Tangible (Dreamwalker)

by Wallace, Jody

  Maggie didn’t bother lying about how sexy Zeke was to her. “What’s a tangible bond?”

  “Do you feel a tug in your skin when he’s near you?” Lillian asked. “As if your body and his are attracted. Not metaphorically, but by magnets.”

  “Yes.” Maggie’s eyes widened as relief poured through her. “That’s a dreamer thing? Not something else?”

  “What did you think it was?” Zeke asked with a slight smile.

  “Static. Panic attack.” Pure animal attraction. “Something like that.”

  “It’s caused by the two of you already having connected in the dreamsphere. It’s believed to have evolved so it’s easier to remain in physical contact while in the sphere, but it’s more complicated than that.” Lillian nodded. “In short, it’s best if you and I team up instead of you and Zeke.”

  “You’ve got two disciples right now, Lill,” Rhys said. “Can you handle three?”

  “If you can swing four, my friend, I can swing five. Three won’t even make me yawn.” Lillian grinned reassuringly at Maggie. “Do you have children? A husband? A lover who might object to your new bed buddy?”

  Maggie glanced nervously at Zeke, who raised an eyebrow. She was a grown woman—a college professor. She shouldn’t be disconcerted by a frank question about her relationship status, not even in the presence of a man who embodied most of the sexual fantasies she’d ever had...and who hadn’t denied being attracted to her.

  “Single, no kids, one brother, one sister, all adults.”

  “That’s good news,” Lillian said. “Even better that you have no dependents. You can’t tell anyone what’s happened until we get you trained. Then you can file paperwork with our parent organization, the Somnium, requesting any specific disclosures you feel you need to make.”

  It sounded like a museum. “Somnium?”

  “Latin for dream,” Lillian said. “And yes, it’s been around that long. But you’ll get your history lesson later. You say you have a brother and sister?”

  Her brain felt like it was spinning, not all that gently. “Hayden is my brother. He lives here part time but I don’t expect him home for several hours. He may be in DC for the night.” He didn’t exactly keep her apprised of his schedule. “I don’t know where my sister, Allyson, is. The last time I saw her was at the funeral.”

  “Is your brother going to be a problem?” Zeke asked. “Husbands and wives are the worst, but siblings can be a pain in the ass too. Thank God kids don’t turn dreamer. Imagine that hassle.”

  “Hayden shouldn’t be an issue,” she said, “as long as you don’t all plan to stay at the house.” She was having enough trouble grasping these huge shifts in her worldview without involving her brother. It was too much to absorb, paired so closely with losing her parents, but Zeke, Lillian and Rhys had all been through their version of this and survived.

  She didn’t want to hear about the people who hadn’t.

  “We prefer to relocate to a waystation or our central base for training,” Lillian told her. “Neonati are placed under night guard, and most mentors have other students. I’ll follow your lead in what you’d like to tell your brother. Our disciples—alucinators in training—find it easiest if they take a leave of absence.”

  Since she was already on sabbatical from the university, Maggie shook her head. “I won’t need to do that.”

  “If there’s anything else in your day to day life you need to handle—pets, responsibilities, bills, utilities, professional obligations, whatever—I’d advise you to make a list,” Lillian said. “For your safety and the safety of others, we have to start tonight.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready.” Maggie hadn’t exaggerated when she’d threatened to cry. Bursting into tears might relieve her building stress but would definitely be embarrassing. “I just met you. This is crazy. I don’t feel like I have enough time or proof for such a big commitment.”

  By chance or fate, her life had little in it that would be disrupted, which didn’t mean this change was welcome. It was all so...permanent, when she wanted it gone and her life back to normal. Once she returned to her job, she’d have to juggle payments to this Somnium place along with her car loan, mortgage and occasional groceries. Even a woman whose brain created monsters had to eat.

  Zeke slid down the sofa until he was in her space again, capturing her attention. Maggie refused to retreat. They stared at one another, and neither Rhys nor Lillian intruded.

  In a low voice, Zeke said, “Are you a doctor? A physicist? Anything that makes you an authority on alternate dimensions?”

