The Dream Awakened

by Leann M Rettell

  Malcolm noticed Obadiah didn’t show them the body. It must’ve been truly grizzly. He’d be forever grateful for sparing Debbie that one small travesty.

  “The last was a woman named Angela Singer. She fell,” Obadiah put air quotes around the word, “in front of a bus yesterday in Illinois. Her Cos file was two years ago by Lysander. Long story short, she’d made plans to marry a man in her hometown, but with the dream gone, she lost interest in him, and because of that, when she’s eventually offered a new job in Mexico as an accountant, she would have taken it. While there, she would stumble upon a money laundering and drug trafficking ring and aid in them getting caught.”

  The three remained quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, with only the hum of computer monitors and the ticking of a clock in another room echoing softly through the cavernous halls of the Cave of Scrolls. The methodical tick, tick, tick grated on every nerve like a horrible foreshadowing that Malcolm couldn’t shake.

  “I need a drink.” Debbie shivered with the weight of all they’d seen and discussed.

  The amount of loss and how easily those lives had been ended weighed on Malcolm like a rock deep in the pit of his stomach. “You and me both.”

  “Care if I join you?” Obadiah logged out of the monitor and stood with a stretch. “Let’s get you reintegrated in the system. It’ll only take a minute, then we can head out. I know a great place not too far.”

  The three emerged from the white stucco building into the bright, hot day with clear blue skies and fluffy white clouds that flowed in a slow, methodical dance, morphing into varying shapes. Malcolm had spent a hundred lifetimes laying on his back, staring up at this same sky, never feeling like a part of it. Now everything had changed. Everything seemed more beautiful from the growing weed creeping up from the cracks in the road to the birds perched on the roof’s edge high above his head. Life echoed around him. How anyone, least of all a dream thief, could take that away from another with such ease appalled him.

  His resolved hardened into an impenetrable fortitude. He would find out who was responsible for destroying what the dream thieves built and stop them. Obadiah halted in front of him, dragging Malcolm from the melancholy of his own thoughts.

  “After you, madam.” Opening the door, Obadiah dipped his head toward Debbie whose answering shy smile made her lovelier than ever. A creeping blush stained her pretty face. Inside, an exotic waitress with thick, dark hair ushered them to a table in the back. Antique sconces lined the walls, giving the room a subdued light with a hint of romantic ambiance.

  “What can I get you?” The waitress asked, pulling a pen from its perch over one ear.

  As she jotted down their drink orders, Obadiah’s cell rang. He mouthed, “Tiaret.” He answered the phone, covering his mouth, and spoke in hushed tones Malcolm didn’t pick up. It was another reminder of his lost super abilities, but at that moment, Debbie squeezed his hand. and he realized it didn’t matter.

  They waited for Obadiah to finish his call, and Malcolm noted each crease of his forehead, flaring nostrils, and widening pupils. Obadiah ended the call with a sigh, setting the phone on the table.

  “How bad is it?” Malcolm asked.

  “Bad.” The waitress returned with their drinks, and Obadiah downed his bourbon in one shot. “Can I get another, darling?”

  The waitress took the empty glass, setting it on her tray. “Right away.”

  “Caelieus has boarded a boat out of the Gulf of Mexico.”

  “Why is that bad?” Debbie sipped on her glass of white wine.

  Malcolm took a large pull from the bottle of beer. “Because if he transports, he’ll give himself away.”

  “It’s hard to hide that on a boat.”

  “Wouldn’t he just make it seem like he’d fallen overboard?”

  Malcolm smirked, despite the worry in his gut. He envisioned countless times where he’d done that very thing when traveling in the past. How he gathered up his belongings and jumped from a ship, sinking and then transporting. It wasn’t pleasant to appear soaking wet. “We don’t know what his state of mind is. He might not think to do that.”

  Debbie took another sip of wine. “Seems like that would be better than disappearing on a plane.” They always ran that risk, but so far none of them had. Boat rides were another thing altogether. Those took days or weeks.

