Tangible (Dreamwalker) (11 page)

Rhys set down the heavy ECT unit and raised both hands. Maggie hadn’t taken the gun off him. Safety or no safety, Rhys would have the sense not to make any sudden moves. Guns—so noisy—were generally a field team’s last resort. “I’m listening.”

Zeke turned to the woman he’d been ordered to mentor. He was supposed to protect her, train her and enable her to play her part in the Somnium. In her eyes, he read pain and confusion, and his immediate response was to kiss her fears away. Which wouldn’t help shit.

Would she have any respect for him after he told her what he’d done? He didn’t like telling this story. Hadn’t told it, in fact, since he’d reported to the curator assigned to the incident. Everyone in the Somnium had heard the details through the grapevine so there’d been no need to enlighten anyone. No need to rub salt in his own wounds.

But Maggie deserved to know. She watched him and Rhys expectantly, aiming the gun between them.

Zeke shoved his hand through his hair and sighed.

“In Harrisburg, I developed a tangible with another disciple I mentored, an L5 named Karen.” He’d meant to relay the story impassively but couldn’t prevent himself from scowling. “After several weeks of training, I had sex with her. I ignored protocol and followed my dick. I screwed up big time. I’m still paying for it.”

Maggie’s gun barrel lowered several inches. “Go on.”

“As it happened, Karen was an undiagnosed sociopath of some sort. The others suspected but I argued for her. Overlooked discrepancies. Lapses. I wouldn’t let anyone close to her, wouldn’t let anyone trance in, because—well, because I was obsessed. Combination of tangible, sex and my utter stupidity.” He thumped his forehead with his fist, remembering. “My God, I was the one in her fucking head. I should have known.”

“But you didn’t,” Rhys said, his voice a rumble. “I’m still waiting to hear why this situation isn’t the same.”

Many of the others had assured Zeke they didn’t blame him for Harrisburg. The curator and vigils had cleared him. But Rhys had never been entirely mollified. “I’m getting to that.”

“Is it because I’m not a psychopath, and Zeke and I didn’t have sex, perhaps?” Maggie, her eyes narrowed at Rhys, didn’t sound as upset as she had, but her composure wouldn’t last.

Zeke had to finish the tale—finish proving to her why she might be better off with a curator. After this night was over, he wouldn’t blame her for choosing an unknown mentor with a reputation for ruthlessness over a fuck-up like him.

“One night during training,” he continued, his voice rough, “Karen trapped me in the dreamsphere. You can do that if you know how, which she shouldn’t have. She left me there to die and tried to murder my body. Her nightmares absorbed my consciousness. Rhys and Lillian freed me, but not before my shield became perforated. I don’t have as much ability in the dreamsphere as I used to, and I could be susceptible to my disciple’s nightmares. That’s why I didn’t want to mentor you. Mostly.”

“Is that why there was a manifestation?” Maggie asked. “Because of your shield? If that’s the problem, Rhys, you owe me an apology. Sounds like you owe Zeke one too.”

“Maybe,” Rhys conceded. “Did the shield fail?”

“Don’t think so,” Zeke said. “Far as I could tell, my shield held when I meant it to. I got us out, no problem. Karen, unlike Maggie, was slick as shit in the dreamsphere, advanced beyond anything I’d taught her, and convinced she could direct the wraiths she manifested. She could trance too. Pop in and out like a trap-door spider.”

“So it’s possible to control wraiths?” Maggie’s gun barrel sank further. Zeke hoped that meant she didn’t want to shoot anyone, but it might just mean her arm had grown tired.

“She summoned five hundred and fifty-three monsters and they didn’t kill her. Killed a lot of other people, though,” he said bluntly. “We don’t know how she managed to survive it. If the curators know, they ain’t saying.”

“Harrisburg,” Maggie breathed. The gun, at last, fell to her side. “It rings a bell but...”

Zeke closed his eyes. “The plane crash. It was all over the news.”

“Oh, God.” She paused. He heard her footsteps as she walked toward him. “That was her? You?”

“Cover-up.”

“What stopped her?”

