by Kit Alloway
A little voice in her head said, So don’t be a dictator.
Finally, she went and sat down beside Will, the egg in her lap, and he held one of her hands and smiled at her.
“Trust yourself,” he told her.
You have to follow it.
What if Feodor was right?
Josh closed her eyes. She leaned against Will, glad for his steadiness. And she shut up and listened.
The egg warmed beneath her hand, against the sides of her thighs and shins. She didn’t go to the white, wall-less place, because it was all around her. Everything was all around her.
You have to follow it.
Strangely, what she imagined then were the stone walls that protected her from the dreamers’ fear. She saw the little cork in them, and she pulled it out, but what got through wasn’t smoke: it was light. Light that ate away at the stones and mortar, broke the walls down and surrounded her in warmth.
What should I do? she asked. What’s best? Not just for me, for everyone. What does everyone need?
She saw herself then, lying on the cabin’s basement floor in the Dream all those months ago, her skull broken, her elbow shattered, her blood slowly seeping onto the concrete floor. And Will beside her, using his last breath to tell her to believe in herself.
But I didn’t believe in myself. I believed in the True Dream Walker, and I used that to bolster myself up. And that’s why I’ve been so desperate all these months to believe, to be that. Because I thought I wasn’t good enough.
But I got us here, didn’t I?
Maybe I am enough.
The relief made her smile. She was young and stupid and rash and she’d done rotten things and hurt people and made bad choices. And she had done the best she could. And that was enough.
I am enough.
So what do I do?
Follow the wisdom.
Then somehow she was looking at the constellation of souls again. Every soul had a path—except hers.
She didn’t have the right to control the rest of humanity. No one did. If she had tried, she would have failed, and she probably would have caused a Feodor- and/or Peregrine-sized disaster in the process. People weren’t meant to control each other.
Control, after all, was an illusion.
Part of her felt disappointed. She would have liked to have ended war, eradicated disease, created an egalitarian utopia of peace. But doing so would have meant preventing everyone from evolving to that place in their own way. It would have meant pulling them off their souls’ paths, the same way she had done with Ian. One way or another, it wouldn’t have ended well.
No, people didn’t need to be controlled. Their souls needed the choice to do better or worse. They needed guidance. They needed to follow it.
In all her searching for how to be the True Dream Walker, all Josh had really learned was how to listen to that wisdom, that guidance, that flicker of goodness that connected everyone to everyone else. It was the insight Will had and the compassion Deloise showed and the connections Haley could see. Josh had followed it and it had brought her here, and she realized now that everyone could follow it, that everyone wanted to follow it, they were trying so hard.
Haley said we are evolving, that we’ve almost evolved as far as we can in this form. We’re all trying to “follow it,” but it’s so hard. I know that better than anyone. But what if we could hear that inner guidance just a little easier?
She made it just a tiny bit easier for everyone to find their inner wisdom.
So little. A tenth of a tenth of a percent. That was all that was needed to start them all evolving again, each in their own way, each on their own path. Not by controlling each other, but by loving each other more readily.
That felt right.
And the three universes? she wondered. Should I leave them merged?
She knew it was an option, leaving them merged, letting everyone dream forever, but was afraid to do so, afraid of losing the dream walker part of herself, afraid of letting everyone go on living and dreaming forever.
She remembered what she’d told Feodor, and reminded herself, This isn’t about you.
She looked back at the constellation of souls. Each path diverged now, one line showing what would happen if the universes remained one, the other showing what would happen if Josh separated them. The first path was longer and harder, the rewards slower to appear. The second path was easier, filled with more joy.
There’s no benefit to suffering, Josh thought.
She separated the three universes again, put them in tidy order, neat parallels like the plates on a dessert tower. But she kept Peregrineum as it was, as a reminder of the chaos staging could cause, of what could happen when one person believed he had a right to make decisions for everyone. She kept it as a graveyard for the fantasy of control, even as she dismissed the soulless people with whom Peregrine had filled it.
That, too, felt right.
Eyes still closed, she went back to the night she had torn Ian’s soul from his body. She remembered the feel of his hand in hers, the way she had squeezed until she felt the bones in his palm close together.
And she let go.
In her mind, she watched what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled Ian off his path. Instead of becoming a perfect soldier for Feodor, he would have died while Feodor was experimenting on him. Most people did.
Josh knew what that death would have felt like, because she had almost died that way herself. Her heart broke at the thought of someone she loved dying so terribly. Luckily, she didn’t have to change the actual past. She just had to correct the outcome.
If Ian had died, Snitch would have left Feodor’s universe for the Dream, hunting alone for souls, but he would have been able to hurt fewer people without Ian’s body to help him. He never would have gotten ahold of Josh’s lighter, never would have left the Dream for the World, and would eventually have been caught by the Gendarmerie. After months of interrogation, the Gendarmerie would have put together enough pieces to realize he had come from Feodor’s universe, and they would have stormed Warsaw, arrested Feodor, and released the souls he had collected.
