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“Excellent.” He leaps to his feet. “How about we try it right now?”
“One second.” I turn away from him and use Pom to go in and out of the dream world.
Good. My powers have recovered.
I turn back to him. “Now’s fine. Do you have a place to sleep?”
“This is a sleep clinic,” he says and strides to the door.
I follow him through a corridor and into a large hall brimming with floating beds. On each bed is a sleeper. Some have IV bags attached to them, some don’t. Many are also strapped to their beds, like dangerous madmen.
What the puck?
Then I recognize one of them, and things become clearer.
It’s Gertrude, the New York Councilor who hates my guts. She suffers from a condition that sounds like REM Sleep Behavior Disorder—which combines poorly with her ability to give gangrene to anyone she touches. That must be what’s going on with the other tied-up patients as well: They have some dangerous sleep disorders.
In any case, I’m glad Gertrude found this clinic. I recently learned that she killed someone she cared about in her sleep, so it would be good if she got the help she needs. I just hope she doesn’t wake up and see me; not only does she hate me for not being able to solve her problem with my dreamwalking, but I knocked her unconscious the other day, and she might hold a grudge.
“How about here?” Dr. Cipactli points at an empty bed.
I cast a wary glance at Gertrude. “I’d prefer to do it someplace more private.”
Nodding in understanding, the gnome leads me to an empty room with a bed and medical equipment that reminds me of Mom’s setup.
“Would this work?” he asks.
“Sure. Are you going to be able to sleep on demand, or do you have sleeping gas on hand?”
“Something even better.” He takes out a small gizmo. “A drug developed for my research. Puts the subject right into REM sleep.”
Huh. Sounds like the drug Leal, the dreamwalker from the New York Council, developed. Of course, Leal’s drug had an itsy-bitsy side-effect: whoever took it never woke up again. I assume Dr. Cipactli’s drug isn’t like that; otherwise, I’m about to partake in the strangest form of assisted suicide in history.
“I’ll need to remove my mask to use this,” he says gravely. There’s a strange look in his eyes—embarrassment, maybe? “Will you please put it back on my face?”
I nod vigorously.
The gnome lies down and slides off his mask.
Poor guy. I now see why he wears a mask that covers so much. He must’ve been in an accident or something; the right side of his face is twisted by scars that look like a chemical burn.
He points the gizmo at his face and activates it.
There’s a distinct hiss.
The medicine is odorless and seems to take effect immediately. His eyes start to move rapidly behind their lids.
I hygieia his mask on both sides and put it back on him. Then I hygieia his exposed forearm and place my fingers on it.
Here we go. I’m about to dreamwalk in a gnome.
Chapter Four
Except nothing happens when I will myself to go in.
Wait, no. Something is happening. Something odd.
The more I strain my powers, the more I get the feeling that I have a small voice in my head. It reminds me of how Pom communicates with me when he’s awake; only it doesn’t sound like my furry friend.
The voice seems to be saying, Who are you, and what do you want?
Feeling silly, I do what I’d do if it were Pom. Mentally, I reply, I’m Bailey. You asked me to visit your dreams.
No mental reply comes; instead, something yields, and with a whiff of ozone, I plummet into the gnome’s dream world.
As soon as I show up in my dream palace, I teleport to the tower of sleepers.
“How did it go with Lidia?” Pom’s voice inquires. Then he appears bit by bit, in a Cheshire cat fashion.
“Not great,” I say and bring him up to speed on what happened.
He glances at a nook nearby. “And that’s the gnome doctor?”
“That’s him.” I fly to my target, with Pom next to me.
As soon as he notices the scar on Dr. Cipactli’s face, his ears turn black. “I’m going to stay out.”
“Fair enough.” I touch the gnome’s forearm and will myself to go in.
This time, there’s no voice in my head. I simply fall into the gnome’s dream.
For a moment, I think I accidentally woke up.
We’re back in the exact same room where Dr. Cipactli went to sleep.
Of course, if it were the waking world, there wouldn’t be two of me here. The second me is wearing a cruel expression and holding Dr. Cipactli’s neck in a death grip.
“You leave me no choice,” the gnome croaks out, forming a ball of lightning with his hands.
