Dreamonologist
Page 33
Silence.
“Where is my wife?”
Silence.
“What’s going on in London? Did anyone stop the vampires?”
Silence.
My mouth was bone dry, but I was desperate to know what was going on outside. Had the Sons managed to stop the vampire outbreak, or had they focused on rounding up innocent attuned? What of the attuned who had joined us in the cemetery? Had Jack escaped? Was Detective Badger even still alive? Most importantly, what had my wife done—and had it been successful?
At least I knew what I had done. I had made a choice. It might have been the right choice for the world, but I knew in my gut that it had been the wrong choice for me. Dana considered loyalty a virtue; she lived that tenet, and I’d betrayed her. She hadn’t exactly been honest with me. For example, “I can do magic” might have been something that she’d want to mention to me, but hey—pot, kettle, black. Still, I hoped that Dana’s actions had been effective—if she really had helped our baby, then at least something good had come out of this mess. I—
“Thank you, Mr. Adler. We have some follow-up questions for you,” a robotic voice issued from speakers in each upper corner of the room, interrupting my train of thought with a familiar phrase. “Could you please—” The voice cut off in midsentence. Another, familiar, voice spoke in the background: “…we must find out, or the master will…not be pleased with us.” There was some more chatter in the background, but I couldn’t make it out over the pounding in my ears. Who had been speaking? I racked my brains and realized that it had been the Chapter Master; but if that was so, then which master had he been talking about? I strained to hear anything else, but after a couple of seconds the speakers cut out, and there was just the sound of my breathing.
I was exhausted, and even the excitement of the last few minutes couldn’t keep me awake. My head started to nod, and a distant part of my exhausted mind registered that no one had shocked me recently—then the goddamned wall to my right exploded, my head jerked up, and I got a mouthful of dust.
I couldn’t see anything for long seconds, and my heart pounded a million miles an hour as I thought about all of the people or things that might be able to smash down walls.
“Mr. Adler?” a male voice asked.
“Yes,” I coughed.
“He’s here!” the man shouted, and then some heavy-duty lights cut through the obscuring gray cloud. I could see a man decked out in counterterrorism gear, including a bulletproof vest, polycarbonate shield, and a 9mm pistol. More officers came in behind him, most of them carrying some variant of AR-15 carbine assault rifles.
“Mr. Adler, we’re going to get you out of here,” the man with the shield said.
“Who are you?” I asked, my head spinning with the sudden change.
“They’re with me,” said a received English accent. “It took quite a while, but we managed to track you down using some stray hairs from your apartment and put together this rescue mission,” Detective Chief Inspector James Badger said.
“What is ‘a while’?” I asked.
Badger limped into the room. There was something wrong with his leg, and his hair had a lot more gray in it than before. He took off his Coke-bottle-lensed glasses and wiped off dust. “Err…eighteen months,” he said without looking up at me.
I felt my stomach drop, and my mouth went even drier, which I hadn’t thought possible. I knew that I’d been locked up for a while, but a year and a half? I pushed down my panic. “And who is ‘we’?” I wheezed as a couple of the armed police set about unfastening my shackles.
“That would be me,” said a high-pitched, almost squeaky female voice that I didn’t recognize.
“And me,” said one that I did.
“Hello, Mia. Would you mind introducing you to your friend?” I said.
“I’m Cynthia Redderton—Jack’s sister.” I could see through the hole in the wall that she was a diminutive blonde in her midthirties with a runner’s build and the piercing blue eyes of a hawk. “And I’m hoping that you can help us find some missing people.”
“Which people?” I said, confused, and then gasped as my hands came free of the chains and I immediately cramped up. An armed officer got under each shoulder and supported me as they helped me out of the room.
“All of them. The Sons have taken all of my family,” Cynthia said.
“And almost all of mine,” Mia added.
◆◆◆
I was hustled out of the building and into a waiting armored car, which took me to a safe house. I didn’t get a chance to ask Badger how he was alive, where they were taking me, or what the plan was before I was overtaken by exhaustion. I did get to deal with not one but two nightmares: a car crash, and someone being chased by a shadowy figure. When I woke up, I wasn’t surprised to find that the wound in my side had finally stopped bleeding. I was surprised by the envelope that had appeared under my pillow. It was addressed to me, and when I opened it up, there was a passport with my picture on it, a thousand dollars, a plane ticket to Chicago, and a photo. The photo showed my family. All of my family. My mom, my dad, my sister, her kids, Dana, Olivia—and a perfect, tiny red-haired girl in a frilly pink dress. I felt a lump in my throat, and my heart was a jackhammer as I turned the picture over. It read: Julian, come home.
The End.
Damn, that was harsh wasn’t it?
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To find out what dreams may come, and whether or not Julian ever makes it back to his family, then look out for Book 4 of The Dreamwalker Chronicles:
The Silent Child
Coming Summer 2020
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About the Author
Gregory Pettit graduated from the University of Wisconsin – Madison in 2005 and promptly moved to London to live with his Finnish wife. In the intervening years, two children have somehow appeared in his home; they are fed and watered regularly. When not working, writing, or travelling, he scours London for the best rib joints, and attends as many Ealing Trailfinders and NFL games as possible.
Visit Gregory at www.gregorypettit.com, or follow him on Twitter @GregoryRPettit