by Abbie Roads
The forest on either side of the car was dead, desiccated, despairing. Her rib cage tightened around her heart and lungs—protecting her vitals from the pummeling they were about to endure.
Gravel crunched and popped under the car tires, drilling into Evanee’s brain with all the annoyance of a jackhammer to the eardrums. The noise was just convenient to blame for her frazzled feelings. The core of her problem resided at the end of the driveway. Matt’s place—the Ohio Institute of Oneirology—a colossal reminder of her shame.
The car pulled around a deep curve in the drive, and the OIO came into sight. Only it didn’t look like a research facility. It looked like a log-cabin mansion had married a fairy tale and they’d had a baby—the OIO.
The house seemed to grow out of the forest as if it were part of the landscape instead of man-made. The structure was as tall as the trees surrounding it and nearly as wide as the clearing it rested in. A deep porch wrapped around the building, hugging the angular curves like a ballerina’s tutu. Windows of all shapes and sizes ornamented the front and sides in organic symmetry. The place was like nothing else.
A sense of awe tried to steal over her, but shame drowned it.
What was she going to say when she saw Matt? What would he say? Her stomach crawled halfway up her throat. She’d never been carsick before, but today might be good day for it. She’d be sure to spew all over Gill’s cushy leather seats and on the carpet, and it’d be awesome if she could aim right at his Ken doll face. What sweet retaliation that would be for forcing her into this interview!
Lathan twisted in the passenger seat, his expression one she’d seen too damned many times since she’d met him—concern. “Explain why you’re ashamed to be going here.”
His words were an arrow directly through her thoughts. Obviously, she wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to be okay with the forthcoming humiliation. She tried to smile, but her execution was off—it felt more like a grimace. “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.” The freckles on his face that she always found so endearing seemed to darken, hardening him. The tattoo on his cheek became menacing. Scary. “Don’t ever lie to me. I’ll know it every time.”
“He’s right. He’s a human lie detector,” Gill chimed in from the front seat.
She felt like slapping the back of Gill’s head, NCIS style. Could he be serious? Could Lathan really be a human lie detector?
“Stop the car.” Lathan spoke like he was in command of a platoon.
Even though they were within sight of the house, Gill jammed on the brakes. Evanee whiplashed forward, then slammed back against the headrest. Jerk. He did that on purpose.
“Spill it.” Lathan’s tone held no room for refusal.
The last bit of her dignity ghosted away. “Remember me telling you about”—Crap. What was she gonna call him with Gill sitting right here?—“my ex?”
“Yeah.” Lathan’s voice sounded cautious.
“His family owns this facility. He lives here.” She hoped Lathan couldn’t hear the dread dripping off each of her words. She didn’t want to be pathetic, even if that’s how she felt.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t give two shits who owns it. You’re still going to the meeting.” Gill whispered the words. “So don’t try to get him to let you out of it.”
The lid on her Can-O-Angry-Woman popped off. She pointed a finger at Gill. “Don’t ever talk to me so quietly that Lathan can’t hear.”
Lathan’s attention snapped to Gill. For a split second, she saw the vulnerable little boy Lathan must’ve once been, but any weakness disappeared behind a shield of menace and a tattoo that threatened blood. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel the shadow monster of Lathan’s anger grow and grow until it engulfed the interior of the car.
Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she couldn’t let Gill talk to her behind Lathan’s back. That’d be like plucking the feathers off an eagle. It would diminish his beauty, his grace, his strength.
She unlocked her seat belt and scooted forward toward Lathan. His attention turned to her. She couldn’t read the exact message his gray eyes sent her, but she could translate enough to know that Gill’s action had been a betrayal. The kind that carved to the bone and took a long time to heal.
“Gill didn’t say anything important. Just that he wanted me to attend the meeting.” She left out any attitude. Didn’t want to make the situation worse. “You know how much I don’t want to be here, but I am here. Maybe the OIO can give me some answers about what’s going on with me, tell me how to make the dreams stop. That would be worth it.”
No words came from Lathan, but he reached for her like a parent reaches into the backseat for a kid. Somehow, she found herself in his lap in the front seat, his nose buried against the skin of her neck. She could hear the rapid sounds of his breathing as he tried to calm the fury—hurt—Gill had caused him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly to her. She sensed the anger shadow fracturing into a thousand harmless fragments. His breathing slowed. His lips brushed her in a gentle kiss that zinged all the way from her neck to her toes and then back up to the top of her head.
Gill didn’t say a word, just shifted the car back into gear and drove them the fifty remaining feet to the massive arch overhanging the front door.
Evanee didn’t let go of Lathan, and he didn’t let go of her until Gill parked the car. Lathan helped her out of the vehicle, then exited himself.
All the anxiety, the shame, the embarrassment she’d felt minutes ago had vanished. Now her number one priority was Lathan. She could handle everything else as long as he was all right.
Lathan tucked her body into his massive one. Her hip just below his, the side of her body touching his, his arm a crossbar of safety across her back. Energy and strength galloped through her system, fortifying her to deal with what was in front of her—Matt’s brother. Dr. Alex Stone.
