Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Page 36

  I’ll just stay here, she thought to herself, forcing herself to stop gritting her teeth. Hanagawa is on his way. This is nothing. It’s a false alarm. It’s nothing. She watched the wall undulate and bit her cheek. It’s nothing.

  69

  Nathan Jones felt he was doing really well, considering the circumstances. He could sense his grasp of things around him softening, which he’d come to associate with the blank times. The times he found himself lost in memories while something else animated his limbs. He shivered uncontrollably, the fear pushing through the fog momentarily. “Chris,” he huffed, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. “I’m going away again, I can feel it.”

  “Just hold on,” pleaded Chris, looking up at the two men who held his friend motionless. “It’s getting worse when you go.”

  Nate focused on his surroundings, straining his eyes to gather every detail, desperate to hold on to his present.

  A thin gurgling sound caught his attention and he saw the considerable form of Mama pitch over from her chair. “Something’s happened!” she cried, but her voice wasn’t her own. Melissa stared out from the trembling woman, her face painted in horror. “He’s coming!”

  He groaned as the men holding him tensed up, their grips growing even tighter and his arms twisted back at an agonizing angle. The pain made his focus waver, and he gritted his teeth against it.

  “Nate’s not strong enough,” he heard her say, and he winced. Thanks for the support, he thought bitterly. “I’m going in there. I can do it, I think. I can help.”

  Nathan looked up in alarm and met the woman’s glazed-over brown eyes. “What?”

  “I don’t know how long I can hold him,” rushed Melissa, ignoring his question. She broke eye contact with Nathan and grabbed the freckled guy by the shirt. “Do not let Nate die. Find help. Go!”

  Nate saw Chaz tug at his red hair, snatching his phone up to his ear, and watched as LaVey pitched forward again. His vision blurred slightly and he blinked, feeling suddenly dizzy and lightheaded, and he felt himself slump in his captors’ arms. He struggled to lift his head, but he couldn’t. His body felt dead to him, and a high keen of panic sounded in his ears.

  “Nate!”

  He whirled around to see Melissa Mathers standing in front of him. They were standing in his childhood home, toys scattered across the living room floor. The television, an old clunky one, was playing some after-school special, but the reception was fuzzy, and static lines ran across the screen. A heavy, savory scent wafted through the room, and he could hear his mother banging around in the kitchen as she cooked. Nathan walked toward the door in a daze, desperate to see her again, lively and healthy. “Nate,” repeated Melissa, placing her hand on his shoulder. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

  “I know,” he whispered, inching closer to the door with hope in his heart. “I know, I know, I just want to see.” He looked at Melissa, wincing - she looked just as she had on the day she died. “Please.”

  Melissa let go of him and he walked to the door frame, leaning against it. “Mom,” he whispered, his vision blurring for a moment before his tears breached their walls and escaped down his cheeks.

  She glanced at him with a quick smile before returning to her tasks. “What’s up, kiddo?” she asked, turning off the burners. “Dinner’s almost ready.” She was exactly as he wanted to remember her, a beautiful, shining woman with a flush of health, a far cry from the frail husk left after her cancer ate the best parts and discarded the rest. He wiped the tears away, wanting his vision to be clear, wanting to savor the moment.

  Nathan smiled through his tears. “I love you, Mom,” he said, his voice cracking. “I really miss you.”

  She set her spoon down and wiped her hands on a towel, crossing over to hug her son. Her scent surrounded him, familiar and long-missed, and he couldn’t help but weep. “Aw, baby, what’s wrong? I’m right here.” She squeezed him tightly and pushed herself away gently, raising a hand to wipe at the tears in his eyes. “Now go get cleaned up for dinner. Your father should be home any minute.”

  Nate nodded and smiled. “Okay, Mom,” he answered.

  She tousled his hair. “You’re a good kid, Nathan,” she said, and turned around to retrieve dinner plates.

  Nate wiped his face and turned regretfully, walking to join Melissa, who was waiting at the front door. She smiled sadly at him. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I just miss her.”

  Melissa hugged him. “Was she the only one that knew?”

