Waking Nightmares

by Christopher Golden

  The soil in the clearing had been turned and most of the yellowing grass raked out, as though in preparation for a garden. This section of the orchard was kept as free of pesticides as possible, but still the soil had trace chemicals that traveled through groundwater. The celebration of the equinox called for purification. For many, this would be symbolic purity, but Keomany wished for something better.

  From somewhere far off, she heard a woman calling after her child. She turned her face toward the sun and closed her eyes, arms outthrust, apple still clutched in her hand, and let its warmth fill her and flow through her. She felt it in her bones and relished it, even as she enjoyed the sound of the autumn breeze rustling through the apple trees. The scent of the rotting, fermenting apples already fallen mixed with the sweet smell of those still hanging from the branches, and this was the smell of life, and of the earth.

  Contented, she opened her eyes and walked to the center of the clearing, her shoes making impressions in the freshly turned soil. Closing her eyes again, she faced eastward and whispered blessings to the air and earth, then turned and repeated the blessings facing west, then again south, and finally north.

  As she spoke, the wind rose around her, buffeting her gently with breezes both warm and cold. The air caressed her, her silken black hair whipping around her face, and she breathed deeply. She felt Gaea, the earth mother, the goddess, there with her. At all times, Keomany felt a small buzzing in her mind, a warm shiver in her flesh, a power that lay mostly dormant within her, but that connected her to Gaea. She could summon that magic at will. It connected her to the elements, to all of nature, and she had called the wind that surrounded her now.

  She opened her arms and let that magic flow from her, down into the ground. The soil began to shift and the clearing to tremble as the chemical impurities in that patch of land were destroyed or rendered inert as if they had been burned away. Grass began to spring up from the soil, growing quickly. She could hear the wind singing from the blades and could feel the grass underfoot and brushing against her legs.

  Keomany took a bite of the apple, opened her eyes, and dropped it to the ground. She stepped back to watch as the seeds inside the fruit sent shoots down into the soil. In the space between eye blinks, a finger-length sprig emerged. Smiling, feeling the harmony of earth magic, she moved farther away to give it room to grow, and as she looked on, the sprig stretched upward with a whisper of life, branches forming, leaves growing, blossoms appearing and then flowering into being as gleaming, green, Granny Smith apples. The tree—nine or ten feet tall now—seemed almost to sigh and settle its roots more deeply, and then the wind subsided and only the smallest breeze remained to gently sway its branches. With its leaves turned toward the sun, this newborn fruit of the earth thrived.

  During the celebration there would be at least one apple for each of those in attendance—Keomany would make certain of it. They would partake together, and in years to come, other trees would grow from this one, and so the purity of the earth and the peace of Gaea would continue to spread through Summerfields and to all of those who ate of this tree, and those that would grow from its seeds.

  “Blessed—” Keomany began to say.

  The pain made her cry out, surging up through the magical umbilical that tethered her to the goddess. It made her muscles contract and her legs give way, and she fell in the newly grown grass. Spikes hammered into her skull and the shadows cast by the trees at the edges of the clearing reached knife-blade fingers for her, forcing her to close her eyes. But she couldn’t hide from the pain, or the nausea that roiled in her gut, or the images that rose in her mind of waves crashing against a pier, of unnatural things scuttling onto the shore, and of dark mist flowing through the streets of a small town, swallowing it up.

  The mist enveloped her, pain and darkness suffocating her, and she sank down into herself and oblivion claimed her.

  For a time, Keomany knew nothing. The darkness coalesced, eddying around her as though she lay in some midnight tide pool, pain subsiding and her breathing returning to normal.

  A voice whispered her name. For just a moment, she thought it might be the goddess herself. Then, as consciousness returned, she winced away from the brightness of the sun. Slowly, she opened her eyes to slits, and saw Tori Osborne looking down at her, beautiful ebony face framed by ropes of beaded hair.

  “Hey,” Tori said gently. “Anybody home in there?”

  Keomany groaned. The pain in her head had gone, but the moment she tried to move, it returned.

  “What happened to you?” Tori asked.