Zeke sighed. “I did. I neutralized her. It’s something we can do with the ECT. She’s in a coma now, her brain broke as hell. She’s never going back to the dreamsphere and maybe not even terra firma. I didn’t want to kill her outright, and the curator didn’t arrive in time. It was the best solution.”

“You want to put me in a coma?” she asked Rhys, her brows knitting. “All because a few more wraiths showed up?”

Rhys shrugged, not the least bit sheepish. “It’s nothing personal.”

“That’s the Harrisburg story.” Zeke tried to read Maggie’s expression but he’d never been great at that. “Now I’ll explain to both of you why this isn’t Harrisburg. Maggie’s dreamsphere is nothing like Karen’s. Ask Lill. Maggie’s is pure chaos. She’s got no bearings in there. It’s messed up.”

“Lillian did mention it was blotchy,” Rhys said with a frown. “Which is odd but not automatically psychotic, I suppose.”

“Karen plotted a month before she made her move. This is the first time Maggie’s manifested. Well, first couple times. That’s inarguable.”

“Also true,” Rhys said.

“Remember how there were two types of wraiths during Lillian’s nap with Maggie?” Zeke was thinking aloud, pitching explanations until one seemed right. “That means two conduits. I saw an extra as well. What if one from Lillian’s time didn’t get shut down?”

“Maggie’s awake.” Most of the tension had left Rhys’s stance. Zeke could tell he no longer feared Maggie was about to sic a herd of zombies on them. “Any conduits she opened would have closed.”

“Multiples don’t always follow the rules,” Zeke reminded him. “They can linger if the dreamsphere barrier’s thin. Don’t you think a high-level neonati sleeping here for a month would have put a strain on it?”

“Malingerers,” Rhys said. “Wonderful.”

“Karen opened how many—forty? We can’t jump to conclusions. We’re talking about a woman’s life.”

“The woman would like to be part of the conversation about her life,” Maggie said.

“All right. I’m convinced.” Rhys lifted one hand higher, palm displayed. “As nasty as this latest batch of wraiths was, I expected to find both of you unconscious or dead. That didn’t exactly make me jump for joy. Forgive me for assuming the worst when I found you awake. And Maggie, I apologize for thinking you’d have the poor taste to sleep with Zeke.”

“I accept your apology,” Maggie said. “Are you going to apologize to Zeke?”

“Nope,” Rhys said with a broad grin, his teeth white against his face.

Zeke, relieved they could move past suspicion, sheathed his sword. “Have you phoned the base? We need to find out how this manifestation looked to the monitor.”

“I haven’t contacted anyone since we initiated the background check,” Rhys said. “Been a little preoccupied. Eight wraiths out back, ten upstairs. Clumps, but sporadic. One, then two, then three. Most of them made no effort to find Maggie. They just came after us. If Lill hadn’t been watching the brother, he’d be dead.”

Maggie laid the gun on the bed. “Did Hayden get hurt?”

“He’s not dead,” Rhys repeated. “He sleeps like the dead, though.”

Zeke tightened his sword belt. “Who’s with him now?”

“Lillian, in case he needs to be confounded.” Rhys eyed the backdoor, which was visible from Maggie’s bedroom. “The whole thing’s irregular. All these wraiths and now malingering conduits. How are we going to close them? ECT?”

“No thanks,” Maggie said.

“We can wait until they sync with Maggie’s wake-up. Shouldn’t be long.” With the initial pressure off, Zeke hustled into the rest of his clothes and checked for stakes, knives, throwing stars, guns, silencer, ammo. He didn’t want to resort to the ECT, but if wraiths continued to appear, that would be one solution—jolting the conduit closed, via Maggie.

And he’d pray she didn’t end up like Karen.

Rhys glanced at Maggie. Zeke was glad to see his second in command no longer looked merciless. “Miss Maggie, you sure are causing a lot of commotion.”

“Not on purpose,” she said. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

“That makes all of us.” Zeke grabbed his protective vest from the corner. All these manifestations so close together. He hadn’t listened to his instincts in Harrisburg, or anyone else’s concerns, and it had been a mistake. Right now, his instincts were telling him this wasn’t due to Maggie and he needed to search for clues.

