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“Let’s move on. Maybe you need to tether us together so we don’t wander off like I did.” I didn’t want to meander off the road again. In fact, I wanted to turn around and go home, but the monsters waiting for us there were just as frightening. And Kaylin needed us.
Chatter cocked his head, looking curious. “Cicely, you didn’t wander off the path. The creature hid in the fog beside you and caught you in its trap before we could stop it. You stayed on the path the entire time.”
I’d stayed on the path, hadn’t strayed, and still they came out of the mist and fog to hunt. Shuddering, I nodded, saying nothing.
Are you all right, child? I tried to reach you.
Ulean . . . You tried to lead me back to myself. But nothing seemed to penetrate that fog, my friend. Thank you for trying.
There are so many dangers here. I am glad I came with you. But be wary—creatures like the dreamweaver are hard to fight and they use sweet honey as a lure.
I thought about Krystal, and how I’d always wanted her to be a normal, loving mother. If my thoughts were that easy to read—if my secret hopes about my mother were that clear—then it was a good thing we hadn’t brought Rhiannon with us. Steeling myself, I nodded for Chatter to move on.
We headed farther into the shadowy land. I sensed beings going by, catching whispers of sounds on the slipstream, but I couldn’t understand the languages, only the emotions . . .
. . . a great sadness, loss . . . melancholy . . .
. . . hunger, seething, angry hunger . . .
. . . fear, constant wariness . . .
. . . so tired . . . so very tired but no place to rest . . .
“This place isn’t a happy one,” I said after a while, disengaging from the slipstream. It was too depressing.
Chatter glanced back. “No, the Court of Dreams is not a happy place, although some people—like the Bat People—have their own measure of joy. This is the place where old dreams come to die, where jealousy and envy feed, where people lose their way and creatures can take advantage of sadness, insecurity, and hunger.”
I had no clue as to how long we’d been walking—though I noticed that I wasn’t nearly as tired here as I had been wandering through the snow—when Chatter stopped and pointed. A tall mountain jutted out of the fog, stark against the twilight sky. A large cavern was visible against the side of the granite.
“The home of the Bat People. That’s where we’re going.”
As I stared at the inky opening, a sudden flip in my stomach told me that we had barely scratched the surface of the Court of Dreams.
There were shadows entering and exiting the cave: tall, thin, bipedal, with wings folded back as they walked. They moved deliberately, as if they were in a procession, knees bent, their movements jerky and strong. I glanced at their hands; long talons shimmered like silver spikes. Whispers raced through the air . . . clicks—hundreds of clicks—echoing on the slipstream to the point where I could barely stand to listen.
Ulean howled around me. So much energy flowing through the slipstream. Cicely, this is a dangerous place. Watch your step—these beings are not dreamweavers, but they are the eaters of hope and of love and of dreams. They can be wild and wicked.
One particular shade turned toward us and, in a blur, moved to block our path.
Chatter shivered, but he held up one hand and opened his mouth. He darted his head this way and that to match the bobbing head of our roadblock, and a series of clicks issued forth.
So this is why Lainule bade me bring him along. There was far more to the Fae than being Grieve’s sidekick, and I was only now beginning to recognize how talented he was.
After a moment, the blurred figure motioned to us and turned. Chatter moved ahead, gesturing for us to be quiet but stay close. Peyton and I fell in behind him again, and we entered the cave.
I wasn’t sure if I was expecting total darkness or what, but the cave was an explosion of light. Globes of light dotted the ceiling, easily a thousand brilliant suns, creating so much light that I instantly developed a headache. The intensity was close to blinding, and I held up my hand to shade my eyes in the white-hot chamber. I could barely see anything, but a strange sensation filtered through my body—that of being analyzed, screened, and cleansed. I glanced down at my skin and saw a fine ash covering my arms. As I shook it off, my arms glowed, and I realized that the light had burned off the layer of dead skin on the surface.
I glanced at the floor. We were walking on a thin mesh—as sturdy as stone, but essentially we were on a sieve that allowed the skin to drop through and far, far below, a flame burned.
More terrified than curious, I moved closer to Chatter and touched his arm. He glanced back and I pointed toward the floor. He just nodded, a cautionary look in his eye. I kept my mouth shut, but moved back to Peyton’s side and took her hand. She looked as nervous as I was.
We passed over the mesh and then into a second chamber, as dark as the other had been bright. Plunged into the blackness, I stopped short, unable to see, but then hands—from someone terribly tall and strong—gently rested on my shoulders. Sharpened nails curved around, lightly piercing my Windbreaker, and whoever it was gave me a shove forward.
Too frightened to turn around, I moved as directed. A thick fog began to fill the chamber, and as I inhaled, it felt like I was breathing water. The fog poured into my body like syrup over pancakes, and I started to melt, the same way I had when Kaylin had taken me dreamwalking.
I closed my eyes as the lyrics to Gary Numan’s song “Remember I Was Vapour” began to run through my head. I mouthed them as we moved along, gliding, flowing, shifting. I wasn’t even sure we were still in body, but it was so incredibly relaxing that I ceased to care, just pouring along the floor.
A waterfall cascaded into my body and washed me clean as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Drenching me through, the glistening currents washed away pain and weariness and lingering feelers from the dream beast.
