Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Page 9

  "Oh," said Kyrri, stuffing the rest of the meat into his mouth. "That makesh shensh." He trotted ahead of her and Gina followed closely behind, grinning as Kyrri cut an easy path through the crowded street.

  "Much better," she remarked, keeping a hand on the belt pouch that Kylvan had given her. Apparently, Cats had little need of Man's dinieri, but Kylvan had given her what they had managed to collect. Kyrri had assured her that it was not a small sum, but might not cover their entire trip. Gina was ecstatic. It was a start; she had coin of the realm and a direction to travel. It wasn't much, but it was something, and she felt slightly less guilty while her feet were moving.

  She kept an eye on Kyrri, but with her path cleared, she felt a little freer to examine the city up close as she passed through. It was definitely more lovely from a distance, she decided, but it managed to have some charm even in the middle of its swarming populace. The bright cloth ceilings draped across the stalls colored the sunlight passing through from overhead, and the dust dancing through the air made the city look even more alive. People were everywhere; if the streets had seemed bustling from above, it was nothing compared to being among the throngs of Men. Here and there, Gina noticed Cats lounging near stalls, or in windows, or on specially cushioned sills. In front of each Cat were offerings of water, meat, even wine. "No wonder you Cats don't travel much," she remarked.

  "Yeah, Ulthar is pretty great," replied Kyrri, stopping to accept a large slab of jerky from a young dark-haired girl. "Thanksh," he purred, nudging the child's hand with his large head before moving on.

  "Why do they do it?" she asked, taken aback.

  "It'sh conshidered divine to sherve a Cat," he explained, his mouth smacking as he chewed the jerky.

  "Is it going to be like this the whole time?" she laughed.

  "Nah. Once we get out of Ulthar, I don't think I'll get as much meat," he said, and she couldn't help but smile at how sad he sounded when he said it.

  They walked down several more streets, getting farther and farther from the white palace that rose from the center of the city. There were far fewer vendors here, and people were scarcer. A few children ran past her, and Gina checked her hip pouch reflexively, but felt bad about doing so. It's a good instinct, she tried to reassure herself. This is a strange land. Her reasoning felt hollow. It was a strange land, but so far everyone she'd met had been nothing but helpful. She remembered Nasht's warning at the gate and scoffed; this place wasn't nearly as frightening as she'd been afraid it would be. It had beauty, and kindness, so what if it also had horror? That wasn't any different than the world she knew. She forced her hand to relax slightly from her side, and quickened her pace to match Kyrri's.

  "We'll take the trolley to Hlanith," said Kyrri, rounding a corner. They were in front of a large gate that opened to a familiar road. Gina recognized the bronze trolley track that ended in a tall metal wall.

  "Oh. Okay. Do we have to jump again?"

  Kyrri chuckled. "Of course not! It stops at the ends."

  Gina thought back to the old woman with the cane that she'd seen on their first trip, before she passed out. Ah, she thought.

  They sat on one of the wooden benches near the track. There were a few other people sitting, Gina assumed also waiting for the trolley. A broad man in a bright yellow silk gown sat across the track from them, reading a small book, and did not look up from it as they arrived. Near him was a younger woman, Gina would have guessed her age to be about twenty if she were human, corralling a toddler-sized boy away from the tracks.

  "Good, here comes the trolley," announced Kyrri.

  Gina stood and checked her pouch, shouldering her backpack. Kylvan had provided her with the pack, but Gina hadn't had a chance to go through it yet, as the daily trolley was set to leave soon. The big, brass pipes were still chugging out voluminous clouds of thick, white smoke as the boxcar lurched toward them, jerking every time the brakes were applied. With a squeal, the trolley pulled into place, just nudging the metal stopwall with a bright ting! sound.

  Gina followed Kyrri on, dropping a one-dinieri coin into the waiting hand of the guard at the door. She was prepared this time. He ripped off a small sheet of paper, stamped it, and handed it to her as she walked inside. She noticed the reading man had claimed a sizable cushioned lounge toward the middle of the boxcar and was already flipping through his pages to find his place. She scanned the furniture, but didn't see the chaise that had startled her on the last trip, and none of the pieces looked familiar to her. The woman with the child was still outside, greeting a man who had stepped off of the platform.

