Dream Stalkers

by Tim Waggoner

  “I suppose we’ll have to put the shuteye investigation aside for now,” I said.

  “Not at all,” the Fata Morgana said. “Russell’s message said shuteye is related to the excisions, although he didn’t say how. I think he tried to tell me, but our connection faded before he could.”

  “It’s those damn mysterious bosses of his,” I said, irritated. “If they’re so powerful and know so goddamned much, why don’t they just show up and fix the problem themselves?”

  The Fata Morgana looked at me. “You don’t know? Or did the memory vanish?”

  “How would I know the difference?” I said.

  “Good point,” she said.

  “I know about the Thresholders,” Jinx said.

  The Fata Morgana, Connie, and I all looked at him.

  “Bloodshedder told me.”

  I don’t speak demon dog, but, since Bloodshedder and Jinx are both Incubi, they don’t seem to have any trouble communicating.

  Jinx continued. “She said the Thresholders are the spirits of people who died while they were dreaming. They’re stuck between Earth and Nod, so they protect access to both dimensions, although they can’t enter either. They can only work through agents they recruit, like Russell and Bloodshedder.”

  “Have either of you spent any time in the Between lately?” the Fata Morgana asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I have,” I admitted. “And Jinx and I were close to the portal that the Thresholders opened in order to retrieve Russell when he was wounded.”

  The Fata Morgana nodded, as if I’d just confirmed something she’d expected. “That’s why you’re able to recognize excisions when they happen and remember what used to exist: your exposure to the energies from Between.”

  I hadn’t been able to remember the excisions at first, although I’d almost remembered them. But, when the portal to Between opened in Deadlock, Jinx and I had gotten a good dose of that realm’s energy. That must’ve been what finally did the trick.

  “I don’t have a clue what any of you are talking about,” Connie said. “But I trust you, Audra.” She glanced sideways at the Fata Morgana. “And only you. If you say these excisions are happening, I believe it.”

  As we continued driving through the Murk, I told Connie and the Fata Morgana about the riot in Deadlock and what had happened to Nathaniel and Mordacity.

  “So Incubi can somehow possess humans?” Connie asked. “That’s more than a little kinky, if you ask me.”

  “More than possess them,” I said. “Alkandros was able to transform Nathaniel’s body into his own.”

  “Maybe that’s what happened to Gingerdread Man and Demonique,” Jinx said. “When they were zonked, they changed into Batwoman and the Human Earwig and got the hell out of there.”

  It seemed like a crazy idea, but I was used to hearing those from Jinx. But it would explain why the assassins had disappeared and two other Incubi had seemingly taken their place.

  “So these possessing Incubi can take over humans or other Incubi?” the Fata Morgana asked. “That would make excellent camouflage for assassins. They can literally become someone else.”

  “And shuteye is connected somehow,” I said. “Nathaniel told Mordacity and me that it was used for something other than putting people to sleep. Maybe this is what he meant.”

  “Perhaps shuteye is how the second personality gets into the body of the first,” the Fata Morgana said.

  It sounded ridiculous. How could someone’s personality – their very essence – be put into something as small and simple as a pill? But Nathaniel’s bizarre behavior began immediately after the Angler had forced him to swallow a shuteye pill. And I’d done the same thing to Montrose to stop him, and he’d gained a second personality as well.

  “So the people who have a bad reaction to shuteye, like Nathaniel, are those who try to resist the invading personality,” I said. “Some die doing so, some go mad, and those who don’t or can’t resist…”

  “They fall asleep and get possessed,” the Fata Morgana said. “That explains why there aren’t any repeat customers for shuteye. Once you have a second personality in you, the drug’s done its work. There’s no need for another dose.”

  “But you said the chemical makeup of shuteye is nothing more than an over-the-counter sleep aid,” I pointed out.

  “With the addition of small amounts of Maelstrom energy,” she said. “I dismissed the M-energy at the time, but I shouldn’t have. Now I suspect it plays a crucial role in allowing the invading personality to possess its new host. A personality such as Alkandros. My, but I haven’t heard his name in ages.”

