Dream So Dark: Book 2, Dream Maker Series (Dream Makers Series)

by Quinn Loftis

  “I must be going,” he told Raphael and Emma. “I will return to check on you. Raphael will be with you.”

  “I will be fine, Sandman,” Emma said. “I am here for a purpose, I know, but I’m not sure what that purpose is just yet. Perhaps there is someone here that I need to meet, someone who needs something.”

  “What do you mean?” Raphael asked, his brow pinched together. Dair had noticed the angel was becoming much more expressive the longer he spent with Emma.

  “I don’t really know,” she answered honestly. “I just feel like I’m supposed to be here, at least for now.”

  Dair could not deny the possibility that her feeling was correct. It was well known that the Creator used seemingly insignificant people for impossible things. He just wished that the young girl didn’t have to experience these troubles in order to fulfill the Creator’s purposes.

  “Take care of her,” he said to Raphael before letting the draw of his next assignment pull him away from the house and his friends.

  “She has the protection of a warrior angel.” The messenger demon growled.

  Lucifer sat upon a throne of rotting corpses. They writhed in agony beneath him, and their screams were like a beautiful symphony to his twisted ears. To literally sit on the Creator’s children was the sweetest kind of revenge.

  The demon ruler slammed his fist down on the head of one of the bodies, ignoring the screech that issued from the poor soul. “Why the hell is she so important?” Lucifer snarled. His sharp, pointy teeth snapped together and his eyes glowed an even brighter yellow as his hate for all things human grew.

  “I do have news about the other female,” the demon rasped out as he bowed his head.

  “Spit it out.”

  “The nightmare demon is working. She is terrified to go to sleep.”

  Lucifer’s reptilian lips moved up in a slow, sinister smile. “Yes, little Sarah Serenity.” He purred. “She and that stupid dream weaver have no idea how powerful they are together. The bond of a supernatural with one who has a pure heart is no small thing. We must prevent that bond from deepening.”

  “They already love each other.” The demon spat as though the idea left a horrible taste in his mouth.

  “Love is only part of the bond,” Lucifer snapped. “The Creator designed their joining to be more than just emotions. He designed them to become one flesh. The joining of their bodies creates a bond that none, save the Creator, can sever. Not even I can tear apart such a union.”

  “How do we prevent that?”

  Lucifer growled as he lunged toward the demon. “Must I spell out everything for you pathetic mules? If she is unable to function, then they cannot move forward with their relationship. We need her trapped inside of her own mind—a fear based coma. In simple terms, make her sleep and never wake up. Give her the most horrendous, terrifying, skin crawling nightmares and watch as her mind retreats inside of itself to escape the torture.”

  “What about Brudair?”

  Lucifer flicked his long fingered hand, the nails sharp as talons. He tsked his snake like tongue and said, “Brudair has no power over dark dreams. He may be a weaver of dreams and part of the night, but he cannot control the dreams woven by a demon. He will not be a problem.”

  The demon bowed and then fled Lucifer’s presence as though the fires of hell were on his heels, because they were.

  The demon lord gritted his teeth as he thought about the goodness in the small child. He felt a hand grab his ankle and he looked down to see one of the discarded reaching for him. He pulled his leg free and kicked the corpse in the face, causing skin to slide off like the cooked fat on a piece of meat. They were a burden to him while they lived and now, in their death, they were an annoyance that made him want to burn them all, which he did, frequently. Unfortunately for them, their punishment was eternal. His burning would never kill them, it would simply cause them unending agony.

  He looked at another that was part of his arm rest. He patted the thing’s head—he could no longer determine if it was male or female—and cooed, “Bet you are wishing you had made a different choice while topside. But you didn’t. You chose me. You thought you were just trying to be left alone, but not choosing was never an option. It was all right there in front of you— the truth of the Creator’s love for you miserable, wretched humans. But that was never enough, was it? You wanted more, you wanted proof, well open your damned eyes now.” Lucifer spread out his arms and tilted his head back and bellowed. “Here’s your proof! Here’s the facts that you so desperately needed! Welcome to Hell, something else you did not believe existed.”

  When Dair opened his eyes, he was standing in a dark bedroom. The curtains had been pulled tightly closed, blocking out the dying sun as the day slipped into night. He glanced around the room and noticed floral accents and light colors. The decorative touch of a woman. Nothing in the house indicated the presence of a male resident. He heard a sound from behind him. He turned and saw light seeping through under a closed door. The bathroom, he presumed.

  Dair walked over to a desk sitting across from the modest bed. Papers were scattered across it, along with a stack of large books. Introduction to Criminal Law, one of the titles read. All of the books were related to the law in some way. An I.D. badge bearing the words Kim Merchant, Student, Middleton Law School, lay next to the lamp. All of this was informative, but it didn’t explain why he was here. Then he noticed a letter sitting on top of the pile of papers. It read:

  Dear Dr. Pimberton,

  I regret to inform you that this will be my last semester in Middleton Law. While I have enjoyed the past two years, I just cannot see myself spending my life as an attorney. There was a time when I truly felt it was what I was supposed to do, but now I’m not sure. Your mentorship has been invaluable, and while I do not want to disappoint you, I don’t know how to continue on when I am so unsure of my purpose.