  Nathan looked up at her, perplexed, but understood the question he saw in her eyes. He coughed an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, but it’s more than that.”

  “I know,” she replied, turning the knob and opening the door. Instead of his home’s walkway, there was simply darkness, and fear pierced through Nate again. Melissa grabbed his hand and pulled him in, and the darkness didn’t feel like anything at all. It seemed instant and eternal, and he blinked as he saw that he was in Luke’s garage with all of his friends, co-members of Brothers of Abaddon, and he froze. Luke, the singer and his best friend, was laughing about something in the corner with Danny, and Nate backed toward the door. The two noticed him and smiled, Luke raising his hand in a wave, but all Nate could see was how Luke looked at the end, broken and bloody, in the basement of that awful house. He couldn’t look at Danny at all, his hands twitching as he could feel the black hair tangle in his fingers.

  “I don’t like this,” he said, turning the handle to reveal the blackness again.

  “Wait,” said Melissa, but he was already jumping through the door. He felt her hand grab his just as he disappeared into that awful and total nothing for an instant - but for forever - before realizing that he was in the basement of that awful house. Chris Stivek was huddled against the wall, tugging at his beard and staring across the stone floor past the last dying flickers of one lone candle to what Nick knew was a pile of dead rabbits, covered in his oldest friend’s blood. He groaned and closed his eyes, knowing the room held only two, equally unappealing exits - the window he’d barely squeezed out of before, or the trapdoor back into the living room. Melissa panted next to him, her eyes wide with fear. “What I was going to say is that you can’t run in a panic like that,” she snapped in a hoarse whisper. “You’re just going to follow your thoughts.”

  “This is worse,” hissed Nate, looking up at the trapdoor. He minced forward to the edge of the rabbit corpses that lay in a pile at the foot of the ladder. “Fine, what do I do? I need to get back, how do I get out of here?”

  “Not yet,” said Melissa, pushing him to the ladder. “Just think of something calm. Something peaceful. A memory of being alone.”

  He had plenty of those. “Okay,” he said, closing his eyes as he got to the trapdoor. He heard a slithering sound cross the wood and opened them again. “Um… are you sure it’s going to be blackness again? And not just the living room?” The sound grew louder.

  “Not if that’s what you’re concentrating on, Nate,” she urged, looking up at him with worried eyes. “Concentrate on that place. That serenity. That loneliness.”

  Nick did, and pushed open the trapdoor without looking, climbing up into the blackness with Melissa clinging to his ankle. He opened his eyes to a grassy, flowered hill, surrounded by forest on three sides and a peaceful river in front of them. He smiled and felt the fear flow from him. Melissa stood next to him and nodded at him, a relieved grin on her face. “Okay,” he said, feeling lighter. “Good. Better. But why not yet? I have to get back. They’re in danger while I’m away.”

  “We’re all in danger,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Look, we need to take a moment. Remember Christmas morning? I’ve been able to lock him completely out of that memory, completely out. I can be me there. Alone.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve tried searching for Luke and Danny, but I can’t reach them at all anymore. You and me, we’re it. We have to beat him from the inside.
”

  “Can we push him out?” asked Nate, hopeful.

  “Well, no, not exactly,” replied Melissa, biting her lip. “Not that I’ve figured out. But I think we can do one better.” She sat on the soft grass and smiled, closing her eyes in the sunlight. “I think we can ride the path back into Harold Locke, together, and fuck his world up.”

  70

  The morning sun coaxed Morgan’s eyes open and he turned his head to see the reddish blonde strands of Gina’s hair splayed across her backpack, which was currently serving as her pillow. She was snoring lightly, her cloak pulled up above her eyes, curled into a tight ball to keep everything within the small cover. Morgan considered rolling closer to her, just for a moment, but he was keenly aware of the company and dismissed the thought before it could sprout wings. He sat up, stretching, and saw Agni standing watch on the road. Kyrri was lying next to him, the tip of his nose touching the sand, clearly asleep. The scarred mercenary noticed him watching and waved, pointing and shrugging at the Cat. Morgan took a small sip from his waterskin, wincing at the light weight of it, and screwed the lid back on. He was glad they were getting back to Gak today. He hoped he would have a chance to say goodbye to the caravan, but he thought the chances of that were slim. Toma broke into a loud snore next to him and he nudged the giant awake.

