In Dreams (14 page)

Annie pours water from a glass decanter into a tumbler and brings it to me. Her hand is shaking, and the water spills slightly over the side of the glass.

I take the glass from her and gratefully gulp down a huge sip. My throat is parched. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

Dr. Koios looks very worried. As worried as Annie.

“I don’t know about okay.” His voice is somber.

I look at him quizzically. He stands and walks to the wall by his desk, taking down a small mirror. He returns to my side and hands it to me.

Nervously, I take it and look at my reflection. There are tiny cuts on my right cheek—from where the shards hit me.

“Ho-ly crap.” I exhale. No wonder Annie is so shaken.

Both of them sit on the couch opposite me.

“It was like
The Exorcist
,” Annie says. “The cuts appeared on your face right in front of us.”

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Dr. Koios commands. “Everything.”

I do. Leaving out the part about Sebastian feeling me underneath my T-shirt. I figure that little detail can stay in my head.

“I made the door appear. I did it.” I hear in my voice how proud I am. I really did it. I controlled my dream.

“But if you hadn’t . . .” He shakes his head. “Iris, I’m worried for your safety. You could have been injured. Or killed.”

“But it’s only a dream, right? You said so yourself. You said I control it. And I did!”

“No, well . . . How do you feel right now?”

Now that I think about it, I hurt. “Really exhausted. Like when I have the flu or something.” It’s true. My muscles ache so much they’re throbbing.

Dr. Koios’s face is grim. “Iris, if you were an ordinary person having a lucid dream, then yes. If you’re hurt in a dream, or killed, it’s just a dream. But this is different. First of all, it’s not entirely unheard of for people to die in their sleep. There have been cases of older persons having a literal heart attack from the stress in their nightmares, although it’s exceedingly rare. But you are
not
an ordinary person. Your father is the great god Morpheus. Every dream a human has ever dreamed from the dawn of time, he has controlled, along with the vast numbers of citizens of the Underworld who do his bidding in those dreams. And
you
are his daughter.” He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“Iris, after seeing you dream just now, I don’t think it’s as simple as lucid dreaming. I have never encountered this before. Even I am on shaky ground, uncharted territory. It’s not just your uncle following you into reality. You bring back artifacts from your dreams. My fear—my terrible and unimaginable fear, my dear, dear Iris—is that if you are injured or killed in your dream, that . . .”

He lets his words trail off.

I think of nearly being bitten by one of the Keres. I think of the guns those soldiers carried. I think of the bullets ricocheting off the museum walls. It was a dream. But it
was
real.

I touch my cheek. I feel the blood droplets. I stare at Dr. Koios as what he is saying sinks in.

My dreams might kill me.

12

Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.

OSCAR WILDE

A
nnie drives me home. Dr. Koios makes an appointment with me for three days from now. He says I need more training. I need to build on my power. He says to try to avoid the hallway of my dreams until then. To try not to sleep too much. Since I am an insomniac, that shouldn’t be much of a problem.

Annie doesn’t talk in the car. Not one word the whole way. I’m too exhausted to speak, so we listen to her iPod plugged into the car stereo. I lean my head against the window, wishing the aching in my legs and arms would stop. Then, as we pull onto Main Street, “our” song comes on.

It’s completely dorky, but we have a whole Annie and Iris playlist. Every year it grows with new favorite songs—everything from rap to rock to indie to pop. But one is special. When we were in seventh grade, Mr. and Mrs. Casey took us to see
Wicked
on Broadway for Annie’s birthday, and then we went out for dinner to this restaurant that served the most amazing paella—her favorite dish. Ever since seeing that musical, “Defying Gravity” has been
our
song.

She makes a right and pulls down a side street, then drives down the hill to the riverfront. We used to come here and sit and look at the water until they built this tall condo building that obscures the view. Like the world needs more condos. She parks the car, and when she turns to look at me, she’s crying a little. She sometimes gets this way when “Defying Gravity” plays while she has PMS, but I don’t think that’s it this time.

“Iris, you can’t keep going there.” She sniffles.

“Annie. I don’t know how
not
to go there. At least not yet.”

“Dr. Koios can teach you.” She’s silent for a minute. When she speaks again, her voice is thin and hollow. “I can’t lose you. This is really scaring me, and I can’t even talk to anyone. I can’t tell my parents. I can’t tell another living soul. For God’s sake, Iris,
I’m
going to need therapy with Dr. Koios to get over this trauma!”

I give her this little smirk and try to get her not to worry. “Annie—”

“Don’t ‘Annie’ me,” she playfully scolds. But then she turns serious again, eyes still filled with tears. “You know that I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone about this anyway, because
you’re
the person I tell everything to. Everything. And if something happens to you, I will never, ever get over it.”

I reach out and grab her hand. “Oh, Annie, you know I love you, too.” I try to imagine how I would feel if the situation was reversed. Without my mom around much, Annie and her family mean the world to me. She’s like my sister. We’re closer than sisters. We finish each other’s sentences. We know what the other thinks before she even thinks it. I know if it was the other way around, I would tell her to stop going to the land of dreams.

