Drained: The Lucid (8 page)

“Has Amber seen what you did to your face?” Heather pressed. At the mention of her girlfriend’s name, Riley shook her head.

Seven balked. “Wait. Amber didn’t
do
that to you, did she?”

“What? Of course not.” Riley’s face was incredulous.

Madison laid a comforting hand over Riley’s. “Oh, honey.” She lightly squeezed Riley’s fingers. “Don’t make excuses for her.” She looked wistfully in the direction of the café’s front entrance. “I guess this will be our last breakfast here. I’m really going to miss their iced coffee.”

Riley slipped her hand out from under Madison’s. “Seriously, guys. I did this to myself.”

Even James frowned. “I don’t know, Riles. You
do
have a track record of covering for your partners,” he pointed out.

“Oh shit,” Seven cursed. “The bloody thought slipped my mind, but the rotten bastard’s back.”

“Who’s back?” Heather prodded, taking a full sip from her mug.

Seven flicked his eyes purposefully in Riley’s direction. “Sean.”

“No!” Madison squealed and Heather coughed down her coffee.

James squared his jaw. “Where did you hear that?”

“You know I can’t reveal my sources.” A weak smile fell to Seven’s lips. “It’s just a rumor that he’s in town. It’s not like I’ve personally seen the wanker.”

The muscles in James’s jaw visibly twitched. “If I so much as
smell
that incubus, he’ll wish he’d stayed off the grid.”

“I don’t know how he’s evaded Trusics or the Custodes for so long.” Madison looked more flustered than usual. She hugged herself. “I hope we’re not in any danger.”

Heather was the only one to notice Riley’s silence while the rest of the group chatted about Seven’s latest intel. “Riley?” she softly called her friend’s name.

Riley’s eyelashes fluttered in rapid blinks before her gaze came to focus on Heather’s face. “Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Riley forced a smile to her lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

• • •

It wasn’t until she was halfway home that Riley remembered that she had left her portfolio on the table under Heather’s stack of magazines. She would lose her head if she lost that confidential information, not that there was anything within her pile of paperwork that would have exposed the company if an unsuspecting person were to have found it. Between the forms and her personal printouts on her marks, she looked like an actively-seeking single that experienced a horrible first date, not a succubus.

“Tell me you have it,” said Riley. Her words spilled out the moment she heard the call pick up.

“I have it right here in my hands.” She could envision a sardonic smile crossing Heather’s lips. “You left rather abruptly. Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, I forgot I had some errands to get around to.” It was a lie. She hadn’t wanted to be around once the topic of her ex-boyfriend had come up. “Can you tell me when you get home, and I’ll come pick it up?”

“How about I do you one better and personally deliver it?” Heather offered.

“Add one of those sexy brown delivery uniforms and you’d be perfect,” Riley drawled. “Thank you.”

Within a half an hour the doorbell rang. The echoing sound was promptly followed by three consecutive knocks. Heather had arrived.

When Riley pulled the front door open, Heather stood with her hips canted to the side, one hand perched firmly on the angular bone, and the other held the portfolio. She was eerily silent. There was no greeting, no smartass remark, just a cold anger emanating from the woman. Even her breath seemed angry. Her brow had deep ridges and her oversized sunglasses made her tightened jaw stand out even more.

“No sexy outfit?” Riley half-heartedly joked as she prepared herself for Heather’s wrath.

“You lied,” Heather said. Her voice was harsh. She shoved the portfolio into Riley’s chest. “You fucking lied. And to me.”  

For a few seconds, Riley’s brain couldn’t process the accusation. She tossed the leather folder onto her entryway table.

“You’re lucky I’m not going to flick your damn broken nose.” Heather huffed and pulled her sunglasses up to rest on her head. She pushed past her friend and began to make her way into the home. Heather only made it a few steps in before Riley caught her by the wrist. The grip was firm enough to still her movement.

Testing her luck, Riley situated herself in front of her friend. She placed her hands on both of Heather’s shoulders and squeezed the tense muscle in reassurance. “I didn’t want you to freak out in public.”

