The Dream Awakened

by Leann M Rettell

  “You’ve been keeping her sedated?”

  Obadiah nodded, face grave and beyond exhausted.

  “Where’s Debbie?”

  “Here.” Debbie emerged from one of several newer rooms Malcolm hadn’t bothered to explore the last few times he’d been here. She balanced three steaming cups and took slow, careful steps toward them. The mouthwatering aroma of fresh, good-quality espresso wafted toward him as he met her halfway across the room. He took two cups from her and handed one to Obadiah who just held the cup, staring at nothing like a lost pup.

  “How are you holding up?” Malcolm took a sip of the hot drink, black and rich, sending jolts of energy into him that were desperately needed and welcomed despite all the sleep he’d gotten on the plane.

  Obadiah shook his head. “Being Librarian is supposed to be boring. Instead, I had three missing dream thieves, two of which might be traitors, and now one of them seems like she is dying. Another has turned kind of human, and someone is killing off targets. I’ve been better, my brother.”

  Debbie took a seat next to Obadiah. She rubbed his shoulder. “This is no time to lose faith.”

  Obadiah’s blue eyes shimmered, and he straightened, as if her words had some regenerating effect. “You’re right. This is all for a reason. Thank you, sweet lady, for reminding me.”

  “After this conference call, you need to get some sleep. We’re here now, we’ll watch over her.” Debbie leaned back in the chair, sipping on her own coffee.

  “Thank you.” Obadiah stood and made his way from the rows of computers to the front where the main hub of this new dream thief command center stood. Obadiah pressed a button on the small machine. A second later, the sound of a ringing phone filled the air. Makir answered, “Obadiah?”

  “Yes. Gabriel and Debbie have arrived. I’m going to get the others on the phone.”

  Malcolm waited while Obadiah got almost all of the dream thieves on the conference call.

  “Okay, anyone have any news about Lother?”

  The line remained silent for a few seconds.

  “Halek here.” Keys clicked in the background. “I looked back over the traffic camera footage in New York. I tracked him from leaving Makir’s apartment after she’d left for work. He ended up at JFK airport. After that, I’ve lost him.”

  “Any of his known aliases fly out anywhere?” Obadiah asked.

  “I checked. Nothing. Unless he’s still there, which I doubt, he must have jumped into super speed and snuck past security. Probably stowed away on some plane in the cargo. It’s what I have done.”

  “Okay. For now, keep the search open for any hits on his aliases in hotels or credit cards.” Obadiah met Malcolm’s gaze and shook his head. Dead end.

  “He did empty one of his bank accounts, some forty thousand dollars, and he doesn’t need to eat and can go without staying in a hotel. I doubt he’ll be that stupid. If he doesn’t want found, we’re going to be lucky to find him,” Obadiah said.

  “Heris and Tiaret, any word on Caelieus?”

  “Yes and no.” Malcolm recognized Tiaret’s sultry voice. “We’ve traced the last known alias Gabriel gave us. We tracked him from Easter Island to Berlin. Next, he popped up in Chile. We’re guessing he had a target. From there, he boarded a fishing vessel called the Cameron. According to the port authority, it will be out to sea for months.”

  Obadiah rubbed his eyes, showing the fatigue and frustration Malcolm felt.

  “We’re hoping he won’t transport because then we won’t have a clue where he’s gone,” Heris said.

  Obadiah jotted the information down in a very full notebook by the main desk. “Keep tracing any of his aliases. If he transports, we’ll also have to check what the Cameron documents about him. I’m going to turn the floor over to Gabriel, he’ll tell you about what’s been going on in Florida.”

  As succinctly as possible, Malcolm told them of the missing and terminated targets, all that had gone down while in Florida, and finished with letting them know Makir would take over with Nimue and Halek coming to assist.

  “Why have you left Florida?” Lysander asked in his deep voice. Malcolm imagined his friend rubbing his dark-skinned chin as he always did while trying to put together a puzzle or form a new piece of art out of wood.

  “I wondered that too,” Zari asked.

  Obadiah met his gaze, holding the weight of what he’d have to tell those who didn’t know. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Right now I want to know how things are faring in New Orleans?”

