Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Read online

  With that, Melissa was gone. Mama LaVey collapsed back into her chair with an "oomph" and her head rolled back against the pillow. Chris leapt from his chair and rounded the table.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, cherie, I'm okay." Mama waved him off tiredly and propped her elbows up on the table. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and grab me a glass of water."

  "Water. Okay." Chris followed her pointing finger and stumbled through a curtained door.

  "Told you you was touched," she grumbled at Nate.

  "Can you remember everything you say when you're... like that?" Nate stumbled over the words.

  "Yep," she answered, sliding open a drawer under the table and retrieving a half-smoked joint. “Ain't me talking, but I can still use my ears." She sighed and lit the paper. "Guess you two ain't going nowhere fast."

  "What do you mean? We have to go..." urged Chris, walking back in and setting the glass of water in front of her. “You heard her. You might live if we leave right now.” Mama nodded, holding her breath, and passed the joint to Chris. He looked at it, looked at Nate, and accepted it with a nod of thanks.

  "I ain't having no blood on my hands," she answered heavily between a series of hacking coughs. "I can't just turn you out on the streets and have you murder the next town. Plus, that girl was a smart cookie. You don't get taken over and not get a good feel for who's doin' the taking-over. She's sharp. Maybe she can figure out how to get your asses out of this mess. And if she does, how you think you'll be getting that info?" Mama took the joint back and drew a long inhale. "Me, that's how. Ain't that some shit."

  "Ain't that some shit," echoed Nate, shaking his head.

  10

  "More southeast than south now, Chaz." Charlie Parker held her palm closer to her face and examined the compass. "It's definitely moving a bit. We're getting closer."

  Chaz checked the navigator screen. "Looks like there's an eastbound highway coming up in a few miles. Should I take it?"

  Charlie leaned over to take a look. "Mm, no, not yet. Let's stay on this until the needle points more directly east. I don't want to circle around forever." She replaced the compass on her lap and shifted in her seat. "We'll have to stop soon."

  Chaz cocked his head at her. "Still got half a tank. Shouldn't need to stop too soon."

  Charlie gritted her teeth at him. "Yes, we do." She shifted again.

  "Oh," grinned Chaz. "Gotcha. I'll pull off at the next station."

  "Thanks," grimaced Charlie, clenching her legs together. "Should have mentioned it about half an hour ago."

  "Well, you're stubborn," replied Chaz with a smile.

  "Tell me about your Bigfoot shit, or something, just distract me," she ordered with a sigh.

  "Actually, I was sitting here wondering about the case."

  "You should be sitting there wondering about getting us there in one piece," she admonished.

  "Hey, I'm a good driver," argued Chaz, running his hands across the mustang's wheel. "And she's a good car, yes, you are..."

  "Stop sweet-talking the vehicle. You can't keep it," snapped Charlie. "What about the case?"

  "Don't you think it's a bit strange? I mean, it's one guy right? A ghost. Big deal. Ghosts haunt their places, and we either demolish the place or put it off-limits if they're dangerous, which they rarely are, or we find the remains and destroy them. Which we’ve done."

  "With you so far," responded Charlie, holding her stomach. "There, lights."

  "I see them." Chaz clicked on his blinker and eased the car toward the offramp. "So why is this guy so hardcore? How is he doing it?"

  "Don't know. Be right back." Charlie whipped open her door, placed the compass on the dashboard, and ran stiltedly into the gas station. After a few moments, she walked back out, clearly much less rushed. "Christ, that's better." She picked the compass back up as she slid back into her seat and closed the door. "Still southeast."

  "But how?” Chaz continued smoothly, returning them to the highway. “Ghosts shouldn't be able to kill people outside of their sphere of influence, and it's gotta be one hell of a spirit to even damage the living inside their spot.”

  “That's above my paygrade," said Charlie, but her eyebrows were drawn down in thought. "We just need to take him out."

  "Can we?" Chaz looked over at her, wide-eyed. "I mean, he might have killed Morgan, and Gina's gone after him. It's just us, and I'm nothing special."

