The Waking Dreamer (26 page)

CHAPTER 25

When Emmett opened his eyes, he felt no pain in his body. He felt whole and fully healed. That was the exact moment when he realized that he was dreaming.

He was seated now at the end of a wooden pew in a small, empty church. Emmett did not recognize where he was but recognized the startling clarity of his senses: how the light reflected off of the silver candelabras on the table at the front of the church; the smell of wood polish along the rows of pews; the fragrant incense that wafted along the quiet, unassuming air; Ellie’s face reflected in the colored panes of the stained-glass windows.

Not a dream
.

“I did not think you would come,” a voice said behind him, and Emmett turned to see a middle-aged man in the black shirt and white collar of a priest. His face was plain and unremarkable, neither handsome nor ugly, neither skinny nor overweight, and with ordinary brown hair and common brown eyes. Had he not been wearing the outfit of a priest, Emmett thought, he would be lost and forgotten in any room full of people without a second thought paid to him.

“All is ready?” To this question, Emmett felt a reaction in his mind as if a second awareness was present, and he felt her nodding in answer. Somewhere within was a building sense of anticipation, as if Ellie were excited about her acceptance of the priest’s offer, an excitement that felt colored somehow by a latent, primal emotion. Fear?

Emmett tried to concentrate on the priest and found that his mind seemed unable to retain the memories of his face or sound of his voice. The priest folded his hands behind his back and paced the length of the church, stopping before the altar with his back to Emmett.

“Kellner suspects nothing?”

“He is powerful but easily fooled.”

“Anyone can attain power. Few can wield it. Always remember to whom you owe your loyalty.”

A patron more powerful than me, to be certain
, Emmett remembered Kellner saying.

“What do I have to do?” Ellie asked.

“Our contact within Silvan Dea is ready. You attack tomorrow night.”

“I’m going to destroy Silvan Dea,” Ellie breathed.

“
I
destroy it. And the whoring meddler hiding behind the throne,” the priest growled, his skin rupturing as bones protruded violently from his neck.

The priest lowered his head as if in great discomfort, and Emmett watched as the walls shuddered. A rippling coursed visibly through the priest’s body as if power would riven the flesh and bones and explode forth. He raised his head again and the bone quickly receded, the flesh immediately mending itself as the walls grew motionless.

“So your promise remains? I serve you and am rewarded?”

“You would doubt me?”

“I doubt everything,” Ellie responded.

The priest tilted his head to one side as if he considered the crucifix hanging on the wall above him. “It is the irony of your finite existence. You were created with the inherent wonder of one who need not struggle to believe. Yet you squander your pitiful lives doubting everything.”

The priest fell silent, nodding eventually to himself. “You will obey and not question me again, and I will grant you your desire.”

“You will destroy him,” Ellie said. In Emmett’s mind, he saw the image form: Ellie collapsed beside a little unmoving girl, pleading with her to move, screaming for the world to hear the pain that would never fully go away.

“There is only one person who can destroy The Grinning Man, Ellie. If you do as I say, that person
will
destroy The Grinning Man, giving you your revenge.”

“Not by you? Who then?”

“A boy.”

“A boy?” she scoffed. “Kellner said the Old Ones are immortal; they cannot be destroyed by mortals!”

The priest snickered. “Monkeys fumbling in the dark for knowledge they could not possibly comprehend. You would be driven mad and your soul wrenched from your body if you but dipped your toe in the yawning maw that is the infinite and starry ocean of my greatness. Only
I
possess the knowledge you seek.”

“How? The Wights believe that nothing is greater than an Old One.”

“All beings serve a master,” the priest answered. “Even the Old Ones.”

“You would destroy something that serves you?”

The priest ran his hands over the table, and Emmett saw each item melt under his touch. Again, Emmett felt the rush of excitement and fear from Ellie.

“If it suits me,” the priest answered, turning now to face Ellie.

Something shifted in his expression as he looked at Ellie. As a sinister grin spread across his unremarkable face, his brown eyes suddenly turned black.

When the priest spoke now, his voice felt colder and more brittle. “Oh, now this is quite interesting? Spying into the … future, perhaps? No, no, it’s your past, isn’t it? You have taken a new form again; I did not recognize you. And though I have missed our conversations, I see you are still not ready for your Master. You will leave now, Waking Dreamer. For all your untapped power, you are, in fact, entirely powerless to stop me killing all those you hold dear. Go and gestate in life’s womb some more, never forgetting from whom your power emanates. And to whom you will one day serve.”

Without preamble, the priest waved his hand dismissively, and Emmett felt himself violently ripped from Ellie’s body and sent careening backward into a bottomless void where the terrified screams of his plummeting consciousness echoed unanswered.

CHAPTER 26

Emmett sat upright with such sudden force that it was only Amala’s lightning-fast reflexes and, apparently, the fact that she was beside him, that kept him from toppling over.