  “Fine,” Zari and Lysander said together.

  Lysander said, “Compared to the rest of you, everything is pretty boring here.”

  Halek laughed. “Don’t get used to it. I’m in the process of setting up a program that will run a continuous search with all new targets under any major police or Interpol databases. If any are reported missing or killed, I want us to know about it. It’s in the early stages, but hopefully we can act quicker.”

  Obadiah’s next words held the musical commanding quality of the Librarian. “Since only Lysander and Zari are free at the moment, you two will be assigned if another target goes missing.”

  “Yes, Librarian,” Lysander and Zari said together.

  “Good, now let me tell you all about Aelia and why Malcolm is here.”

  The story was worse when spoken with the frank, cold bluntness in which Obadiah conveyed it. Malcolm couldn’t blame him. These were dark, dangerous times for them all. This wasn’t the time for sugarcoating.

  Lysander, always the most rational and calculating, said, “I’m going to be the asshole here and suggest you put Aelia in chains. At least until we figure out if she betrayed us.”

  “What happens if Aelia gets a target?” Heris asked. “No chain would hold her then. Don’t forget, she’s in a terrible state. We can’t hold her as a prisoner until we hear her side of the story. Besides, she’s with the Librarian. He can command her as long as she’s there. She won’t run.”

  “I agree.” Obadiah tapped the pen on the notebook, lips set in a thin line at the conversation. “Until everything settles back to normal, we should have these conference calls at least weekly. Agreed?”

  A series of “agreed” and “yes” flowed through the intercom. “Heris and Tiaret, I want you all to return to Berlin to see if you can dig up any information on what Caelieus was up to there, and then head back to Chile before he returns.

  “Yes, sir,” Tiaret said for both of them.

  “Halek, keep working your magic. Nimue, continue your research on the anomalies you’ve discovered in dream thieves and start cross-referencing the rest of us. See if there are other idiosyncrasies between us. I trust you have all sent in your own samples to her. Any changes in anyone, and I want everyone to send Nimue samples at once. Everyone know what you have to do?”

  After everyone confirmed, Obadiah’s shoulders slumped as if the commands of the Librarian stole what remained of his energy.

  “Right, it’s time to get back to work.”

  As if on cue, Aelia resumed screaming.

  33

  Aelia’s screams rose and fell like some horrible tide. Malcolm didn’t know why icy dread filled him the closer he got to the door. Debbie squeezed his hand, startling him. “Would you mind if I go and check us into a hotel?”

  He knew she really didn’t need to get them a room but was giving him the time to do this alone. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I have my phone if you need me.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” She kissed him and stepped away.

  Obadiah held up a hand. “I’ll help carry your bags.” Debbie dipped her head in thanks and disappeared around a corner, heading back toward the elevator. “I think I’m going to get myself a room too. I haven’t had a chance to redo Aelia’s rooms in the penthouse for myself and have been sleeping down here.”

  Malcolm recognized the angst in Obadiah’s face at the thought of leaving him alone
in Cos. “I’ll be fine. You need rest. If I need you, I’ll call.”

  The two men leaned toward each other and hugged in a full embrace. Malcolm realized they’d come across as unmacho in this modern age but shrugged it off. He had enough to worry about.

  The singularity inside him rippled with need as soon as Aelia had returned to consciousness. The odd half-connection they’d made while he’d been in Florida had never fully severed. He had no idea what it meant, but each moment of delay made the sensation grow more unpleasant.

  As the unmistakable sounds of the elevator door shutting filtered through the empty caverns, Malcolm placed his hand on the cold doorknob to Aelia’s room and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take several calming breaths to steel his nerves before entering.

  He turned the handle, and the door swung open. He flipped on the light switch, illuminating the pitiful Aelia, showcasing all of the heartbreaking details of her current state. Dried blood caked from her nostrils to around her mouth and over her chin. A fresh puddle teetered on the edge of her nostrils ready to start a new stream. Sharp cheekbones made the hollowed-out, darkened eye socket all the more prominent. Her clavicles stood out in stark contrast to her neck. The once lustrous blond hair lay dank and string-like, plastered against her sweat-drenched head. Her screams of pain ceased, and she curled in on herself, clutching at her stomach, making the missing digits all the more noticeable.