  "Looks like a light load again," remarked Kyrri, jumping up onto a plush couch and settling in.

  Gina dropped in beside him and set the pack between her feet, untying the cord that cinched the top. "Fine by me," she said, peeking under the flap to see what was inside. She pulled a chair closer and began unpacking the bag's contents.

  "So, we'll head to Hlanith first, that part's easy as beef. After that..." Kyrri trailed off and shook his head. "The Castle rises from the center of the world, right in the middle of the Eastern Desert. We'll have to find a caravan or something headed to the Crossroads, and then figure it out from there. After we cross..." Kyrri trailed off with a snort and his purring stopped.

  Gina pulled out a roll of thin-looking paper and looked quizzically at Kyrri.

  "That's travel paper. For your scat," he explained matter-of-factly.

  She chuckled. "Toilet paper." She nodded her head. "Good thing to pack, actually. I probably wouldn't have thought of that."

  "Minah probably packed for you," commented Kyrri. "She's good about things like that."

  "I'm amazed she got this much stuff to fit in here," she said, looking at the items surrounding her. "I'm not sure I'll fit it all back in." There was a full change of clothes, a lightweight summer linen shirt and skirt that was surprisingly soft, a large tarpaulin that folded away to almost nothing, the toilet paper along with a small bar of soap and a set of minuscule toothbrushes, a brush and several bands for her hair (which again, she hadn't considered), a thin, down-lined cloak, a small box of matches, and a primitive medical kit with bandages, needle and thread, and a jar of some sort of jelly. In addition to all of this was another bag stuffed to the brim with dried meat and nuts, hard crackers, a few pieces of hard-skinned fruit, and two skin-casks of water. She pulled the last item out of the pack, a small, curved dagger with a jeweled handle. Gina shook her head in disbelief. "I can never thank your people enough, Kyrri. This is above and beyond."

  Kyrri fished a small piece of jerky out of his belly pouch and smiled at her. "It's considered divine to serve a Dreamer."

  Gina smirked. "So if it's divine to serve a Cat, and divine to serve a Dreamer, what does that make a Cat that serves a Dreamer?"

  Kyrri rolled onto his back and let his paws fall in all directions. "Super divine, or something."

  She laughed so hard the man across the trolley looked up from his book in annoyance before resuming his reading.

  17

  Victor Dobre sipped at his wine glass and rubbed his temples, staring at the laptop screen. He didn't like "snacking" between meals, but he was finding it easier to work around his patient if he kept something handy and approved to drink. He glanced over at the body on the table, and scanned the readouts on the computer screen near her head. Normal. He found his vision lingering on her and tore his eyes away, taking another sip of the thick red liquid.

  This was harder than he'd anticipated. Victor feared that his willpower wasn't as strong as he'd previously thought.

  He tried to focus on his laptop, but the words were blurry. He turned the brightness down as far as it would go and rubbed his temples again. That was a little better. He scrawled a few details down in his notebook from the newspaper article on his screen, the pen looping through the letters in a well-practiced cursive, and sighed. There were a lot of reports being sent in by their network, and a lot of news articles outlining strange events
, more than usually hit their inbox in a month. And these were only the ones that had arrived in the last hour. He'd made virtually no headway on Ms. Parker's case. He could find no reason that a human soul would have the sort of power evidenced at the Locke house. None. There were occasional poltergeists that could have managed something to that scale, but poltergeists were entirely localized. There were a slew of other, darker entities that could do all that Locke had accomplished and more, but then it didn't make sense that Locke would be at the center of it. He was just a not-very-nice human who died decades ago. Why would he be taking his bloodthirst out for a walk now, after all this time? And how? Victor growled and took another sip. He didn't like it when things didn't make sense to him, and this didn't make any sense at all.

  The click-tap of shoes walking down the tiled hall outside his office made Victor jump. He closed his eyes, concentrating, as the figure paused outside of his frosted glass door. No heartbeat, he thought, and a small smile played on his lips.

  "Come in, Mr. Yori," he called, relief washing over him. If anyone might be able to help him find answers, it was Yori Hanagawa.

