Thirty-one

Night had fallen hours ago, and each minute that ticked by eroded Zaire’s control. His pacing had created a shallow ditch between the trees. More than once, he’d considered tracking Caius while he waited for Quinn’s call. The Crow’s vibrations grew more distant, indicating that he was on the move, but interacting would reveal Zaire’s location, and he refused to surrender that advantage.

Not when it could mean the difference between life and death for his dreamcaster.

A gentle but insistent whisper at Zaire’s consciousness jerked him to a stop. He released a shuddering breath. At last.

He settled back against a tree trunk, closed his eyes, and surrendered to Quinn’s summons. It was as simple as following the apple-scented silver stardust thread now wrapped around his finger. The symbol of her claim made his heart hurt. A tug on the thread, and he landed on white sand beneath a starry sky.

The familiar landscape had changed since he was here with her last. A desert stretched behind him, dunes rolling to touch the dark heavens. Ahead, a protective circle of sparkling black grains split the white. At the very center of the ring, a slender figure with black hair huddled, her face in her arms.

Quinn.

Chills rippled over his skin, and he paused even as he ached to run to her. All the recent times he’d joined her in her dreams, she’d been confident, from her clothing to her attitude. Now, she wore a long nightgown and a stuffed horse nestled in the crook of her arm. Her feet were bare, toes in the sand.

As an adult, she didn’t need him to protect her dreams. She’d proven she could survive. His absence had forced her to either kill or be killed. But her subconscious had taken her deep, to a place of vulnerability, before she was strong. When she needed the boy of silence and shadows who’d shielded her from the nightmares, not the man he was now.

Zaire tugged his shirt over his head. He kicked off his boots and unbuckled the bandoliers of knives crisscrossing his chest, letting them drop to the sand. Barefoot, shirtless, he strode into the strip of black sand, dropping weapons along the way. The sand steamed beneath his feet, hot and on the verge of painful. He would’ve walked across it even if it was glowing coals. With each step, his body shrank. By the time he was a few yards away from the girl with the ebony curls, he was nothing more than a skinny boy.

He stole forward on silent feet, the shadows curling like smoke, and when only a foot separated them, he sank to his knees. Her thin shoulders shook beneath the flimsy, blue-dotted slip covering her as she cried, hiding her face in her arms.

Hesitantly, he brushed her cold hand.

Her head popped up, and everything inside him twisted. Tears shone on her sunken cheeks and in the dark, haunted eyes that seemed too large for her face, too knowing for one so young. Her pink ribbon mouth trembled as she swiped at the wetness with one sleeve, a smile failed.

“You came back.” Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.

He nodded and inched closer. With shaking fingers, he caressed the curl sticking to her cheek.

“You’ve never come this close before.” She kept her whisper going as if speaking louder might draw the nightmares to her, and glanced at the coiling shadows. “You’ve never come out of the dark before.”

He slipped his palm beneath hers and curled his fingers around her delicate hand.

Quinn looked down at the contact, her eyes growing wider. A heartbeat later, her fingers wrapped around his, too. At his tug, she resisted. “I have to stay here.”

He shook his head adamantly and yanked again, hard enough that she had to roll to her knees or faceplant in the sand.

“No.” Behind her, a distant burst of lightning flashed in the sky, followed by muffled thunder. “I can’t go.”

Zaire sank to his haunches and looked her in the face. Before, years ago, he’d been too afraid to show himself, too afraid that she’d gaze into his eyes and see him for what he truly was—a living nightmare. That she’d reject him and take her dreams away forever.

That fear no longer ruled him. She knew him and loved him anyway. He had to make her remember that they were stronger together. He squeezed her hand to remind her of that truth, a fact she finally managed to make him believe, as well.

A guttural noise came from his throat, and she blinked at him. He never talked in this form, wasn’t sure if he could. He tried again. “Yyyyy—” The word he tried to get out sounded more like a caterwaul. He clenched his jaw and raked his fingers through his hair.

“You can talk?” Curiosity had replaced the fear and sorrow in her eyes.

Obviously not. He huffed a frustrated breath. “Yyyyoooooo.”

“You?”

Nodding, he sat on his heels. One word down. “Mmmmm.” He swallowed. “Mmmssss.”

“Miss?” She gripped his hand harder in encouragement. “You miss?”

He scowled at her. “Mmmssst!”

Her expression brightened in understanding. “Must. You must.”

He grinned, and her eyes sparkled. “Gg.”

Quinn bit her lip. “I need a little more than that.”

“Gggg. Gggg.” He pounded his fist on the sand. Why wouldn’t the word he wanted come out? Of course. This was her version of him, how she remembered him, and she controlled the dream. He tried again. “Ggggoooo.”

“Goo?”

