Before I Wake (39 page)

I had done it better.

My dagger in one hand, I lashed out with the other and grabbed the Terror by the front of the black shirt that matched my own. I smiled cruelly into my own face. “What are you afraid of, Karatos?”

My eyes blinked back at me, bewildered. My smile grew. “You think you have it all figured out? Think you can survive in the real world? Let’s find out.”

I shoved the Terror backward as a portal sliced open behind Its shoulder. Just to make sure it worked, I gave my arm wearing Antwoine’s cuff a shake. An answering tug came from behind—a strong tug that I pushed into. Both of us rolled through like a big Dawn-donut into the familiar surroundings of Noah’s living room.

We fell apart, both of us sprawling on the gleaming floor.

Both of us identical.

Noah and Antwoine were suddenly there, staring at both of us with horror.

“Which one is which?” Antwoine demanded of Noah. Karatos was wearing a bracelet just like my tether—there was no way to tell us apart.

I didn’t look at either of them. I kept my hand on my knife and my gaze on Karatos. “Get back,” I ordered. “Both of you!”

“The bossy one’s Dawn,” Noah stated, just before kicking Karatos in the head with such precision and certainty that my stomach almost fell to my toes. The Terror fell backward, his-her-Its head smashing the floor with a dull thunk.

“Get up, asshole,” Noah commanded, standing over It with legs splayed and fists clenched.

“This is why I wanted you,” the me on the floor rasped. “So much hate. So much rage.”

Noah’s only response was to kick It again. And again. And again. And when Karatos tried to rise, Noah beat It down again. My stomach churned even as I cheered him on. I knew it was Karatos he was beating, but seeing Noah do so much damage to my doppelgänger gave me sickening chills. Thank God he knew the difference between me and the Terror. But didn’t it bother him at all that It was wearing my face?

The Terror cried out as Noah kicked It again. Blood sprayed from Its nose as Its head snapped back. Take that, you bastard.

How did Karatos like pain now that It was on the receiving end?

I tried to get to my feet, but it hurt just trying to sit up. I paused to catch my breath, and that’s when Noah made the mistake of turning his attention to me.

It all happened so fast. Karatos, even though It didn’t belong here, was still very strong and fast, and the second Noah let down his guard, the Terror leaped to Its feet. It grabbed Noah by the hair and yanked his head back. I yelled at it, bothered deeper than I could fathom at the sight of myself looking so battered and twisted and gleeful as Noah winced in pain.

“Time to go, sonny.” Karatos flung Noah toward the still-open portal, and as Noah stumbled toward it, I found my own strength and lunged to my feet after him.

But it wasn’t me who stopped Noah from going through the portal, back into The Dreaming, where Karatos certainly would have taken possession of him. It was Morpheus. He caught Noah by the shoulders.

“Steady there,” he said, and gave Noah a gentle shove to the side—closer to me. I went to him and put my arms around him, so relieved that he was still here. That the goddamn calvary had finally arrived. Noah’s arms were warm around me, and I didn’t care that my ribs were still bruised and tender. I let him hug me as hard as he wanted, despite the blood on his hands from the beating he had given Karatos.

My father, dressed in a dark blue shirt and jeans, looked like a construction worker dressed up for a date as he fixed his pale gaze on Karatos. “You. Come with me.”

The other me shook its head. “No.”

Morpheus shrugged. “You have no choice.”

“I will stay here.” Karatos lifted Its head. “I will die here.” And it would—within the next few minutes It would begin to lose form and dissolve into nothingness. I suppose that was better than facing the people who had sent It in the first place.

Okay, so was it wrong that at that moment I actually felt a sting of sympathy for the damn thing? True, my father would probably destroy It once they were back in The Dreaming, but there was something pathetic about choosing to end life in a world that wasn’t yours.

Morpheus crossed the floor, work boots thudding softly with every step. He put his arm around the shoulders of the Terror, and for a moment I saw how the two of us must look together. I saw the resemblance between us. “Come home, little dream. We have much to discuss.”