  If I am being honest, I feel a little lost. Two years ago, I was so sure that I wanted to be a prosecutor. I knew in my gut it was what I was supposed to do. Now, I can’t even figure out what to wear each day. I feel as though I have lost my way, and I don’t know how to find my way back to the path that was so clear to me at one time.

  I am sorry to have wasted so much of your time, but I truly do appreciate all you have done for me.

  With my sincerest gratitude,

  Kim Merchant

  Dair’s gut clenched at the desperation he could feel pouring off the page. His fingers ran across the handwritten letters and felt the grooves from how hard she had pressed her pen into the paper. This was a woman who was more than unsure. This was a woman who had reached the end of her rope. Something had shaken her so deeply that she no longer understood her place in life. He didn’t possess a full picture in his mind of what the Creator had in store for Kim Merchant, but he felt it was imperative that she finish law school and follow through with becoming a prosecuting attorney.

  He heard the door open and the soft whisper of footsteps against the carpet. Dair waited until he heard her climb in the bed and pull the sheets up around her before turning to face the bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, he stepped to the side of her bed and pressed his unseen hand to her forehead pushing her into a deep sleep. He began weaving the dream together in her mind, captivating her unconscious thoughts so that she felt the emotions of the dream as if she were wide awake. As he pulled together all of the things the Creator had placed in him to relay to her, Dair got a glimpse of her past. It revealed to him why Kim had chosen to pursue a career in law in the first place. Her mother had been abducted and murdered by a serial killer when she was a young child, leaving her and her father to deal with the aftermath of such a horrible tragedy. He finished his part in the creation of the dream and let the woman’s own mind take over.

  As Dair stepped away from the sleeping woman, his heart wept for her. The pain of what she’d endured as a child could have destroyed her, but instead, it had built her into the determined, caring wom
an she was. He hoped that she would feel the pull back to the Creator’s plan and that she would not listen to the lies of the enemy. It was apparent from what he’d seen in her mind that something untrue had been planted in her mind. These lies had caused her to doubt herself and her purpose.

  “Be strong, Kim Merchant,” he spoke into the darkness. “Be strong and take your place in history.”

  He left her, the heaviness inside of him making him desire the light that Serenity brought him. Dair appeared at the entrance of the hospital and took his time walking in, needing to gather himself before he saw her. He did not want to drag her down with more sorrow than she’d already been contending with.

  As he pushed the door to her room opened, he watched as her eyes opened. The bright orbs lit up when they saw him, and the smile that spread across her face pushed out all of the darkness that clung to him.

  “Hey,” Serenity said softly.

  “Hey,” he responded as he shut the door behind him.

  “You okay?”

  Dair sat on the bed next to her, leaned down, pushed a kiss to her forehead, then pressed his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I am now.”

  “Rough night?”

  Dair sighed. He didn’t want to tell her about Emma’s living circumstances, but, at the same time, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate being kept in the dark.

  “I visited Emma and Raphael,” he finally said,

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “I wish I could tell you no,” Dair said. “But, yes, it’s bad. I don’t understand how humans can choose to live that way.”

  Serenity tugged on his arm, pulling him so he was forced to extend his body next to hers. He wanted to hold her desperately, but he was afraid of hurting her.

  “I’d rather hurt than not have your arms around me,” she told him as if she’d read his mind.

  He obliged her. If he was honest with himself, he knew he could deny her nothing.

  “As for humans, yes we all have a choice on how we choose to live. But the problem is poverty, poor choices, and laziness, become generational qualities. They are passed on from parent to child. Sometimes, someone breaks out and actually makes something of their lives, but all too often they just continue the cycle.”

  “It seems like, over the centuries, humans have gotten lazier and more complacent,” Dair said as he thought back over the many lifetimes he’d existed. “Technology has its perks, but it does nothing for people’s willingness to do physical labor in any form.”

  Serenity laughed. “I can agree with you there. But we have our positive attributes too, you know.” She poked his side in retaliation for his harsh judgment.

  Dair ran his eyes from her face down her body. The hospital blanket was tucked tightly around her, outlining her feminine form. “I’m well aware of your positive attributes, Princess,” he told her, his voice dropping a little deeper.

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “Growing bold, Brudair?” she asked with a single brow arched up at him.

  He shrugged. “I only speak truth. You are exceptionally beautiful, with an equally impressive figure. And you’re smart and funny and kind, which only serves to make the outside even more attractive. You really should be commending me on my self-control.”

  “Is that right?” she asked coyly.

  He nodded.

  “Well then, Sandman.” Her voice was a purr that did funny things to his stomach. “Let me be the first to tell you how proud I am that you haven’t stripped me bare and ravished me.”

