Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1)

by Camille Peters

  “Perhaps.” His serious gaze met mine. “Listen to me: you’re in danger.”

  Fear prickled my skin. “In danger? From what?”

  “There’s an investigation currently occurring in the Dream World. If the Investigations Team discovers what I did in that tree—”

  “What did you find?” I asked again, but he shook his head, dismissing my question.

  “I strongly advise you not to perform any magic for a while, at least until the investigation dies down. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Why did he feel the need to pretend to care? He had no reason to, not when we’d only just met. I stubbornly lifted my chin. “Until you earn my trust, I have no reason to listen to you. Besides, I have nothing to hide from the Investigations Team; I had nothing to do with the dream dust theft.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise before his look became suspicious. “How do you know about that?”

  I bit my lip. I’d already given away too many secrets. His frown deepened at my silence, as did the intensity of his perusal. I shifted beneath his gaze, wanting nothing more than to escape. I struggled against the strange force keeping me here until I successfully broke away, granting me the opportunity I was desperate for.

  I slowly backed away. “I must go.”

  But before I could leave, his fingers grazed my arm. Heat rippled over me from that single touch. I stared at where his hand rested before shyly peeking up at him. His eyes were wide as he stared unblinking at where his hand rested on my arm before he slowly lifted his own gaze.

  “If you ever find yourself in the Dream World, come find me. I’ll help you.” He slowly released me, yet he made no move to step away, as if he couldn’t make himself leave. “My life just got a lot more complicated. Of everyone it could have been, for it to be you…”

  “You keep acting as if you know me,” I said. “What do you know about me?”

  He didn’t answer, nor did he cease looking at me. Despite his recent words acting as if our acquaintanceship was a great inconvenience, he didn’t look the least bit put out. Instead his eyes were bright at the prospect of embarking on a great adventure…a feeling I begrudgingly shared. This strange draw between us was just another mystery for me to try to unravel. I sighed wearily. I was tired of riddles, especially when everything up until this point in my life had already been one giant puzzle.

  “What’s happening, Darius?”

  “Later,” he promised, and after giving my hand a reassuring squeeze he released me before disappearing with a loud crack, leaving me staring after him, as confused as ever.

  Chapter 7

  Shortly after I’d returned from my dream-watching excursion and the strange interaction with Nightmare Darius which had followed, Stardust flew through the window with a stack of worn books balanced on her body. She dumped them on my bed of pillows.

  “I’ve brought loads of information to begin our investigation.” She sifted through the pile. “We should start with The Magical Properties of Dreams, which will hopefully help us understand not only why you can’t receive dreams, but more importantly how you can see others’. I also brought the classic Magical History, which is filled to the brim with every magical fact you’ll ever need to know. I must warn you, though, it’s a bit dry; we’ll only crack it open in the most dire of need. And we should probably peruse Mortal Myths.” She held up a surprisingly slim volume. “We can use this to investigate your quirks, although I’m afraid many of them may be impossible to decipher.” She finally noticed my lack of response and slowly lowered Dreamers’ Essential Book of Legends. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like the books I brought?”

  My thoughts had drifted back to Nightmare Darius and whether or not he was a friend or foe. I stifled a yawn and tried to focus my attention back on Stardust. “My apologies, I’m simply tired.”

  “Tired or bored?” Stardust’s tone was dangerous.

  “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Interesting.” Stardust rapidly flipped through the pages of Mortal Myths. “Is insomnia usually a problem for you?”

  I tugged the book away from her in order to obtain her full attention. “I had my first dream last night.”

  Stardust frowned, skeptical. “Are you sure it was yours?”

  “Of course. It was more vivid than any nightmare I’ve ever experienced when viewing others’.” I shuddered at the memory, as if a few remnant spiders had escaped to tiptoe across my skin.

  “Was anyone in the room when you woke up?”

  “A man floated in that corner.” I pointed and Stardust zipped over to investigate. “I also saw him during my dream; it looked like he was sewing something.”

  “He was weaving your nightmare. Was he alone?”

  I nodded. She tsked and shook her head.

  “As I suspected, which means that Nightmare performed an illegal Weaving. Typical. Did he do anything suspicious while he was here?”

  My fists tightened. “He stole my bottled dream.”

  Stardust gasped. “It’s gone? Unfortunately, it’ll probably be impossible to get back. The best we can hope for is that the Nightmare doesn’t figure out it’s a dream, or worse, hand it directly to the Nightmare Council. Your powers are too unique to share with them.”

  “Who are the Nightmare Council?”

  “The ones in charge of the Nightmare Realm,” Stardust said. “It’s their job to ensure all Nightmares use their powers within the bounds of magical law, so it’s surprising they allowed that Nightmare to weave alone last night, which makes me suspect he was sent by the Council specifically.”

  That was exactly what he’d told the Investigations Team, meaning I hadn’t avoided detection after all. My heart pounded in my ears. First the Investigations Team and now this? “Will the Nightmare Council do anything to me?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “The fact they sent one of their cronies to investigate suggests they connected you to the strong magical burst that occurred when you captured that dream. But if they suspected you were behind it, why weave a nightmare for you?” She tapped her purple crayon on the pages of her notebook, a thoughtful frown tugging at her mouth. “That Nightmare must have wanted to see if you could receive a dream, as that would determine whether or not you were Mortal. I’d bet my morphing powers he was the same Nightmare I spotted last night; he must have been waiting for you to fall asleep.”