  Charlie sighed and fished her cell phone out of her pocket. "Those are good questions, Chaz," she admitted, flicking the screen on and dialing. "I don't think this guy had anything to do with that thing you saw attack Morgan, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he did. Give me a minute."

  "Sure," said Chaz, glancing over at the phone and then turning his attention back to the road.

  The phone rang in Charlie's ear and she closed her eyes, frowning. She hated calling the “technician,” as Hanagawa insisted she call him.

  "Ms. Parker," came his detestable voice, smooth as bloodstained silk. She grimaced.

  "Victor," she acknowledged with a scowl. "This thing we're hunting. What is it?"

  There was a momentary pause. "I do not know. It sounds like a ghost," he replied.

  "Yeah, that's helpful," she snapped. "Of course it sounds like a ghost. It's a dead human. But ghosts shouldn't be able to do what he's doing."

  "No, it does sound like a very powerful ghost," agreed Victor.

  Charlie rolled her eyes. "Have you found anything out? Done any research?"

  "I have done research, but not on your case."

  Her breath caught in her throat. "Morgan?"

  There was silence on the line for a moment and Charlie cursed his dramatic pauses. "Yes, Mr. Morgan and Ms. Gina. I have been reading up on the Dreamlands, to see if I could do anything to assist them.”

  "And have you found anything?"

  "No."

  Charlie pursed her lips and briefly considered just throwing the phone out of the window. "Then why don't you switch gears and help us, you know, the people still HERE who are hunting something in the REALLY REAL world?"

  "Ah. I can see your point. I will begin my research immediately," conceded Victor.

  "Call me if you find anything," she snapped, and hung up the phone.

  "Nothing?" asked Chaz, disappointed.

  Charlie shook her head. "No, but you're right. We don't know what we're dealing with." She checked the compass again, still southeast. "We'll get as close as we can and see what we see. We won't rush in until we know more," she promised. "Unless we have to," she amended.

  Chaz considered this. "Well, here's to hoping we don't have to," he answered jovially, but Charlie could hear the edge of uncertainty underneath his genial tone.

  "Mm," she answered.

  "Still want to hear my Bigfoot theory?" he asked, hopefully.

  The ghost of a smile passed over Charlie's face before disappearing as quickly as it came. "Nope."

  11

  The buzzing noise was still there.

  As Gina Harwood swam back toward consciousness, that noise was the first thing she noticed. The second was a musty smell of fur. "Wh... Kyrri?" she slurred, forcing her eyes to open and blinking against the light.

  "She's awake," she heard, in a voice that wasn't Kyrri's but was similar enough for her to conclude it belonged to another Cat. Gina drew herself up on her elbows and shook her head, trying to sharpen her blurred sight. "It's alright, Dreamer" continued the voice. "I am Minah, your nurse. Your vision should return to normal soon, I should think. You bumped your head quite hard." Gina's vision cleared momentarily and she saw a statuesque cat with siamese markings hovering over her bed briefly before her vision blurred again. "You should continue to rest. Please, lie down."

  "Where's Kyrri?" she asked, struggling to make her tongue obey her commands.

  "Kyrri is meeting with the Battleleader. I'm sure he'll be here soon."

  "Which?"

  "Both," answered a deep, throaty growl. Gina tu
rned her head and peered at the newcomers, which were nebulous dark shapes to her. She shook her head sharply, but her vision didn’t clear much.

  "Hello," came a shy voice, and that was definitely Kyrri. Relieved, Gina allowed herself to drop to her back and sighed against the pillow.

  "Hi, Kyrri," she said. She was having a hard enough time getting her bearings without having to lose the only thing with which she had acquired a semblance of familiarity.

  "Gina-Dreamer, this is my Grandfather, Battleleader Kylvan, Leader of the Cats of Ulthar," announced Kyrri, still in a smaller and tamer voice than she remembered.

  "A Dreamer won't be impressed by my titles, kit," boomed Kylvan with a touch of laughter.

  Gina wanted to argue that she was actually very impressed to be meeting the leader of a nation of talking cats, but in her current state she found it easier to stay silent. Kylvan approached closer and sat directly next to her bed, Minah moving smoothly to watch over her from a distance. Her vision was a bit better and he was close enough to see that he bore similar tabby-markings to Kyrri's, dark black lines weaving through a light silver base, but his mane resembled a lion's in its size. He wore no crown, but did wear an ornately engraved leather sash that dropped in a "v" shape across his chest and appeared to connect to the thick leather plates that scaled down his back, like Kyrri’s but far more ornamented.

