Obadiah swore in an old, old form of Gaelic. Malcolm understood his words. He hadn’t tested whether or not he could still understand every human language without study. Could he possibly be not completely human? He should probably go see a doctor and get examined, but he wouldn’t dare.
“Caelieus remains lost to us. I’ve assigned Heris and Tiaret to search for him. We’ve figured out he’s left Easter Island.”
Malcolm slapped himself on the forehead. “Jesus, I completely forgot. He called me.”
“Who? Caelieus?”
“Yes. Shit! Things have been so crazy! You remember how he was before we forced the regeneration?”
“How could I forget it?”
Malcolm shuddered, recalling Caelieus’s frail form, nothing but skin and bones, with blood streaming down his nostrils. “I don’t know what Aelia kept records of, but he didn’t just transport to the Cos. He’d been suffering in similar states at various times, but he eventually came out of them.”
Sounds of papers rustling carried through the line as if Obadiah searched through Aelia’s things. “No, she didn’t write any of that down.”
“I figured she hadn’t. The only reason I knew is because I started to have the same things happen to me. He called me, and before I could tell anyone, I passed out. When I woke up a week later, I didn’t get a chance to mention it, because Dharma Knight took priority.”
“I see you also haven’t logged in to give your account about what happened with your missed target.”
Yet another neighbor walked by, this one an older gentleman who eyed Malcolm. He lowered his voice. “Sorry. I’ll get it in. I promise.” He’d stalled doing that too because it’d be the last target he’d enter. “Anyway, Caelieus called, but I don’t think he remembers who he is. He used the alias Jace Reed. It was one of the passports I had in the go-bag for him.”
“I’ll pass that along to our sisters. That will give them a better trail to follow. Gabriel, we have a bigger problem than Caelieus.” Obadiah paused. “I really didn’t want to say this over the phone, but I feel you won’t come unless I do.” Malcolm swallowed, waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. “Aelia has also gone missing, and the assassination of our targets has continued.”
“What?” Malcolm jumped from the chair. “Who? When?”
“That’s why I wanted you to come here. You’re the only one I trust, and now that I think of it, if you aren’t a dream thief anymore, then you can help more. I won’t have to worry about you vanishing off to a target. Please, my brother, help me.”
Debbie peeked out of the door, eyes narrowing as Malcolm set his mouth in a thin line. “I’ll help. What do you want me to do?”
Debbie’s shoulders slumped as she closed the door with a soft click. He could feel her disappointment and resentment radiating through the thick door and onto the warm porch.
“I’ve only barely scratched the surface. As of right now, I’ve discovered three more of our targets murdered, but here’s the thing. They don’t follow any particular order that I can find. They haven’t been killed in the order their dreams were stolen. Geographically they are spread out without a logical connection to any of them. Plus, the MO is different in each case.” The steady clackity clack of clicking keys rang through the cell.
“Hold on a minute.” Malcolm stepped through the front door, jogging to the left and into his home office. His feet sunk into the plush, off-white carpet as he skittered from box to box, rummaging through three of them before he found what he needed.
He plopped down into the computer desk chair, opened the little spiral-bound notebook, and clicked a pen. “Okay start from the beginning. Who died first?”
“The first one, Tabor Petrov, died about three weeks ago from multiple gunshot wounds in Khabarovsk, Russia. Per Halek’s report from the autopsy, including photos,” Obadiah cleared his throat and rustled through some papers, “this guy got pumped full of more lead than RoboCop.”
Malcolm was amazed at Halek’s talent for getting sensitive information. “Halek’s certainly embraced the new tech of the age, huh?”
“Oh yes, our wayward brother has been hooked since the late seventies, but his new computer skills have certainly come in handy.”
