The Dream Crafter(81)

Something large flashed in Fallon’s eyes, something worrisome and something feared. “We don’t have time to wait. See if your usual will wake him.”

Laire put her hand on his forehead, and a pulse of light had Nakoa pulling back, his hand coming up to grab at whatever was in front of him, and only Fallon pulling Laire out of the way saved her from Nakoa’s grip.

Nakoa shook his head, coming back to himself. “Where’s Amana?”

Laire’s usual attitude was now twice as strong as she straightened the wrinkles from her baby blue t-shirt and straightened her suspenders. “We were hoping you knew, considering you were supposed to grab her and all.”

“I…” he trailed off, his eyes shifting back and forth, and though reading a book seen only to him. He exited the car, huge and imposing and utterly lost. “I rescued Amana, but she was fighting me so I threw her in the backseat. We’d been travelling a few minutes when I felt her climb over the seat and come in front to me. Then I got sleepy, and that’s the last I remember.”

Laire’s arms crossed over her chest, her head tilting and her eyes doing that blinky thing she did when she was about to call someone out. “Don’t you think it might have been wise to see what she was fighting about?”

“Yeah, I…” It was interesting seeing a huge man cower in front of Laire’s nothingness. “The berserker was in control. It’s hard to think when I’m in that state.”

Fallon clapped her hand on Nakoa’s shoulder, steering him back to the city. “Well Berserker, you better take us back to where you fought Merc. I think that’s where we’ll find your sister.”





Chapter Forty-Five




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She ran, grateful for Merc’s insistence on physical activity, pushing her body to cover the space faster, to get to Merc sooner, to let her be in time and somehow fix everything that happened.

The entrance to the alley, and there were four men, four evil faces laughing down, and a foot kicked out with a solid thud against the prone figure on the ground.

Fucker wasn’t a threat…undeserved rep…piece of shit…

“Merc?” The figures had moved to show the bleeding, wounded man on the ground, gaping wounds and bits of gore and flesh littering the pavement and creating a landscape of pain and death.

The figures moved, she saw it, but she didn’t see. Every bit of focus was on the man on the ground, and she stepped forward.

grab the girl…

Words sounded around her, unimportant. All that mattered was the man laid low in front of her, his breathing catching on every inhale, painful sounding, each move a battle with his body to keep it going.

His head turned to her, and he saw her, through the pain and his body’s battles. He smiled, and even as that little affection covered his face, the light in his eyes was growing dim, muscles trembling in defeat and beginning to fall in surrender, the hand he tried to hold out to her falling to the ground. Why couldn’t this be a dream, where she could fix him, where he would stand and they would wander down a beach again, both of them barefoot and hand-in-hand.

Why couldn’t this be a dream?

…why couldn’t this be a dream?

Amana was awake, but her devil appeared before her, shadowy clouds in those blue eyes. “And now, you begin to understand. What would you have us do?”

The four men who had attacked Merc moved towards them, and Amana flung out her hand. The men flew in all directions, crashing against walls and falling to the ground.

“What do you want?” the doppelganger asked.

“Merc’s hand in mine, a beach outside our window, and Nakoa enjoying the sun.”

“Then make it happen.”

Underneath them, the crumbling sidewalk flowed into white sand, spreading out and pulling the surrounding buildings into itself, making gentle hills, and beyond them, the ocean began to fill, large and blue, a salty breeze tickling her nose.

“Now heal him.”

A pillar of sand formed underneath Merc and built up, bringing him up waist height. She placed her hands over him, but his wounds still seeped and bled, his skin growing ever colder. “He’s barely holding on.”

The other frowned, her eyes narrowing. “That shouldn’t be. He should heal.”

“He’s not.”

Before the other could speak, a reverberation hit Amana, like a sonic alarm on a wavelength only she could feel. “What is that?”

The other looked sick. “Fallon, perhaps others. The Dragon Slayer comes to stop you, and when she does, Merc will die.”

“No.” Fallon had toyed and tormented her enough. She would not take Merc. “How do I end her?”