The Dream Awakened

by Leann M Rettell

  She relocked her case, securing it back in the hidden compartment, thankful, yet again, the Catholic Church hadn’t discovered it. She cursed herself for not including a cell phone in her regeneration spot, but at least she was close to the Cos. Would any of the others have been punished since their regeneration spots were thousands of miles away? Not that the Librarian often had a regeneration. The one two years ago had been a fluke, but then again, when had a dream thief ever been forced into a regeneration? The anger and rejection of the voices still stuck with her. She should feel bad, should feel reprimanded, but she didn’t. Red hot anger flared in her. How dare they do this to her? Hadn’t she done her duty? And they yanked her away from Felix.

  Felix! What would he think of her now? He knew her history, yet this new knowing was altogether different.

  A trickle of blood dripped from her nose as pain lanced over her head and neck. Her poor body, robbed of its humanness, hadn’t recuperated with the super healing. Her super speed was probably gone too. The gardens weren’t open to the public, and she’d hate to be stopped by the Swiss Guard, the Vatican’s police, especially with no ID and in her present state.

  She released a breath and jumped into hyper-speed. She made it as far as St. Peter’s square before she stumbled out of fast speed, rolling, and hitting the ground. Several patrons rushed her, hovering and concerned. “I’m fine.” She pushed herself to her knees and waved with a bloody hand. At least she had partial speed.

  She shuffled toward a parked cab, favoring her right leg, while she heard the mutterings coming from the crowd. Words like “drunkard,” “homeless,” and “disgrace” followed her like a black cloud. Inside the cab, she told him the address to Cos without making eye contact.

  From the front seat, the cabbie said in a gruff voice, “You can pay?”

  Aelia reached into the overlarge coat and yanked a handful of bills, flashing them at the brown eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. The man dipped his head and put the car in drive. She closed her eyes and might have dosed because the next time she opened her eyes, they were parked outside of the Fontana del Tritone. Leaving the cab, she thrust all the bills in her pocket, which was way more than was due.

  She entered the building with a slight limp. Teobaldo’s large frame sprawled from behind the desk. He eased from his seat with a grimace because standing caused him pain. “Excuse me. This is private property. Can I help you with something?”

  “It’s me. Mrs. Dejournett.”

  Teobaldo paled as he took in her disheveled form. “My apologies. Are you injured? Shall I call an ambulance for you?”

  “No.” She snapped, pulling her back straight and heading for the elevators.

  “Were you mugged?”

  “No. Yes. I’m fine. And if anyone asks, you never saw me like this. Understand?” She jabbed the elevator call button, glowering at the man, the threat hanging on every motion.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Distrust showed from his gaze, but the man had no backbone to do anything other than wonder.

  “I do not wish to be disturbed unless my husband calls. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The elevator chimed as the metallic doors swung open. “Good. Back to your desk.”

  Not waiting for his reply, she pushed the call button for the penthouse. Once the doors closed, the elevator moved up. The fatigue that had settled on her since the forced regeneration returned now that she was alone. All she wanted was to talk to Felix, take a shower, and get some rest. Little did she know her punishment had only begun.

  36

  Aelia burst through the door of her penthouse apartment. She’d maintained this space after marrying Felix. She loved living with him and the girls in his luxurious home in the heart of Rome, but she needed this space. After centuries of being on her own, she couldn’t entirely give it up.

  Felix had come from a powerful Italian family that had money for generations, but despite all that, he’d made his own fortune as a software engineer. He avoided his family at every occasion, and if he spoke of them, it wasn’t in a favorable light. In the two years that she’d known him, she’d never met them. He only had good things to say about his mother, and she died five years earlier.

  Aelia picked up the landline and dialed his cell. “Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” What must he and the girls have thought? They must be panicking. They hadn’t told the girls anything about her history. The phone rang and rang and rang. It went to voice mail. “Damn it!” She shoved the tears from her eyes and tried again. Nothing. She slammed the phone back onto the base and limped into the bathroom.

