Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) (28 page)

Before I’d gone a mile, however, a pickup came up behind me and slowed to keep pace. The driver in a cowboy hat leaned forward and stared at me out the window. “Hey,” he called. “Want a ride, sweetheart?”

I looked up, a biting retort on my lips, then I saw who the driver was. I grabbed for the door, flung it open, and hauled myself into the pickup’s cab.

“Yes,” I said emphatically, slamming the door. I reached for the temperature controls on the dashboard. “And turn up the heat in this thing.”

Coyote, clad in a denim jacket, jeans, and black hat, grinned at me. He batted my fingers away, cranked the heater to high, then stomped on the gas and let the truck leap forward on the icy road.

***

Coyote drove me to Magellan, but he took a roundabout route, going all the way to Holbrook and the 40 before turning west and heading for Winslow and the turnoff to Magellan there. He could have saved an hour and a half cutting across country, but for some reason, he refused.
 

“I’m savoring the time,” he said when I pointed this out. “It’s not often I get to go on a road trip with Janet Begay.”

“
Why
are you on a road trip with me? This is
my
dream.”

“So you keep saying.” Coyote shrugged. “Dreams are byways through the mind. They teach us things about ourselves that we need to know. Show us our own fears, hopes, dreams, needs. Though sometimes, it’s just the brain blowing off steam. Synapses firing.”

“I don’t have time to ride down memory lane,” I retorted. “Emmett did something to Gabrielle, and now Emmett is inside my magic mirror. I don’t trust him not to figure out how to use being inside the mirror to his advantage. And with me knocked out, Mick is on his own against him.”

Coyote didn’t speed his snail’s pace along the I-40. Eighteen-wheelers were passing us with impatience. I’d ridden along this road with Coyote before, when he’d gone about a hundred miles an hour, but today, he kept it under fifty. I imagined the curses of the drivers around us.

“You’re here to learn how to fight Emmett,” Coyote said. “Learn what he can do. I’d pay attention, if I were you.”

I tucked the T-shirt over my knees, still cold, in spite of the heater and the fact that we’d left the mountains for the winter desert temps of 70 plus degrees. I was probably lying uncovered on my bathroom tile, and would be this cold until someone laid a blanket over me.

“You’re saying the mirror sent me dreamwalking to learn all about myself and about Emmett,” I said after a time.

“Yep.”

“How do you know?” I demanded. “How do
I
know you’re not a figment of my fevered brain telling me that?”

“I’m a god,” Coyote said modestly. “I can ride your dreams if I want to. You have some pretty good ones.” He gave me a knowing look.

I had no idea whether he was teasing me or really could eavesdrop on my more erotic dreams. I knew he could cause them, from experience. “Stay out of my head, please. You’re bad enough on the
outside
of it.”

He laughed. “I’m not in your head. I’m in this reality. I took the time to drive you this way so you wouldn’t arrive too soon. There’s more you need to see.”

“Terrific,” I muttered.

“Relax. Enjoy the scenery.” Coyote flipped on his radio, tuned it until he found a station blasting country music, then rested his hands on the wheel and sang along at the top of his voice.

To the sound of Coyote singing—which sounded almost exactly like his coyote howling—we slid through Winslow, passing the place where Emmett had picked me up in his limo, and down the rolling highway toward the Crossroads.

When we reached it, the hotel was the derelict mess it had been before I’d bought it, dashing my hopes for a hot drink before a crackling fire. The sun was sinking into glorious twilight, and Barry’s bar was already full, the parking lot overflowing with motorcycles and bikers, a glow of light coming from the open front door.

Coyote drove behind the hotel, where the moon was rising over the railroad bed, flooding the desert with silver light.

I climbed down from the truck, my legs weak from sitting for so long, and slammed the door. The sound echoed through the air, and a wild scream responded.

I froze. The scream had come from out in the desert, in the direction of the vortexes. I scrambled up the railroad bed, dirt and gravel sliding out from under my feet.

The scream came again, and a desperate voice. “Janet!” Gabrielle yelled in the darkness.
“Help me!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I scrambled down the other side of the railroad bed and raced toward the scream. I didn’t hear Coyote follow—either he’d vanished or was simply waiting for me to solve the problem on my own.