She exhales. “I know I’m being selfish. But I wish you would stay away from Sebastian.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Now that I’ve found him, found the man who matches the voice, do I just give him up? How can I?

She shakes her head. “I just don’t see how this will end well. This isn’t some movie or book where
someone can just write you a happy ending, Iris. He’s . . . he’s not even
human
. That’s not like dating someone who’s a different race or religion—like I would care about that, like anyone
should
care about that. It’s not like dating someone a few years older. It’s not even like dating a bad boy who might not be good for you. Sebastian doesn’t even live in the same
world
as you. And I don’t want to see you end up like your mom. I’m sorry, but . . .”

I know she doesn’t mean to hurt me. It’s true. I don’t want to end up like my mom, either.

“Just answer me something.” She stares right at me.

“What?” I say quietly.

“Do you love him?”

I don’t answer right away. I think about it. How can I love someone I barely know? But . . . this is different somehow. Because in some other way, he’s a part of me. He’s been the voice, my protector, my guardian, for so long now. He’s been with me, that voice, that angel in my sleep, every night.
Every
night—well, except for the ones when I don’t sleep. And deep down, I have always known.

“I . . . haven’t said the words. Not to him.”

“But has he said them to you?”

I shake my head. I’m quiet for a minute or two.
“You know Carl Jung? The archetypes?”

Annie nods. “Don’t even say it. He’s your soul mate, isn’t he?”

“I think so.” Even though I say I
think
so, I know it. Just talking about it out loud with Annie confirms it in my gut.

“I have to tell you something, Iris.”

“What?”

“Henry Wu . . . we definitely had a ‘moment,’ at lunch.”

“Would you have had it if Aphrodite hadn’t told you about your future?”

“I don’t know. I certainly wouldn’t have sat down with him at the table in the first place. I wouldn’t have been curious about him at all. He would have been plain old Henry Wu, supergenius. So maybe it wouldn’t have happened until we were twenty-six, like she said. But now that I have . . . Henry Wu, sweet,
adorable
, beanpole Henry Wu . . . he makes my insides wobble.”

I laugh.

“I wanted to grab his face and kiss him right there.” She mimics the motion, since she’s fundamentally incapable of talking without using her hands. “Then he’d think I was completely nuts.” She makes a
whirling motion with her fingers near her temple, and she crosses her eyes.

“Great. Once he gets to know you, then he can find out you really
are
nuts.”

She’s not crying anymore, but she’s laughing so hard at the ridiculousness of it all that tears are running down her face. Happy tears.

“I guess what I’m saying,”she says, wiping her sleeve across her face, “is if he’s your soul mate, if he really is, then you need to be with him. We just have to find a way to do it so you’re safe. And you don’t become your mom.” She touches my cheek where I have a cut. It stings a little. “And we’ll figure it out together. Like we always have. Everything from boys to trig.”

I love my bestie.

“Promise me you’ll listen to Dr. Koios and follow his instructions, though. That you’ll come back to us when he tells you to.”

“I promise.”

She holds up her pinkie. “Pinkie promise.”

“We haven’t made a pinkie promise since fourth grade when—”

“When we promised to be maid of honor at each other’s weddings.”

I lift up my hand. I lock my pinkie with hers.
“Promise.”

She leans across the car and hugs me. “All right, let’s get home. I’m starving.”

She puts the car into drive, and we zoom up the hill and to my house.

“Want to stay for dinner?” I ask.

“Can we do sushi takeout?”

I nod. “I’m sure Grandpa would be up for that. He likes eel. And California rolls. And we haven’t had sushi takeout in a whole week and a half. Last night was Mexican.”

“I’m so craving a spider roll.” She turns off the engine, and we climb out of the car. “Have you gotten your Christmas tree yet?”

“Sunday night. We always go to that lot at the top of the hill by the hospital. We’ve still got to pull the decorations down from the attic, though.”

We walk up the front steps. I move to open the door, but I see it’s already open a crack. I swing the door wide, and then I scream. Annie is right behind me as we rush into the house.

The living room is a disaster, with picture frames broken and glass on the carpet. The couch is on its side. The desk has had all its drawers pulled out, and there are papers and rubber bands and paper clips all over the place.

“Grandpa?” I call out, panic rising with bile in my throat. I run from the living room down the hall, calling for him. “Grandpa! Mom!” And I see my mom’s bedroom door is open.

Annie calls out, “Iris! Don’t. The burglars could still be here. I’ll call nine-one-one!”

“
No! Don’t!
” I scream over my shoulder. “It’s not burglars. It’s that bastard Epiales. I know it!”

I run into my mom’s room. The IV pole we have for her is on the floor, and her sheets are torn off. The pictures of the two of us taped to her dresser have been torn into pieces. Her bed is empty.

I run to my room.

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

On my mirror, in lipstick, someone has written:

COME FIND THEM

Epiales has kidnapped my mother and grandfather.

13