  She jerked the water on to warm as the ancient system woke up, hating the thinness of her wrist as she caught a glance at it. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She knew her woman-ness was sealed up again. She wouldn’t bother trying to eat anything. She’d no longer be able to eat all the wonderful food. Pasta. Pizza. Tiramisu. All that glorious food had been taken away.

  She choked down yet another sob and hobbled to the kitchen. She left bottles of simple syrup in the fridge out of habit. She drank a bottle, hating the sickeningly sweet taste and thickness as it rolled down her throat, but the calories sailed through her veins, easing away the jitters she’d been ignoring. Back in the bathroom, she stripped and took a fast shower, letting the tears roll down her cheeks as she washed away the dirt and grime from her non-human body. She dried off and slipped on a t-shirt and sweatpants. She tried Felix again. Still nothing.

  A bad feeling rose in the pit of her stomach that soared when a knock sounded at her door. She limped to the living room, trying to fan her face to hide the recent crying. Two policemen stood on her doorstep. Teobaldo raised a hand behind the officers. “I’m sorry. I tried to buzz you, but they insisted.”

  “It’s okay.” She dipped her head. “You can go back downstairs.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Teobaldo shuffled back to the elevator. As the door shut, the two officers took off their hats. One was young, tall, dark-skinned, and his muscles had muscles. The older one couldn’t have been more than five foot and three inches and had pasty skin and a huge belly protruding over his belt.

  The older one rolled a hat in between his hands. “Mrs. Dejournett?”

  “Yes.” Something deep inside her chest cracked that had nothing to do with the singularity.

  “May we come in?”

  She stared at the floor as she nodded and stepped aside. Her lips and fingertips went numb as she waited for the inevitable words.

  “Mrs. Dejournett,” the elder officer said.

  She swallowed, bracing herself.

  “We regret to inform you that there has been an accident. Your husband and step-daughters…”

  The world descended into silence as blood rushed to her ears. Gone. They couldn’t be gone. Lost control. Crashed into a tree. Killed instantly. Yesterday.

  Yesterday? An entire day gone. It had already been an entire day, and it’d been her fault. He’d lost control at the instant of her regeneration. Tears slid from her eyes, casting the officers into an eerie semi-transparency.

  “Mrs. Dejournett, it was noted at the scene that your clothes were in the vehicle. May we ask why?”

  She took an offered tissue and wiped her nose and eyes. “Yes, we were all supposed to go to a concert. I wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed home. Stomach bug. I’ve been too weak to get up.”

  The younger officer dipped his head. “We understand. We couldn’t reach you when we came by last night. We had to contact your husband’s brother. He identified the bod—your family. We’re sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?”

  Aelia shook her head. “No, thank you for your kindness.”

  She showed them to the door. Numb, she walked to the kitchen, grabbed a knife from the drawer, and sliced deep through both of the tendons on her wrist. Ignoring the pain and the trickling warm blood off her fingers, she returned to the bathroom, stepped inside, and collapsed to the
floor. The skin of her wrists warmed, and she looked up. She saw the flesh knit back together and her arms fill out.

  “No!” She scratched at the dried blood, revealing healed skin. She pushed the blade through her wrists again. They healed. She did it again and again and again. “No! No! No! No!”

  37

  In a fog, Aelia drifted through the next few days. The funeral arrangements were prepared without her being able to recall a single detail. Felix’s brother, Vincenzo Moretti, took control at the very large funeral. Hundreds upon hundreds of people attended, a vast majority of whom she’d never met. Jadon and Emma’s grandmother fainted. Through it all, Aelia remained numb. This catastrophe was her fault. If only she’d never met him in that coffee shop, or if she’d said no when he’d asked her to dinner. A hundred thousand little decisions had led to this moment.

