Dreamfever

I got up as soon as it was light, gathered my stuff, and picked my way past the remains of mutilated bodies to wash up in the river. Everything, including me, was splattered with blood. I waded into the shallows, cupped my hands, and drank deeply before washing. I needed water, it was running rapid and crystal-clear, I couldn‘t build a fire to boil it, and I had to believe that, after all I‘d lived through, I was surely slated for a more meaningful death than by waterborne parasite.

 

After I washed up, I moved into the forest. Finding food was at the top of my to-do list today. Although there was plenty of raw meat lying around, I‘d rather not.

 

I passed corpse after corpse. A lot were small, delicate creatures that couldn‘t possibly have presented a threat to me. They hadn‘t been eaten. They‘d been killed for the kill. After about twenty minutes, I realized I was being followed.

 

I turned. The monster was back, and once again it was slate gray with yellow eyes. My pouch was still tied to its horns. Tatters of my sweater were knotted around its leg.

 

―You‘re IYD, aren‘t you? It did work. You‘re what Barrons kept beneath his garage, and he sent you to protect me. But you‘re not the brightest bulb in the box. All you know how to do is kill. Everything but me, right? You keep me alive.‖

 

The monster, of course, said nothing.

 

I was nearly certain of it. After the second mass slaughter, I‘d lain awake, waiting for the sun to rise high enough in the sky to go foraging, pondering possibilities. It was the only one that explained why the monster wasn‘t killing me. When it had first tried to attack me yesterday, it must have smelled Barrons on me. And it was the scent of him that was keeping it at bay. I made a mental note to not wash very well, no matter how dirty I got.

 

―So, what‘s the plan? Do you keep me alive until he finds me?‖

 

Was this killing machine what would have shown up on Halloween if I‘d dialed IYD then? I couldn‘t see it being any use against the LM and the Fae Princes, but if I‘d summoned it during the riots, or even shortly after instead of holing up in the church, it certainly could have cleared my path and led me somewhere safe, where the LM might never have found me. I examined it. It stared back through matted, bloodied hair. Rage blazed in its gaze, and something wilder, more frightening. It took me a moment to realize it was madness. The thing was one link in a chain away from total insanity.

 

It had to be IYD. There was no other explanation for it. How had Barrons captured the thing?

 

How did he make it obey him? How had he kept it from killing him? By mystical means? As usual where Barrons was concerned, I had nothing but questions and no answers. When I was finally back in my own world, he wasn‘t getting out of answering some. I knew what he kept beneath his garage now, and I wanted to know more.

 

As I studied its savage face, the eyes deep with psychotic rage, its powerful body built for killing, I realized I was no longer afraid of it. I knew in my bones the thing was not going to kill me. It was going to slaughter and decimate every living thing around me, and piss, and probably collect anything of mine I was careless enough to let get away from me. It might even want to kill me, but it wouldn‘t, because it was IYD and its sole purpose was to make sure I didn‘t die. I felt like half the weight of the world had just slid from my shoulders. I could do this. I had a weapon I hadn‘t known about: a guardian demon. It occurred to me that I didn‘t even need to retrieve my stones. Barrons could get them when he showed up. There went another quarter of the world off my back.

 

I got on with my search for food. The monster trailed me most of the time. Occasionally something rustled in the distance, and it would tear off through the trees. I began to hold my ears when that happened. I love animals and hated that it was killing everything. I wished Barrons could have taught it to discriminate.

 

I found berries in the undergrowth and nuts on low-hanging branches in a grove of slender silvery-barked trees. After I gorged, I gathered them, tying as many of the sweet nuts into my hobo pouch as I could. In a gentle brook, I found fish eggs. A big yuck, but protein nonetheless. Mid-morning, the monster herded me back toward the river, then began snarling and snapping at me, driving me upstream. I figured it had some Barrons-esque agenda.

 

It ―herded‖ me for several hours. The terrain changed drastically. The forest thickened, the riverbank fell away, and by the time the monster finally let me stop, I was high on top of a sheer rocky cliff that dropped sharply, well over a hundred feet, to white-capped rapids below. The river no longer tumbled; it roared and crashed, filling the gorge with soft thunder. I stretched out in a sunny patch on the bank and ate half of my last protein bar. I considered getting up and trying to explore, but I wasn‘t sure the monster would permit it. It sniffed the ground around me for a moment, then stalked downstream and sprawled sleek and deadly on the ground. I guessed it was tired from so much killing.