  She could smell him. See tiny flecks of darker grey in his pale irises and a scar on his chin. Stupidly—stupidly—her spine softened as her body’s desires pushed her toward him.

  “Um.” This was not the stance she needed against a man like Zeke—one used to command, used to having his way. University faculties had more than their fair share of alphas and egos. If she weren’t careful, she’d yield her throat, her underbelly, up for the taking.

  She took a deep breath. “Technically, I am a doctor. I have a PhD in cultural geography.”

  “The Somnium has spent centuries fighting wraiths, centuries figuring out how they’re created and how to kill them. How to deal with neonati, even when they resist. You’ve got all the proof you need. Believe us, Maggie. Believe everything we’re telling you and quit resisting. People die when dreamers don’t cooperate.”

  “I’m going to cooperate,” she assured him. “That doesn’t mean this isn’t crazy.”

  “Look at it this way.” Zeke eased away from her, pale eyes glinting. “It could be worse. You could be stuck with me.”

  “I can see how that would be worse,” she said, almost smiling when he chuckled.

  “Then it’s settled.” Lillian leaned forward and took Maggie’s hand. There was no extra sensation, no faint tug, just a firm handshake. “After Rhys takes you though the paperwork, we’ll get you fixed up. I promise not to hog the covers. I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve had a lot of practice sharing beds.”

  Which meant Zeke probably had too. Had he been unable to keep his student-teacher relationships platonic in the past? Was that the issue? Was he that guy—the one who took advantage of the women he should be helping? None of her companions, including Zeke, seemed to trust him with her after that kiss.

  She didn’t trust herself with Zeke after that kiss.

  Chapter Four

  Zeke lay awake in an upstairs bedroom, staring toward the ceiling fan that directed gentle gusts over the exposed parts of his body. Maggie’s house suffered from a common winter disorder of historic homes—stuffy on the top, chilly on the bottom. His room was no exception. The saggy bed was piled high with throw pillows—too narrow, reminding him he wasn’t supposed to be spending this night alone.

  But he’d done the right thing, convincing Lillian to mentor Maggie. He hoped the two of them were sound asleep and connecting in the dreamsphere. Lillian was a gifted instructor—better than him by far. Maggie was a project, and Lillian was the best person for it.

  The best person for Maggie.

  The lust and jealousy he felt for Maggie weren’t real. Tangibles mimicked an intimate connection where there wasn’t one. Had he not been attracted to her, it wouldn’t have been as huge of a snag, but he was.

  He would have wanted to get in her pants had she been dreamless. Not because she was pretty or had the kind of breasts and hips he liked—though she was and she did. But because she was quick-witted, fierce and adaptable. This transformation in her life had bent but not broken her, and she had rebounded. She’d come up swinging.

  In his experience, women like that were worth the effort to coax into bed. Well worth the effort.

  She probably felt a similar pull toward him. She, however, wouldn’t understand it was false. The two of them in bed together, touching, becoming close, sharing each other’s minds—bad idea. Tangibles were erratic and inconvenient, and their usefulness was debatabl
e.

  When they reported to HQ tomorrow, the vigils would be annoyed Zeke hadn’t done as ordered. They were the seven ranking alucinators in the North American division, after all. They were used to being obeyed. There was a remote possibility they’d drag the Orbis into it, though the curators rarely got involved in division politics. In the end, the important thing was everyone would be safe, and Maggie’s potential could be harnessed for the Somnium.

  She might think she wanted to remain on the outskirts, but fate had a way of coaxing high-level alucinators into active roles. Even the selfish, cowardly ones got sucked in, and Maggie didn’t seem to be selfish or cowardly.

  Were Maggie and Lillian asleep? Half of him wanted to trance out and see if he could find them. Help Lillian. Be closer to Maggie. But that was the tangible talking. He should sleep. It wasn’t his watch until three a.m. and he needed rest. His team didn’t expect more wraiths to show up, but it was standard procedure with a neo. Post guards. Just in case.

  Guards hadn’t been enough in Harrisburg.

  Neither had he.

  That’s why Maggie needed to be with Lillian.

  Accepting the situation, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Normal sleep, not the dreamsphere, else he’d be too tempted to look for her.