Gabrielle’s cry hadn’t come from the direction of the vortexes. That faint relief didn’t make me feel much better.

The growing darkness hampered me, as did the weeds and thorns in my path. I stumbled across the rock-strewn dirt, heading for the noise, only the moon to light my way.

I nearly fell down a steep-walled wash choked with juniper and scrub. Breaking my way free of branches at the bottom, I found the usual sands of a dry wash that flooded during the rains—and Gabrielle.

She lay half upright, propped on her elbows in the churned pale sand. Her dark eyes were wide in terror. Emmett stood over her, his business suit coated with dust, his hands full of white light. The light, I saw to my horror, was coming straight out of Gabrielle.

I ran toward them, shouting wordless sounds. Emmett looked up.

His face was the gaunt, hollow-cheeked skin-over-bone I’d seen in the mirror, his fingers leathery sticks. His eyes glowed hot, the same color as the light he imbibed.

“Janet!” Gabrielle screamed. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was helping you. I wanted you to be proud of me.”

My forward momentum was halted by a wall I couldn’t see. I bounced from a spongelike substance and stumbled, fighting to keep to my feet.
 

Emmett turned back to Gabrielle with the slow, jerky movement of the undead. However, he spoke in the same smooth tone he always used.

“I’m almost finished here, Janet,” he said. “You can thank me when I’m done.”

“Thank you for what?” I pounded at the transparent wall. My fists sank into softness and did no damage. “Leave her alone!”

“You’ve always said she was out of control,” Emmett replied. “Now she’ll be completely harmless. Your sister thought she could best me, do you know that? Promised she’d help me get the mirror, but really she intended to kill me. She tried, anyway. All by herself. But I know how to fight Beneath-magic creatures.” He sped up the stream of light out of Gabrielle, and she shrieked again in agony and misery. “I’ve learned. Fighting you two this summer was most instructive.”

I beat at the wall, unable to get to her. Emmett, who built up his own power by siphoning off others, continued to suck Gabrielle’s ultra-strong Beneath magic into him.

He might kill Gabrielle when he was finished. Doomed to only watch, I couldn’t stop him. But even if he let her live, what would become of Gabrielle? Mick, when his dragon-ness was taken away, had snarled at me that Emmett had not given him life but living death.

Emmett, when he was done here, would have Beneath magic as well as all the earth magic he’d stolen for decades. Beneath magic was tough for the human-born to handle, but I had no doubt Emmett had been preparing to take it into himself for years.
 

He’d stolen magic from demons, witches, the evil and the good, the supernatural and the ordinary. He’d made it clear he’d go after the magic of the mirror, of Cassandra, and now of Gabrielle.

The only magic he hadn’t tried to steal was mine.

I was a mess of Beneath magic and storm magic rolled into one. My own mother, a goddess, feared me. Coyote, a god, watched me carefully, as did the Hopi gods who’d once imprisoned me.

As I stood there, I realized in shock that Emmett Smith’s ultimate goal wasn’t, in fact, my magic mirror. Oh, he wanted it, all right, but only as a tool to reach his next step. He wanted Gabrielle’s magic for the same reason.

Armed with all his power, Beneath magic, and a magic mirror, he could then turn toward the target he’d always been aiming for.

Me.

“You son of a bitch!” I yelled at him.

Emmett didn’t respond. He kept on draining Gabrielle dry, his body glowing like an arc light while Gabrielle wept. A glint in his hand looked remarkably like a piece of magic mirror—the shard she’d stolen, and now Emmett had taken from her.

I wasn’t certain how real this was. Had the mirror made me dream to show me what Emmett had been up to? Or was this Emmett remembering what he’d done, while he was trapped inside the mirror?

Didn’t matter—I had to kill him. I had to do it now. I had always imagined that the next mage Emmett would fight to retain his title of Ununculous would be Cassandra. She was the only witch I could think of who might best him.

I realized in this moment, that the mage who had to challenge the Ununculous was me.
 

Janet Begay. The baby my father had protectively folded in his arms while he defied his mother for the first time in his life.

Crap,
I thought in sinking dismay.
This is going to hurt.

***

I couldn’t fight Emmett without a storm. If he used Gabrielle’s Beneath magic against mine, dream or no dream, he might beat me.

