Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Page 35

  “We don’t know the King is dead,” commented Kyrri in a low voice, curling up next to Gina. She stroked his fur with her fingernails, smoothing the areas that had been matted down by his armor as he purred and twisted to give her access to places that itched.

  “We have to assume he is, Kyrri, but I hope you’re right,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. The Cat’s purr softened, but he made no other response.

  “There are five of us now,” said Agni, standing. “We should double up on watches, especially now that we know we are still being actively pursued.”

  Morgan nodded, sitting casually beside Gina on his own cloak. “I think that’s wise,” he remarked. “You’re pretty much caught up. That’s our story.”

  “Well, except for the part where we gave Nikolai everything we owned in exchange for the horses,” added Toma sheepishly. “We only have 10 dinieri each, so we won’t be much use for supplies.”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” replied Gina, unbuckling her coin pouch from her belt and tossing the heavy bag at Toma, who caught it, surprised.

  “Do you know how to get where we’re going?” asked Agni.

  She bit her lip, and the path lit up in front of her eyes again. “Yes,” she said, waving the image away. “Six days southeast out of Gak, through the desert, probably less if we find more horses.”

  “No point in catching the caravan then,” offered Toma, who was carefully laying his fur out and brushing off the ubiquitous sand. “They’re headed south, but not east, and they’ll probably be gone anyway by the time we get back.”

  Morgan nodded and looked up at Gina; their eyes met and she felt that electric current again, but held his gaze. “Time for your story,” he said, and she barely registered his voice over the volume of his eyes.

  “Plenty of time,” she agreed. “That’ll be tomorrow.” Truth be told, Gina was exhausted. Maintaining her walls after so much time without the need had tapped her energy and run it dry, and the thought of retelling the bloody path she and her companions had traveled made her eyelids feel even heavier. “So, your Pan is my Crowell,” she continued, aiming the subject away from herself. “Unbelievable.”

  “And I’m the only reason he went after you,” replied Morgan, his face shadowed. “I’m so sorry.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think he needs a reason to do anything. If he’d found me first, I’m sure it would have been the same outcome.” She frowned, remembering Crowell’s awful hand on hers at the palace wall, preventing her from touching the stone. “He actually saved my life,” she mused. “Maybe more than once,” she added, thinking of the two vivisected bodies being devoured by the horrific black trees in the clearing, and shook her head. “I don’t understand it.”

  “He protects his investments,” growled Agni, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You had an open deal, and he got what he wanted. Kurenas dead, and the land unprotected.” He pounded his fist into the sand in an impotent show of rage. “He always gets the last laugh.” Kyrri stretched himself out and got languidly to his feet, bumping the surprised Agni with his head and curling halfway on his lap. The scarred man’s face turned from rage to confusion, and he patted Kyrri robotically on the head before letting his hand relax into the Cat’s soft fur.

  “How do you know so much about him?” asked Morgan.

  “I am Agni, son of Skula,” the scarred man murmured, his rage dissipating as he stroked Kyrri’s fur. “My father was a great man. I worshipped the ground he walked as a child.” He took a ragged breath and continued stroking Kyrri, who was looking up at him, thoughtful. “A stranger came to the house, a visitor, which wasn’t unusual. He was tall and looked like a lion, with a wild mane of brown hair and disturbing eyes - as a child, I could see the yellow glint when he blinked, and I was afraid of him. You know him by your names, but I only knew him by the nicknames people gave him in the shadows. The Crawling Mist. The Faceless One. The Trickster. The Howler in the Dark. The Yellow-Eyed King. And a thousand more than that.” He gritted his teeth, and his gaze looked faraway, watching a long-gone scene in his memory. “I don’t know the details of the deal he made, but I saw the aftermath. At first, there was wealth, untold wealth, and my family rejoiced in it. But one by one, people around us fell ill, competitors died untimely deaths, and the village began to realize that it was my family bringing the curse upon the city.” He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. “The viziers of the city rounded up my family, my father and mother, my brothers, and my sister, and set them all ablaze in the center of the city. I alone escaped.” He raised a hand to hover above the longest, deepest scar, the one that ran down his left eye and across his cheek. “I can still hear their screams when I fall to sleep,” he whispered, and looked up at Gina with haunted eyes. “I have searched for that monster since that day. The ancient one does not make deals except to amuse himself, and they all end in blood and ashes.”

