The darkness was starting to gray out. The sand under my feet fading away. Desperate, I blurted out, “Is it possible? With the help of a Faerie drug, could the nightmares cross over? Could they harm mortals if given form by glamour?”
Kyran’s form was hazy by the time he smiled, once again lifting a single shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “I think you’re looking in the wrong realm, planeweaver. Only those who are sleeping journey here. If your mortals are awake when their fears take form, you should be talking to the light court about their realm of daydreams.”
Then the gray fog thickened, becoming heavy and obscuring everything, as my consciousness returned to mortal reality.
? ? ?
I gasped, going from deep sleep to wide awake as I sat up. The covers spilled off me, and I felt the comforter against my bare thighs, the dream pants I’d conjured in the realm of nightmares having not followed me back to the waking world.
I blinked in the darkness of my room. The smallest trace of gray light peeked through my shuttered windows. Dawn was close, but it didn’t provide near enough light for my bad eyes. That didn’t matter though. I didn’t need my normal sight to make out the familiar form in my room.
Death.
“That’s an awful big frown, Al. A man might think you’re not happy to see him.”
“No, it’s not that. I—” I stopped and focused on changing my expression. And then reached out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and kissing him lightly in greeting. Because that’s what girlfriends did, right? Man, I sucked at this.
“Hi,” I said, which caused him to smile. An expression I felt against my lips rather than saw.
“Hi,” he said in return before kissing me again. A much deeper kiss than I’d greeted him with.
I tried to abandon myself to the kiss because he was Death and he was here. But the conversation I’d had with Kyran had occurred in a dream, and like most dreams, now that I was awake, it was slipping away, becoming elusive. Kyran had said something significant, right as I was waking. I had the feeling it was the most important thing he’d said—maybe the only important thing—during the entire conversation. What had it been?
“You seem distracted,” Death said, pulling back. He kept hold of one of my hands so he could sit on the bed without the mattress becoming intangible to him.
I opened my mouth to apologize but stopped. I was too fae to incur a debt for such a small thing. I couldn’t do it, even to make Death feel better. That realization hurt. And probably would have stung him as well. After all, he was the least likely person to abuse a debt between us. I covered by saying, “I was having a dream. Well, more like a meeting in a dream. I’m trying to remember what was said.”
He nodded, not saying anything, presumably giving me time to work it out. I racked my brain. What had Kyran said? Something about sleepers traveling to his realm.
But that visions seen when awake were daydreams.
The court of light.
“You thought of something?” Death asked, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles.
I nodded, but my shoulders slumped. “I apparently need to talk to someone in the light court.” And I knew absolutely nothing about that court, aside from the fact that their members glowed with an ephemeral beauty. Much more so than just the ethereal glow of the Sleagh Maith, and from what I’d seen at the Fall Equinox, the entire court held that delicate, awe-inspiring glow. They were the muses of Faerie.
Death looked around my small room. “You got rid of your houseguest?”
I nodded absently. “He’s off fighting the Winter Queen’s duels.” I frowned. “Could the light fae be involved in a drug that results in grisly murders? I mean, they thrive on daydreams. On inspiring creativity in mortals.”
“Darkness often takes creativity. I’ve collected many victims of those who considered themselves ‘artists.’”
I snapped my attention back to him. “I—You’re here, we shouldn’t be discussing such morbid topics.”
Death shrugged. “I am a soul collector.”
True. Still, I’d barely seen him over the last few weeks. He was my closest and oldest friend. My lover. He knew my secrets. I could tell him anything. We should talk about something happy. Something couples would discuss.
But the only thing I could think about was the case. And I was exhausted. Either my dream meeting with Kyran hadn’t corresponded with refreshing sleep, or I was running out of time. I needed a tie to Faerie. It occurred to me that Death didn’t know about the fading, though I was sure he could see something was wrong.