Dreamfire (39 page)

“Ian said we could, someday. But then he died.…”

Ian had been intensely protective of Haley. When he and Josh had dreamed about the future, getting married, having their own home, Ian had always insisted on a little guesthouse for Haley to live in. She didn't doubt that his protectiveness had gone far enough to exclude her from information that might put Haley in danger.

If he's really psychic, then my scroll's really fake,
Josh thought.
Which is good, because it means no one's opened the real one. Anything could be written in it.…

Suddenly, she felt panicked, like a restless child who had been sick for days and could endure it no longer. It must have shown on her face, because Will said, “Josh?”

“Can I talk to Haley alone?” she asked.

“Ah, I guess. I mean, yes, of course. I'll be in my room.”

Josh waited until he had left, closing the door behind himself, to sink onto her bed.

“Is Will in my real scroll?” she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. “Is there an apprentice in the real scroll?”

Haley's face softened. He shook his head.

“Oh my god,” she whispered with each breath. “Oh my god. Shit.
Oh my god.
”

“Young Ben made the apprentice up,” Haley whispered back. “Then he sent Schaffer over here that night. Only Schaffer was late, 'cause he got lost.”

“
Why?
Why would Ben do that?”

Haley shrugged. “Schaffer's not a very good dream walker. Ben thought you could help.”

“That's crazy. That's ridiculous. Ben can't just make things up! And now Will is my apprentice because Schaffer doesn't know right from left?”

Haley tilted his head and asked, “Do you mind?”

It was such a bizarre question that Josh almost laughed. She had been a stressed-out mess for the last six weeks—of course she minded!

And yet … she kept thinking of the talk she'd had with Will in the limo. It had never felt so good to pour her heart out to anyone. And she couldn't deny that they'd had fun opening the window together, or that she might have gone on kissing him all night if he hadn't stopped her. And God bless Deloise for ordering pizza, because Schaffer would have been an infuriating student, but Will was amazing, and she actually felt really proud of how far he'd come.

She imagined what would happen if she got up, marched into the bedroom next door, and told Will the truth. His belief that he didn't belong in her life, that he wasn't wanted in the dream-walker world—it would only get worse. Josh knew he'd insist on going back to the county home. Her father would continue to send him money—which Will would refuse. All the trust he and Josh had worked for and fought for and built together would be destroyed. Every time they'd bump into each other at school, the combination of tension, guilt, and resentment on both sides would be unbearable. Josh would go into the Dream and he wouldn't be around to give her brilliant psychological insights and nervous backup. She would be lonely. She hadn't realized how lonely she had been until Will arrived.

All her thoughts fell silent in the face of a single, overwhelming truth:

I don't want him to leave.

She finally had a reason to send him away. It was a perfect, irrefutable reason—the sort that she had longed for six weeks ago—and she wasn't going to use it. Whether or not fate had planned their relationship, she was grateful for it.

Josh nodded resolutely. This was one secret she would gladly keep from him forever.

“I don't mind at all,” she said, and laughed. “But what about everything else in the scroll?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Part of her did. Part of her felt that, now that she'd read the fake one, she might as well at least know how much of it was true. But in the end, that would be the same as opening the real scroll, even if she only read part of it. So she just shook her head.

“That's what I thought,” Haley said.

He was talking more, she noticed.
He must know so many secrets,
she thought.
It must be hard not to blurt them all out. No wonder he stays so quiet.

“You could have told me about being psychic,” she said. “I would have helped, if I could.”

“I know.”

Haley didn't give her a reason why he hadn't told her, but Josh already knew. Ian had once told her that—no matter how much he loved her—he would always be loyal to Haley first, because Haley needed Ian more than Josh did. Ian hadn't hidden Haley's secret because he didn't trust Josh; he'd done it because, when it came to his brother, he didn't take chances.

“Ian loved you a lot,” Josh told Haley.

Haley smiled sadly, but he looked far away. “He thought I was weak.”

Josh tried not to let Haley see her wince; Ian
had
thought Haley was weak. “He thought I was weak too. He was always trying to toughen me up.”

“You're tough now,” Haley offered.

“Am I?”

He nodded. “You're brave. You're strong. You're a good teacher.” He smiled again, less sadly. “You're a good friend.”

“I want to be.” She couldn't remember the last time she had sat and just talked with Haley. The last time they had been alone together, they'd found Ian and Winsor in the woods, their clothing hanging from tree branches. Josh had frozen, unable to look away, unable to inhale, until Haley had taken her hand and drawn her away.

Josh shook the image from her mind. “If you ever need to talk, about the psychic stuff,” she told Haley, “I'm here.”

Haley reached out and hugged Josh, astonishing her. She couldn't recall Haley ever spontaneously hugging her. “He loved you a lot too,” Haley said. “Even at the end.”

Josh was still trying to make sense of his words when Haley stood up and walked toward the door. If he understood that Ian was dead, if he could reflect on it, why …

“Wait a sec,” Josh said.

Haley hesitated before turning back, as if he knew what she would ask.

“Why do you pretend to be Ian?”

His expression was unreadable; too many emotions like too many beams of colored light shining on a single spot. “I don't,” he said finally. He voice had dropped to a soft, broken halt. “It's just that—sometimes—Ian gets confused—
he thinks this is his body
.”

 

Thirty-one

The next day,
Snitch got caught.

News of the arrest shot through the house, and within moments everyone was crammed into the first-floor living room watching the world's most exclusive cable channel, DWTV.

Even with her eyes fixed on the television, Josh was aware that the room looked strange—the carpet had been replaced that morning, but it was not quite the same shade as it had been before, and an old living-room set from the basement had been dragged upstairs. The drapes on the windows were missing, which reminded her that Kerstel and her father—who had spent a good six months trying to pick out those curtains due to Lauren's complete indifference—probably didn't know about Snitch's arrest.