  Gina reached to the side and covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry that happened, Agni,” she murmured. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I dealt with him. I didn’t know what he was. I was just afraid of losing Kyrri.”

  Agni nodded at her and resumed stroking Kyrri’s fur when she withdrew her hand. “He preys on that fear,” he whispered. “And if there is no fear to prey on, he creates it. Famine, poverty, disease, death. He stirs the pot and swoops in to feast on the vulnerable for his own enjoyment.”

  “Toma and I will take first watch,” offered Morgan, and Agni nodded, seeming pleased at the subject change.

  “Wake me when you begin to tire,” he ordered. “I require very little sleep, as does the feline.”

  Kyrri mewed in response, but didn’t appear to argue. He flipped onto his back and let the mercenary stroke his fluffy underbelly.

  “Okay,” replied Gina, her eyelids heavy as she reclined on the sand, enjoying the last warmth of the day. “I’m just going to drift off,” she announced with a yawn, but pointed at Morgan. “Don’t disappear on me. You’d better be here when I wake up.”

  “Always,” he promised, and his gaze was soft. The butterflies fluttered in her stomach, but the heaviness of the day pressed on her, and she closed her eyes, reaching out experimentally to feel for the mental presence of her companions before she replaced the sole missing brick in her wall, and allowed herself to sink into sleep.

  67

  Victor Dobre opened his silver eyes, blinking against the darkness in his sealed room. He sat up carefully, twisting his head this way and that to check his balance and his senses. The damage unwittingly done by Gina’s emergency message seemed undone, but the man took it slow to be sure. Hanagawa had made it explicitly clear that he needed to be ready for anything.

  He slid to the edge of the bed and bounced lightly on his toes before standing fully, the edges of the room’s furnishings clarifying themselves as his pupils reached full dilation. It was a spartan room, with only a small bed and an end table against one wall. There was a jar and a clock on the table, the jar holding a few cups of soil from his native Romania. He smiled looking at it, faint strains of old world music lingering in his ears. It was a strange installation in the sparsely furnished room, having been given to him as a cruel joke by Ms. Parker, though she had to explain the punchline to him. Apparently she was under the impression that he slept in a coffin lined with soil from his homeland, though by now she was certainly aware that the other movie clichés had little effect on him. She’d worn endless crosses around him and her breath had reeked of garlic for the first several months. Charlene Parker was an intelligent woman, and he knew she didn’t really believe any of those things would affect him; he was, however, certain that she enjoyed reminding him of his true nature whenever the opportunity presented itself. Having to train her had been… difficult, and they were both relieved when she passed her final tests and graduated from his care. Still, the first time he unscrewed the mason jar, he’d been accosted with pleasant memories of his old life along with the scent of the dirt, and it ple
ased him. Regardless of intent, it was the kindest gift he ever remembered receiving, and his memory was long.

  He stretched his body, feeling his spine crack one vertebra at a time. Victor Dobre no longer needed sleep, but he could force an unconsciousness in which he healed at a faster rate than normal humans. He sighed and began dressing mechanically. Normal humans, echoed the thought and he snarled at the empty room. They’re no more normal than I am.

  Victor opened the door and scowled against the light seeping in through the dark shades. Coming from the near-absolute darkness of his bedroom, even this scant sunlight accosted his eyes, and he shaded them with his hand with little effect. Outside was even worse, and he sprinted to the main building, crossing the distance with incredible speed. He rarely displayed his skills in the light of day, but the campus appeared empty, and the sunlight baked his pallid skin. Though not fatal, it was certainly unpleasant, and it seared his eyes even through the lids.

