Night's Deep Hush: Reveler Series 4 (8 page)

“Yeah, unfortunately, I do.” And it made sense that the creatures had infiltrated the black market first, and only lately the Agora. He needed to hear more—this was important—but the Echo of Jordan was getting to him. He finally confessed to the distraction. “How about you cut the Echo so I don’t stand here half cocked for my girl?”

Viv raised a brow. “The Echo isn’t running.”

“I can feel her, Viv.”
Feel her close.

She looked at him patiently.

In one hard thump of his heart, he understood. Jordan was Darkside.

And in the black market?

Chuck was a lying sack of shit, and he was going to die. They
had
grabbed her, too. Which meant Mirren could mask a lie in the dreamwaters. Rook cursed himself for being slow—the Echo had confused him. She was
here
. If he’d sensed this tug anywhere else, he wouldn’t have discounted it.

Was she okay? Was she hurt? Had they messed with her head?

Viv was speaking, but Rook wasn’t listening. Was that bitch Mirren testing him? Go after Murs or go after Jordan? If he went after Jordan, would Mirren harm her in the waking world? What if Murs escaped in the meantime?

“You have passage,” Viv said. “When you’re done with whatever this is”—she waved her hand at him before turning and walking into the dark—“come back. We’ll speak more.”

***

“He could be taking advantage of you right now,” Vince said.

Jordan had thought the same thing when Darren opted to stay in the waking world. There were few public warnings about Rêves, but one that was omnipresent was to only dream with a reputable provider. Reports in the news—occasionally even substantiated—detailed abuses to revelers while they slept.

But she bet Darren was happily counting his money and delighting in the promise of more, should her friends show up. He didn’t want Chimera’s attention; he wanted the influx of cash. Had she come alone, maybe he would’ve tried something, but one look at Vince’s tortured mien and Darren had backed away.

He’d set them up to dream in the only room of his apartment, which had been sloppily painted black. He had blankets slung over curtain rods to block out the last of the sun. Jordan didn’t see anything moving on the floors, so she figured he wasn’t a total slob. The Rêve equipment seemed outdated, but it was clean. Vince had held one of the crowns up to her, saying, “You’re not serious.”

That crown was literally the key to meeting up with Maisie and starting a search for Malcolm. “I’m going in. You’re welcome to stay with Darren, but I’m taking the name you wanted—” that of his father’s killer “—with me.”

The plunge into sleep was rougher than usual, and fast. Too fast. When the waters settled and the surroundings became distinct, she and Vince were inside a hookup pad with an enormous circular bed covered with gold satin sheets. Dim lighting couldn’t disguise the thick faux animal fur rugs on the floor—also, she presumed, for rolling around upon. There were no chairs in this bedroom of champions, but three slender metal columns had been set at even intervals in the center of the room, and some kind of harness hung from the ceiling in one corner. It made her wonder if it was for Darren’s use or his visitors’.

Jordan gravitated to a balcony without railings and peered over the edge. An unconstructed abyss.
Why bother with the details?

“I still think you should’ve opted for his flying dream,” Vince said.

“You want that guy suspending you in midair in an unregulated Rêve?” She didn’t think so.

“It appears we are suspended already.”

Vince looked much healthier Darkside than he had in the waking world. His face had lost its hollows, and his body had taken on its former muscle, which was strange because Jordan could perceive no under-manifestation of frailty with her darksight. However slowly he was recovering physically, he was stronger here. Further, his movements had a…
quality
that made her anxious, but she couldn’t place it.

“Who are we meeting?” Vince had been cooperative about the money and the Rêve, but she didn’t need to be Darkside to sense that he was very angry. He’d been sizzling with rage since she’d told him how his father had died.

“My sister,” Jordan said. She hoped Sera had picked up and understood the reservation message she had left at the restaurant, and wondered if Sera had relayed it to Harlen Fawkes and if he’d gotten word to Steve Coll, who then would have to find his way with Maisie into Darren’s Rêve.