“Put this on.” He offered the vest to her. She slipped into the bulky garment without protest, and he helped her with the fasteners. Unable to resist any longer, he caught her in a quick, one-armed hug. The vest armored her well.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered. “The manifestation period is probably over. You’re fully alert. Trancing takes a lot more training than you’ve had. But try not to think about monsters.”

And he’d try not to think about how HQ would react if he lost another L5 disciple.

“Right.” Maggie straightened, her gaze steeling. She tossed a plush, pink robe over the vest and slipped her feet into tennis shoes. After she scrambled through her purse and thrust her pepper spray into a pocket, she said, “I want a stake. And I want to see Hayden.”

He touched her cheek before handing her a weapon. She hefted the pointed stick, fear and determination warring on her face.

“What the hell?” Rhys exclaimed. “There’s another one, and it’s headed outside.”

He disappeared. Zeke heard another team member run across the porch.

Maggie clutched his arm as he moved to guard her. “I swear, I’m not thinking about... Okay, I am, but I wasn’t before.”

He gave the back of her neck a squeeze, hoping his touch could convey the message he didn’t have time to voice. “Let’s find your brother.”

On the second floor, eerily vacant, a wraith popped out of a bedroom and flew at them like a giant bat. Maggie screamed and hurled her stake, which missed by several feet. Zeke shoved her behind him.

The vamp closed on them, its clawed fingers extended. Zeke batted one hand away with the bracer on his jacket sleeve but was too late to stop it from grappling with him. Its talons raked his bandolier and caught on his radio, which smashed to the ground into pieces.

Hell. He hated the old walkies, but he needed it. He gripped the vamp’s arm and hurled the creature into the wall.

It thudded heavily. Pictures clunked to the floor. Before the creature gained its footing, he staked it from behind.

It exploded with a poof. This vamp didn’t have the same appearance as the ones from the alley. It was pale, hairless and dressed in black robes. Solo instead of part of a pack.

Must be the other type of wraith his teammates had mentioned, which made sense, since the second conduit Zeke had spotted had been the red, active one.

“What was that thing?” Maggie picked up her stake and pressed her back to the wall.

“You don’t know?” Generally neonati could identify the wraiths they’d created, whether they admitted it or not. The monsters were, after all, their own nightmares.

Maggie’s expression was anxious but contained no recognition. “Was it an alien?”

“Vampire.”

“Not any kind I’ve ever seen,” Maggie said with a shudder.

Zeke grunted. The vamp had been old style, more Nosferatu than Whedon. All the common monsters—and a lot of uncommon ones—had gone for his throat at some point. Media, myth and culture tended to shape the universal subconscious; manifestations were rarely a total surprise. Some Somnium employees’ entire jobs consisted of scanning horror movies and television to help field teams prepare. Thank God giant tarantulas and T-Rexes never appeared at full-size. Wraith bodies in the terra firma did have limits.

Glancing up and down the hallway, he took Maggie’s arm. His boot crunched a piece of the broken radio as they hurried off. They ascended a flight of stairs, a narrow corridor to the third floor.

“Maybe it was from an episode I didn’t see,” she whispered. “That vampire show ran seven or eight years and I’ve only caught reruns.” A door, partially splintered off its hinges, canted at the top of the stairs. Maggie groaned. “Right now I’m thinking home repairs, not monsters.”

“Sorry,” he told her, right before he kicked the door and sent it crashing into the room, hopefully dislodging any beasties behind it. There was nothing inside the large, jumbled area but tables full of computers, dusty windows, a pool table, a treadmill strewn with clothing, and tons of fast food bags. No vamps, no Lillian, no brother.

“Hayden’s bedroom overlooks the street.” Maggie pointed to a door at the end of the space. “This was Mom and Dad’s rec room.”

“Stay close.” He saw no signs of wraiths, not that anything would have shown in all the trash. “Jeez, this place is a wreck.”

From behind him, Maggie said, “I don’t clean here. It’s Hayden’s space.”

A crossbow, followed by Lillian, popped out the door Maggie had indicated. “Thought there was a vamp out here. They’re coming out of the woodwork.”

Maggie surged forward, sidestepping obstacles, and Lillian’s face creased into a smile.