“O!” He snarled and pointed beyond the circle, back to the desert. “Ggg! O!”

“You must go. Got it.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I can’t.”

He gave her his fiercest scowl.

“You don’t understand.” The fear returned to her eyes. “Out there, there are these people, bad people, who are as awful as any demon in here. They put me in a b—” Her voice caught, and she covered her mouth with a fist until she recovered. “A box.” She closed her eyes and sobbed. “A special box so no one can find me.”

Rage boiled through his blood, and he had to fist the sand to keep from exploding.

She released a shaky breath. “I can’t go back there. I won’t survive it. But if I wait in here long enough, maybe, when I wake up, I won’t be in there anymore.”

Zaire waited until his body stopped trembling, until the fury decreased to a simmer. He took her hand and placed her palm over his heart. With his other hand, he twined their fingers together, exactly as she had done with him. “Trrrsst.”

Tears filled her eyes again, and her mouth trembled.

He pressed his hand against hers, holding it tightly to his chest, over his heart. “Mmmm. Eee.”

“Do you promise not to leave again?” The desperation in her whisper destroyed him.

Holding her gaze so she wouldn’t doubt him, he nodded solemnly.

She looked past the circle to the endless stretch of white sand dunes, the sky black enough to swallow them whole, the spattering of cold silver stars, then back to him. A shiver rolled through her thin body. “Okay.”

Before she could change her mind, he pulled her up and into a trot. At the edge of the protective black ring, Quinn hesitated, drawing him to a stop. The nightgown hem grazed the black sand and smoked with heat. Her eyes bright with fear, she shook her head and backed up a step, the most distance he’d allow.

He set his jaw and nodded, letting the shadows curl around her, caressing, encouraging. Lightning forked along the black sky, and thunder rumbled, hard enough it vibrated through his soles. Whether girl or woman, his dreamcaster was stubborn.

Her obstinacy was no match for his. Stepping off the burning black sand toward her, he swept her into his wiry arms. Skinny did not mean weak, and as a girl, she didn’t weigh more than fifty pounds. Without giving her time to protest, he strode back across the stretch of black sand.

Each step he took brought changes. He grew taller, broader, stronger. Quinn developed curves and softness as her body lengthened along with her curls. Her nightgown shimmered and darkened, morphing into the dark wardrobe of fitted leather and boots and form-hugging corset. When he stepped onto white sand, he had his current Quinn back. Not that he didn’t love her as a girl, too. He did. But he was no longer a boy, and what he wanted from Quinn was so much more than a boy’s fantasies of rescue and connection.

She released a shuddering breath against his collarbone.

“Quinn.” He waited until she lifted her head and met his gaze. He kissed her once and eased back. “We save each other.”

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she threw her arms around his neck.

He tightened his hold on her and pressed his face into her hair. “Know this, dearling—no matter what separates us, whether its darkness or demons or death, I will always come for you, just as I know you will always come for me. Never again will I doubt that.”

She trembled as she snuggled deeper into his hold, and her laugh huffed against his skin. “I knew you could be reasonable.”

“When it suits me.” He grinned and let her slide down his body until her boots touched the ground, but he didn’t let her go. Every part of him throbbed with need, wanting to claim her in all ways, but now wasn’t the time to indulge that desire, not when her body was still locked in a box, location unknown. “Next time we’re in the dream,” he said, sliding his hand beneath her hair to cup her head, “I’m not going to stop kissing you.” He leaned down and lightly bit her ear, enjoying her shudder. “I’ll even let you remove my clothes.”

She melted into him and kissed him right above his heart, her lips soft and stirring on his skin. Her fingers traced his hipbone into the waistband of his pants. “You’re halfway there. Why stop now?”

Groaning, he closed his eyes. “You know why, Quinn. The Crows have you.”

Her lazy exploration immediately stopped, and her pulse thrummed beneath his palm, fast and desperate.

He took her face between both hands and demanded her full attention. “I’m here, dearling. Stay with me.”

She nodded, her eyes so haunted, so much like the girl from minutes ago, it shot a cold arrow through his chest.

“This is your dream.” He snarled the words, needing to spark her fighting nature. “You’re a dreamcaster, and you control everything here. Everything, Quinn. Help me find you. Help me destroy the ones who keep us apart, the ones who hurt Braden.”

At Braden’s name, she straightened, and her expression hardened. There she was, the fighter she needed to be, and he finally understood the sure-fire way to remind her who she was. She might not fight as hard for herself, but she’d destroy demons to save those she loved.

“Braden and I are free, but if the Crows have you, they’ll use you to hurt us, to hurt Isaac and Stephanie.” He did nothing to diminish the nightmare darkness in his eyes. “Show me where you are.”

Her throat worked. “How?”

“However you wish.” He gave her a wicked smile. “Dreamcaster.”

