Dream Magic

by Michelle Mankin

  A short flight brought me to the middle of the canyon where the house perched like a nest on a small outcropping just wide enough to suspend it hundreds of feet above the valley floor. I landed silently on the cedar planks outside the wing of the house that contained my personal quarters. I pulled in a breath. Nothing but fresh mountain cedar with no gargoyle taint in the air. Flattening my back against the roughhewn log walls, I gave my surroundings a visual once over before lifting the window sash and ducking inside.

  My jaw tightened as I took in the devastation. The poster bed I had carved with my own talons had been reduced to small unsalvageable pieces. The mattress and box springs were shredded. Clothes that had been painstakingly modified to accommodate my wings had been taken out of the closet, ripped and the fragments strewn all over the floor.

  Focus, Morpheus. The tips of my talons dug into my palms. Gaze as hard as the knot in my gut, I moved to the closet, pressed the secret notch in the floor and lifted the panel. The small space inside looked empty at first glance, but I pressed another latch and dust motes wafted to my nose. I exhaled a relieved breath that stirred them. The items I sought were unmolested.

  I carefully folded the sheet of worn paper with my mother’s handwriting on it. Her last song, a requiem to my father, me and my brothers. I put it into my jeans’ pocket. I ran a reverential finger over the other, a photo, the only one I had of the two of them, my mother with her golden hair and warm smile and my father with dark coloring and fierce expression. I slid it into the same pocket that now contained the letter and Billy’s ring for Thyme. Then I put everything back into its place in the closet. As I straightened, I heard a sound. My head snapped to the side, my mind registering that the noise had been a pebble hitting the window pane.

  Samuel.

  A warning.

  I draped one leg over the window ledge and then the other, talons extended to lethal length as their mortar and mildew stench assaulted my nose.

  Gargoyles one to either side of me on the porch.

  “Fu…” The one that resembled a Chinese dragon managed only half the obscenity before his severed stone head dropped to the ground, the weight of it crunching the cedar planks of the deck. I wore a grim grin as I hooked my arm around the other from behind before he could flee. I doubted that he even heard the sound of my obsidian claws slicing through his thick stony neck. His head fell alongside his companion’s, his saggy eyes forever frozen in surprise. The hulking bodies would stand as permanent sentries by my window, not that any would come to witness them.

  I certainly wouldn’t return.

  I had what I wanted.

  Nothing remained for me in this place anymore.

  “You’re late.” Displeasure narrowed my gaze as I regarded Hermes, the messenger god who looked, spoke and acted the part of a California surfer. “I waited in the designated spot on the Main Concourse for over an hour.”

  “Yeah?” He shrugged his thin shoulders. He looked larger than he really was inside the artificially lit exit tunnel. “Sorry, bird dude.” It was difficult to hear him over the whir of his propeller powered time space continuum folding shoes. “I was kinda held up.” His ocean blue eyes were red rimmed and the overpowering scent of ganja that accompanied him was an assault to my raptor senses. “And felt up.” He flashed me a dimpled grin while attempting and failing to smooth out the spikes of bleach blond hair that stood up all over his head in a hundred different incongruent directions. “Couple of smokin’ hot nymphs wanted to go skinny dipping. How could I refuse?”

  “Indeed.” I lifted a brow.

  “Here.” He thrust a thick stack of sealed envelopes into my hands. “Don’t be such a hardass. I noticed you got a request from the Cypress organization.” His spinning irises stilled for a brief coherent moment.

  “The who?” I inquired having no idea what he was talking about.

  “Cypress. Duh. The secret organization that breaks out condemned prisoners from Phoebus’ prison. Cypress is their symbol. Flame top for a purpose they say can never be extinguished and roots that delve deep into the earth for the Creator’s inexhaustible strength. They’ve been really busy since the sun dude got all chop happy with his obsidian guillotine.” An image of the dagger with the cypress emblem from Hephaestus’ forge sprung immediately to my mind. “Danger. Intrigue. Secrecy. The big Kahuna is mental about all the trouble Cypress has been giving him. He’s offering a huge reward for any information that might help expose their leader. Whoever it is has some major balls.” He waggled his brows. “They’re giving you some serious competition in the badassery department, buzzard beak. I took the liberty of reading the request.”

