Page 49 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“You weren’t invited here because of your dreams, Cora,” Mr. Vance says.

Irritation—no, fury—bubbles up in me. “Are you kidding me? Because that’s what the invitation said. Or are we splitting hairs, and I’m here not because of my dreams but because of my nightmares?”

His expression doesn’t change. “You’re not here because of your nightmares, either.”

I catch Tia’s eyes. “Let’s just go,” she whispers, and while I know I should—I mean, come on!—I’m curious. And yes, yes, curiosity killed the cat, but I’m staying anyway.

I force myself to stand taller and look straight into Vance’s dark eyes as I rub the back of the ring like a worry stone. “All right,” I say, trying to focus. “Tell me why I’m here.”

“Your dreams aren’t nightmares, Cora. They’re not even dreams. But I think you already know that.”

I shake my head, trying to look like a completely confused nineteen-year-old. Which isn’t much of a challenge since that’s exactly what I am. “They come when I sleep, and they’re freaking terrifying. I think that’s pretty much how any dictionary would define a nightmare.”

“And yet yours are so much more. You know this, Cora. Don’t insult us all by pretending otherwise. Especially not when you have dozens—possibly hundreds—of questions that we can answer. All you have to do is ask.”

I don’t want to. Asking feels too much like giving in. But at the same time, why shouldn’t I give in? Sure, these folks seem a bit creepy and cultish, but that’s probably because I’ve seen one too many creepy movies.

The bottom line is that there’s danger in my dreams. A danger strong enough and real enough to kill my mother, and I still don’t have the slightest hint of a clue how to protect myself. So if these creepy Oneiroi folks can fill me in, then I’d be an idiot to run away now.

“All right,” I finally say. “Tell me what you know about my nightmares that aren’t really nightmares.”

Vance nods his head, his smile seeming smug in victory. Maybe he should be. After all, the man seems to know more about my nightmares than I do. Then again, he clearly needs me. I have something he wants. But I still don’t know what that is.

“As you’ve already realized,” Vance begins, “you’re not having nightmares. Not in the traditional sense. Like, say, your friend Tia might have.”

“Me?” Tia catches my eye, hers suddenly huge. “My dreams aren’t anything like Cora’s.”

“My point exactly,” Vance says. “What was the last nightmare you recall having?”

She looks at me again.

I shrug. “Just go with it.”

I can tell she’d rather bolt, but she reaches for my hand, as if reminding herself that we said we were in this together. “I—it’s stupid.”

“Fear is never stupid,” Vance says. “It serves a very real purpose.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the hand that came out of the boiling French fry grease at the shitty fast-food place, then tried to strangle me, wasn’t actually real.”

“Most likely not,” he says. “But you were legitimately frightened?”

“Hell, yeah. A monster in the boiling oil?”

“And you woke up.”

“Well, sure. I mean, I think I screamed, and then I was sitting up in bed.”

“Cora, does that track your experience?”

I hug myself, already way ahead of him. “Sometimes. But lately, not so much.”

“Your dreams feel different because they are different. They are dreams, yes. And at the same time, they are not.”

Tia and I exchange glances. Everything Vance is saying rings true. Which, of course, only makes me more scared. I want to run away like a toddler, find a corner, and press my hands over my ears. But I want answers more.

“Then what are they?” I ask, my voice so soft I’m almost surprised he can hear me.

“They’re a journey, not a dream.”