  Obadiah accepted his drink, holding it in his hands like a prayer. “We’ve got to find him and soon.” He locked gazes with Malcolm. “Can you feel it unraveling?”

  His heart clenched in his chest. No, he didn’t feel it. Not anymore.

  7

  The phone rang in the darkness somewhere to Malcolm’s left. His hand fumbled on the table next to him, searching for the familiar smoothness of his cell. His hand grasped the ringing, vibrating annoyance, and he squinted into the too bright phone. Obadiah’s number displayed on the screen.

  “Whose it?” Debbie slurred beside him, the words running together as she rubbed at her tired eyes.

  “It’s Obadiah. Go back to sleep.”

  “Mmmmm.” She rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.

  He hit the answer button, sat up, and slid his bare feet onto the floor. “Hello?”

  “Malcolm, another target has been murdered.” All lingering traces of sleep vanished with those simple, heavy words.

  “Who? Where?”

  Malcolm slipped into the bathroom. The chilled tiles further yanked the comfort of sleeping away and the false sense of security out from under him. He closed the door and flipped on the piercing white light shining over the large mirror. Dark circles rimmed his too white eyes, and he noted a vein in his neck pulsating fast, in time with his racing heart.

  “Her name was Tara Booth, a twenty-one-year-old college student. She lived in Sanibel, Florida.”

  “What was her dream?”

  Papers rattled through the phone. “Let’s see. Dream starts with Tara at a carnival. She sees a lion trapped in a cage. He stalks back and forth before sitting before her, purring. She reaches a hand to pet it, but it’s morphed and is now eating its own tail. She yells at it to stop. It lifts its head, mouth dripping blood, and spits out a human hand wearing an engagement ring. She looks down and finds her hand missing with a bloody stump in its place. She lifts her head to stare at the lion and finds herself in the cage with lions walking by, staring at her.”

  Malcolm’s eyebrows rose. “That was…brutal.”

  “Yeah. With the dream, she was going to break up with her boyfriend the next day. She would have later married another man who abused her and…oh god.”

  “What?”

  “He would beat her to death while she’s pregnant with their child.”

  Malcolm shook his head, trying to clear the horrific vision from his mind, but then an even more horrible truth seeped through. He knew this story. He’d been the one to steal her dream and she died anyway, still murdered. He couldn’t recall what her changed future had been. “What was her future supposed to be?”

  He didn’t want to hear this, but if he didn’t bear witness, then who would?

  “She stays with the boyfriend. Doesn’t say what his name was. She convinces him to purchase stock in a company called the Mayer Company. Eventually, the two marry and purchase fifty-one percent of the shares. This company, at Tara’s direction, negotiates a hostile takeover of another corporation, Schneider Incorporated, which loses billions. It’s later discovered that Schneider Incorporated has ties to major crime families.”

  Malcolm leaned against the counter, letting his mind churn through what he could remember of the other cases, desperately seeking a connection. “If she’d lived, she wouldn’t die, and by her actions, lose criminals billions of dollars.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Preliminary reports have labeled it an accidental death by drowning, but she’s still at the medical examiners. The estimated time of death was two days ago, but her body was discovered
today.”

  Nothing connected or made any sense, but something tugged at the corner of his now murky memory. “When was the Cos file?”

  Several long moments passed. “Three months ago, by you.”

  Malcolm felt something cold drop into his stomach. Before he could reply, Obadiah said, “Listen, I’ve been thinking since our meeting. We can’t be hands-off with this. Not anymore.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ve gotten in touch with Halek. He’s going to contact Omar. His guys are going to set you up as an investigator, say FBI. They should get you through a lot of the red tape.”

  “Hold on a sec! You want me to go to Florida and impersonate a federal agent? Can Omar do that from Chicago? I know our lawyer’s amazing, but his reach isn’t that far.”

  “Omar’s got his fingers in more cookie jars than the cookie monster!”

  Malcolm didn’t quite get the reference. “Still, a federal agent. His paperwork would have to be god-like for me not to get caught. Are you sure there isn’t another way?”