  The knob turned and the diminutive man strode into the office. "Victor," he acknowledged, placing the leather briefcase he was holding on the table next to the door and shrugging off his black suit jacket. "Where is everybody?" His eyes shone slightly in the darkness, and Victor could trace his eyes as he peered through the darkness. "Is that...?" he started.

  "Ms. Gina, yes," he sighed. "I have not touched her," he added quickly, raising his wine glass in a sardonic toast and taking another sip.

  Yori ran his hand through his close-cropped dark hair and dropped it to undo the latches on his briefcase. He rummaged through the large case in silence, withdrawing a large bottle and a smaller bag that looked tantalizingly familiar. Victor licked his lips and reclined in his office chair, waiting for Yori to finish his task in silence. The young-looking Asian man walked briskly across the office, skirting his way around the full-size hospital bed and its inhabitant, and ducked into Victor's hidden bar. He emerged a few seconds later carrying two wine glasses and set them on Victor's desk, sinking into the chair and popping his bottle of wine. Quick as a flash, he tossed Victor the bag, and Victor snapped it out of the air with a flick of his wrist. "Something special?" he asked, as he unstoppered the bag and poured the contents into the fresh wine glass, draining his old one and setting it aside.

  "Drunk passenger didn't mind donating a bit," commented Yori as he drained his first glass of wine and poured another. "Tell me everything."

  "Gladly," sighed Victor, closing his eyes as he savored the vintage. "Then you can help me figure out what to do."

  18

  "Everyone get their fill?" asked Mama as Chris brought her the plates from the table.

  The crowd remained silent, looking at each other uncertainly. Charlie slid into the empty chair at the table, since Chaz had never reclaimed it.

  "Good. Breakfast is done," growled Charlie. "Now, what happened to you two? What happened at the house? More importantly," she interrupted herself. "I need to see all of your stuff as soon as possible." She pulled out her compass and set it on the table, and the needle pointed directly at Nate. "Starting with you, turn out your pockets."

  Nate glanced up at Mama, who shrugged at him and continued packing dishes into the washer. He looked back at Charlie nervously. "Um, okay," he said, pulling his wallet and some random change out.

  Charlie waited for a minute before realizing he was done. "Really? Nothing else?" Charlie slid the wallet and the money apart from one another, and slid the compass between them. It didn't react, continuing to point directly at Nate.

  "Um," started Nate, but a loud clatter erupted behind them, and a plate shattered across the floor.

  <><><>

  Charlie swiveled to see the sizable woman sprawled across the counter, her legs quivering as they threatened to give way and send her to the floor. Chaz was up in a flash, weaving himself under her arm and then lifting her almost entirely unsupported to a standing position, his freckly face contorted with the effort. Charlie stood in a quick, fluid motion and flipped her chair around to accept the hefty body. LaVey's head rolled from side to side, and her eyes were cloudy and staring. Charlie checked her compass again; it was still pointing at Nate, but it was jerking away and back in small, quick movements. "Miss LaVey?" ventured Charlie, squatting in front of the chair, poking the woman's knee with her manicured nail.

  "She told you it was 'Mama,' not Miss," snapped LaVey's mouth, but her voice was completely different, younger and clearer and distinctly feminine. "But I'm Melissa."

  Charlie stood up and backed away from LaVey, looking down at her compass curiously. The needle was now completely erratic, setting first on Nate, then moving to LaVey, then back again. "Melissa Mathers," she confirmed. "From the video." Charlie's mind raced. There was a lot wrong here.

  "How is she doing that?" whispered Chaz, his eyes locked on the compass and also having backed away from the medium, who was sitting straight and unassisted in her chair. Nate and Chris had scooted their chairs closer to be able to hear better.

  "Melissa, what did you find out?" asked Chris in a rush, leaning over so far that his beard brushed LaVey's hand. "How do we kill it?"

  "He's been quiet lately. Waiting for something, biding his time, saving his energy. It's been hard to get away," she shuddered, the tremor traveling throughout her body. "He's been... paying a lot of attention to us." There was a moment of silence that no one chose to break before Melissa continued. "I mentioned last time that something was changing, it is, and it's accelerating. He'll make his move sooner than later. He wants to be first."

