A dozen executive chairs surrounded a long, polished table. Oil portraits of wealthy stuffed-suit types hung along one wall. The opposite wall was floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was empty except for me. I switched on the InDetect and held it out, turning in a slow circle to check for hidden Drudes. Not a click. The room was clean.
A door opened to my right, and a group of businessmen filed in. They could have stepped out of the portraits. Each one was a white guy over sixty, wearing rimless eyeglasses, a tailored suit, and a no-nonsense expression. I pointed the InDetect their way. Nothing. These weren’t Drudes; they were legitimate dream figures, drawn from Tyler’s subconscious. As they passed, each glared at me with the same scowl and made the same harrumphing sound. These guys had to be the spitting image of Tyler’s boss. Or maybe his father. I’d bet tonight’s fee on it.
They sat at the table. As if on cue, they all turned to me, but only one spoke.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Of course I am. I’m here for the board meeting.”
Identical startled blinks ran around the table, but no one argued. Dream figures are a cinch to persuade. Usually, “of course” does the trick—say those words in a dream, and suddenly a bizarre situation makes perfect sense. If only it were that easy to convince people in waking life. But dreams have their own logic.
“Then take your seat.” The old man gestured impatiently.
“Thanks, but of course I’ll stand.” I had to be ready for action when a Drude showed up.
A door opened on the other side of the room. In walked Tyler, wearing nothing but an itsy-bitsy red Speedo and black patent-leather high heels. The outfit didn’t exactly flatter his paunchy physique, and his face was as bright red as the bathing suit.
The InDetect went crazy. Here was Tyler’s Drude. In a Speedo.
I switched off the InDetect before the Drude noticed its clicking. This kind of extermination was tricky. When a Drude takes on the dreamer’s form, the dreamer believes that the Drude is him. Right now, Tyler had a double perspective, seeing himself standing mostly naked in the boardroom and also seeing the boardroom through the Drude’s eyes. The easy route—blasting the Drude into oblivion—wouldn’t work in this situation. You’re not supposed to die in your dreams, and watching yourself get blown away can be more than a little traumatic. I wasn’t sure Tyler had been awake when I explained about the gun.
The Drude, fiddling nervously with a projector, hadn’t seen me. I holstered my pistol and slipped into a seat to look as though I belonged there. No matter that I wasn’t part of the matching set of old guys; the Drude didn’t notice. Like I said, dreams have their own logic.
“Start your presentation, Tyler,” the Bosses said in unison.
“I—I’m sorry,” said the Drude. “There’s a problem with the projector.” Out in the real world, the dreaming Tyler groaned.
The Bosses booed and threw paper airplanes at him. Tyler dodged, teetering on his heels and looking like he was going to cry.
It was clear how this Drude operated. The demon tormented Tyler through humiliation—the old “I’m naked and unprepared” dream. (As for the heels, I didn’t want to know where in my client’s psyche that fashion choice originated.) The more Tyler writhed with embarrassment and humiliation, the better meal the Drude was getting, feeding off his feelings.
That gave me an idea.
“Of course, it’s awfully hot in here,” I whispered to the Boss sitting beside me. One Boss was all it took. He pulled out a handkerchief to mop his forehead. The others followed him, using identical handkerchiefs. They all loosened their ties and unbuttoned their top buttons. A minute later, they’d taken off their suit jackets and hung them on the backs of their chairs.
That’s what I was waiting for.
Before the Drude could figure out what I was doing, I jumped up and snatched the nearest suit jacket. I ran to the front of the room and draped the jacket over Tyler’s shoulders. No more half-naked humiliation. The real Tyler, asleep in his bed, sighed with relief.
The dream-Tyler wavered and grew semi-transparent, the Drude’s true features becoming visible through the mask of Tyler’s face. Yellow eyes narrowed, a forked tongue slithered out. I’d just cut off its food supply, making this one seriously pissed-off demon.
I drew my pistol.
The Drude yowled its rage, and the last wisp of illusion disappeared. In the dream-Tyler’s place stood a fanged, clawed, scaly horror eight feet tall. Teeth gnashing, it charged me. I stepped back, bringing up the pistol and holding it steady with both hands. I fired, but the Drude leapt into the air, and I missed.