  She must have been tired, thought Morgan, as Gina continued to sleep through the majority of the packing, finally waking groggily as he was saddling Mati. “Morning, princess,” he chuckled.

  “Time zzit?” she grumbled, wiping her eyes.

  “Time to go,” purred Kyrri, bumping his head against hers.

  “You guys didn’t wake me for watch,” she admonished, but smiled. “Thanks. I was dog tired. I’ll take first watch tonight,” she added.

  “Tonight, we should stay in Gak,” remarked Agni. “We won’t arrive there until near dark anyway, so we’ll have to do most of our supply run tomorrow. Hopefully the inn will have space for everyone.”

  “Oh,” replied Gina. “Well, tomorrow night, then.”

  “Mati’s ready for you,” said Morgan, watching her rub her feet.

  “Not going to say no,” she sighed. “Til Gak.”

  “I would never assume that’s a permanent promise,” chuckled Morgan, offering his hand to help her up. “You’re pretty contrary by nature.”

  “No, I’m not,” she replied dryly, but snorted a laugh under her breath.

  The day was long, but it didn’t feel long, with Gina and Kyrri passing their tale back and forth. Toma complained that he wasn’t able to understand the Cat, and Morgan began translating whenever Kyrri spoke. Morgan had dozens of questions, and continued to siphon information from them until he felt like he could see the scenes. Gina struggled when she described Gavin Crowell’s appearance in Maestra Crow’s shop, and the ensuing brawl that left three men dead, one with her dagger sticking out of his neck. Morgan’s eyebrows reached toward his hairline. “You stabbed a man in the throat?” he clarified.

  “You gonna arrest me?” she asked with a smirk, but the green eyes that looked down from Mati’s back were haunted, and it was his turn to squeeze her hand. She flushed red and continued that portion of the story, wringing her hands and rubbing her forearms as she described washing the blood off in street puddles. Kyrri noticed her tension and took over the story for a while, which created a stop-start rhythm as Morgan had to echo every sentence for Toma. Gina took back over when they arrived at the palace, and even the Cat and the mercenary were straining to hear her descriptions, as she hadn’t talked much about exactly what had happened within the walls, and much of it occurred before their arrival with Crowell. Morgan let her finish that story without interruption, and silence fell as she finished, the company processing the information.

  “Your telepathy was gone until the King?” asked Morgan, surprised. “How…?”

  “How did I survive?” she snapped.

  “No,” he replied, twitching at the interruption. “How did you know who to trust?”

  “The same way normal humans do, I guess,” answered Gina, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “Badly and with lots of missteps. I was lucky that Kyrri found me, and Agni…”

  “I was led to you by the enemy,” answered the scarred mercenary with a scowl. “But maybe this will be the one thing he’s done that ends well.”

  “Yes, that,” she agreed. “And that’s it. That’s my story.” She bent over slightly, and Morgan inspected her face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Just really tired,” she replied. “It’s different here. Amplified. It’s hard to block it all out.” Her voice had lowered into an almost whisper. “It takes a lot of effort.”

  “Maybe it’s like training at a high altitude,” Morgan offered. “It’ll just make you stronger once we get back.”

  “Yeah,” she answered, nodding and shading her eyes against the sun. “That’d be great.” She looked like she was struggling with her thoughts, and Morgan let his pace drift back a bit to give her space, keeping an eye on her in case she slid off of Mati’s back. He matched his pace to Toma’s with a nod before returning his gaze to her. Kyrri immediately leapt into Morgan’s place beside the horse, trotting next to Mati, who was still not certain what to make of the Cat and flicked his ears back and forth.

  “I will stay with the Cat and Agni tonight. You and she should have your own room,” muttered Toma in a low voice, and Morgan glanced over with a surprised laugh.

  “I don’t think…” he started.

  “Please,” interrupted Toma, waving the sentence away. “We’ll be six days into the desert, all of us together, and who knows what lies at the end of that road? Steal happiness while you can.”