  He navigated the echoing hallways quickly, his shoes sounding louder than normal in the empty corridors. Victor was unsettled, and he searched his mind for the cause, finding nothing. He eventually chose to chalk it up as a lingering effect of Gina’s unintentional attack as he arrived in front of his office door, opening it to see the small Japanese man clicking away at the keyboard.

  Hanagawa looked up, surprised, and his lips spread into a tight smile. “All well?” he asked.

  “I am well, thank you,” Victor replied. The man’s back was hunched over the keyboard, and his shoulders were full of tension. “What has happened?”

  “Nothing good,” answered the man, his jaw tight. “I’ve received over a dozen more credible reports of high strangeness - the dead walking in Minnesota, mass hallucinations - I hope - in Manitoba, large animal attacks in Tiajuana and New Mexico, more. Lycanthrope attacks in Atlanta. Vampire clans in L.A have started an all-out gang war. Everything, everywhere.” He glanced up to meet Victor’s gaze and his eyes were dark and flat. “It’s like someone sounded a hunting horn for everything dark to attack humanity at once.”

  “No luck finding out why this is happening now?” asked Victor, gliding behind Hanagawa to inspect the computer screen.

  “No,” sighed Hanagawa. “And I have no one left to send. Nobody.”

  Victor scanned the L.A. Times article with raised eyebrows. It was rare that any of his kind would be so bold in a human city, and stranger still that so many would follow suit. “I could go to L.A.,” he offered hesitantly. “Find out why and try to stop it.”

  “No, Victor,” answered Hanagawa quickly. “I need you here. Gina knew something, and I need to find out if she knows more. Can you wake her?”

  He glanced over at the monitor, quickly scanning her readings, and his mind flew through the ramifications as he understood them. “No,” he replied. “Her consciousness is in another realm. It would be very dangerous.”

  Hanagawa screwed his mouth up as he processed this. “How dangerous?”

  Victor searched for an appropriate description. “Very,” he answered. “She is immersed in that world. Ripping her back here could be catastrophic, fatally so. We must wait for her to return on her own.”

  The man didn’t look like he appreciated the answer, but he nodded sharply. “Fine. I’m going to find Marcus Owens,” he said. “Just… just track everything that comes in. We have to assume it’s connected to Snow Hill. After we take care of that, we’ll worry about cleaning up everything else.”

  “I will,” responded Victor, sliding into the chair as soon as Hanagawa vacated it. “Be careful, Mr. Yori. We cannot afford to lose any more people.”

  Yori Hanagawa looked back at him, and the naked fear he momentarily glimpsed in the man’s eyes sent a chill down Victor’s spine. “We can’t afford to lose the people we’ve already lost,” he replied. “Stay safe, and keep her safe. Call me if she wakes or if you receive another message from her.”

  Victor winced. “If I get another message from her, I might not be able to call,” he answered with a grimace. “But I will do my best.”

  “That’s all I ever ask,” sighed Hanagawa as he swept out the door. Victor listened to the man’s shoes tapping down the hall until he could no longer hear the diminutive man’s strides, watching the green heart monitor flash. Gina’s heartbeat drummed in his ears, and he crossed quickly to the refrigerator. Victor grabbed one of only four remaining bloodbags and anxiety flooded him; he drank quickly, hoping the fresh food might quell the thrum in his ears of the comatose woman’s blood. It did not.

  68

  “I’ll be right back, Chaz,” replied Charlie, her nostrils flared in irritation. “You just make sure nobody goes dark side, and if they do, there are a lot of people with guns here.” She pointed at Max, who trotted over to stand by the seated Nathan. The thin young man looked up at the armed guard with alarm.

  The redheaded young man jumped in her path and got up close to her, his freckled face seething, and she blinked in surprise at his anger. “Don’t leave us,” he said. “We go together or we don’t go at all.”

  “Chaz, calm down,” she snapped, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks. He was clearly terrified being back here, and seeing that made her anxiety climb even higher. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. I’m just going to scout, and I’ll come right back.”