  “The place is tiny. There’s no way those local guys are going to give jurisdiction to an outside cop. It’d have to come from higher up. Also, it’s not just you.”

  “Who else?”

  “We thought Debbie could help too. She’s got a keen mind. She’d give you an outside perspective and you can keep her close.”

  “Are you kidding? She has a life, friends. I can’t risk her going to jail.”

  “Look, my brother, she’s a smart woman. We’d set her up with a fake identity, change her fingerprints in the law enforcement databases, the works, same as we’ll do with you. At least ask her. No one will feel bad if she says no.”

  “But what if she gets caught? Whether she goes to jail with her own identity or a false one, she’d still be in jail. It’s not like if I’d go to jail I could force a regeneration.”

  “How do you figure that? You’re human now too, or human-esque. We don’t even know if you die now you would regenerate. You might not have the hope of a target letting you disappear. Nor the risk of that happening, which would let the true federal governments in on us. We’ve never been in this position before, but we have the best lawyers in the world. I’m sure any sentence wouldn’t stick.”

  “I’d bet my life on that, but not hers.”

  “Not hers what?” Debbie asked from the doorway. In his passionate discussion, he hadn’t heard the door creak open.

  Malcolm ran a hand through his hair, wishing for this nightmare to be over. “There’s been another murder, and Obadiah wants us to pose as FBI agents to investigate, to get closer to this.”

  Debbie’s eyebrows rose. She rubbed at the goosebumps on her bare arms, shivering in loose t-shirt and panties. Her long bare legs didn’t stir him as worry swarmed through him. What had he gotten her into?

  Her mouth turned up on one side. “Don’t start thinking that. I’m here by choice. Besides, in for a penny, in for a pound. When do we leave?”

  Obadiah answered through the phone. Damn immortal super hearing! “I have you all on a flight out this morning around ten. That should let you have plenty of time to get a few more hours rest, eat, and be at the airport by eight-thirty or nine.”

  Malcolm relayed the message, feeling like a fly caught in an unseen spider’s web. Debbie crossed the space of the bathroom, hopping onto the counter, shivering as the cold counter chilled her bare legs. Conceding the losing battle but not the war, Malcolm switched the phone to speaker and put it between them as Debbie continued speaking. “Why federal agents? That seems suspicious. Why would they be involved in an accidental death?”

  “I agree,” Malcolm said. “I’d bet anything we’ll get caught.”

  “I’m open for suggestions,” Obadiah said.

  Debbie scratched at her tousled hair. “What about being a private investigator? Life insurance or something.”

  “Huh,” Obadiah said. “Excellent idea. Debbie, you’re a genius. Let me get in touch with Halek and Omar. I’ll set everything up. Get some rest.”

  The phone went dead in his hands. Debbie hopped from the counter with a wide yawn. “I need sleep.”

  Malcolm followed her back to the bed, wanting, no, needing to chase away all the badness of the world. One way to start was by holding her close to him. He slid in bed beside her, pulled the covers over them while she wiggled closer. She shivered as his lips touched the back of her neck. His arousal pressed against her backside.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Debbie ran her hand up and down his forearm, interlacing her fingers with his.

  He propped himself up on an elbow. “Marry me?”

  8

  Fatigue settled along every bone in Malcolm’s body. Jet lag collected and congealed in his veins as traveling from North Carolina to Rome and back to Florida in a matter of days caught up with him. Despite dozing through most of the excruciatingly long flight, sluggishness gripped his every movement. Only after a particularly rough target had he felt this level of tiredness.

  The process of disembarking from the plane through the Fort Myer’s airport further drained Malcolm’s ever-diminishing energy level. The airport drudged up vague memories that may have been recollections, but Malcolm had been in so many airports that the images became interchangeable.

  Debbie, despite all the craziness, had stared at every small piece of Rome in wonder with a brilliant smile full of childish delight, and the Florida coast made her squeal like a small child at the circus. His wealth would allow them to live a very comfortable existence for many human lifetimes. Perhaps she’d like to spend their lives seeing the world instead of running a bookstore. He’d seen all he cared to see, but Debbie hadn’t, and that was something he could give her. Once everything settled down. Malcolm knew one thing from his long life: nothing lasted forever.