  “She’s not feeling well,” answered Morgan, but the thought was pleasantly persistent, and made the hot sun more bearable.

  “We’ll all feel better once we get a hot meal by a fire,” asserted Toma, but he let the matter drop.

  Features on the road were beginning to be familiar, and Morgan remained tense as they entered the outskirts of the city, watching the people they passed for signs of recognition or unusual reactions. There had already been too much blood spilled, but if there was to be more, he wanted none of it to be theirs. No one reacted to their presence, and they made their way to the inn without issue.

  Gina seemed a little brighter as she slid off Mati, handing the reins to the stableboy who waited to take the horses behind the inn. Agni ducked inside to check on rooms and clear seats - he didn’t mention how he would do that, and Morgan didn’t ask. The man looked formidable enough that Morgan doubted he needed to do more than scowl and point. “Feel better?” he asked, steadying her as she landed.

  “A bit,” she smiled, glancing up at him and then looking away. “It’s hard, though,” she admitted, her cheeks a high red.

  Morgan made a mental note to keep a tight leash on his thoughts and followed her inside. The place was well-lit and festive, and about half-full; it was immediately apparent that the other half of the company was very familiar with the place, waving at the two women behind the bar and exchanging friendly hellos. He walked across to where Agni had secured several benches near the main hearth and was already lifting a considerable mug to his lips, and waved with his free hand to a platter of them on the table. Morgan picked one up and raised it in a salute to the mercenary, and Toma joined him, picking one up and clinking them together. “Watch that stuff, though,” warned Toma in a dramatic whisper. “Too much and…” he shook his head and waggled his eyebrows. Morgan sighed and turned around to see Gina tilting her head back and pouring the contents of the mug down her throat. He raised an eyebrow and sipped his own.

  “You drinking to remember, or drinking to forget?” he fake-slurred at her with a grin.

  She chuckled, and lowered her mug. “You know, I didn’t even like beer, or ale, or any of that before I got here. I was always a cranberry vodka girl.”

  “I remember,” he said.
<
br />   Agni held up two large bronze keys, and threw one to Morgan. “Help the lady with her bags,” commanded the mercenary. “I’ll order us some food.”

  Morgan did as he was told, scooping her bags up and offering his arm. “Milady,” he said, bowing low, and holding her surprised gaze. She snaked her arm in his with a smile and let herself be led upstairs. Morgan fumbled with the key, and she took it from him, opening the door for him as he carried his own bags and hers into the room and deposited them on the bed, of which there was one. Morgan felt sweat bead on his brow as Gina closed the door and stood awkwardly in front of it, one hand fidgeting with her braid.

  “Nicer room than we had last time,” she remarked, biting her lip. “We, I mean, Kyrri and Agni. Not that…”

  “Definitely better than sand,” he interrupted, stepping closer to her.

  She looked at him with a mischievous smile. “You know what they probably think…” she started, and her voice was hushed, hesitant, her expression uncertain.

  “I heard somewhere that this was all just a dream,” he whispered, close enough to feel her breath against his lips. He could feel her nervousness, and it worked to quell his own. He reached up and traced a path of freckles down her cheek, brushing an errant hair away.

  “It feels pretty real,” she whispered back, her luminous green eyes wide. Her breath hitched as he tilted his head and her lips parted to his, and he felt that electric current again, and for a moment everything was her, her body pressed up against his, her lashes tickling against his cheek, her scent, her mouth, and he kissed her hungrily. Her body shivered in his arms and she relaxed into his embrace, raking her nails through his hair. He felt odd, suddenly, as though he were in two places at once, and then saw the shadow of which she’d spoken, piercing through the veil of realms, malignant and bilious and terrifying in its scope. Morgan broke away, blinking, and the vision disappeared.

  Gina looked away and closed her eyes, collecting herself before she spoke. “I can’t let go like that, Morgan,” she said. “It’s too dangerous here. I want to,” she locked eyes with him again and he felt that current pass through him before she looked away, wrapping her arms around herself in frustration. “I really want to. But I can’t.”