of these and close your eyes.” She held up a headset. “Not as cool as a dreamjack, but it’ll do the trick. Rook had the system configured for me yesterday, so we know it works. At first, you’ll feel like you’re falling, a sensation of fluidity, and then you’ll find yourself in the city. When you want to wake, just try, and you’ll break free of the waters. It might give you a moment of worry, but after once or twice, you’ll get the hang of it, no problem. So…one of you goes, and when it’s time to trade off—you decide when—then the other can go.”
Gary took both headsets in hand. “It does sound easy. I think we can handle it, but what if something goes wrong? Can we wake one of you?”
She frowned. “None of the rest of us will be in our natural dreamscapes, so we won’t be able to wake, no.”
“Maybe I should go first,” Eleanor said to Gary. “You keep watch.”
“No one knows we’re here,” Jordan reminded them. “We’ve been very careful. I wouldn’t go to the concert if I had any doubts.”
Eleanor’s chin trembled—could’ve been in anger or sadness. “I believe you,” she said. “If the Oneiros knew where we were, where Harlen was, they’d have struck here instead.”
Jordan agreed. They’d killed Director Bright and burned down a house. They’d do anything to secure their vision of the future.
“Well, I think that’s it.” She looked into their stricken faces. They were trying so hard to hide their feelings. “Any questions?”
“We’re good,” Gary said. “Be careful at that concert, young lady.”
Jordan tried a smile. “I will be.”
She rose and headed back to the bedroom to lie down next to Rook. Harlen’s parents were going to take the pull-out sofa. Since one or both would be up part of the night, it seemed the best arrangement.
She dug through her duffel, finding a pair of clean sweats to sleep in. She dodged into the bathroom to brush her teeth really quickly and wash her face. When she finally climbed into bed next to Rook, she didn’t lie flat on her back but tucked herself into Rook’s side—he was so warm and he smelled good.
“Please be safe,” she whispered in his ear. No matter how tightly she held on to him, he was still far away.
She closed her eyes, her heart beating faster. “It’s only a concert,” she reminded herself. “I’ll be one of thousands.”
Nevertheless, she was still afraid. And growing more so with every second that passed.
CHAPTER SIX
Harlen had never proxied a woman before, and he hated that he would ride, of all people, Sera. Soft, sweet Sera—who’d just threatened to fillet the Middle Man like a fish. Harlen hadn’t wanted the proxy to work. He hadn’t wanted her to carry his weight. Hadn’t wanted her in the black market or scouting for nightmares. Even if she wanted to help him and was tough enough to handle it.
But the Oneiros had burned down his parents’ house.
And so here he was, doing something he would’ve never before considered. It made him wonder not what the world was coming to but what he was coming to. And what he was willing to do. If he didn’t draw the line here, with proxying the woman he loved, where in the proverbial sand would he draw it? Scrape sand blew all lines away.
He shuddered, his mind rebelling.A symptom of the proxy—the primal fight between the dichotomy of selves: him-not her. As in the past, his senses were confused. She was short, for one; the ground was too damn close. But also, color was both reversed and hypersaturated. The fusion of their dreams was hot and bright. Part of that was his anger.
Burned down the house? Ma and Pop might be feeling mostly thankful that everyone was okay and safe, a typical Ma-and-Pop response. But no . The Oneiros were going to pay.
He knew Sera was just as upset when he’d witnessed the husk of Ma’s burned-out kitchen before Sera replaced it with a vision of her second restaurant. Nice try, sweetheart.
Gary took both headsets in hand. “It does sound easy. I think we can handle it, but what if something goes wrong? Can we wake one of you?”
She frowned. “None of the rest of us will be in our natural dreamscapes, so we won’t be able to wake, no.”
“Maybe I should go first,” Eleanor said to Gary. “You keep watch.”
“No one knows we’re here,” Jordan reminded them. “We’ve been very careful. I wouldn’t go to the concert if I had any doubts.”
Eleanor’s chin trembled—could’ve been in anger or sadness. “I believe you,” she said. “If the Oneiros knew where we were, where Harlen was, they’d have struck here instead.”
Jordan agreed. They’d killed Director Bright and burned down a house. They’d do anything to secure their vision of the future.
“Well, I think that’s it.” She looked into their stricken faces. They were trying so hard to hide their feelings. “Any questions?”
“We’re good,” Gary said. “Be careful at that concert, young lady.”
Jordan tried a smile. “I will be.”
She rose and headed back to the bedroom to lie down next to Rook. Harlen’s parents were going to take the pull-out sofa. Since one or both would be up part of the night, it seemed the best arrangement.
She dug through her duffel, finding a pair of clean sweats to sleep in. She dodged into the bathroom to brush her teeth really quickly and wash her face. When she finally climbed into bed next to Rook, she didn’t lie flat on her back but tucked herself into Rook’s side—he was so warm and he smelled good.
“Please be safe,” she whispered in his ear. No matter how tightly she held on to him, he was still far away.
She closed her eyes, her heart beating faster. “It’s only a concert,” she reminded herself. “I’ll be one of thousands.”
Nevertheless, she was still afraid. And growing more so with every second that passed.
CHAPTER SIX
Harlen had never proxied a woman before, and he hated that he would ride, of all people, Sera. Soft, sweet Sera—who’d just threatened to fillet the Middle Man like a fish. Harlen hadn’t wanted the proxy to work. He hadn’t wanted her to carry his weight. Hadn’t wanted her in the black market or scouting for nightmares. Even if she wanted to help him and was tough enough to handle it.
But the Oneiros had burned down his parents’ house.
And so here he was, doing something he would’ve never before considered. It made him wonder not what the world was coming to but what he was coming to. And what he was willing to do. If he didn’t draw the line here, with proxying the woman he loved, where in the proverbial sand would he draw it? Scrape sand blew all lines away.
He shuddered, his mind rebelling.A symptom of the proxy—the primal fight between the dichotomy of selves: him-not her. As in the past, his senses were confused. She was short, for one; the ground was too damn close. But also, color was both reversed and hypersaturated. The fusion of their dreams was hot and bright. Part of that was his anger.
Burned down the house? Ma and Pop might be feeling mostly thankful that everyone was okay and safe, a typical Ma-and-Pop response. But no . The Oneiros were going to pay.
He knew Sera was just as upset when he’d witnessed the husk of Ma’s burned-out kitchen before Sera replaced it with a vision of her second restaurant. Nice try, sweetheart.
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