Dreamfire (4 page)

After hours of food, drink, and chitchat, people were beginning to leave; dawn was on the way and the next day was a Friday. Those who weren't leaving were getting progressively more intoxicated, including Josh's father and Young Ben.

Josh scanned the crowd for a threat, just as she would have in the Dream. She passed her scroll from one hand to the other. She wasn't used to drinking, and she was beginning to suspect that a single piece of chocolate cake wasn't enough to soak up three glasses of Champagne. Her head had grown very hard to hold up, and knowledge that her reflexes were dulled made her even more anxious.

They'd drunk Champagne on Ian's birthday too, and when he'd kissed her the bubbles had made her lips feel like they were sparkling. He had held her hand all night, and when dawn had broken they had gone up to his room and cracked the seal on his scroll.

And he had never kissed her again.

“You're really not going to open it?” Deloise asked. She was being sensible and eating a handful of nuts to counteract all the sugar she'd ingested. “Come on, Josh, snap that seal. I want to know what it says.”

“Win, is it just rude to ask someone what their scroll says, or is there actually a rule against it?”

Winsor covered a yawn with one hand and leaned back on the lumpy plaid couch. “Both. It's so rude there's a rule against it.”

“What?” Deloise said. “You're making that up.”

“It's the dream-walker version of the Ten Commandments,” Winsor said, closing her eyes. She'd looked decidedly bored most of the evening. “First commandment: Don't ask anybody what their scroll says.”

“What's the second commandment?”

“There's only one. It's that important.” She yawned again. “But there's no point in nagging Josh to open it. She has a complex.”

Sitting forward, Josh couldn't see Winsor, who was leaning back beside her. But she could feel the tip of that blade in Winsor's voice as if it were tracing words across her back.

“A complex?” Deloise repeated.

“She's afraid she won't be able to handle what's written inside. Some people can't, you know.”

Josh was on her feet and a yard away before she realized she had moved. She caught sight of her grandmother among the lingering guests and called over her shoulder, “I'm going to go say hi to Grandma.”

“That was mean,” she heard Deloise tell Winsor.

Yeah,
Josh agreed silently.
It was.

But she didn't stay to defend herself because she believed she had no right to be angry. Not when she was the one who had caused so much damage.

Dustine Borgenicht greeted her granddaughter with a hug, stepping tremulously out from behind her walker, which had been made especially for Dustine from white pine and polished to a high shine for the celebration. Dustine wasn't a hugger, but then neither was Josh, and the exchange was somewhat awkward.

“Happy birthday, honey.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

“And you're wearing my necklace,” Dustine said. “Don't I feel special. You look beautiful.” She frowned and reached out to adjust the necklace around Josh's throat. “Now, if I can just get through your sister's seventeenth, maybe I can die already.”

“Grandma!”

Dustine chuckled at Josh's upset. “Sorry. No one told the bartender not to give us old folks wine tonight.”

“I don't think there is a bartender.”

“That explains it, then. Don't worry, dear, I'm not going anywhere.” Her eyes narrowed. “Well, not permanently, but here comes your grandfather, and dueling at a birthday party would be rude. Cover for me.”

Josh watched her grandmother scuttle off toward the far end of the basement a great deal faster than her walker would imply she could move. Questions about the man in the trench coat would have to wait till morning. When Josh turned around, her grandfather was grinning at her.

She didn't understand how her grandparents had ever decided to marry each other. They were both dominant and in-charge types, and Peregrine's know-it-all attitude clashed horribly with Dustine's need for control. Unfortunately, they were also the type of people who didn't get divorced; they had just been estranged ever since the overthrow of the monarchy. Dustine hadn't approved of her husband's actions during the coup—particularly the part where he burned the palace to the ground with the king and queen and infant princess still inside it—and had hardly spoken to him since.

Peregrine Borgenitch was shorter than his wife and always moved like he'd been drinking too much coffee. He wore a practiced smile beneath his overbright eyes.

“Happy birthday, Joshy!” he cried.

Joshy. Ugh.