Malcolm wouldn’t have equated the term computer skills to the supreme hacker Halek had become. Halek had broken into the most solid government databases without a trace. Well, the fact that he’d made himself his own back door to most databases so he could waltz in whenever he pleased had helped him go unnoticed. He’d also inserted himself into key government positions, weaseling even more backdoors into multiple systems throughout the world. At least that’s what he’d said. Malcolm supposed part of that could’ve been bragging. Aelia hadn’t trusted him with their system, though. Malcolm never understood why. “Halek got the police reports?” Malcolm scribbled a large question mark on the paper.
“Yes, the Russian equivalent. I’ll send over the Cos file along with the report. That is, if you can still read it?” The question hung in the air. He hadn’t had any issues with the Gaelic.
“Guess we’ll find out. If not, there’s always google translate.”
Obadiah huffed a laugh. “Petro died three weeks ago, but the Cos file is six months old.”
Malcolm scribbled the information down. “Who’s the second target?”
“A Florence Gagnon. She was murdered eight days ago in St. Andrews, Canada. Police reported a rape and a burglary, and she was bludgeoned to death. Her Cos file popped up ten days ago.”
Malcolm shuddered, fingers trembling as he wrote the woman’s name.
“Last one was Joseph Merang, aka Big Joe, from Houston, Texas. Someone slit his throat five days ago and dumped his body the following day. The date on his Cos file was nine days ago.”
“Couldn’t this be a coincidence? The M.O. is different for each of them. They’re spread out over the world. Do they have any connections?”
“Not that I can tell. They’re different ages, races, and nationalities. None had the same dream thief. Different socioeconomic classes, educations, and professions. The only thing that ties them together is having been a former target. Plus, they were murdered within days of their dream being stolen.”
Malcolm tapped the pen on the now half-full piece of paper. “Are you sure we need to get involved in this?”
“Brother, one, maybe two, could be a coincidence, but three? It’s our duty to see this through, because if these people are dying because of us…”
He left the rest unsaid as Malcolm retreated into his own thoughts. “How did you figure this out?”
Obadiah sighed, long and heavy. “I received an encrypted email from Aelia with a list of their names.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”
3
But we just got here.” Debbie slammed the soiled dust rag on the kitchen counter. Stacks and stacks of unpacked plates, cups, and crystal glasses littered the granite countertops. Every dark cherry-wood cabinet door stood wide open with various silver pots and pans in the lower shelves. His espresso maker sat askew as if Debbie had been about to plug it in before coming to find him on the front porch. A long scrap of parchment with several lines of Debbie’s handwriting sat on the edge of the island with a pen lying across it. She’d made a list of items for them to pick up at the grocery store. She’d listed pork chops, potatoes, and corn on the cob at the top of the list.
“Pork chops?”
She shrugged, not hiding her dismay. “I thought I’d make homemade fried pork chops, mashed potatoes with fresh brown gravy, and corn on the cob slathered in butter for dinner.”
He’d hadn’t gotten to try pork chops yet. If they were anything like bacon, he definitely wanted to try them soon.
“I know we did, baby, but you don’t understand, Obadiah needs me.”
“I thought you were done with all that. You’re human now, aren’t you?” She turned her brown, sorrowful puppy-dog eyes on him.
“Yes, but something crazy is going on. We keep our secrets close. There are only a small handful of people who know about us, and even then, we don’t divulge the whole truth.”
Debbie whirled on him, brown eyes flashing, with her lips pressed in a thin line. “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t told me everything?”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m telling you there is a problem, and because very few people know about us, it means that very few can help. We’re used to taking care of our own business.” As a dream thief, he’d understood every spoken and written language without ever having to study it, but the intricacies of a woman’s mind and how it processed information was something he’d never understand. Human thoughts were often erratic and illogical, but a female with hurt feelings went beyond that.
She turned from him, tracing a finger over the fine brown speckles in the granite. She swallowed and said, “Fine. Should I go ahead and open the new store without you?”
How he wished he could read minds. “What are you thinking?
