The clown watched me silently, and I tried not to shudder. His pasty white skin peeled away from his mouth and eyes, leaving exposed muscle and tendons in place of makeup. The red tip of his bulbous nose oozed pus and tufts of crimson hair dotted his head. The upturn of skin around his mouth made him appear like he was smiling, and in truth, he might have been. A twinkle filled his solid black eyes. On his black and white suit were three enormous mustard colored pom-poms and a polka-dot bow tie with a black flower at its center.
“Sandman.” His voice raked against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard and his head bobbed erratically. “A pleasure to meet the legend.”
I would waste no breath engaging the clown in conversation. We weren’t there to chat but to tear each other apart. I smashed the spiked ball into his arm. Ruby blood seeped into the surrounding fabric. He laughed, a high-squeal. I struck again and again, hitting limbs, but the clown stood in place, taking each hit when he should have been writhing on the ground. His head continued to bob, growing faster by the second, until it seemed it would separate from his neck. The laugh rose and fell. I clutched the flail’s handle and took a step closer, a bud of unease growing. If I could get close enough, I could stab the pointed end through his heart and end it.
But the clown’s laugh grew and grew and grew. A spray of green acid shot from the flower at the base of his throat and hit my chin, searing a trail down my neck. I roared against the pain, and the flail fell to the ground in a rain of sand. I lifted the neck of my tunic and swiped at the liquid, but it only made it worse.
The clown darted into the mouth of the cave. I stumbled after him, gathering more sand into my hands, and let the darkness of the narrow crevice swallow me.
The acoustics carried Nora’s voice toward me, and it gave me the incentive I needed to steel myself against the blazing pain of the clown’s acid. He tapped my shoulder. I spun, but he was gone. Another tap, again from behind. I drew a shaky breath, the sound echoing in my head, and pretended to turn. Instead, I leapt back outside the cave. When the clown appeared again, his back was to me, facing the spot where I should have been.
I lunged, stretching my sand into a piece of wire between two blocks of wood, and wrapped it around his pale neck. He lurched forward but the wire sliced into his flesh. He gurgled a laugh. A splash of blood flew from his mouth, then his head turned slowly. Bit by bit, crack by crack, his face made the trek around to look me in the eye.
My muscles tensed, and I braced myself against the narrow walls.
With his body still facing away from me, the clown coughed. “Lord of Dreams.” He grinned, his teeth red with blood. “Our master is coming for you.”
I wrenched both blocks and his head thumped to the floor. Our. I dropped the wire and ran deeper into the cave. I knew it was a risk to send Nora in alone, just as my rushing in to help was, but none of that mattered. I had to wake her and her sister up before it was too late.
I sloshed into putrid pink liquid.
“Nor—” I tried, but it came out as a wheeze. I lifted a hand to the widening hole in my neck.
An enormous serpentine nightmare arched from the water. Nora screamed for her sister to wake up, and a hiss pierced the air. The snake lunged. Nora swung. I stepped forward, but it was too late. There wasn’t time to reach them.
A flash of silver, another swing of the knife. The snake hissed again and knocked into the bed in the middle of the room. My heart dropped to my stomach. Nora gripped the edge of the mattress before she could fall backward. The knife I gave her was covered in slick, black blood. It ran down her hand, her arm, dripping on her thigh.
The snake flopped into the liquid, one feather of its hood hanging, half severed. Nora gasped. I moved toward her again, conscious of the danger swimming so close. She jerked at the sight of me, her fingers digging into Katie’s arm. The meat mallet was gone.
“Go back,” she called.
I shook my head.
“Go. Back. It’s not safe.” She turned to her sister. “Wake up, Katie. I swear if any of us die saving you, I will haunt you for all eternity.”
“I can’t wake up.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t.”