  A sob broke from Malcolm’s mouth. His beautiful, vibrant friend had made mistakes, had ordered at least two of their targets eliminated, but did she deserve this? He knew the families of those targets would think so, that and more. But while the deeds would always be horrific, she’d only tried to prevent the loss of so many more lives.

  He wiped away the tears that leaked from his eyes and crossed the distance between them. He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed so as to not disturb her.

  “Gabriel,” she whispered his name in a rough voice, full of pain and weakness.

  He placed his hand over hers, being careful to avoid touching the still unhealed, raw stumps where her fingers had been. “I’m here.”

  With what seemed like great effort, Aelia opened her one remaining eye, squinting at the onslaught of the fluorescent light. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “I know,” he whispered soothingly. There were many things she could have been referring to, but Malcolm didn’t need to hear it. At least not when she appeared to be clinging to life. Perhaps a regeneration would be the best thing for her. Her spot was in this city in the heart of the Vatican.

  She shook her head, a flash of her former self-assuredness appearing. “There’s so much to tell you, and I’m so tired.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  She choked on a sob. “I do. I do. You have to understand. I was hurt. I was angry. I lost faith in us, in the dream thieves.” She wouldn’t be dissuaded.

  “Okay, I’ll listen. I got you something.” He handed her a costume eye patch from his pocket he’d bought in one of the many airports they’d stopped in since leaving Florida. He sat back on the bed and slipped it over Aelia’s face. This allowed her to hide the atrocity. Some of the pain slipped away from her expression. He covered up her hands and counted two missing fingers on the right hand and three on the left. He tucked them under the blanket and hoped hiding these gruesome reminders would ease some of Aelia’s anxiety.

  “You’re too kind, especially after what I did.”

  “I know you ordered the elimination of targets Wu Sun and Tobias Miller. Were there others?”

  Aelia sniffled, and Malcolm used the baby wipes on a side table to wipe the blood from her nose and to clean her face.

  “No. Oh God, I don’t know where to start.” She trembled all over and moaned again in pain. “I wish I could forget. Forget all of it.”

  “Who did this to you?”

  Aelia squeezed her one eye shut. “Felix’s brother.”

  Felix? Malcolm had no idea who Felix was, never mind his brother. “Who’s Felix?”

  “He was my husband.”

  “What?” Aelia had married, and as Librarian. When? Why hadn’t she told anyone? “Where is Felix now?”

  Aelia sobbed and her body shook in great gasping waves of grief. “He’s…” she clutched the sheet covering her close to her chest, “he’s dead and the girls, our girls, oh god.” An anguished cry tore through her. “It’s…all…my…fault.” Each word took great effort.

  “Oh Aelia, I’m so sorry.”

  “Felix’s brother wanted revenge. He knew his brother and nieces’ deaths were my fault. He’s the head of some international criminal family, but then he found out what I am. At first, he wanted to ruin me. He wouldn’t quit asking questions. What are we? Where do we come from? What do we do? He did this to me.” She yanked her hands out from underneath the covers showing him the missing fingers and used her forearm to push the eyepatch from her face. “He and the evil men he left me with. I refused to login, refused to tell them anything, but they tortured me. I cracked. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.” Anger and fear lined her face. “They’d cut off pieces of me over and over, fingers, toes, my hands, my feet. They’d grow back, and they’d cut them off again. I told them everything, all about us, and the database, my passwords, everything. They used my body parts to help them login. At first, they sent out their hitmen to kill our targets as part of his revenge against me, but the more he searched our database, he realized we’d done cases that messed with his business. I think they started looking into only cases that affected them. I managed, when one of the guards fell asleep, to get an encrypted email to Obadiah. I hoped you all could stop him.”

  Nausea rose in Malcolm at her words. He couldn’t imagine the endless hours of pain and suffering she must’ve endured at the hands of these monsters.

  “How did you get away?”

  “A target. Finally after weeks and weeks. After I collected it, the singularity pulsed again and transported me here.” The last of whatever energy remained to her slipped away, and she sank back into the bed, letting the eye patch slide back into place.