The Drude leapt again, spinning around and lashing its razor-tipped tail. I ducked, but not fast enough. The barb sliced into my cheek. Damn, that stung. At least it hadn’t caught my neck.
Smelling blood, the Drude went crazy. It came at me in a tornado of claws, teeth, and whipping tail. I dropped to a crouch, braced my arms, and fired.
Bull’s-eye. The bronze bullet tore through the Drude, which disintegrated into a cloud of sulfurous smoke and the fast-fading echo of a scream.
I let myself fall back and sat on the floor, breathing hard. I touched my slashed cheek; it was sticky with blood.
Around the conference table, the Bosses applauded politely.
I stood, wanting to finish the job and get out of here. I turned on the InDetect and opened the door the Drude had come through. It now opened on a brick wall, which I scanned with the InDetect. Silence. No more Drudes lurking back there. I crossed the room to the other door. No Drudes out there, either. I did one more sweep of the conference room, but Tyler’s dreamscape was clean. I’d expected that; humiliation dreams are usually caused by a single Drude. But it was a good thing Tyler called me before his fear and anxiety attracted more demons. The bigger the pod of Drudes infesting your dreams, the more terrifying your nightmares.
I went to check my watch, then remembered it was gone. Pity. I had no way of knowing how long I’d been inside Tyler’s dream. Watch or no watch, it was time to get out of there. I holstered my pistol and headed for dream portal that shimmered in a corner of the room.
“Wait!” said one of the Bosses. “What about Tyler’s presentation?”
“It was brilliant, of course,” I said. “You all agree Tyler deserves a raise. And a promotion.”
“Of course!” the Bosses exclaimed in unison. They slapped each other’s backs.
My suggestion wouldn’t have any effect on Tyler’s waking life. But he’d emerge from this dream feeling elated. It’s always a good idea to leave a client with sweet-dream memories after a Drude extermination. A happy client is a paying client, after all.
Again, I turned toward the dream portal. I’d mouthed no more than the password’s first syllable when the floor shook, hard, skewing the oil paintings and knocking me to the floor. Another jolt followed, this one even more intense.
A leather chair rolled past. I pushed myself onto my knees and drew my gun. The Bosses had vanished. The next shock toppled over two of their vacated chairs. The conference room went dim as something loomed in front of the windows, as if a mountain had suddenly erupted there.
“Of course,” I shouted, “such things can’t happen.”
Of course didn’t work this time. The shape grew larger.
A laugh whispered through the room, growing in volume and voices until it sounded like the roaring of a stadium-sized crowd.
Just like the laughter in my own dream yesterday.
The shape came into focus. A huge, slimy blue face peered in through the windows, eyes flickering with fire. It was Difethwr, fifty times its normal size—like the Hellion had been working out with Godzilla’s personal trainer.
I aimed my pistol at the expanse between its eyes, but the weapon slid from my hand and thunked on the floor. The demon mark on my right forearm flared with burning pain, and I doubled over, clutching the arm to my chest. The mark made that arm—my fighting arm—powerless agains
t the Hellion.
But I’d claimed the bond, damn it. I was supposed to be in control.
Nobody told my arm that. It ached and burned and was as useless as a slab of meat.
The laughter tapered to a chuckle.
I looked up. “You have no business here, Hellion.” The words came out in gasps.
“Thou art bound to us, daughter of Ceridwen.” The thing’s voice sounded like many distinct voices, from low rumbles to high-pitched screeches, speaking not quite in unison. “Wherever thou art, there may we also be.”
“I sent you to Hell. I expect you to stay there.”
Another laugh shook the room. “Where we are, there Hell is also. This is Hell, shapeshifter.”
I tried to conjure the Sword of Saint Michael, the only weapon that could kill a Hellion. If I could pull the sword into Tyler’s dream, I could end this. I closed my eyes and concentrated, curling the fingers of my left hand around the sword’s imagined grip, hefting it, feeling its weight. I pictured the blade bursting into flame at the Hellion’s presence. At the thought of flames, my demon mark’s scorching agony yanked me back to the here and now. My nostrils filled with the stench of my own flesh burning.
