Tangible (Dreamwalker) (6 page)

“She may have rather had a pie in the face,” Lillian said with laughter in her voice. “It worked on me.”

Maggie dabbed the dried blood on her neck. Because Zeke was so close, her elbow bumped him. “He mentored you?”

“No, but he led my field team,” Lillian said. “I freaked out too. Zeke doesn’t exactly have a delicate touch with neonati. New dreamers.”

“Didn’t have time for manners.” Zeke’s tone was stiff, his Southern accent at odds with the clipped phrases. “She coulda had kids waiting on her to come home.”

Maggie realized now how essential it had been to hunt down the monsters quickly. Her resistance had delayed them. Zeke’s kiss had convinced her she wasn’t imagining everything. She opened her mouth to assure everyone she wasn’t upset but they weren’t talking to her anymore.

“He has a tangible, Lill,” Rhys said. “He can’t keep his hands off her.”

Whatever that meant, Lillian sank into a chair and studied Zeke gravely. “That explains why you’ve been as ruffled up as a banty rooster. First neo out of retirement, Zeke, and you stumble across a pretty, high-level female.”

Zeke scoffed. “You act like I did it on purpose.”

“This would be easier if Maggie was Marvin.”

“Well, she’s not. She’s a she,” Zeke said crossly. His arm slipped from the back of the couch to Maggie’s shoulders like a confirmation.

“What does me being female have to do with it?” she asked, resisting the urge to snuggle against him.

Nobody answered, caught in some battle of their own.

Rhys crossed his arms. “The tangible makes things risky for him. He can’t do it.”

“Harder to switch her to a different mentor though,” Lillian pointed out. “Depends on how far the link has advanced.”

“It won’t have advanced that far yet. All he did was geolocate her. And it doesn’t matter. We have to switch her. He’s possessive already. I offered to train her and look at him.” Rhys threw up his hands. “He’s practically sitting on her.”

“Comforting her,” Zeke corrected. “I’m physically comforting someone who’s had a kick in the teeth. Like we learned in counseling, you assholes. You do this all the time with neos.” His hand tightened on Maggie’s shoulder.

Lillian and Rhys studied Zeke and, in passing, Maggie.

“This isn’t my fault,” Zeke said. “I’m doing my job.”

“HQ insists he start mentoring again,” Lillian mused. “There shouldn’t be a repeat of Harrisburg. We collared Maggie after the first manifestation, and nothing pinged in the medical history so far. And he’s going to be on his best behavior. I think he should do it.”

“What happened in Harrisburg?” Maggie demanded.

Rhys argued with Lillian instead of answering Maggie. “I know what HQ wants, but HQ’s not out here in the field. You or I have to teach her, Lillian. I don’t want to use the ECT on someone with her potential and I sure as hell don’t want to go begging a curator. If it makes you feel better, we can conference in the vigils and explain.”

“Hell no, you heard them this morning. They’ll insist I do it,” Zeke said. “You wanna get charged with double insubordination if we decide to do it another way?”

“Good point,” Rhys said. “I’d rather not have insubordination on my record.”

Lillian barked out a laugh. “Your record is not our first concern. Maggie is.”

“This is how it’s gonna be.” To Maggie, Zeke sounded begrudging, as if this weren’t the solution he wanted. “Lillian, you sleep with Maggie tonight. Keep her safe. Once you establish that link and tag her signature, nobody but a curator can take over. Let’s ask forgiveness, not permission. I’m making this call as team lead, so I’ll catch most of the shit.”

“It’s not that I’m not willing, but a phase one disciple limits me for field duty.” Lillian unsnapped and snapped the sleeve of her leather jacket. “Paulo’s on paternity leave. Who’s going to confound witnesses?”

“All the more reason for me to mentor her,” Rhys said. “I have an excellent track record with high-level alucinators. I only need one more to—”

“Can it, Rhys. Lillian’s on it,” Zeke ordered. “We might not even need a confounder if Lill processes Maggie out of nightly rotation in two weeks.”