Like who Karatos was working with, for example.

The Terror looked up at him—a frightened little girl. “You’re not going to unmake me?”

My father smiled the kindly smile of a father with a wayward child. “No.”

I might have voiced my outrage at this had his voice not appeared in my head saying, Unmake, no. Remake, yes. “Remaking,” if I was not mistaken, was the term for recycling Dreamkin. Weird, but true. Karatos would be made into something else—something not so twisted and awful. A second chance, I suppose.

I wasn’t so certain the Terror deserved one, but that wasn’t my decision. It belonged to the King. To the God of the Dreamkin.

“I’m going to make sure you don’t try to run away.” Morpheus said as he snapped some kind of collar around Karatos’s neck. It looked like a big gold choker set with gems. Based on how it settled around the Terror’s throat, I knew I would look really good in it—without the bloody face, of course. The collar was obviously some kind of low-jack device. I wouldn’t mind having one of those in my own arsenal someday.

Karatos shifted to Its original form as It walked through the portal, into the custody of the Royal Guard waiting on the other side.

My father didn’t follow immediately after It. Instead, he turned to me and held out his arms.

“Are you hurt?”

I left Noah’s embrace and went to Morpheus. He took me against him gently, and I felt a strange warmth tingling through me from head to toe. He was healing me. In this world, he could heal me.

Seemed I wasn’t the only one who could do some things I shouldn’t be able to do.

“You took a big risk doing what you did,” he murmured. I merely nodded against his chest. “I’m proud of you.”

Okay, now I was going to cry. I sniffed. I was just so damned relieved…

“All better,” he murmured against my hair, and he was right. I was all better. I looked up at him.

“How did you know which one was me?”

My father’s smile was lopsided and small, but it was heartfelt and sweet. “You’re my kid. I’d know you anywhere.”

And as if that wasn’t enough to bring tears to my eyes, he kissed my forehead. “And don’t you worry about your mom and me.

We’ll find a way to make things right with her other family.”

And then, after giving Antwoine a brief nod, he let me go and walked away, disappearing through the portal, which zipped shut behind him, leaving no trace of any of the night’s events.

Noah and Antwoine crowded around me, but we were subdued in our celebration. I don’t think any of us could quite believe what had just happened. Couldn’t believe that it was all over.

“Are you all right?” I asked Noah.

He nodded. “I think so. You?”

I smiled, sagging against him. “I need a bath.”

“Get your sorry butt out of bed. You’re going to be late.”

I opened my eyes, still bleary with sleep, and looked into Noah’s smiling face. “My butt’s not sorry for anything.”

He laughed as he rolled off the bed. He was wearing a white T-shirt and the Spider-Man bottoms I liked. I may not like his little sister much, but I couldn’t find fault with how much she adored her big brother. “You have eye snot. And you’re going to be late for your first day at your new job.”

I wiped at my eyes as I sat up. We were at my place, and Fudge was at the foot of the bed, licking his paws. I smelled bacon and eggs and coffee drifting in from the kitchen, and my stomach growled.

The clock by the bed said it was twenty before eight. I didn’t have to be at work until nine. “I’m not going to be late,” I called after him, as he walked out.

He stuck his head back through the doorway, a grin lingering on his lips. “You will be if you want to shower, have breakfast, and then have me before you go.”

Well, when he put it that way…Laughing, I jumped out of bed. Life was good. Almost too good, but I wasn’t about to start analyzing that. Noah was one hundred per cent okay after the whole Karatos thing, and so was I. The edginess he’d given me lingered, but I managed to subdue it, and now it had faded like a bad case of PMS. My mother and father had held true to their agreement not to ask me to interfere on their behalf with my family. Because of that, I didn’t mind visiting The Dreaming so much.

My relationship with Morpheus was better than with my mother, but there was hope for her and me, I thought.