The action made Heather glare, but she didn’t recoil from the touch. “Of course I’m going to freak out. You could have died or something.”

“A small bruise is far from death,” Riley said in an attempt to calm her friend. She inched her way closer and stretched her arms out. “I’m still in one piece.”

“You have to report this and get a new mark.”

“I’m a big girl,” Riley reasoned. “I can handle it.” She slid her hands down both of Heather’s arms and gave another squeeze. When Heather didn’t respond, Riley offered her a soft smile and pleading eyes. She knew exactly which expressions got under her friend’s skin, and it was only a matter of time before she would cave.

A few silent moments passed until Heather visibly relaxed her once rigid stance. Riley took another step closer and pulled her into a hug. Heather’s head naturally fell into the crook of her neck even though she didn’t return the embrace.

Kissing the side of her friend’s head, Riley pulled back from their hug. “If you want me to live long, you shouldn’t shove stuff at me with the force of a freight train. I thought I’d been impaled for a second.”

Heather laughed and the worry lines on her face dissipated. “I don’t want you hurt.” She blinked her eyes at the first signs of excess moisture.

“I know how to keep safe.” Riley beamed. “By the way, thanks for looking at my portfolio.”

“Like that’s anything new.” Heather rolled her eyes and walked towards the kitchen. “I’ve seen your entire closet and your barrage of sex toys. How’s that for personal?”

“You’ve seen more than that,” Riley hollered after the woman, relieved that Heather’s anger with her had dissolved so quickly. “How about I call for pizza, and we’ll have an impromptu girls’ night?”

“We just had brunch.”

“I meant later.”

“In that case, pizza sounds great,” Heather said, opening Riley’s refrigerator to inspect its limited contents, “but I can’t stay the night. I’ve got a long night of work ahead of me if I want to make my quota this month.”

As cubare, they could both survive on a quarter of the energy collected from meeting the minimum quota, but the perks Trusics provided made for an acceptable trade-off. In exchange for the lion’s share of the sexual energy harvested, agents received a generous salary, plus an inexhaustible database of potential marks. What her employer did with the rest of the energy wasn’t her business. Employees got their share, the energy reserve was kept full, and the remainder went to whatever the board of directors saw fit.

Riley nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“And you have paperwork to complete, right?” Heather arched an eyebrow.

“Right.”

After the pizza had been eaten and Heather had said her goodbyes, Riley found herself alone in her apartment and alone with her thoughts. She retrieved her portfolio from the small table in the entranceway and opened it up. Her lips twisted into a small frown as she looked at the remaining information she needed to fill out. All she needed to list was the name of the mark and the user ID number and the files would be ready for submission.

Her eyes scanned over to a waiting pen on a narrow desk in the living room. She walked over to the small office area and sat down at the desk. Her fingers flexed as if to reach for the pen, but thinking better of it, she took the first piece of paper and slid it beneath the desk and into a small silver slot. The paper shredder roared to life the moment the edge of the document touched its blades.

She technically was turning the report in, she reasoned with herself as the shredder noisily ground the remaining paperwork into thin strips; it was just to the LA County recycling department and not to her work.

August

She hadn’t felt so uneasy, yet determined, about an assignment since her first one decades ago. Riley tiptoed down the hallway, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. Even with discreet steps, the wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet. Steadying her breath, Riley tightened her hold on the large metal shield she’d conjured along for protection. It was a birthday present from Josh, a gift she never thought she’d use beyond wall decor. The shiny safeguard was a stark contrast to her babydoll and heels. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared for battle, or sex.

“Name, Morgan. Gender, female. Race, Caucasian. Age, twenty-eight. Member since 2006.” Her new mark’s account was technically still active on the Trusics’s database even though she had not personally accessed her profile in years. Trusics’s users remained accessible via the dream realm database until they cancelled their free account or stopped paying for a premium membership through any of Trusics’s network of websites.

