Dark Side of Dawn: The Nightmare Chronicles (4 page)

Once the portal had “unzipped” enough, I was able to step through. It was like stepping through a hole in a wall and into another room, only this room was another world entirely. Apparently I had the power to control the Dreaming, though I had yet to really test that theory. My abilities, such as they were, were rusty at best. I had no idea what I could do—no one did. Only one of my kind, remember?

Right now that was the least of my concerns. I had to talk to my father. I’m not sure if it was proof of how much trouble I was in, but my portal hadn’t taken me right into the royal palace as it normally did. It took me to the gates of horn and ivory—huge, towering gates that barred the way into the capital city. Dark and majestic, they loomed over me in the darkness as I approached. Behind me, the mist slowly crept, inching closer. Whispering.

The Dream Realm could be a dangerous place, but its first objective—in the area around my father’s palace—was to protect dreamers. That was the golden rule here. There were Terrors and other entities within this world who would do harm if they could. Weren’t there always? And there were those who wouldn’t hesitate to use me to get to Morpheus. All the more reason not to waste time out here, despite the gorgeous view of the twinkling lights of the kingdom and the breathtaking sight of the palace lit up like something out of Disney World.

I closed the portal behind me and strode toward the gates. I held my breath as my hands reached up and grabbed the carved ivory handle. When I pushed, the air rushed from my lungs in relief. The gate swung open. At least it recognized me as a non-threat.

I walked quickly along the smooth stones that glimmered with hints of blue and gold in the moonlight. This road led straight to the palace itself and was lined with outbuildings, homes, and other places necessary to a kingdom’s success. There was even a pub.

When I reached the castle, towering and winged obsidian guards watched my approach with wary gazes. Had they been expecting me? Had they been told to treat me as friend or foe? And were they afraid of me? I’d rather open hostility to this wariness, I think.

“Your highness.” They each bowed to me, opening
the main door of the palace for me. “The king is in the library.”

Meaning I should go directly there. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Look at me, witty girl.

But the guard hadn’t had to tell me that. I knew that’s where my parents were. I felt them there, just as they knew I had come to visit without having it announced.

I thanked the guards and entered the castle. I had but a second to appreciate the great hall and its neoclassical style before the air shimmered, blurring my surroundings until there was nothing left, and then slowly bringing them back as something new. My father had brought me to him—or rather to just inside the library door—rather than waiting for me to make the journey myself. Fabulous.

Was this just because of the Warden? Or had I done something else that was against the rules? I really had to learn more about this world, but it seemed to come hurdling at me faster than I could absorb it all.

My father stood by the hearth, like he’d stepped out of a
GQ
spread. He didn’t smile, but I could see pleasure in his pale blue eyes. That made me feel at least a little better. He was rugged, built like a construction worker, with reddish brown hair and handsome features. He usually wore jeans and a sweater—the way my mother liked him. I have no doubt he changed his looks according to his audience, a fact that creeped me
out a little. What did he really look like? And could I do the same thing?

“Dawn.” He had a rugged voice too—deep and slightly rough. “This is a surprise.”

“No it isn’t,” I said, slipping past him into the room. I loved the library. It had every book ever written—ever dreamed of. It had been great for school reports. “You knew telling Verek he could bring me in shackles would prompt a visit. Hi, Mom.”

My mother, a petite brunette, looked as elegant as ever, though a little tired. “Hello, sweetie.”

I turned on my father, who had closed the door and was watching me with that resigned expression every father seemed to know. “I had to.”

“Why?” I demanded, a sudden flash of anger drowning every other emotion. “So you can hand me over to the Warden like a prisoner?”

“So I could be sure you’d understand the gravity of the situation,” he fired back. Now he looked angry—and upset. “I can’t show partiality, Dawn, and I can’t interfere on your behalf. To do so would undermine my own position—and make things worse for you.”

Well damn. All the fight went out of me, and I had to try really hard not to slouch. I hadn’t slouched since I was fourteen and I’d reached my full height.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, folding his arms
across his chest as he passed me to walk deeper into the room—toward my mother. “The Warden wants to investigate your bringing Noah into this realm.”

“That’s crap and you know it. How could I have known it was wrong?”

Morpheus smiled. “Yes, I know it. Your ignorance might serve as a viable excuse when coupled with your genuine concern for Noah, and the attacks launched against him by Karatos.” His smile faded. “Or, the Council might see it as faulty preparation on my part. Regardless, they will judge in a manner they see fit, and I will do all in my power to help both of us weather the consequences.”

I sighed. “I can’t believe this is such a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal,” he said, placing his big hands on my shoulders. “Because they’re scared. You did something even I cannot do, and that kind of power terrifies the Council.”