 

Feeling a little desperate for the sound of a voice, I talked to it. I told it stories about growing up in the South. I told it about all the fine plans I‘d had for my life. I told it how everything had gone so damned wrong and I‘d begun losing one thing after another. I told it about the hell of losing my mind and will to the Unseelie Princes and about Barrons bringing me back. I even told it about my recent trip home to Ashford with V‘lane, and what I‘d learned there, and that I‘d begun to fear there might actually be something wrong with me. I told it things I would never have told a sentient being, baring my deepest feelings and worries. It was cathartic to get it all off my chest, even to a dumb beast.

 

I dozed, too, and woke about a half hour before the sun plummeted to the horizon, cloaking the forest in night.

 

The monster rose on all fours, stalked over, urinated around me, and melted into the blackness, black on black, with crimson eyes.

 

I‘d been ―tucked in‖ for the night.

 

I woke several times, startled by one sound or another. Once I ascertained that nothing was lurking beyond my circle, I fell back asleep again.

 

Near dawn, I was awakened by a storm in the distance, moving closer.

 

A hundred feet below me, the river swelled to a deafening crescendo of rapids crashing against the sheer walls of the rocky gorge.

 

The sky crackled with lightning. Thunder rolled, and I braced myself for a drenching, but the storm stayed on the opposite side of the river and passed me by.

 

It was a violent squall. Thunder cracked and crashed continuously, punctuated by a weird popping, like automatic gunfire. Trees bent low. Rain fell in sheets, soaking the far side of the river. I was grateful I‘d been spared.

 

Finally the storm blew itself out, and I slept.

 

I wakened to a hand clamped tightly over my mouth and the crushing weight of a body on top of mine.

 

I fought like a wild thing, punching, kicking, trying to bite.

 

―Easy, Mac,‖ a voice whispered roughly against my ear. ―Be still.‖

 

My eyes flared. I knew that voice. It was Ryodan. But I‘d been expecting Barrons!

 

―I‘ve come to get you out of here, but you must do exactly as I say.‖

 

I was nodding before he‘d even finished speaking.

 

―It‘s imperative you make no noise. Whisper when you speak.‖

 

I nodded again.

 

He drew back and looked at me. ―Where‘s … the creature?‖

 

―The IYD one?‖

 

He gave me a look but nodded.

 

―I don‘t know. I haven‘t seen it since last night.‖

 

―Get your things and hurry. We don‘t have much time. Darroc‘s here, too.‖

 

―Are you kidding me? How the hell does everyone find m e?” What was I, a big red X?

 

―Shh.‖ He pressed a finger to my lips. ―Speak softly.‖ He raised the weight of his body from mine, flipped me onto my stomach, and began searching through my hair. ―Hold still. Ah, fuck.‖

 

―What?‖ It came out as a low growl.

 

―Darroc marked you. He must have done it while the princes had you.‖

 

―He tattooed m e?”

 

―Right next to Barrons‘ mark. I can‘t remove it here. Come.‖

 

I rolled over, scrubbing angrily at my scalp. ―Where are we going?‖

 

―Not far from here is a—what did Barrons say you call them?—IFP. It will take us to another world, where there‘s a dolmen to Ireland.‖

 

―I thought Cruce‘s curse corrupted everything.‖

 

―The Silvers change. IFPs don‘t. They‘re static microcosms.‖

 

He grabbed me beneath my armpits, stood up, taking me with him, and set me on my feet. I clutched his arm. ―My parents?‖

 

―I don‘t know. I came in after you at LaRuhe.‖

 

―Barrons?‖

 

―He was trying to get to Ashford, to go after Darroc. I was the only one able to get in before the tunnel collapsed on our end. It took me a while to find you. I found this, too.‖ He tossed my backpack at me. ―Your spear‘s inside.‖

 

I could have kissed him! I grabbed my pack and swiftly consolidated possessions, then yanked out my spear and caressed it. Holding it in my hand made me feel like a Travis Tritt song—ten feet tall and bulletproof.

 

―The creature will attack anything in your vicinity. At the moment, that‘s me. I can get you out. It can‘t. It only kills. Remember that.‖

 

Ryodan took my hand and led me close to the river, much nearer the sheer drop of the gorge than I was comfortable with, but I understood why he did it. The crushed-shale edge was soft as sand and made no noise beneath our feet. I looked up at him.

 

―How did you track me? Do you have a mark on me, too?‖ I whispered.

 

―I can follow Barrons‘ mark. Another word and you‘re going over the edge.‖

 

I said no more. If it came down to my survival or his, I was pretty sure he‘d choose his. I wondered why Barrons hadn‘t done anything to keep Ryodan safe from the monster. Given him a Barrons-scented shirt to wear or something.

 

As if he‘d read my mind, he murmured, ―It‘s the tattoo he put on you that keeps you safe from it. No fucking way he‘s branding me. I came in armed. I hunted it all night through the rain. It ran me out of ammo. It‘s one clever fuck.‖

 

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