“Thanks,” Josh said weakly. He hugged her so hard she tasted the cake she'd eaten in the back of her throat.

“Been working hard?” he asked. “You're the best, you know, the best of all the little dream walkers around. I tell everybody on the junta the same thing.”

“That's just … skippy,” Josh mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Anything for my granddaughter. Your mother would be so proud.”

Actually,
Josh thought,
Mom probably would have been pretty bored
. Jona had hated social events.

Peregrine made a show of opening his suit coat and pulling out a checkbook. “That's real gold leaf on these checks,” he said smugly, and scribbled Josh's name on one. After scratching the date, he drew a perfect five and a zero in the amount box.

Then he turned to her, grinned conspiratorially, and added another zero.

Josh had to stop herself from sighing. Her father was the CEO of Strike on Box Records, a massive label responsible for the latest boy band and two of the slutty sixteen-year-old singers currently in high demand. Josh was no stranger to money.

“Thanks,” she said again as she accepted the check. She'd tried to refuse one once, and Peregrine had insisted on adding yet another decimal place.

“Spend it on something you really want,” he told her. “Don't just stick it in a bank account like your mother would have.” He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned close. His breath smelled like old mustard. “Your mother was a wonderful person, Josh, but she wasn't much fun.”

“Are you talking about me?” asked a female voice.

Great,
Josh thought, sliding out from her grandfather's grasp. Who had put together this guest list?

“No, Davey,” Peregrine replied with a condescending smile, “we all know how much fun you were back in the day.”

Davita Bach was a titian beauty in her midforties. She was the government representative for all the dream walkers in Josh's hometown of Tanith, and Josh had never been certain whether she and Peregrine actually wanted to do each other harm or just enjoyed ribbing each other.

“Back in the day?” Davita repeated, laughing.

“Yes,” Peregrine agreed, “before you sided with the monarchy and the revolution nearly destroyed your career.”

Davita didn't seem to mind the disgusting barb—the same way she didn't mind that her continued allegiance to the few remaining members of the royal family meant she had no hope of ever advancing in dream-walker politics. Josh knew that at the end of the gold chain that vanished under Davita's blouse hung the Rousellarios' royal emblem, a star tetrahedron.

“Ah, yes,” Davita said, “but if I hadn't landed here then I would never have had the chance to meet Josh and find out what a delightful and amazingly talented generation is going to take over when the junta finally steps down. Speaking of which, I got you a birthday present, Josh.”

“You didn't have to do that,” Josh told her.

“No,” Davita agreed, “but I wanted to.” She handed Josh a plain white envelope with an unsealed flap and nodded for her to open it.

After tucking her scroll under one arm, Josh removed a picture cut from a catalogue that showed a black mesh vest against a camouflage background. The caption read, “Finally, bulletproof protection for smaller people!”

“It's real Kevlar,” Davita promised. “Deloise gave me your size, and they're making it special.”

Peregrine lost his smile as he realized that Davita had upstaged him.

“Wow, Davita,” Josh said, folding the picture up. She hugged the older woman quickly, and this time she didn't feel awkward at all. “This is so great of you!”

Davita smelled like jasmine and facial powder. “It won't be ready for at least a month, but I thought you wouldn't mind the wait.”

“Of course not. Thank you.”

Peregrine took the picture from Josh and examined it skeptically. “I would think that a girl as skillful as you wouldn't need fancy toys like bulletproof vests.”

“Dimka's Adage:
Better to wear too many coats than freeze to death in a bush,
” Josh quoted, and took the picture back.

Peregrine rolled his eyes, and Davita looped her arm through his. “Come on, old man, let's go argue politics with someone who cares. Happy birthday, Josh.”

Josh watched Davita guide her grandfather away and tucked the envelope into the pocket of her skirt. This was the nicest thing that had happened all night.

Her grandmother had vanished, but she managed to find her father, who threw his arms around her. All this hugging was getting to be a nuisance; Josh felt like a psychiatrist's teddy bear.