“Easy, Emmett.”

The deep, resounding soreness in his chest stretched through him with an explosion of pain, and Emmett nodded as he ground his teeth and managed to steady his labored breathing.

He saw that he was still in back of the van. Keiran and Oliver lay beside him, their faces cleaned now but seemingly asleep. Rhiannon was driving the van.

“How long?” Emmett croaked.

“We’ve been driving for an entire day. We’re on our way to the Archivist.”

“You people and your cross-country drives,” Emmett said. He tried to laugh and choked, bringing his hand up to his chest.

“The Rot has consumed more than half of your body. The fever seems to have worsened it. But we are almost to the Archivist. She will heal you and guide us on the next steps of our journey.”

“How are you?” Emmett asked, feeling lost in her eyes and unsure where to begin with all he wanted to say to her.

“Rhiannon and I have been tracking you both since you left Chicago. We only made it to the Lighthouse as you were leaving, and with a Revenant sect following us, had no time to stop you.”

Emmett nodded, trying to sit up and feeling Amala’s steadying hand behind him. “Is Keiran okay?” he asked, and it was a measure of how much Keiran’s friendship meant to him that he did not flinch at the expression Amala’s face undertook when she looked at him.

“He’ll be fine, Emmett. They need their rest, but they should be awake soon.”

Emmett saw that her other hand was resting on his leg, and he stared dumbly at it for what felt like an eternity. It was a woman he hardly knew, and yet had spent each night with throughout his life. The adventure he faced may have been precipitated by the Revenant’s attack, but it was with Amala that it had begun.

Emmett looked into her eyes and made to whisper to her. She leaned in close enough that her ear was to his lips, sending a shudder through his body even as he tasted the air around her. “Amala, what is the Waking Dreamer?”

For as long as Emmett lived, he would never be able to adequately describe the expression that night on Amala’s face. It was a countenance possessed of so many conflicting emotions that he doubted even she could acknowledge them: understanding and confusion; confidence and concern; resolution and doubt. It was like everything in all her life and in all the world finally made sense and was, at the same time, thrown into upheaval and chaos. She was reassured and yet still questioning. She seemed to see Emmett for who he was, and yet it was if she had never known Emmett before now.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Then drawing a steadying breath, she whispered back.

“You are.”

“Hold on!” Rhiannon screamed. The van’s brakes cried with anguish as the van careened off the road. Oliver and Keiran flew forward, and Amala braced herself against the wall as she held Emmett to her.

There was momentary confusion as the van skidded to a stop. Oliver and Keiran both were shaking their heads, waking from their deep sleep as Amala set Emmett down and jumped forward to the passenger seat.

“What could be causing that?” Amala exclaimed.

“What happened?” Oliver demanded, pushing himself up.

“What the sodding hell is going on?” Keiran called out, looking first for Emmett and, seeing he was okay, trying to stand and look up front.

The two Bards craned their necks to see out over the dashboard. Emmett, who was still lying down, struggled to prop himself upright but hissed as the Rot squeezed the air from his lungs.

“I’ve only ever
heard
of such a thing before. Never have I seen it,” Oliver said with a voice that alternated between awe and horror.

“Where are we?” Keiran asked.

“Blue Ridge Mountains in the Appalachians,” Amala answered. “Where the Archivist told Emmett she would be waiting for him.”

Emmett saw Oliver and Rhiannon exchange knowing looks.

“Could she be causing this?” Keiran pointed.

“Would someone tell me what the crap is going on?” Emmett yelled.

“I’m going out there,” Oliver said.

“You will not.”

“Try and stop me, Amala.” He dove past Emmett and threw the back doors open.

“Go with him, Keiran,” Amala said.

“Stay here, mate,” Keiran said as he passed.

“Would either of you tell me
something
?” Emmett pleaded.

Rhiannon was still staring out the window at something that she could not take her eyes from. Amala turned back and looked at Emmett. “We’re approaching the place that the Archivist showed you. But there’s something going on.”

“Amala? I need you!” Keiran called out from outside the van. Amala turned and launched out the door without another word to Emmett. Before he could turn to Rhiannon, she, too, burst through her door and sprinted after Amala.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Emmett exclaimed angrily as he cursed several times and was rewarded with a slice of pain from the exertion. He had come too far to not know. With great effort, he willed himself upright and swung his legs out and slid out of the back of the van.

Life as a Druid or Bard must have been one of sensory overload, Emmett thought. His surroundings and environment had already changed more times in the past week than they ever had in his whole life. Once again, he found himself in an alien world. With the damp mud beneath his feet, Emmett looked out on the thick, unbroken wilderness. The soft rustling of falling nettles and whistling of owls were carried on a chilled air that was heavy with the natural scent of raw pine.

