Chapter Twenty

What the fuck had Morrisey gotten himself into?

The room was spartan to say the least, with one double bed, a desk, a dresser, a closet, and another door leading to an equally sparse bathroom. No tub, just a shower. Morrisey expected bigger accommodations based on the size of Leary”s office. Light gray walls, dark gray carpet, geometric print comforter in shades of gray, with a single blot of navy blue for variety, like some eighty percent cotton Rorschach test.

Oh well, a few pairs of jeans and shoes on the floor ought to break the monotony.

Farren pulled a rolling suitcase into the glorified prison cell, giving an apologetic shrug. “You can return to your own home once you complete training or take a permanent one here. Trust me. Resident apartments are much better than here in the barracks.”

Barracks? At least the shoebox beat the barracks from Morrisey’s Army reserve days. “Where do you live, Farren?” Better yet, why did Morrisey care, especially if knowing only added to his fantasies? Images flashed through his mind from the dream.

Fuck! Thinking about Farren naked would have to wait for later.

Farren flinched, casting his gaze down. “I live here. It’s… better for all concerned.”

Morrisey had so many questions about who Farren really was before he came to inhabit the apparently ageless body of model Farren Austen. Now might not be the appropriate time to ask. More pressing matters took precedence. “How many live here in this underground dungeon?” Were the demon-possessed allowed out into the world?

“We currently house fifteen recruits in this wing, but none are travelers. Twenty permanent residents live on another floor. Some are guards, cafeteria workers, admins…”

“So many?”

“Only about six task force recruits will complete training.”

That didn’t sound ominous. Much. “Why?”

Farren shrugged. “Only a special type of person can do what we do successfully. Many don’t have the heart or the nerve for the work. Others make… mistakes.”

Icy fingers of dread ran up Morrisey’s spine. “What kind of mistakes?”

“Not taking the job seriously.”

The same held true with all police work. Morrisey wouldn’t ask what happened to the unsuccessful ones. A question for another time. He’d committed to this effort. The answers wouldn’t help him now.

Farren continued, “Very few humans here actually learn what we really are outside of our team. Your nearly being possessed is what put you to the head of the class. I’m afraid the nondisclosure agreement is in effect for any interaction with the newbies. Anyway, recruits get up at six. Breakfast is at seven. Many choose to fill the time working out at the gym.”

Morrisey snorted, waving a hand toward his body—a body that didn’t see exercise gear often. “Does it look like I go to a gym?”

After an up-and-down perusal, Farren looked away, face flaming. “The scenery is… acceptable.”

“How underwhelming.” What scenery? Morrisey’s body or the gym bunnies lifting weights before any decent human being rolled out of bed? Was that a come-on? A coming out? Then again, a man needn’t be gay to appreciate the muscles brought on by a good workout. Morrisey had attracted his share of audiences during his pumping iron days.

And occasionally did some looking himself.

Not since letting himself go, though. Once Craig walked out, vowing he’d never walk back in, why bother? Who gave a rat’s ass if a random hookup found Morrisey attractive enough to be seen in public with. He just needed to be attractive enough to fuck. A hard dick, a welcoming hole. What more did a guy need?

Dark bars gave a definite advantage, scaling everyone upward a few points on the attractiveness scale.

Morrisey’s resolve not to ask personal questions weakened. “Can I ask a question?”

“I’ll answer if I can.” Farren shrugged. “At this point in your training, there are things I can’t share.”

Duly noted. Do you dream of me? I dream of you. “How did you come to be here?”

“With the FBI?”

“That too. But how did you manage to reach this realm? I know what you and Leary said, but what’s the unofficial story?” What are your secrets?

Farren studied Morrisey for several moments. “You read the information we gave you, right?”

“Yes.” Sort of. Not much stuck with Morrisey, especially after a night of drinking. Possibly Farren’s way of ducking the question.

Farren dropped his tones into what Morrisey now noticed was his “teaching tone,” the words sounding well-rehearsed. “Like you, I worked on a case involving multiple victims away from home. I went to sleep one night…”

“And found yourself here.”

“And found myself here,” Farren agreed, waving a hand at his surroundings. “Or rather, I found myself on a street in LA. I stopped to help a young man gasping on the ground in a stinking alley.” Farren’s voice softened, and the vacant look on his face suggested he’d sank deep into memories. After a moment’s quiet, he added, “The man said one thing to me: ‘Please’, though he was technically dead. That was the first time I entered a dead or dying person for information. Not something we did back in my old realm. Then Farren gasped his last breath. I needed a body; he had unfinished business. We merged.”

“What did he want?”

“For me to tell his mother he loved her and to arrange for his worldly possessions to go to her. He left behind enough savings to keep her comfortable in her old age.”

“That sucks.” Lame, but what else could Morrisey say?

“I agree. Nutri… I mean, paramedics revived the body. Although my host’s spirit was gone. I remained. Even with the paramedic helping, I barely survived. Fentanyl-laced heroin.”

“And you caught the dealer.”

“Yes. But since people in LA knew Farren, I needed a different home. I met Leary there, unaware the FBI already had a task force in California. Shortly after my arrival, I started seeing killings caused by those from my realm. Leary was a detective looking into the crimes but not knowing what he was dealing with. I watched him and his team. When the traveler nearly killed Leary, I stepped in. After a great deal of fast talking, he finally believed me. The FBI top brass already knew about travelers, though few from Domus worked for them yet. Soon they discovered dozens of travelers in Atlanta and sent us here.”

