Chapter 14 #3
Tia and I exchange a glance before she flashes a nervous smile and says, “Um, just call me Tia.”
“Of course,” he says, his attention lingering on me with disconcerting intensity. I cross my arms and try to look like this isn’t totally bizarre. “So?” I say. “You know us, but…”
“Of course, of course.” He gives a slight bow.
“My manners seem to have disappeared in my delight at meeting you. I’m Sebastian Vance, current president of the Oneiroi Society.
These are some of my colleagues.” He gestures to the others, who nod but don’t introduce themselves.
The woman to his immediate right—silver-haired, maybe sixty—leans forward with obvious interest. A guy who looks barely old enough to be a freshman shifts in his chair, watching me like I’m some kind of specimen.
The rest just steal glances at me but otherwise look at their hands.
Honestly, it’s pretty freaking disconcerting.
“Um, so…you lured me here with the promise of info about my dreams,” I say, rubbing the band of my mom’s ring with my thumb. “Now would be a good time.”
“Please, sit,” he says, gesturing to the single empty chair immediately across the table from him. I glance pointedly at Tia, then back at him. “We’ll stand.”
“As you wish.” Mr. Vance settles back into his chair.
Seriously? Like they can’t find another chair?
Tia and I exchange glances. The dream stuff is freaky for sure. But these folks? Definitely weird.
“You weren’t invited here because of your dreams, Cora,” Mr. Vance says.
Irritation—no, fury—bubbles up in me. “Are you kidding me? Because that’s what the invitation said. Or are we splitting hairs, and I’m here not because of my dreams but because of my nightmares?”
His expression doesn’t change. “You’re not here because of your nightmares, either.”
I catch Tia’s eyes. “Let’s just go,” she whispers, and while I know I should—I mean, come on!—I’m curious. And yes, yes, curiosity killed the cat, but I’m staying anyway.
I force myself to stand taller and look straight into Vance’s dark eyes as I rub the back of the ring like a worry stone. “All right,” I say, trying to focus. “Tell me why I’m here.”
“Your dreams aren’t nightmares, Cora. They’re not even dreams. But I think you already know that.”
I shake my head, trying to look like a completely confused nineteen-year-old. Which isn’t much of a challenge since that’s exactly what I am. “They come when I sleep, and they’re freaking terrifying. I think that’s pretty much how any dictionary would define a nightmare.”
“And yet yours are so much more. You know this, Cora. Don’t insult us all by pretending otherwise. Especially not when you have dozens—possibly hundreds—of questions that we can answer. All you have to do is ask.”
I don’t want to. Asking feels too much like giving in. But at the same time, why shouldn’t I give in? Sure, these folks seem a bit creepy and cultish, but that’s probably because I’ve seen one too many creepy movies.
The bottom line is that there’s danger in my dreams. A danger strong enough and real enough to kill my mother, and I still don’t have the slightest hint of a clue how to protect myself. So if these creepy Oneiroi folks can fill me in, then I’d be an idiot to run away now.
“All right,” I finally say. “Tell me what you know about my nightmares that aren’t really nightmares.”
Vance nods his head, his smile seeming smug in victory. Maybe he should be. After all, the man seems to know more about my nightmares than I do. Then again, he clearly needs me. I have something he wants. But I still don’t know what that is.
“As you’ve already realized,” Vance begins, “you’re not having nightmares. Not in the traditional sense. Like, say, your friend Tia might have.”
“Me?” Tia catches my eye, hers suddenly huge. “My dreams aren’t anything like Cora’s.”
“My point exactly,” Vance says. “What was the last nightmare you recall having?”
She looks at me again.
I shrug. “Just go with it.”
I can tell she’d rather bolt, but she reaches for my hand, as if reminding herself that we said we were in this together. “I—it’s stupid.”
“Fear is never stupid,” Vance says. “It serves a very real purpose.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the hand that came out of the boiling French fry grease at the shitty fast-food place, then tried to strangle me, wasn’t actually real.”
“Most likely not,” he says. “But you were legitimately frightened?”
“Hell, yeah. A monster in the boiling oil?”
“And you woke up.”
“Well, sure. I mean, I think I screamed, and then I was sitting up in bed.”
“Cora, does that track your experience?”
I hug myself, already way ahead of him. “Sometimes. But lately, not so much.”
“Your dreams feel different because they are different. They are dreams, yes. And at the same time, they are not.”