“So we wait?”

“Yes.” And cross their fingers. It all depended on Sera getting that message. Already Maisie was late, which made Jordan mentally scan all the variables again, from the fact that Maisie was always late anyway to the possibility that her sister and Coll had been discovered and were being held by Lambert, too.

Vince must’ve sensed her unease, because he said, “I’m sure she’s fine. Even if she doesn’t show, she could be just fine.”

Yeah, but then Jordan would have to use Plan B and risk going directly to Fawkes at Chimera, which would present all sorts of other problems.

“Why don’t we get our business out of the way,” Vince said, “and then I’ll wake and wait for you so that Darren doesn’t get any ideas.”

She didn’t want to sit here alone with only her thoughts—all of them bad—but she nodded.

He looked down at the floor, chest expanding as he drew a deep breath. When he lifted his head again, he looked her straight in the eyes. “I mean you and Malcolm Rook no harm. I am no longer in business with Graeme or anyone else who might want to harm you. I want help
you
, in particular, because I deceived and endangered you before. And I want the name of my father’s killer so that I can do the same or worse to him. There. Do you feel the truth?”

Dreamwater eddies carried his sincerity to her.

“Yeah, I believe you now.” That didn’t mean he wouldn’t contact Chimera, but it was a start. He wasn’t playing for Lambert anymore.

“Now you tell me who is behind the death of my father.”

“Okay, sure.”
This ought to be fun.
“It’s Didier Lambert.” She gave the French accent for flair.

Vince’s mouth curled. “This isn’t a game.”

“I’m telling the truth, too.”
It’s in the water, buddy.
“My sister Maisie stabbed him in the throat in order to get away from him.”

“Stabbed him in a Rêve?”

She shook her head. “Stabbed him in the waking world. At the same time, another Chimera agent was busy fighting him in a dream, though.”

“Didier Lambert,” Vince said. “The one who started this whole shared dreaming thing in the first place.”

“The very same.” Jordan looked over the edge of the balcony again.
Pretty scary.

“That’s ridiculous. Lambert has everything already. Why would he do such a thing?”

“I think he has some megalomaniacal fantasy of ruling the world Darkside.”

“And he has people within Chimera?”

“We believe so. Regardless, Lambert himself advised on the creation of the Agora back in the day, and he still serves as a consultant.”

“But it’s not all corrupt.”

She shrugged. “Corrupt enough.”

“You have proof?”

“We’re working on it.” Fawkes was supposed to be helping with that. She’d missed his report last night when she and Malcolm hadn’t shown up in Maze City.

“So we get proof, then go public.” Vince made it sound easy.

Jordan winced for him. “There’s one more small problem. You know the nightmares that live in the Scrape?”

“Yes.” He’d braced, and the dreamwaters carried the muggy crackle of violence. She knew, like her, he’d had to fight his way out. He was still fighting, in a way.

“Lambert—” she wouldn’t mention Steve Coll, not yet “—he’s one of those creatures. Or at least partly.”

Vince’s face went red. For a moment, he seemed unable to speak, but then he shook his head and drew another, deeper, breath. “I’m not listening to you anymore. You may believe this…this…
farce
. But only because you’ve bought into some kind of delusion. Malcolm Rook has brainwashed you. You need help.”

“I wish I was brainwashed,” she said. Then no one would be in danger. “Medication and a quiet retreat would be just the thing.”

“It’s not a joke.” His voice was harsh.

“I laugh to cope.”

“You’re a Rêve addict is what you are. Sharing some fucked-up fantasy with Rook.”

“That explanation works for me, too.” As long as Malcolm and Maisie were okay. Plus, the sex was good.

He reached out to grab her shoulders, probably to shake some sense into her, but she dodged him as soon as she noticed the black goo on his hands. The more she examined it, the more she found him splattered with the stuff. Up his arms, smeared on his chin. Black, wet goo.

