The Dawn of Dae (Dae Portals Book 1) (5 page)

My grave didn’t go to China or heaven. It led straight to the depths of hell.

“Mommy?” My macaroni and cheese was whining.

“No,” I replied.

“Mommy!”

“I said no. You’re not real.”

The front door of my apartment opened, and my other hallucination walked in. Rob was wearing the same suit, and I marveled at my brain’s ability to remain consistent while under the influence. He was smiling, his expression as smug as I remembered.

“That’s going to be interesting to clean up,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Why are you on the floor, Miss Daegberht?”

Rob watched the antics of my animated dinner and shook his head. I scowled. Why did a figment of my imagination have to reinforce the existence of animated macaroni and cheese and be so damned good looking in the process? I was torturing myself and, I knew it. In all honesty, it made sense; if a random stranger created by a mixture of hallucinogens and my brain was going to wander in and out of my apartment, of course I’d make him good looking—and old enough to be reliable, but young enough to still be interesting.

I wondered if I could get away with kissing him just to find out what it was like. Could a hallucination trigger my skin sensitivity?

I stared at the back of my hand. Was his kissing me another hallucination? I was free of redness, itching, rashes, hives, blisters, welts, or any one of the other common manifestations of my allergy.

Rob turned his attention to me, waiting for an answer.

I flushed. No matter what I said, I’d sound like an idiot, so I replied, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

It still seemed like a good idea. Until the drugs wore off, someone could lead me to the top of a skyscraper and tell me to walk off and I’d think it was a good idea. I probably wouldn’t even realize I was about to plunge to my death.

“You’re covered in cheese. I thought you should know.”

“Hallucinations should be seen not heard,” I complained, grumbling curses under my breath. Hallucination or not, there was no need to be rude to my guest—invader, really. “Did you get lost trying to find City Hall?”

“I’ve finished my business there. Thank you for the directions, Miss Daegberht. You were very helpful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things I must attend to. Do have a good morning, and take care of yourself. Remember, you belong to me now.” He strode across my kitchen to my refrigerator and stepped inside. He even shut the door behind him.

“What an asshole,” I muttered. It was a good thing he was gone. My imagination was pissing me off. Were all good-looking guys jerks? Was that really how I thought of men?

I sighed. Then I blinked as his words replayed in my memory.

Morning
?

I jumped to my feet, staggered, and fell against the counter, smearing the wet fake cheese all over the place. My kitchen lurched around me, and I shook my head to clear it of vertigo. I recovered far faster than I had any right to, considering how drugged I had to be to create a hot, older man and sentient macaroni and cheese.

I swayed on my way to the living room, snatching up my tablet with my orange-coated hands.

The device informed me it was a little after nine in the morning. I stared down at myself, registering the coating of neon-orange product all over me and my clothes. Maybe it was a hallucination, but I couldn’t leave feeling so filthy.

Spewing curses, I ran for the bathroom, shedding drying cheese as I went.

One of the perks of being a merit-based student was my apartment’s location. The front door of the building was directly across the street from the side entrance to the college. I could go to and from classes with little risk of encountering anyone, so long as I dodged the unending stream of cars heading deeper downtown.

I had exactly two minutes to make it from one side of the campus to the other if I wanted to be on time and prove to Terry Moore and Kenneth Smith I wasn’t to be taken lightly—and that I was capable of overcoming anything the drugs threw at me, including the miniature three-headed giraffe crossing the street with me.

“Good morning,” I mumbled in the off chance it was a real person.

“Top of the morning to you, Miss,” it chorused, dipping all three of its heads. Two were wearing top hats between their horns. The third wore a tiara.

My imagination had a fixation on the British, apparently. Rob hadn’t seemed like quite as dapper a fellow, but I recognized the similarities—except for his belief I was his property.

I wondered what that said about me.

Breaking into a sprint as soon as I navigated through traffic, I beelined for the main administrative building. I made it without running into anyone, which surprised me. Mind-altering drugs had a tendency to erase reality and replace it entirely.

Melting walls, ghostly figures, and noises only I could hear had been a way of life before I had gotten clean. The realism of my hallucinations without the numbing high of the narcotics accompanying them disconcerted me.

I made it to the steps of the administrative building with thirty seconds to spare. A menagerie clustered on the steps. A cat taller than me stood on its hind legs, talking to Canadian geese with human faces. I wasn’t sure what language they were speaking, but it wasn’t English. To my disappointment, it wasn’t nearly as sensual as the language Rob had used.

I dodged them, earning a couple of glares from the other strange critters my brain had conjured.

A werewolf with pink wings crouched by the doubled doors, watching me with yellow eyes. Wisps of smoke coiled from its nose. I wiggled through the crowd, determined to make it to the dean’s office without betraying the fact I was on some sort of drug.

I made it two steps into the building before I bumped into the dean.

He was still a human, although his eyes had turned a vivid purple. Red rimmed his pupils, and he stared down his nose at me before checking his watch. “Right on time. Good. Go to my office and wait there.”

I bobbed my head, shuffled by him, and strode down the hallway.

Halfway to the dean’s office, a panda with a feathered crest and vestigial wings attempted to climb the wall, pawing at a potted bamboo dangling from the ceiling. Since my hallucinations seemed linked with real people, I figured it was safe enough to greet the panda—and its potted friend. I said, “Good luck with that.”

The panda huffed and flipped its middle finger at me.

Since I was on a roll, I stared up at the bamboo plant and added, “Let’s hang around sometime.”

“Sure,” the plant chirped.