  My heart sank as she shared each suspicion, confirming I’d been right not to trust Darius. It wasn’t until this moment that I realized just how much I’d been wanting to.

  Stardust morphed into a magnifying glass and began scouring the room, carefully combing the walls, poking in the dusty corners, and examining around my piles of dirty laundry. When that yielded no results, she flew to the ceiling and paused at the beam Nightmare Darius had clung to the night before.

  “Aha! Proof.”

  She carefully scooped something up and flew down to triumphantly showcase her findings. Mossy green dust glistened in her grip. I didn’t even need to examine it to recognize it as the same dust she had discovered yesterday. She compared the two side by side.

  “Completely identical. I knew it was the same Nightmare.” She pulled a tiny bottle from her body and carefully slid the dust inside before corking it shut. “Now all that remains is to figure out who this Nightmare is. I should be able to track him down by sneaking a peek at the Weavers’ files and conducting a magical comparison, although accessing the Nightmare files may be a bit tricky.”

  “There’s no need to investigate; I already know who he is.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You do? How?”

  I hesitated, unsure how she’d respond to the fact that not only had this very nightmare and I had carried on an entire conversation, but he’d protected me from the Investigations Team…or at least had pretended to. “He and I met this morning—”

  Thump. Stardust’s notebook tumbled to the floor, her mouth agape as she stared at me in horror. “What?”r />
  “He and I—”

  “I heard you the first time,” she snapped, her body beginning to redden. “What I’m questioning are not your words but your foolishness, which landed you in the horrible situation you’ve just so casually disclosed. What do you mean you and the Nightmare talked? How could you do such a thing with our prime suspect? If you told him anything, Eden…”

  “I didn’t,” I said hastily. “We only—”

  “Because just in case I didn’t make it clear before, Nightmares are evil.”

  I frowned. “Evil seems a bit harsh…he didn’t seem that bad.” Suspicious, certainly, and likely untrustworthy. But evil? If that were really true, why had I been so drawn to him?

  “If he didn’t seem that bad, it’s simply because he was trying to trick you.” She gave me a rather sharp glare. “Now what did you tell him?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “He was looking into this morning’s strange magical outburst and—” I regretted the admission the moment I made it, for Stardust’s eyes immediately narrowed.

  “What magical outburst?”

  I groaned and pattered to my bag to pull out the dream I’d bottled this morning. Stardust immediately recognized it. She gasped. “You went dream watching this morning? Are you crazy?”

  “I go every morning,” I said heatedly. “Besides, I got bored waiting for you.” Not to mention I hadn't been able to stay in my shadowy room any longer, not with the memory of last night’s nightmare entangling me like the spiderwebs that had filled it.

  “But if that Nightmare or someone else from the Council saw you…who knows what they would do if they learned about your powers.”

  “I don’t think he did.” I chose to remain silent about the fact that he’d found something in my dream-watching tree. “Although he interrogated me, he also seemed keen on protecting me. He told me to hide and even covered for me when the Investigations Team came.”

  Stardust groaned. “And now the Investigations Team is after you? This just keeps getting worse.” She took a deep breath, and some of her crimson color began to fade as she slowly regained control over her temper. “Now listen to me: no matter how it appeared, I can assure you the Nightmare wasn’t protecting you.”

  My heart sank, the part of me that still wanted to believe he might have been, despite the evidence to the contrary. “Are you sure? But he—”

  “Completely,” she said. “The question that remains is: what does he hope to accomplish by such a ruse? I wonder if it’s a coincidence you received your first dream after all of this started happening. If that Nightmare was able to successfully give you one, how come you don’t have a permanent Weaver?”

  “Maybe I’ve simply forgotten all of my dreams until now. That’s what Mother always tells me.”

  “Impossible,” Stardust said. “Although Mortals easily forget dreams if the Weaver is mediocre, you’d surely have seen your own floating around if you’d ever had any. There’s something more to this. I need to gather more information…and you must promise me not to be so reckless with your powers in the future. We can’t allow either the Investigations Team or that Nightmare to learn about your ability to see dreams. If they did, the Council could become involved and take away your magic. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then for the time being, you mustn’t perform any more magic.”

  “No more magic?” It was as if she’d suggested I cut off a limb.

  “Don’t give me that incredulous look. If the Nightmare Council sent someone to investigate you once, they’ll definitely do so again, which means you need to be extra careful. No more viewing dreams, no more performing magic, and keep that bottled dream and your journals with you at all times.”

  “Okay, okay, I get the idea. No more magic or dream-watching.” Breathing heavily, I shoved my dream jar back into my bag and picked up The Building Blocks of Magic: A Beginner’s Foundation, opening it at random and ducking behind it.

