Chapter 15

I swipe with my sword,cutting off one of the scalpel-wielding legs. The clown's eyes shoot fire at me. I tilt to the side, dodging the projectile.

I've got to hand it to the cameras and the primitive headset: My real-world motions are copied pretty well in VR.

Just to see how well the physics work, I hurl my sword at the creature's head. It flies in a very realistic arc and slices at the mask. The mask falls, revealing a clown face that seems vaguely familiar underneath all that white makeup.

Did they model it on a celebrity?

The creature yelps in anger, and a little cloud appears above me. Above it, a text box proclaims, "DREAM POWER."

I activate the cloud, and a new sword grows inside my hand, but it's too late.

The monster's head rushes toward me, and its fangs rip into my chest.

The world around me grows red, but for one line of black text hovering gravely in the air.

GAME OVER.

"So cool." I take the headset off and hand it to Felix. "You've got to check it out."

Rattie beams at me. "I'm so glad you like it."

Felix puts on the headset. A minute later, he shouts obscenities and jerks it off his head. "I hope you don't let little kids play that," he says, his breathing uneven. "Or people with arachnophobia, coulrophobia, and whatever the phobia of medical staff is called."

Rattie nods. "The industry consensus is that little kids shouldn't play VR at all. As to adults with phobias, they can always stop playing when they see something they dislike."

As he speaks, I realize why the monster's face looked familiar.

It shares features with Rattie himself.

Then another thing dawns on me: The villain mentioned in that backstory was called the Rat King.

I catch Rattie's gaze. "Did your team use your likeness in the game?"

Everyone on his team chuckles, and he smiles shyly. "My team likes to put Easter eggs like that into all our games. That way, people on the street might think me a dreamwalker and see my face in their nightmares for years to come."

"If you're sick of your face being in all these games, you can use mine," Felix says hopefully.

I grin. "I don't think we want to scare the user base that much."

Felix groans. "Second time I walk into something today." He looks at Rattie. "Tell me about the security issue you need solved."

Rattie explains it to Felix and looks excited when it becomes clear that Felix understands what he's talking about.

I yawn. Cryptography and sleep debt don't mix well.

After what feels like days of mind-numbing tech talk, Rattie pulls out a laptop with proper access, and Felix begins typing away on it.

I suppress another yawn. "What can I do to help?"

Rattie glances at his team. "You can't do much for the demo at this point, but we could use your help with level design beyond that. Valerian said you'd be good at it."

I'm sure Valerian's praise predated the kiss fiasco. I doubt he'd say nice things about me now.

Banishing anything kiss-related from my mind, I describe some good dream-world-like levels for the team, relying in part on my game design background and much more on the actual dreamwalking experience. Rattie particularly likes it when I describe the ceiling in my dream palace—a mosaic depicting an archery target-like mandala made out of multicolored glass.

Just as I'm about to yawn out loud again, Rattie says, "That's more than enough to get us started."

"Good." I rub my eyes. "If you guys don't need me for the next few hours, I'd like to use a sleeping pod."

Rattie smiles wryly. "Of course. The one you last used can be officially yours."

I walk over to Felix to make sure he's okay with my slacking off, and he gestures his dismissal without looking up from the screen.

"Take the nappy nap. I should finish with this in a few hours."

Sweet.

I drag my sleep-heavy feet to the pod and pass out.

* * *

I wakeup refreshed and with no clue how much time has passed.

Heading to the bathroom, I see that the floor is empty. When I come out, I hurry over to the front desk. The receptionist is gone too. Must not be regular business hours anymore.

Rattie meets me by the elevators. "Ah, good, you woke up. Felix left some time ago, said to reach out to your friend Itzel when you need him."

"Right." I smile. "Did Felix finish what he started?"

"He did," Rattie says admiringly. "Thanks to him, the demo is going to the testers in mere hours. The rest of the team are now taking a well-deserved break and will resume the development after."

"That's great." I press the button to summon the elevator. "You should rest too."

He sighs. "I will. First, I need to get confirmation that the demo is in the hands of the testers."

"Good luck," I say, entering the elevator. "See you later."

As I ride down, I allow myself to get excited. Even if Valerian plans to pull out of our arrangement, it sounds like the demo is still happening—unless he shows up last minute and cancels that, which I doubt. And since Valerian said I should get a power boost just from the testers, it's possible that'll be enough to save Mom.

* * *

The rideto JFK and the trip from there to Gomorrah are uneventful. I take a car to my apartment, hygieia myself from head to foot, change into clean clothes, and eat.

Refreshed and revived, I check my messages.

Nothing from Valerian.

I look at the clock. He's had the rest of the previous night and almost a whole day after that to look for the werewolf. I bet he's located his quarry and has dealt with him without me.