  “Hermes,” I growled in warning.

  “Hang loose, winged thing. I’m a Council Favored. I’m not afraid of you. Cypress is just too gnarly. Are you going to take the job? Their payment is way higher than your usual fee.”

  Ignoring his rambling, I extended a talon, slipped it under the seal and scanned the missive for myself. A transport. A basic point A to point B. Only it wasn’t so simple with Phoebus involved. The handwriting was unfamiliar. A faint floral scent wafted upward from the communique’. I inhaled deeply filling my lungs with the intoxicating fragrance. My vision tunneled. For a brief moment I thought I saw a pair of moonbeam hued eyes fringed by dark lashes. A weird buzzing filled my ears. The room tilted. I got so lightheaded I swayed. Heart thundering irregularly inside my chest, I crushed the thick vellum in my sweaty palm.

  “Dude,” Hermes drawled grabbing my arm and holding me steady. “You ok? You look like you’re gonna pass out or something.”

  “I am perfectly fit. I have never passed out in my entire life.” I shook my head to clear it and gave him a curt nod to confirm the return of my equilibrium. “You may release me. “Whatever had just occurred reminded me of the way I had felt the time I had flown too high over the Himalayas. Holding up a finger to Hermes who seemed to want to say something, I backed up and examined the letter from a less shadowed position under the overhead lights. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No trace of any hallucinogenic substance. The offer was very generous. If I employed my usual tactics and all went well the odds of a success were high. A boring job perhaps, but convenient given the high level of uncertainty surrounding my personal life at the moment.

  “Are you going to do it?” Hermes asked, his impatience making him bounce on his toes.

  “I will consider it.” Meaning I would have to do some investigating of my own regarding the Cypress organization before making my final determination. I always researched requests. I never took an assignment if it didn’t meet my own ethical standards.

  His grin widened. “Yeah, that’s the way I figured you would play it. You are so flippin’ tedius, Morpheus. Aren’t you curious at all? I certainly am. I wanna know who is behind this Cypress organization. I bet it’s an immortal within Phoebus’ court. It has to be an inside job. I’ve delivered Cypress requests to other mercenaries. They always originate in Paris. Strange that they picked someone who lives so far away from there. But I guess Paris is the sister city of Nola, eh?”

  I put my hands on his shoulders and gave him a firm shake. He rambled and went off on tangents a lot. Apparently the folding of time and space had scrambled his brain over the centuries, if not the incessant marijuana usage.

  “You’re such a bore, winged freak.” His eyes refocused on me. “So serious. All work and not enough play, makes Morpheus a dull bird?” He stuck out his palm. “Always a pleasure to talk to you, but I’ve got more exciting things to do. The fee’s cash on delivery. The usual amount.”

  I withdrew the wad of bills from my pocket careful not to disturb the photo of my parents, the lyrics, or Billy’s ring for Thyme. I passed him his payment and his eyes started spinning again. He had an expensive fondness for the weed and he liked to spoil his women. He would probably spend all of it before the day was through.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” He slapped his forehead. “I heard you and my favorite
party dude Bacchus are working together with that Piper who spit in Polly’s eye…to change the Code. Right?”

  “You are correct.”

  “I’m in. Let Bacchus know. Makes no sense not to be. Sometimes when I fold space I see glimpses of possible futures. I want the one that comes after that rule is abolished. It’s gonna be totally bitchin’.”

  “You have returned.” My nostrils twitched at the burnt brimstone scent that surrounded him like an infernal cloud, an olfactory warning to those who might come too close like the visual markings on a cobra’s hood.

