Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) (23 page)

The scientist looked distracted
and then shrugged his shoulders. ‘We've got some interesting
readings. Fine, take her back now.’ He looked at Jack, but didn't
once bother to acknowledge Celeste.

Jack stiffened even more at
her side, one hand curled into a tight fist, the muscles along his
arm bulging from the effort. Finally, he turned to her and softened
his expression, motioning her forward.

As Celeste walked through
that room, she was determined not to look at a single person. She
kept her eyes on the ground before her, staring at her white sand
shoes. She found herself reflecting on the canvas with intense
interest. She'd never felt emotions like this, and she wasn't sure
what they meant. They were a strange mix of fear, anger, disgust,
and pity. A combination which made her skin prickle with cold and
made her nauseous.

The steady pace and beat of
Jack's footfall reassured her, and when they were away from that
room, she let out a resounding, shaking sigh. He turned to her, but
didn't stop walking. He kept shaking his head. ‘I'm so sorry, I
didn't know they would do that. I'm so sorry, Celeste.’

She wanted to say it was
okay, but she couldn't bring herself to say it, because it wasn't
okay.

On the helicopter, she'd
resigned herself to the fact she would be stuck with Knight, but
she hadn't imagined it would be as horrible as this.

It wasn't until they'd turned
down another corridor that Celeste was able to speak. However, all
she could do was mumble a simple and stupid question: 'what time is
it?’

Of all the pressing concerns
that filled her mind, the time was wasn't one of them.

‘
About 2100 hrs – 9 PM,’ Jack
clarified quickly as he checked his watch. ‘Look, Celeste,’ his
steps slowed, ‘I'm sorry they did that to you, but understand,
they're under a lot of pressure. It may seem cruel and
harsh—’

‘
But to them the risk is worth
it,’ she filled in. Her throat felt parched and itchy, and she
struggled through a lumpy swallow. ‘I understand, Jack, I really
do. This is a horrible situation, and it's forcing you to look for
horrible solutions. I don't . . . blame them,’ she
forced herself to say those words. ‘But that was horrible,’ she
added, voice breaking with emotion.

Jack winced as he looked at her,
chest crumpling as his shoulders shifted in with a twitch. ‘Yes, it
was horrible.’ He didn't add anything further, he didn't try to
justify what had happened to her; he simply agreed with her. It was
about the nicest thing he could have done, because it told Celeste
she wasn't overreacting.

It also told her she could
trust Jack, and she needed to trust him. She wanted someone by her
side that could understand her.

Celeste had spent most of
her life forcing herself not to believe in monsters. She'd come to
understand the psychological forces that made people demonize each
other. She understood that when people were involved in protracted
threatening situations, like war or abuse, the tendency was to
paint their enemy as some evil, inhuman force. But if you did that,
you'd never find peace.

The irony was, of course,
the Yaoguai were demons. Still, Celeste couldn't shake free of that
moral belief, even if it sounded mad to hold compassion for a
monster.

‘
W-what happens n-now?’ she
asked, the question forming slowly in her mind, her words cut off
and stuttering.

‘
You stay here, Celeste,’ Jack
answered, voice almost a whisper. ‘I'm sorry.’

It was the way he said it
more than the words that made Celeste suddenly clamp up with
fear.
He's
not lying, is he?
She
thought quickly. She pressed her fingers into her palms and rubbed
them as hard as she could, the corners of her fingernails dragging
over her sweaty flesh.

Jack noted the move. ‘Celeste,
you're not in any trouble or anything, we
just . . . ' he stopped.

She knew enough about the
situation to realize he couldn't promise her anything. He wasn't in
control here. Fair enough, he did seem to head up Squire, but
Squire was not Knight, and whatever protection and promises Jack
could give, he was only one man.

She shook her head, the ends of
her fringe trailing over her eyes. ‘I don't really think you know
what will happen,’ she admitted. It sounded harsh to point it out,
but she said it because she couldn't kid herself. ‘I don't think
anyone in Knight does yet. I think they'll keep me here
indefinitely until they find out why those Yaoguai are afraid of
me. Then,’ she shrugged her shoulders.

Jack swallowed, his Adam's apple
brushing against the collar of his shirt. ‘I'll try my hardest to
make sure you're safe,’ he tried again.

Now she could believe that.
It was one thing to promise she would be going back to her normal
life – and it was one he probably couldn't keep. Yet she could
easily accept that he would do everything in his power to help her.
No promises, just help.

She gave a very nervous
smile in return. By the time she brushed her hair from her face,
her smile widening, they were already back at her cell. She looked
at the door as one of the guards next to it grabbed at the keys in
his pocket.

‘
Am I just going to stay in there
until they need me next?’ she shrugged at the door as the guard
pushed it open, the hinges groaning.

‘
Look, I'll see if I can get you
something to read,’ Jack tried.

Something to read. She was
stuck in a shadowy Government agency base, being used to scare
monsters, with only the prospect of flicking through some dull
magazines for solace and entertainment. This wasn't how Celeste had
imagined her six months of housesitting would go. She'd thought
there would be a lot of fun, lots of time on her private beach, and
some nice languid evenings drinking iced tea in the garden,
savoring the night in all its velvety indigo and coal
blackness.

She lingered in the doorway
before she walked in, and she stared at Jack. She didn't look at
his face though; for some reason she was stuck on his arms. He had
a very powerful build, and now she'd seen him in combat, she could
appreciate he knew exactly how to use that power.

Though she wasn't the
romantic type, she suddenly got the rather whimsical impression
that collapsing into those arms would somehow make the situation
better.

