my food. The starving part of me shakes her fists at him, so I set to work piling the meal away. My stomach does a happy dance, greedily asking for more, but if I don’t stop soon, I’m gonna make myself sick.

  “Amelia?”

  I swallow hard. I hate when he uses my name. My body stiffens every time he does it. “Seth?” I say more casual than I feel.

  “You needn’t rush. There is more food if you desire it.”

  I nod, but suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore. I raise my eyes to his. “Enough of the bull. How can you have food like this and not be able to leave? And what’s with that pendulum? What is this place and why do you really have me here?”

  Amelia’s questions remind me of just how much work I have still to do. If only I could show her who I am. I can imagine us sitting at this table, enjoying the evening meal so easily…too easily. I’m alarming her with my familiarity.

  She wants to know why I have brought her here. Should I tell her how lonely I am? Should I confess to her that I have watched her grow from a gangly girl into the beauty that sits before me? Should I let her know how much I’ve ached to have her with me for real?

  No. That would be the stupidest thing I could do. I take a sip of my drink, letting the sweet liquid roll on my tongue before I swallow. I need no drink to intoxicate me. The woman sitting so close has already accomplished the deed.

  “I’ve already told you why I have brought you here, Amelia,” I say. Even though I know my answer will not appease her, I do not have another to give.

  She sends me a frigid frown. “Why do you keep saying my name?”

  I smile to myself. One of these times, she will realize who I am, or I will show her in the Dreamscape. It is only a matter of patience. “Is it not customary to use one’s name in a conversation?”

  She stands up, and her heart jumps into a run even though her legs stay put. Her chest rises and falls so rapidly I am worried she wil
l swoon. Her voice comes out breathy. “This has been…interesting, but you really need to let me go now.”

  I study my napkin. “I cannot.”

  Before I’m able to say anything else she runs for my chamber. She makes it into the hallway before I catch her elbow. I wonder if she knows how fast she just moved. Astonishing.

  She pulls against my light grip. “Let go of me, Seth!”

  I don’t.

  “As I have already told you, you may leave if and when you can find the key. I am unable to grant your request. You are the only person here that can access the mortal world.”

  She pries my fingers off her arm. “You’re so full of it your breath smells like horse crap.”

  I step away, tempted to check for myself. Then I realize she is not being literal. “As I said before, you are welcome to try,” I say, walking back into my room.

  My blood is pumping so fast I have to calm myself down or I will do something I will definitely regret. Her frantic emotions have caused a storm in me. I need to focus on the light or I will be overcome.

  No matter what I can’t let her see me like this, so I close the door behind me. She will find me when she is finished throwing her tantrum. So much for avoiding complications. I had hoped to have her ready within a few days, but I see now it will take far longer. Until she comes to accept her fate, training her will be futile, and taking her into the Dreamscape will be too dangerous.

  A keening wail reaches my ears. Her frustration slices my gut in two.

  I’ve done this to her. I’ve taken away her life. I can expect nothing less from her, yet anger charters a trip through my veins.

  What did I expect? That she’d be grateful for a place to live and food to eat? That she’d learn to enjoy my company again? I remind myself that she only needs time to adjust. She hasn’t even been here a full day, and I am expecting her to accept this life.

  As much as I’d like to, I cannot allow myself to pity her. She had no life before I took her. She should be grateful. A sigh escapes my lungs.

  Baltek nuzzles my hand with his wet nose. I pat his head, wishing I could ignore Amelia’s cries. No doubt she has found her flight attempts futile, once again. Her screaming might cut a hole in my resolve if I’m not careful.