Nora said something to her sister, but the roaring in my head prevented me from hearing. She was still talking when Katie vanished. Nora fell forward without her sister’s body there to lean into. I tried to speak again but my vocal cords were too damaged. I had to get back to the beach and heal. The Weaver wasn’t going to take this lying down. We had to be ready.
Nora pushed up onto her elbows and scanned me from head to toe. Her eyes widened at the sight of my neck, then again when they reached my knees. A series of bubbles popped a foot away. “Run!” When I hesitated, she said, “Sandman, go. I’ll see you soon.”
Then she vanished.
The snake shot out from the pink goop, straight at the empty hospital bed. Its jaws clamped down on the metal frame, and it shrieked in fury. I shifted back toward the crevice, where the decapitated clown lay across the entrance to the cave. The nightmare paused, watching me with a flick of clear eyelids. It inched forward. Once it decided to lunge at me, it would be over. I eased out of the liquid, watching each subtle movement the serpent made, then spun and darted back into the passageway. The snake slammed into the narrow crevice a mere second after I slid safely inside.
I reached deep inside myself, focusing on the beach, and shuffled sideways toward the opening. Darkness faded. My center shifted, then sand was beneath my feet instead of stone. I stumbled backward, hitting the ground. There was barely enough time to register the familiar sky above me before the sand swathed my wounds, burying me, knitting me back together. I closed my eyes and let the hum of it fill me.
We did it. Nora did it.
A faint smile spread across my lips, and I faded into unconsciousness.
19
Nora
I woke in a pool of sweat. My heart pounded in my ears, and I stared at the ceiling, gasping for air. The scent of rot lingered, but there was no mistaking where I was. Moonlight filtered into my bedroom and Paul’s snores traveled through the door over the purr of the air conditioning. I did it. I woke up before the snake could strike again, and Katie woke up before me. Safe from the Weaver.
I kicked free of the tangled sheet and grabbed my phone from the dresser. My mom’s cell went straight to voicemail. I shoved my dresser away from the door—a permanently necessary precaution—and bolted from the room. “Paul,” I shouted, banging on his door. “Paul, we have to go back to the hospital.” His snoring stopped, but there was no reply. I pounded on the wood again. “I’m taking the car.”
There was a thud inside his room followed by a series of footsteps. When the door swung open, my step-father blinked the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”
Every second I stood there was torture. I had to know it worked. I had to be sure that I didn’t go through all of that for nothing. That the Sandman and I hadn’t risked our lives and failed. The blood drained from my face. Sandman. He got out—he had to. But his face. The skin on his chin and neck was gone, leaving a red blistering wound. I gripped the door frame. I had to get back, but first I had to know Katie was safe because the next time I went to the Night World, I wasn’t leaving without the Weaver’s head on a platter. “Hurry. We have to go back to the hospital.”
He stood straighter. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t tell him I thought my sister might be awake or why. “Probably nothing, but I need to see Katie.”
He grabbed a clean shirt off the top of the folded laundry in a basket. “Have you talked to your mother?”
“She’s not picking up,” I answered, barely keeping the jitters at bay.
He nodded. “Give me a second. I’ll drive.”
With that, I ran outside to wait in the car, my head pounding.
My muscles strained with the effort to not race to the elevator, but I didn’t want to call unwanted attention to myself. I already had e
nough of that between my mother and Detective Bell. Finding Katie on my own was going to lead back to an interrogation room. Unless Katie cleared me. Unless she remembered something. I’m not sure which would be worse for her though—remembering or forgetting. Remembering.
When the doors pinged open on the third floor, I jumped. Paul scowled at me but thankfully said nothing. He led the way past the officer standing outside Katie’s room and into a whirl of activity. Machines beeped steadily while two nurses stood beside the bed, checking tubes and screens. A doctor on the far side of the room was deep in a hushed conversation with my mother but paused in his speech when we entered the room. “Can I help you?” he asked with a thick accent.
My mother started. “What are you two doing here?”