The sword would not come to me. I could not fight the Destroyer here.
Hunched over, I craned my neck to look up at the massive demon. “What do you want?”
Difethwr smiled, showing swordlike teeth. Flames jetted from its eyes and licked at the windows.
“Only to show how thy power grows thin. Foolish, thou hast believed thou couldst command us. Us, when we are legion!”
The pain in my arm blazed like smoldering coals stuffed under my skin. Gasping, dizzy with the effort, I forced myself to stand up straight. Thin or otherwise, I had power over this Hellion. My right arm hanging limp at my side, I pointed at the demon with my left.
“Out of my sight, Difethwr. Leave Tyler’s dreamscape and never return.”
The Hellion winced and shrank by a tenth of its inflated size. Its eye-flames fell back and died to a glow, but its expression remained amused. “We go. We have no interest in the dreams of this puny human. But know this, daughter of Ceridwen, the time of thy race is passing.” Difethwr was leaving now, its voice growing faint, its image wavering. “A new order rises. The Morfran emerges, and Uffern overspills its boundaries. The Brenin steps forward. Already it has begun, as thou hast witnessed.”
As I’d witnessed? “Wait! What are you talking about?”
The Hellion gave no answer. Its face wavered like a reflection on water, then rippled away to nothingness.
I SAT BY TYLER’S BED, WAITING FOR HIM TO WAKE UP. HE LAY on his stomach, head turned toward me. He breathed through his mouth, his face relaxed. I could almost picture Tyler as his mother must have seen him, thirty-some-odd years before, a baby sleeping peacefully in his crib. Before she dropped him on his head.
I was imagining the infant Tyler because I was trying not to think about what Difethwr had said. Not until I could talk it over with Aunt Mab—as I should have done months ago. I needed Mab’s perspective; it was fruitless to try to figure things out on my own.
But I couldn’t help it. For the hundredth time since I’d come back through the dream portal, I replayed what Difethwr had said. That it remained in Hell, even as it ran rampant through other people’s dreamscapes. That some kind of new order was taking over. Those Welsh-sounding words I didn’t understand. Morfran. Uffern. Brenin meant “king,” I thought, but I wasn’t sure. Despite all those summers in Wales, my Welsh didn’t go much beyond “Hello, where is the train station, please?” But Mab would know what it all meant.
Tyler murmured and turned over; the sleeping pill was wearing off. I put my boot against the bed and gave it a nudge, then another. Normally I let clients wake up on their own, but Tyler was close enough, and I needed to contact Mab. I kept nudging, until I was shaking the bed hard enough to register on the Richter scale.
“Whaaa—?” Tyler snorted and sat up, wide-eyed. The eyes narrowed as they focused on me. “What’d you do that for? That was the first good sleep I’ve had in weeks.”
“You, um, seemed restless.” Yeah, that’s how I’d play it. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t having another nightmare.”
“Well, I wasn’t. So go away.” He tried to flop over on his side.
“Since you’re awake,” I said brightly, as I jumped out of the chair and snapped on the overhead light, “I’ve got a few papers for you to sign. Strictly routine stuff. Then I’ll get out of here and you can sleep until noon.”
He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. But he struggled back to a sitting position and heaved a put-upon sigh. “Okay. It’s weird having you sit in my bedroom while I sleep.”
It couldn’t be as weird as having me run around in his dreams, but I let it go. Tyler signed my standard forms: an acknowledgment I’d performed the agreed-upon service and another that he’d received post-extermination instructions. Then he wrote out my check. I filed everything away in my bag.
“Are we done?” His voice was sharp with irritation. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
“In a minute. What do you remember about your dreams tonight?”
He smiled. “I had a good dream. The board of directors voted to give me a promotion.”
“Anything else?”
He scrunched up his face in an effort to remember. “It started off like one of those nightmares I told you about. When I have to give a presentation and I show up nake—um, I mean unprepared. But it changed. Things got kind of fuzzy. Before I knew it, the presentation was over and everyone was congratulating me.”
