“You must let me.”
“No.” Aidan studied his old teacher with wide eyes.
Pale skin, pure white hair, and pupils so wide and dark they swallowed the whites of his eyes altogether made the mentor he’d known look like a corpse of the vital man he once was.
“If you don’t allow me to fix what I’ve done,” Sheron rasped, “We will all die, including your precious Dreamer.”
Aidan stilled, his gaze narrowing as a low rumble of sound permeated the soles of his feet and spread upward through his bones. “What the hell…?”
“If you let me proceed”—Sheron lifted his chin in silent challenge—“I will tell you what you came here to learn.”
Growling out a low breath and knowing he didn’t have time to argue, Aidan nodded and stepped back, withdrawing his blade. The Elder immediately spun about and worked furiously at the console, eventually entering a combination of keystrokes that turned the flashing lights solid, then blue, and finally off.
Resting his palms on the edge, Sheron visibly collapsed with relief. “You don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to make it to the lake before your absence is noted.”
“Explain,” Aidan ordered curtly.
“You want to cross over.” Sheron reached back and lifted his hood, once again hiding behind the veil of shadows. “Your increasing dissatisfaction has been obvious to us for the last few decades, and your infatuation with the Dreamer has been whispered about for weeks. Your actions today can mean only one thing—you want to be with her rather than do your duty here.”
Lifting his arm, Aidan slipped his glaive into the scabbard that crossed his back. He released a deep breath, wondering if Sheron suspected the true reason he wished to leave. Without the benefit of reading the Elder’s facial expressions, there was no way for him to know. The toneless, emotionless voice revealed nothing. “What do I have to do?”
“Search your conscience. You are our best warrior. Your loss will change the balance between Guardians and Nightmares considerably. Morale will plummet. A selfish choice, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fuck you.” Aidan crossed his arms. “I have given more than enough. I refuse to feel guilt for wanting something for myself. You hold no hesitation in sucking me dry, yet I’m selfish?”
The quick rise and fall of Sheron’s chest was the only sign that he’d struck a chord.
“You will have to travel past the Gateway,” the Elder rasped. “Beyond the rise you’ll find a lake.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.” Aidan felt his mentor’s smile.
“Why am I not surprised? You were always overly curious.”
“Go on. I don’t have time to reminisce.”
“When you get to the lake, dive beneath the surface. You’ll see light emanating from a cave. There is a grotto there, tended by two Elders.”
“What are they doing down there?”
Sheron held out both hands, palms parallel. “In the space between waking and dreaming, there is the place where some humans come by force. They hover here, more awake than asleep, but not cognizant enough to comprehend. Once we thought the Key would come to us this way. Now we simply guard them from coming too far into this conduit. Nightmares are predators. They would use that tenuous tie if they could.”
Aidan frowned, and then his eyes widened. “Hypnosis!”
“Yes.” Sheron nodded his approval. “That is what the Dreamers call it.”
“Is that how we entered here to begin with?”
“No.”
Something in the Elder’s tone gave him pause. “There is more than one way to make the journey?”
“There is only one way that will allow a lone Guardian to make the journey,” came the evasive reply.
“How can I trust you to tell me the truth?”
“How can I trust you not to kill me now that you know?”
There had been occasions when he’d had to act based on faulty or suspect intel, but Aidan never liked it. This time he hated it. If he was sent in the wrong direction…
He caught the Elder by the elbow. “You’re coming with me.”
“You can’t—”
“Yes. I can.” He dragged him out of the room and down the hall, making a quick stop at the private Elder library.
“What are you doing?” Sheron snapped, when Aidan went straight to the historical volumes that were omitted from the entirely electronic public Hall of Knowledge.
“Taking answers with me.” His fingertips drifted over the spines until he reached the spot where he should have found the text chronicling the two years preceding and directly following their discovery of this conduit. “Where is it?”
“It was lost.”
“Bullshit.”
“It is lost to me,” Sheron said dryly. “I have no idea where it is.”
Aidan reached up, gripped the hilt of his sword, and withdrew it with quiet deliberation. “I need you alive, but I don’t need you healthy.”
“You throw aside centuries of living with Guardians who admire and respect you for a few hours spent with a Dreamer?”
“You allowed my discontent to fester with your secrets.” Aidan pressed the tip of his blade into Sheron’s chest. “Now tell me, Master, where did the Elders hide the volume I seek?”
“Never. You may have abandoned your people, but I will not.”
“As you wish.” Aidan grabbed Sheron, and dragged him out into the hall and back toward the control room.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to bang on the console a bit, get those lights flashing and alarms ringing. Then we’ll head toward the lake.”
“You cannot do that!” Sheron began to struggle, his eyes wide. “You will destroy everything.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said I abandoned my people. What do I care if you all blow up like a supernova or whatever the hell it is that’s going to happen? I’ll be on Earth with my Dreamer.”
“Damn you.”
Aidan’s brows rose. “What’ll it be?”
Sheron inhaled harshly, then he gestured back at the library with an impatient jerk of his hand. Once returned to the vast room, the Elder moved to a case of ancient medical texts and withdrew several, exposing a small door behind them, which, when opened, revealed the volume Aidan sought.