Tia and I exchange glances. Everything Vance is saying rings true. Which, of course, only makes me more scared. I want to run away like a toddler, find a corner, and press my hands over my ears. But I want answers more.
“Then what are they?” I ask, my voice so soft I’m almost surprised he can hear me.
“They’re a journey, not a dream.”
The answer doesn’t surprise me. Haven’t I already told Tia that my dreams take me somewhere? But I don’t tell Vance that. I just ask, “A journey? To where?”
A smile dances at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be na?ve, my dear. You know the answer. You are a traveler in the Nightmare Realm, of course.”
Nightmare Realm. Ice fills my veins, and I pull my hand free of Tia’s so that I can hug myself. That’s what Mom called it in her letter.
“How do you know that?” I whisper.
“We know many things about your bloodline. About what you can do. About who you are.” His smile is soft. Almost paternal. “The question is—are you ready to embrace your true potential?”
Every single person at that table shifts so that they’re staring straight at me. Like I’m a prize they’ve been hunting, and they have me in their sights.
I sidle even closer to Tia, who takes my hand again. “How do you know all this? And what the hell do you mean by my true potential?”
“Oh, come now.” The silver-haired woman leans forward, her voice carrying mild irritation. “We’ve studied your family for generations.”
I squeeze Tia’s hand—too hard if her little squeak is any indication.
“Studied?” I can’t quash the hard edge in my voice. After all, that’s seriously creepy. I look at their faces in turn, my voice level and cold as I ask, “What exactly is the Oneiroi Society?”
Silver Hair starts to answer, but Vance holds up a finger to silence her.
“We study the intersection between dreams and reality,” he says, settling back in his chair as if getting comfortable before telling a bedtime story.
“We’re scholars of the dreamscape. And we know that the barriers are weakening. ”
“Barriers?” Tia repeats.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his eyes study me with such intensity, I have to fight not to squirm.
He turns his attention toward Tia. “Between this realm and the Nightmare Realm, for example,” he says. Then his gray eyes meet mine. “I believe you know something of that.”
I swallow, then nod.
“Well, your particular situation is of great interest to us. The dreamwalking talent that runs in certain bloodlines…well, let’s say we have extensive research on the subject.”
“Hold on,” Tia says. “You mean what happens to Cora is common enough that there’s research?”
“Cora is unique. But, yes, others can dreamwalk. It’s not common, but it has been a part of reality since the dawn of time. We have extensive historical records. Genealogical studies. Statements from Dreamwalkers. And so much more.”
“Dreamwalkers,” I whisper. It feels right.
“We’ve traced several family lines across centuries—documenting abilities, tracking inheritance patterns, observing how these gifts manifest.” Vance’s eyes lock on mine.
“Some bloodlines are more significant than others. Some have the power to shore up the barriers. To prevent the realms from tumbling in upon each other.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I say.
“Chaos,” he says. “Pain and brutal death for millions upon millions. And an even worse fate for those not lucky enough to die.”
I realize with a start that I’m shaking my head. “No. No, this is like some sort of weird conspiracy theory thing.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Silver Hair snaps. “You know better than that.”
I ignore her, my eyes on Vance. “This is nuts. You really think I can do that—keep some mystical barrier from collapsing?”
He nods. “Your family has always been special to the Oneiroi. For that matter, I’ve been invested in your lineage for quite some time.
” His eyes go soft, and a small smile touches his mouth.
“Your mother was extraordinarily gifted. I had hoped those abilities would pass to her daughter. My understanding is that they have.”
His understanding.
Oh, god. He’s been spying on me. And very, very intently if he knows about my dreams.
A chill runs up my spine, and I turn for the door, fully ready to walk out of this tower.
Vance’s gentle words stop me—“You’re wearing her ring.”
I turn back slowly, looking down at the ring that won’t come off.
“You know this ring?”
“I found the band to hold the stone.” A sad smile touches his lips. “It’s good you have it. Your mother would like that.”
His voice is so soft, so tender, that I can’t stop myself from asking, “How did you know my mom?”
He’s silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “We were very close for several years,” he finally says, his voice thick. “I thought we would shore up the barriers together, she and I.”
“What happened?”
“We failed.” He looks so broken, I’m surprised he doesn’t sit down. Then he draws a deep breath, his composure returning. “It is your responsibility now, as you have probably already realized.”
“Responsibility? What? The barriers?” I shake my head. “Do you even know how crazy you sound?”
“Of course,” he says. “But everyone in this room knows we are not. And you know what you must do.”