  It took a moment before my angry breaths settled enough that I could appreciate the fact that after all these years, I finally had a real magic book in my possession. I began reading eagerly, but rather than a simple step-by-step guide, it was full of complex diagrams and tables bursting with information, all written in cryptic language I couldn’t even pretend to understand. I flipped to the beginning to see if that was any better, but it appeared just as confusing.

  I held the book at arms length, appalled. “This is considered basic?”

  Stardust peeked above her book and promptly darted over to wrench the book away. “Weren’t you even listening to my lecture on the importance of refraining from magic while the Nightmare Council is investigating you?” She picked up a fat book from her teetering pile and shoved it into my arms. “Study this instead while I brush up on my Mortal facts.” She reburied her nose in Mortal Myths.

  I scowled. I’d spent years trying to track down a magic book to develop my powers, and right when I’d gotten my hands on one I couldn’t even study from it, thanks to this tyrannical cloud. I mumbled a few choice curses under my breath but obediently began to read the large tome, titled Magical History.

  Time slowed as I spent the morning reading in tedious detail the history of Weavers and their world. I discovered the first Dreamers were born from falling stars. In the beginning, the Dream and Nightmare Realms were united, until their differing views concerning the types of dreams they should create for Mortals caused a rift that led to their permanent split into their now separate realms.

  After reading a bit about the layout of the Dream World—how each section of the Dream World corresponded with the section of Earth over which it resided, and that Weavers created dreams for the Mortals in their region—I yawned and turned to the next chapter, which discussed the properties of dream dust, the magical substance that allowed Weavers to use their powers. I skimmed this section, and in the thirty-plus rambling pages of stuffy academic language, I managed to glean that dream dust was the Dream World’s currency that came only from dreams, used not only for purchases but to perform all magic; in return, Weavers earned dream dust based on the strength of their magical performance.

  My brow puckered. As interesting as that information was, it didn’t quite make sense. If dream dust was required to perform all magic, then how had I been able to see others’ dreams without it? I voiced my question out loud, and Stardust tore herself away from her current studies with great reluctance to answer.

  “While dream dust is required to perform magic, many Weavers also have an extra, innate ability unique to them that they can access even without dream dust.” With that, she returned to her book and I resumed my own studies.

  Though I eagerly read the entire section about Dreamers, I skipped over the section about Nightmares, the magical creatures who dealt with the darker—yet apparently necessary—forms of magic, such as night and storms. I wanted to avoid thinking about Nightmare Darius, especially his creepy spider dream, but the task was proving quite difficult with how frequently he invaded my thoughts, particularly the intense way he’d looked at me and the feeling that had come from his touch.

  In the following chapter, “Dream Weaving,” I paused at an illustration of two Weavers—one bright and smiling, the other dark and sinister—floating in the air above a sleeping child. The child’s dream faded into a dusty substance and twirled towards the smiling Dreamer, while the other watched with a scowl. I leaned closer to read the caption: Dream Weaving: the source of all dream dust.

  “Stardust, look at this.” I tilted the book towards her and she reluctantly looked up from Mortal Quirks: Horrors from Lives Devoid of Magic. “There are two Weavers in this picture.”

  “Naturally,” she said. “Weavings are a competition of skills to create the strongest dream.”

  I lightly traced the swirls of dream dust soaring towards the Dreamer’s locket. Now that she mentioned it, every villager I’d spied on had a sporadic pattern between drea
ms and nightmares. “So whoever has their dream viewed by the Mortal receives the dream dust?”

  “Exactly. Having only one winner for each Weaving is what motivates Dreamers and Nightmares to create the best dreams they can in order to increase their powers.”

  I frowned. “But occasionally I see two dreams following a villager. How could that be if there’s only one winner?”

  Stardust’s usual know-it-all expression became perplexed. “Two dreams? I suppose that’s possible…considering Mortals are given more than one dream a night once they grow older.” She swelled up, looking rather defensive. “But considering you’re the only Weaver I’ve heard of with such abilities, it’s no wonder it’s not common knowledge amongst Weavers.” She muttered darkly to herself as she returned to her book.

  I leaned on my elbow and flipped through Magical History, only pausing at an illustration of lockets bursting with dream dust. The picture’s caption said these were called dream lockets, an enchanted storage which protected a Weaver’s magic. One looked uncannily similar to the one Mother always wore around her neck.

  “This dream locket almost looks exactly like Mother’s.”

  Thud. Stardust’s book toppled to the floor. “Your Mother has a dream locket?” At my nod, Stardust morphed into her notebook and began scribbling furiously. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Only Weavers—both Dreamers and Nightmares—possess dream lockets. But if your Mother is a Weaver, what is she doing on Earth? I’ve been suspicious of her ever since you let slip you stole some of her magic, but now I can’t rest until she’s been investigated further.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” I asked. “Mother would see you if you tried getting a closer look at her locket, and if she has any other secrets they’d be hidden inside her study. I’ve tried sneaking in countless times, but I can never get past the lock, and I’ve turned this house upside down searching for the key.”

  Stardust smirked pompously. “That was before you had me, a first class detective; stealth is one of my most coveted traits. Leave it to me to get us inside that study. I’m sure it’s just bursting with clues.” She wriggled in anticipation.