It's time to accept the unpleasant reality.

Valerian is not talking to me anymore.

Just in case I'm wrong, I set my inbox to give an alert if he does message me. Then, trying not to give in to the strange malaise gripping me at the thought of never seeing him again, I scroll through the recent messages until I find one from Itzel.

She says we're all to gather at Nebulabucks at nine p.m.

I look at the dusk outside and check the clock.

If I hurry, I'll make the meeting.

* * *

Walkinginto Nebulabucks is like déjà vu. Felix, Ariel, Itzel, and Kit are sitting at the same table, hot drinks in everyone's hands.

Just like the last time, Felix hands me my favorite nebula flower tea.

"Thank you for your help today," I tell him, enjoying the fruity notes as I take a sip. "The demo is going to be out any moment."

He swells with pride. "It was my pleasure. In fact, Rattie already let me work on the physics in one of the—"

"I think we should let Kit give an update," Itzel interrupts. "So far, all I know is that she's failed."

"It's not my fault." Kit turns into the vampire she left to question. "I don't think he knew anything. You can't fail to extract information that isn't there."

Ariel raises a perfect eyebrow. "Are you sure your wiles are as irresistible as you think?"

"And your torture methods," Felix adds, turning noticeably pale.

Kit turns back into herself. "I was exceedingly persuasive."

"How about I question him?" Itzel says, her hand tightening on her cup. "I'm more motivated than you are."

"There's a slight problem with that." Kit avoids everyone's gazes. "I might've… kind of killed him."

I narrow my eyes. "You what?"

She examines her fingernail. "He wouldn't tell me what I needed to know, so I might've escalated the questioning a bit. He must've been freshly turned—most vampires I usually deal with are made of sturdier stuff."

I shake my head and focus on my tea.

Itzel's shoulders droop. "What now?"

I scratch my chin. "Maybe Felix could hack the stores that sell those puck masks?"

Felix frowns. "Gomorran security is—"

An alarm blares in my comms.

"One sec," I tell everyone and activate the VR dashboard.

There's a message from Valerian in my inbox:

Come to my house as soon as you can.

Releasing a breath that I didn't realize I was holding, I grin like a loon.

"Valerian?" Ariel asks with a knowing smile.

"The one and only." I look at Itzel apologetically. "I have to run. He and I have a deal where—"

"It's fine." Itzel waves her small hand. "We'll give your hacking idea a go, with Felix or someone else at the helm."

"Right." I leap to my feet. "Keep me posted."

* * *

As I rideto Valerian's place, variations of one thought loop in my mind, over and over.

He isn't ignoring me.

The question is whether he's dealing with me as a necessary evil to get the information he wants, or he's actually okay with that travesty of a kiss.

I ponder this the whole way to his penthouse, but when he actually opens the door, my mind goes completely blank.

It must be the "absence makes the heart grow fonder" effect in action because he looks more mouthwateringly hot than I remember—and I have memories I can masturbate to for a year.

"Please come in." He gestures in the direction of the pond.

I walk in on unsteady legs and plop into the lotus pose by the pond.

He crouches next to me, eyes level with mine. "First, I want to talk about the other day."

I swallow so loudly they probably hear it on the floor below us. Is he about to tell me he wants to pretend it never happened? Or—

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I misread the situation. I thought you—"

"You didn't," I blurt.

"I didn't?" He tilts his head, perplexed. "I thought you wanted to kiss me, but when I tried, you didn't like it."

My face burns. "I did want you to kiss me. I still kind of do. And I didn't dislike—"

"You pulled away." His jaw flexes.

I bite my lip. "Wanting and liking wasn't enough, it seems. I guess I wasn't quite ready yet. I… have some issues when it comes to intimacy."

His face darkens, and his power makes the room around us thunderous and gloomy, like a storm is about to hit. "Did someone do something to you?" he asks with soft menace.

"No, no, it's not that." Recalling the blank spots when it comes to my childhood, I add, "At least not that I know of. I pulled away for a completely different reason."

The room goes back to normal as his expression changes to one of curiosity. "Oh?"

"If I tell you, you'll think I'm weird."

A hint of a smile touches the corners of his eyes. "That implies I don't already think you're weird."

"Forget it." I start to untangle my legs from the lotus pose.

"I never said weird was bad." The smile moves down to his lips. "Please, tell me."

My shoulders hunch. "I've… never done that before."

His eyes widen, the smile disappearing. "You've never kissed anyone?"

"Nor done anything else," I say, Pom turning beet red on my wrist. "Even if it weren't for my other issue, kissing—or doing anything for the first time—is kind of a big deal."

He rubs the dimple on his chin. "Other issue?"

I take in a deep breath. "I don't like germs."

"Germs?"

