Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

When she reached the top, she heard the crow caw from the roof of the building. The cold, pale glow from a streetlight shone through the grimy windows, casting shadows throughout the large room, which was filled with sheet-covered furniture. A tall, dark figure leaned beside one of the windows, arms crossed, watching her. It was Michael. He stood very still, nearly invisible in his black clothes, his sword at his side.

She sheathed her sword and took a deep breath.

“Hello, Michael,” she whispered.

“Hello.”

“This is a little different setting from the one you chose last time we dreamed together,” Erin said. She walked over to a sheet-covered chair and sat down.

“I didn’t know if you even remembered that. It’s not surprising I would bring us somewhere else.”

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“Several reasons.” He looked out the window to the alley below. “You haven’t been honest with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re involved with Gary Arthur.”

Erin frowned. “In my day life.”

“It’s all one life, Erin,” he said. His face was in the shadows, his voice grim. “And you’ve seen him at least once in his dreams. Maybe more.”

Her stomach lurched, and she thought back, remembering the dream she had just the other night, with Bagley holding the knife to her throat. She shuddered. Who had Gary and Bagley been waiting for? “Yes, I have. I told you that.”

Michael pushed away from the wall, pulled up a chair close to her, and straddled it. “I warned you before about the danger of going to him. He has control in his dreams, not you. And since he knows you during the day, he will limit your abilities in his dreams. You may not have any strength.”

“I know this,” Erin said. “I’ve handled it. Besides, when I last saw him, he seemed to know my strengths. I think he knows how to use the dreams.”

The crow on the roof cawed twice, and Michael lifted his head to listen a moment.

His voice grew angry. “Why do you say that? What did he do?”

“You don’t need to get upset. Gary purposely changed my outfit, and he laughed about it.”

“What? How did this happen?”

“I think he was just joking around. I was drawn to the house where he and Bagley were hiding in the basement. They were waiting for someone and had mistaken me for that person. Fortunately, they realized their mistake before they slit my throat.” She rubbed her neck.

Michael’s eyes flashed. “Damn it, Erin. Do you think they were playing a game? Who do you think they were waiting for?”

She shook her head.

“They were waiting for me. It was my throat they were going to slit.”

Erin’s mouth dropped open, and she stood up. “You’re crazy. Why would they want to harm you? They don’t even know you.”

“They know me very well. I have been a viator for both for more than a year now.”

“What? I didn’t know that. But it doesn’t make any sense—why would they want to hurt you?”

“Sometimes a dreamer will bargain with mortifers against us. Mortifers can grant some benefits for a dreamer in the waking world—they can help people get what they want. And when people conspire with those demons, they open the doors of darkness into our world. It threatens everyone. The other night when Arthur and Bagley ambushed you, I felt called to that dream but didn’t go. You must have felt his call because of your relationship with him, and so you went instead.” Michael scowled and looked away.

She shook her head. “You’re saying that Gary is in league with mortifers? He wanted to hurt you? I can’t believe that—I know Gary—he wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“You don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

“This is ridiculous.” Erin started to walk away. “He’s a good man. What you say is impossible. What do you have against him?”

Michael jumped up and pulled her around to face him. “Don’t be a fool. I’ve been dealing with his nightmares for more than a year. I know what’s in his soul.”

Erin pushed him away.
This couldn’t be true.
Her mind flashed back, remembering Gary holding Gwen, his help when Matt was hurt, his tender kisses, his thoughtful gifts. “You only see one side of him. You haven’t seen how he helped my kids when they were hurt, how concerned he was when his friend was shot. You haven’t seen how good he is and how much he cares for us. I know him, and he loves me.”

Michael winced. “You’re only seeing what you want to see. What he wants to show you. You know why he was so upset when Bagley was shot? He knew he’d be next. His business is corrupt and he’s in trouble.”

Outside the crow cawed again.

“You don’t know this. You don’t even know him in real life. How can you say these things? I don’t believe you.”

“Shit, Erin—are you so infatuated with that fucking liar that you’ve lost your reason? Don’t be such a fool.”

