Dream Stalker: Talented: Book 1 Page 4

  I hadn't seen her since Carmel's death. I'd been selfish, unwilling to put myself through the grief, not thinking of how she would feel losing an even closer friend. What I hadn't realised at the time was her feeling of guilt. Gods, I'd really screwed this up.

  I cleared a spot off the sofa and sat next to Melanie. I took out the knife, her eyes following my movements. I set it on my lap and the blood drained from her face.

  "Where did you get that?" Her voice was strained and she gripped her skirt tightly.

  "It... well, it just kind of appeared in my house. In my hand, actually. I tried to kill myself with it in my sleep. Melanie whatever happened that night isn't your fault. It wasn't. Someone is out to get the half-bloods and you couldn't have done anything to stop them."

  Tears dripped down her face but she sat still, rigid. "There was no one else home, Emma. I woke up and I knew, I knew something had happened. The knife was mine - I think it was, it was in my bed when I woke up one morning. When I found her I knew, I knew it was me. I did it. I killed-" her voice choked off the last words.

  I leaned forwards. "It's a dream stalker, Mel. He's a Talent, a powerful one. He controls people while they sleep - I couldn't fight him, and I have talent. It's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped him."

  Melanie sobbed quietly. I put my arm around her and told her what I knew, paring it down to the basic details. She'd spent the last weeks thinking it was all her fault. She hadn't known about the other deaths, and I think it helped when I told her. Asking her about the knife seemed to confuse her as though she had no memory of the event. I showed it to her again and she blanched away. When I questioned her while it was out, she couldn't tell me much - just that it was evil, and somehow involved in Carmel's murder. Curious. Then, something else hit me.

  "Mel, Carmel said you'd been sleepwalking?"

  "Mm. She mentioned to me, asked if I'd take one of your teas." Melanie still had a distracted look.

  "Mel don't take this the wrong way but..." I paused, hoping she'd fill in the gap. She didn't. "Melanie, you can't walk."

  "What? Oh. Right. I guess I wasn't really walking; I was in my chair."

  "So you got out of bed, into your chair and went in to Carmel's room, all in your sleep?"

  "It sounds a bit weird, I guess. I'm sure it can happen though, right?"

  Melanie had taken the sleeping tea every night until Carmel's death - apparently, it hadn't worked. I knew my standard herbal sleeping tea wasn't designed to ward off psychic attacks. Gibble's formula would have been a lot better, had I known what was going on, but I didn't mention that to Melanie.

  I consoled her for some time, begging her to come back with me to spend the night somewhere safe - and clean. She'd completely broken down since Carmel's death, drowning in grief and self-recrimination. I hated that. Could I have helped, if I'd come by sooner? I gave myself another mental kick for not doing so.

  Melanie eventually settled enough for me to leave. She refused to spend the night anywhere near the knife, and I had nowhere safe to leave it other than my house. I hoped it was safe there anyway. When I left, I promised to return in the next couple of days to check on her and pass on any information I could about the killer. Mentally, I added, 'as long as it was safe'. Melanie had suffered enough - one of the few mortals who'd embraced the half-blood community and she was put through this. I was sad, and angry on her behalf. I hugged her farewell at the door, making a mental note to rustle up some help to send over for a day. A couple of piskes or brownies would have the place righted in mere hours.

  By the time the cottage door closed behind me, leaving me alone on the empty street, it was well past midnight. Shaking off my weariness I rubbed Lenny's head and we set off for home.

  Chapter Four

  There were only a few blocks to go. Glad I had Lenny with me, I walked briskly, trying quell my nervousness. This was London, and the City wall was within a stone's throw from my path for most of the journey. Still, as I walked it was hard not to worry. Feeling overly conscious of the knife in my pocket, I wondered if its owner had a way to track it. Lenny picked up on my anxiety, whining and burring up at every tiny noise.

