And so Rook’s suspicions were confirmed about the Envoi Rêve. The way Jordan had originally been targeted made perfect sense now. Maisie was indeed the connection, though he still thought it wasn’t intentional. She was just living too fast for caution. This was her wake-up call.
“If Jordan Lane is lost in this, then my father is as good as dead.” Millions peered out into the unending void. “Tell my father I’m sorry.”
“You were supposed to bring Jordan to the people who have your father?”
Vince nodded “Not going to happen now.”
Rook would never have let that happen. Blackman had been destined to fail. Nice try, though.
“Hold out as long as you can,” Rook repeated.
“There are things out here,” Blackman said, looking around at the empty space.
He was going insane, and yet Rook didn’t doubt him. Not after Joshua, a nightmare with a mind of its own. There were indeed monsters Darkside. Joshua had infiltrated the Agora twice now. And infinitely worse, the nightmare had infiltrated the waking world.
And right now it had Jordan in its grasp.
***
Jordan was naked in a dream, exactly the reason she hadn’t wanted to try Rêve in the first place. She’d known this would happen, and if she ever got back to the waking world, she’d have the satisfaction of telling Maze, I told you so.
She would not, however, waste energy attempting to cover herself. Malcolm Rook had taught her that. She had darksight, a rare talent. And could drown people, scary. And she was tough as nails—she’d had to be to finish raising Maze. So she was not going to whimper and scream. And she was not going down without a fight.
Joshua was not what he seemed.
Where was he taking her? Damned if she knew.
The farther he dragged her, the less he appeared to be a little boy. She’d glimpsed it before, the first time she’d seen him. Her darksight had shown her true. This was not Malcolm’s brother. It was a thing in the shape of a boy. It had climbed into Malcolm’s nightmare, taken it over, and used the kid’s appearance to skulk around, wearing Joshua’s memory as a disguise.#p#分页标题#e#
In retribution for the torture this Joshua had put Malcolm through, Jordan struck at it again. But the boy, unfazed, jerked her forward.
She didn’t care when she fell. Didn’t care that he kicked her in the guts or that her knees were bloody and scabby with grains of sand. She was so pissed off, she didn’t feel pain.
The little fucker was going to die.
Just as soon as she figured out how to kill him.
***
A dark skid in the sand, wet with blood.
Rook could guess whose.
He sniffed, and smelled her. In spite of the wind, he felt a hint of her warmth again, brushing against his skin. The wan light was tinted blue-violet, bright with anger.
How did a man catch up with his own nightmare?
He had the answer now: when his woman was fighting it every step of the way.
***
Joshua attempted to drag her forward by her hair.
The sand had become less deep, the ground harder, like bedrock. The wind howled louder and louder, overriding all other senses. She resisted forward movement with all her strength. She grabbed at her hair, tried to yank it out of the child’s hands.
Much farther, and she’d be dead. He wasn’t taking her home for a tea party. He’d been lying in wait.
Well. He’d picked the wrong Chimera. She was going to drown his ass. Drown him for real, as in, until he stopped twitching. Malcolm had shown her how to reach out with a part of herself—the darksight—and push.
Joshua’s stance twisted, and she knew he was about to strike her again. Her scalp burned at the roots where he yanked her along.
With all the willpower in her body, she walloped him with her mind.
Joshua flew back, taking a fistful of dark strands with him. His body thumped, skidding on his back over the wavering grains of sand.
Jordan crab-crawled away, then scrambled to her feet to run, though she had no idea which way to go. She put muscle into her speed, dived into the howling monsoon, praying it would cover her tracks. The wind pushed against her, but she fought it. And crashed headlong into a wall.
The wall was Malcolm Rook’s chest. He’d found her; she’d never doubted he would. Now they had to go the fuck the other way.
“It’s not your brother,” she warned breathlessly.
“No, not Joshua.” Malcolm’s arm came around her bare waist.
With a shriek, Joshua dropped out of the sky on top of them. He gouged long, bloody lines across Malcolm’s face.
In panic and fury, Jordan pushed again. Harder. With a distorted moan, not-Joshua jackknifed into darkness and wind.
“This way,” Malcolm stretched his arm forward.
She didn’t understand how he knew where to go, but she trusted it and they jogged, arms around each other, into the storm.