Dream Killers - Complete Season 1 (The Dream Killers Book 3)
Page 31
Finn met my gaze and grimaced. “Why do I ge’ the feelin’ you’re the safer of the two to be aroun’?” He sighed and blinked out of sight with Olivia.
I turned back to the riverboat. Are you safe, Fandora?
I am, Fa—River. I am.
I nodded once, then reached for Bess.
The cool sea breeze and the bright afternoon sun faded away.
My feet found purchase on an asphalt parking lot. Dark clouds loomed around the apartment complex. Giant snowflakes flitted from the sky, landing on the cars and the ground, melting instantly.
A boy wearing a black baseball cap sideways rolled past me on a skateboard, a smirk on his face as he took in my appearance. “Nice threads, dude. Where’d you come from?”
It might be best to blend in.
Before I finished that thought, my tattered vest blended away. My long-sleeved, tie-front shirt rolled back and became a brown shirt that read, “I aim to misbehave,” on the front. My dark pants shifted into pale blue jeans.
The boy on the skateboard road into one of the air conditioning units. He flipped, landing on his back in the snowy grass.
I went up the three shallow steps to the door. What was I supposed to do? Knock? What if she were in the act of committing suicide? Would she answer the door? Would she ignore me?
“Give her some credit, Rivah,” I said to myself, making a rather bad attempt at Olivia’s accent. I knocked three times.
After a moment, something metal slid away and the lock knocked back.
Bess’ face peered through the opening. She frowned and opened it wider. “River? What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you. Can I come in?”
She closed her eyes for a long moment. I thought she’d refuse, then she stepped into the apartment.
The kitchen was wide. Closing the door, gave me access to the rest of the apartment. I followed her into the living room, perching on the couch.
She sat in a big, overstuffed brown chair, staring at the blank TV. “My dreams are dead, aren’t they?”
I nodded. “You can create new ones.”
“I dreamed of getting my girls back, of being with them, living with them, cooking them dinner, fighting with them to go to bed, teaching them to drive. Experiencing all their firsts with them. That’s all gone.”
I played with my fingernail to focus anywhere but on her.
“I think about all that and I just—I feel nothing. I think of my girls and I love them, but there’s no hope. I know they’re gone and I will never be a part of their lives.”
“You can’t say that.”
“Out loud?” She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Don’t kill yourself. They’ll still need you.”
She frowned at the TV, tucking her bare feet into the chair. “You know what’s gone? The hopelessness. The suppressive failure. With the hope gone, all the rest is gone, too. I know I did my best. It wasn’t good enough. Never would have been, but it’s okay now somehow. Like, without the hope, there’s no need to fight the inevitable. I can be okay now.”
I rubbed my nose. “You can’t mean that, Bess.”
“I can’t be okay? Do you have any idea how this feels? River, this is the best I’ve felt in years. Years.”
I studied her tear-blotched face. “It doesn’t look good.”
“Sometimes,” she said with a tired nod, “this is what relief looks like. I never realized the Hell I put myself through fighting something I couldn’t win. I was never good enough for those girls. The world knew that when I didn’t, when I refused to see it.”
“Bess.”
“No. It’s the truth. I can still add something good to the world, but I can accept now that my world will never include my daughters.”
I stared at her, a confused array of emotions battling for domination inside my chest. I wanted to be happy for her, to bask in her “relief,” but it looked more like depression.
“My heart will simply have to discover a new way to breathe.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. My brother’s coming over in a bit. I should—” She stared at the kitchen behind me. “I should do dishes.” She stood.
I rose with her.
“I’m . . . so much lighter, River.” She swayed in place, her head tipped to the side. “I’m not quite put back together yet, but I feel lighter.”
“Without hope.”
“Without baseless hope.” She met my gaze. “I’ll make my own. The real hope with real dreams. Dreams I can actually attain.”
I took a step toward the door, my mouth moving. I had no words.
She stopped at the doorway to the kitchen. “Hope isn’t the end of the world, River. We had that before and we’re capable of creating it within ourselves. We’ll be okay. I—” She put her hand to her chest. “I’ll be okay.”
My head bounced in a nod as I watched her retreat behind the wall. The sound of the faucet broke the silence.
Maybe things weren’t as bad as I’d thought.
No. Things were accelerating much too quickly. I had to figure out why.
But at least now I knew there would be fewer victims. Bess, who’d had her dreams destroyed, gave me hope.
The kind of hope that wasn’t a disease.
COMING 2015
Tune in Next Year for More Adventures in Dream Land!
COMING 2014
A nightmare is a person whose entire soul has been shattered. Not just a broken heart. When a heart breaks, you either become more selfish or more understanding, but your empathy lies only in one area.
When a soul shatters, when your world breaks, when you lose your reason to breathe, you either go insane or you do the one thing that makes you a nightmare.
You put yourself back together one tiny grain of soul at a time.
These re-buildings don’t always go well. There are many who are left broken, a crucial piece still missing. They lose the ability to tell right from wrong. They’re unable to tell themselves to stop. They lack inhibition.
On the rare occasion, when it’s done at least close to right, a person is born who sees more than others would wish. They look into your eyes and see your soul. They can tell when you lie, when you cheat, when you steal.
They only call you on it when you ask for help.
Most times, the person who becomes a nightmare is still missing pieces of himself. When a soul shatters, it’s impossible to find all the fragments. There’s always something that gets lost, a missing shard of soul at the point of origin, the first true strike that led to the person’s shattering moment.
Usually, it involves love.
SM Blooding lives in Colorado with her pet rock, Rockie, and Ms. Jack, who’s a real bird. Learning Arabic has been a bust, but only because she’s devoted most of her spare time to helping other authors. She hopes to take that back up again later. For now, she’s working on making covers for herself and others, and publishing as many novellas in one year as she can. It should be fun.
She’s single and available. So, if you happen to know someone who is also single and available—who also isn’t a vampire, a werewolf, a bagpipe player, or a government assassin—let her know. She’s entertaining the idea of having a social life. Oh, wait. This isn’t Match.com. Whoops.
She’s also an investigator with a local paranormal investigation group, Colorado Paranormal Rescue!
Find out more about at: www.smblooding.co
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Episode 1: Graveyard of Dreams
Once Upon a Time...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Ch
apter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Episode 2: Eyes of Stars
Once Upon a Time...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chatper 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Episode 3: Captain Tight Pants
Once Upon a Time...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Next Season on The Dream Killers
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About the Author