  Lenny stopped and growled, raising his hackles. He sniffed the air once, then continued on. Well that was reassuring. I hurried along with him, slipping my hand in my pocket to grip the knife, wand clutched in the hand leading Lenny. We turned left, then right. Right again, pulling Lenny with me. Wait... I didn't recognise this street. Confused, I stopped and looked around. This area was one I walked often, there was no way I could be lost... was there? It must be a trick of the light.

  Looking around for a building or house I recognised, I saw the street was filled with cookie-cutter houses, none of them standing out in the washed out moonlight. Tiny, quick puffs of steam clouded around my mouth as I breathed. I raised my wand, calling for light... nothing happened. What? I was scared, that's all. I took a deeper breath, and concentrated, visualising the word to make light. Still nothing - I could feel the slight drain of magic but it didn't manifest. Even a heavy dose of nerves should have at least caused a flicker or a pop. It was only light.

  I walked back to where I thought I'd entered the street but the houses continued on unbroken. My head whipped around, searching for a side street I may have entered on. Tall, dark houses loomed around me. I spotted an alleyway up ahead - maybe I'd gotten turned around in my panic. I forced myself not to run, but I was trotting by the time I got there. Blackness surrounded me as I turned the corner, buildings on either side of me blocking out the moonlight. I faced a dead end. As I shook my head in disbelief, I heard a rustling behind me. I slowly turned, heart racing.

  There, at the end of the alleyway, was a giant, slavering dark hound. Its glowing blue eyes spat fire at me, and big, sharp teeth bared to let forth a menacing growl. Slowly, I backed up against the building behind me. I looked down for Lenny - he wasn't there. Where had he gone? And where the hell had this monster come from?

  I raised my wand again, trying to conjure up light. Dark hounds had poor day vision so maybe a bright flash... no. I tried again, this time a push of wind. Still nothing. My mind stumbled, trying to make sense of the situation. Heart racing, I itched to run but the beast blocked my only way out. I held my useless wand out with one hand, then thrust forth the other, holding the knife. The hound took a few steps toward me.

  "Back," my voice choked with fear. I coughed, and tried again. "Back!" It didn't work. Half-baked plans raced through my mind- run? No way out. Hide? No chance. Magic? Wasn't working. Lost, alone and terrified, I tightened my grip on the knife, pulling it a little closer to my body. If the beast jumped at me, I'd have to stab it. My stomach roiled at the thought. I looked to the walls on either side again, hoping for a window, or a light. There was no sign of life. My addled brain knew that was wrong. Even at this hour, people would be awake, especially in this district. My mind turned to how I'd become lost. The dark street, the missing turns... Oh shit.

  The dream stalker had me. I was out, away from my wards, and tired beyond belief after my emotional discussion with Melanie. What was reality? I tried to focus on what should be. I should be in London, in a familiar street. There should be lights on. Lenny... Lenny should be with me! I called him, voice wavering. He didn't appear. How did I fight a dream? Would it even hurt me? Ok, I knew the answer to that one- if I was injured by one of the dream stalkers creations, it would come through in my waking life... assuming I lived to wake.

  I turned the knife over in my hand again, still ready to thrust it at anything that approached. If I had to, I'd fight to the death. Wait, no. Gibble had told me not to fight. He had specifically said not to fight the dream, to resist but not fight. I still didn't understand what that meant but I knew I had to stay alive no matter what. Those damned Otherworld creatures really had to be less cryptic.

  I coughed again to clear my throat. "I know that I'm dreaming, asshole," I called to the darkness. "I know what you are. Hell, my dog's probably
ripping you to shreds about now." One could hope. The dog in front of me growled, and started advancing towards me. It took every ounce of self-control not to move. I faced it. "You're a dream." I told it. "You won't hurt me." As it picked up pace, I faltered. As it came on me, my nerves gave out. Thrusting out my wand uselessly, I couldn't even form a spell tracing in my mind. The creature tensed, ready to jump and I dropped to the ground. I curled into a ball, covering my face, forcing every bit of power I had out around me by pure instinct. "You're a dream!" I screamed as it gently snuffled at my armpit... as it... what?