Oh yeah, I’d forgotten. Even Morpheus can’t bring humans into the Dream Realm. If he could, my mother’s body wouldn’t be languishing in a bed in Toronto, driving my family sick with concern because she wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t bring her into the Dreaming either. Well, I could, but she wouldn’t be able to stay for any length of time. No human could. At least, no human that I knew of. I wasn’t about to say no as an absolute. Af
ter all, I was against all the laws of that world as well.

I managed a smile. “Think I can scare them into leaving me alone?”

“They can only affect you in this world,” he reminded me. “Not in the human realm. And while I can’t interfere with their process, I can make things very difficult for them if they overstep their boundaries.”

That made me feel better—at least a little. Then I noticed the lines around his eyes and the circles beneath. He looked tired as well. I glanced at my mother. She was more than tired, she was scared.

“Is there something you two aren’t telling me?” I asked. I admit, my fear was mostly for myself.

Mom sighed. “I went into your sister Ivy’s dreams last night.”

I knew she did that—in fact I had met her in one once. She did it with all my siblings. It was her way of checking in on her kids and grandchildren. No, I didn’t think it was the same as actually being there for them, but I knew it wasn’t an easy choice for her, and I was trying really hard not to judge her for it.

“Is something wrong with Ivy?” Screw fear for myself. My oldest sister sometimes drove me to distraction, but I loved her to death. I loved all my siblings, even though they had no idea that I was more than human.

Mom shook her head, wringing her delicate hands
in her lap. “The specialist they’ve called in—Dr. Ravenelli—is coming by the day after tomorrow to examine me.”

Oh, shit. A while ago my family had heard of this “doctor” who claimed he could bring mom out of the coma she was in. Apparently my family believed him because they’d hired him. How this man planned to sever the hold of the God of Dreams, I have no idea, but obviously my parents were concerned that he just might do it.

Not, of course, that Ravenelli could have any idea just what he was up against, right?

Or did he? I mean, it could just be a coincidence, but given everything else Morpheus’s enemies had tried, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were behind this. How much effort would it take to go into a dream and convince this guy that he could wake my mother? Worse, what if they told him
how
?

I looked at my father, my heart tripping. Coming after me was one thing, but my mother…“He’s no match for you, is he?”

Morpheus shook his head. “Not for me, no.”

My attention shot back to my mother. “You?”

She was pale. “I’m scared that he will bring me back. And yet, part of me thinks I should just let him.”

I raised my brows. This was new. “Really?”

She nodded. “I’ve missed my family, Dawn. I’m not as cold and heartless as you think.”

I didn’t reply. The jury was still out on that most days. I opened my mouth, but my father cut me off. “There’s nothing to worry about, Maggie. I’ve been in his dreams. He’s no threat. You’re not going anywhere.”

He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders, standing behind her like some great avenging angel. She couldn’t see his face, but I could, and the look on it gave me a shiver. I pitied that specialist if he did manage to wake my mother. In fact, I pitied anyone who came between my parents. My father might be soft when it came to me and my mother, but he was a god, and historically speaking, gods don’t like to be crossed.

Being his daughter, that technically made me a goddess—or at least half one. I didn’t like being crossed either, come to think of it. And I had no idea what I was capable of—except that I could do things that even Morpheus couldn’t.

No wonder the Nightmare Council was scared.

I was too.

True to my word, I walked into Amanda’s hospital room at four thirty-two that afternoon. She was resting—a bruised china doll against the stark sheets. Her injuries looked worse in the harsh light of day than they had the night before. There was probably some reason why swelling and bruising always got worse before it got better, but I didn’t know it. It didn’t seem fair.

Noah sat beside the bed, reading a dog-eared Stephen King novel. Gruesome reading made even more gruesome by the circumstances, but King was his favorite, and if the book provided a distraction from reality, I was happy for it.

He looked up as I approached, and as tired as he was, his face lit up when he saw me. I liked that. He held up
his hand to stop me from coming any further, slipped quietly out of his chair and silently crossed the room to meet me. He steered me into the small bathroom and closed the door behind us.

I opened my mouth to say hello, but words failed me as he cupped my face with his hands and kissed me like his life depended on it.

My arms went around his waist, pulling him close as our lips moved together, dancing in a slow, sweet waltz that not only had me sighing, but tingling in all the right places. The sink pressed into the back of my legs, cool porcelain through my jeans, raising goose bumps on my thighs.

God he felt good. Firm and lean, strong beneath my hands. Warm. He was so warm and hard. And he tasted faintly of peppermint—hot, wet peppermint. He hadn’t shaved and his jaw was rough. I was going to have a bad case of whisker burn when we finally came up for air and I didn’t care. It was just so good to be in his arms—and to know that he wanted me. Sounds sappy, but it was true.

