Dreamwalker

by Allyson James

  Mick shouted something. He dove for me at the same time I saw Maya’s truck rise from the ground and go straight for him.

  How I threw off Nash, I never knew, but I was up, hurtling myself at Mick. Mick grabbed for me as my momentum carried him backward, trying to pull me with him, but he’d never get out of the way in time if he did that.

  I pushed again, using all my strength and a burst of Beneath magic. I broke his hold and pushed him to safety just as the truck came down on me. I saw its underside, which had been pristine until the engine had blown a black hole in it. Maya would be upset—she prided herself on her truck.

  Then the pile of metal was landing on top of me. I heard Mick’s voice, holding vast grief, Nash snarling swear words.

  I felt a lightness, and behind that, pain so great I couldn’t comprehend it. Mick’s hold was slipping, his warmth sliding away.

  Nash’s touch was there too, he still growling, but his hand lay on my ankle, the one place that didn’t hurt. Everything else was throbbing.

  I heard Mick’s voice saying my name, the rumble so warm and familiar I clung to it.

  But it couldn’t save me. I was dying, and I knew it. Darkness took place of the bright morning sunshine, the glint of the truck, erasing even the smell of fuel and burning.

  Through the darkness and numbing pain, a sound floated, sweet and low. It was music, the soft but trembling note of a flute, like that of the one my father had carved for himself.

  I was transported back to my childhood, when I’d lain in my bed and listened to my father playing on the flat land under the night sky. I’d thought him playing to the moon, but I knew now he’d been playing for my mother.

  Not anymore, my thoughts whispered. Pete Begay had sat on the patio of my hotel and played in the darkness for Gina, for her warm smile and the love in her eyes. He’d played for her, and now he played for me.

  “Dad,” I croaked. I reached for him. He couldn’t be here—there was danger.

  The flute answered me, rising like the wind, ending in what sounded remarkably like the yip of a coyote.

  “No,” I said. “Don’t stop.”

  I yearned for the music, and relaxed a fraction as the song returned. This time the flute sounded like a bird, fluttering, brightly calling. I was a little girl again, in the rather hard bed in my room at Many Farms, knowing I was safe in the night because my father played outside my window.

  The serenity was broken when my grandmother stumped into the room and poked the end of her walking cane at my blankets. A trickle of magic came from it, manifesting into a spark when it touched me.

  “Janet,” Grandmother said sternly. “Time to wake up now.”

  I groaned. It was too early, surely. Too early to drag myself up for another day of school, with kids who didn’t know much what to make of me, the crazy girl with no mother.

  “Janet,” Grandmother repeated. The cane poked me again.

  “Ow,” I said. The voice that came out of me was adult and slurred. Didn’t matter, though. Grandmother was not above jostling me out of bed now that I was twenty-eight instead of eight. Before she had a cane, she’d simply shake me until I responded.

  “Janet,” this voice was Mick’s, rumbling at me with all his strength. His aura touched me, fire and smoke.

  I twitched my fingers, happy. “You got your dragon back.”

  Or tried to say. My mouth barely worked at all.

  “Let me try.” Gabrielle sounded close by.

  She put a warm hand on my wrist. I tried to jerk away, afraid, but a spark of mind-shaking magic zapped through me. It was answered on my other side by a bite of dragon magic, meeting the Beneath power in a wash of heat.

  I gasped. Something was on my face, and I started to choke.

  The crushing feeling returned to my chest. I gasped again, struggling for breath, and my eyes flew open.

  Before I could cry out, Mick brushed my face, lifting away whatever was on it. “Hey, baby,” he said softly.

  I blinked. I lay in a dimly lit room lined with windows and curtains. A quiet beeping filled my ears, and beyond it, the dying notes of the flute.

  Gabrielle stood on one side of my bed, her dark eyes wide with worry. Mick was on the other side, his hand in mine. His eyes were black, the blue barely there, and his aura showed me the shadow of his dragon.

  I exhaled in relief. “Dream,” I mumbled. “Only a dream.”

  Grandmother’s cane moved Gabrielle aside. Beyond her, I saw my beloved father, holding his flute, Gina standing close to him.