“Then what?”
He considered, then shook his head. “That’s all. I don’t remember any other dreams. Just wonderful, peaceful blankness.”
Good. “Which you’d like to get back to now, I know. Fair enough. Pay attention to those instructions I gave you. Avoid spicy foods and sugar and take it easy for a few days.”
He nodded and lay down again, pulling the covers up to his chin as I turned off the bedroom light.
I closed the door to his condo and gave it a tug to make sure it was locked. Then I headed down the stairs. From Tyler’s perspective, tonight had been nothing more than a routine Drude extermination. Tyler hadn’t seen the Hellion that invaded his dreamscape. That was something. But Difethwr shouldn’t have been there at all. I still didn’t understand how it was getting into dreams.
But I would, I thought, leaving the stairwell and crossing the lobby. I pulled open the front door and stepped out into the cold, crystalline night. I hurried down the street toward where I’d parked the Jag. Finally, I was going to talk to Mab.
10
THE NEW NIGHT DOORMAN, A ZOMBIE, WAS ON DUTY. HE was average height and something more than average weight. The brass buttons on his uniform looked ready to pop at the next deep breath. As I walked through the doorway, he stashed a bag of potato chips in his desk.
I crossed the lobby, my boots clicking on the marble floor. “Hi,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Vicky. I live on the fifth floor.”
Fingerprints smudged his horn-rimmed glasses. He wiped his hand on his jacket before he shook mine. “Victory Vaughn. Five-G, right? You room with Juliet Capulet?”
“That’s me.”
He beamed. “I’m Gary. It’s my first night. I’ve been studying the tenant list. When someone comes in and asks for you, I don’t want to squint at the list until I find your name. That would look bad, wouldn’t it? Unprofessional.”
“You seem to have it nailed already.”
“Oh, no. Not yet. I remembered you because you have an interesting name. And an interesting roommate. Imagine—the Juliet Capulet. I haven’t seen her yet, but I have a million questions for that young lady. I taught English at Boston College before the plague.”
Oh, boy. “Juliet will enjoy talking Shakespeare with you.” Maybe it would get me off the hook from playing her dumb let’s-quote-Shakespeare game.
“I must admit, however, I’ve always felt Romeo and Juliet to be the most overrated of the Bard’s plays. I hope that won’t offend her.”
“Gary, Juliet is going to love you.”
If a zombie could blush, the new doorman would have. To cover, he aimed for a worldly chuckle that came off more like a coughing fit. “Alas, not as she loved Romeo, I fear.”
“No, not like that.” He blinked at me through his smudged glasses, looking crestfallen. “Believe me, Gary, that’s a good thing.” Vampires didn’t suck zombies dry.
JULIET WAS OUT. NOTHING STRANGE ABOUT THAT; THIS WAS her hunting time. What was odd was the note she’d left me on the kitchen table: Don’t wait up. J. Since when had I ever waited up for my roommate?
Maybe she felt bad because she really did think she woke me up yesterday. Doubtful. Vampires never felt bad about their actions. More likely, she was warning me to stay out of the living room if I heard any weird chants in the middle of the night.
If that had even happened.
I pushed Juliet from my thoughts and got ready for bed. Tonight, I took my warm bath before I climbed into bed. It helped. Relaxing, I let my mind go blank. The room dissolved around me, and I floated in a vast, calm sea of darkness. Everything was quiet, gentle, warm. No bitter cold tonight. For a while, I let myself float. No point in waking myself up trying to place a dream-phone call before I was ready. Besides, it felt so good to rest.
I don’t know how far I dipped into sleep. Time seemed suspended. Eventually, I thought about Mab—lazily at first, then with more focus. All Cerddorion have a pair of colors unique to the individual. To call someone on the dream phone, you think of that person and summon their colors. At the other end, they see your colors, so they know who’s calling. I imagined my aunt, picturing her where I always think of her, seated in her wing chair by the library fireplace. She wore a baggy gray cardigan over a black dress; her short, gray hair was swept back from her face. It felt good to see her there. Comforting. Like home. I tinged the image of my aunt with her colors of blue and silver.
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