Brush of Darkness (13 page)

“The CrossRoads?” I’d never found my way to the silver-gilt roads that ran between the worlds, but I’d heard enough about what they looked like to at least venture a guess.

He nodded, his brow furrowed. “Of course. The Dreaming is merely another way to get there, but not one that mortals can normally take.” He carried me, his legs pacing with rhythmic certainty. The silver-dappled road stretched without end, a spider’s web of ley lines curling into the distance, but all around us were shadows. “Are you all right?”

“I guess. I usually wake up by now.” I shivered, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck. He chuckled. His gaze flicked back to the road and I wondered what he was looking for.

“You weren’t kidding about the nightmares,” he muttered. “That’s about one of the worst manifestations I’ve seen in a long time. Your mother?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s just me. I hate it. I’m sure it’s my subconscious trying to tell me something.”

“It could be, or it could be something more.” He stopped
and cocked his head as though he was listening for something. “Ah,” he sighed. “There it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Your Heart. This isn’t the way I would normally go. Skirting the edges of the CrossRoads with your Shadow Self is dangerous enough, but whatever is causing your nightmares
really
doesn’t want to let you go.”

“My Shadow Self?”

“You’re still asleep,” he pointed out, tapping me gently on the arm. “This is merely a projection of you from your dreams. Coming here is a short-term escape, but not one you should repeat. Stay long enough and your real body will die.”

A cold shiver ran through me at his words. “I never saw the funeral,” I said softly. “Never got to say good-bye, really. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the gravesite.” I bit my lip and tasted blood. I’d sat in the damn car for hours after I’d been released from the hospital, just parked in the cemetery, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get out of the car. Finally, I’d driven away, never looking back. “I’m a coward, I guess.”

“No. You simply don’t want to admit defeat.” He shifted me in his arms. “Do you want to walk?”

“Getting heavy, am I?” My tone was self-mocking, but I nodded anyway.

He gracefully set me on my feet. “No, the roads are getting muddied somewhat. It will just be easier if you’re touching them.”

I was barefoot, and the silver cobblestones were warm and tingly, like sea foam upon an ocean of darkness. The trails glittered and shifted in the distance as though they might drift away. I wiggled my toes, stirring up a pile of silver dust. “Is it always like this?” I asked.

“Parts of it.” The incubus stared off into shadows but
didn’t release my hand. “This way. We need to move.” He pulled me along, my feet making no sound against the road.

“What happens if it catches us?” My eyes darted from side to side, searching for any sign of the wretchedness we’d left behind.

“It won’t, but we need to go. The longer we linger here, the more likely we’ll be snared by something else.” He didn’t elaborate on what that something else was, and I didn’t press the issue. He could damn well tell me later, when we were safe. Or at least awake. “It’s this way. Hold on tight.” His hand gripped mine harder, our fingers entwined as we plunged into the darkness, away from the road.

I struggled to speak, but we were back in the void and I had no voice. He must have sensed my panic because he squeezed my hand lightly. I could barely see the edges of his face, just the dim outline of the glowing whites of his eyes. I focused on them until my own eyes dried out and I was forced to blink.

We stopped in front of a house. Or rather, we stopped in front of a large Victorian guarded by a massive iron gate.

I stared at the porch, my hands lightly gripping the bars, my mind struggling to reconcile its familiarity, with its chipped yellow paint and battered edges, its swinging chair, the broken light fixture twinkling in welcome.

I jumped when Brystion materialized beside me. “Do you have to keep doing that? You know, that whole creature of the night thing?”

He shrugged, inclining his head toward the house. “Old memories?”

“Yes.” I tapped my fingers on the gate again, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s the house I grew up in. What is this place?” I looked around, but there was only my house sitting there in the darkness, surrounded by an open patch of yard and then clusters of thick trees that stretched out farther
than I could measure. It smelled like pine and old cedar and the faintest whiff of my grandmother’s roses.

“The Dreaming, of course.” He arched a brow at me, amused. “Where else would we be?” There was something amorphous about him now, as though he merely took a human shape for my benefit.

“I don’t know. I just thought it would be different—clouds or mist or something.” His mouth twitched, and I flushed. “Well, how the hell should I know? It’s not like I’ve ever been here.”

“Actually, you have. Every mortal comes here when they sleep—they just don’t remember it. It’s subconscious. This”—he gestured toward the house—“is the Heart of your Dreaming. A home base of sorts.”

I nodded slowly, peering out into the darkness hovering beyond a little rocky path that twisted down a sloping hill. “And the rest of it?”

“That’s up to you. These are
your
dreams, after all. They are what you make of them.”

I shivered when the tang of the sea hit my nose, and I gestured at the path. “The nightmares are that way.” Somehow I knew it to be true; if I were to follow it, I’d come to a rocky cliff, golden dunes, and a swirling sea of darkness. And the sharks.

I tugged on the chain around the gate after deciding I didn’t really want to pursue that particular line of thought. “Why is this locked?”

“Seems you don’t trust me enough to let me in.” He frowned, as though he were admitting something he’d rather not. “Your subconscious is wiser than you know.”

“Like vampires and thresholds, I guess. Convenient.” My eyes narrowed, watching him. Maybe a little
too
convenient. “And yet, you were able to pop into my dreams last night pretty easily.” And fill them with a scene even the cheesiest
romance novels would have been ashamed of.

“You weren’t actually in your Heart then.” His head tilted toward the rocky path. “You were headed that way. Fair game, as far as Dreameaters go,” he added dryly.

My skin shivered at the thought. Had I been aware of him? “How is coming here going to help me with my nightmares? Assuming I actually make it inside at some point.”