  Malcolm pulled into the local Hilton in Fort Myer, Florida, a larger town near Sanibel where the target had lived. The town offered more food choices, and most importantly, a bigger population, making it less likely for them to stand out. Debbie clasped his hand as they entered the lobby of the hotel and passed two huge plants perched on the edges of the doorway. Rainbow-like patterns scattered across the travertine tiles from a glittering glass chandelier. The dark wood counter shone as if it’d been freshly polished. A young woman with long blond hair swept back into a sleek ponytail smiled as they approached the counter. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

  “I’m checking in. Reservations under Anderson, Malcolm Anderson.”

  The blonde nodded, staring down at the computer hidden behind the desk. “Of course. I have you right here. Checking out in a week?” She batted her teal-blue eyes that had to be due to colored contacts.

  “Yes.”

  He only half-listened to her speech about the Wi-Fi, continental breakfast hours, parking passes, and restaurant suggestions. He grabbed the keycard and various papers and turned away before the blonde stopped him. “I almost forgot. We have a package here for you. Just one second.”

  She disappeared through a door to the left and handed him a large manila envelope. “Thank you.” Malcolm took the envelope and returned to their rental SUV to unload their bags. After parking, he and Debbie went in search of their room on the fourth floor.

  Their room couldn’t compare with the luxury of Rome, but the double queen-sized beds with white comforters and a light green love seat with decorative pillows would do.

  “It’s not bad. At least it’s clean,” Debbie said.

  Malcolm laughed.

  “I stayed in the worst hotel one time in Jersey. That pigsty looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since 1874. Pretty sure the bugs liked it though.” Debbie shuddered at the random memory. “I found two in my luggage and dumped the whole thing out. Thank God I didn’t get bed bugs!”

  Malcolm cringed at the thought of staying somewhere like that again. He’d slept in some very questionable circumstances during his existence. “Sounds like some
places I had to stay. This one time,” he paused, removing his jacket, “I think it was in the 1200s. Anyway, I’d stolen this dream from an old woman. Can’t remember now what it was about, but she’d been napping, and her companions were wide awake when I popped into their campsite. I had to fight them off before I could get to the dream. How she didn’t wake I couldn’t tell you. Afterward, I took off and found the closest inn. I had no money on me and had to sleep with their pigs. One of them decided to make me its personal outhouse!” He laughed, but somewhere in his memory, he could still remember the horrific odor. “I could've picked somewhere nicer, but we’re supposed to be private investigators. Figured we’d be on a budget.”

  Debbie’s floral skirt flared as she tossed her crotchet purse on the couch. “Listen here, Mister Moneybags. I’m not used to having money. In fact, this is exactly what I could afford on my yearly vacation. I’m not complaining, but it’s weird sometimes. You know?”

  Placing their suitcase on the bed, he unzipped it, separating the things that needed washing, and placed the clean garments in the closet and dresser. “What’s weird?”

  “Knowing how old you are. How much you’ve seen and done. How many different ways of life you’ve had, not to mention how wealthy you are. It makes me feel small.”

  He reached over, running a finger down her cheek. “Don’t. Trust me, life is much cleaner now. Despite your bug-infested hotel in Jersey. Shall we stay there on our honeymoon?”

  Debbie laughed and swatted him with her hairbrush she’d grabbed from the suitcase. She gathered up their toiletries for the bathroom and a minute later came out, slinging her clothes on the dirty pile, wearing nothing but a long necklace of red and orange beads. A wicked smile curved on her lips when he stopped midway through putting their socks in the drawer. “Figured I could use a shower. Wash off the travel stench away.” She flashed her eyebrows in challenge. “Want to join?”

  After a very long, very dirty shower, he plopped onto the couch, hair dripping onto the robe, and ripped into the envelope. Halek had come through. Two legit ID badges for Malcolm Anderson and Debbie Jones.