Collecting it from Sheron’s outstretched hand, Aidan slipped it into the pouch strapped to his thigh and sealed it. “Right. Let’s go.”
Together they walked out to the haiden, where he sent out a low whistle that rose and fell in deliberate rhythm. A moment later, the same sound was returned to him. Connor would follow at a discreet distance.
“There are more than one of you,” Sheron said flatly.
“Nope. Just me.” Aidan reached the outer courtyard and leaped into the upper Twilight, pulling the struggling Sheron behind him. Gliding rapidly through the mist, he put every ounce of power he had into achieving the fastest possible speed.
The sky was beginning to darken when they reached the lake. Aidan dived straight down, into the icy water that didn’t heat even though he wished it to. Beside him, Sheron stilled, allowing them to slice through like a blade. It took a moment to find the grotto, and then they emerged, gasping.
Aidan’s first impression was of moss-covered black rock, but a closer inspection showed there was no subterfuge here. As he crawled up over a shallow ledge, he pulled Sheron out of the water after him, his gaze moving swiftly over the circular console manned by one very startled Elder-in-training. At a nearby desk, another trainee leaped to his feet. Above their heads, scenes flashed like movies, glimpses into the open minds of thousands of hypnotized people.
He stood, his hostage dripping, and moved to the other men with rapid, near running strides. Aidan shoved Sheron into the man at the desk, effectively knocking them out of the way, freeing his arm to swing forward with punishing force.
The sickening crack of his fist to the jaw of the trainee at the
console was loud and echoed, causing the other to cry out and lunge at him. A quick crouch and upward thrust of his body threw the man back and into the rock wall, where he was rendered as unconscious as his partner.
Rolling his shoulders, Aidan straightened his tunic and caught Sheron with a steely glare. “Get to work.”
Unfazed, the Elder moved to the console and sat in a metallic swiveling chair that was anchored to the stone floor. “We have to catch a Medium when they are at their deepest state. You will attach yourself to their subconscious, and ride the slipstream into their plane of existence. Once there, the temporal disturbance created by your appearance should cause a…hiccup in time. A brief pause that will allow you to leave the area undetected. That is the theory, anyway.”
“The theory?” Aidan arched a brow. “That’s the best you can do?”
“It is not as if I have done it myself,” Sheron pointed out.
Nodding grimly, Aidan asked, “Is there any way to choose a Medium who is near to her?” If he arrived on the other side of her world, it could be days before he reached her. He would not get to her before she fell asleep again. The thought of Lyssa dealing with the banging at the door and sinister-minded cajoling infuriated him and aroused possessive feelings he never knew he was capable of.
“Where is your lauded patience, Captain?”
“Running out,” Aidan warned.
Sheron shook his head in silent chastisement. “Lucky for you, the Dreamer you want lives in an area of eccentrics. There is a high concentration of Mediums in California. Understand: once you go, there is no known way to return.”
“Quit talking, and do it.”
Aidan began to pace, his hands clasped at his lower back, his gaze wandering. Scattered across the nearby desktop were loose-leaf papers and open-faced books. He was about to turn away when an odd glare caught his eye. Wedged beneath the corner was a slim volume boasting a jeweled cover that betrayed its position. A quick glance at Sheron showed the Elder occupied and unaware.
Summoning the book, Aidan flipped through it silently, recognizing the handwritten language of the Ancients. He was rusty, but was able to make out enough words to know the book was one he wanted to take with him. One page in particular gave him pause, the reference to “pausing abbreviated space” one of vast interest. Collecting a makeshift bookmark from the desk, Aidan saved the page and slipped the volume into his waistband where his tunic could hide it from view.
“Here,” Sheron murmured. “You can catch this stream.” He swiveled and set both hands on his knees. With his cowl thrown back, and his white hair wet and sticking out in all directions, he was an odd sight. But his facial features were familiar, despite their lack of coloring. The sight of them reminded Aidan of the time when they had been mentor and student, and he had been an idealistic youth with great hope for the future. That boy could never have foreseen this event.
“I beg you to reconsider, Captain. You are not the first Guardian to grow an unnatural attachment to a Dreamer. It can be resolved with time.”
For a moment Aidan paused, giving his heart and mind a last chance to object.
In the end, he knew he was making the right decision. He hoped he had in his possession the secrets he’d been searching for. Either he would discover that the Elders were correct and he could resume his fight with renewed determination, or he would find out they weren’t, in which case he could enlighten the others. He would be helping his people however he looked at it. He wanted to believe in the Elders, he truly did, but Aidan saw no reason for them to hide information that wasn’t incriminating in some way.
And then there was Lyssa, a sweet, wonderful woman who didn’t deserve to be dragged into this struggle. A woman who’d already suffered a lifetime of sickness and discomfort because of her dreams.
But what would he find in her plane? A world he knew only from dreams and a lover who would not remember him.
But the possibilities…the chance to be with Lyssa and explore the tentative bond they shared…to touch her, kiss her, make love to her for real. Skin to skin. The thought was an oasis in an endless existence that had long been as barren as the desert.