  Her story sounded true, but he couldn’t believe her on her words alone. He had little doubt the others wouldn’t trust her. At this line of reasoning, the singularity gave a little tug. Aelia’s eye narrowed on him as if she’d sensed it too. “How?”

  He knew she meant how they’d connected while he’d been in Florida. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you really come here before? Did I see you?”

  “Yes.”

  She patted at her chest. “I still feel you.”

  Malcolm nodded. The singularity pulled taut, bringing with it an air of excitement and expectation, not un-similar to the satisfaction of burying himself inside Debbie. At the same time, Aelia moaned, deep in pleasure. “Yes. Do it. I need you to do it.”

  Malcolm, battling the feelings of arousal and of betrayal to Debbie, succumbed to the singularity and fell into Aelia’s mind, trying to ignore the rise of passion that accompanied it.

  34

  Malcolm fell and fell and fell. A mirage of images and sensations bombarded his senses. Pain ripped through him as unseen bastards tore out his/Aelia’s eye. There was more pain as they cut away their fingers, toes, and the mounds of what would’ve been breasts in a normal woman. And then more pain as punches, kicks, and blows came from every angle. Weeks of almost unending torture, but never enough to end it, never enough to make her regenerate and escape.

  Whatever doubt he had vanished as he experienced her pain firsthand. No one would volunteer for that! Ever! A final barrier to Aelia’s mind relaxed as if his belief in her unlocked the key to this most protected part of her mind.

  He allowed himself to slip away, letting all his thoughts to quiet, until Malcolm settled as a spectator, and Aelia’s memories unfurled toward him. No longer witnessing the world with his own eyes, he yielded completely and beheld the world as Aelia.

  Aelia leaned over her computer desk in the hea
rt of Cos, rubbing her temples, eyes dry and blurry from the endless hours she’d spent manually entering records of dreams long since stolen. The fluorescent light above her head thrummed, the sound grating on her every nerve. The unnatural rays of light flickered, which her immortal brain found hard to ignore. She leaned back, staring ahead, deciding her next project would be to switch those monstrosities out for some new high-tech mimicry of natural light. She jotted herself a note to research it and see if it would harm any of the ancient scrolls.

  Her neck and shoulders ached from hours and hours of the same repetitious task. One day, she kept telling herself, one day, she’d finish entering every record of stolen dreams into their new state-of-the-art, almost unhackable database that Halek helped her create. She knew there had to be a better way of transferring the data than by hand. Some scanner or other new tech thing, but she’d never trust it with the more ancient texts and scrolls, especially for the extinction-level events. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

  Her phone buzzed beside her, pulling her back to reality. The screen read Felix. A smile spread across her face as she pressed the answer button.

  “Hello,” she breathed in Italian.

  “Bella. My beauty. My love. Can you join me for a glass of wine and a picnic?” Felix’s voice flowed through the cell phone like warm chocolate, dark, sweet, and smooth. Her toes curled in response.

  “Absolutely. Meet me outside?”

  “In ten minutes, my sweet.”

  The line went dead as Aelia logged off the computer, marked her spot in the current text she was in the middle of transcribing, and pushed the computer chair back. She jogged to the bathroom, heart hammering, thinking of all the places on Felix she would put her mouth, knees going weak at the memory of his taste. She ran a brush through her short bob cut, blond hair shimmering like gold. She jabbed a brush into blush and swiped it over her cheeks, and then she accentuated her pouty lips with a bit of deep red lipstick. She added a dab of expensive perfume underneath each ear, on the inside part of her wrists, and in between her breasts. She hurried to the bedroom, wasting no time removing the yoga pants and large t-shirt. She slipped on a black blouse, leaving the last few buttons undone to show just a hint of cleavage, pulled on a tight pencil skirt, and donned red high heels. Grabbing a necklace and earrings, she marched to the elevator, heels clacking on the stone floor. She pressed the button for the lobby, knowing the security guard would be notified the elevator was descending from the top floors instead of ascending from underneath. He, nor anyone else in this building, had no idea what was hidden underneath this ancient, if plain, white stucco building in the middle of Rome.