Maybe I could be taught how to cling to the ceiling like that; it seemed like a useful skill in my line of work. If Kenneth had his way, it’d be my only line of work. The thought soured my mood, and clenching my teeth, I marched down the hall.

Terry Moore was waiting by the dean’s office. Like the dean, he still looked human, although his eyes burned; flames roiled in place of his irises. Heat radiated from him, and I halted a discreet distance away.

Maybe the heat or the changes to his eyes weren’t real, but I’d perceive the pain. I’d learned that lesson long ago. If I started screaming because of non-existent burns, everyone would know something was up.

Once the hallucinations subsided, I was going to sit down and have a long talk with Kenneth about how his stunt negatively affected my ability to do his dirty work. If what I was on was anything like the other drugs I’d taken before I’d gotten my head out of my ass, I’d be seeing things for months—maybe years.

“I told you not to come,” he snapped.

His breath smelled of smoke. I shivered, resisting the urge to pinch my nose closed. “What can I say? I’d like to finish my Bach studies. Suck it up, pretty boy. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

One day I’d learn taunting the elite wasn’t wise. Maybe.

Terry Moore scowled. “And what, exactly, do you think I might learn from you?”

“Basic math skills,” the dean said from directly behind me. “You are in no position to criticize Miss Daegberht, Mr. Moore. You hold the dubious honor of having the lowest allowable grade here. I recommend adjusting your attitude, else you will be restarting your Bach studies from year one. No matter how many donations you give to the college, I will not permit you to graduate to Master studies if you can’t demonstrate a full spectrum of skills. Don’t make your crowning achievement here alienating one of the few individuals who might be able to turn you into something other than a waste of air.”

When Terry snorted, a plume of black smoke burst from his nose and shrouded his face before rising to the ceiling in a cloud. It stank of rotten eggs.

Throwing up wouldn’t earn me any points, although if I did, maybe I could claim sickness was responsible for my odd behavior. I swallowed several times to force my stomach to settle.

“If I were you, Mr. Moore, I would be grateful for the opportunity to convince Mr. Smith you are an asset to his business rather than a liability.” Opening the door to his office, the dean waved us inside. I waited for Terry, careful to keep out of his way so I wouldn’t get burned. He took the seat he had before.

It smoked beneath him, and the fumes of burning hair strangled me. While tempted to breathe out of my mouth, I coped.

Kenneth was waiting for us, perched on the edge of the dean’s desk. There was a young man with him who reminded me of my boss in so many ways, right down to the way he smirked.

“You took your time,” Kenneth stated, his tone devoid of emotion. I tensed, my gaze shifting to my boss’s mouth. His cheek twitched from how hard he clenched his teeth, and he scowled. Picking up a thick stack of papers, my boss slapped it against the dean’s desk. “I want basic information about the people on this list. Their full name, current status, gender, caste, current rank, grades, and study focus will do.”

“Mr. Smith, this college is not a private investigating service,” the dean replied, and he growled, sounding far more like an animal than a man.

The young man with my boss straightened, flexing his hands.

Kenneth tossed the papers onto the empty chair beside Terry. “I’ll settle for whether or not the individuals went missing this morning. There are a notable number of your students in that mess, so I thought it would be wise to use your resources. In exchange, I can provide the same information on some of your more important donors.”

People were missing? I straightened, staring at the stack out of the corner of my eye. What was going on?

I cursed myself for not having had time to check the news before leaving my apartment. At least I wasn’t covered in imaginary neon-orange cheese. Once I escaped the dean’s office, I would have to look into what was going on.

The way the dean frowned promised trouble for someone. Brushing by me, the older man snatched up the sheets, flipping through them. “Since classes are cancelled, I suppose you can make use of my students for the interim, Mr. Smith. I will expect your complete list by the end of the week.”

Kenneth narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, I feared he’d pull out his gun and be done with the dean then and there. When he smiled, he lacked his normal warmth.

While my boss often worried me, he’d never made me chill from the inside quite so much. The young man beside him cleared his throat and said, “The end of the week seems right acceptable to me.”

“Fine. End of the week,” Kenneth grumbled.

The dean offered the stack of papers to me. In my hurry to leave my apartment, I had forgotten my gloves, and I grimaced at how red my hand was compared to the bleached white of the sheets. “Deal with this.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, tucking the stack under my arm without looking over their contents. “Is there anything else you require of me?”

“Take Mr. Moore with you, and see if you can make use of him, somehow.” The dean snapped his fingers and gestured to the door.

I marched out, relieved to escape my boss’s presence, although I loathed the idea of having to dodge Terry and his excessive radiant heat. At least I wouldn’t have too difficult of a time pulling basic information on people. It was the most tedious of the basic of work. Maybe while sniffing around I’d find out why a bunch of people were missing.

Kenneth had probably concocted the assignment to make use of me while waiting for my downfall. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were the reason for the disappearances—if anyone was actually missing at all. It was like him to set a trap, lure his victims into it, and wait for the fireworks. I sighed, and without waiting for Terry, I headed for the administrative building’s main entrance.

The feathered panda was still trying to climb the walls to get at the potted bamboo, who catcalled its pursuer. Their dispute quieted at my approach.

“Some bloke was looking for you,” the plant said, pointing its leaves towards the front doors.

“Thanks,” I replied, wondering who would be looking for me and why.

Terry’s heat warned me he was approaching me from behind. Turning to face him, I secured my hold on the papers the dean had given me. He made a grab for them. His heat drove me back, and he pursued me all the way to the foyer, snarling something unintelligible under his breath.