  It was Dair’s turn to flush. The last thing he needed, when he already struggling to keep his hands to himself, was Serenity talking about being stripped bare.

  “You okay?” she asked him with a knowing smile.

  Dair leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Minx,” he whispered against them before running his tongue across her bottom lip. She gasped and he took the opportunity to kiss her more deeply. Dair groaned as he drank in her taste. He could kiss her every day, all day and still it would never be enough.

  When she pulled back, her eyes were still closed and she seemed to be attempting to get her breathing under control He understood her struggle because his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession as he battled his own desire for her. How did humans endure this courtship stuff? “How do people in love keep from giving into their lust?” he asked before he could think to stop himself.

  “Most don’t,” she answered. “We live in a ‘do what makes you feel good’ society. We’re all guilty of it at one time or another,” she admitted. “But sex is definitely one of the more indulged in ‘feel good’ activities.”

  “Do you find it hard, to refrain?” He asked, needing to know if she felt half as what he felt for her.

  “Dair, if I didn’t have a bullet wound I was healing from, we would be in a much more precarious situation at the moment because my restraint is running thin.”

  He smiled.

  “Don’t smile at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re a child who discovered Santa Claus was real.”

  “I was thinking my smile was more along the lines of, my girlfriend thinks I’m hot and wants to take advantage of me.”

  She blushed again and tucked her face into his neck. Dair didn’t know whether to revel in the feeling or groan at the torture her breath on his skin was causing. After a few minutes, she yawned. “You need to get some sleep,” he whispered.

  “Don’t’ leave me, please,” she said sounding a little more desperate than he liked.

  Dair tilted her chin up with his finger tips and stared down into her eyes. “You have me, Serenity, always. I would chain myself to your side if I could.”

  “I’ll settle for you holding me while I sleep.”

  “I can do that.” He pressed a slow kiss to her lips and then tucked her body tightly to his. She fit him in all the right places. “Sleep well, my love.”

  Chapter Three

  Dreaming about an empty book means you’ve yet to tell your story, and there is someone who needs to hear it.

  Emma jumped as the front door slammed, and the shouting that had recently begun inside the house continued out into the front yard. The little closet she called home did not offer any type of insulation against the noises made by others in the house. She could hear everything. Much more than she wanted to hear. Earlier that day, Reginald Jones had informed her that he would be hosting his weekly card game that evening. She had just made them both a sandwich which consisted of stale bread and cheese that she wasn’t sure should have been consumed by anyone, considering its sour smell. But it wasn’t like there were many choices in his bleak kitchen. The sparse pantry held several cans of potted meat, whatever that was, tuna fish that had expired around a year ago, and a bag of pork rinds. The pork rinds were the only thing in the kitchen not past its expiration date.

  Emma made it a point to eat quickly and then head back to her closet, lest she be present when Reginald’s guests arrive. But as she was opening the door, he’d yelled at her to keep quiet and stay out of their hair. She didn’t bother telling him not to be concerned. She’d rather eat slugs than become acquainted with any of his friends. Emma simply nodded her head and closed the door behind her. Raphael had stayed close by, quietly observing and mostly frowning. She imagined if Mr. Jones could see the angel standing in his dilapidated house, he wouldn’t be so keen on snapping at her.

  “Perhaps you should do your nightly business in the restroom now, while they are distracted by their disagreement,” Raphael suggested from where he sat in the corner.

  She grinned at him. “You look like an angry cat that has been stuffed into a box much too small for him.”

  Raphael raised a single brow at her. “The man is ridiculous for thinking this is adequate lodging for a child.”

  Emma raised her shoulders up to her ears and lifted her hands palms up. “Can’t change it, so the
re’s no sense in complaining about it.”

  “Sometimes your inability to frown upon your circumstances is annoying,” he grumbled.

  She laughed. “You’d rather I whine and complain?”

  He stared back at her, appearing to think about her question, and then let out a sigh. “I suppose not. At some point, I am sure that would become annoying as well. Now, off with you.” He motioned to the closed door. “I will make sure you are not noticed by the fool who is your temporary guardian or any of his ragamuffin associates.”

  Emma grabbed the few personal items the DHS woman had provided for her and opened the door slowly. She peeked out. When she didn’t see any signs of Mr. Jones, she scurried to the bathroom that was diagonally across from her room. She quickly took care of her business and then hurried back to the safety, precarious as it was, of her closet.

  Once back behind the closed door, she spread out her blanket and placed her pillow at one end of the space. Emma laid down on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “I sort of feel like Harry Potter,” she said.

  “Who is Harry Potter?”

  “He’s a fictional character in a book,” Emma explained. “He has to live with his aunt and uncle because his parents are killed by an evil wizard. They make him live in the closet under the stairs. They’re mean to him, but they don’t have dubious acquaintances or put him in dangerous situations.”

  “So you have it worse than this Harry Potter?” Raphael asked.

  “I guess in some ways. But he does have a very powerful, evil wizard that wants to destroy him and anyone else good in the world.”