Part 22 (2/2)

”Do you wish to die?”

”No, sir.”

”So the problem is not motive. What, then?”

Tommy hesitated, then looked anxiously at the shades surrounding him. The fear he was exuding was real enough, even if the source of it wasn't quite what he was pretending. ”The shades,” he whispered. ”They show up in my dreams, whispering to me. It . . . it disturbs everything.”

The Shadowlord's eyes narrowed. ”You can hear the voices of the dead?”

Oh h.e.l.l, Tommy thought. Was I not supposed to? ”Sometimes,” he hedged. ”Maybe it's my imagination. I . . . I don't know.”

”Can you make out what they say?”

He was aware that he was totally out of his depth, lost in a nameless mine field. There was no safe answer to give. So he just looked down at his feet in terrified silence and trembled. Let the undead b.a.s.t.a.r.d read into that whatever he wanted to.

There was silence for a moment. Then: ”I do not think you are a dreamwalker.” The chill in his voice made Tommy's skin crawl. ”Some others believe that you are, but they have never met the dream-cursed. I have. I know how they think. You do not show the signs.”

Tommy's heart skipped a beat. ”The Seer said that I was one.”

”She said you had the potential to become one, nothing more. A thousand children with such potential are born every day, of which perhaps one will manifest the dreamer's curse. If even one. The fact that we take in such children doesn't mean we expect them to become dreamwalkers. It is simply a safeguard.”

It is simply a safeguard.

The dreamwalker Gift wasn't something these people valued, Tommy realized suddenly. Not something they wanted him to manifest. It was something they wanted to isolate. To destroy. They were using him right now as a scientist would use a mouse in a lab, studying him in order to learn how to make a better mousetrap. That's what the dream reports were all about.

If these people decided that he lacked the Gift, they would have no reason to keep him alive. That much he'd known all along. But even if he did have the Gift, he realized now, they would still kill him. As a ”safeguard.”

There was no way out.

The empty eyes were fixed on him. Not an ounce of humanity in their depths.

”It's the ghosts,” Tommy whispered hoa.r.s.ely. Clinging to his original strategy like a lifeline, though it was rapidly fraying beneath his grasp. ”They get into my dreams. It changes things.” He spread his hands helplessly.

The Shadowlord glanced down at the journal pages in his hand. Tommy held his breath. This plan had seemed clever enough when he'd come up with it, but now that he was putting it into action he could see gaping holes in it, a mile wide. Had this creature spotted them as well?

The Shadowlord looked at him. The empty eyes flashed green in the darkness, like a cat's. Then he whispered something incomprehensible, breathing wordless sounds into the dank chamber. The spirits that had been hovering around Tommy left him, drawn to the pale creature as if to a magnet. Soon all the broken souls that were in the chamber were circling about the Shadowlord.

”Now there are no ghosts to distract you,” the creature said coldly. ”I will read your next set of dreams tomorrow evening. If they lack the signs I'm looking for, this experiment will end. Do we understand each other?”

Tommy didn't dare meet his eyes. ”Yes, sir,” he whispered, looking down. ”I understand.”

Then the Shadowlord turned and left the chamber without another word, ghostly soul fragments fluttering behind him. A moment later the entire retinue all pa.s.sed out of Tommy's sight, living and dead, and he heard the elevator carry them all away.

And he was alone. At last!

Reaching out with a trembling hand to a squat stalagmite nearby, he lowered himself slowly down onto it. His legs were so weak they could not have supported him a moment longer, and his chest was so tight he could hardly draw a breath. But . . . the ghosts were gone. He'd taken a terrible chance in order to get rid of them, but it had paid off in the end. No one was spying on him any more. And even more important, he'd proven that the Shadowlords weren't omniscient. They could be fooled, just like anyone. There was some hope in that, right?

One more day, he reminded himself grimly. That's all I have left, before this guy declares me a fraud.

Shutting his eyes, he drank in the wonderful silence, trying to transform it into hope.

26.

NORTH RIVER.

VIRGINIA PRIME.

”WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO destroy the Gate ,” I said.

Sebastian didn't respond.

I was sitting in the boat with my legs stuck out straight in front of me, grateful to have a moment to stretch them while my traveling companions were answering the call of nature. Sebastian's canoe was big enough for the five of us to travel in it, but once his equipment and provisions were packed inside it was a tight fit.

He'd served us a quick breakfast at daybreak-flatbread with honey, strips of smoked rabbit, surprisingly good coffee-and then we'd set off down the river. I'd been too nervous to eat much, and now the hunger pangs in my stomach were getting intense. But I still didn't think I'd be able to keep anything down.

”That would be unspeakably dangerous,” he responded.

I looked at him sharply. ”But you know how it could be done?”

Rita emerged from a thick clump of bushes some distance down the riverbank and started back toward us. The guys still weren't visible. Which was pretty ironic, when you think about it. If Rita and I hadn't been present they probably would have just p.i.s.sed over the side of the boat, maybe even placed bets on who could shoot the furthest. But put two girls in the vicinity and suddenly they needed enough trees around them to reforest the Amazon.

If Rita heard our conversation, that was fine. Sooner or later I'd fill her and Devon in anyway. Isaac was another matter.

”You can't use simple explosives,” Sebastian said. ”That would only destroy the physical arch. You're talking about closing the portal itself, yes? Or at least making it harder to access?”

I nodded. ”Is there a way to do that?”

Devon emerged from the woods. A moment later Isaac joined him. Sebastian lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

”It won't stop them, you know. There are other portals on Terra Colonna. If the Shadows want to come after you, they'll find a way.”

”But what if they thought we were dead? Or lost somewhere in time or s.p.a.ce? They don't know that I have a codex, right? What would they expect to happen if we entered the Gate without one?”

”They'd expect you to be lost forever.” he whispered solemnly. He held up a hand to forestall any response; Isaac was getting too close now for us to talk privately.

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