"Bacteria, viruses, yeasts. Just name a microscopic creature, and I'm going to be afraid to catch it."

"And you think I—"

"I'm not saying your germs are worse than those of any other person," I say quickly. "Or that my fears are one-hundred-percent rational. Though if you read about the microbiome, it is permanently altered with—"

He lifts his hand, stopping me mid-word. "You have the right to feel any way you choose. You also have the right to do or not do things with me." His face darkens again. "Or anyone else."

"If I were to do things with someone, it would be you." This time, Pom turns pink, and I hide the treacherous fur in case Valerian somehow guesses what it means.

He gives me a look of pure male satisfaction. "What if the risk of germs didn't exist at all?" As he speaks, the living room around us turns into a bedroom I've seen via his illusions before, one with a giant bed covered by silk sheets and rose petals.

A second Valerian is sitting on the edge of the bed—this one only wearing a fig leaf over his groin.

I blink rapidly as I take in the illusory Valerian.

Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the sound of my ovaries screaming in joy.

"Come to me," Illusion Valerian orders gruffly and stands up, giving me a better look at his rippling muscles.

I leap to my feet as he closes the distance between us.

"No germs," the real Valerian murmurs.

I reach out and touch the naked Illusion Valerian. His chest feels real—and good enough to lick. My gaze shifts between him and the real Valerian. What's the proper etiquette for this sort of situation?

"Before we do anything," I say hesitantly, "you should know I'm not a typical virgin."

Both Valerians arch their eyebrows.

"I've done things in the dream world. I've even kissed you—well, a version of you—there before. So I have some idea of what to expect."

"No, you don't." Illusion Valerian frames my face with his big hands and kisses me.

Holy hormones. He's right. This is infinitely better than when I kissed "him" in my dream—and this isn't even real either.

His tongue tentatively explores my mouth, sending waves of heat throughout my body as his hands stroke down my back. I feel like time stops, like there's nothing outside the physical sensations, and knowing that this is an illusion allows me to enjoy the pleasure without fear—and get the closest to orgasm I've ever been around another person.

Panting, I slide my hands down his muscled back to grab the firm globes of his ass, but before I can reach my destination, Illusion Valerian disappears.

"Hey!" I look at the still-crouching real version of him. "What gives?"

"I didn't want to overwhelm you." He pats the place where I was sitting before.

Well, puck.

Getting back on the ground, I take a few calming breaths as I stare at real Valerian's lips. Would they feel the same as the illusion's?

"Was that exposure therapy?" I ask, still breathless.

He frowns. "You mean my lack of clothes?"

"I mean you let me kiss you in a safe space in the hopes of making it easier for me to do it in the real world. I do something like that with my clients—when they have fears, that is."

He smiles. "And how effective is it?"

I dampen my lips. "Very."

"Good." His gaze falls to my mouth. "My illusions are one-way only, so I'm dying to taste you again."

I gulp. On my wrist, Pom's fur turns a shade of pink corals would be jealous of.

Am I ready to try it in the real world again?

I feel like I am. I really want to. But then again, I also wanted it last time—until the very last moment.

"How about now?" I say before I can talk myself out of it. "We could—"

"No." His smile holds a note of mischief. "This time, I'm going to wait until you're good and ready."

Does he mean "ready to beg for it?" Because I'm nearly there.

"Besides." His face turns serious. "We do have important Senate business to discuss."

"Oh, right." The mention of the dangerous Senate case works like the cold shower I sorely needed.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news on that front." He uses his power to make the werewolf he was seeking appear in the room with us. "None of my sources have any idea where to find him. You said you had a guy, so I was hoping you could ask him."

"Puck." I rub my eyebrow. "I just used him on behalf of Itzel, and I can't ask him for another favor until I've given him the dream—"

"Please." Valerian's ocean-blue eyes are so intense I feel like I might drown in them. "It's important."

How can I say no to that? Especially after that kiss?

I enable VR to check the time. Napoleon could be sleeping. At least he was at this time of night when I did this for him before.

"Give me a few minutes." Turning away, I touch Pom's fur and jump into the dream world.

* * *

Again,I catch Pom playing sports. This time, he's bowling by himself.

"Bailey!" He turns purple from furry head to fluffy toes. "How are you?"

"About to do something you'll find interesting," I say, though for the life of me, I can't understand why. "I'm going into Napoleon's dreams so he can do his thing."

Pom takes flight and swirls around me excitedly. "We haven't done that in forever."

Because it's weird and creepy, and again, I have no idea why Pom actually likes it.

"Well, I'm doing it now," I say. "Ready?"

He nods, so I teleport us both to the tower of sleepers and look for Napoleon.

Yep. He's there, sleeping like a devil's baby.

