The Waking Dreamer (18 page)

CHAPTER 17

As the bus drove east to Chicago, Emmett tried to sort through everything, reproving his guilt. Ellie had all but killed Sebastian and had tried to kill Keiran, two Bards who had saved Emmett several times over. Killing her, however tragic, was necessary to save his own life and someone he cared about. But then his mind would argue back:
Couldn’t you have disabled her without killing her? Why didn’t you swing at her arm instead of her head? If you had to hit her, why do it so hard?

When his mind challenged him, he burned with anger over those who had fallen trying to protect him and the innocent people who were unlucky enough to board his train. The image of Ellie’s face staring lifelessly at him would morph in his mind into the ashen, flat reflection in the window in his dream.

Emmett had not shared the dream with Keiran. It lacked the gossamer surrealism of his life’s dreams
─
dreams of Amala, which he dared not share with Keiran, either. No, the dream felt
too
real. Sounds and smells were appropriately specific; the air itself held suitable weight; and when he looked at what should have been his own reflection, he saw Ellie’s face staring back at him as if he were looking through her own eyes at himself. It was just like the waking dream Amala had woken him from in Portland and promptly told him never to tell anyone of. What that ultimately meant, he could not say.

He eventually grew exhausted thinking of Ellie and the train. He thought of Amala, feeling her holding his hands in the cave beneath Silvan Dea. And he thought of
Belshazzar’s Feast
, and Amala’s recitation of the words in the air above the king.

Only a few days ago, Emmett had been preparing for a fateful drive through the cold interior of the Florida Panhandle. The words had always been there, seemingly meaningless and yet suddenly now one piece of a greater mystery. As if seeking some affirmation for his decision to abandon his Houstonian
unlife
, he had left seeking purpose in the promise of the open, unending road.

Seated now on a bus driving through the Midwest and seeking sanctuary until he could be cured of a preternatural disease that would likely kill him, Emmett wondered if he had become Belshazzar.

Will I be weighed and found wanting?

The remainder of the bus ride was fortunately uneventful. With nothing to discuss of importance that couldn’t also be overheard, Keiran eventually kept Emmett distracted by talking endlessly about soccer. This had the added problem of confusing Emmett, who required a fair amount of education on how the sport worked and the basic politics of football clubs throughout the United Kingdom. Otherwise, the hours of Keiran discussing the particularities of the Dragons’ current roster held little attention for him other than it distracted him until their bus pulled onto the traffic-laden Chicago roadways.

“Before we head to Nova Scotia, I’m going to need some more money. I have no way of knowing if the Revenants discovered information on our accounts,” Keiran told Emmett as they exited the bus. “An unattached financial source and full night’s sleep would both be ideal. Amala and I have a contact here in Chicago who can help us.”

The Chicago skyline’s glimmering walls of glass that rose in every direction held a commanding, austere beauty to them. With their few remaining dollars, they caught a cab to Keiran’s contact. Between towering skyscrapers defiantly stood a rundown, two-story home with a poorly patched, slanting roof, boarded windows, and bricks littered with graffiti.

Emmett raised an eyebrow at Keiran as he walked past him up the short steps to the front door. Keiran knocked three times before taking a single step back and brushing his hair aside, stiffening his shoulders straight and confident.

“We’re closed,” a gruff voice barked from the other side of the door. “Can’t you read the sign?”

Though Keiran did not look, Emmett did, and he saw a white board hanging from the side of the house. He could barely make out the words Food Pantry 10 AM through a swirling mess of gang characters layered over the sign.

“I have not come for food, brother, but rather to be fed,” Keiran said simply. Something clicked from the other side of the door, locks tumbling and bolt after bolt unfastening. Finally, the heavy, burnished door swung inward to reveal an older gentleman stooped in its frame.

Keiran held his arm straight down in front of him, and with a slow movement so as not to frighten the old man, pulled his sleeve up past his elbow. Emmett could not see the details of the man’s features, but after only a moment he seemed to step back from the doorway. Keiran turned and quickly motioned for Emmett.