Laurentius had come home for a few hours of sleep and then returned to the hospital, where Kerstel continued to improve. During that time, he had thoroughly berated his elder daughter for kicking her elderly grandfather in the chest. But Josh had told her side of the story convincingly enough that she got the initial punishment—a month's grounding—knocked down to being made responsible for making sure everyone ate breakfast while Kerstel was in the hospital.

“No way!” Will said when she told him. “They really do let you off for everything.”

“Seriously,” muttered Deloise, who'd lost a week's allowance after Lauren saw the outfit she'd worn to the dance.

Winsor's parents were taking turns staying with her; when news of Snitch's capture reached the house, Saidy was at the hospital and Alex was home, leaning forward out of the big armchair to get a better look at the TV.

The hospital televisions certainly didn't get DWTV. It only aired on televisions that had been carefully modified to pick up what even SETI would think was pure static, and it was run entirely by dream walkers. Josh had always been disappointed that the programming resembled C-SPAN more than the Discovery Channel, but for news from the dream-walker world, it was the only place to go.

After all, what other station would have reported the arrest of a tall man in a green-black trench coat on charges of anarchistic use of an inter-universal gateway?

The TV screen showed Snitch in steel shackles being dragged down a hallway by two men in Gendarmerie uniforms who strained to force him forward. His gas mask had been removed—curiously, it had been replaced by a white cloth face mask—but he still wore his trench coat, and it looked slick, as if he had just come in from the rain. His glassy black eyes stared vacantly into the camera.

“Is he contagious or something?” Will asked. He was sitting on the couch with Whim and Haley, and Josh was sitting on the floor in front of him, sandwiched between his ankles. She let her hands rest lightly on his shoes, and every so often he gave her shoulders a little squeeze with his knees.

“What's wrong with his eyes?” Alex asked, still watching the TV.

“I don't know,” Whim told his father, “but they creep me the hell out.”

“Whim,” Alex said with a tired sigh that suggested he didn't expect to be heeded, “try to watch the language.”

Josh tried to focus on the reporter's words as he began the story from the top. “For those of you just joining us, one of the elusive criminals known only as the trench-coat men has been caught. He was apprehended at seven thirty-five this evening by Rhianwen Girstelul in Victoria Town.”

“That's right near Charle,” Josh said.

“Near your mom's cabin?” Will asked.

“Yeah,” Josh said, startled by the reminder that Will knew the whole story.

The reporter continued. “Requests for a statement from the man have been denied by the junta until after he's been questioned by the Gendarmerie. When asked why the man's gas mask has been replaced with a sterile mask, junta spokesman Elio Havieratyoti declined to comment.”

“Remind me what the Gendarmerie is?” Will asked, pronouncing the word uncertainly.

“Dream-walker police,” Josh said.

“And our only hope if we ever need to revolt against the junta,” Whim added.

“Whim,” Alex said with another sigh, “try to watch the treason talk.”

“We do know,” the reporter said, “that Ms. Girstelul apprehended the man while he was trying to gas her mother in the backyard of their home.”

The camera zoomed in on a canister with carrying straps sitting on a metal table. Josh heard Haley inhale sharply, and he slid down from the couch to sit next to her on the floor. “Josh,” he whispered. “Josh, look.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, distracted by one of Will's hands weighing on her shoulder. They had been finding little reasons to touch each other all afternoon while pretending that wasn't what they were doing.

Haley tugged the sleeve of her shirt. “No,
look
.”

The camera had panned back to Snitch. “What?” Josh asked, tearing her eyes away to look at Haley.

His breathing was fast and shallow. “That's … that's…” he began. Then his chest heaved as if he might throw up, and he fumbled for his pad and pen.

A second later Josh had the note in her hand. The lack of date and address alone would have told her how important Haley considered the content.

Winsor is in the canister.

She looked at him, speechless. Haley, of course, couldn't bring himself to say anything. He dashed off another note.

GET HER!

Josh climbed to her feet, the notes still in her hand. “Will, you want to help me and Haley make some sandwiches?”

“Sandwiches?” Will asked, but when he looked at her, she widened her eyes at him and he added, “Yeah, let's make everybody sandwiches.”

When the three of them were alone in the kitchen, Josh put the slips of paper into Will's hand. “Read these,” she said, keeping her voice low.

Will's face grew pale as he read the notes. Haley's eyes were wild. His chest throbbed on the verge of hyperventilation. He stood in the kitchen doorway until Will gestured him closer.

“Okay,” Will said to Haley, “it's good that you told us this. Can you breathe a little slower? Josh, would you get him something to drink?”

Josh was willing to accept that Haley had psychic powers, but she didn't feel like she had any idea how to help him deal with them. That was Will's department. She just went to the fridge and poured a cup of the cran-raspberry juice Haley liked.

The glass rattled against Haley's teeth while he gulped. “You're going to help her, right?” he asked. “She's trapped in there. In the canister. It's like a cage.”

“Yes,” Will told him. “Josh and I are going to help.”

Haley nodded. His eyes never left Will's face, and Josh was startled to realize that Haley trusted Will. Something had changed dramatically between them.

“So you're saying that the man in the trench coat, Snitch, put Winsor in the canister?”

“Her
soul
. Her
soul
's in the canister.”

Josh frowned, alarmed by the idea—incredible as it was—of someone messing with Winsor's soul. “Why did they put her soul in the canister?” Will asked.

Haley struggled, more with understanding than with words, it seemed. “She's … fuel? Or … power? I don't know.”

Josh met Will's eyes. “Having her soul in a canister might explain Winsor's coma.”

“It might explain all the CSAD patients' comas,” Will agreed. To Haley, he said, “What do we need to do to help?”