Enter the Nightmare (Harmony/Ghost Hunters #18)

Chapter One

The thing you had to remember about the Hotel of Dreams was that the nightmares were real.

I ought to know, Alice thought. This was the second time she had checked in. The first occasion had been her wedding night. The following morning, she had awakened in the locked ward of a hospital for the criminally insane and been informed that she had murdered her husband.

She watched through the crack in the partially open door as a figure in a medical mask crept toward the bed.

She had only herself to blame. She had not simply reached for the bait that had been dangled in front of her—she had lunged for it. In doing so, she had violated Core Principle Number One of the Ballantine Method for Achieving the Harmonic Life: Do not mistake impulse for true intuition.

She stayed very still in the deep shadows and tried to will away the shivers.

Shivering was not good, because she was clutching a flamer.

It was set to stun, but she had only rezzed it a couple of times and her aim was still problematic due to lack of practice.

Setting the bed on fire by accident would not be helpful.

She did not like having to resort to the weapon—it went against all her training—but she had learned the hard way that a woman alone in the world had to take personal security into her own hands. It was either the flamer or the dark side of her talent.

There were significant reasons not to go full-rez with her psychic senses for the purpose of self-defense.

The results of using the negative side of her talent could be unpredictable.

She did not want to take the risk of sending a potential informant into a waking coma.

It would make it difficult or even impossible to get the answers she desperately needed.

Besides, she hated having to brush up against someone else’s dreamlight for even the few seconds it took to unlock the nightmares. She had enough bad dreams of her own.

And then there was the inconvenience of having to spend who knew how many hours in the demanding mental and physical practices needed to restore her inner harmonic balance. She did not have the time to spare. She was too busy trying to survive. Priorities.

The shivering was caused by adrenaline, not panic, she decided, opting for positive self-talk.

She had been doing a lot of positive self-talk in the past ten months.

But what if returning to the opening scene of her own personal nightmare was causing her to lose control?

What if she was hallucinating? Undergoing a psychic break?

Maybe she was imagining the dead man in the shower and the figure stalking toward the bed.

Sebastian pressed against her lower leg and looked up at her, all four eyes—the baby blues and the amber pair he used for hunting—wide open. It was as if he knew she was questioning what they were both seeing in the other room.

She wasn’t imagining things. The dust bunny was ready to roll in hot.

Now that he was not fluffed up and looking like a large wad of dryer lint, you could see all six paws and his sharp little teeth.

He had even left his beloved sunglasses on the floor of the bathroom in preparation for battle.

As far as he was concerned, the danger was real.

That was good enough for her. Reassured, she tightened her grip on the flamer.

The masked figure reached the bed and looked down at the bundled shape beneath the quilt. In a horrifyingly swift, efficient motion, he yanked back the covers. He raised his other hand in preparation for plunging a small weapon of some kind into what he assumed was a sleeping woman.

Moonlight sparked briefly on the syringe. At least it wasn’t a knife. Maybe murder wasn’t the goal. Of course, you could kill a person quite easily with the injection of a lethal drug. Nevertheless, it was starting to look like someone wanted to abduct her—not kill her—again.

She jerked open the bathroom door, clutched the flamer in both hands, and tried for a firm, authoritative voice. Attitude was crucial in situations like this. She could not let the incipient panic show.

“Stop or I’ll fire,” she said.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Too quickly. The situation became a blur.

The intruder realized that the bundle on the bed was made of strategically arranged pillows and swung around to confront her. Most of his face was concealed by the mask, but there was no mistaking the violence that blazed in his eyes.

He tossed the syringe aside and pulled a pistol out from under his jacket.

A flamer set on stun was no match for a high-powered weapon like a mag-rez, a gun that was illegal to carry unless you were in law enforcement.

Not that her flamer was entirely legal, either, but that was a different issue. Sort of.

“Stupid bitch,” the intruder growled. “Drop the flamer. Now. We’re supposed to take you quietly, but if you want to do this the hard way, that’s fine with me.”

Sebastian, evidently realizing she had lost control of the situation, took matters into his own paws. He raced out of the bathroom, moving low and fast. In the shadows, his target never saw him coming. He darted up the intruder’s pant leg, heading for the throat.

The man yelled and batted furiously at his nimble assailant.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off.”

The door of the room slammed open. Another masked figure loomed.

“What the fuck?” the newcomer snarled. “What’s going on? Where’s the woman?”

“Right here,” Alice said.

She aimed at him and rezzed the flamer. Miraculously, in spite of her trembling fingers, the bolt of energy struck the second man in the vicinity of his chest. He grunted but he did not go down. She caught a whiff of singed fabric, but that seemed to be the extent of the damage.

Should have set it on high, like Vinnie the Broker said.

But she had wanted to avoid murdering someone, and at close range a flamer on full burn could kill.

“Well, shit.” The man in the doorway produced a mag-rez. “Nobody said you would be carrying, but it doesn’t matter. Ditch the flamer. Now.”

“I’m not going back to Serenity Gardens,” she said. “Ever.”

“Got news for you, bitch.”

The first intruder yelled again and dropped the mag-rez so that he could use both hands to fight his small attacker. He finally managed to flip Sebastian off his chest.

Sebastian sailed through the air, landed on the bed, and prepared to launch himself at his target again.

The intruder shuffled backward, bent down, and tried to grab the pistol.

Sebastian changed course and leaped onto his target’s arm.

He drew blood from a hand before bouncing adroitly out of range.

Distracted, the second intruder turned to see what was happening to his partner.

Alice seized the opportunity to shift the flamer setting to medium. She rezzed another little lightning bolt. The shot struck the wall behind the second intruder.

“That does it,” he snarled. “You’re fucking lucky the boss said you were only good to the client if you were alive. But you’re not going to enjoy waking up after getting hit by a mag-rez stun shot. This is no wimpy flamer.”

Alice fumbled with the buttons on her weapon, desperately trying to shift to the highest setting. This was the result of ignoring Core Principle Number Three: Expertise in any endeavor comes with practice.

A bolt of miniature lightning flashed from the doorway. It struck the second intruder in the upper shoulder and spun him around. A second shot took him down.

Startled, Alice reflexively rezzed her flamer. The shot went wild. Before she could figure out what was happening, two more shots from the other weapon sent the first assailant to the floor.

Sebastian leaped aside to avoid getting trapped under the weight of the falling body.

Neither of the downed intruders moved.

Alice turned back to the doorway. It was empty.

A man spoke quietly from the hall. “Please don’t rez the flamer, Ms. Radstone. I’m not wearing a vest like those two.”

He knew her real name. Another wave of near panic slammed through her.

“Who are you?” she managed.

“My name is Owen March. I swear I’m on your side. I owe you an apology. I’m afraid this disaster is my fault.”