  It took Keomany a moment, but then the memory flooded back into her mind. Whatever connection Gaea had created to link her to that place, she still felt it. The goddess had cried out as the taint of evil had touched that town and began to spread. Keomany had felt her anguish, and she knew the name of that town.

  She tried to speak, but her voice was a rasp.

  “Hang on,” Tori said, turning to the others who had gathered around her in the clearing by the new apple tree. She reached out toward them, and the orchard manager, scruffy Patrick, handed Tori a bottle of water.

  Tori helped Keomany prop herself up and handed her the bottle. Keomany winced at the pain in her head, but the water tasted wonderful. She wondered how long she had been out there under the sun before someone had wondered why she had been gone so long and come looking for her.

  “Goddess, is she all right?” a familiar voice called.

  They all turned to see Tori’s wife, the tall, curvy Cat Hein, come hurrying into the clearing. Cat fell to her knees beside Tori, and now both women were doting over her. Keomany managed a smile, more for them than for herself.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” Cat asked.

  Keomany took another sip of water, then nodded to her friends. “I’m all right. Help me up. I’ve got to get to the house. I need the phone.”

  They steadied her as she rose to her feet.

  “What’s going on, Keomany?” Tori asked. “Who do you have to call?”

  Keomany started away from the new tree, toward the house on the other side of the orchard.

  “Octavian,” she said, glancing back at them. “And I’ll need someone to watch my shop. I’m going to be going away for a little while.”

  THE coffee Viviane Chenot had brewed could have doubled as a rust remover, but Octavian didn’t mind. He liked it strong, and if it was also bitter, he didn’t mind, and he never tried to subdue the flavor with sugar. Nikki had no such hesitations. She smiled as she dumped three heaping teaspoons of sugar into her coffee, and even then he knew she only drank it to be polite.

  They sat around the little table in the dining area just outside Viviane’s galley kitchen. Perhaps the change could be attributed to a new lightness of spirit for Viviane herself, but the place seemed brighter to Octavian, the colors of the paintings and even the flowers on the table more vivid.

  “I can’t thank you enough for what you did,” Viviane said.

  “I’m only glad I was in time,” Octavian replied.

  Viviane’s lover and former professor, Derek Tremblay, raised his coffee cup in a toast.

  “Don’t be modest,” the professor said. “You’ve earned yourself a certain notoriety, Peter, but a lot of people think you’re some kind of charlatan. I thank God that you’re not.”

  Nikki reached out and touched Octavian’s face, pushing her fingers back through his hair. “He is something, isn’t he?”

  Octavian rolled his eyes, not because he minded public displays of affection but because he had never been comfortable with lavish praise, not even from the woman he loved.

  “All right, rock star,” he teased.

  Nikki bristled. She always argued that her music wasn’t technically “rock.” When they were sparring like this, it never failed to get a rise out of her. It felt good to be playful with her. Much of the tension that had been growing between them had abated, though he feared that soon enough, like the tide, it would r
oll back in again.

  Nikki did not offer a retort, and he knew why. Ever since Viviane had opened the door to let them into the apartment, the girl had been alternately staring at Nikki and sneaking glances at her. She hadn’t made it to superstardom, and would be happy if it never came to that, but there was no denying that Nikki had attained a certain amount of fame. Viviane Chenot was having difficulty adjusting to having a celebrity sitting at her table, drinking her coffee.

  “How’s your brother doing, anyway?” Nikki asked.

  Viviane smiled at her. “Amazingly well. When he woke up this morning, his vision was a little blurry, and I’m going to take him to see a doctor if it doesn’t clear by tomorrow. Otherwise . . .” She frowned, shrugging. “His throat is sore and kind of hoarse. I’m not sure if it will ever go back to normal, but honestly, if that’s the worst of it, he’ll adjust. Everyone else is . . . well, they’re gone forever. And I’ve still got my brother.”

  Her eyes welled with emotion. Octavian shifted in his chair, a bit uncomfortable.