He was still reaching toward her when he, too, saw the tacky, oily substance, and he cried out, his reach turning into a plea for help.

A rush of movement and Vince was thrown across the room, his back cracking against the opposite wall before he slid down into a sitting stupor. His head briefly bobbled to the side.

Impossible…
Jordan knew that rush. It had frightened her at first, but now it made her giddy. She’d seen it in that stupid beach Rêve where she’d met him. “Malcolm!”

“Did he hurt you?” Malcolm demanded, ready to strike Vince again.

“No,” she said. “He was just freaking out.” By the look of him, he was still at it. Happiness made her smile in spite of Vince’s distress. “I found you!”

Malcolm grabbed her in a tight hug, his mouth at her ear. “I’ll find a way to set you free. I swear I will. I’m working on it. Just hold on for me. I need you. I can’t lose you, Jordan.”

She pulled back, frowning. “I’m setting
you
free. This wasn’t how phase one of my plan was supposed to work exactly, but I’ll take it.” She smiled again. “Where are you in the waking world so that I can come rescue you?”

“Wait,” he said, “they didn’t abduct you, too?”

“No,” she said. “Vince stopped me from going back to the studio.” The poor guy was still on the floor, horrified by the black goo on his hands. “And then I arranged a Rêve with this guy named Darren King, and I left a message for that woman Sera, you know, the chef who was with Fawkes two nights ago in Maze City, with the codes to meet me here. How did you find
me
?”

Malcolm looked so good to her. His beard was a day longer and fuller, eyes were stressed, but it was
him
, alive and well and holding her just as tightly as she was him. The mingled emotions in the water were sweetening, and with it came warmth and strength.

“I felt you,” he said. “I could sense you close by. I’m not supposed to be here—could endanger everything by staying—but I had to come and make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m good. I can take care of myself.” He shouldn’t worry about her when he was the one in danger. “Where are you? Where were you taken?” If she held on tight enough, could she keep him? She inhaled to pull his scent into her. He was
hers
.

“I have no idea where I am in the waking world,” he said. “A black market memory scammer named Chuck Langer grabbed me. I used to know him back in the day.” Malcolm shook his head. “But he’s not important. There’s this woman named Mirren. She’s Lambert’s
daughter
, and she’s a nightmare like him and Coll. She says Lambert has kidnapped her son and is holding him somewhere Darkside. I’m supposed to find him.”

Lambert had a daughter named Mirren, who had a kid of her own, who was taken by Lambert? Jordan would have to work that chain through in her head a couple of times. “And then she’ll set you free?”

He rested his forehead on hers. “I don’t know what she’ll do. Find Coll and tell him what’s happened. He’ll know what to do. I’ve got to go, or I could lose my trail. Now that I know you’re okay, I can do this. Kiss me good.”

Jordan went on tiptoe and kissed him with everything she had. His mouth mashed against hers just as greedily, tongues tangling, hearts beating wildly against each other. The embrace of his arms tightened, and he lifted her. She didn’t need a stupid floor with him near. Together they could fly.

“Bow chicka wow wow,” said another voice.

Jordan broke the kiss to find Chimera Marshal Harlen Fawkes’s gaze cruising the love nest. Sera
had
picked up and understood the message; it just hadn’t traveled all the way to Maisie.

Fawkes cocked his head toward her. “While I approve of the activity this Rêve was obviously designed for”—his gaze rested quizzically on Vince for a beat—“your sister has been holding a vigil in Maze City since you and Rook didn’t turn up last night.”

Maisie was in her city, which meant she was okay, too.

“Thank God you’re here,” Malcolm said. “I was drowned and abducted last night by one of Lambert’s freaky progeny. Jordan set up this Rêve. Blackman’s been helping her.” He flicked his gaze toward Vince, who’d stopped obsessing over the stain on his hands and now watched them with feral eyes.

Fawkes held up a hand. “Wait.
Who
set up this Rêve? Because it should be shut down, its operator incarcerated.”