  “So have you. You were gone a long time, Morpheus.” My older brother Shane Lamar emerged from the shadow provided by the rock overhang over his head. He preferred the cloak of darkness even in human form because of the twin scars beneath his eyes from Apollyon’s blade. Once handsome enough to turn heads, though only Thyme’s had ever mattered to him, the former medical student’s black hair was as messy as the messenger god’s had been. His t-shirt was ripped in several places, the sleeves cut off and his jeans were riddled with irregular holes. He looked like a reprobate rocker, like one of the guys from Tempest, the up and coming band I had seen on the magazine covers with Billy. Only in Lamar’s mossy green eyes I could find no trace of irreverent mischief, just sad resignation to his lonely fate. The matching slashes carved into each cheek recalled the tears I suspected he had shed knowing that the woman he loved above all others would never again be his.

  “You look well,” he said studying me as intently as I did him. He drew in a deep breath and his eyes darkened. His demon sense of smell was as heightened as my raptor sight and hearing. His expression transformed from resigned to ravaged. “You’ve been to see her already.” His voice hitched significantly even though he didn’t utter her name. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. When he reopened them they were misted with the sheen of all that he had lost. “How is she?” He swallowed.

  I didn’t need him to clarify.

  “Thyme is well.” He was relieved by my words, but I didn’t elaborate beyond that generality. Too much of an explanation would involve mentioning Billy, a topic sure to anger him.

  “Good.” He glanced away. I noticed that his arms were stiff at his sides as if the internal battle waging within him were more fierce than usual. “Has he…has Blade asked for her hand already?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “But how…”

  “It is what I would do,” he interrupted me before I could finish my question. “Thyme is…” He trailed off scraping his hands through his hair. “Thyme was…she is…the type of woman you hold onto and never let go.” He still loved her. He might have pushed her away for her own good but he seemed incapable of truly setting her free. He had almost brought down the ceiling in one of his cavern annexes when I had revealed that Thyme was with Billy, and that they were Fated. I decided it would be best to steer the conversation away from the woman who had once worn his ring on her finger.

  “How long have you been able to keep the demon at bay with your latest serum?” I queried.

  “Ten days.” Shane scratched his chest with nails that were blunt, but shiny and black as if he had painted them with Goth polish. “But already I can feel the beast stirring beneath my skin. I have to make the antidote stronger.” His gaze seemed to turn inward clouding with an emotion I couldn’t read. “I must make it more effective. Time is running out.” I didn’t know what he meant, but his raw whisper made it seem as though the thought of failure physically pained him. He shook his head, his eyes refocusing on me. “I was on my way back to my den when I overheard something I thought you should know. Something disturbing.”

  I froze as solid as the ice that rimmed the peaks of the Himalayas. Disturbing news in the Desolate Lands where the worst outcasts of Underground society retreated, meant something truly dire.

  “Apollyon has a contract out on Thyme.”

  “Hellfire!” The tidings were grim if not unexpected. “Watch is kept over her at all times,” I assured him. “Other mercenaries. Her father. Myself. And Billy never leaves her side.”

  Shane tensed at the mention of our younger brother. His shoulders went back and his fingers tightened into fists. The ire of his beast flared inside his gaze. I didn’t foresee there being any future where my two brothers would bond. Thyme would always stand between them. “That’s not good enough.” His words sounded strangled. “Apollyon is offering full immunity for past crimes plus a lifetime’s accommodation inside his palace for the one who brings Thyme to him.”

  A high bounty indeed. “Dead or alive?” I asked bracing for the answer.

  “Alive,” he replied.

  Before I could thank the Creator for that mercy, he shared the rest.

  “One who has accepted is a primordial.”

  My raptor blood ran ice cold. No wonder Shane was so agitated. These were ill tidings. A primordial was a powerful elemental being. The stuff of myths and legends. No one knew exactly what one looked like since they could take on any form. Earth. Water. Fire. Wind. Impossible to prepare for an attack by such a creature. Worrisome also that a primordial skin was said to seethe a toxin that paralyzed its victims.

  “I see by your expression that you get it.” Shane raked back a fistful of hair nearly as black as my own. The back of his hand was crisscrossed with scratches as if he had tried to peel off the skin with his own nails. He loathed the demon that clawed beneath it. “You should take her away from here, Morpheus. Right away. Tonight.”