  Nikki laid a gentle hand on Viviane’s arm. “He was lucky to have you. If you had just brought him to a doctor and waited for them to realize they had no idea how to help him, he’d never have survived.”

  Viviane smiled, then glanced lovingly at the professor. “It’s Derek, really. When I told him . . . he was the one who suggested calling Mr. Octavian. I was totally out of my mind—just didn’t know what to do.”

  She grabbed the professor’s hand and tugged him toward her for a tender kiss. Octavian caught Nikki watching them and smiled at her. Tough as she pretended to be, Nikki had a profoundly romantic heart. She met his gaze, and a moment of sweet silence passed between them. Once, it had been this way all the time.

  “We should go,” Nikki said, as much to him as to Viviane and Derek. “Let you guys get on with your lives. I’m sure you’ve had to let a lot of important things fall into chaos this week. You’ll need to catch up.”

  Viviane nodded, squeezing Derek’s hand. “After something like this, your definition of what’s ‘important’ changes.”

  She rose from the table, and they all followed suit.

  “Thank you so much,” Derek said, shaking Octavian’s hand, and then Nikki’s.

  “I’m happy I could help,” Octavian said, as he and Nikki put on their coats.

  “Hang on,” Viviane said. “Before you go, let me just have a quick look and see if Michael is awake. I know he’ll want to thank you himself.”

  Octavian glanced at Nikki, who nodded. Her next show was in Portland, Maine, on Friday, so they had two days to make their way down into the States. No rush at all. They waited while Viviane went down the hall and checked on Michael, but now that they’d said their goodbyes it felt strange to linger.

  A musical trilling sound defused the awkwardness. Octavian had left his cell phone on its factory-set ring tone, but still it took him a moment to realize the noise came from the pocket of his jacket. Nikki looked at him expectantly—usually it was her cell phone that rang incessantly. Only a handful of people even had Octavian’s cell number.

  “Hello?” he said, pressing the slim black phone to his ear.

  As he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, he saw Nikki watching him and already he felt the distance between them returning, so much sooner than he had expected. He felt a twinge of guilt knowing he would be drawn away for a time, and resented the feeling.

  Viviane rejoined them. “Sorry, guys. He’s still . . .” she began, before she realized Octavian was on the phone and let her words trail off.

  “All right,” Octavian said. “I’ll call you from the road and give you an ETA.”

  He ended the call and tucked his phone into his jeans. The interior of the small apartment seemed to have dimmed, as though clouds had begun to gather outside.

  “What’s going on?” Nikki asked, making a visible effort to hide her disappointment.

  Octavian glanced at Viviane and Derek but then returned his attention to Nikki, the others in the room forgotten.

  “That was Keomany,” he said. “There’s trouble.”

  What more could he say? She knew that there were certain kinds of trouble he was better at handling than anyone else in the world, and that his conscience would never allow him to refuse to help. Nor would she want him to refuse, if only for the sake of her own conscience.

  Her gaze full of regret, she nodded and reached for his hands.

  “I’ve toured on my own plenty of times.”

  “You don’t have to go on your own,” Octavian offered. “The label will send a minder or an assistant or something.”

  Nikki arched an eyebrow. “I’d rather be on my own than have a babysitter from the label.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a coquettish smile, a game attempt to dispel the renewed hesitation between them. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

  “I know you can,” Octavian said.

  “I could come with you. Cancel a few dates,” Nikki offered.

  But Octavian shook his head. “No. I know how you feel about letting people down when they’ve paid good money to see you. I’m only going as far as Massachusetts. Keomany and I will get this thing sorted out, and then I’ll catch up with you, wherever you are.”

  Nikki kissed him. “You’d better.”

  Octavian glanced at the professor. “Derek, can you run me to the airport? I need a rental car.”

  “Sure,” the professor said, he and Viviane looking at them with concern. “Just tell me when you want to go.”

  Octavian turned back to Nikki. “It needs to be now.”

  “It’s that bad?” she asked, worry creasing her forehead for the first time.

  Octavian kissed her, caressing her cheek, wondering how many days it would be before he saw her again.

  “I guess I’ll find out when I get there.”