Debbie sniffed, shook her head, and picked up a bottle of cleanser and a clean rag. The bottle made fast, angry pchit, pchit, pchit sounds. Climbing onto a stool, she jerked the rag back and forth. “Nothing.”
He gritted his teeth together. “Clearly, it’s not nothing.”
“It isn’t fair so I’m not going to say it.” Squinch, squinch. She sprayed the next shelf, leaned forward, stretching to get in the far back corners.
“Tell me anyway.” He snuck up behind her, wanting to run his hands up her bare legs, but he refrained, guessing she wouldn’t be in the mood and would take the advance the wrong way. Adding fuel to this already tenuous fire was a bad idea. Instead, he stepped back, grabbed yet another rag, and sprayed the next shelf.
“It’s…” she climbed onto the counter to reach the very top shelf, “you keep talking about the other dream thieves. You refer to them as we and us. I assumed when you changed you were mine. I know it’s stupid and selfish. You’ve been a dream thief for centuries. Despite your body being different, your mind isn’t. I feel…left out.” Her fast, angry swipes slowed into slow absentminded waves of the hand.
Her words pressed on him, pulling him into two directions. Part of him wanted to give it all up, but the other part was still responsible. The smell of his forgotten General Tso’s chicken wafted over and his stomach growled. This brought his attention back to his new body and he realized he really needed to make a clean break from his old life. He wasn’t like them anymore. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. You’re right, you know. I’m not one of them anymore. I’ll call him back.” Malcolm turned to leave the kitchen, but Debbie grabbed his shoulder.
“You might not be a dream thief anymore, but they’re still your family. You can’t abandon them. You, better than anyone, know how precious the connections between people are. Besides, we have time.” She hopped down from the counter, reached up, and kissed him, slow and methodical. He opened his mouth to her, and her tongue slipped over his.
The soft touch heated his blood, chasing away the chill her words had brought. The kiss deepened and the moan that escaped her lips sent a shockwave through him, concentrating on his new parts. He elongated and hardened. He cupped the back of her head, fully claiming her mouth, before moving on to her neck, nipping and kissing, while his other hand slid down her back to grasp her firm backside. Her own hand ran down his chest and slipped into the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Her fingers enclosed the length of him while one finger ran around the tip, swirling the faint fluid.
Malcolm bit down on her neck, hard, and moved to unbutton his blue dress shirt that hung just a bit too long on Debbie’s slender frame. He restrained himself from yanking the shirt open, letting the buttons fly wild, while her thumb methodically moved in a slow circle. He growled, and Debbie laughed, low and sensual, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He leaned back to stare into her eyes, showing her his promise of how he’d get her back. She raised an eyebrow, a challenge, one he’d gladly accept. The last button free, he eased the shirt back from her bare skin, admiring the breasts drawn tight, nipples hard. He met her gaze again and lowered his head slowly, deliberately, and sucked one nipple into his mouth. She shuddered, closed her eyes, and arched her back. At last, her hand squeezed closed and began to move up and down his length. Not to be outdone, he slipped a hand into the front of her panties, finding her wet and ready. With one finger, he flicked at the apex of her thighs while he moved to the other nipple. Her hips rocked against his hand in time with her hand that was rhythmically pulling him. The tiny whimpers she made undid him. He stepped back, grabbed her by the bottom, lifted her, and placed her on the cool counter. He yanked his bottoms down and sprang free. He guided Debbie to the edge, pulled the thin fabric of her panties to the side and pushed inside her tight, molten core.
She gasped as her body contracted, adjusting to him, and grew, if possible, wetter. He let himself have one second to enjoy the feel of her, tight, warm, and so deliciously wet before moving in and out. At first he went slowly so he could concentrate on how she felt inside, but he soon built speed, holding onto her hips. He drove in and out of her. He let his hand slide across her stomach, underneath the panties, and let his thumb slip down once again to the apex of her thighs. He turned his thumb in a fast circle, pressing at the precise pressure she liked, to the brink of being overwhelming, and matched the speed of his thrusts.