Quinn paused a moment, thoughtful, then crouched and dragged her finger through the sand in a square. She straightened and took his hand, pulling him quickly back. At his questioning look, she wriggled her eyebrows, still backpedaling. “Wait for it.”

Lightning danced across the sky, coming closer in giant, crackling leaps. In a neat, pinpoint strike, a hot-white arm struck the square in the sand, jolting electricity through his skin and along his nerves. Where the lightning hit, the sand changed to opaque glass, a window to the real world.

“Creative.” He rolled his shoulders, waiting for the uncomfortable zing to ease. “Next time, you could just create a crystal ball.”

“Yawn.” Her bright smile faded at the edges as her gaze fell on the window. “You go look. I’ll stay here.”

He kissed her fingers lightly and released her hand. While he’d never tell her, he was half-afraid to look, afraid to know what the Crows had done to her in the short time she’d been their captive. If she was beaten, broken, or worse. Reaching the window, he kneeled in the sand and leaned over the glass.

At first, only gray filled the space. No, not gray—narrow slits of shadowed light. His chest tightened with realization. Quinn’s view from the box. He fisted his hands on his thighs, red flecks dancing across his vision, and took a deep breath, restraining the rage. At least the Crows had given her air holes so she wouldn’t suffocate. Then again, they’d never allow a dreamcaster to die until they’d used every possible scrap.

He needed more details. “Can you give me some sound, dearling?”

Earbuds appeared on the glass, plugged into an outlet that hadn’t been there before. Glorious. He slipped them into his ears.

Shallow breathing, most likely Quinn’s, was undercut by a rumbling motor. With the added sound, it was clear that she was being transported, a smart move for the Crows. Mundane transportation could carry her anywhere, and no one would give a vehicle any extra notice. From the smooth ride, they were on a well-maintained road, not some country lane. A map would reveal the main highways near the cemetery where Braden had been confined, and Quinn captured. He could determine the most likely route and proceed from there. A rock formed in his throat. And if there were more than one, he could request assistance from the V’alkara. Whatever the new White required in return, he’d do it.

Zaire pivoted toward Quinn. Her face was tight, but the fear no longer clung to her. “When you found Braden in the dream, were you able to look beyond, to the space around him?”

She nodded.

“Try zooming out.” He almost added from your body and turned back to the window before she caught his expression. He didn’t want to remind her where she truly was at this moment, send her spiraling back into the fear.

The view flickered and went blank, as though a connection had died, and his heart froze mid-beat. He didn’t dare look behind him, afraid of what he might see. Praying wasn’t his deal, but he sent a silent plea up to the God she trusted. Please.

His hands shook as he kept his gaze locked on the empty, lifeless window. If Quinn’s body failed, he didn’t know what would happen, if she’d remain trapped in the dream world or vanish, slipping from his grasp forever. He swallowed hard. If he could only have her in the dream, he’d stay here with her.

Light flickered beyond the glass and came to life, revealing a bird’s-eye view, and he sagged in relief. The roof and partial side of a windowless white van—the kind Jenny had warned Braden never to get into, candy offered or not—sped down a freeway beneath a gray sky.

Zaire briefly lifted his gaze to the starry sky. Thanks.

“Good girl,” he breathed. He touched the glass, and the angle shifted slightly, not enough to glimpse the driver. Trying the other way, he felt his mouth crawl into a slow, evil smile. Blue letters scrawled over the back of the van, Hardee’s Hardware. And a license plate. The van veered off the highway, toward a town called Wellcrest.

The van’s details were unique enough that he could track it the same as he could a person. Even objects emitted a particular noise, vibrations he could taste. For the first time ever, he was thankful to his former master for unearthing the unique V’alkara skill. He’d endure being broken a dozen times if it gave him what he needed to save his dreamcaster.

“The box they have me in was made with special materials so you can’t track me.” Quinn’s soft voice brushed his ear as she crouched behind him and leaned into his back. “They were more than happy to share that little detail. So, what’s the verdict?”

He spun so fast, she fell into his arms with a squeak, exactly as planned. Smoothing back her hair, he kissed her, long, slow, and deep. When he let her come up for air, her eyelids fluttered a few times before she opened her eyes.

“You’re a nightmare,” she gasped. “Kissing me like that when we both know you have to leave.”

“Next time,” he promised. “There will be no interruptions.”

“Next time?” She latched on to his shirt and looked him square in the eye. “The next time you kiss me, it’d better be in the real world, and you’d better not do it until you’re fully prepared to face the consequences.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and it took every ounce of willpower not to kiss her again. “I’m going to do so much more than kiss you, dearling.”

“Challenge accepted.” Her eyes sparked with dark fire. She leaned up and kissed him once, fast and fierce. “Now, go get me.”