  The vampire held her down. Squeezed. Its mouth dripped saliva as it bent for her throat. She could sense how badly it wanted to burrow its teeth in her, open her veins, drain her dry.

  Maggie struggled but her attacker was strong. The last thing she remembered was Lillian holding her hand and promising she’d be safe. She tried to call for help. Her voice wouldn’t work. Bangs and thumps echoed all around her. Monsters flashed in her peripheral vision—dark wisps, leering faces.

  “Maggie, wake up. Come on. Wake up, sweetheart.”

  Every atom in her body wanted to do as that voice commanded. But the monster had her, its claws digging in.

  Pain sliced her neck. She tried to scream again and couldn’t.

  Her body rattled so hard her teeth snapped and she sucked in a huge gasp. She opened her eyes to blackness. Was she alive? Awake? A warm hand released her shoulder and clicked on the bedside lamp.

  A man loomed over her. Blond, shirtless, incredibly sexy.

  Zeke.

  Good Lord. His body. If this was a dream, it wasn’t a bad one.

  Except that he was pissed. And holding a sword.

  The foggy events of last night rushed over her in a wave. So did her voice, releasing itself from the compulsion of her nightmare. “What’s going on? Where’s Lillian?”

  The door slammed open with a bang. Lillian fell butt-first into the room. She howled, leapt to her feet, and sliced the head off the vampire chasing her. It disintegrated into dust with a sizzle.

  Maggie screamed.

  Zeke raised an eyebrow. “Lillian’s busy killin’ stuff.”

  If Zeke was hanging out beside Maggie’s bed, watching the goings on with mild interest, the danger must be under control.

  “What happened?” she asked, trying to calm after the repeated frights.

  “Vampires.” With one finger, Zeke tilted her chin sideways to inspect her neck. “I don’t see any blood. Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “I’m fine. Was that monster left over from earlier?” Maggie blinked her eyes, which stung for some reason. She raised her hands to rub them and found she was covered in sand. “Why am I dirty?”

  Zeke’s lips twisted. “You’re covered in wraith. Sorry, sweetheart. I let it get too close.”

  Appalled, Maggie started brushing frantically at her cotton nightgown and her arms. “That’s disgusting. Get it off me.”

  He leaned the sword against the bedside table and stilled her hands. His hot skin seemed to cling to hers. Her gaze traveled up his bare arms to his tattoos, his firm biceps, his broad shoulders. Scars on his gorgeous chest. Another tattoo. His nipples were dark, his flesh somewhat goose bumped in the chill air. Golden hair dusted his belly like an invitation to stroke him. God.

  Jeans rode low on his hips, and his gun belt rode lower still.

  “Relax,” he murmured. She couldn’t tell if he meant because of the dirt or because she felt a nigh-irresistible urge to lick his stomach.

  Maggie swallowed. “Easy for you to say. You have an awfully big knife.”

  “Wraith residue is identical to the soil where the wraith materialized. It won’t hurt you anymore than dirt will hurt you.” He released her and rubbed his arms briskly. “Anybody ever tell you your ground floor is freakin’ cold?”

  “Put on some clothes, cowboy.” Lillian, finished with the vampire, wrenched a knife out of the closet door. A cut marred her handsome face and her dark eyes were worried. She’d come to bed in a T-shirt but had since donned jeans and a flak vest.

  “What happened in the dreamsphere?” Zeke asked her. Maggie was glad he didn’t put on a shirt as Lillian suggested, because admiring his body took Maggie’s mind off nearly getting eaten again. “Was the swarm too big to choke off?”

  Lillian sheathed the knife and plucked another off the floor. “It was insane. Wraith blotches everywhere. I couldn’t link with her and get her signature tagged. Tried everything I could think of. Sorry.”

  “Fuck.” Zeke half-turned from Maggie, his brows crinkling into a scowl. “I don’t want to use the ECT on her.”

  “And I don’t want you to.” Maggie sat up. Lillian had explained what to expect in the dreamsphere and how a connection with a mentor or the ECT was often the only way to yank a disciple loose until she’d had training.

  Why hadn’t Lillian been able to help? The paperwork Maggie had signed had disclosed the dangers of the ECT and she wasn’t interested in experiencing them.

