Hunted Dreams (21 page)

The apple looked ordinary enough: small, pink and yellow streaked, shiny and unbruised. Such suspicion for something so little and pretty.

Katana bit into the fruit. It was tart and sweet with a honey—

Emotion burst in her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath rasped, her vision grew gray around the edges. Small slivers of cold pierced her trunk, and her hands fluttered to her chest. Katana gasped.

She felt shocked. Some kind of apprehensive, fearful shock. Surprise and fear times ten.

She finally remembered to swallow the bite of apple. After a moment, the feeling faded, became an echo, disappeared.

Katana lifted the apple, studied it. “Did you do that?” she asked it. She stared in wry amusement at the small sphere with the jagged bite torn from its side. Biblical symbolism, anyone? She may not believe in dream symbolism, but it seemed to believe in her.

Carefully, she placed the apple on the table in front of her. Then, she grabbed a nearby spoon and leaned forward to scoop up a bite of mashed potatoes. She slipped the spoon into her mouth.

It tasted glorious: creamy with a buttery finish. She hardly noticed. The spoon clattered to the tabletop as she shrank in her chair, away from the table and its edible burdens. A wave of heat roiled in her torso and flowed into her limbs, her eyes darted from side to side. She gasped rich lungfuls of air. Her muscles tensed, preparing to grab her sword or run.

Terror.

She knew a lot about this particular emotion. Her right hand clutched the fork, ready to defend her against some unknown assailant. Oddly, her head felt both clear and muddled as the emotion pierced her brain in a bright yellow spike.

She swallowed the potatoes, and the terror slipped from her.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, staring at the streaked spoon on the table before her.

She waited a few minutes, letting her breathing and adrenalin return to normal, before once again broaching the table’s boundaries. This time, she bit into a garlicky asparagus spear.

Before she could stop herself, she snarled at the asparagus and hurled it, fork and all, across the table. It landed with a plop in something soupy. Wild emotion grated in her stomach, a grinding pressure that demanded some kind of action. Her hands and jaw clenched, her arms shook. Blood roared in her ears.

Savagely she swallowed the bite of asparagus, and the fury faded.

A well-buttered roll warmed her mouth and spilled oppressive sorrow into her body from the head down. Her body grew heavy, her muscles weak, and tears leaked from clouded eyes. Sadness, like some kind of dark gravity, pulled her thoughts, her arms, even her facial features downward. Her stomach felt empty, her eyelids burdensome, her mind fuzzy.

Slowly, reluctantly, she swallowed the bite and waited while the colors flooded back into the room.

She tasted three more bites, and although the foods themselves were delicious, she experienced spikes of guilt, shame, and anger, the last less violent this time and more suppressed and achingly impotent.

What was the significance of these particular feelings? Why no joy, no goofiness, no boredom? Only intense, uncomfortable feelings. Were these echoes of what she’d felt since entering this dreamworld? A promise of things to come?

Or were these the feeling Leeches could eat? Leeches ate “negative” feelings, according to Reed. She didn’t classify any of these feelings as inherently negative; each served a purpose in life. Maybe he meant Leeches’ evocation of these emotions made them feel painful?

A buffet. A buffet of feelings. She laughed. Not subtle symbolism, when she thought about it.
She
was the apple, the asparagus, the roll: a Katana buffet.

“I hope you choke on it,” she muttered to the room. It gleamed, white and cold, in silent response.

That night as he lay down in bed, freshly scrubbed and smelling fine, Reed shook his head against the pillow. A year ago he’d returned to Los Angeles after unenlisting. Rootless, alone, he’d drifted from job to job in some kind of apathetic haze. Who knew that, come early spring of next year, he’d find himself living in a house of Leeches, honing his inherent abilities, finally pursuing a cause that really mattered to him? And no, the cause wasn’t the Clan’s precious Sleeper Project.

Chapter 11

Bright white burned her eyes and dazzled her senses. Even closing her eyes, Katana could feel the white pressing against her skin, smelling clean and crisp, tasting cold and sweet like bottled water.

