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  Now she saw Ben standing behind Spider. He stood on a patch of sand. Maybe from the oasis. She took a small amount of triumph in the fact she’d shaped around him, wherever he’d been.

  “The meadow again,” Ben said as she moved toward him and Spider. “I always know it’s you when I see this meadow.”

  “Nobody’s making you stay,” she pointed out. She stopped to pat Spider’s back. “Right?”

  Spider snorted. “Kids, let’s not fight.”

  She’d only meant to tease, but Ben wasn’t smiling. He looked different today. A little paler. His blue shirt was rolled up to his elbows, the fabric rumpled and creased. The hem of his cords had frayed more. He held his right hand under his left elbow, and as she watched, stretched the arm slowly, fingers flexing.

  “What’s the matter with your arm?” she asked.

  Ben looked at Spider and didn’t answer for a minute. “I had a bad dream.”

  Tovah thought about laughing, but he had no humor in his voice. “And you hurt your arm?”

  Ben nodded. He stretched out the arm again, then wiggled his fingers. “I had a run-in with someone bad.”

  “Really?” She moved forward without thinking to take his hand in hers. She probed the tendons of his wrist. “Just now?”

  “No. Before.”

  Before wasn’t a real time, though it made more sense in the Ephemeros than a clock’s hours did. Spider clambered on top of the moss-covered boulder next to him. Ben took his hand away from Tovah’s.

  She looked back at them, one to the other. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I told you there’s shapers who don’t play nice.” Spider stretched out his two foremost legs like a magician demonstrating he had nothing up his sleeves. “Ben found one.”

  “The same one who is messing with the Ephemeros?” Tovah asked, still confused. And concerned. She and Ben didn’t always get along, that was true, and after their last conversation she was fairly convinced they weren’t ever going to be anything more than casual friends, but that didn’t mean she wished him harm.

  “We don’t know. Maybe.” Ben steadfastly didn’t look at her.

  Like anything else in the Ephemeros, the pain could be shaped away, or it went away upon waking. Why Ben’s hadn’t was more interesting than his pain, itself. She looked at Spider again, then back to Ben.

  “Guys, c’mon.”

  Spider sighed. “Sometimes things happen, Tovahleh.”

  “Yeah, really?” She crossed her arms. “I’d never have guessed.”

  “Not as often as they could,” Spider continued as though she hadn’t been snippy. “But they do.”

  “This woman—”

  “It was a woman?” Tovah interrupted. She thought of the boy with the red-and-white striped ball, the dogheaded man. There had been a woman with them, too. “A woman did that to you?”

  Ben looked at her, the line of his jaw tense as he gritted his teeth. “She represented as a woman, anyway.”

  “But…you think she wasn’t?” Tovah watched Ben pace. “C’mon, Ben. Talk to me.”

  He whirled to face her. “It was a bad dream, okay? You’ve had them!”

  “Everyone does.” Tovah looked to Spider for support and found none. She looked back at Ben, determined not to let his prickliness work her up. “But now that you can shape—”

  He shook his head once, violently, then again. “No. She was strong. And she wasn’t alone.”

  “Shapers working together to create havoc,” Spider said. “Not a good thing, Tovahleh.”

  “No. I don’t think so.” She rubbed Spider’s back lightly the way she’d scratch Max behind the ears. “But what can we do?”

  “We can be careful, that’s all.” Spider turned to look at her with eight small dark eyes like glittering jewels. “I want you to be careful.”

  “I will. Of course I will.” She thought of the man with the dog’s head and shivered.

  “And it wouldn’t hurt if we stuck together.” Spider’s colors darkened.

  “Do you think I need a babysitter?” Tovah stopped rubbing his back. “Aside from the fact you’re the only one of us three who can always find the others, why would you assume that this person, whoever she was, is going to even bother with any of us again?”

  “Because she can,” Ben said. “She likes to. I mean…I wasn’t doing anything to her. At first I thought she was a sleeper. She had that feeling around her. That drain, you know what I mean? From someone who wants something?”