The van was parked on the shoulder of a gravel road that extended in either direction to points unseen in the darkness. A hawk’s long cries careened through the silent night’s emptiness as one glided past him and swung low overhead before circling back out over the surrounding forest.

Walking around to the front of the van, he saw the four standing together a dozen or so yards ahead at a point where the headlights from the van seemed to fade into the surrounding darkness. Emmett saw nothing. The four Children stood silently, each tense with their arms twitching at their sides as if prepared to react to something, and the scene was disquieting enough that he had to look behind him once to see if anything stalked them in the darkness.

Despite the pain inherent with any movement, Emmett quickly hurried up to join them. No one was speaking, but it was the first time that he did not see Keiran turning his ear up as if listening intently to the night. They simply stood in the road, transfixed by something that apparently only they could see.

A faint hissing sound rattled in the wind as one of Amala’s black serpents licked at the air behind her. Emmett felt a swirl of movement behind him just as the hawk circled down and landed gently on Rhiannon’s shoulders.

“Do you remember what I told you about ghosts, Emmett?” Keiran asked.

“Sure.”

Keiran turned to look at him, and when he did Emmett saw his expression and understood the gravity of what was happening, even if he did not know exactly what was happening.

“Show him,” Rhiannon said.

Keiran took two fingers and touched them gently to the back of Emmett’s neck. He produced a low hum muffled by the cold wind moving through the trees. Emmett felt his eyes watering, harried by some dense irritation, and he blinked several times.

The world seemed to upend itself, the sky becoming the ground and the trees turning upside down. Staggering with his hand over his head, he blinked again, and his vision quickly righted. Only now, the forest around him took on a preternatural glow, the darkness focusing brilliantly with thousands of sparkling stars overhead, and millions of points of impressive lights twinkling around him.

Keiran was looking at him, nodding as if to confirm that something had changed. Every element of Keiran’s features came shockingly into focus. Out of the corner of his eye, Emmett saw Rhiannon watching him, her red hair now with his new vision a waterfall of rolling fire.

He realized that Keiran was still touching his neck and was mouthing something to him. Focusing beyond the brilliant palette of visual sensation, he willed himself to listen. Emmett found that there was no sound but for a soft rushing. He swallowed heavily, listening for his own heartbeat but finding only the endless wind.

Looking directly ahead, Emmett saw points of light crossing the roadway in a procession of white brilliance. The lights seemed to be passing across in a soft dusting of sifted flour, the tiny, individual points of light almost powdery and seemingly weightless as if they drifted along on wind that carried them.

What am I looking at?

Keiran withdrew his touch, and Emmett felt the world turn upside down once more, the saturation of bold light exploding in his vision and returning to a dull, aching darkness as he opened and shut his eyes several more times. With a disconcerting lightheadedness, Emmett steadied himself with Keiran’s shoulder, shaking his head a few times before finding that the night had returned to normal.

“The restless dead,” Keiran indicated.

“And a haunted forest is a big deal?” he asked as he coughed again.

Keiran shook his head with a grave expression communicated by his eyes. “If a soul is unable to let go, it’s because it remains tethered to this world. Fixed. Unable to move.”

“So what are they doing?” Emmett asked.

“Fleeing,” Rhiannon and Oliver both answered at the same moment. Their eyes met briefly before turning back to the invisible spectacle.

“Why would a ghost flee?” Emmett asked.

The Children shared a mutual, blanched expression before Amala answered him. “Out of fear, Emmett. They are afraid.”

He was certain that no answer would comfort him, and despite everything that Keiran had warned him countless times before, Emmett could not stop from asking. “Of what? The Black Hounds?”

Keiran blinked as Oliver turned to look at him. Emmett immediately regretted saying anything as Oliver leaned over and stared at Keiran.

“Few things can frighten the spirits of the dead; only those things that are ancient, strange—the aberrant and weird things that have been displaced from the natural order of creation,” Rhiannon said.

“The Old Ones,” Amala said plainly. As if everyone else had been thinking it but not wanting to say it for fear that it might make it true.

Emmett was so close to the Archivist, and once again he faced the presence of something beyond his understanding or any of their abilities. Keiran stared ahead without making eye contact with him, but Emmett knew what had to be going through his mind: the image of the Hag coming once again for Emmett, the only child, the boy born under the Light of Arthur and pursued by Death.

“The area that the Archivist identified is about ten miles up ahead,” Amala said almost conversationally, as if focusing all of them gave them the strength to see beyond their situation. “We will continue there so Emmett can be healed.”

“And the spirits?” Oliver asked rhetorically, motioning with one hand at the invisible procession.

Amala looked directly at Emmett without turning to face the others. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, her face awash in a silent determination that instantly communicated everything he wanted to hear. Everything would be okay. She would make certain of that.

“Let the dead remain dead. Life is for the living. The Archivist awaits Emmett.”