He waved a welcoming hand from the porch. She was struck by how different the brothers appeared. Both had wide faces with sharp features and the muscular build of a quarterback. That’s where the similarities ended. Matt’s brother had gray hair and wrinkles earned by age, while Matt fought aging with Botox and collagen and plastic surgery.
“Evanee. So nice to meet you.” Dr. Stone’s words sounded friendly. Friendly? Had Matt told his brother about her? She searched the doctor’s face for any hint of deception or mockery. Only honesty stared back at her. Weird.
Dr. Stone turned his attention to Lathan. His tattoo to be exact. “A feather. Usually representing healing. But this one is a blood feather. The most powerful. And it’s broken.” A smile identical to Matt’s, with the left canine tooth slightly overlapping his front tooth, stretched across the doctor’s mouth. “Brilliant symbolism. You must be Lathaniel Montgomery. I’ve heard many things about your exceptional work. You are certainly distinguished in your field. I’m Dr. Stone.”
Distinguished in his field? What was his field? Human lie detector? Real-life James Bond? Maybe. Evanee felt kinda stupid. Everyone knew what Lathan did except her.
The doctor extended his hand to Lathan. As they shook, Dr. Stone examined Lathan’s gloves. Another thing she’d never asked about. Was he a germophobe? He didn’t seem like the type.
“You wear synthetic gloves. Is it by touch that you—?”
“Sir,” Gill interrupted, stretching his hand out to the older man—an invitation only rudeness would refuse. “I’m Gill Garrison. We spoke on the phone.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Garrison. Very nice to put a face with the voice.” Dr. Stone pumped Gill’s hand, then stepped back and gestured toward the front door. “Welcome to the Ohio Institute of Oneirology. And my home. I’ll give you the penny tour before we get started.”
They followed Dr. Stone through the magnificent arch
ed doorway that she could imagine more on a castle portal than a mansion in Ohio. She expected to see Matt inside but couldn’t muster up the nerves to care. Lathan was with her. She could handle anything.
But no one was there. Only a vast and spacious space that reminded her of a cathedral. The vaulted ceiling spanned up, up, up, so far up it could almost classify as part of the sky. The room—but dear God, it was so much larger than the word room implied—was decorated with cozy seating areas that made her yearn to curl up with a good book and read away an entire afternoon.
To the left was a wide-open gourmet kitchen that looked straight out of a magazine. Straight ahead on the other side of the room was a spiral staircase leading to a second-floor loft that overlooked the great room. On either side of the loft, two open-to-below hallways ran along a balcony with three doors on either side. Bedrooms, she supposed.
“I designed the place myself. I wanted my home and the Institute to be under the same roof. Makes for a pleasant commute in the mornings.”
“If dream research doesn’t work out for you, I think you might have a bright future as an architect.” Gill’s voice was filled with the same wonder Evanee felt.
“Makes my place look the size of a Cracker Jack box,” Lathan said. “My whole house could fit in this room. Twice.”
“I was simply trying to design a place worthy of the woman I loved.” Dr. Stone looked around his home. Love remembered shone in his eyes.
“Xander’s mom?” Evanee couldn’t help but ask. She’d gone to school with Xander, but they’d run in separate circles. Hell, she’d had no circle.
Dr. Stone’s face clouded over with sadness. “No.” He spoke the word on a breath. “Follow me.” He turned and crossed the expanse of living space.
Gill gave her the why-the-fuck-did-you-ask-him-that look. She stuck her tongue out at him.
They followed Dr. Stone through the house, then down a set of winding stairs to what should’ve been a basement, but wasn’t. At the bottom of the steps was a reception area. Dr. Stone faced their little group.
Did Gill tell him about Lathan’s hearing problems? Or did the doctor just prefer to be looking at the people he spoke to?
“We formed the OIO forty-five years ago when no one else was studying dreams because they were believed to simply be a throwaway function of the brain. We were pioneers. Still are. Only now is the scientific community beginning to study what we’ve devoted nearly a half century to.”
The doctor stopped at a doorway. Inside the room, a metal table was positioned under a light, and medical machines lined the walls. “This is our surgical suite. We really don’t need one, but to be classified as a medical research facility, we had to comply with basic standards.”
He showed them a sleep lab that looked exactly like a fancy bedroom, except for the medical apparatuses flanking the bed. And then ushered them into his office.
Half the room looked like every office Evanee had ever been in, with bookshelves and a desk with two chairs in front of it. The other half was an inviting living room with a couch and chairs separated by a coffee table. Natural light flowed into the room from rectangular windows set high in the wall, just above ground level. Even though the day was overcast, the play of light inside the room wasn’t cold or harsh, but serene.
She and Lathan sat on the couch. During the entire tour, he’d kept his arm around her, and even now while sitting, he held her tightly against him.
Gill and Dr. Stone took the chairs across from them.
“So Evanee, Mr. Garrison has told me a little about your experience, but I want to hear it from you.”
Her face suddenly blazed like she’d been in the sun all day without sunscreen. A bead of sweat formed above her lip. She swiped at it. What she was about to say—to a doctor—would make her sound certifiable. “You’re going to think I’ve cracked up and send me on a winter vacation to a padded cell at the nuthouse.”