  Tovah knew what he meant. “Yes. But she wasn’t a sleeper?”

  He shook his head. “No. But she didn’t seem like a shaper, either. I mean…she could shape. She did. But it was more like she…took. And she didn’t know what a guide was. She didn’t know Spider.”

  Spider made a low noise. “You told her about me?”

  Ben nodded slowly. “I thought every guide knew you.”

  Spider’s mandibles clicked. “No. Not all. The Ephemeros is a big place, Ben. Big and tiny at the same time, you know what I mean?”

  “I know.” Ben flexed his hand without wincing this time. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll just have to be on our guards, that’s all. Make sure we’re strong. Don’t put ourselves in her way. Like Spider said, the Ephemeros is a big place.” Tovah looked at Spider carefully. “What? You’re worried about something else.”

  Spider sank lower, his legs gripping the boulder. “Something’s affecting everyone and everything, that’s what. Something is making cracks in this world. Maybe it’s that woman, maybe not. But things might get worse before they get better, is all I’m saying.”

  Tovah thought on this as she watched Ben keep up his pacing. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

  “Lots of bad dreams,” Ben said, voice grim.

  “People have been having nightmares forever, Ben.”

  “What if that’s all they’ll ever have?” he shot back.

  “You can’t know that,” Tovah said, not disagreeing with him but irritated at his tone.

  “I know how it felt when she was with me, that’s all. Like everyone was having a bad dream at the same time, and nothing good would ever happen again.”

  She watched him soberly. Spider said nothing. “Bad dreams are just that. Bad. Eventually, you wake up.”

  “Not everyone wakes up, Tovahleh,” said Spider. “But you’re going to, in just a minute. So go. We’ll talk again. And be careful, doll.”

  “But—”

  But there was no time for buts because her alarm went off, her eyes slammed open and Max, woofing, leaped onto the bed hard enough to rattle the headboard against the wall.

  “How does he always know?” she said aloud.

  Chapter Eight

  Tovah was in love with her computer. She used it to communicate with her boss, buy a new winter coat, rent the latest DVD releases, pay her bills and keep in touch with friends who lived far away. Kevin had always monopolized their computer to play online games and later, she’d discovered, chat with his then lover, now fiancée. Having the computer to herself—and a new one, at that, better than the one he’d insisted on taking—was a pleasure she wasn’t ashamed to relish.

  Today she was using it to find free stock photos for some last-minute layout changes in the upcoming issue of This Week In Central PA. The magazine was due to the printer by Friday, some advertisers had changed their minds about fonts and graphics, and her boss had actually called her at home instead of emailing her the way he usually did to talk about what they wanted. She was having a hard time finding sensual black-and-white photos that didn’t look sleazy.

  She couldn’t type very fast, but she rarely made mistakes. Even with several different screens open, she was able to move back and forth between them with ease, keeping up an IM conversation with Adina while she worked on the project and sipped hot tea at the same time. Tovah had just signed off the instant messenger when the small red one appeared on her mail icon, and she open
ed her email.

  CHECK THIS OUT.

  Wary at first, she looked to the message’s sender. Kelly. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t spam, but Tovah wasn’t so sure it wouldn’t be porn. Then again, a little porn never hurt anyone, and if it came from Kelly it was sure to be worth a look. Times like this she was especially happy to work from home. She clicked on the message and let out a low whistle.

  Justin Ross. The face stared at Tovah from her computer screen in such high definition she could count the freckles on his nose. He had very nice greenish brown eyes and a lush mouth that looked good frowning and smiling.

  Hotty McHottenstuff, said the message. Click on the links for interviews. You will die!

  Tovah shook her head with a small laugh at Kelly’s fannish obsession, but clicked. The link took her to a popular video posting site where people could upload their favorite interviews. Kelly had sent her to several Runner-related clips. Tovah hadn’t yet watched the borrowed DVDs and had no clue about its plot or characters, but she watched, intrigued as Justin Ross maneuvered the various red carpets and answered the same questions time and again with the same gentle humor.