Over and over he drew in and out, the sound of skin hitting skin heightening every sensation. Their panting became more and more erratic. Debbie grabbed his shoulder, fingernails digging in, but he didn’t notice the sting. Her hips moved in time with him, and she arched her back, letting him drive in deeper, spreading her legs wide for him. “Oh, Malcolm. Malcolm,” she panted his name as she climaxed. He let her ride through her climax before grabbing her hips again. He thrust inside her hard and fast as her aftershocks quivered around him. The sensations drove him over the final edge. He slammed deep into her as he exploded, the sensations ripping him of all energy.
Malcolm embraced Debbie, their sweaty bodies pressed together, breathing hard, cooling down, relishing their lovemaking. He leaned into her lest he collapse on the cool hardwood floor. Gods, how he loved this, loved her. He didn’t want to leave her. He straightened, not easing out of her. “Come with me.”
Sweat glistened on her clenched brow. “What?”
“We haven’t opened the new store yet. Like you said, we have time. Come with me, join my world, and meet the others.”
“Really?” She smiled, caressing his face.
“Really.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. Her pelvic muscles clenched, released, and clenched again. Leaning back with a wicked gleam in her eyes, she said, “I think we need a kiss to seal the deal.” Those glorious muscles tightened again, just in case he didn’t catch her meaning.
“By your command, MI ‘lady.”
She laughed her wicked laugh once again and pushed his shoulders down. He slid out as he kneeled before her and complied with her wishes, pleasing her many times more.
4
Malcolm yawned, ears popping. Beside him, Debbie leaned against his shoulder as she slept. He snuck a glance her way to find her mouth open wide with a small amount of drool at the corner of her mouth. His heart swelled at the sight of her. Of course, being a typical human female, she would’ve been embarrassed if she knew he spotted the drool, but to him, she’d never been more beautiful. His love for her rolled through him making him appreciate all her subtle flaws and quirks that made her unique. Best of all, she loved him back. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her if he still had eternity.
Love was such a curious and wonderful thing, and he’d never been able to feel it in quite this way. It wasn’t just sex, though the intensity of the sensations with that experience blew his mind away, but no, now all his feelings had changed. Si
nce losing his immortality, life had slowed down. As his days were now numbered, he’d have thought the seconds would tick away like an ever-increasing alarm of doom, but instead, more than ever before, each moment passed easy and unhurried.
The new threat to the dream thieves didn’t quite have the urgency things once did. Perhaps the singularity of the dream thief power had always been there like a ticking bomb. The constant weight of saving the world, over and over again, never getting a break, never getting to experience one lifetime as a human, had festered and constantly tormented him. Seeing life through their eyes and experiencing all the world had to offer made each life precious.
There had been times the dreams he’d stolen had led to mass losses of human lives. He knew, beyond any doubt, that for the good of humanity those dreams had been necessary, but it was never an easy pill to swallow. The creators gave him just enough to see, if those deaths hadn’t occurred, how much worse things would’ve been. Those had been “for the greater good,” but now, he suffered through the pangs of each of those losses. Each of those lost mattered in the scheme of things. Each person had been a child, a parent, a sibling, or a friend of someone. They’d been grieved and missed. Perhaps heroes wanted a death with meaning, but growing old and dying had another sort of honor. Building a family, a legacy, to carry on parts of yourself long after you’d gone…that would be a great way to leave this world. Malcolm sighed, pondering at how easily his thoughts drifted to death these days.
Obadiah would be pleased with these new musings of his. He’d preached much of these same sentiments for as long as Malcolm could remember. He still did the job, his duty as he put it, but he’d grieved the lost ones. Aelia had suspected he kept a separate account of his stolen dreams, listing each of the names of the lost ones. Once Malcolm might have laughed at that but not anymore.
The Dream Awakened Page 2