  “He told us he was a Lord of Misrule,” I said.

  “Yes. A bit before my time, though.”

  “What about the Discarnate?” I asked. “Do you know what they are? Could they be these invading personalities?”

  “They’re called Faders today. But it’s the stage after they’re completely Faded, when there’s nothing left except a disembodied spirit.”

  “Is that possible?” I asked. “I thought Incubi were just gone after they Faded.”

  “It’s a legend,” the Fata Morgana said. “One that was old when I was young. I don’t know if it has any basis in fact. I’ve never met a Discarnate, and I don’t know anyone who has. But, if what you say is true, they’re real and they’ve found a way to return to life.”

  “By time-sharing bodies,” Jinx said.

  “Life is life,” the Fata Morgana said. “People will do anything to extend it, and not just Incubi. Plenty of humans would do the same thing if they had the chance.”

  I wanted to tell her that it was a damn cynical way to view the world, but I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t agree with her.

  “So, Russell said the excisions are connected to shuteye?” I said. “I really don’t see how that’s possible. Possession by Incubus-in-a-pill is one thing, but actually erasing parts of reality? That’s the big leagues.”

  I was trying desperately not to think about the fact that Sanderson and the Shadow Watch no longer existed. Their loss was staggering, not only in terms of lives lost, but because, without them, Nod and Earth were defenseless against whatever force was causing the excisions. Jinx and I might prefer working on our own, but we aren’t reluctant to call for backup when we really need it, and we sure as shit needed it now. But all we had were a cabbie, her spooky car, and a powered-down super villain who would gleefully watch the rest of us die in agony.

  We are so screwed, I thought.

  “I’m not saying I believe that pieces of reality are vanishing,” Connie said, “but, assuming it’s true, if we figure out what’s causing it and we find a way to stop it, will those missing pieces come back?”

  “That,” I said, “is a very good question.”

  We all looked at the Fata Morgana.

  “And one that I cannot answer,” she said. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. It’s almost as if…” She trailed off, a horrified expression coming onto her face. “No. No, it can’t be that.”

  “What?” I said, trying to keep my own fear at bay. If something was bad enough to scare the Fata Morgana, it had to be Bad with a capital B.

  “The Wakener.”

  “It’s… not possible,” I said. Then in a smaller voice, I added, “Is it?”

  “What’s a Wakener?” Connie asked.

  “Not to mix theologies, but it’s like the Devil for Incubi,” Jinx said. “Clowns consider him a kind of patron saint of Chaos. Not me, of course. I’m an atheipagagnostic.”

  “The Wakener is mentioned quite often in the Primogenium,” I said. “He’s the opposite of the First Dreamer, a being who will one day appear and undo the creation that the First Dreamer dreamed into existence.”

  Connie snorted. “I was raised Catholic, and, if I don’t believe any of that stuff, then I’m sure not going to believe there’s a First Dreamer and a Wakener.”

  But, despite her words, there was a note of uncertainty in
her voice.

  I’d read the Primogenium through several times. When you don’t sleep but need to rest and meditate five hours a day, you have a lot of time on your hands. So maybe the excisions were the work of the Wakener, or at least a Wakener. And, whether they were religious prophecy come true or just a coincidence, we had to do whatever we could to stop them.

  By this point the Deathmobile was drawing near to the Rimline. The border between the Murk and the Cesspit was hard to make out from this side, since you can’t see through the darkness. But there’s a slight leavening of the blackness. It’s not exactly gray, but you can see it if you know what to look for. More importantly, so did the Deathmobile. The sentient hearse didn’t slow as it approached the Rimline, and the wraiths wrapped it in a cocoon of spectral energy. Connie had said this was how they’d gotten through before, but I still felt nervous as hell. Without a clear path to follow to the other side, we had no idea what we might hit once we were through. Sure, there might be a road. There might also be pedestrians, other vehicles, buildings… I didn’t relish the thought of slamming into them at full speed. But either the Deathmobile could sense what was on the other side of the Rimline or she got lucky because, when we passed out of the Murk, we found ourselves driving down an alley between buildings. The Deathmobile slowed, and, when we reached other end of the alley, she stopped.