  She had to admit, she was impressed. He was cute and seemed nice. She watched a clip of him signing autograph after autograph with a smile for each screaming, shaking girl who offered up her pen and her heart. Maybe she’d stay awake a bit later tonight and start on season one.

  Someone had uploaded a clip of him being interviewed by a popular daytime TV talk-show hostess, a brunette who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him. She touched his shoulder, his knee, the back of his hand. Tovah wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman hadn’t climbed up on his lap. What really caught her attention, though, were the woman’s questions.

  “Runner deals with a lot of paranormal stuff,” said the hostess with a smile. “Tell me, Justin, do you really believe in all that?”

  “I think there’s a whole lot of stuff in the world I don’t understand,” came his answer accompanied by a charming smile.

  “If you only knew,” Tovah told the computer monitor.

  Though there were dozens more clips, Tovah didn’t have time to watch them all. She typed a quick email to Kelly thanking her for the eye candy and entertainment, then prepared to get back to work. Before she did, an advertisement on the video clip site caught her eye.

  Find Anyone.

  Just for fun, she typed the name Justin Ross. More than thirty matches came up on her screen, each listing an age and city. She had no way of knowing which were true matches, though she could rule out the ones with ages over forty. She’d have had to pay for more information, and though the option to pay one flat fee for forty-eight hours of unlimited search results was reasonably priced, Tovah didn’t exactly feel a burning urge to track down Ross in Los Angeles, Vancouver, Dallas or Pine Creek, Illinois, wherever that might be.

  Still, the thought she could look up anyone, even a relatively well-known actor, and discover their street address and the names and addresses of possible relatives intrigued her. Scared her a little, too. What would a search reveal about her?

  A minute later, she knew. The search came up with her past five addresses, including the P.O. Box number from her time in the Sisters of Mercy. It listed her sister’s name and address as well as her parents’. And Kevin’s new address, oddly enough.

  Henry’s name came up with four matches, one of which was his current. Kelly’s had a couple pages of matches, most of them not the right Kelly Leeds. Tovah, fascinated by the ease with which she could use this information to search further for birth and death records, marriage licenses, real estate transactions, typed in the names of old school friends and even an ex-boyfriend or two. It really would be easy to become a stalker, she thought when the name of the first boy ever to break her heart popped up on the screen.

  Her search on Martin Goodfellow, M.D., came up with no matches.

  Your search has resulted in 0 matches. Try expanding your search.

  When she took away the quotations around the name, she got thousands of results. Most of them meant nothing. A Martin in one spot paired with a Goodfellow in another part of the page wasn’t helpful. She scrolled anyway, through a list of links to Web sites as varied in their content as jellybeans in a jar. She looked over the first page and clicked to the second, though she knew she shouldn’t bother. She found ads for doctors’ offices and several for a British rock band, along with the hosted ads that offered to sell her Martin Goodfellow off an auction site.

  And then, near the bottom of the third page, a link jumped out at her. Dream Crime, it said, and the premise was intriguing enough for her to click through. The article she found was worthless for her search. It was rehash of years-old crimes that had, on the surface, seemed like sure things. Embezzlements, jewelry thefts, forged identities. The name Goodfellow showed up connected with a kidnapping that had ended badly, Martin with an insurance scam, the M.D. with something else.

  She should let it go. It didn’t matter. Tovah clicked on the advanced search option, which allowed her to enter a last name and wildcard search string.

  Too many matches, now. She tried Goodfellow, M. and found Michael, Myrna, Morris, Matthew, Marshall, Mary, Maeve, Matilda. She tried one last time, narrowing the search to Pennsylvania. No M. Goodfellows at all, though there was a Goodfellow, E. listed in both Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, and a Goodfellow, W. listed in Scranton and Pittsburgh.

  She laughed at herself. What had she expected to find, anyway? His address and phone number? She didn’t need either. She’d see him when she visited Spider. She wasn’t going to call him, even if she did know where he lived and who with.