My father—the human one—had made an appointment to see that big-shot specialist. He would be coming to Toronto in a few weeks, once he’d cleared his schedule. I didn’t give it much thought, but I wasn’t so blasé that I didn’t think about it at all. I was more concerned about the effect his efforts would have on my family than whether or not he would actually succeed in waking my mother up. Morpheus and my mother acted like they weren’t the least bit concerned, but I think my mother’s conscience was giving her a hard time. I tried not to feel too sorry for her over that.

And I had a new job. The Monday after bagging Karatos, I had walked into the clinic and told Dr. Canning that I was done.

Facing my fears—and the possible loss of Noah, as well as my own life—was a real eye-opener for me. Dr. Canning was a jerk, and I was done being bullied and used. I was able to work wherever I wanted now, and I had been made an offer on Sunday afternoon to set up my own office in the prestigious clinic belonging to Drs. Edward and Warren Clarke.

It was Warren’s idea, not Noah’s, so that made it easier for me to accept. And there was an offer for Bonnie as well. We were both starting today. Yayee us. I would be able to do some real good there. I could continue my dream research, and treat patients that suffered not just from sleep-related issues, but a variety of others as well. I had this theory that I might actually be able to help people from inside their dreams. If I could go into the dreams of a person suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and see the horror for myself, it would give a new depth to my counseling. Not only that, but if I could slowly start to change their dreams, bend them so that they weren’t nearly so horrible, I could help my patients face their issues and begin the healing process all the faster. It was all very exciting—and for the first time in a long time I felt like I had something to contribute to the world.

So I showered quickly and went out to the kitchen, where Noah was setting plates on the table for the two of us and Lola, who was watching him with a big grin. My friend liked my guy, a fact that pleased me. And I wasn’t the least bit insecure about Lola being hot and outgoing. Noah didn’t look at Lola the way he looked at me. Noah didn’t have a painting of Lola hanging on his bedroom wall. When I was with Noah, I felt smart and fun and sexy, and all my hangups disappeared for a while. I was a little scared that I might be falling in love with him, but I wasn’t about to pull back. Not after all we’d been through.

We had plans to have dinner with Noah’s family later in the week, so we’d see if I could win them over as easily as he had won over my friends. It was his mother’s idea to have dinner, so I didn’t expect to have issues with her. I knew she liked Amanda, but she loved her son, and what she wanted most was for him to be happy and well treated. At least, that’s what I hoped she wanted.

As for his sister…well, I wasn’t going to let a teenager intimidate me.

Besides, if the kid was too much of a bitch, I could always give her a few nightmares. I’m joking, of course, but I wouldn’t be above making her dream of Wayne Newton concerts for a few nights in a row. Maybe I’d put her up front for Céline Dion as well. If that didn’t scar a kid like her for life, nothing would.

After breakfast, Lola left to go to the gym, and Noah and I went back to bed—even though I should have used the time to get ready. We made love fast and without finesse, laughing about it almost the entire time. I didn’t know what was going to happen between Noah and me, or how long we were going to last, but we had made it this far, and that was something to be thankful for.

Afterward, he helped me get dressed, and I let him apply my lip gloss. He seemed to like painting my lips, and I liked that he found me so bloody fascinating when I was, in reality, just me.

No, I didn’t know if Noah was going to end up being the man of my dreams, but I had a strong suspicion that he was. I knew one thing for certain, however.

I’m the woman of his.

About the Author

KATHRYN SMITH

My husband says I have the best job in the world. The only thing that could top being paid to do what I love is if Avon Books decided that all their authors had to be hand-fed chocolate by Hugh Jackman, Gerard Butler, or John Cusack. But my husband probably wouldn’t think so much of my job then, so instead I’ll let him feed me chocolate and go on being forever thankful that I have the best job—and husband—in the world.

Please visit my website at www.kathryn-smith.com.

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By Kathryn Smith

BEFORE I WAKE

LET THE NIGHT BEGIN

TAKEN BY THE NIGHT

NIGHT OF THE HUNTRESS

BE MINE TONIGHT

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BEFORE I WAKE. Copyright © 2008 by Kathryn Smith. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.