She felt the weight of her sword against her left hip. Her left hand grasped something warm and slightly damp. With a gasp, her eyes squinted open.

“We finally arrived at the same time,” Reed said, smiling slightly at her.

Katana grinned at him and squeezed his fingers. “Was that a sexual double entendre?” she asked him.

Reed laughed at her. “Trust you to go there. But hey, I’m easily led.” He turned to her, leaned down, and kissed her.

Katana pressed up against him. Her hands moved upward to wind around his neck. His lips felt soft and firm at the same time and tasted like mint. They slanted their heads, nipping and caressing, finding new depths, new crevices to explore. Katana reached a shy tongue out to taste his minty lips. His breathing rasped into her mouth in response. His tongue met hers, and they slid together with dangerously slow heat.

Reed’s hands pressed against the small of her back. As their kiss deepened, he smoothed his hands over her back and down her sides. Warmth dripped like honey in her stomach and throbbed throughout her body. Katana made a soft sound against him. When his hands rubbed the small of her back, she pressed more firmly against him.

“I wanted this for so long,” Reed murmured against her lips.

Surprise, dulled by the heat of their exchange, made her pull back very slightly. “Really?” she asked softly.

Reed chuckled and kissed her upper lip, the corner of her mouth. “What do you think, girl?” he teased. “I spend all day thinking about you.”

Still flushed and aching, Katana frowned and pulled back a little farther.

Reed sobered. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She could see a wariness crowding out the liquid warmth in his light brown eyes.

She suddenly felt shy and, truth be told, a little ridiculous. They should be discussing strategy, not snogging and emoting. “That sounded kind of, you know, a little like a line.”

Reed stared at her a moment. A smile broadened by degrees on his face until, with a laugh, he pulled her against him in a hug. “You think I’m trying to seduce you?” he asked with far too much amusement. Her frown deepened but didn’t let go of him.

“Listen, Kat, I’m not using my amazing psychic powers to drift into your mind so I can have me some hot dream sex. Don’t get me wrong—you’re sexy as hell. But I can think of better venues for casual sex.”

Yeah, she was starting to feel even more ridiculous.

“Besides, girl, I don’t do lines.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m a lot of things, but smooth is definitely not one of them. This is the first time I’ve said something like that. To anybody.”

Less ridiculous. More absurdly thrilled. She grinned self-consciously at him and he kissed her, hard, before drawing back. “No one has ever seriously accused me of being a player before. I decided to be flattered.” He smiled at her.

“Reed . . .” She stopped, a little embarrassed.

He kissed her jaw. “Mmm-hmm?”

She took a deep breath, released it. “Did you notice you called me Kat?”

He pulled away and smiled at her. Totally objectively speaking, this man was sweet, brave, and so, so beautiful. Of course he wasn’t a player; he probably had to beat women off with baseball bats to maintain that stoic loner thing he had going on.

“Not until you mentioned it,” he admitted. “Now what were you really going to ask?”

And smart. She hesitated. After a minute, she looked over his shoulder into the unrelenting, massive whiteness. “It seems kind of frivolous to discuss this, you know. We should plan and plot.”

“‘This’ being you and me, huh?”

She shrugged stiffly and continued to stare over his shoulder. “I guess I kind of wondered if it means anything.”

“Still think I’m a player, huh?” he teased, but it was a filler question, meant to give him time to think through the question.

“I know you’re not a player,” she said honestly. “I was having an attack of self-doubt, not Reed doubt.”

Reed tilted his head and stared down at her. “What’s that mean?”

She shrugged again, feeling embarrassed once again.
Stupid discussion
, she scolded herself.
Stick with what you know: hitting monsters with your sword and making out with gorgeous men
. “It means, I don’t know. I guess it means I trust you. But what could be appealing to you about some crazy chick trapped in a never-ending dream?”

He shook his head at her. “You trust me?”

Her brow wrinkled. “Yeah.”

“You like me?”

“Yeeeaaaah,” she drawled in confusion.

“You think I’m pretty.” He grinned at her.

She flashed an embarrassed grin in return. “Definitely.”

He raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes, and shook his head in a “well, then” gesture.

“You kissed me because I think you’re hot?” she asked in confusion.

Reed smiled and pressed his forehead against hers. “Naw, naw, naw. Tough woman, underestimating herself. I kissed you because you’re smart and funny and beautiful and strong. This shit . . .” His hands rubbed her upper arms. “All this would have killed anyone, but you keep going. You’re a lot stronger than me.”

She drew back very slightly and opened her mouth, but he shook his head and kissed her quickly. “One more thing, okay? For real, no one has ever trusted me. No one. Not Jade, not my army buddies, not even my mom, who loved the hell out of me but. . .” He stopped for a moment before continuing. “. . . but she was scared of me. I’ve never been anything to anyone but a mistake, a worry. A monster. And now a strong and beautiful woman lets me play hero.

“That’s why I kiss you, why I think about you all the time, why I look more forward to dreaming right now than to living my life.”

Her heart knocked on her ribs and for once, it wasn’t in fear or horror. Reed’s features had arranged themselves into some combination of tender and defensive. God, he was amazing, this big, tough, vulnerable guy.

“That’s exactly what I’d expect a player to say,” she joked. He cracked a tiny, wary smile.
Oh, stars.
“You’re wrong,” she said quickly, before he could withdraw from her. “You’re immensely strong. That took a lot of guts.”

She drew in a breath, held it. On an exhale, she said, “I just want us to have some kind of future, or at least a chance. I mean, not a lot of opportunities for courtship in here.” She gestured around her and looked up when something caught her eye. Above them, black scribbles stained the shining white.

Reed glanced up, too. “What’s that?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. A bunch of black lines and loops. Has it always been here?”

Reed squinted at it. She wondered if he was slightly near-sighted. “I don’t think so, but then again, you kind of distracted me.”

She raised her eyebrows at him before glancing back up. Absently, she said, “Well, whatever it is, get ready. In a few minutes it will come electrocute or slice or garrote us.”

He stared hard at her for a minute and then squeezed her upper arms, which he still gripped. “This place doesn’t exactly make for optimism,” he commented gently.

She shook her head in agreement. “I have more information,” she told him. “Nothing as helpful as names, but I remember my, um, my family.”

Reed’s eyes widened. “What they look like?”

“Looked. Twenty years ago. Not so helpful, I know, but I have a mom and dad and my sister, Mandy. I did, that is. Twenty years ago.”

Gently, he asked, “Are they still living?”

“I don’t know about my parents. If they’re alive, they’re in their early-fifties now.”

“What about Mandy?”

Katana shook her head before glancing upward. Sure enough, the black bars and squiggles had descended even further. She stared at them while saying, “Mandy’s dead.” She took a deep breath, looked down. “Who am I kidding, Reed? They’re all dead. I’m the only survivor.”

“How do you know that?”

“It stands to reason. Why else would I have stayed with someone like the Kibbes? They were my foster parents. Kids with bio families don’t have foster families.”

Reed was silent for a second. “Why the word ‘survivor’?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

She nodded at him. “That’s how I learn about me, too. I hear what I say and piece it together with the dreams. In here, through the looking glass, things make a certain kind of sense when you know what you’re searching for.”

Once again, Reed stroked her upper arms through the fabric of her white shirt. For the first time she noticed he wore white, too. “How do you know Mandy died?”

“I saw her,” she whispered. “One of those memory dreams. It’s a recurring dream, but this time I got to see what happened before I entered the room and . . . found her.”

“Oh, honey,” Reed murmured and pulled her close to him.

She hadn’t expected to tell him, had wanted to try to forget. As she trembled against him, though, the words, along with a sprinkling of bitter tears, leaked out of her. “I didn’t save her, Reed,” she finished, her voice a little stronger. “She called out to me, and he found her.”

He hugged her to him and periodically kissed the top of her head. Aside from a few indistinct mutters, he let her talk. After a few minutes, during which time the black lines grew thicker and larger as they descended toward them, she took a breath and asked, “Any news on finding out about me?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “Jade sent me a pretty cryptic email tonight, but I figured it’s saying she wants me to meet her in two days.”