  Yet…knowing how to find someone gave a certain sort of power. Knowing she had all this information at her fingertips, available with the virtual swipe of a credit card, was tempting. From this site she could figure out where he’d gone to school, if he’d been married or divorced, had children, been in trouble with the law. She could see if he was as trustworthy as he’d seemed.

  She didn’t want to think overlong about why this was important to her, or why she was letting a pair of pretty blue eyes so invade her thoughts. He’d given her no reason to think he was available or interested. Hell. She wasn’t available, or interested. He was Henry’s doctor, and therefore, not a dating option, should she even decide she wanted to start dating again. Which she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to do out here in the waking world where it was all so much harder.

  Before she could get sucked in further to the Internet’s wiles, Tovah closed the browser. Max lifted his head from his paws as she twirled in her chair to look at him. “Yes, I know. Silly.”

  Max panted and licked his jaws.

  “He just seems nice, that’s all.” Tovah scratched Max behind the ears. “Oy vey, Max, a doctor! My mother will plotz!”

  Max woofed lightly, pushing his head into her hand. Tovah laughed and was just about to get up when the small red one appeared in her email icon again. Another message from Kelly.

  Runner’s on tonight. You’d better watch it!

  She’d added another few pictures of Justin Ross. Tovah looked at them. She had to admit, the guy was cute.

  “Why,” she asked the dog, “do men like that simply not exist in my real life?”

  Max gave her a look of unmistakable disdain.

  “I know. Men are trouble. I don’t feel like dating. I don’t want to deal with the whole getting-naked thing. I know, I know, I know!” Tovah tossed up her hands. “It’s just…”

  She bent to rub her face against Max’s broad head. “It’s just lonely sometimes.”

  Max licked her face. Slobber flew. Tovah, who loved her dog but wasn’t enamored of the drool, grimaced and pushed him away to wipe her face.

  “Gross.”

  Max woofed and grinned, tongue lolling.

  “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go have some ice cream and watch Runner.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sleepers in need of a
guide often sent out signals that reminded Tovah of the tap-tap of Morse code. Small, flexing ripples in the fabric of the Ephemeros directed those interested in helping toward the sleeper, or attracted other sleepers with the same dream needs. Tovah wasn’t either, so she pushed away the insistent push and pull and concentrated on her own scene.

  She sensed him before she saw him. At first surprised that the sleeper had somehow bypassed her shields, it took her but a moment to understand. With so many episodes of Runner filling her brain just before bedtime, it was no wonder Justin Ross had found her.

  He wasn’t alone.

  No wonder he was running, she thought as the crowd behind him emerged from the boundary of her meadow. A horde of screaming fangirls had almost caught up with him. Tovah watched from a distance as he stumbled over the hills she’d shaped as practice not more than five breaths before. She hadn’t intended them to be an obstacle course. He recovered quickly, running though he was in bare feet, the hem of his jeans dragging. His shirt, too, was open, exposing a chest and belly Tovah could see was taut with muscle even from her vantage point.

  “Rep-re-SENT,” she murmured appreciatively. Ross had no issues with his body.

  He went to one knee as she watched. He looked over his shoulder, a movement that brought his profile into clear view. She expected fright, perhaps anger. It was his expression of weary resignation that got her on her feet. He was a man ready to give up, give in, to let himself be trampled by the swarm of groping zombies. A quick glance showed her the chasing crowd had grown. It wasn’t just women anymore. There were a fair number of men, too, and sexless others on the outskirts clutching cell phones and yelling about options and lump payments and lunch.

  He got up, hands held out as though he meant to offer himself up to them. The crowd surged, nearly reaching him. He closed his eyes. Clearly this was not a new nightmare. Spider would say he had to dream it, for reasons Tovah wasn’t meant to know, but she couldn’t stand by and watch him get mauled right in front of her. Nor could she bring herself to shape away to some other corner of the Ephemeros and leave him to his fate.