  Where were the creators when she needed them? Why were Felix, Jadon, and Emma worth so little? Were they not worthy enough for a dream thief to prevent their deaths? Did they matter so little in the scheme of the overall good that they wouldn’t be missed? Days ago, her heart had been filled with love and hope; now it beat with hate, regret, and an unbearable despair.

  Aelia’s memories sputtered, like a car running out of gas. Malcolm struggled to hold on. Only flashes came, showing only the growing depression she developed in the weeks and months after her family’s deaths. Aelia longed for release. Again and again, Aelia sliced the knife across her wrist. Each time the damn skin healed over in a matter of seconds. In a moment of desperation, she dragged it across her throat, but that too healed. She had an appointment with a doctor and obtained a prescription of pills. After taking the whole bottle, she vomited for more than an hour. That dose would’ve killed a human, but not her. Oh, not her. Some images flashed like lightning bolts, sending pain firing along every nerve in Malcolm’s body. He tried to focus on these, tried to figure out why these were so different, but couldn’t hold on to them.

  In desperation, Aelia climbed to the top of the Cos building just after midnight and let herself fall. The impact sent a jolt of pain through her, but again she healed. She limped away, ignoring all the stares from the few people out, and flung herself from the Torre Eurosky, a residential skyscraper towering at over five hundred feet. At impact, her body disintegrated, and she regenerated, still inhuman, back at the Vatican.

  When this didn’t work, she stepped in front of a train near the Ponte dell’Industria bridge. Again, she regenerated. She resorted to a vulgar pistol, but that hadn’t worked either. She couldn’t end her miserable existence. Months passed in a blur. She refrained from any of the simple syrup and barely left the bed. She took to sharpening Felix’s knife, letting the sweet sting pass through her thighs and forearms. Only that eased any of the pain inside her. She must’ve gone too long without any substances because at times, she’d find herself laying healed, all traces of starvation gone, in Vatican City, regenerated from starvation. Instinct alone had her running when the Vatican police caught sight of her.

  More than a year passed in this manner. Little penetrated her conscious thought. She cared about nothing. No one, in all that time, called her phone. The dream thieves logged their targets remotely, never needing to check in. The bills were paid automatically. For all the world cared, she’d died too.

  Somewhere, beyond the heaviness of the fog, a knock sounded on her apartment door. She moved, zombie-like, and opened it. Her heart skipped a beat. For an instant, she thought her beloved Felix had returned to her, but the subtle differences took precedence: the slightly wider nose, rounder eyes, and not an ounce of the warmth of her husband. Her hope crashed, sending a wave of overwhelming fatigue. She almost sunk to her knees. Felix’s brother, Vincenzo Moretti tipped his head. “Forgive my intrusion, madam, your doorman let me up. He says he hasn’t seen you in months. Why he hasn’t sent someone to check on you is beyond me. You should fire him right away.”

  Aelia cared nothing of what he said or if anyone cared enough for her. “What do you want?” Her voice had lost the musical chime from before and came out in a gritted and rusty manner, giving evidence to the months of disuse.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you. It seems my brother left you all of his estate.” A harsh expression flashed across his face at the words before smoothing into a calm mask. “Legally there is nothing I can do to dispute it.” She had little doubt he’d looked into it. “You’ll need to sign some papers so his estate can be settled.”

  “Keep it. I don’t want it.” She stepped back to shut the door, but Vincenzo’s arm shot out, fast, blocking the way.

  “Listen here, girl.” He shoved his way into her apartment. All pretense of calm indifference gone at her rejection. His cold black eyes swept the room, curling his lip at the untidy mess he beheld. “I find you nothing more than a whore who took advantage of my brother, using him to build some state-of-the-art database, using his millions to fund it.”

  The accusation couldn’t have been further from the truth. The Cos and the dream thieves had double, if not triple, Felix’s considerable wealth. He hadn’t put a dime of his own money into the project.