  The Cesspit is normally a rough, dangerous place, but the scene that greeted us was nothing less than all-out war. Incubi thronged the streets, lashing out at anyone around them with devastating results. Some went old school and fought with teeth, claws, fists, and feet, while others employed knives, guns, broken bottles, or makeshift clubs. Flesh tore, bones broke, and blood gushed, pooling in the streets and running through the gutters like rainwater. A number of buildings in the vicinity had caught fire, and flames rose into the sky, along with billows of black smoke. The streets were so thick with combatants that passage was impossible, and we were stuck in the alley.

  This was a Nod in which there was no Shadow Watch to patrol the city. Incubi, because of their dark, chaotic natures and their rapid healing abilities, played very rough at times, and they were less hesitant about breaking the law. Because of this, the Watch could fill Deadlock several times over, so, to reduce prison overcrowding, the less dangerous criminals received a collaring sentence lasting from a few months to several years. But negator collars no longer existed either, and, without the Watch to keep a lid on things, the streets of Nod had become a battleground. Well, more of a battleground than usual. And we were stuck in the middle of it.

  “Now this is what I call a party!” Jinx said, excitement and longing in his voice. He watched the violence surging around us like a puppy eager to get out of the car and play with the other dogs.

  I felt so overwhelmed and helpless. Jinx and I were the only two Shadow Watch officers left, and, although we’d taken a vow to serve, protect, and bust heads whenever necessary, there was no way we could hope to slow the fighting, let alone stop it.

  I was trying to decide what the hell our next move should be when my wisper vibrated. Who the hell could be calling me? All I knew is that it wasn’t Sanderson. He no longer existed. I raised the wisper to my face and said, “Answer.”

  A voice issued from the device.

  “Ms Hawthorne? This is Nurse Ooloo. I’m calling on behalf of Dr Menendez. He’s currently tied up with a patient, but he wanted me to–”

  “Jinx and I are fine,” I said. “Thanks for checking on us, but right now we’re in the middle of a situation–”

  “That’s not why I’m calling,” she interrupted. “It’s Ms Gail. Her condition has worsened. It’s quite serious. The doctor thinks you should get here as soon as you can. He’s afraid she doesn’t have much time left.”

  I felt cold all over. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Ms Hawthorne? Are you there?’

  “I… yes. I am. We’ll be there as fast as we can.”

  “Please hurry.”

  The nurse disconnected, and I lowered my wisper. I was stunned. When Jinx and I had left the Sick House, Menendez had seemed optimistic about Melody’s recovery. Obviously, something had gone wrong, but what? The thought of her dying, after losing Mordacity and Nathaniel, was too much.

  “We need to get to the Sick House, Connie. Now.”

  She shot a dubious glance at the mayhem in the street.

  “That’s a hell of a lot easier said than done, Audra.”

  “I understand your concern for the woman,” the Fata Morgana said, in a brisk tone that clearly indicated she didn’t. “But the life of one officer doesn’t matter compared to the potential destruction of Existence itself!”

  “The five of us can’t stop an entire world of rioting Incubi. But I can go see Melody.” I almost added, One last time, but I didn’t want to say it out loud, as if doing so might make it true.

  “And if you don’t like it,” I added, “we’ll be happy to drop you off right here. I’m sure the fact that you don’t have your full powers won’t be a problem for you.”

  She looked out the window and saw an Incubus that looked like a featherless ostrich literally kicking the stuffing out of a fanged teddy bear lying in the gutter.

  “Thanks,” the Fata Morgana said, “but I’m fine where I’m at.”

  I turned to look at Jinx in the back seat.

  “Clear a path,” I said.

  His eyes glistened, as if he were on the verge of tears.

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really. And don’t hold back.”

  He gave me a tentative smile, his eyes shining with a mixture of hope and disbelief.

  “Go on,” I said. “Do your worst.”

  His smile became an ear-splitting grin. He opened the Deathmobile’s rear passenger door, got out, slammed the door shut, and ran into the street, pulling Cuthbert Junior out of his pocket as he went.