“Well, hello,” I murmured when our mouths finally separated.

Noah smiled—slow and sexy. “Hey, Doc. I missed you.”

Awwww. I grinned. “I missed you too.” I let a few seconds pass. “How’s Amanda?”

Yup, I knew how to kill a moment, but I had to ask. I
mean, we were sucking face in her bathroom—it wasn’t really tactful.

“I don’t know,” he replied, running a hand through the thick black of his perpetually mussed hair. “She woke up screaming earlier. She won’t talk to me about it. She just held my hand until she went back to sleep.”

I nodded. “I doubt she’ll talk to me either.” Regardless of how I felt about Noah asking me to be there, I wouldn’t turn Amanda away if she wanted to talk. But, she would be in charge, and I would follow whatever pace she set. Rape often left victims with a kind of post-traumatic stress, and that could manifest in many different ways. The physical ordeal might be over, but for Amanda, the mental suffering was just beginning. I didn’t tell this to Noah, however.

He stroked my hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome.” And then, because I couldn’t help myself, “Are you going to hang around here tonight?” The minute the words left my mouth I wished I could take them back. They seemed so selfish.

He still had some of my hair between his fingers. He rubbed it, smiling vaguely. “No. Amanda’s mother’s going to be with her. She hates me, so if you can stand it, I’m all yours tonight.”

Oh, I could stand it. “Sounds good.” Especially since I was going to face the Warden tonight. A nice evening with Noah would make me all the braver.

He gave me another quick, hard kiss, tugged on my hair, and then opened the bathroom door. I followed him to the bed. Amanda stirred at our approach.

“Mandy,” Noah said softly. “Dawn’s here.”

The Barry Manilow song started playing in my head, accessing the library of pop culture I seemed to house. Amanda’s eyelashes fluttered, finally opening to reveal brown, groggy eyes—or rather one groggy eye. The other was still very swollen. They had to be giving her something to sleep. Was she able to dream? Not much, I bet. The sooner she could face the dreams, the sooner she would begin to heal.

“Dawn,” she croaked. “Hi.” She sounded awful, so hoarse and frail.

I forced a smile. “Hi, there. You up for a little company?”

She shrugged, then winced. I couldn’t imagine the pain she was in. “Sure.” Her gaze flitted to Noah and he smiled.

“I’m going to go get a coffee,” he announced. “I’ll be back before your mom gets here.”

I tried not to show—or voice—my surprise. He was going to leave me? Here, with his traumatized ex-wife? Did he need caffeine that badly, or had I been so easily duped into playing doctor with a woman who didn’t want my help?

Either way, I was a little pissed, and I shot him a look
that told him that. In return, I got a look that wasn’t so much contrite as it was determined. His concern for Amanda was admirable—sorta—but his methods left something to be desired.

Noah’s ex-wife fumbled for his hand with her own, and gave his fingers a squeeze before letting him go. “Thanks.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. The gesture struck me as sweet, and more than a little sad.

When he was gone, and Amanda and I were alone, I eased closer to the bed. “Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head and lifted her left arm. “They’ve got me on tubes for everything. It hurts to eat, hurts to pee. Tubes take care of it.” She laughed humorlessly and I swallowed. Hurt to pee? Christ.

Then she looked at me. “You know, you’re the first person who hasn’t asked me how I’m doing.”

I didn’t think she was offended by that either. “I guess the answer is fairly obvious.”

A hint of a smile curved her swollen lips. “Noah won’t let me look at myself.”

I kept my expression guarded. Whether or not I agreed with Noah didn’t matter. He was trying to do what he thought best, but taking more of Amanda’s control away wasn’t going to help her. “Do you really want to see?” I asked.

She nodded. “I do.”

I rummaged through my bag and found my compact
du jour
. I opened the plastic container and offered it to Amanda. She took it with trembling fingers. “I have this kind,” she remarked, with the kind of surreal observation I often experienced in my line of work.

“It’s good stuff,” I replied evenly, trying not to hold my breath as she angled the mirror to better see herself with her one good eye.

She was quiet as she surveyed the damage. I watched, looking for any flicker of emotion. Amanda stared at her own reflection as though looking at a stranger.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” she said finally, handing the compact back to me. “Nice to know I look better than I feel.”

I dropped the makeup into my bag once more, and then set the supple leather on the chair by the bed—the one Noah had been sitting in when I arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. It was a little unnerving, having that one dark eye focused so sharply on me. “Not really.”

“Okay.” I was relieved. I didn’t want to be her doctor, and I didn’t know if we could ever be friends, so her not wanting to talk took the pressure off of me to be anything to her.