She struck him across the face. Michael’s cheek turned red, and he stood still for a moment, eyes wide staring into hers. He turned around and strode toward the window. At that moment Erin caught a whiff of a sweet, rotting smell, and she pulled her sword from its sheath.

Tall and cold, five mortifers burst into the room, and their harsh laughter crashed like waves in front of them. Erin whirled around and thrust her sword at the first shadow. It wavered, and another brought its sword down, meeting her blade. Cold air hit her in the face and filled the room. She staggered back.

Michael rushed at them with his sword ready and pushed them back. Erin held her breath and swung her blade hard, slicing a shadow’s neck. Its high-pitched wail echoed through the room and it slumped to the floor, dissipated, and was gone. With her sword in both hands, she lunged and struck one that was attacking Michael. It twisted around and thrust its sword into her face just as she ducked out of its way. She slashed her blade straight up through its body, and it shot apart and disappeared while its shriek filled the room.

Michael’s sword flashed through the air, and another shadow was gone. He pulled out his knife and fought with both hands. A mortifer’s blade darted through his defense and sliced him—blood oozed from his arm and soaked his ripped jacket. The shadow laughed and attacked again with its blade overhead. Erin threw herself at his attacker, and it turned and brought its sword up against hers, wrenching it out of her grasp, sending it flying beyond her reach. She kicked it in the gut, and it staggered backwards, while Michael thrust his sword through its back. It lingered in the air a moment, then screamed and was gone. The last mortifer rushed at Erin, swinging its sword—she jumped back, but its blade grazed her torso and sliced through her clothes and skin. Fiery pain burned through her, and the room spun. It thrust again and she staggered away, struggling to keep standing. Michael leapt onto its back, and it threw him over its head and he crashed to the floor. It turned toward Erin and she ducked, then danced out of its reach. Michael was up in an instant. The shadow swung its blade at Erin again, then turned and slashed at Michael who stopped its thrust and pressed it back with his sword. It broke free and lunged, knocking Michael’s sword into the air. He dove to the floor so the next blow went wide. The mortifer turned to attack Erin as Michael scrambled after his sword. He rose from the floor, jumping on its back, and pulled his blade across its throat. It fell forward on top of Erin, its cold blackness flowing around her. The rotting smell was overwhelming, numbing her and filling her with nausea before it blew away, as the shadow’s wail of despair faded to an echo.

Erin struggled to her feet and doubled forward, shaking, trying to protect the sliced skin across her stomach with her arms. She tried to catch her breath, and cold sweat dripped into her eyes. Michael rose from the ground. He was breathing hard and fast, and his dark eyes were filled with fury. He stepped toward her with his sword still tight in his hand. She backed away from him until she hit the wall. His eyes were black as he stared into her, blood splattered across his face and clothes, dripping from his arm. Fear pounded through her, and she stared back into his eyes, shivering and gasping. His sword clattered to the floor. He grabbed her arms, pulled her tight against him, and kissed her.

She tasted salty blood from his mouth and felt his heart pounding as hard and fast as hers. His pine scent filled her, driving out the sick sweet stench of the shadows. She stopped shaking. When he finally pulled away, he picked his sword up off the floor, turned around, and strode to the door.

“Damn it all to hell!” he yelled, and he threw his sword through the air. It hit the far wall and stuck. He ran out the door, down the stairs, and was gone.

*****

Erin opened her eyes to darkness. The moon had set, and no light shone through her window. She lay still, filled with grief, her body aching. All her pain blended together.

Finally she rolled over to look at the clock on her nightstand and gasped as she moved. Her stomach. She eased her way out of bed, flipped on the light, and pulled up her shirt. A bright red wound stretched horizontally across her abdomen. She sucked in a breath, her eyes wide.

“Mommy?” Gwen whispered as she opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, come in,” Erin said. “What are you doing awake?”

Gwen climbed into the bed, and Erin snuggled against her, wincing at the touch against her body. “I had a bad dream,” Gwen said.

Erin caressed her daughter’s hair. “Tell me about it, honey.”

