Dream Walker (28 page)

What the fuck did he just say?
Raze’s blood was ice now.

Mathis appeared as shocked as Raze was. He didn’t respond right away looking like he was considering his options and measuring his next move.

“So what is the real purpose of Demesne?” Mathis finally asked. He was playing dumb. Raze could tell. The light was totally on and he was trying to get the ally to disclose more, to validate his hunches.

The ally remained silent, stoically regarding Mathis. Then he smiled crookedly. “I can tell you what you want to know.”

Raze held his breath. Mathis looked like he was, too.

“But in order for me to tell you what you want, you need to give me something that I want.”

What the hell could the sergeant possibly have that this monkey-fuck-fuck would want?
Raze thought.

Mathis must have been thinking the same thing. “Uh...well, okay, but I have no idea what that could possibly be.”

The crooked smile slipped from the players face. “I want the girl. You need to tell me how to find the girl, and I’ll tell you all about Demesne.”

Raze ripped his visor off and threw it across his bedroom.

“Game off,” he commanded.

The game was no longer secure. The Womb, the project, nothing was secure anymore.

And Raze knew exactly who that fucker was.

∞

Mathis gut tensed up at the mention of the girl. He didn’t know what to say. He knew not to deny knowing what Ichiban was talking about. Mathis knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Well, I don’t exactly
know
her,” he said. And he didn’t. She was just a nurse’s aide who he had thought created a fluke response in Blake Parrish.

“You may not know her,” Ichiban said. “But you know how to find her.”

Mathis didn’t attempt to deny that, either.

“I need her last name or her address. Give me one or the other, and I’ll give you the information you want to know. If you give me both, I’ll take you there.”

“Take me there?” Mathis lost his poker face. “But we’re already here.”

Ichiban shook his head. “No.
This
is only a game.” He gestured to the jungle around him. “You tell me how to find the girl and I’ll take you where the real action happens.”

Mathis’ spidey sense was atingle. There
was
something more to this game after all.

“But why the girl?” Mathis asked. “What does she have to do with this?”

“She’s my business. You tell me how to find her and your answers will be revealed.

With that, Ichiban blipped out of sight, leaving Mathis alone in the jungle of Octave 6.

CHAPTER 28

Raze was in The Womb faster than a nickel hooker on crack. He checked the Qi reader. His brainwaves were spinning at the highest cycle of Beta, like a maggot about to blow a gasket. If there was ever a time he needed his skills, it was right now.

There was no point in trying to go straight into Theta—his agitation wouldn’t allow for that—and fighting it would only increase the resistance. He’d have to take it step by step, acknowledge the interference that blocked him, so it would let him go.

“Beta 15.”

He inhaled long and deep, allowing himself to fully feel the most intense current coursing through his meridians.

Rage.

Wrath was coiled tight and ready to strike. He’d been had—played like a newbie in his own game. But rage wouldn’t take him where he needed to go. He sucked the emotion deep into his belly, absorbing its venom and taking from it the motivation he needed. Then he exhaled forcefully, releasing the chaff in an explosion—pushing it far away from him.

He inhaled again.

Confusion.

A massive wad of “how the fuck?” created a turbid soup in his mind. How the fuck had all this happened? How the fuck could he have been so blindsided? How the fuck had he missed all the signs? He lassoed each question one at a time with a breath and exhaled them in a propulsive blast. He’d get all his answers soon enough, but he needed clarity now.

With every inhale he acknowledged another useless emotion and with each exhale he expelled it, let it go, and locked it out. After five minutes, the throbbing in his jugulars subsided and the static in his field dissipated.

Raze checked the Qi again. Beta 12. Not good enough. An underlying discord still hummed off-key within him, denying him access into the zone. It was a faint, yet familiar, buzz of emotion. Raze recognized it, like a distant acquaintance from long ago, its name just on the tip of his tongue. But he refused to speak it. He had defeated that demon years ago. There was no way it could have taken up residence within him again.

He continued breathing, trying to find an alternate route around the block, working his fingers through the mudras like an idiot savant, and pulling his scattered energy in close around him. But it was no use. Raze wasn’t going anywhere until he acknowledged the dissonant chord and called it out for what it was. Reluctantly, he sucked another deep breath into his constricted chest.

Fear.

The admission rocked him through and through. The worst had happened. Not only had he completely lost control—he never even had it in the first place. All this time, he had believed he was the one working the strings and yet, in reality, he was the one dangling on the other end of the line.

He stood at the end of a dark tunnel. No light could be seen shining from the other side and what lie within was unknown and could very well destroy him, but Raze wasn’t about to just stand there and let fear have its way with him. He would not be immobilized. He would not be castrated. He knew who he was. He knew he hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he was capable of. He would confront whatever,
whomever
, he found in the hinterlands and hold his own against them. He would be the one to choose how his day would end.

And with that, Raze felt the alignment click into place.

“Alpha 8.”

White noise came on and the chaise went into zero gravity. Raze worked the sequence and continued spiraling down the cycles until he felt the final shift into low gear.

“Theta 7.”

The Womb went into automatic.

“North 37 degrees, 40 minutes, point two, four, six seconds. West 120 degrees, 55 minutes, 19 point three, four, two seconds,” she said in her serene monotone.