My vision tunneled to the bed. Katie’s feet and legs were hidden beneath a white blanket, unmoving. I bulldozed into the room, knocking into the nurse standing at a laptop on a rolling podium. “Katie?”
“Nora?” My sister sat up. Her big, bright, beautiful eyes were wide open. Haunted, but open. “Nora!”
I flung myself at her to a chorus of shocked complaints, but Katie latched onto me, sobbing into my shoulder. Her hands shook against my back, and I tightened my embrace. This was real life, not a dream. She was here. She was safe. The pit in my stomach filled with relief. “Thank God,” I breathed.
“Thank you,” Katie said. Her voice was dry. Broken. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I held so tightly it felt as if her ribs would crack. Hushed voices resumed behind us, rushed and confused. “I’m sorry.” I shivered. “This is my fault.”
“I had this awful dream,” she said quietly so only I heard.
I buried my face in her hair and nodded.
“You were there,” she said, half questioning the idea.
“I was there.”
She sniffled. “But how?”
A shadow flickered near the closet. Gold eyes blinked in and out, and I tensed. He was less present than before—a flat image against the gossamer screen. I glanced at the clock. We should have another eighteen hours before he was ready, yet he was strong enough to press against the barrier between Day and Night. My elation drained away, dread taking its place. But my sister was back, and she was never going there again.
My mother’s hand landed on my shoulder. “We should let the staff finish their tests.”
“No. I want to talk to Nora,” Katie said. When no one moved, she added, “Alone.”
I clasped Katie’s hands, begging her with a look not to make me discuss everything then and there. Now that I knew she was awake, I had to make sure the Sandman made it out of that cave. The pit in my stomach yawned open. He was hurt when I saw him last—what if it was too much? What if he couldn’t escape? That would be my fault too. I pressed a hand over the ache in my chest.
“Now,” Katie insisted, her nostrils flared.
The room fell silent, a million unanswered questions pressing down on us. What happened the night she went missing? Who took her? Had she been in the storage unit the whole time? Why was she unconscious? Was anything physically wrong? Emotionally, there was going to be a plethora. I knew it, the doctors knew it, and the Weaver lurking in the corner knew it. The only one that might be in denial was our mother. She already had one crazy daughter, after all. But hopefully talking to professionals would help my sister come to terms with whatever it was she needed. Not that it had for me.
The doctor, an older man, moved first, ushering the nurses from the room. Paul practically dragged our mother out after them, whispering to her. When the door clicked shut, the officer stationed outside shifted in front of the small window.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
“There’s too much to tell.” I glanced at the Weaver who grinned back. My heart slammed against my ribcage. I wouldn’t give him the reaction he was looking for. Wouldn’t let him see my panic or my fear. “All the deaths… They’re because I have something someone wants. He took you to get to me.”
“Oh, please,” she hissed. “What could you possibly have that someone would want that bad? I mean, what the hell, Nora? It was like I was transported to some sort of alternate reality.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Breathe. I had the same questions she did once. She deserved answers, but not with the Weaver listening in. Not before I made sure the Sandman was okay.
“You just waltzed into my head. I didn’t imagine you there. It was real.”
If anyone understood the feeling that something was real when everyone else thought it was imaginary, I did. There was a difference in someone being part of your dream and someone actually being in your head. I couldn’t remember what the former felt like, not really, but I distinctly remembered how the first night with the Sandman jarred me. How different it felt.
“No, you didn’t imagine anything,” I agreed. The Weaver shifted closer. Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him. “The Sandman and I came to wake you up before the Weaver could destroy you.”
Katie blinked puffy eyes. “The Sandman? Are you talking about that freak you used to dream about? God, Nora, seriously?”
“Don’t call him a freak,” I snapped. “We just risked everything for you. After what you saw over there, you still don’t believe me? You just admitted my presence there was real, so why couldn’t he be real too?”
“So... You’ve seen him this whole time?” She narrowed her eyes, head tilted in disbelief. “He never went away?”