“Matt and I were at the fair, and we were on the rides. I wanted to go on the Ferris wheel, and he didn’t want to, but he said if I went on the roller coaster, he would. So I went on the roller coaster, but I fell out. And I fell and fell, and then I woke up.” Gwen snuggled closer and rubbed her eyes.

Erin was grateful it was such a simple dream. She kissed the top of Gwen’s head. “It was only a dream, sweetie. Everything’s all right. Let’s think of something happy to get your mind off of it.”

“Okay,” Gwen said. “Julie’s getting a new kitten tomorrow. Can I go over and see it?”

“Yes, of course.” Erin started to gently rub Gwen’s back, and Gwen was quiet for a few minutes.

“Did you have a bad dream, too?” Gwen asked.

Tears filled Erin’s eyes. “Yes, I did.”

“Tell me.” Gwen’s eyes were closed, and Erin was sure she’d be asleep in a minute.

“All right. I went into a big building and went upstairs. Michael Woodward was there, and we had an argument. Then some bad guys came and we fought them. We won, and then Michael left.”

“Hmm. It’s good you won. Was he still mad at you?” Gwen asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s too bad. But it was only a dream. It’ll all be better in the morning,” Gwen said.

“Yes, you’re right.”

Gwen closed her eyes and was soon asleep. Erin watched her daughter breathe peacefully.

She made sure Gwen was covered with the blankets and tried to sleep. But the fury in Michael’s eyes and the bloody taste of his mouth came back to her mind as soon as she closed her eyes. He had kissed her. And he was so furious with her that he had thrown his sword away. It made her sick to think of his anger. She wanted to sob.

It was only a dream. She touched her stomach, feeling the stinging pain of the wound.
This was more than just a dream.

Gwen murmured in her sleep, and Erin stroked her hair. Could these dreams be real, as Michael had said? Memories of her other dreams began to flood back to her: The time Michael rescued her and carried her to the boat, when she first met him in his cabin and had held a knife to his throat, the feeling of his rough face against her cheek, dancing with him under the singing stars. Tears filled her eyes.

She remembered following William at his death and the mortifer that had attacked her there. If only she had been able to bring William back. She had run away, and she had left him to his death. If she could find her way back, surely she could have helped him, too. She had utterly failed him.

She imagined Michael’s face again: blood splattered, eyes black with anger. So much sorrow washed through her she could hardly bear it.

More dreams came to her mind: rescuing Carolyn, helping Franny and Paul, and many more. She remembered Bruce in the stone tower, healing him with the golden liquid from her flask. She remembered the man who had soothed her on the riverbank after she had fled William and the mortifer: a small man, brown hair and eyes, and so very kind. She remembered how he had taken her hand and led her to a bright garden in the sunshine, with fountains and birds singing in blossoming trees. She realized now that it was Domus—he had brought her to Domus for the first time and taught her to fight the mortifers and how to care for the dreamers. Why had she never remembered this before?

What about Gary?

Could what Michael said be true? Gary waiting in ambush to kill him? She didn’t want that to be possible.

She opened her eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. Gwen breathed softly beside her. In the morning, she would call Gary and tell him they needed to talk. She needed to find out the truth. And she would go see Michael.

Chapter 46

“Arthur here.”

“Gary? It’s Erin,” she said into the phone. Matt and Gwen were at the kitchen table finishing their breakfast, and Erin was on her third cup of coffee already. Her thoughts had kept her awake the rest of the night.

“Erin? Jeez, what time is it? I overslept. Shit. I’m late. I’m glad you called. I’ve got to go,” he said.

“Wait,” she said. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“What about?”

“I need to see you soon. Today, if you can get away. I’ll come there.”

“Hey, I’d love to see you today, but I can’t. I’ve got to catch a flight to New York at noon.”

“I didn’t know you were going to New York.”

“It was sudden.”

“When do you come back?”

“Friday. Friday afternoon. Why don’t I drive up straight from the airport, and we can have dinner?”

“That sounds fine,” Erin said.

They were both silent for a minute.

“I’ve got to run,” Gary said.

“Yes. Have a good trip.”