Those souls whose bodies had died, Josh sent on to Death. That’s where they were meant to be. Two still had living bodies waiting for them—one of them was Geoff Simbar—and Josh restored them. The souls Feodor would never have been able to collect without Ian’s body—including Winsor’s, Sam’s, and Phil’s—Josh put back into healed bodies or brought back from the dead—including Divya.
She didn’t change anyone’s memories, though. Her job was to repair what she had done, not to erase it.
That left Ian.
If she hadn’t pulled his soul out of his body, he would have died in Feodor’s universe. That meant Josh had to send him to Death, no matter how much she wanted to give him a second chance at this life.
Opening her eyes, she stood up and walked to his glass cell. He was shouting at Whim and Haley, telling them what useless friends they were and insulting their masculinity.
“Give it to me!” he began screaming at Josh as soon as he saw the Omphalos.
Josh pressed the Omphalos to her chest and it vanished inside her.
“You stupid, selfish bitch!”
Holding her breath, Josh stepped through the glass and into the cell. Ian tried to slap her and she caught his wrists. As he wrestled her, she said, “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry I pulled you off your path.”
He fought her, fought the knowledge, fought the change.
“I’m going to fix that now,” she said.
She put her palms on either side of his face and healed him with a thought.
Ian calmed. He lifted his hands to cover hers, angry tears in his eyes.
“I wasn’t ready to die,” he said.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to go. Please, J.D.”
“Shh.”
She kissed him then, because she loved him and she wanted to see him who
le, and then she hugged him to make up for all the times she’d wished he was still with her.
“Please let me stay.”
“Say good-bye to Haley.”
Josh dismissed the glass cell, and Haley hugged his twin just as tightly as Josh had.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Ian said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“S’okay,” Haley told him. “It’s all forgiven.”
“You can’t talk her into letting me stay?”
Haley tried to smile and couldn’t. “You’re dead, Ian.”
Ian ground his teeth, tears spilling out of his green-hazel eyes, and he said something Josh had never expected to hear.
“I’m scared.”
“That’s why she’s here,” Haley said, and he nodded toward Dustine.
Josh realized her grandmother was still with them. If Snitch and Gloves had never come out of the basement archway, they never would have frightened Dustine so badly that she had a heart attack. She should still be alive.
But she wasn’t. It was just a matter of time, Josh realized. She would have had the heart attack soon anyway.
Dustine folded Josh in her arms. I would have had it in response to hearing that Kerstel was pregnant, she told Josh silently. And that would have been a terrible way to announce Keri’s appearance in the World.
Probably, Josh agreed.
Dustine gave her a luminous smile and patted her on the cheek.
Deloise came over and hugged her, and then Haley, and finally Dustine held her hand out to Ian, and he forced himself to take it. “I love you guys,” he said.
“We love you, too, Ian,” Deloise said, and she hugged him. “Bye, Grandma.”
“Miss you, buddy,” Whim said.
Dustine took his hand, but it was Josh he looked at.
“I love you, J.D.”
He’d never said it to her in front of anyone else. Not once. He’d been too insecure.
“I love you, too,” Josh told him.
And he and Dustine vanished in a burst of golden light.
Whim hugged Haley, and the four of them who had loved Ian stood together and cried for a minute, and it hurt but it felt right. The old pain in Josh’s chest, that Ian-wound that had haunted her for so many months, finally began to heal.
Feodor cleared his throat. “I suppose it is now my turn,” he said stiffly. “I don’t imagine I’ll get quite such an escort.”
Josh hugged him, too; she wanted to hug everyone. “No,” she said, into his bony shoulder.
“No?” he asked, pulling away.
Josh squared her shoulders. “I’m giving you this life, Feodor, this second life. It’s yours. You earned it, and … I trust you with it.”
For a moment he trembled violently, and then he turned away. When he could speak, his voice was rough. “I will endeavor to be worthy of your trust.”
Then he began to walk away.
“Wait,” Deloise told him. “Wait. You can ride back with us.”
He chuckled strangely, as if the idea were absurd, but he didn’t go anywhere.
“Feodor,” Josh said, and she quoted an old Polish proverb. “Whom you befriend, you become.”
He smiled, still so stiff, still so formal. But then he said, “When the Lords of Death sent me back, they sent me back sane. You might afford Peregrine the same opportunity.”
Josh looked at Peregrine, still raging in his glass cell. She had put him back in his own body when she restored Geoff to his. Now she regrew Peregrine’s lost hand, and with a touch as soft as a kiss, she healed his mind—soothed his brain, reordered his neurotransmitters, cut the loops of obsession, and gentled the waves of hatred.
“What the hell are you doing to me?” he demanded.