  I looked up to find Lenny nuzzling me softly. It was Lenny. Throwing my arms around him I sobbed with relief. A brief look around told me I was in a small street not far from where I'd lost track of my whereabouts. Two dazzling balls of light hung in the air - both mine, assumedly from my earlier tracings. Scooping up the knife, I skittered back against a wall so I could regain my sense of direction. I sat there for some time, trying to work up the courage to leave. Finally, I was tired enough to admit defeat. I wanted my safe little house, my warm bed and my super-strength wards around me. Forcing myself to my feet I grabbed Lenny's leash and set off home.

  * * *

  I was almost surprised when I woke in the morning, alive and well. Eyes gritty from lack of sleep, I dressed slowly and went downstairs. I tidied up the shop and made coffee - double strength, to make up for the lack of sleep. Waking early was an ingrained habit, but I rarely stayed up late. I unlocked the door, Lenny taking his spot near the front as the first trickle of customers showed up. Pax came in and I made a point to take him aside and let him know what had happened. He promised again to pass on any information he came across, and said he'd tell my story to Tox as well. He offered to ask around for a goblin - they often hired out as security guards. Making up an excuse, I declined. Goblins were one of the few Otherworlders that made me really uncomfortable. It was part of their charm. Other than that, the morning was fairly routine - lots of sales and a few orders picked up for the weekend.

  Harrod and Martin came in just as I was closing. I bade them sit and put some water on to boil. Today, Harrod asked for his own - English breakfast, no surprises. Martin wanted a physical stamina blend, I had to rummage around for that one.

  "Are you sleeping Emma? You look awful."

  "Wow Martin, no wonder you're such a hit with the ladies. And no, I hardly slept at all last night..." I told them both what had happened, and passed on what I'd learnt from Melanie. I hadn't gained much that we didn't already know, except a little insight into how the attacks worked. Even that didn't help much - when you couldn't tell the difference between reality and a dream, how could you know what you're fighting?

  I asked the men what their plan was. Harrod intended to go talk to some of his old contacts to see if he could dig up any rumours of old magic being dredged up. We still didn't know what exactly the knife did, all we had were theories. Martin wanted to revisit the crime scenes but they'd been shut down by the police - who, though doing a very good job of keeping the public uninvolved, didn't seem to be doing much else. They were toying with the idea of visiting a local seer to see if they could shed some light on the situation, but apart from that were at a dead end.

  I asked how much information the general half-blood public had. They weren't sure, but it had seemed most of the information being passed around had originated with me, that was why Harrod and Martin initially contacted me. It surprised me to realise what a key part I had in the community. I'd known that I had a lot of contact with the half-blood community due to the popularity of my teas... I'd just assumed everyone else did too. I agreed to take a more proactive stance about spreading the word. We agreed that everyone at least needed to know which wards to use, and I'd already started making a stockpile of Gibble's tea for anyone who thought they might need it. Harrod said he'd send a couple of brownies my way to help make up more tea, and to scribe the information I needed passed on. Though I could print out the human version, the Otherworld creatures would only read it if it was handwritten, and I wanted them - well, the friendly portion - aware of what was happening too.

  Martin stood and headed for the door, but I held Harrod back a moment. "The brownies - do you mind if I send one over to Melanie's for an hour or so? It'd be a big help"

  "No, no of course not. Look after your friend, you can have them as long as you need."

  Martin pushed open the door, just in time for Gibble to pass through, harrumph at the two of them and start cleaning up the counters.

  Harrod gaped. "What is tha- No... No that's... That's a boggart!"

  Martin stood there, looking smug.

  "It's not... I mean, it's not possible..." Harrod's eyes darted between me and Gibble.

  "He's perfectly harmless," I said. "He helps me out around the shop. He's very well trained."

  "He... helps you in the... Oh dammit." Harrod looked downright discombobulated.

  By this time, Martin was grinning ferociously. "You didn't believe me," he said. "Was I right? Oh don't be silly, of course I was right."

  Harrod glowered at him. "Like a bloody four-year-old, you are. Next you'll be dancing around singing 'I told you so'. Go on, get it out."