“You do not have to do something so drastic,” Sheron said in a low, urgent tone.
“Yes,” Aidan said with a wry smile. “I do.”
Sheron watched Captain Cross move beyond the console to the various slipstreams that formed pillars of lights connecting the floor to the cavern roof. Without hesitation, Cross stepped into the stream he’d been directed to and vanished, gliding into the semidream state of the chosen Medium with an expertise born of eons of practice.
When Sheron was alone, he entered a series of keystrokes and reported, “Cross is gone.”
“You did well, Sheron,” echoed the collective voice of the other Elders. “Perfectly executed.”
Tilting his head in acknowledgment of the praise, he moved to assist the fallen trainees. As he lowered to a crouch, his gaze moved to the nearby desk. “He took the book.”
The feeling of satisfaction was tangible.
“Excellent.”
He kept the knowledge about the other volume to himself.
Chapter 6
Aidan pushed himself up from the coarse carpet where he sprawled, groaning in pain. Every part of his body ached something fierce, even the roots of his hair. As he lifted his head, his gaze searched the room, taking in the pale yellow walls and the two people who sat just a few feet away. They were frozen in place, trapped in a single moment of time.
There was a portly man with one ankle resting on the opposite knee and a notepad in his lap, and another lying on a chaise, eyes closed, his stream of consciousness the vehicle Aidan had used to arrive.
Wincing with every movement, Aidan couldn’t remember ever feeling this dreadful in his life. Lurching to his feet, he reached out and caught the edge of the nearby desk, sucking in deep breaths as the small room spun violently.
A slow, soft click sounded loudly in the room.
Aidan looked at the clock on the wall, understanding that one second had passed since he’d arrived. Time was beginning to recover, which meant he didn’t have long. He knew a guy with a sword wasn’t going to go over well here.
Shoving his physical discomfort aside, he moved to the nearby closet, which was distinguished by its smaller door compared to the two that flanked it. Inside, he found several garments covered in dry-cleaning bags.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the hypnotist was about the same height, but while the man—at rough guess—weighed similarly, his body was mostly fat. Still, the extra large clothes looked as if they might fit, so Aidan grabbed a pale blue shirt, dark blue pants, and belt, then quickly left the room.
In the reception area, a young woman was paused in the process of stuffing envelopes. Looking over her shoulder, Aidan noted the return address—San Diego, California—and smiled. Sheron had done remarkably well considering how short a time the Elder had been given.
Reaching beneath the desk, Aidan caught up the burgundy leather purse there and rifled through it, withdrawing a hundred dollars’ worth of various denomination bills and a set of car keys. He wrote a simple “Thank you” on a piece of paper, slipped it into her wallet, and set the bag back where he’d found it.
Outside the office, in the nondescript hallway that led to the elevators, Aidan found a restroom, where he changed clothes. The overly large pants necessitated some alteration of the belt to secure them around his lean hips, but this took only a moment, and he was quickly on the move. He kept everything with him, refusing to be in a strange world without his accoutrements of battle. The subsequent long trip down the stairs in his weakened state nearly did him in. He stopped often, holding the rail and gasping, while willing his uncooperative body to function properly.
Tick tock. Time was still passing for him, despite what the clocks said, and he needed to reach Lyssa before nightfall.
By the time Aidan reached the lobby, time was ad
vancing full speed ahead. The elevators were once again functional, and humans scurried industriously through the foyer that led to the outside. He wondered if anyone would stop him and question the scabbard he held at his side, but aside from blatantly appreciative female glances, no one paid any attention to his glaive. Clinging to the weapon with white-knuckled force, Aidan longed for the comfort the feel of the hilt normally imparted. While he wasn’t afraid, he felt very much alone.
Lyssa.
He was assaulted by a variety of smells, some pleasant, some not. In dreams, this plethora of sensory input was muted or overlooked. Not so in actuality. The sounds of this world were many, a cacophony of voices and machinery that increased his nausea. He stumbled out the front glass doors with a desperate need for circulating air.
Using trial-and-error in tandem with the alarm remote on the key chain, Aidan located the early-model white Toyota Corolla, the interior of which smelled like something stale and burnt. Once he realized the hideous odor came from the ashtray, Aidan tossed the entire thing out the window. He’d shared postcoital cigarettes in dreams, but never had the true rankness of the habit been revealed to him.
Altogether, his first impression of the new world was not a positive one, which only made him long for Lyssa with a biting hunger.
A torn map, endless one-way streets, and drivers who couldn’t stay in their lanes made getting to the freeway beyond frustrating, but Aidan was determined, and he used every bit of memory Dreamers had given him over the years to get on his way.
Toward the woman of his dreams.
“That sounds wonderful, Chad,” Lyssa murmured into the phone while absently drawing doodles on her puppy-shaped notepad. “Really. But I’m not up for it tonight. I’m wiped out.” Glancing up at the clock on the kitchen wall, she noted the time—six o’clock.
“Okay, forget the movie. I’ll cook.”
Sighing, Lyssa rolled her tense shoulders and dropped the pencil to rub the back of her neck. “Dinner sounds great, it really does, but it’s been such a long day, and—”