  “She has plans tonight. Maybe tomorrow…”

  “Tomorrow might be too late,” he spit the words out bitterly. “There’s no time for riverside parties or dramatic proposals, not when Thyme’s safety is at stake. I will do what I can to intercept those he has hired. But you must warn her.” He swallowed and his voice was huskier when he continued. “Warn those closest to her.” Which he no longer was. By his own choice. A choice that had hurt Thyme deeply but one I agreed with since he was now a flesh eating Duality Demon with unpredictable transformative cycles.

  I gave him a quick nod and launched myself into the Underground sky. In the back of my mind I marveled at the surprisingly accurate amount of detail Shane had divulged regarding the circumstances around Billy’s imminent proposal.

  But for the present there was only one priority.

  Thyme.

  I rocketed through great room after great room in the cavernous outer reaches of the Desolate Lands dodging thin and thick stalactites, then banking hard to evade a party of Apollyon’s spies once I entered the vast open space of the Great Plain. Tucking my limbs in tight when I reached the subterranean tunnel that connected the plains to the Main Concourse, I scraped my wings but managed to stay airborne once I burst free. Inside the cathedral like interior of the concourse, I ignored the black trees that columned it and aimed toward the high domed ceiling, the wind from my passage rattling vamps, hell-hounds, demons and kelpies alike who turned their gaze upward as I soared by them. I didn’t slow down even when I hit the supernatural barrier that separated the Underground from the mundane world above.

  Exiting the secret tomb portal, I shot straight up into the darkening sky above St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. I hooked a sharp right and headed east along the banks of the Mississippi River. My wing curvature and the favorable wind current at altitude propelled me forward at jet speed. Zeroing in on the small town of Darrow where the outdoor surprise party for Thyme was being held, my heart pumped to a fervent refrain. Please let her be ok. Please let her be ok.

  Being the fastest immortal on the planet had its advantages, reducing a journey that would have taken at least an hour by car to just minutes.

  But even that seemed too long.

  I topped a grain elevator then dipped my shoulder to descend toward the majestic oaks on Houma Plantation’s front lawn. Conversation and laughter reaching my ears, I followed the sound to a line of cars parked along the riverbank. The tangy aroma of barbequed ribs and the spice from the steaming crawdads made my mouth
water. Ignoring my stomach, I folded in my wings, and went headfirst into a steep dive that propelled me through the air even faster than I normally flew. Wind whipped tears from my eyes. I blinked them away and scanned the ground for her. The party appeared to be in full swing. Everyone who had been invited seemed to have arrived. Mississippi, Thyme’s mother with her elegant posture and her head covered in cinnamon colored braids sat on one of the picnic table benches beside Chantelle, Thyme’s grey haired adopted grandmother. Arla stood a couple of feet away. He had an Abita beer bottle in his hand and his gaze fixed on Mississippi. Those two seemed to have a book of unresolved history.

  Thyme’s mortal friend Anthony was manning the grill. His wife and two small girls were at the picnic table closest to him. Also sitting with them was a pretty redhead in tight jeans. Billy’s personal assistant. Lorraine. I reared back pulling out of my dive just in time. I couldn’t let her see me. Anthony knew about the supernatural world because of Thyme and his friendship with Billy. Lorraine to my knowledge did not. Revealing yourself to a mortal was a Code violation. None of us needed that kind of attention from the Council.

  I looked for a safe spot to land. A cove of nearby trees looked promising. I was heading toward it when I heard Thyme’s familiar laugh. Billy’s huskier one followed. I spotted them to the left of the trees. They were on an ATV together, the wheels leaving deep grooves in the mud. Changing trajectory, I headed for a spot directly in their path.

  “Morpheus!” Thyme shouted as soon as my boots hit the ground. Billy cut the engine and lifted his chin to acknowledge me. Unwinding her arms from around Billy’s waist, Thyme dismounted and ran across the muddy ground toward me. Her jean shorts and her t-shirt were splattered but she didn’t seem to care. She wore a grin as large as my brother’s. In fact, I don’t think I had ever seen her look happier.

  I didn’t want to be the one to take that away.