  "It's an honor," she managed, finding her tongue a little easier to wrangle. She blinked hard a few more times, trying to clear away the black dots that danced at the edges of her sight.

  "Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions, Dreamer?" asked the giant feline, and Gina shivered. She tried to reach out and feel his intentions, but the buzzing noise intensified until she stopped.

  "Have I done something wrong?" she asked.

  "Not at all. But it has been a very long time since we have encountered a Dreamer, not since my ancestors were Battleleaders. And rarely do they come without a dire purpose."

  "Do you doubt that I'm a Dreamer?"

  "Again, not at all. I have no reason to question your word. You are a Man, but not quite a Man. You are different from the Men of this world. You speak our tongue perfectly, which few Men can do, but all Dreamers can, at least in the lore. And though he is young and weak," Gina could see Kyrri cower slightly, hanging his head in shame. "I trust Kyrri. He is my blood. If he says you are a Dreamer, then a Dreamer you are."

  "I don't think he's weak at all," snapped Gina, and then bit her lip. How about we don't contradict the Cat-King while he's hovering over our bedside? she admonished herself. Is that really too much to ask? She grimaced and continued. "I'll answer any questions you have, although I don't know how I'll have the answers. It doesn't feel like I know much of anything at the moment."

  "You seem to be taking the transition unusually rough, Dreamer. Do you mind if I call you that? 'Dreamer' is a term of much respect, I assure you."

  "Sure," she said, and forced her tired body to sit upright. There was a moment of sickening dizziness, but then it cleared.

  "What year is it in your world?"

  "2015 uh AD, or CE, or whatever we use now."

  "Ah, interesting. One moment." Gina heard an unpleasant scratching, and leaned to look around Kylvan. There were two other, smaller cats between Kyrri and his grandfather, and both were scribbling on some sort of notepad, dipping their front claw in ink to write.

  "17.5 An, sire," replied the orange-furred Cat on the left. He wore a pair of unusual gold-rimmed glasses that he peered through to fidget with his calculations, but Gina wasn’t sure if they were actually unusual or if she was merely unaccustomed to seeing accessories on cats.

  "Confirmed," replied the other.

  "Very interesting," purred Kylvan.

  "Excuse me, what does that mean?" asked Gina. Kyrri was still not meeting her eyes, so she returned her focus to the king.

  "Kyrri, perhaps you remember from your lessons," prompted Kylvan.

  “The An number is how many years pass here compared to your world," recited Kyrri, his shoulders still hunched. "We know what earth-year previous Dreamers have reported, and the An scale changes, ebbs and flows like tides. We have to have new reports to learn what the current exchange is. So 17.5 An means that every year in your world is equal to 17.5 of our years here. It’s only an estimate, though. We never know for certain.”

  "Wait," pleaded Gina, as she assimilated this information. "Say I got here 12 hours after my friend, in real time..."

  "Earth-time, please. Our time is no less real," corrected Kylvan gently.

  "...Sorry, in Earth-time. Does that mean Morgan has been here for NINE DAYS?"

  Kyrri shuffled his paws. "Roughly. Yes. Plus two days that you've been with us here in the Palace.”

  Guilt washed over her again and she let her head fall back against the wall. Eleven days? He could have gone anywhere, she thought. Maybe he walked the other way. Maybe he didn't even pass through this place. "Did you, or anyone here, see him? He'd be like me, confused, lost. He's taller than me by about four inches, blonde hair, blue eyes."

  Kylvan placed his paw on her knee. "No, Dreamer. No one has seen a Dreamer other than you in centuries, and no encounters have yet reached our ears from any parts of the world. Certainly not as recently as that."

  "This is a big place, though, right? I was lucky Kyrri found me. Surely someone around here must have seen him at some point."

  "How did your friend come to be lost?" asked Kylvan, frowning, his whiskers pointing to the ground.