But it wouldn't. And it
would probably surprise the hell out of both Jack and the
guards.

So Celeste walked in
listening to the door close behind her. She kept the image of
Jack's arms in her mind, and kept trying to imagine just how it
would feel to have them wrapped around her.

Whenever she'd faced
frightening things in the past, especially her nightmares from
childhood, the only thing that had calmed her down was a quick hug
from a family member. There was something very reassuring about
human tactile contact – something that couldn't be conveyed through
words alone. However, getting a hug from Jack was probably out of
the question right now.

She let her eyes gently
close, her eyelashes flicking against the ends of her fringe as
they did so. She clamped a hand on her belly, spreading her fingers
wide, the press of her skin hot and reassuring.

She could deal with this;
she would have to.

Jack West

He hated what they were
doing. He could understand it on one level, but it was still
sending him crazy.

It wasn't as if he'd never
seen Knight do things like this; three years of working for them
had told him they were ruthless when they had to be. Technically,
what they were doing to Celeste wasn't that horrible. Getting her
to walk across the room and touch a Yaoguai cage was hardly the
worst thing they could do. The Yaoguai had been contained, and
they'd assured correct security countermeasures in case things had
gone pear shaped.

Still, it had been her
expression. She'd hated every second of it. Jack could appreciate
why – the Yaoguai may be monsters, but the sound of something in
such distress plucked at the strings of anyone's heart.

Though Jack hated thinking
about it, he knew the costs of working for an agency like Knight.
It hardened you.

The longer you fought your
enemy, the more it took from you, the more you hated it, and the
more that hate twisted around until your enemy deserved only one
thing: destruction. It was a feeling that twisted around your gut,
burning up your reason and igniting your rage.

Jack always stopped himself
from thinking too much about the moral pitfalls of the war he'd
been pressed into. He didn't have the time to question – neither
did he have the luxury. If he stopped fighting the Yaoguai, then
people would die. The equation was that simple.

Still, Celeste had frozen,
obvious nausea gripping her, as she'd approach the Yaoguai. The
sight of her sickened, pallid expression would stick in his head
for days. It would be there the next time he closed his eyes,
haunting him like a ghost never to be put to rest.

Celeste Cross

They'd finally moved her
from her cell to something that could almost be described as a
room. It had carpet, it had a bed, it had a table, a chair, and
thankfully a TV. It didn't have a computer though, as no doubt
Knight was paranoid about her blogging about her experience, or
something equally as ridiculous.

Jack had come good on his
promise of improving her living condition, and every single time
she saw him, she couldn't help but thank him for all he'd done. It
really did feel as if he was her only friend and ally
here.

Her room felt like it was
smack bang in the middle of the building. It had no windows. It was
just a concrete block. Celeste wondered how long it would take her
to go mad. She didn't have anything to look forward to but tests
and TV.

If she didn't have her
dreams and meditation, she would have snapped on the first
day.

She kept forcing herself to
take the objective point of view. She kept reminding herself she
didn't know enough about the situation and it was too early to
judge how it would turn out. It was a constant battle, but the more
she fought it, the more she stayed in control.

Celeste didn't really like
TV, but now she found herself flopped on her bed for most of the
day, eyes glued to it. She'd become engrossed by the strangest of
programs. She even planned her day around them. There was this
cake-decorating program in the morning, followed by some cartoons,
followed by the news, followed by a serial documentary on boats,
and of course, there were the sappy, made-for-TV midday
movies.

A couple of times she'd
noted how strange it was that she was prisoner in a Government
facility, and all they were making her do was watch midday
movies.

Jack did come to visit her,
but it was getting less frequent, and she knew it couldn't
continue. He was stationed in Gresham City, right? Though she
didn't have much of an idea where Knight Headquarters was, it had
to be across the other side of the State from Jack's base. One day
he'd go back there, and presumably he wasn't going to take a
three-hour flight each day just to see her.

Celeste lay on her bed, her
back and head propped up, her bare feet slowly kicking over the
carpet as she watched a program on house restoration. Suddenly she
heard a knock at the door. She didn’t bother to get up; if someone
wanted to come in, they jolly well came in, and there was nothing
she could do to stop them.

There was another knock before
the door opened a crack. ‘Can I come in?’

It was Jack.

She sat up straight, the move so
quick her hair flicked over her face. ‘Yes, yes, sure.’

He walked into the room,
wearing his usual army fatigues. She'd only seen him out of them
once. That was okay – he seemed made for them. They just
accentuated the length and outlines of his muscles.

He smiled at her.

She returned it, standing up
quickly, neatening her clothes with several quick pats.

‘
How are you holding up?’ He took
a hesitant step through the door.

She turned to the one chair
in the room and dumped the clothes and books she'd piled on top
onto the floor and gestured to it. Jack walked over and sat on it
heavily. He'd closed the door behind him, and she imagined the only
reason he was allowed to do that was that he was a
six-foot-something soldier and she was a small woman.

She sat on the edge of her
bed, pulling her hair over her shoulder and running her fingers
through it quickly.

‘
You're probably going mad,’ he
noted quietly, placing a hand on the table before him and tracing a
finger along the wood-grain. ‘Sorry about this.’ He kept on saying
that. At any opportunity he would apologize to her, as if this was
entirely his fault.

In reality, it was all her
bloody fault. Okay, it had been accidental, but if she hadn't taken
the wrong turn to Gresham City Base, she wouldn't be in this
pickle.

‘
You probably have a lot of
questions about what's going to happen to you.’ Jack stared down at
the wood-grain, and then finally looked at her.