  “Dreams?” my grandmother asked, her dark eyes fixed on me. “What dreams? When you feel better, you need to tell me all about them.”

  ***

  Much later, after nurses kicked everyone out, doctors came to check me. Mick had told me that I’d been here two days, and surgeons had fixed me after the jail in Flat Mesa had all but crushed me. The doctors now told me I’d be fine, but I had to lie there for a while longer.

  When the nurse returned to hang new bags on the hooks above my bed, I asked her to please send Mick to me. The nurse gave me a disapproving look, but I must have appeared pathetic, because she nodded and departed.

  Not ten seconds later, Mick was coming in the door. He’d have been right outside.

  “I hate hospitals,” I said, my tongue clumsy.

  Mick pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down, taking my hand between his. His face was a misery.

  “Cheer up,” I told him. “I’m alive. Where am I?” I felt the press of too many people around me, noises outside the window, not the immense silence of a desert night.

  “Phoenix,” Mick said. “They airlifted you here.”

  “Nash’s jail fell on me.” I remembered the ceiling coming down just as Nash was yelling at me, Maya screaming. “I bet he’s not happy.”

  “He’s not doing well himself.” Mick gave me a grave look, any glint of humor in him gone. “Maya got caught in the collapse too. She’s not as bad off as you were—they took her to the clinic in Flat Mesa. Nash ordered the helicopter for you.” Mick let out a breath. “I thought you were dead when they pulled you out …”

  His eyes filled with moisture and a tear trickled down his cheek. He only held my hand as though he didn’t notice, his fingers biting down.

  “Maya was in my dream,” I said. “So was Drake … Is Drake all right?”

  Mick shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he did after we left him at the hotel. I haven’t been back there.”

  “Call him.” I struggled to sit up, but I only came four inches off the pillow before dizziness sent me back down. “And call Cassandra. Tell her the mirror is in danger …”

  Mick’s firm hand landed on my chest, though I wasn’t going anywhere. “You rest. If there’s a problem with the mirror, Cassandra will tell us. Plus, I have a piece of it with me.”

  I relaxed, though not much. “Are you all right? In my dream, Emmett had a spell that split you in two—human and dragon, just like Drake claimed god magic could do. The dragon was pure animal, and just … flew away. You were left behind, but you weren’t dragon anymore.”

  Mick’s look changed not to concern but interest. The tear remained on his cheek, but his eyes filled with the curiosity of his dragon. “A condensing and separating of essences. Hmm. I’ve never seen it done.”

  “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to. And I’m not going to let Emmett split you in half for real—ever.”

  “It’s not so much splitting in half,” Mick said. “A person can have many essences, more than two. You, for instance, have Beneath magic, storm magic, and then a part that’s you—daughter of your father.”

  I gripped his hand. “I know these things amaze you, but can we talk about them later?”

  A hint of his usual grin returned. “I take an interest in all magic. I never know when it will come in useful.”

  “It hurt you when Emmett took away your dragon. It broke my heart.”

  “What did I do? B
reak down and cry like a whiny baby?”

  I was surprised he’d even think so. “No. You still took care of me. And you had some earth magic left, and strength. You were still my Mick.”

  “I see.” Mick squeezed my hand, but gently. “Glad I didn’t fall apart. It shows that you believe I wouldn’t. It was your dream, so I acted as you perceive me in real life. I’m flattered.”

  I started to argue that I wasn’t sure it had been a true dream when I noticed that the fingers on my left hand were bare. I slid my hand from his grasp and studied my fingers in alarm. “My engagement ring. Why don’t I—”

  I broke off as Mick dug the silver circlet out of the pocket of his jeans. “I kept it safe for you. I didn’t want it to get lost.”

  I blew out my breath. For one awful moment, I’d thought myself still dreaming, in yet another weird alternate reality.

  “I’m not sure they’re truly dreams,” I said as Mick slipped the band onto my finger. I relaxed when I felt the silver, warmed by Mick’s body heat, against my skin. “I might have been riding some kind of spell into the past, or an alternate version of it. In this one, the Dragon Council tried to kill you for telling them you’d protect me from them.”