  Connie rolled down her window and called out, “Go help him!”

  The wraiths that had shepherded us through the Murk and across the Rimline streaked silently through the air after Jinx, and then the fun began in earnest.

  Jinx became a blur as he wielded his sledgehammer with devastating force, sending Incubi flying in all directions. The wraiths flanked him, fending off any Incubi which tried to attack from behind, and, when they managed to carve out a small open space, Connie inched the Deathmobile out of the alley. We proceeded this way, moving forward several feet at a time, Jinx and the wraiths making room for us, the Deathmobile blasting its green headlight beams whenever any Incubi came too close, aging them until they were too frail and weak to be a threat.

  Jinx’s mad laughter filled the air, and more than a few Incubi who heard the blood-curdling sound chose to beat a hasty retreat, clearing even more space for us. Instead of growing tired as he fought, Jinx seemed to draw strength from the havoc he wreaked, and his movements became faster, his blows deadlier, until he was spinning around like a dervish, Cuthbert Junior held out before him like a whirling scythe of destruction. Incubi screamed as they flew through the air, bleeding and broken, and Jinx’s laughter increased in volume until it became the only sound we could hear. Never had Jinx seemed more like a monster to me than he did then, but at least he was my monster, and in this fashion we made our way through the Cesspit toward Newtown.

  As we traveled, we began to see more vacant lots where buildings had once stood, and we even saw several vanish. It happened so quickly. One instant they were there, the next they weren’t. Driving became easier as many of the Incubi battling in the street also disappeared, leaving fewer obstacles for Jinx and the wraiths to remove. The Fata Morgana and I witnessed and remembered the people and places that were excised, but Connie didn’t. She was completely unaware that anything changed. In a way, her obliviousness was a blessing, as it allowed her to remain calm while she drove.

  Newtown doesn’t exactly have skyscrapers, but many of the buildings are modern steel and glass and multi-s
toried. It does have a skyline, albeit a modest one, and as we drew nearer I could see that it had changed. Maybe as many as a third of the largest buildings were gone, leaving gaps through which only the Canopy’s illusion of stars could be seen.

  At least none of the streets were gone – yet – and eventually we reached the Sick House. I feared we’d get there and find an empty space where the hospital had once been, but it was still there, looking as nightmarish as ever. Connie pulled the Deathmobile up to the main entrance, where Jinx waited, sitting on the curb and mopping his brow with a large polka-dotted handkerchief, a gore-smeared Cuthbert Junior lying next to him. The wraiths dove back into the Deathmobile, entering the coffin in the back until such time as they were needed again.

  The Fata Morgana and I got out of the Deathmobile, and, immediately, something struck me as wrong. I looked skyward and saw that, while the Canopy’s stars were still there, Espial was gone.

  I turned back to speak to Connie through the open passenger door.

  “Do you mind waiting out here?” I asked. “After this, I want to go to the Rookery and check on the Unwakened.”

  “Sure,” Connie said. Then she added, “It’s really real, isn’t it? The disappearances, I mean.”

  “Are you starting to see them?” I asked.

  “No. But there’s a lot of empty space in Nod. I mean, a lot. And while part of me thinks that’s perfectly normal, another part is sure it’s wrong.” She glanced up. “And there’s something not right about the sky too, but I don’t know what.”

  “It’ll be okay,” I told her. “Once Jinx and I see Melody, we’ll go to the Rookery. If we have to, we’ll rouse one of the Unwakened and see if he or she can tell us what’s happening and how to fix it.”

  I know what you’re thinking. If the Unwakened could stop the excisions, why didn’t we head straight to the Rookery? Because I was lying to Connie. I had no idea how to wake one of the master dreamers, and, even if I did, I didn’t know how dangerous it might be. It was possible the Unwakened were already fighting whatever force was causing the excisions, which would explain why they were happening slowly instead of all at once. If we woke one of them, we might very well weaken the group to the point where they could no longer fight, and that would be the end of everything. But I felt I had to tell Connie something. I couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting behind the wheel of the Deathmobile, waiting for us and becoming more frightened with each passing moment.