Pleasures of the Night(29)
And then there was Lyssa, a sweet, wonderful woman who didn’t deserve to be dragged into this struggle. A woman who’d already suffered a lifetime of sickness and discomfort because of her dreams.
But what would he find in her plane? A world he knew only from dreams and a lover who would not remember him.
But the possibilities…the chance to be with Lyssa and explore the tentative bond they shared…to touch her, kiss her, make love to her for real. Skin to skin. The thought was an oasis in an endless existence that had long been as barren as the desert.
“You do not have to do something so drastic,” Sheron said in a low, urgent tone.
“Yes,” Aidan said with a wry smile. “I do.”
Sheron watched Captain Cross move beyond the console to the various slipstreams that formed pillars of lights connecting the floor to the cavern roof. Without hesitation, Cross stepped into the stream he’d been directed to and vanished, gliding into the semidream state of the chosen Medium with an expertise born of eons of practice.
When Sheron was alone, he entered a series of keystrokes and reported, “Cross is gone.”
“You did well, Sheron,” echoed the collective voice of the other Elders. “Perfectly executed.”
Tilting his head in acknowledgment of the praise, he moved to assist the fallen trainees. As he lowered to a crouch, his gaze moved to the nearby desk. “He took the book.”
The feeling of satisfaction was tangible.
“Excellent.”
He kept the knowledge about the other volume to himself.
Chapter 6
Aidan pushed himself up from the coarse carpet where he sprawled, groaning in pain. Every part of his body ached something fierce, even the roots of his hair. As he lifted his head, his gaze searched the room, taking in the pale yellow walls and the two people who sat just a few feet away. They were frozen in place, trapped in a single moment of time.
There was a portly man with one ankle resting on the opposite knee and a notepad in his lap, and another lying on a chaise, eyes closed, his stream of consciousness the vehicle Aidan had used to arrive.
Wincing with every movement, Aidan couldn’t remember ever feeling this dreadful in his life. Lurching to his feet, he reached out and caught the edge of the nearby desk, sucking in deep breaths as the small room spun violently.
A slow, soft click sounded loudly in the room.
Aidan looked at the clock on the wall, understanding that one second had passed since he’d arrived. Time was beginning to recover, which meant he didn’t have long. He knew a guy with a sword wasn’t going to go over well here.
Shoving his physical discomfort aside, he moved to the nearby closet, which was distinguished by its smaller door compared to the two that flanked it. Inside, he found several garments covered in dry-cleaning bags.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the hypnotist was about the same height, but while the man—at rough guess—weighed similarly, his body was mostly fat. Still, the extra large clothes looked as if they might fit, so Aidan grabbed a pale blue shirt, dark blue pants, and belt, then quickly left the room.
In the reception area, a young woman was paused in the process of stuffing envelopes. Looking over her shoulder, Aidan noted the return address—San Diego, California—and smiled. Sheron had done remarkably well considering how short a time the Elder had been given.
Reaching beneath the desk, Aidan caught up the burgundy leather purse there and rifled through it, withdrawing a hundred dollars’ worth of various denomination bills and a set of car keys. He wrote a simple “Thank you” on a piece of paper, slipped it into her wallet, and set the bag back where he’d found it.
Outside the office, in the nondescript hallway that led to the elevators, Aidan found a restroom, where he changed clothes. The overly large pants necessitated some alteration of the belt to secure them around his lean hips, but this took only a moment, and he was quickly on the move. He kept everything with him, refusing to be in a strange world without his accoutrements of battle. The subsequent long trip down the stairs in his weakened state nearly did him in. He stopped often, holding the rail and gasping, while willing his uncooperative body to function properly.
Tick tock. Time was still passing for him, despite what the clocks said, and he needed to reach Lyssa before nightfall.
By the time Aidan reached the lobby, time was advancing full speed ahead. The elevators were once again functional, and humans scurried industriously through the foyer that led to the outside. He wondered if anyone would stop him and question the scabbard he held at his side, but aside from blatantly appreciative female glances, no one paid any attention to his glaive. Clinging to the weapon with white-knuckled force, Aidan longed for the comfort the feel of the hilt normally imparted. While he wasn’t afraid, he felt very much alone.