Pleasures of the Night(2)

A battery of tests had ruled out a variety of ailments, such as lupus and multiple sclerosis. Incorrect diagnoses like fibromyalgia and sleep apnea had her taking useless medications and wearing painful masks that prevented any shuteye whatsoever. The latest diagnosis of narcolepsy was depressing, suggesting no cure for the weariness that was ruining her life. Her ability to work the long hours she enjoyed had been diminished years ago, and she was slowly losing her mind.

The wrought-iron gate to her condo community swung open and she pulled inside, passing the communal pool area she had yet to use before hitting the remote to her garage door around the corner.

She pulled to an abrupt stop inside with pinpoint precision, hit the remote again, and was inside her granite-countered kitchen before the garage door had lowered all the way. Tossing her purse on the breakfast bar, Lyssa stripped out of her ivory silk shirt and blue slacks, then sank into her down-stuffed couch.

She was asleep before her head hit the cushion.





Aidan stared at the portal barring him from his latest assignment and scowled. The psyche inside was seriously fucked up to build a barrier like this. Metallic and broad, it stood alone in a sea of black. Rising upward so far he couldn’t see where the damn thing ended, it was the strongest deterrent he had ever come across. No wonder the other half-dozen Guardians had met with failure.

He cursed and ran his hands through his hair, which was now graying slightly at the temples. Guardians didn’t age. They were immortal, unless a Nightmare sucked the life out of them. But some of the whacked-out shit he’d seen over the years had scarred him visibly. Weary and disheartened, he gripped the hilt of his sword and banged hard on the door. It was going to be a long night.

“Who is it?” came a lilting voice from inside.

He paused mid-swing, his interest piqued.

“Hello?” she called out.

With his brain slowed by the unexpectedness of the conversation, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Who do you want it to be?”

“Oh, go away,” she grumbled. “I’m sick of you wackos.”

Aidan blinked at the door. “Excuse me?”

“No wonder I never get any sleep with you guys banging on the door with your riddles. If you won’t tell me your name, you can go away.”

“What name do you prefer?”

“Your real one, smart ass.”

His brow arched as he suddenly felt as if he were the one who was mentally disturbed and not the other way around.



“Bye, whoever you are. Nice talking to you.” Her voice grew distant, and he knew he was losing her.

“Aidan,” he yelled.

“Oh.” There was a pregnant pause. “I like that name.”

“Good. I guess.” He frowned, not sure what to do next. “Can I come in?”

The door swung open with torturous leisure, the hinges screeching and soft puffs of rust exploding from the cracks. He stared for a moment, startled at how easy it was to gain entry when he had been warned the task would be next to impossible. Then he was struck by the interior. Inside was just as pitch black as the outside. He’d never seen anything like it.

Stepping carefully into her “dream,” he asked, “Why don’t you turn the lights on?”

“You know,” she said dryly, “I’ve been trying to do that for years.”

Her voice floated across the darkness like a warm spring breeze. He searched through her memories and found nothing unusual. Lyssa Bates was an ordinary woman who lived an ordinary life. There was nothing in her past or present that could explain this emptiness.

The door behind him stood open. He could withdraw. Send for a Nurturer. Be grateful for the easiest assignment he’d had in a long, long time. Instead, he stayed, intrigued by the first flash of genuine interest in a Dreamer he had felt in many centuries.

“Well…” He scrubbed a hand along his jaw. “Try thinking of someplace you’d like to go and take us there.”

“Close the door, please.” He heard her padding away.



Aidan considered the wisdom of shutting himself inside here with her. “Can’t we leave it open?”

“No. They’ll come in if you don’t shut it.”

“Who’ll come in?”

“The Shadows.”

Aidan stood silently, absorbing the fact that she recognized the Nightmares as separate entities. “I can kill them for you,” he offered.

“I abhor violence, if you must know.”

“Yeah, I knew that. That’s one of the reasons you became a vet.”

She snorted. “Now I remember why I kicked you guys out. You pry too much.”

Turning to shut the door, Aidan said, “You let me in quickly enough.”