The incubus sighed. “I can teach you how to come here when you sleep, so that your dreaming will be clear. It won’t solve the issue of what is causing your nightmares, but you will have a safe place to retreat.”

I shifted uneasily. It sounded good, but the idea of giving a daemon free rein in my mental wonderland caused an uneasy roil in my gut. Yet, what choice did I really have? I’d given him my word.

An uncomfortable silence ticked by as I stared back at the house, wondering just what he wasn’t telling me. My gaze flicked back toward him. “‘Safe’ is a relative term.”

“Ah, well, you’re in my domain now, Abby.” The incubus leaned up against the railing, something in his mien suddenly smug. “That means I have the control here.”

I arched a brow at him. “Even in my Heart?”

His lips drifted into a gentle smile. “That is up to you, I suppose. I know what I would prefer.”

“I’ll bet you do,” I muttered. “We’re going to have to work on that shyness problem of yours, incubus. I’m getting tired of hanging out with such a wallflower.”

“Indeed.” He leered. “Want to help me out with that?”

I shoved him lightly. “Not tonight. I should probably get back. After all, we’ve got a succubus to rescue, don’t we?”

The amusement drained from his face and for a moment I was sorry I’d killed the vibe. On the other hand, business was business. He’d come through enough for me to see what he was offering. The chance to offset my nightmares was
a heady offer by itself. Sex, or the promise thereof, wasn’t going to be part of the equation.
At all
.

“We should probably head back to the art gallery in the morning. Maybe I can convince Topher to give us a little more info on Sonja’s whereabouts. I’m sure once he understands the situation, he’ll be more forthcoming,” I suggested.

“Maybe,” Brystion said flatly.

“You never know.” I shrugged. “I can meet you when it opens, if you want. Technically, I’m supposed to open the Pit tomorrow, but somehow I’m thinking this is a bit more important. Speaking of which.” I tugged on his shirt to get his attention. “How do I get back? And will I come here every time I fall asleep?”

“Time passes differently here, sometimes. As to whether you come back here . . .” He watched me for a long moment.

I started to fidget and clamped down harder around the bars. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said finally. “The Heart of your Dreaming is part of you, so you have nothing to fear from it, but if you should find yourself back at the CrossRoads, call for me.” Gold flecked the outer edges of his eyes, and his voice became husky. “I will find you, always.”

I shivered beneath that dark gaze. “That’s the sort of promise you can only make to a TouchStone.”

“Yes.”

I blinked. A TouchStone?

His fingers traced my shoulder, trailing up my neck to my lips, cutting off anything else I might have said. “Wake up,” he whispered.

I sat up with a jerk, startling the unicorn from where he’d curled up against my side. “Crap!”

Nothing but silence met my shout. Well, actually the unicorn made a little
meh
sound at me and rolled over, but that
didn’t count.

I flopped onto my back with a whoosh, arms curling back beneath my head. Not a bloody chance in hell of falling back asleep. The first rosy rays of dawn were already creeping underneath the blinds. Besides, if I fell back asleep, would I end up there? With
him
? And would that be such a bad thing?

Damn it all.

Assuming I believed the incubus, I’d somehow become his TouchStone. Then it hit me. Yesterday morning in the Pit, that little mind-roll with the . . . well, the naked stuff. Or at least the vision, the snapping sound. It was the only possible explanation.

My own stupid luck. And my own stupid fault for not having realized it earlier. But then, it wasn’t like that’d ever happened before.

I eyed the unicorn wryly. Okay, well, it would seem I’d done it twice—by touch. Not Contract. That wasn’t normal, was it? I’d certainly never heard Melanie talk about it before. Or anyone else, for that matter. And, of course, the only other option was currently sprawled behind my knees and snoring like a chain saw. Not like
he
was going to sit up and converse over a pot of English Breakfast.

On the other hand, hadn’t I suggested a possible TouchStone Contract between me and the incubus? So why the fuss now that it had already happened?

Because he’s holding the cards
, my inner voice piped up. It was a fair cop, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. At least with a Contract I knew what to expect. This was like free-falling without a parachute.

I wondered how long it would be before Robert figured it out—if he hadn’t already. I had a sinking feeling the angel knew more than he’d let on. As far as I was concerned,
both
men lost points for that one. How hard would it have been to
explain what was going on?

How hard would it have been to ask?
my internal voice prodded snidely.

“I’m an idiot,” I told the unicorn. He cracked an eye at me and snorted. “Well, you don’t have to agree with me.” He turned away with a self-aggrandizing sigh and I shook my head. “No help at all.”

I slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom. First thing I wanted was a hot shower, and then maybe something to eat. After that . . . well, I supposed I’d just have to see.

T
he sunlight gleamed on the burnished copper sign of the Portsmyth Waterfront Fine Arts Gallery as I waited outside on the steps. The brine of the bay rolled over the cobblestone streets in a thick fog that spoke of potential rain later. My sandaled heel tapped fast on the polished marble. “Stop that,” I muttered to it, willing it to still. A subdued breakfast hadn’t done anything to calm my nerves and I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say.

The lack of a formal Contract left the door open to a whole series of unknowns. For some reason the one with the unicorn hadn’t bothered me nearly as much. But then again, all he did was eat and laze about. The incubus, on the other hand . . .

Even if I asked him, how could I trust his word? Brystion had obviously known for at least a day or so—and he’d waited until I was
asleep
to tell me.

“Not good,” I sighed, sipping the last bit of my Dark Cherry Mocha. Thank the gods for Starbucks, anyway.

“What’s not good?” Brystion perched beside me like the shadow of a crow, his movements quiet.

“Your hair,” I muttered, concentrating on the steaming cup.

He let out a bemused snort. “And here I thought you liked dark and mysterious.”