“I’m giving you a second chance,” Josh told him, and she dissolved the cell around him.
He glared at her. “I hate you,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. Looking confused, he wandered into the palace.
Finally, she turned to Will.
He was as misty-eyed as the rest of them, and at first Josh thought it must have been seeing Dustine as an angel that brought about his tears, but he opened his arms, and when she fell into them, he said, “You are so beautiful right now. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she told him. “And Will—”
She swept her hand in a circle over her head, and the vision she had seen of the dance of souls appeared in the air before them. Deloise cried out in wonder, and Haley smiled.
“This is your soul,” Josh said, pointing to a long, silver line. “And this is mine.” She showed him her tiny line. “And see this little explosion?”
The moment their souls’ paths crossed was marked by a twinkle of green energy, like a distant sparkler, a tiny explosion of goodness.
“I see it,” Will said, grinning.
“That’s where you became my apprentice,” Josh said, and she kissed him.
Epilogue
Haley McKarr married the newly elected prime minister of the dream walkers in a small sunset ceremony on the beach. Whim played the guitar—badly—and Deloise sang—beautifully. Katia threw flower petals and took photographs, and Winsor read a poem. Afterward, the happy couple and their families roasted hot dogs and drank Kerstel’s sangria around a bonfire. Laurentius played alternately with his youngest daughter, Keri, and his middle daughter’s dog, Poppy. Davita wore Mirren’s family crest on a chain around her neck—and after twenty years of hiding it beneath her blouse, she wore it in full view. Haley’s mother bonded with Mirren’s aunt. Feodor rolled his eyes a lot, but he and Young Ben knocked back most of a bottle of fine vodka Feodor had brought.
Josh sat on the sand with Will’s arm around her shoulders and felt happy.
When the stars came out, and the adults had all gone to bed in the newly rebuilt cabin, and the fire was burning the last of the logs they’d brought, and Haley and Mirren were still dancing but the music had stopped, and Sam had started hinting that it was time for bed, Josh pulled something out of a bag she’d brought.
“What’s that?” Whim asked.
Josh held it up. “It’s my scroll.”
She tossed it in the fire, causing Deloise to gasp. But Will just smiled and kissed her cheek.
“To who we are,” he said, and lifted his glass high.
They all drank.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, to my agent, Rachel Orr, thank you for taking a chance on me, for holding my hand when I got anxious, and for riding the train to Queens to eat Romanian food with me. You’re the absolute best.
To Terra Layton, who saw the promise in this series, and Sara Goodman and Alicia Adkins-Clancy, who took the reins and saw me through to the end, thank you for all of your hard work on these stories.
To my Polish translator, Maciej St. Ziêba, for your endlessly generous assistance with these novels, serdecznie dziękuję. All remaining errors are mine.
To my writing teachers, Joyce McDonald, Susan Campbell Bartoletti, Sena Jeter Naslund, Karen Mann, and all the faculty and students at Spalding University’s MFA in writing program, thank you for making me a better writer, a better reader, and a better person.
To the teachers of the Young Writers Workshop, especially Pat Allison, Rae Cobb, and Liz Palmer, thank you for supporting my writing, each in your own way. To the amazing kids who turn out every year, thank you for the endless inspiration, the hilarity, and for making me feel young. Healer Baby lives!
To my writer friends, Hannah Strom-Martin, Sara Kasari, Kelly Creagh, Eileen Peterson, and Lillian Price, thank you for the laughs and the line edits. An especially huge thank-you to my editing partner, Megan Clayton, who spent more than a hundred hours with me at Panera Bread working on these three books. The next orange scone is on me.
To Meredith Young-Sowers, thank you for believing in me and teaching me to believe in myself. Your lessons are all over this story—I hope you don’t mind.
To my parents, who helped carry th
is dream for so long, thank you for all your love and support, for giving me a childhood where my imagination could run wild, and for reading to me day and night.
To Gosha, thank you for being my rock. Thank you for your line edits, long plotting sessions, reassurance and validation, and for saying what every writer longs to hear from her partner: “Go write.”
And to Sara Forward, my one and only sister, thank you for being my most devoted reader, my most honest critic, and the fan I still aim to please. If I hadn’t had you to write for, we might never have gotten here.
also by kit alloway
Dreamfire
Dreamfever
About the Author
KIT ALLOWAY is an avid quilter who lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with her family and four very small dogs. Visit her Web site at www.kitalloway.com, or sign up for email updates here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
List of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty−one
Chapter Twenty−two
Chapter Twenty−three
Chapter Twenty−four
Chapter Twenty−five
Chapter Twenty−six
Chapter Twenty−seven
Chapter Twenty−eight
Chapter Twenty−nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty−one
Chapter Thirty−two
Chapter Thirty−three
Chapter Thirty−four
Chapter Thirty−five
Chapter Thirty−six