“Evanee, I assure you that in forty-five years of researching dreams, I’ve heard it all. There’s nothing you can say that will surprise or shock me.”
Lathan shifted away from her to see her face when she spoke. She missed his touch, the courage it gave her. Like he’d read her mind, he reached out and took her hand. She pushed her fingers between his and held on tight. It was going to be a crazy ride. While her body was aimed toward Dr. Stone, her face was turned to Lathan. No way would she have a conversation and intentionally leave him out of it.
She told the doctor about the first dream. And then the second one.
Dr. Stone listened. Really listened. His brows were drawn together over his eyes in an expression of intense concentration. He never once interrupted.
When Evanee finished, she drew in a deep breath. She felt like she hadn’t inhaled since she started talking.
“I want to make sure I understand,” Dr. Stone said. “The objects were given to you in the dream, and you had them with you when you awakened?”
Why didn’t he sound disbelieving? He should be telling her she was full of shit. Like Gill had the first time she’d said it. “Yes. But I know that doesn’t make logical sense.”
“What happened after you woke up and realized what you held?”
“I freaked.”
A mild smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “After you freaked.”
Lathan answered for her. “She passed out. Both times. Was out about ten minutes each time, and then woke up shivering with cold.”
“I passed out? I don’t remember that. I remember being cold…” She knew Lathan wasn’t lying, but it didn’t feel right to have things happening to her body without her being aware of them.
The doctor spoke to Lathan. “Could she have had a seizure?”
“Seizure?” The word exploded from her mouth. “As in epilepsy? No way. Wouldn’t I know if I was having seizures? And why would I all of a sudden start having them? That doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense.” Even she could hear the hysterical quality to her tone. “I just want to make it all go away.”
“Evanee, your reaction is normal.” The doctor’s tone was the same one adults used on frightened children. “This is difficult stuff to wrap your mind around. Allow me to explain.” He sat back in his seat, looking comfortable.
She sat on the edge of the cushion. Lathan’s hand holding hers was the only thing anchoring her to the seat.
“While you are asleep, your brain directs your body through the cycles of sleep. But when you are having one of these special dreams, your brain is on double duty. It’s directing you through the sleep cycles and navigating you through this whole other experience. Your brain is experiencing two realities at once.” He repeated the words with extra emphasis. “Two realities at once. Upon waking, the brain short-circuits from the overload—usually in some form of seizure. It takes a while for everything to come back online.”
“My brain short-circuits?” Maybe she was short-circuiting right now. None of this conversation was on the same page as logic.
“How can something from a dream end up in reality?” Gill asked. “It’s against the laws of physics or something, isn’t it?”
“Depends on which laws of physics you are following,” Dr. Stone answered.
Lathan nodded his head as if he fully understood Dr. Stone’s meaning. Evanee didn’t understand. Was Dr. Stone saying that more than one set of rules governed the universe and the objects in it? She was starting to feel like she was in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Or being punked. Or in an alternate universe where everything looked the same and sounded the same, but somehow wasn’t the same.
Gill leaned forward in his chair, his gaze resting on her before turning to the doctor. “I wouldn’t be going down this rabbit hole with her if I could find any other logical explanation. The Bureau wants more than my word and Lathan’s word.”
“I’ll do what I can to reass
ure them once I have more information.” Dr. Stone turned his attention back to her. “To confirm what you are telling me, we’ll need to conduct some baseline tests, then study your sleep and dream patterns. Maybe we can even record the psychic phenomenon on—”
“Whoa. Stop the insane train.” She held up her hand, silencing his speech. “We’re having a misunderstanding. I’m not psychic. I think you’re misinterpreting what I’m saying.”
Dr. Stone gave her a tolerant grin that reminded her too much of how Matt used to look at her sometimes. “You are partly correct. During your waking hours, you are not psychic. But during the dream state, you are connecting to another plane of reality that science has difficulty studying because it only exists inside you. It is a form of psychic phenomenon.”
She shook her head slowly, taking in both Lathan’s and Gill’s faces. Both seemed to be buying what Dr. Stone was selling. “Do you guys believe this?”
“It’s worth considering,” Lathan said. He was serious. Serious. How could he think any of this was even possible?
She turned to Gill.
“You better hope there’s something to this, or you’ll be at Quantico answering tougher questions than I’ve ever given you.”
“Hundreds of people have made compelling claims of having one form of psychic dreams or another, but under the weight of scientific testing, their claims fall apart,” Dr. Stone said. “I’ve met only one individual whose psychic dreams have been documented and their accuracy demonstrated repeatedly. We have so much proof, in fact, that we have a direct line to Homeland Security. They use the information from our dreamer to save lives. In the past four months, thirty-seven lives have been spared.”
Four months. Isleen moved here four months ago. Was she the dreamer Dr. Stone referred to?
“If what you say is true, your ability is vastly different than anything ever studied. It’s oneirokinesis.”
“O—what?” she and Gill said at the same time.
“Oneirokinesis. The ability to move objects from the dream state to reality.”