  Images of the shadowy tigerhounds flashed through her mind, followed quickly by Morgan's staring eyes and the glaring red blister encircling his neck. "Something sent him here. A monster. Something awful."

  "So, he didn't descend like you. He did not find a portal himself."

  Gina furrowed her brow. "No."

  Kylvan lifted his paw and turned to his advisors, leading them across the room. They began conversing quickly in hushed whispers. The glasses-wearing, orange Cat seemed especially adamant, but did not look toward her bed. Gina strained to hear them, but she couldn't make out individual words. Minah took the opportunity to sweep back in to retake her place at the bedside. "You should lie down, Gina-Dreamer," she purred low. "You will need some time to heal."

  "Wait," Gina said, leaning forward. "I want to hear what they're saying."

  "I was just verifying my knowledge with my advisors," replied Kylvan, one ear pointing back toward the bed. He turned and crossed back to her in one smooth leap. "Dreamers who are forced into our world don't usually descend the stairs. The gatekeepers there guard only the main entrance, but there are many."

  "How many?" she demanded.

  "No one knows," replied Kylvan apologetically, shrugging his giant mane of tabby fur. "Hundreds. Thousands, perhaps. He could be anywhere in our world. I have no resources that will reach much beyond Ulthar to aid in your search. I am sorry to bear such news." With that, Kylvan bowed low to her, and a flush rose in Gina's cheeks. As strange as her surroundings were, it seemed a momentous thing to have a king of any sort bow before her.

  "It's... it's okay," she said through gritted teeth. Her mind was screaming at her that it was certainly not okay, nothing about this was okay, and he's been here for how long now?, but her anger seemed to make the awful buzz in her head grow louder. She breathed deeply and counted to ten in her head, and to her surprise, the buzz subsided slightly. "It's okay," she repeated, looking into Kylvan's green eyes. "I'll find him."

  "I know you will, Dreamer," smiled Kylvan. "But first, I believe Minah would agree that you need to rest." Minah nodded her head emphatically. "In fact, I imagine she would have run me out long ago if that might not be a treasonous act." Minah froze mid-nod and her eyes widened. Kylvan roared his laughter. "It isn't treasonous to care for your patients, Minah. Take good care of our Dreamer, here, and feel free to speak with her openly. She must have many questions."

  "Aye, sire," she purred, lowering her head in defe
rence.

  "I will leave you with a small piece of potentially good news, Dreamer." Kylvan motioned, and Kyrri came running clumsily to join him at the bedside. "Kyrri has requested that I allow him to travel with you. He assures me that he can be of assistance to you, as he has studied the nations and tribes of this world that remain unfamiliar to you. Now," he continued. "Kyrri is my blood, but he is still a kit. Perhaps not in body, but his mind is not battle-strengthened. I will in no way think less of you if you choose to travel alone. But he is yours if you wish him as a companion."

  Gina blinked in surprise. Kyrri was looking at her now, for the first time since he'd entered the room, and his eyes were wide and pleading. "I'd be honored to have Kyrri as a companion," she stammered, and the young cat’s face broke into joy.

  "Then he is yours to command, and he will follow your commands as he would follow mine," Kylvan boomed, and Kyrri drew himself up to sit straight-backed.

  "Aye, sire," he answered in a slightly shaky voice.

  "Do your family proud, Kyrri," whispered Kylvan, barely loud enough for Gina to hear. "Go and prepare yourself."

  Kyrri winked at Gina and bounded out of the room.

  "If you change your mind, send him home. No questions asked," murmured Kylvan.

  "Thank you," she replied, unsure of how else to answer. Kylvan bowed once more to her and walked out of the room, stately and strong. His two advisors followed behind, their notebooks tucked into small pouches wrapped around their waists.

  Minah sidled back over and placed a cold cloth on Gina's forehead, helping her to lay prone on the bed. It's so comfortable, she thought, snuggling into the cushions. Her eyes were heavy. "I have so many questions, Minah," she started, but her tongue had regained its sluggishness.

  "The answers will still be here when you wake, Gina-Dreamer," purred Minah, as she slowly kneaded Gina's shoulders with her velvet paws. "You look tired, and you should sleep to heal."