“Likes bubble baths, books, and the scent of campfires.” Riley rattled off the details that she hoped would be enough to keep her safe. “Currently a student with a goal of becoming a psychology professor.” She bit her bottom lip and recalled what had been listed on the woman’s profile under both the “relationship status” and “looking for” columns. “It’s complicated,” she recited aloud. “You can say that again.” Why anyone filled out the questionnaires to the extent some users did had always baffled her.

Every step was tentative as she peered into each passing room. “Where are you today?” Her whispers almost seemed loud in the still house.

She should have been avoiding this unconventional mark instead of visiting for a second time. She should have reported the unusual mark to Trusics right away so they could take the appropriate precautions. Not only had this mark revealed herself to be a lucid dreamer—someone who is aware that they are dreaming—but she had been able to physically injure Riley in the realm. Both details were giant red flags. Maybe the news of Sean’s supposed return had her feeling a little reckless. Maybe it was blatant curiosity.

A flying baseball bat swung out of a doorway and slammed against Riley’s shield. She could feel the impact shudder down the length of her arms and rattle her teeth. “Hah!” she cheered when the vibrating stopped. “I bet you weren’t expecting tha—”

Her words were cut short when a slippered boot, connected to a long, lean leg collided with the metal slab. Startled, the second attack sent Riley backwards and flat on her back. “That’s probably another bruise.” She groaned beneath the heavy weight of the shield. Her breath caught in her throat as she pushed the metal burden off her body. “Eff me.”

She looked up to see her mark, Morgan. The brunette woman glared down at her, hazel-green eyes pinning Riley in place.

“Therein lies your problem,” Morgan taunted and discarded the latest weapon of choice to the floor. It landed with a thud next to Riley’s head, causing her to flinch. “Because there will be no effing anyone. Ever.” Morgan stepped over the prone woman and headed down the hall.

Riley sat up and winced. She threaded her fingers through her hair to rub the back of her head, feeling for telltale lumps. “You’re crazy,” she called after the retreating brunette. “You know what, I don’t even know why I came back here. Drab rooms, awful lighting,
wood panel walls
,” she ticked off. “It’s a horrible dream retreat if you ask me. Also, a home reflects its owner. Just putting it out there.”

Echoing down the empty hallway, Riley heard Morgan’s voice. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Riley pushed herself off the floor and brushed at her backside. The woman was right. Losing her composure would get her nowhere with the new mark. With a sigh, she followed the sound of Morgan’s voice and found her in a back kitchen, filling a teapot with water.

The kitchen was far from impressive. No stainless steel appliances, no fancy backsplash, no upgraded marble tile floors. The refrigerator was an unattractive yellow with black trim; a motif matched throughout the rest of the room. A solitary vase had been placed on a built-in shelving unit. Absent was a flower arrangement, but not because they didn’t exist here. The back window above the double porcelain sink overlooked a modest backyard overrun with wildflowers. It didn’t look like the product of neglect, but rather an eccentric taste in gardens.

The setting made little sense to Riley. Then again, nothing about this assignment really made sense to her. Dreamers could send themselves anywhere, real or imagined. These were fantasies, thoughts that people shamelessly indulged in during their most private moments. One of the many perks of the position, besides agelessness, was the opportunity to travel without the pesky hassle of airport security. If you’d always wanted a trip to see the Eiffel Tower, you found yourself a French resident or some hopeless romantic. With the wonders of technology, finding the specific desires and wishes of individuals was an increasingly easy task. Of course, Riley rarely saw the outside of bedrooms, even in the most exotic of locations, unless her client had a thing for exhibitionism.

“You used to live here?” Riley’s eyes bounced throughout the home; it was
quaint
.

Morgan turned from the sink to an older gas range. The pilot clicked four times before the flame roared to life. “A long time ago.” She spun and faced Riley. Leaning back, she placed her elbows on the counter behind her. “Why are you here again?”

Riley’s eyes narrowed as she observed the woman before her. She shook her head as if to ward off some of the more outlandish remarks she had for that question. Nothing had ever prepared her for the situation. A lucid dreamer with the ability to resist charm and cause physical harm was not a scenario most entertained.

She considered the question. “Well, I couldn’t visit you if you hadn’t given me permission.”