“Jade?” Katana asked in confusion, pulling away. She glanced up again and saw the black ensemble had eclipsed a quarter of the . . . What? Sky? The whiteness around them had no distinction, neither horizon nor ground. Nonetheless, the heavy black lines and hoops descended from somewhere.

Reed nodded, but his eyes had moved upward, too. “Jade’s my Clan contact,” he said.

“What? You’re in contact with the people who threw you away like dinner scraps when they didn’t like your taste?” she gasped.

He smiled at her, although she wasn’t trying to be funny. “I’ll tell you all about it as soon as we . . .” He glanced upward. “Well, maybe we should walk.”

Katana let him decide on a direction and start walking, unwilling to disabuse him of his hope. Hadn’t he noticed that every one of her dreams ended in pain, confusion, or terror? This one wouldn’t be any different. And even if he hadn’t resigned himself enough to wait it out, even he must be able to see the huge black objects were enormous and approaching them quickly. She estimated they had a minute or two before the . . . the things . . .

“They’re words,” she gasped.

Reed, holding her hand, jerked to a stop. He stared into the snowy expanse above, ever more occluded by angles, lines, circles, and dots.

“The words are coming.” She drew in a breath and then laughed.

“Our deadly enemy is a bunch of words?” Reed asked, staring up.

“My mind is getting funnier and funnier. Either it’s starting to get more symbolic or I’m starting to read something into my dreams.” Most likely, she thought, she was simply remembering more than the occasional flash.

“Of all the people in the world, I get to explore the mind of you, crazy, creative woman,” Reed remarked, smiling slightly.

“Some might say it’s fate.” She tried for lightness.

Reed glanced up. “So giant words are falling out of the sky. Maybe we can end up inside one of the ‘O’s or between an I and its dot.”

Katana shrugged. She supported self-preservation, but in this world, where pain and terror reigned, self-preservation meant something entirely different. The worst part of this dream was losing Reed, not in experiencing the inevitable pain, confusion, and fear.

“We got to try,” Reed insisted.

“You don’t get it,” she said, although gently. “This dream will end, whether by a giant word or because we blink and the scenery changes. If I could hold on to this moment, to you, I would, Reed, but . . .” She shrugged again and shook her head.

He turned fully to her. “We’re not giving up,” he snapped. He glanced upward. “The ‘J’ is coming down on top of us. I think if we run over
there
, we might end up just outside it.”

She would have argued she wasn’t giving up, that she was merely realistic about the outcome, but she gazed at his clenched jaw and pinched eyebrows.
A strong and beautiful woman lets me play hero
, he’d said. Smiling slightly, she offered him her hand, and they sprinted in the direction he’d indicated.

It would have been horrifying, or maybe hilarious, if they’d run in slow-motion, legs and arms moving as if pulling taffy: A true dream staple. Instead, they ran as quickly as her much shorter legs would allow them.

The landscape around them dimmed as the enormous letter approached their plane.
Kind of like a giant typewriter key striking a piece of white paper
, she thought as they rushed forward (or back, or to the side; it was impossible to label, since they lacked markers). What did that make them, then? Dust mites? (Bookworms? Ha ha.)

Katana glanced upward and saw the letter rushing toward them, obliterating the surrounding whiteness. Galvanized by Reed’s mad dash, she suddenly
did
want to avoid it, believed it just might be possible to extend their time together as long as possible.

Reed’s hand tugged her along, and she tucked her head in and willed her legs to pump faster. The “sky” had turned entirely black.

Her breath was a silver rasp in her throat. Reed, clad in his white shirt and pants, ran at her side, his longer stride jerking her forward every few seconds.

Reed glanced upward, and his eyes darted as he calculated. A second or two later, he added a burst of speed that Katana couldn’t match, but he yanked her as hard as he could, and with a grunt of pain, she flew-stumbled forward, passing him by a few feet just as the letters crashed into the landscape with a boom that would have cracked the earth.