“Lill’s best with an L4 is three weeks,” Rhys said. “I could do Maggie in two.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Maggie jumped off the couch and shoved her hair out of her face, wishing for a string or a rubber band. The bottle of antiseptic rolled across the floor. “Do I get a choice? Tell me what’s going to happen to me or...”

Or she’d kick them out? Beat them up? Call the cops?

“Or I’ll cry,” she finished.

“Christ,” Zeke muttered. Even big, scary Rhys flinched.

“Sorry, Maggie.” Lillian waved her back down on the couch, and Maggie was careful to sit so she wasn’t touching Zeke. “It’s a complex decision. We got carried away.”

“Not that I’m saying I like Zeke,” Maggie began, refusing to glance at him, “but I want you to explain in simple terms why he can’t mentor me if that’s what your boss ordered. I’m at risk too, I assume. I deserve to know.” She didn’t enjoy sharing a bed, but she couldn’t erase the image of Zeke sprawled on her white cotton sheets.

Naked.

Dammit.

“Because he wants to have sex with you,” Lillian said succinctly. Rhys smirked. Zeke sank his head into his hands and sighed.

Maggie’s face burned. “Excuse me?”

Lillian nodded. “We’re all adults here. No reason to beat around the bush. The mentor-disciple relationship is best when platonic. Just as with any business partnership, sex clouds the participants’ judgment. When you’re talking tangible bonds and high-level alucinators—which you are, Maggie—it’s even dicier. Clouded judgment is only the beginning.”

Maggie didn’t bother lying about how sexy Zeke was to her. “What’s a tangible bond?”

“Do you feel a tug in your skin when he’s near you?” Lillian asked. “As if your body and his are attracted. Not metaphorically, but by magnets.”

“Yes.” Maggie’s eyes widened as relief poured through her. “That’s a dreamer thing? Not something else?”

“What did you think it was?” Zeke asked with a slight smile.

“Static. Panic attack.”
Pure animal attraction.
“Something like that.”

“It’s caused by the two of you already having connected in the dreamsphere. It’s believed to have evolved so it’s easier to remain in physical contact while in the sphere, but it’s more complicated than that.” Lillian nodded. “In short, it’s best if you and I team up instead of you and Zeke.”

“You’ve got two disciples right now, Lill,” Rhys said. “Can you handle three?”

“If you can swing four, my friend, I can swing five. Three won’t even make me yawn.” Lillian grinned reassuringly at Maggie. “Do you have children? A husband? A lover who might object to your new bed buddy?”

Maggie glanced nervously at Zeke, who raised an eyebrow. She was a grown woman—a college professor. She shouldn’t be disconcerted by a frank question about her relationship status, not even in the presence of a man who embodied most of the sexual fantasies she’d ever had...and who hadn’t denied being attracted to her.

“Single, no kids, one brother, one sister, all adults.”

“That’s good news,” Lillian said. “Even better that you have no dependents. You can’t tell anyone what’s happened until we get you trained. Then you can file paperwork with our parent organization, the Somnium, requesting any specific disclosures you feel you need to make.”

It sounded like a museum. “Somnium?”

“Latin for dream,” Lillian said. “And yes, it’s been around that long. But you’ll get your history lesson later. You say you have a brother and sister?”

Her brain felt like it was spinning, not all that gently. “Hayden is my brother. He lives here part time but I don’t expect him home for several hours. He may be in DC for the night.” He didn’t exactly keep her apprised of his schedule. “I don’t know where my sister, Allyson, is. The last time I saw her was at the funeral.”

“Is your brother going to be a problem?” Zeke asked. “Husbands and wives are the worst, but siblings can be a pain in the ass too. Thank God kids don’t turn dreamer. Imagine that hassle.”

“Hayden shouldn’t be an issue,” she said, “as long as you don’t all plan to stay at the house.” She was having enough trouble grasping these huge shifts in her worldview without involving her brother. It was too much to absorb, paired so closely with losing her parents, but Zeke, Lillian and Rhys had all been through their version of this and survived.

She didn’t want to hear about the people who hadn’t.