  "What do you mean, first?" asked Nate, pale as a ghost and holding his stomach.

  The shrill sound of a telephone ringer made everyone jump and turn in Charlie's direction. Quickly, she fished her cell out of her pocket, deftly hitting the "mute ringer" button as she brought it up to read. "Goddamn it, Victor," she hissed, seeing the caller ID she had saved as first name "Fucking," last name "Mosquito." She sent the call to voicemail, but quickly turned the ringer down to vibrate.

  "The first one through," explained Melissa in a trembling voice. "There's some kind of hole that's almost open, and he needs you to die before then, Nate. Then he'll have enough energy to make the final push." She shook in her chair, her rings rattling against the arms. "I did find out it's definitely not his idea. Something is directing him to do what he's doing, and I don’t think he’s the only one.”

  "Something or someone?" asked Charlie, cursing under her breath as she felt the phone vibrate again. You have the worst fucking timing, she screamed inwardly at Victor. I swear you do it on purpose.

  "Something," shuddered Melissa. "Definitely Something. If it was ever human, it didn't look like it. I've only seen it in his memories, but It's..." she stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. "There aren't really words. I can't describe it. It exists everywhere here. It’s all around us. It's wrong." She shook her head and moved her lips silently.

  The phone fell still in her hand and Charlie bit her lip.

  "Okay, but how do we kill him, this one, the thing that's got you and Nate?" asked Chris.

  The tension in the air was palpable, and Charlie jumped when she felt the phone vibrate again in her hand. She flicked it on and brought it to her ear in a flash. "Dammit, Victor, I will call you back," she hissed, immediately hanging the phone up and shoving it back into her pocket. "How many did It tell? Where is this hole?" Charlie asked her questions rapid-fire, taking a step closer to LaVey.

  "I don't know how many," answered Melissa, her cloudy eyes locked on Charlie's hazel ones. "A lot. And the hole is everywhere. It's a rip, some sort of tear in the fabric between worlds."

  "Is there a place? Any location?" asked Charlie

  "I can’t see that, it's an event, a memory. A moment in time. That's the tear. That moment.” She paused, looking upward in thought. “Fire. It’s all I can
see." LaVey's head cocked to the side and she studied Charlie's face closely.

  "Stop!" screamed Chris, tugging at his beard. "I don't care about any of that! This thing is killing Nate, and he's all I got left, and I can't watch another friend die! Melissa, how do we get this thing out of Nate? How do we stop this?"

  "You can't," replied LaVey, but it wasn't LaVey and it wasn't Melissa. The voice was deep and horrible, and it laughed, and when it laughed Charlie felt slimy and wrong. Chris stumbled back and fell to the ground, crabwalking away from the woman, and Nate flattened himself against the wall, his face a mask of terror. It lifted a bony finger, pointing at Charlie with LaVey's long claw. "My Master remembers you." LaVey's face broke into a wide grin, her eyes no longer cloudy, but black with a pinpoint of flame in the center.

  "Harold Locke," said Charlie, doing her best to keep her voice from breaking. The compass now pointed directly at LaVey, as still as if it were carved from stone. She set it on the counter to free up her hands, and the weight of the gun in her back holster pressed against her spine. There had been no way Charlie Parker was coming in unarmed.

  LaVey looked surprised, and momentarily wistful before the unnerving grin spread back across her face. "Maybe once," Locke admitted. "I barely remember that name now. I've seen so much since then." He clacked LaVey's teeth together.

  "Who is your master?" asked Charlie.

  "You won’t have to wait too long at all for that answer," clucked Locke, and he leaned forward in the chair. He leaned back and examined LaVey's nails. "Not too long at all."

  Quicker than should have been possible, LaVey was up on her feet, leaping at Nate in the corner. Her claws dug into his flesh, and he was screaming, shoving and kicking her away with all of his limbs. Charlie withdrew her gun but Chaz leapt on the woman's back, snaking his arm around her neck and squeezing with all of his wiry might. Nate sputtered and kicked, bleeding profusely from somewhere Charlie couldn't see.