  Mick looked interested again. “I remember when I met with them. I knew that night could have gone either way.”

  I shuddered. “It was horrible, but it’s over now. Can we go home? I don’t like cities. Phoenix is too big, too hot, too scary.”

  “Not yet.” Mick splayed his hand on my chest, as though believing I’d leap up and run to the nearest bus heading north. “You heal first.”

  Thoughts were coming back to me. “Before I was crushed, Emmett’s driver said Emmett had offices here. Remember? What happened to him—Sam, the chauffeur? Emmett dosed him with a strange spell.” I remembered Mick’s hands beginning to fuse to Sam’s body, which was why Mick had become a dragon.

  “He made it,” Mick said. “The paramedics took him. Whatever was trying to meld us stopped when I grew scales—maybe the spell only worked on humans. I didn’t collapse the building, though—I tore out the back wall in the interrogation room to escape and left everything else intact. Emmett must have triggered the rest of it.”

  He broke off, his look becoming sad again. “Nash and firemen were digging you out by the time I flew back.” Mick swallowed, his voice quieting. “I don’t know what happened to Emmett’s thugs.”

  “We can ask him,” I said. “We’ll find Emmett’s office and drag him out of it. Get Drake, Colby, and Coyote to help. Bring Cassandra down here too. Plus my grandmother—Emmett’s gone one-on-one with her before and didn’t like it.”

  “Calm down.” Mick didn’t move his hand, and it grew heavier through my thin hospital gown. “I did check out his office building. He hasn’t been there for weeks.”

  “So we’ll stake it out. I want to confront him. Teach him not to mess with us.”

  “We will.” Mick’s rumble was soothing. “But not yet. I need you at full strength if we’re going after him.”

  “Mmm.” I relaxed down into the bed and put my hand over his. “How about a little dose of dragon healing?”

  The glint in Mick’s eye returned. Knowing him, he’d likely been feeding me healing magic all the while I was unconscious, but he understood what I meant.

  He pulled the loose gown to bare my shoulders and began to kiss my neck, my throat, and down between my breasts.

  ***

  I agreed to stay and recover but only if my family went home. The next person I asked to see after Mick was my dad.

  Pete sat down in the chair Mick had vacated and glanced at the machinery around me. He didn’t clasp my hand, but he didn’t need to. My dad and I had a connection even when we didn’t touch.

  “Mick takes care of you well,” he said. He looked tired, with lines around his eyes.

  “Yeah, he does.” I smiled weakly. “Better than I deserve.”

  Dad gave me a wise look, obviously disagreeing. “You deserve all happiness, my daughter.”

  My heart squeezed in a way that hurt. “Thanks for coming down. I know you hate hospitals even more than I do.” I paused. “I heard your flute. It was beautiful—it pulled me awake. Thank you.”

  My father’s dark eyes softened but his cheeks burned a little red, my dad always embarrassed when someone praised his playing. “We’d not leave you alone,” he said. “Your grandmother led the way. You should have seen her running for the truck, shouting for us all to come, and to hurry. She loves you very much, Janet.”

  When I’d been a child, I’d been convinced Grandmother had hated me. Now I knew her anger at me had been born of fear. She’d been terrified my mother would rise up in me and not only hurt my dad but take me—the real Janet—away from them. Grandmother’s harsh lessons had taught me to be strong, to fight even myself.

  “I love her too.” My smile deepened. “I’d like to see her face when you tell her that.”

  We shared an amused look, my dad and me. We knew exactly how Grandmother reacted when she feared being sentimental.

  “Go home,” I said to him. “You should be concentrating on your wedding, not your messed-up daughter.”

  By my dad’s expression he didn’t agree, but he nodded. “Your grandmother wants it to be a grand ceremony. All the old ways with everyone in the family attending.”

  Everyone in the family meant a mob scene. I think my dad’s ancestors attempted to populate the entire planet with Begays. I needed a chart to keep my many cousins straight.