The door closed behind them, the old man’s hands turning many locks as he secured the door. A black gentleman in his fifties, he stood slightly shorter than Emmett and was round at his center with a balding, gray pate and brown eyes that squinted behind a pair of bifocal lenses. He turned to regard the two of them, his bristly moustache filling out his weathered face.

Straightening his navy-blue cardigan pullover, he nodded and made approving sounds, stepping around each of them and examining them from all angles. He adjusted his glasses twice before dropping them to hang from a chain fastened to each end.

When at last it seemed that his appraisal was finished, the old man’s face warmed considerably, and he held his arms open to Keiran. “I almost didn’t recognize you, boy! You keep getting bigger on me each time I see you!”

The two embraced in the narrow hallway, and Emmett finally began to look around the home that they had stepped into. Nondescript but otherwise pleasant, the home had low ceilings and old wood floors. Framed portraits of an old woman and young girl lined the walls, neither of whom Emmett recognized.

“The examination was a bit much, don’t you think?”

The old man waved a hand at him. “This old man’s eyes had to be sure, the way they play tricks on me nowadays.”

“Emmett, this is Mr. Derrick Williams.”

Emmett held a hand out and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Call me Derrick, son. ‘Sir’ was my father.”

“I’m glad to see the house is still standing, albeit in some state of disrepair. Why don’t you let us pay for a renovation?”

“Ah, don’t you start with me. You just walked in. Everything’s new nowadays. Developers would rip this place right out from under me if I weren’t serving meals here five times a week. Vultures,” he cursed before motioning for them to follow.

They stepped into a small kitchen not much wider than their train compartment. A metal table with a pair of folding chairs was cluttered with unopened mail and clipped coupons. Stacked along the walls were tall piles of boxed canned goods and bags of rice, some standing higher than Emmett. As Emmett leaned back and looked down the hallway, he saw cases of dry goods all around the living room between rows of standing racks where all manner of clothes hung.

Derrick motioned for them to sit down as he busied himself in the old refrigerator next to the sink underneath the lone, barred window that looked out on a skyscraper.

“How are you, Keiran?” Derrick asked as he returned with a pair of glasses and a tall glass carafe of milk.

“I am well, Derrick. Very well.”

“And Amala? How’s my beauty doing? I do miss that beautiful smile of hers.”

“She is well, too, Derrick. I’m certain that she misses you.”

Derrick poured each of them a tall glass of milk and prodded them. “Growing boys need their calcium. Drink up!”

Keiran and Emmett both smiled and obliged, and it was Emmett’s rumbling stomach that made him sheepishly mumble an apology.

“We were passing through the area, Derrick, and we’re in need of your help.”

“You name it, and it’s yours.”

“We need to leave Chicago and need money and a place to rest tonight. Five thousand should be sufficient, I’d say.”

Emmett had to hide his blanching face. Making little more than the minimum wage he could earn working at the local drive-in during the sweltering Gulf Coast summers, his discomfort with asking for money
─
particularly in amounts so large
─
made him squirm enough that he wanted to stand up and walk out of the room.

“Done,” Derrick said simply, and noticing Emmett’s poorly hidden shock, he smiled in return. “The special account Annie set up for me just before she left still has thirty thousand or more sitting in it accruing interest every year. The bank is always calling me trying to sell me this or that, but I tell them to leave that money right where it is. You know I won’t touch it, but whatever you need from it, it’s yours.”

“That’s brilliant, Derrick. Thank you.”

“We can buy you airline tickets tomorrow morning after you get some sleep, and we’ll get you on the first flight out of O’Hare. Where are you boys heading?”

“For your own safety, Derrick, it’s best that you didn’t know.” Keiran looked to Emmett in return. “Go ahead and show him.”

Understanding as Keiran pointed to his neck, Emmett nodded and pulled the collar of his shirt down enough to expose the rotting flesh underneath. Derrick made a hissing sound and shook his head.

“No amount of convincing on your part would get you past a row of pat-downs at the airport, not with that growing down your neck. Annie had several old cars in a storage facility. All of the registrations and plates are fake. I assume you’re being followed.”

“Possibly,” Keiran confirmed.

“How long have you had it, son?” Derrick asked, turning to Emmett. “The Rot?”