So many questions. What was the other realm like? Who had Farren left behind? How much of that world mimicked this one? A memory appeared: Farren drifting among the stars, looking for his family. A memory? Or a dream? “You tried to go home?”

Farren slowly shook his head back and forth. “Sadly, it’s a one-way trip for me. I don”t have the power to travel between realms. I believe I was... summoned. Besides, within the next hundred or so human years, Domus will completely fold in on itself. There’ll be no home to go back to.”

Fuck. Harsh. “I’m sorry.” A whole fucking realm collapsing? Damn.

Farren averted his gaze, whispering, “So am I.”

“Did you have anyone left behind? Father, mother, wife…”

Again, Farren shook his head. “No. I had a lover, but we fought.”

What couple didn’t fight? Morrisey and Craig had some doozies. “Over what?”

“Me spending too much time away from home for my job. I accepted a lengthy assignment elsewhere after the last fight. I thought time apart might do us some good.”

Morrisey settled onto the bed, the firm mattress hardly denting under his weight. “You never got back together?”

Farren shut his eyes, pulling in and exhaling a deep, shuddering breath. “No. Remember the analogy, how one day an area approximately the same size as Rhode Island disappeared?”

“Yeah.”

“It happened two days after I left. I lost my whole family. What you call mother, father, sister, and brother-in-law. Plus, my sister’s spawn. I mean, children. Three of them.”

“And your lover.”

“And my lover. I still wonder what happened. Were they in pain at the end? Did they cry out for me? I should have been with them.”

“Then you’d be gone too.” Which bothered Morrisey for some odd reason. Finding someone else alone resonated. Misery loved company.

“If I’d properly joined with my lover like they wanted, I wouldn’t have survived their death.”

What the fuck could Morrisey possibly say? “Didn’t Leary say no one knows what happened to those who disappeared? What if they’re still alive somewhere?”

“They’re not.” Farren spoke with surety.

“How can you be sure?”

Farren met Morrisey’s gaze, a world of hurt shining in shimmering eyes. “Because I can’t find them in my dreams.”

I can’t find them in my dreams.

The words still resonated long after Farren departed. He’d looked for family in his dreams. And found Morrisey, if their dreams really were connected. Morrisey had never dreamed so vividly before.

What did it all mean?

Morrisey hadn’t been in his room alone for even a half-hour before a knock sounded at the door. So much for settling in. He opened the door to find the receptionist—what was her name? Arianna?—her arms laden with cloth.

And her weird-as-hell goat’s eyes if he looked too closely.

“Hi!” Arianna entered the room like a whirling force of nature. “Can I come in?” She’d already whisked inside before asking.

Morrisey shifted his gaze back and forth between the open door and the tiny creature. “Can I stop you?”

Arianna’s smile never faltered. “Of course not.” She breezed across the room in three strides and placed her burden on the bed. “If you’re like me, you were sick of institutional gray within five minutes of walking into this place.” She exaggerated a shudder. “Lucky for you, I’m here.”

“Lucky how?” A headache settled in behind Morrisey’s eyes.

“You’ll see.” A calming scent hit Morrisey’s nose the moment Arianna opened her bundle. She pulled out two bars of soap and a candle. “Sandalwood. Conveys a feeling of connectedness. Or so the label says. So much better than the soap stocked in the bathroom and less likely to remove your skin. The candle chases back the staleness.” She wrinkled her nose in a cute way that probably had most men stumbling over their feet to do her bidding. “This room hasn’t been used in a while.”

She bustled about the place, spreading a crocheted blanket on the bed in shades of blue—Morrisey’s favorite color—artfully arranged two books on the nightstand and added a colorful coffee mug by the single cup coffeemaker on the counter. Next, she placed a plastic container nearby. “I hope you like oatmeal cookies. I was all out of chocolate chips.”

The whole redecorating took less than five minutes. The place did appear homier. “When you’re ready, you can tell me all about yourself, but I promised Farren I’d give you time to adjust before, how did he put it?” Arianna tapped the tip of her index finger against her chin. “Oh, right. Before I overwhelm you with my unwanted presence. Now, I’m a gamer, have tons of games, and hope you’ll come hang out sometime. Do you like Halo? Farren sucks at Halo. Don’t tell him I said so. I’d rather have poor competition than none at all. Okay. I gotta go.” She opened the door, then turned back. “Oh, yeah. Welcome to the team!”

She swept out the door, a tiny, rambling dynamo, somehow leaving Morrisey exhausted.

Thatwas a demon? Since when did demons bring cookies and not ask for your soul?

No. Not demon. Traveler.

And talker. If they were all like Farren and Arianna, though, Morrisey wouldn”t be here to discover why demons killed.

Had nearly killed him.

Even knowing he was alone, Morrisey glanced behind him, in the closet and under the bed before pulling out the gizmos he’d bought from his barber’s friend’s cousin or some shit, sweeping the room for bugs and cameras. Either FAET got their hands on some truly sophisticated devices standard detectors couldn’t find, or they hadn’t bothered with surveillance in this room.

All they’d see was a man slowly drinking himself into an early grave and a healthy dose of hand-on-gland action.

Morrisey noticed a long, typed list of rules taped to the door. No smoking. No liquor. No drugs.

Damn it!What was Morrisey expected to do with his time? He could only spend so much time jacking off.

He slipped the devices back into the false lining of his suitcase and, in bored desperation, checked the books Arianna had left on the nightstand. What did M/M stand for?

What did she mean by leaving a box of tissues and a sticky note that said, “Enjoy!”

One thing to be said about travelers: they were weird as all fuck.