Pleasures of the Night(71)

“Cross has returned to the Twilight in the dream state.”

Philip frowned, then nodded. “Go to him. I’ll take over in the control room and see what I can dig up.”

“No way. It’s too dangerous. You won’t have a second to watch your back.”

“Fuck it,” Philip dismissed with a snort. “We went to all this trouble. I’m not wasting our efforts. The chances of us getting this opportunity again are slim to none, and you know it.”

“So we find another way. An engagement like this can’t be done with only one man.”

“You’re wasting time. And your breath.”

Connor growled low and then cursed. He had no choice, he had to go to Aidan, and he knew that once he left, Philip would do whatever the hell he wanted. “You get caught and I’ll have your ass.”

“Deal. Now go.”

Rounding the building, Connor reached the grassy plateau behind the Temple and leaped, gliding swiftly past Aidan’s home to the high mountain, then beyond it. Before him spread the Valley of Dreams, wide golden beams rising from the valley floor and piercing the misty sky until they could no longer be seen. The varying streams of unconscious thoughts spread as far as the eye could see. Writhing shadows and wisps of black smoke betrayed the Nightmares who infiltrated the valley despite their best efforts. This battleground was not the hell that the Gateway was, but the stakes were just as high.

He skimmed the edge, traveling as fast as possible, reaching the valley border farthest from the Temple and then dipping over the rise. There, in the ignored stretch of rocky outcroppings, was the flickering beam of pale blue light that represented Aidan’s stream of unconsciousness.

Connor had been here before, just by an odd bit of chance. It had been a fluke that the barely discernible light had caught the face of a polished rock at the highest point, which had then caught his eye. He’d noted the anomaly as he exited a mission, and his subsequent investigation had led to them meeting briefly, just enough time to know that Aidan had survived the trip to the mortal plane and to see the barest imprint of the Elders’ control room.

Stepping into the cool beam, Connor entered Aidan’s dream. His best friend pictured them on the porch of his home, a comfortable place for both of them.



“You have the worst timing, Cross.”

Aidan rubbed the back of his neck as Connor approached. “As bad as my suspicions were, the reality is worse.”

It was the creaking of the porch step that drew their attention to the Elder who joined them. The deep shadows created by the large hood hid the identity of their visitor, but the way Aidan stiffened set Connor on alert. Not in time, though.

Before he could guess the coming events, the cowl fell back and Nightmares poured from the depths of the robe.





Chapter 15





Connor felt Aidan withdraw his glaive from the scabbard on his back. Yanking his knife free of the sheath strapped to his thigh, he lunged into battle.

Pure fury boiled up inside him, causing his muscles to bulge with the need to tear his enemy apart. He felt it, embraced it, then opened his throat and roared at the Nightmares that swarmed around them.

The sound swelled and then rippled outward. Filled with fury and frustration, his yell was fearsome, and the Nightmares writhed away from it, some of them frightened enough to dissipate into puffs of foul-smelling ash. They screamed their children’s cries, which incited Aidan into a frenzy of such magnitude, Connor paused in mid-swing to watch in admiration. There was a reason Aidan Cross was the best of the Elite—he was a badass motherfucker when it came to wielding a glaive.

The Nightmares recoiled, swirling insidiously around them. Pumped up with aggression, Connor leaped toward the shadowy forms with his blade leading the way. Aidan was with him, fighting with vigor such as Connor had not seen from him in many years.

With his focus divided between Aidan and the Nightmares, Connor failed to notice that they were no longer alone with their enemy until it was too late. Before he understood what was happening, hundreds of Elders rushed up behind them, glaives flashing. Soon the entire grassy expanse was hidden by a sea of gray-robed figures and the Nightmares they fought. They spread outward like a growing stain, surrounding the porch and sides of the house.

Connor couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, but at the moment he didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him was the Nightmares, and killing every single one of them. With the help of the Elders, that goal was achievable.

There is a moment in every battle when the winds of fate change direction. Warriors of every kind know it instinctively. It comes to them in a rush of adrenaline, a surge of power, a howl of victory.