“Hi, Dad,” she said as she pulled away. “Hi, Ben.”

Young Ben had discarded his tuxedo jacket and cummerbund. He had a tumbler of scotch in his hand and a giddy expression on his face. “It's the birthday girl!”

Her father appeared equally intoxicated. “I'm glad to see you guys are enjoying yourselves without the help of chemical stimulants,” Josh said, appraising them both. “It's important to remember that you can just say no.”

Lauren peered at her with blurry eyes and said, “You should be getting to bed, Josh. It's late.”

“I have to leave for school in a few hours. If I sleep now, I'll just be groggy all day.”

“All right,” Lauren agreed, “but you have to sleep sometime if you're going to stay awake tomorrow night.”

“Why would I stay awake tomorrow night?” Josh was pretty certain she wasn't on the schedule to dream walk.

“To wait for your apprentice. He's coming tomorrow, isn't he?”

Josh stared at her father. His drunkenness was rapidly losing humor in her eyes. “What?”

“Your apprentice. At midnight thirty.”

“Dad, that's not even a time, and I don't know what you're talking about.”

Lauren glanced at the floor around his feet as if looking for something, then back at Josh. “Didn't you open your scroll?”

“
What?
”

Lauren's expression turned to one of absolute horror, but after a moment he laughed again, uneasily, as if he were trying to ward off approaching guilt.

“Oh my god,” Josh said. “Where's Kerstel?”

Lauren pointed deeper into the basement.

Josh made a beeline for her stepmother, whom she found condensing the remaining snacks onto a single table. Josh knew her expression must have been dreadful, because she didn't even have to speak before Kerstel said, “What's wrong, hon?”

Josh didn't often reach out to people, but she found herself holding on to Kerstel's elbow like a toddler hanging on to a parent's pant leg.

“Does it say in my scroll that I'm going to have an apprentice who will arrive at twelve thirty tomorrow night?”

Kerstel glanced down at the scroll in Josh's hand. “Did you read it?”

“I didn't even open it. I'm never going to open it, but Dad's four sheets to the wind, and he just blurted it out. Tell me it isn't true.”

Kerstel took a deep breath, and then she very evenly said, “It's true.”

The world began to tilt. All the people shifted, and when Josh looked around, instead of defining the room by edges and contrasts, she started to see the planes of color made by suit jackets and white tablecloths. Her stomach rolled. She didn't realize she was falling over until Kerstel grabbed her shoulders.

“Oh my god,” Josh breathed, sinking against an antique wardrobe. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“I'm going to get your father.”

“I'm going to throw up, Kerstel. I don't want to throw up.”

Kerstel pushed Josh's head down toward her knees. “You aren't going to throw up. Just don't think of a blue horse.”

“A blue horse?”

Josh didn't know what that meant, but she did spend the next several minutes too distracted by trying
not
to think of a blue horse to throw up.

Across the basement, Kerstel spoke to Laurentius in a low voice accompanied by sharp gestures. The news sank into Josh's numbed brain like a lead pipe into quicksand.
I didn't ask for this,
she thought
. I'm not ready for this.

When her father and Kerstel came back, she said without waiting, “What if I never open the scroll at all? What if I decide not to, like Winsor did?”

Lauren looked significantly less drunk than he had two minutes ago. He held out a hand to help her off the floor, but she ignored it.

“Reading the scroll wouldn't change anything except your knowing about it.”

“But how is this even allowed? Don't you have to want to teach an apprentice? Don't you have to sign up for some sort of training—”

“Josh.” He blinked hard, as if trying to clear his eyes of an alcoholic haze. “Some things are meant to be. We can't control them, no matter what we do.”

“But then what's the point? I thought the scrolls were meant to help us get by, not give us assignments.”

When he realized she wasn't going to stand up, Lauren knelt down in front of her. “You're not listening,” he said with a kindness that bordered on pity. “If I hadn't told you that this boy was coming here tonight to learn dream walking, he still would have ended up here. You still would have taken him on as your apprentice. Whether you knew ahead of time or not, it would still happen.”