I guess she figured she owed me an explanation. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I don’t pity you.”

That one-eye gaze bore sharply into mine. “After what I did to Noah, I guess you don’t.”

“Noah’s got nothing to do with it,” I told her honestly. “I feel for you, and I genuinely hope that you make a full recovery.”

She was silent for a moment. Maybe she was collecting her thoughts, or maybe she was wondering if I was sincere, and how much of that sincerity came from my desire to not share Noah with her any longer than I had to. If asked, I’d say maybe fifty percent.

How was that for honesty?

“I went for a walk,” Amanda rasped, her battered throat obviously kicking up a fuss at being forced to make words. She took a sip of water. “Alone, late at night. You going to tell me how stupid that was? Everyone else has.”

“Like who?” I really hoped Noah hadn’t said that.

Amanda shrugged. “Everyone thinks it. I can see it.”

This was so not good for her. “Amanda, it’s not stupid to feel safe in familiar surroundings. And even if it was, stupidity doesn’t deserve what happened to you. It’s not your fault. I’ve walked home alone at night.” I’d be on my guard if I had to do it now, let me tell you.

She smiled slightly at me. “Having been raped before, don’t you think you should know better?”

I wasn’t sure if she was teasing or actually taking me to task. “So I should act like a frightened little
girl? A victim? I should hide instead of living my life?”

She grabbed my hand and clung to it with surprising strength. I could see a little dried blood beneath her nails and wondered if it belonged to her attacker. Would that trace of DNA give police what they needed to catch this guy?

“I don’t want to be afraid either,” she confessed, eye wide, cheeks pale. “I’m so afraid I’ll never be right again.”

I gave her hand a squeeze with my much larger one. She was so delicate. “You’ll be right again.” And I meant it. Even if I had to go into her dreams and stitch her world back together myself.

Wait now. Where had that come from? Noah was the protector of the innocent and slayer of dragons, not me. What was it about Amanda that made me want to suddenly become her champion? I couldn’t be so insecure that I’d help her just to keep her from becoming dependent on Noah.

“He held me down,” she blurted. It seemed she was unable to help herself, and I knew she hadn’t told this to anyone other than the police. “He came out of nowhere. I didn’t even hear him until it was too late. One minute I was walking, happy and relaxed, and the next I was on my back on the ground and he was on me.” Her hand went to her throat. “He choked me. Stuffed something awful in my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I tried to fight. I really tried.”

My heart twisted at the sight of the slow tear that ran down her face. I squeezed her hand again. “You can’t blame yourself, Amanda.”

She stared at me, cheeks wet. Gaze pained. “I can. I do.”

Anger swept over me. I wanted the bastard that hurt her to pay. To suffer. “Did you see his face?”

She frowned. “He wore a hat pulled low. Maybe. I don’t…I don’t know.” She sighed, sinking into her pillows with fatigue.

My anger fled in the face of hope. If she had seen him she could identify him. It was possible her mind simply didn’t want to recall his face. “I want you to do something for me before you go to sleep tonight.”

Amanda’s entire expression was wary. “I don’t want to think about it when I’m alone. I keep thinking he’s going to find me and finish it.” Her fingers went to the bandage on her scalp.

I knew what she meant. She was afraid he was going to find her and kill her. Most rapists weren’t killers, but Amanda’s fear didn’t know that. It was only natural that she be afraid of him coming back.

“I don’t want you to think of what happened,” I told her. “I want you to think of me. I want you to imagine I’m there with you. Imagine I’m your personal dream guardian.”

And I had every intention of being just that. Why?
Why the hell not? I could help her, so wasn’t I obligated to do something? All I had to do was find her through the haze of drugs and help her through her dreams that would begin healing her emotional wounds. I wasn’t just doing this so I’d have Noah back either. I was going to do this because I could, because I didn’t want that bastard to hurt her anymore—and because I wanted to see his face.

Amanda began to cry in earnest, and my heart broke for her. When she leaned forward, tugging me down, I didn’t stop her, but went willingly into her embrace. She needed a hug, and to be honest, so did I.

I put my arm around her shoulders and rested my cheek on top of her head, mindful of the bandage nearby. I couldn’t get past that bandage—it had become the sterile representation for everything vile in the world.

My own eyes filled with tears as I held the trembling woman. Shudders wracked her slender frame and I felt her sobs dampen the shoulder of my blouse. I didn’t care.

A soft sound caught my attention and I looked up. Noah stood in the doorway, a paper cup of coffee in his hand. It was for me—I just knew it. He had such a pained expression on his face—but there was more to it. And for the first time I realized that I wasn’t the outsider in our little triangle. Not this time.

He was.