  ALL Amber wanted was to go home. She smiled and nodded at the nurse but barely listened to the woman. From the moment Dr. Millet had given her a clean bill of health, she had been champing at the bit. All of her life, she had hated hospitals. At age six, she had broken her leg, and she could still remember the hellish discomfort of the hospital bed and the stink of human rot that lay just below the smell of disinfectant they used to try to hide it. But the worst part of being hospitalized had not been the injury or the treatment—it had been the sensation of being trapped there, on that awful bed, surrounded by the sick and the dying.

  So she forced herself to smile and she signed the paperwork for her release, and she took the piece of paper the nurse had printed up giving her nutritional advice on how to avoid doing the kind of damage to her body that might lead to a seizure. They were giving her a piece of paper instead of drugs because they had spent five hours trying to figure out what had caused her morning to turn to shit, and they’d come up empty.

  “Just call us if you don’t feel well, or if you’re concerned about anything at all,” the nurse said.

  Kind of hard to make a call if I’m spazzing out on the floor, she thought. But she smiled and nodded some more, and managed to thank the woman.

  Amber had been holding her cell phone in her hand, ignoring the buzz of new texts coming in because she didn’t want to be rude to the nurse. Now, as the woman ushered her out of the examination room and pointed her toward the exit, she glanced down at her messages. Two new ones, both from her best friend, Tami Nguyen.

  What time can u meet tonite? read the first message. Tami had followed seconds later with Is he really still waiting for u?

  Tami had been fretting dramatically over Amber’s health ever since Amber had first texted her that she was being taken to the hospital. But the second Amber had told her that the doctor thought she had just been dehydrated and possibly overcaffeinated, Tami had moved on to her more traditional concerns—partying.

  The doc said to rest tonite, she texted, which was halfway to a lie, in the sense that the doctor had actually given her that instruction, but Amber
would never have obeyed it if she really wanted to go and get drunk with Tami. More and more, of late, she had found herself losing interest in such things. She still had nearly two years left of college, but partying had lost its appeal the day she had turned twenty-one. Not that she had ever been nearly as into it as Tami. The girl had her charms, and Amber adored her, but she was a self-proclaimed drunken slut. There was real heart and intelligence and wisdom underneath the party-girl exterior, but over the past six months or so, Amber had been having to dig deeper and deeper to find that part of her friend, and it saddened her.

  Loser, Tami texted her.

  I know. How can u stand me?

  So is he still there or what?

  Amber clutched the phone in her hand and shifted her pocketbook from one shoulder to the other as she went out into the emergency room’s waiting area. She spotted Ben Draper immediately. He was reading a paperback book but seemed to sense her attention and glanced over to see her looking at him. Instantly, he jumped up from his chair and hurried toward her, his eyes hopeful.

  Yep, she texted.

  Wow. He so wants you.

  Doesn’t everyone?

  I do, Tami joked. Right now.

  Rain check. TTYL.

  Amber silenced her phone and dropped it into her pocketbook, zipping it up as Ben approached.

  “Hey,” Ben said, searching her eyes. “Are you okay? You look okay.”

  “Yeah. I mean, they think so. But ohmygod, Ben, you didn’t have to wait all this time. You’ve been here all day.”

  “Not all day,” he said, smiling. “Besides, it’s fine. I told Professor Varick I’d go with you, and when you said you didn’t want anyone to call your parents, I figured you’d need someone around to drive you back to campus to get your car. Anyway, I ate lunch and picked up this book at the gift shop.” He held it up like a prize he’d won. “Plus I was texting people. The time went by. Mostly I was just worried about you.”

  A strange warmth spread through Amber. She had liked Ben from the very first time they’d met, appreciated his sweetness and sincerity, but there had never been a spark between them, at least not for her. She had told herself he was too sweet, and too earnest. But now she looked at him and thought she saw, just for a moment, the man he was evolving into. She thought about the guys she usually ended up hanging out with when she partied with Tami, and she felt like she had just stumbled upon a universal truth—none of those guys were going to evolve into the kind of man she envisioned as part of her future.