Emmett felt at a loss for words suddenly, fumbling each time he met a new person and forgetting that they understood his situation better than he did. “Uh, almost a week now.”

“The last new moon?” he asked knowingly just as Keiran nodded. “Cursed things. There’s already too much evil in this world without those horrible creatures running around in it. It must be getting bad by now.”

Emmett shifted in the chair, as talking about the Rot often caused him to become more aware of its gnawing discomfort.

“Derrick’s daughter was a Druid of Silvan Dea. He knows something of what you are going through right now with the Rot and the rather sudden acclimation to the hidden world.”

Emmett stared in mute surprise at Derrick as the words settled in. Keiran had not told him where or who they were going to, specifically, and when he had looked around the aging home, he had assumed that Derrick was nothing more than a kind, old man. That his daughter was a Druid, that he understood firsthand the strange and surreal world Emmett had been plunged into, and that perhaps his perspective was one that Emmett could relate to since he was on the outside looking in, was enough to flood Emmett’s mind with a thousand questions to ask.

“The finest Druid in the world, excluding Miss Amala, of course,” Derrick said, almost privately to himself. Standing, he looked down at the floor and closed his eyes, whispering something too soft for Emmett to hear. Keiran lowered his eyes respectfully as well, and aware that something reverential was passing between them for his daughter, Emmett, too, lowered his head.

“I thank the Good Lord that her mother never lived to see her death,” he said quietly, lifting his head. “Why don’t the two of you follow me downstairs and we’ll see about getting you set up. I just finished with dinner, but there are plenty of leftovers. I hope you like your food deep fried, Emmett.”

Nodding, Emmett allowed his rumbling stomach to answer for him.

Though the surface level and upstairs of the home were in a state of disrepair, Derrick’s basement was almost cozy, with simple, thin carpeting over a concrete floor and new wood paneling on its four walls. A large bed with a lamp and dresser sat in the far corner of the long room, along with a simple sofa, an old television that seemed capable of receiving two, grainy channels, and a kitchenette next to a small table that could comfortably seat the three of them.

“After Mabel passed away, I didn’t have much else to do but sit around the house feeling sorry for myself,” Derrick said from the kitchenette as he looked over his shoulder at Emmett. Unwrapping several containers of food, Derrick set different bowls out on the table for them.

“With Annie running around, the house just got too lonely. I started tinkering down here, making up all sorts of excuses to fix things that weren’t broken. But I didn’t have enough light, so I brought some lamps down. Then the arthritis started acting up, so I had a kitchen and bathroom installed. I was spending so much time down here that it made sense to have a bed delivered.”

“Cheers, Derrick,” Keiran said as he was handed another plate of food. “These are the nicest accommodations we’ve seen in the last two days!” Emmett abandoned all pretenses at refinement and dove hungrily into a plate of fried shrimp, okra, and sweet potato casserole.

“Well goodness, have you been starving this boy all week?” Derrick chuckled.

“Sorry,” Emmett managed with a half-full mouth.

“We ate a bit at a bus terminal yesterday.”

“Vending machines don’t count,” Emmett garbled as he ate.

“And you’ve been on the road for how long, exactly?” Derrick asked.

Keiran feigned a tired expression. “Days that feel like weeks, honestly. I tell you, I can’t remember the last time my face touched a pillow.”

“The linens are always clean here, son,” he said, motioning to the bed against the far wall. “It’s not much to look at, and there’s not a lot of privacy.”

“It’s brilliant, Derrick, really.”

Derrick shifted in his chair and watched Emmett hungrily eating with a satisfied smile on his face. “If Mabel were here, she’d keep you fed for days! It was all my wife could do to cook for hungry kids. The soup kitchen was her idea.”

“Best meal in a long time, thank you,” Emmett said as he wiped his face. “I haven’t eaten real food since the train station.”

“Train?” Derrick asked Keiran, and immediately Emmett regretted saying anything. “Were you boys on a train within the last few days?”

Keiran looked at Derrick as a dark, knowing expression passed between them.

Derrick’s head lowered as his aged hands passed over his face. Turning around in his chair, he stood up and walked to the counter to grab a newspaper on the stove. He handed it to Keiran, who unfolded it on the table for Emmett to see as well.