  Vincenzo jabbed a finger toward her. “I know you had something to do with his death. He was a superb driver. He used to race in all manner of weather. There’s no way he would’ve lost control of the car.” He slammed the door closed behind him, striding over to tower over her. “I know your stuff was in the car, and the police couldn’t get in touch with you for a whole day. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together. You were driving the car. Weren’t you?”

  She shook her head, closed her eyes, and let the tears fall as the last image of her beloved Felix, eyes wide in terror as she vanished from the passenger seat, entered her mind.

  “Stop being a lying bitch. I can see you’ve fallen into squalor, and you’re going to pretend you don’t want his millions? Why? Are you trying to lure me into your ruse as well?” He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. The pain didn’t register. “Now just sign the damn iron-clad papers, take your blood money, and watch your back. You will pay for what you did to him.”

  Flinging her wrist to the side, Vincenzo slammed a manila envelope into her chest. She hadn’t noticed it before. She staggered away, pulling out the papers.

  “Here!” He slammed a pen down on a side table.

  Moving like a puppet, Aelia signed all the flagged areas. She was baffled at his hatred, but her depression never allowed her to feel the least bit of fear. She’d been trying to end her life over and over again. Perhaps he’d succeed where she’d failed.

  After she signed the last page, she slipped everything back in the envelope and handed it back to him. He crossed his arms over his chest, leering at her, as if choosing the most hurtful words he could think of. “Did you have to kill his little girls, too?”

  The words shattered through the ice surrounding her heart like a jackhammer. She sobbed, clutching at her chest. She ached for her babies. He moved toward her, fist raised, when the air shifted, vibrating and humming. Vincenzo paused, staring as Caelieus appeared, his eyes wide and roaming in confusion. Blood poured down his nose before he collapsed.

  Vincenzo stepped back. “What black magic is this?”

  Aelia blinked at her ailing brother. Seeing him plunged her back into the world. Vincenzo couldn’t see this. “I can explain.”

  “Witch! You evil witch. You’ve damned my brother, and you’ll pay.” With that he turned and dashed out of the door, slamming it behind him.

  Witch? Memories of being burned alive by a prior husband roared to life. Like hell she’d be called a witch again. Turning her gaze back to Caelieus, she waited for the shift in power, the shift to let her time as Librarian end so she could go after Vincenzo. She had paid for Felix, but she wouldn’t let him hurt the dream thieves. They were all she had left.

  She waited and waited and waited, but the shift never came, and the fierce storm of hatred ripped through the fog of her depression.

&n
bsp; She still couldn’t be free. Vincenzo hadn’t gotten the details right, but it had been her fault Felix and the girls died. She stared down at the moaning Caelieus, not the least amount of empathy seeping through. It hadn’t been her fault. No, it’d been the creators.

  Aelia lifted her head high. No longer would she follow their rules. She’d been betrayed by the creators too much. If Felix and Jadon and Emma weren’t worth saving, then no one was. Caelieus screamed while her plans took shape. She'd start with calling all the dream thieves to her. A vicious smile spread over her lips.

  38

  Malcolm ripped away from Aelia’s mind. He slammed back into his own body, his own mind, as the bedroom in Cos swam in and out of view. He leaned forward, disoriented as blood trickled down his nose, and tried to get his bearings. He’d experienced more than a year of Aelia’s life firsthand, as if they’d been one person. He’d connected to Tara Booth at what he’d believed had been the most intimate levels, but that couldn’t compare to what he’d experienced inside Aelia’s memories.

  Her mind, as vast and complex as his, one that had seen millennia and absorbed future after countless future, compared to his own in a way Tara’s couldn’t. Aelia had had years of being in the same semi-human state in which he now resided. The memories of her fully female as she and Felix made love and cherished each other, both contrasted and mingled with his own experiences as a male. He’d felt her pleasure as Felix entered her which mingled with how he felt when he made love with Debbie. As if he could feel both the male and female aspects of love making at the same time. The odd duality still left him reeling.