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“No taxes for life.” The dwarf tugs at his beard. “For you and your companies.”
“And my colleagues.” Valerian nods my way.
“Fine.” The dwarf looks like he’s swallowed a particularly scaly ri, living up to the frugal stereotype his kind loathes.
“Also, Gomorrah citizenships,” Felix blurts. “For those of us who were born elsewhere.”
“Done,” the elf says. “Let’s not waste valuable time on trivialities.”
Grunting in approval, Valerian terminates the call and examines something in his VR.
“What did you mean before?” I ask him. “The whole ‘me’ business.”
“No reason for any of you to go with me,” he says, only partially paying attention. “My illusionist powers combined with the presence of the Enforcers should be all that’s needed.”
Itzel’s shoulders stiffen. “My grandfather was kidnapped. I’m going.”
“And I refuse to miss the fun,” Kit says. “So I’m going as well.”
“I’m with Itzel,” Ariel says.
“And I’m with Ariel,” Felix says, though he sounds a lot less enthusiastic.
“Well, I could actually be useful,” I say. “If something goes awry, I’ll drop a sleep grenade and invade the pucker’s dreams to learn what we need.”
Valerian finally stops what he was doing and pins me with an intent stare. “You won’t put yourself into any danger.”
“Deal,” I say.
“Fine.” He tells his car an address—no doubt our first morgue destination.
As our ride whooshes forward, I tug on Valerian’s sleeve and whisper, “Did you move Mom?”
Nodding, he gestures around, and LEGO letters show up:
In your inbox is the address of the new hospital. I chose the second place where her gnome doctor does his rounds.
Wow. I could kiss him right now, microbiome or not. Now it should be easier to focus on the task at hand—which apparently consists of nothing less than saving millions.
Ugh. Since when do I do things like this? Did I catch hero tendencies from Felix, Kit, and Ariel? After all, they did once participate in an epic battle to save multiple Otherlands, including Earth. I wonder… if I do save the day, would that help me forgive myself for Mom’s—
“Why the long face?” Ariel asks, yanking me out of my musings.
“Feeling guilty,” I reply before I can catch myself.
Felix’s unibrow dances a complicated jig on his forehead. “What about?”
After a moment of hesitation, I tell them everything: how Mom always asked me never to dreamwalk in her, our fight, and her resulting attempt at suicide.
Everyone digests the info in silence for a few beats, even the usually carefree Kit.
“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Felix finally says.
I lift an eyebrow.
“Did you ask yourself why?” he says.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I think he’s wondering why your mother didn’t want you to dreamwalk in her that badly,” Ariel says.
The question hits me like a centaur hoof to the head.
Why indeed? Before, I figured Mom had forbidden me out of privacy concerns, but I don’t think she values privacy to the point of killing herself to maintain it.
It’s something bigger. It has to be. But what? Is there something Mom doesn’t want me to learn in her dream world? Maybe something to do with those black windows I saw there?
Something from the past she’s always refused to talk about?
Then again, if it were related to the black windows, she wouldn’t remember whatever it is. And, come to think of it, she always claimed not to remember—about my father and so many other things… In any case, can you really fear someone learning something you forgot? I guess it’s feasible. If the memory is horrific enough, Mom might know to keep me away, even without recalling the exact reason.
Valerian places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I look up at him. Speaking of black windows, I almost forgot about the one I saw in his—
“Ready?” he murmurs.
I look out the window and realize I was too preoccupied to notice our landing.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply and follow Felix and Ariel out of the car.
A group of Enforcers and one member of the Senate Guard are already waiting for us.
Dressed in all black, the Enforcers are armed with daggers and swords, while the Senate Guard has both a sword and a gun on his hip that’s similar to the illegal one that I still have stashed behind my waistband.
I sneak a peek at Ariel to see her reaction.
Like in New York, all Gomorran Enforcers are vampires, their powers a great fit for law enforcement.
To my relief, Ariel is ignoring the vamps, her full attention on the Senate Guard instead.
Of course. The Senate Guard are not vampires. For many reasons, most of them political, they’re ubers—the same type of Cognizant as Ariel herself. Meaning that, like Ariel, this Guard could jump on a cover of any Earth fashion magazine and not look out of place—especially if the issue in question featured Navy SEALs.
This impressive specimen must be extra strong and fast to have gotten the highly sought-after post.