  “She’s excited,” I told him. “You’re marrying a normal woman from a normal family.”

  “Gina has shamanism in her family. And talent.” My dad sounded proud. Gina did make lovely jewelry, sometimes with turquoise and other semiprecious stones, sometimes with a simple mix of gold and silver.

  “She’s wonderful,” I said. “I’m just as excited for you as Grandmother is.”

  My dad gave me one of his rare smiles. “Gina reminds me of you.”

  Without explaining what he meant, my father rose, touched my forehead with steady fingers, and left me.

  ***

  I stayed in the hospital two more days. I finally persuaded my dad to go back to Many Farms, though my grandmother told me pointedly that she’d have him and Gina drop her off at my hotel. They left, and I felt better. I didn’t want them anywhere near a place where Emmett had a base.

  With Mick’s healing magic and my returning strength, I recovered quickly, to the surprise of the doctors. When I felt well enough and the hospital discharged me, I asked Mick to book a hotel room in the heart of downtown.

  From there, we went in search of Emmett Smith.

  Chapter Twenty

  From my hospital room, I’d been able to look down on a freeway through the city and the sea of humanity hemming us in. It made me crazy.

  True, I could lift my gaze and focus on the low mountains that snaked through town, rising free of buildings like islands of calm. The city had agreed long ago to keep the inner mountains as a preserve, places of serenity for its inhabitants to enjoy.

  Even so, the aura of so many living on top of each other made my skin itch. The only time I’d ever stayed in such a place was Flagstaff when I’d attended NAU. Then, at least, I was comforted by the San Francisco peaks raising their snowy heads above the town, and the fact that a fifteen-minute drive through traffic would take me to open country. Here, a person could drive for hours and still be surrounded by city. It made me claustrophobic.

  Mick took it in stride as usual. He booked us into a swanky high-rise hotel only a block or two from Emmett’s building. The morning after my release from the hospital, we breakfasted in a busy restaurant that served tasty food, and walked from the shadows of its doorway into the sunshine.

  It was a Tuesday. Anyone I’d met from Phoenix talked a lot about what they did on weekends—camping, boating on one of the many lakes, hiking, swimming, golfing, heading for the Grand Canyon or Mexico, or up to th
e White Mountains or Flag to ski. To hear them you’d think Phoenix was all about being outdoorsy and sporty. But that was on the weekend. During the week, downtown Phoenix was all about work.

  I’d been to Manhattan, where I’d found something entertaining around every corner. In Phoenix, there’s another office around every corner. Restaurants, sure, but only to feed people in the offices. After five, many of the restaurants close, and most people go home to the suburbs, unless there was an event downtown, like a baseball or basketball game. I’d watched the mad crush on the freeway from my hospital room, everyone scrambling to get back to the far-flung reaches of the metropolis, leaving the center of town mostly deserted.

  At ten this morning it was fairly quiet on the streets, as everyone had gone inside the air conditioned buildings. Fairly quiet—if we’d seen this much traffic in Magellan or Flat Mesa we’d wonder what emergency had occurred.

  Mick led me at a stroll across Central and into the avenues, seeming to know his way around perfectly. No one gave him much of a second glance—Mick with his crazy black hair in a short ponytail, a silver earring glinting in one lobe, and tatts showing from under his T-shirt sleeves, wasn’t that unusual here. Lots of bikers made this city home, and though people downtown wore suits, the constant heat made dress a little more casual. The guys running around in shirts and ties, pressed slacks, and shiny shoes, though, shot Mick looks of envy.

  A glass and steel building rose among many on the corner of Second Avenue and Adams. Mick walked right in, politely holding the door for a couple of women in silk shirts and skirts who gave him interested smiles.

  Whatever they did in this building, security was pretty tight. A security guard on one side of a walk-through metal detector handed out baskets for keys and cell phones then gave them to the guard on the other side. Mick relinquished his keys and phone and walked through without a beep. Since I had neither phone nor keys, I showed my open hands and walked in after him.

  The metal detector found nothing, and Mick was his usual friendly self as he retrieved his belongings. Mick never saw a need to carry tangible weapons.