The luminescent globe appeared immediately, hovering in front of his mind’s eye. Raze watched as the aperture blossomed and then he stepped through the opening to confront the only person who knew about Aislen.

CHAPTER 29

Fingertips ran through her hair, gently pulling and twirling the long tendrils and fanning them around her head. Soft caresses brushed across her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, before playing around her ear and down her neck.

She took a deep breath and sighed.

“Hey there, Sleepyhead.”

Aislen opened her eyes and looked up at Troy’s smiling face. The smoke from the incense and the dusky, afternoon sunlight created a dreamy haze around him. Her head was resting on his lap and she felt her heart starting to race as his fingers went back to working their way through her curls. It couldn’t be real.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Troy said, smiling bigger. “If you are, then I am, too.” His fingers traced the side of her face, to her shoulder, then down her arm, leaving chills in their wake. Then he pinched the back of her hand—
hard
.

“Ow!”

Troy laughed. “Nope. Not a dream.” He kissed his own fingertips then brushed them lightly over the spot that he pinched. “All better?”

Goosebumps blossomed up her arm, answering his question for her. It felt better than better. A powerful thrill tingled inside of her, reminding her of their kiss earlier. The heat and passion of it had consumed her. Troy was so tender with her, so considerate, that she felt completely safe, sheltered in his arms like she belonged there.

So when he asked her to tell him about her dreams, she did; finally trusting him enough to share the truth. He hadn’t lied; he
was
a great listener, completely engaged, without a hint of judgment or criticism, as she told him the gory details about the dream with Blake and how she had watched him shoot someone in cold blood. The honesty alleviated a burden she had carried about hiding it all from him, but it also left her feeling completely exhausted and, while lying on his lap, she must have drifted off.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep. How rude!”

“It’s totally fine. I was enjoying the view.”

She blushed again, sat up, and stretched. Then she realized that for the first time in two days, she had slept without dreaming. Could it be possible that just talking to Troy had cured her? Sure, talking with Genesis had been helpful, but the fact that Troy accepted her affliction put her even more at ease.

But then Aislen thought about her father. If she were cured of the dreams, would she see him again? She had actually started to like him and the idea of not seeing him—of him being a figment of her imagination—renewed the ache of loss.

“What’s wrong?” Troy asked.

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“Aislen, please. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You may not say anything, but every emotion you have reads across your face like a CNN news ticker. What is it?”

“I just realized—I didn’t dream just now. For two days, I haven’t slept without having some kind of strange or disturbing vision. I’m kind of relieved, but kind of sad, too, I guess.”

“Gen told me you had another dream, something about an estranged father, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was about. She thought that would be best if it came from you.”

Aislen thought about her father, a man she had only seen once in her whole life and rarely thought about, until the dreams came. In all of her talks with Troy, she had never gone into any detail about her life. He knew that she lived alone with her mother, but she’d never told him about her father or that he’d abandoned them. It was way too personal to share with a co-worker. But now that they were becoming something different, something more, maybe she could go there.

“Are you sure you want to hear about it?” she asked. “I don’t want to bore you to death.”

“Absolutely, I do,” Troy said, sliding himself behind her and pulling her back against his chest. “There is nothing I would rather hear about.”

CHAPTER 30

Raze stepped through the blazing white aperture and into the room on the other side. 

Blake was curled in the fetal position on the sheetless, stained mattress of his bed, moaning and rocking himself back and forth. He looked scrawny and pathetic in his thin, paper gown; but Raze was no longer fooled.

He glanced through the windowpane into the hallway. An oily-faced police officer, who must have drawn the short stick for babysitting duty, was planted in a chair just outside the door. Fortunately, he was completely engrossed with his iPhone: checking his Facebook, looking at porn on YouTube, or IMing his bitch. A little tête-à-tête between Raze and Blake would not disturb him.

Raze turned back to Blake and waited. He knew there was no need to disengage the option-lock command because he knew now—it had never worked in the first place. After a moment, just as he predicted, the tantrum stopped and Blake slowly rolled over. He sat up at the edge of the bed and looked directly at where Raze’s invisible presence was standing.

“That took longer than expected,”
Blake said telepathically.

Sure enough. The puppet had a hold of the strings.

Raze wished he had brought his body along with him so he could beat the crap out of the little shit. But he needed to stay focused so he carefully put that energy back in check.

Blake raised an eyebrow at Raze.
“I see you’re finally getting a grip on your anger issues. The challenge has been good for you then.”

Raze was both surprised by Blake being able to read his signature fluctuations as well as the massive balls he apparently grew overnight. Blake had never presented himself as anything more than a weak, lonely, and petulant schoolboy. He had a lot of nerve speaking to Raze with such superiority.

“I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”

There was no way Raze was going to allow this brat access to his thoughts. He secured his field into a flat line and decided now that Blake was back inside his body; he could grab ahold of his frequency so he could keep his mind’s eye on him from now on. Raze turned on his receptors and tuned in to Blake’s space.

“That isn’t gonna work,”
Blake said, smugly.

Raze ignored him and zeroed in. Blake’s field was emitting only a dense, stagnant black, but just as Raze went to file the signature into his memory centers, the hueless energy shifted and a jumble of static jammed Raze’s receptors.