I could tell he thought it was a long shot, but a few phone calls soon yielded results from one of his guys—the one who was a girl. “She said when she was being held last year, there was a guy named Duncan Mortimer there,” Marcus told us a little while later. He was already on his laptop, typing as he spoke. “No guarantee it’s the same guy, but the odds seem good. Mortimer’s a well-known name. I wonder …”
He didn’t elaborate on what he was wondering and soon found a file on Duncan, including a picture and a few brief stats. Most spirit users wouldn’t have been able to form a dream bond to someone they’d never met, and I again felt that occasional flash of pride at being able to do something worthwhile. When I was satisfied I had all the data I needed on him, we switched gears and spent the rest of the day poring over Marcus’s intel about the facility itself. I didn’t have the tactical mind the others had, but I did have the considerable power of spirit on my side and was able to advise on where I thought that would be useful.
When night—and what I termed “re-education bedtime”—came around, I first tried reaching out to Sydney and again had no luck. That put us at plan B, and I pulled Marcus into the dream. He’d gone to sleep earlier for this very reason. As the mastermind of our breakin, it was essential he speak to Duncan. Marcus materialized by the Getty Villa fountain, examining his arms and hands as though he’d never seen them.
“It never gets old,” he remarked. “You sure you can pull this guy in?”
“One way to find out.”
I’d spent the day memorizing Duncan’s picture and now summoned that image in my mind as I used spirit to reach out to him across the world of dreams, along with what little I knew about him. Duncan Mortimer, age 26, originally from Akron, asleep twelve miles from here. Over and over, I repeated that improvised mantra and concentrated on his face. Nothing happened immediately, and at first, I doubted my own abilities before accepting he might just be blocked as Sydney had been. Then, moments later, a third person materialized with us.
Tall and lanky, his face was a definite match for the picture I’d seen. That, and he was wearing that same horrendous tan outfit Sydney kept appearing in. He looked around with the kind of quizzical expression most people had when I summoned them for the first time, when they didn’t fully grasp that this wasn’t an ordinary dream.
“Huh,” he said. “Been a while since I dreamed.”
“This isn’t a dream,” I said, striding toward him. “At least, not the kind you’re thinking of. I created it out of spirit. Adrian Ivashkov.” I extended my hand to him. “I’m here to talk to you about Sydney Sage.”
Duncan’s expression still looked slightly amused, like this might all be some weird trick of his subconscious, when my words finally sunk in. “Oh, man. You’re him. The cute and brooding vampire boyfriend.”
“She said I was cute and brooding?” I asked. “Never mind. Why can’t I reach her? Where is she?”
“Some place I’ve never known anyone to came back from,” he said darkly. “A place I never knew actually existed until Emma saw it.”
“Who’s Emma?” asked Marcus, joining us.
Duncan looked a little surprised at seeing another person here but then seemed to write it off as part of this odd experience. “Sydney’s roommate. Ex-roommate, since Sydney has new accommodations.”
I was on the verge of a million more questions and then decided to go straight to the source. “Can you picture her? This Emma girl? Like, visualize her in your head and think about all you know about her.”
“Okay …” he said, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows.
If someone I’d brought into a dream could picture someone I’d never met, I could use spirit to reach out and use that visualization as the anchor to bring in the new person. It was no harder than pulling in someone I’d never met, so long as my subject’s mental focus was spot-on. Duncan’s must have been because a few moments later, a slim girl in those same khakis appeared beside him. We quickly caught her up, explaining what kind of dream she was in, which seemed to unnerve her more than it did him. Even liberal Alchemists had problems with vampire magic. But soon, her curiosity won out.
“That’s how Sydney did it,” Emma said. “She was in contact with you through spirit. That’s why she needed the gas shut off.”
“It must be off for all of us, if I’m here,” said Duncan. “I didn’t think she could do it.”
Emma nodded grimly. “That’s where she was the night she was caught. I mean, I don’t think she was there. When I saw her, they didn’t seem to know what she’d been doing.”
“Okay, kids,” I said. “You need to back up right now and fill in a lot more details.”
Between the two of them, they pieced together a story about how Sydney had been making anti-Alchemist ink on the sly and then expanded her operations to shutting down an emergency system that could render the entire place unconscious. I could tell Marcus approved of that strategy, but even he looked aghast when Emma told us what the cost had been of Sydney getting caught.
“It was awful,” Emma said with a shudder, paling. “I don’t know how they did it. It must have been built into the table. I also don’t know how Sydney didn’t just confess when they did it to her. I would’ve spilled everything, but she stayed tight-lipped … at least until she saw them do it to me. She told them she was using magic. It saved me … and got her in worse trouble.”
My heart sank. “Because that’s how she is. You don’t know where she’s at now?”
“Still on that fourth level, I suppose,” said Emma. “Unless they moved her back to solitary.”
Marcus sighed. “Well, at least that answers what those levels are used for.” He looked both of the prisoners over, sizing them up before he delivered his bombshell. “We’re coming to break her out soon. All of you, actually.”
The difference in response was remarkable. Emma lit up. Duncan threw up his hands in disgust and walked away. “Duncan,” she exclaimed. “Come back.”
He stopped and turned. “Why? I don’t want to hear this. It’s futile.”
“You haven’t even heard the plan,” said Marcus, almost sounding hurt.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Duncan. “You can’t get in there. You can’t get us out. Even if you can, what’s next? Where do we go? You don’t think they’ll look for us?”
“I know they will,” returned Marcus evenly. “And I’ll make sure you’re hidden.”
Duncan still looked skeptical, but Emma was clearly on board. “What do you need from us?”
“As much detail about the inside as you can tell us,” said Marcus. “Ideally where the main door lets in. No one who has been there has ever seen the exit.”
“Sydney has,” said Emma. “I overheard. It’s on the floor with the solitary cells, in their control room. She made it sound like there were lots of people in there, though.”
“I’d imagine so,” said Marcus. “If that’s their only way in and out. That place sounds like a fire hazard waiting to happen.”
“It is,” agreed Duncan, almost reluctantly. “That’s why there are so many sprinklers and fire alarms in the place.”
“Has there ever actually been a fire?” I asked. I wanted to participate in the plan but was having a hard time getting over the idea of Sydney locked up and tortured somewhere. “Any reason to evacuate you guys?”
Emma looked to Duncan for an answer. He shook his head. “No. I think there was a fire in the kitchen once, a couple years back, but they acted pretty quickly to nix that. It’d have to be pretty serious to get us all out of there.”
I could see the wheels in Marcus’s head turning. “Any way you could start a fire? Get access to something flammable?” he asked.
“Sydney could light that whole place up if she was free,” I muttered.
“They go out of their way to minimize our exposure to flammable things,” said Emma. Something small shifted in Duncan’s expression, and she noticed it too. “What, do you know something I don’t?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”