Gabrielle’s Beneath magic was stronger than mine, and she had far more control. I had no doubt that Emmett would be able to handle it just fine. I’d only be able to fight him with the mix of my Stormwalker and Beneath magics, which I’d just about learned to blend without killing myself.

Too bad there wasn’t a storm in sight.

The night was clear, stars gleaming out now that the sun was down, their only competition the brilliance of the moon. While it had been snowy in the mountains, any clouds had vanished to let the air become crisp and bone cold.

On the other hand, in the reality where I lay slumped in Mick’s arms in the bathroom, a storm had been brewing. September could see wild thunderstorms, cooling temperatures letting the tempests build stronger, filling with wind until they let loose.

I could feel that storm, just as I could feel the coolness of my bathroom, not the dry cold of the desert night.

“Mick,” I said as though he stood next to me. “Wake me up.”

I had no idea if he could, or if it would take the mirror, spells, and Coyote’s help. I had no idea if Mick could hear me either.

“Mick.” My voice grew louder. “Come on, wake me up.”

Gabrielle’s screams had become choked sobs. She fell flat on her back, covering her face, while the last of the light streamed into Emmett’s hands.

Emmett turned to me. His skull-like face glowed, his eyes filling with diamond-white fire.

“Time to go, Janet,” he said.

“Mick!” I shouted. “Wake me up! I need the storm!”

Nothing happened. Mick couldn’t hear me. While I doubted he’d left my side, my words must be coming out an indecipherable mumble, if at all.

“I’m glad you figured it out,” Emmett said. “Once I have your powers, I’ll be equivalent to a god. I’ll see if I can take
them
out next. I might not kill you—I like you and wouldn’t mind having you with me.”

I couldn’t think of anything more horrifying than life as Emmett’s pet.

I broke off my next shout. Yelling in a dream was useless—no one could hear.

In spite of the terrifying sight of Emmett coming toward me, his hands full of Beneath magic, I closed my eyes.

I reached for what I should truly feel—the hardness of the bathroom floor, Mick’s arms around me, the cool of the September evening, the sharp scent of the approaching storm. I should hear the mirror shrieking, the wind rising, Mick’s voice in my ear.

For an instant, I experienced all of that—and then it slid from my grasp. I was still in the dreaming, and about to have to fight for my life.

Mick,
I whispered in my mind, and then I let the music of his true name fill me. Last winter, he’d given me the notes of his name, the one only he knew, trusting me with them to save his life. I promised I’d always keep it secret and tell no one. Whoever held a dragon’s true name had full power over him.

I told no one now. I kept my mouth closed and let the name fill my thoughts, blotting out every other sensation, both dreamed and real. I couldn’t hear Gabrielle anymore, and Emmett ceased to matter. I felt nothing—not the desert under my feet or the tile of my floor, not the air in my lungs. Nothing.

I knew only Mick, my love, my heart. Every piece of the dragon name twined my being, filling the empty spaces inside me.

The air rang with chimes, and the tang in the air changed from dry dust to fire. The warmth of that fire wrapped my limbs, embracing me like the notes of the name.

“Janet.” His voice came to me, deep and sonorous. Mick spoke my name in the dragon language, syllables that resonated with the music.

I held tightly to his voice, to the sound of my name and the chimes of his. I clenched my fists and pulled myself out of darkness bit by tiny bit, until I was fluttering open my eyes to see Mick’s dark gaze, his untamable hair, and his hard, handsome face.

“Janet,” he whispered again.

As I gasped, my lungs working, he brought me up to him for a full, fiery kiss.

Nothing existed in that space and time but Mick and me. I had no idea where we were or what happened around us. I only knew that Mick held me close and kissed me as though he’d lived his entire life to kiss me in that moment.

His hands on my back were steady, his mouth a point of heat. I seemed to be in his lap, my cold legs warmed by his.

I hated to let him go. Mick must have had the same reluctance, because he made a little noise of regret as he eased the kiss to its close and sat me up.

I was indeed on his lap, my view beyond Mick’s well-bristled jaw that of tiled walls and floor, and a drainpipe.

“Need to … stop Emmett,” I said breathily.

“I know.” Mick was far too calm. “That’s why we’re here.”