  "Your discomfort is perfectly adequate, thank you." He turned to me. "Your friend has become somewhat of a legend in the Talented community. Not that everyone believes it. Of course, I'd never repeat an unsubstantiated rumour, would I Harrod?" Harrod handed him a bank note. "Hurry up," he said testily. "We have places to be."

  "Wait." I said. They both paused and I asked Gibble what he'd found last night.

  "Hhhhaaaa. I'ssss findss many badsss Laydeee." I put my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrows. Gibble's eyes turned toward the men. Martin had a hand over his mouth, trying to hold back a chuckle. Gibble hissed at them. He looked back at me and I didn't move.

  "Gibble. This is important. Please?"

  Gibble glowered at the men. I glared at him.

  "Lady... trusssst?"

  "Gibble..." There was no mistaking the warning in my voice this time. It usually worked, despite that fact that I had absolutely nothing to threaten him with. Gibble finally heaved a sigh and dropped the act.

  "I did find a thing, Lady. There be a cursed one, a Talent feared by many of the Others. One did say to me he be finding an artefact, and that it be a danger to the this-world if he be using it. I did not be told what the found thing was, or where it be found."

  "Anything else?"

  "Lady, they be scared of the one. They not be liking to tell me the things they did tell. Lady must be watching. Always watching, Lady must be staying safe." He looked over his shoulder at the two men standing behind him. Both looked dumbstruck. He hissed again, then loped upstairs, no doubt to read a book until they'd gone.

  Gibble's tale had more than shaken me. I knew little of the Otherworld denizens that didn't venture into our world, but they certainly had more power than most. If they were scared...

  "So," I said to the men, both still standing and staring at me. "Any idea what this artefact is?"

  "You have a boggart. He works in your shop, and you send him running errands. To the Others. Anything else you'd like to mention? Got a dragon in your bedroom? What about a legion of dwarvish soldiers that go buy your paper every morning?""

  "Oh, it's not as good as it sounds. He's been in the family for, oh, a hundred years? He started off as a run of the mill trickster, though not a particularly nasty one. I mean, he only stole a few kids, and they were all found by sundown. Until great uncle Morton. Took them 3 days to realise he'd been left on the roof. Story goes, Uncle Mort just spent the whole time hanging up there with Gibble, reading to him. Mort's mother gave Gibble hell when he was found, and after that he just sort of started being nice. As long as we give him plenty of books to read, he stays out of trouble. He's not very reliable and to be honest, he scares away a few of my customers. And if you think I could afford the upkeep on a dragon, you haven't seen my bank account."
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br />   Harrod shook his head. It really wasn't a big deal; I'd known Gibble all my life. As long as I kept him well-supplied with books, he didn't bother me and as I got older, would trade them for favours. It was a business relationship - as long as you were used to doing business with Fae creatures that were bound to your family for a century and who spent the hours after dark chilling with beings from the Beyond.

  Martin's phone beeped. He looked at it, then spoke to Harrod.

  "We have to go." I looked at him, worried. "We'll let you know more as soon as we can." The two men strode out, leaving me alone with my fears. There was a tap at the door and I looked up to see a regular customer waiting out the front, trying to see if I was still open. I sighed and went to let him in, but when I reached for the door I realised I still held the knife. I must have been absentmindedly playing with it. Disturbed, I slipped it into my pocket, meaning to put it somewhere safe as soon as I was done.

  * * *

  I spent the next day in organisational overdrive. The brownies arrived as promised the next morning. I set Tyn to work blending tea while Gibble unpacked boxes of fresh stock and stored it away safely. I took the other brownie, Pymb, to see Melanie. When I got there, I was surprised to see she'd already gotten to work, clearing most of the mess that the police had left in the tiny house. Still, she sagged with relief when I told her why I was there. Though she protested, I insisted I didn't need the brownie's assistance for the day and set him to work scrubbing the place from top to bottom. I versed Melanie in the rules - not to thank it, but to leave out a bowl of milk and bread in case it got hungry. Though I considered it briefly, I didn't mention the previous evening's misadventure.