“We prefer to relocate to a waystation or our central base for training,” Lillian told her. “Neonati are placed under night guard, and most mentors have other students. I’ll follow your lead in what you’d like to tell your brother. Our disciples—alucinators in training—find it easiest if they take a leave of absence.”

Since she was already on sabbatical from the university, Maggie shook her head. “I won’t need to do that.”

“If there’s anything else in your day to day life you need to handle—pets, responsibilities, bills, utilities, professional obligations, whatever—I’d advise you to make a list,” Lillian said. “For your safety and the safety of others, we have to start tonight.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” Maggie hadn’t exaggerated when she’d threatened to cry. Bursting into tears might relieve her building stress but would definitely be embarrassing. “I just met you. This is crazy. I don’t feel like I have enough time or proof for such a big commitment.”

By chance or fate, her life had little in it that would be disrupted, which didn’t mean this change was welcome. It was all so...permanent, when she wanted it gone and her life back to normal. Once she returned to her job, she’d have to juggle payments to this Somnium place along with her car loan, mortgage and occasional groceries. Even a woman whose brain created monsters had to eat.

Zeke slid down the sofa until he was in her space again, capturing her attention. Maggie refused to retreat. They stared at one another, and neither Rhys nor Lillian intruded.

In a low voice, Zeke said, “Are you a doctor? A physicist? Anything that makes you an authority on alternate dimensions?”

She could smell him. See tiny flecks of darker grey in his pale irises and a scar on his chin. Stupidly—stupidly—her spine softened as her body’s desires pushed her toward him.

“Um.” This was not the stance she needed against a man like Zeke—one used to command, used to having his way. University faculties had more than their fair share of alphas and egos. If she weren’t careful, she’d yield her throat, her underbelly, up for the taking.

She took a deep breath. “Technically, I am a doctor. I have a PhD in cultural geography.”

“The Somnium has spent centuries fighting wraiths, centuries figuring out how they’re created and how to kill them. How to deal with neonati, even when they resist. You’ve got all the proof you need. Believe us, Maggie. Believe everything we’re telling you and quit resisting. People die when dreamers don’t cooperate.”

“I’m going to cooperate,” she assured him. “That doesn’t mean this isn’t crazy.”

“Look at it this way.” Zeke eased away from her, pale eyes glinting. “It could be worse. You could be stuck with me.”

“I can see how that would be worse,” she said, almost smiling when he chuckled.

“Then it’s settled.” Lillian leaned forward and took Maggie’s hand. There was no extra sensation, no faint tug, just a firm handshake. “After Rhys takes you though the paperwork, we’ll get you fixed up. I promise not to hog the covers. I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve had a lot of practice sharing beds.”

Which meant Zeke probably had too. Had he been unable to keep his student-teacher relationships platonic in the past? Was that the issue? Was he
that
guy—the one who took advantage of the women he should be helping? None of her companions, including Zeke, seemed to trust him with her after that kiss.

She didn’t trust herself with Zeke after that kiss.

Chapter Four

Zeke lay awake in an upstairs bedroom, staring toward the ceiling fan that directed gentle gusts over the exposed parts of his body. Maggie’s house suffered from a common winter disorder of historic homes—stuffy on the top, chilly on the bottom. His room was no exception. The saggy bed was piled high with throw pillows—too narrow, reminding him he wasn’t supposed to be spending this night alone.

But he’d done the right thing, convincing Lillian to mentor Maggie. He hoped the two of them were sound asleep and connecting in the dreamsphere. Lillian was a gifted instructor—better than him by far. Maggie was a project, and Lillian was the best person for it.

The best person for Maggie.

The lust and jealousy he felt for Maggie weren’t real. Tangibles mimicked an intimate connection where there wasn’t one. Had he not been attracted to her, it wouldn’t have been as huge of a snag, but he was.

He would have wanted to get in her pants had she been dreamless. Not because she was pretty or had the kind of breasts and hips he liked—though she was and she did. But because she was quick-witted, fierce and adaptable. This transformation in her life had bent but not broken her, and she had rebounded. She’d come up swinging.