“I don’t have time to explain.” I launched off the bed to pace between my sister and the Nightmare Lord. My hands shook at my sides. Don’t look at him. “The Weaver is here, and he’s pissed.”
“Keeper,” the Weaver chimed in. “Pissed doesn’t come close to describing what I am.”
Katie didn’t react. Surviving the nightmare hadn’t given her the ability to see him now that she was awake. I didn’t know why I expected it to. Her gaze darted around the room, the machine beeping faster, and climbed to her knees. “The clown? It’s here?”
“The clown is dead,” the Weaver said.
“Not the clown. The clown is dead,” I relayed before I could stop myself.
My sister slumped against the pillows and covered her face. “He was... Nora, he did so many things.”
“I know.” I turned to glare at the Weaver. “I saw the marks.”
“Needles,” she said with a shiver.
I glanced over my shoulder at the tattoo on her inner wrist. “Since when are you afraid of needles?”
“Since always.” When she saw me staring, she lifted her wrist, exposing her tattoo. “I was trying to face my fears or whatever.”
“Do you want to know what else they did in the cave?” the Weaver asked.
I whirred back to the shadowed corner. “Shut up,” I snapped, spittle flying.
“Who are you talking to?” Katie asked.
The Weaver shifted, his face straining with the effort to get closer to me. “I must say, I admire you for leaving the Sandman to die alone.”
My knees wobbled. “What?”
“What?” Katie parroted. “Nora, are you having a meltdown?”
“I’m not talking to you,” I said to my sister. Then to the Weaver, “Repeat what you just said.”
“Winning is a subjective thing, is it not?” he asked.
My heart dropped. Exploded. Shattered. “You’re lying.”
“You would know what a liar looked like, wouldn’t you? But when have I ever lied to you, Dream Keeper? Why would I need to when I have so many of your people left to toy with?”
I fell onto the edge of the bed. Katie shook my arm, her voice droning in my ears. “You can’t kill each other. He said so.”
“Half true.” He pressed against the fabric holding him back. “Technically, I suppose.” He sighed dramatically. “But I did not lay a hand on your precious Dream Lord. I didn’t need to.”
“Liar.”
“Nora!” Katie yanked my hair. “
What are you doing?”
I ripped the bag of sand from around my neck and pressed it into her hand. “Sprinkle this in your eyes if you’re going to sleep and you’ll be safe. Don’t let them see it. Don’t go to sleep without it.”
“Please,” she begged. “Stop. You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.”
I kissed her forehead. “Trust me. I’ll fix everything.”
She gripped my wrist. “You’re always running away from things, but you can’t run away from this. I need to know what happened to me.”
“I’m not running,” I promised. Not anymore.
The door swung open and Detective Bell stood in the doorway, the knot of his tie loose, his shirt wrinkled. Energy jolted my body, not because I was worried about another line of questioning but because I needed to get home to sleep. The Sandman wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.
“I’m glad to see you awake,” the detective said. He glanced at me, then back to my sister. “Are you feeling up to a few questions?”
“I...”
Our mother bustled into the room. “Is this really necessary right now?” she demanded. “She only woke up an hour ago.”
“We need to know what happened,” he replied. “It could help us locate the killer.”
“Killer?” Katie asked.
I tore my wrist from Katie’s grip, unable to listen to them explain what happened the night she disappeared, and ran. I nearly slammed into Paul on my way around the corner. He juggled two cups of coffee, nearly spilling one all over himself. “Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Home.” I forced a smile. “Katie asked me to get some of her things from the house. Her phone and toothbrush, stuff like that. Can I have the keys?” He glared at me. I could see the wheels turning in his head. Maybe her mother is right, he was thinking. Maybe she is crazy. Maybe she did have something to do with everything. A whole list of maybes I didn’t care to know. He could question my sanity all he wanted if he gave me the keys. “Please? I’ll be right back. I swear.”
Dream Keeper Page 18