  “We’re lucky we didn’t have to use it this time. Thank your tangible for that, even if it borked our original plan.” Lillian fingered the wound on her cheek. “Are you willing to do your part to avoid the ECT, Zeke, or are you going to let the past convince you you’ll screw things up?”

  “We—I—could petition the curators,” Zeke said gruffly. “One might take interest.”

  An expression crossed Lillian’s amiable face that chilled Maggie to the bone. “Do you want to do that to her before we try everything we can here?”

  “Fuck,” Zeke said again, which didn’t answer the question. “Did the team kill the rest of the wraiths?”

  “The rest?” Maggie’s stomach roiled with tension.

  As if on cue, Lillian’s walkie-talkie crackled on the bedside table. Zeke grabbed it. Rhys’s voice issued from the speaker. “We dusted fourteen vamps. Weird thing, though. There were two different kinds.”

  “She was in there long enough for double manifestation. It happens,” Zeke said, looking at Maggie.

  “How many wraiths did you get?” Rhys asked.

  “Two,” Lillian and Zeke said at the same time.

  “Four total, all Whedon vamps.” Zeke picked up the sword. “That’s eighteen.”

  The walkie crackled again, which could have been static and could have been Rhys clearing his throat. “Were the ones you killed particularly vicious?”

  “Normal,” Zeke said. “Maggie’s awake now. Should be it.”

  “More monsters.” Maggie’s eyes began to burn and water. “Because of me. I hope nobody got hurt.”

  Zeke spoke into the handheld without taking his gaze off her. “Who’s on sweep?”

  “Sean and Chang.” Static drowned out Rhys’s voice, and Zeke smacked the walkie against his leg. Rhys was still speaking. “...a complication. The wraiths ran amuck, and during the fight a witness let himself in the front door. According to his wallet, it’s the brother. He’s drunk off his ass. What do you want us to do with him?”

  “Put him in his room. Maybe he’ll forget what happened. If not, Lillian can handle it.”

  Her brother had been attacked? Maggie’s heart lurched. “Is Hayden okay? I should go to him.” She tried to kick off the covers, but her nightgown wrapped it
self around her legs.

  Zeke gestured for her to be quiet with his sword hand, which was pretty convincing. “Hold your horses, Rambo. We’re securing the premises. Rhys, send Hardin and Mel to check the neighbors. Chances are these were clump manifestations but it won’t hurt to be sure.”

  “I need to sterilize my cut,” Lillian said to Maggie in a low voice as Zeke and Rhys discussed the monsters. “Do you want to wash up?”

  “Yes, please.” She nearly fell off the mattress, thousands of tiny particles hitting the wooden floorboards with a shush. Grit coated the chilly floor. She shook out her gown, brushed off the sheets. “How did this happen? Did I do something wrong?”

  Zeke, still on the walkie, gestured at a shadowy figure outside the bedroom. Since he didn’t run it through with the sword, she assumed it was one of his team—not a vampire.

  “Not you,” Lillian said. “Me. In the dreamsphere, I found you but I wasn’t able to make you aware of me. That can happen when a neo already has a connection to another alucinator.”

  “The tangible with Zeke?”

  “That would be my guess.” Lillian preceded Maggie into the master bath. Still holding the knife, she checked behind the shower curtain with a deceptively casual swipe. “We don’t want to use the ECT on you, and the only alucinator who can bypass Zeke’s tangible in order to mentor you is a curator. You have the right to request one as your mentor. They might not accept your petition, but you do have the right.”

  The way Lillian said it made it sound like a threat. “What’s a curator?”

  “The heads of the Somnium. The entire Somnium. They have no sense of humor and alucinators trained by curators tend to vanish.” She bunched the shower curtain to one side and turned to Maggie. “Zeke’s going to have to take you.”

  Maggie didn’t think Lillian was being provocative, but she shivered at the thought of Zeke taking her—doing anything with her. She switched the bathroom heater on high, which didn’t help her particular kind of shivering.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to fall back to sleep tonight anyway.” She helped Lillian find the first aid items for her wound before addressing the residue on herself. It glistened like the white sand on Virginia Beach. The vacuum cleaner was going to get a serious workout tomorrow.