  “We should wait for Yori.”

  Charlie puffed a quick breath. “Do you know how much of my life I’ve wasted waiting for Hanagawa?” she scoffed, pushing him aside roughly. “I can take care of myself, Charles. Don’t ever doubt that,” she snapped.

  Chaz jumped in front of her again, his back pressed to the elevator doors. “I mean it, Charlie,” and the emotion in his eyes wavered somewhere between fear and rage. “I have a bad feeling.”

  She laughed harshly and squeezed past him into the compartment. “We all have a bad feeling. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes. If Hanagawa gets here before I get back,” but the elevator doors slid closed before she could finish her sentence, beginning its smooth ascent to the ground floor. “Keep him pinned down,” she finished to herself with a sigh.

  Charlie Parker walked briskly to one of the black SUVs and hopped in the driver’s seat, checking to make sure the keys were in the ignition. She backed out and turned onto the main road. She wasn’t concerned that she would get lost; the roadways here were seared into her mind. The image of Chaz’s angry young face staring at her through the closing elevator made her wince; she hadn’t meant to be so short with him. But she’d warned Hanagawa - she was not good around people, and she could only take that crowded space for so long. She figured she might as well do something useful and go check on the scene, and driving alone was one of her rarest joys. Though she felt little joy tonight as she took one familiar turn after another, circling ever closer to the edge of the black river and what lay beyond.

  She turned the SUV into the tiny access path, much more overgrown than the last time she’d been here. Charlie had only ever returned to the site once, to oversee the demolition of the remaining structures and then razing it to the ground. After she was done, the wall, as it had originally existed, was gone, and all that was left was burnt fields and the occasional charred foundation stone. She had walked away, glad to be rid of it. She cursed under her breath as the vehicle scraped through the brambles, and then slammed her foot down on the brakes.

  The wall stood alone in the middle of the field, but it didn’t, not quite. The painted surface that she remembered hung there, suspended, a black shining liquid reflecting the headlights and defying physics, acting as if it still covered the now missing brick. She stared at it, instinctively shifting to reverse as she backed the SUV through the bushes. Charlie fumbled for her phone, dialing Hanagawa’s number without looking at the keypad.

  “Charlie, I’m busy,” he answered, and she fought the urge to shush him. His voice sounded unnaturally loud over the rumble of the engine, and the oozing liquid rectangle seemed closer somehow.

 
“Yori,” she breathed. “I’m here, at the wall.”

  “Of course you are,” he grumbled, but followed quickly with a clipped “What do you see?”

  “It’s back,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m looking at it. Tell me you’re on your way, Yori.”

  “I’m on my way. Stay there,” he said. “Call me if it changes.” She heard a click as the line went dead and whimpered slightly, glad there was no one else in the vehicle with her as she returned her full attention to the awful shape. If it changes, she thought with a scowl, dialing Chaz’s number. I’ll just tell Chaz he’s in charge. That’ll go over well. She sighed.

  “Charlie?” There was a tinge of hysteria to Chaz’s voice, and she heard shouting in the background.

  Goddammit, Chaz, I’ve been gone less than ten minutes. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Nate, he started freaking out…” More shouts, and she heard Chaz clamp his hand over the receiver as he yelled orders to the operatives to hold him down. “We’ve got him restrained.”

  Charlie gritted her teeth. “I need as many men as you can spare here.”

  There was a moment of silence before Chaz spoke again. “You do know how many people this guy’s killed, right?”

  “Now, Chaz,” she whispered, watching the wall in its bizarre motion. It reminded her of the surface of the sun, if the sun were made of blood and bile. “I need people here now.”

  “Okay,” he answered, and the line went dead. She glanced down in surprise - she was accustomed to Hanagawa and the mosquito hanging up on her, but Chaz? Her phone screen was blank, and she threw it into the passenger side seat. Either the battery had died or… she stared up at the wall and gripped the wheel tightly. She didn’t want to think about an “or.”