Pom lands on my shoulder as I take the guise of a pirate and, without bothering to make myself invisible, enter Napoleon's dreams.

* * *

As it often happens inhis dreams, Napoleon is in his human guise—that of a short man with nice white teeth, a slightly curved nose, deep-set gray-blue eyes, and an air of power that's difficult to explain.

Also, as is usual, on his head is a bicorne, while his torso is dressed in a white jacket with a blue overcoat. Underneath the jacket is a red sash.

I look around.

We're on a beach on an island he called Elba the last time I was in his dreams. He must've spent a lot of time on a real island like this because I can tell this stroll on the beach is a memory.

"Hey," I call out when it becomes clear he's not noticing our presence.

Napoleon's head whips around, and he stares at me and Pom uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Then his eyes light up, and he grins predatorily. "This is a dream?" He looks around, the grin widening.

"It is." I make a pink unicorn appear next him, then exchange it for a five-headed cobra. "I need your help, so I figured I'd visit your dreams."

Napoleon's eyes light up with avarice. "Six battles. And obviously, money in the awake world."

"Three." I ignore Pom's excited grip on my shoulder—he wants all six. "And a reasonable sum in the waking world."

"Four." Napoleon crosses his arms over his chest.

"Fine." I make the island around us phase out and get ready to replace it with a terrain of his choosing. "Which ones?"

"Hastings, Bosworth, Gettysburg, and Somme," he rattles out excitedly.

I sigh. "You know my Earth military history is close to zero. We've done Hastings once before, but the others don't sound familiar. Except maybe Gettysburg—something to do with a famous address?"

Napoleon shakes his head disapprovingly. "How can you spend so much time on that world and not know these things?"

I shrug. "War is one of the worst things humans do to each other. Why should I learn about it?"

He turns back into his red devil form. "So ignorance is bliss? That's your excuse?"

"I don't need an excuse." I make our surroundings a serene hill where, according to Napoleon, the battle of Hastings took place. "You like battles, and I don't."

"I don't like battles. I win them."

"Sometimes I think you do this just to torment me," I mutter under my breath.

He grins. "I don't, but it's a nice bonus."

Straining my powers, I make thousands of soldiers appear. The uniforms and positions were all provided by Napoleon with nauseating attention to minute details.

Immediately, I feel tired. Aside from blood, gore, and losing faith in humanity, I don't like these war reenactments because they severely drain my power—too many little details to manifest at once.

Making us float above the soon-to-be battlefield, I add a few more details here and there and inform Napoleon that I'm finished.

He frowns. "This time, I want the cavalry to start off there." He points at a spot at the base of the hill.

I sigh and move the soldiers and horses where he wishes.

"This is going to be so cool," Pom exclaims.

I stroke his fur. I guess one redeeming thing about this unpleasant task is that it'll entertain my looft. Maybe I'll feel less guilty about not spending as much time with him as I should.

Turning light orange, Pom asks Napoleon, "Will you be William the Conqueror or King Harold II this time around?"

"King Harold." Napoleon glances at me as if to say, "See? Some people aren't as ignorant about these things as others."

"Doesn't that mean you'll lose and get shot with an arrow?" Pom flies over to perch on Napoleon's shoulder, and I resist the temptation to call him a traitor.

"Not if I win," Napoleon says with cocky confidence, then looks at me. "Ready?"

I nod, change him to look like Harold, and teleport him to the top of the hill so he can take command of his forces.

Then I strain my powers once more.

All the soldiers come to life, and war cries ring out as two armies face each other. Arrows fly. A shield wall goes up. Horses leap forward. Napoleon/Harold shouts orders at "his" men. Bucketloads of blood are spilled onto the green grass.

Not for the first time, I wonder how this works. Is a part of my subconscious controlling those thousands of soldiers on the battlefield, or is Napoleon helping as well?

Eventually, Harold's forces win.

I turn him back into Napoleon, who looks disturbingly happy—especially for someone whose army has sustained thousands of casualties.

The next three battles consume a lot more time and dream power. First, Napoleon has to describe all the details to me for what feels like days. Then I have to build it all out and animate the soldiers. By the end of it all, I feel like a squeezed lemon that got run over by a bus.

"Thank you." Napoleon squeezes my shoulder—something he knows he's only allowed to do in the dream world. "You kept your end of the bargain, so I'll keep mine."

"Good. Here." I make two copies of the werewolf appear in front of us, one with side burns, one without. "His name is Hans Stubbe. I need his location."

Napoleon rubs his chin. "I know this one. Nasty piece of work. Come see me in the bar—I'll wake up and head over there. I'll tell you where to find him and decide how much to charge you."

"You agreed to keep the cost reasonable."

He grins. "I agreed on four battles." With that, he poofs out of existence, and Pom and I find ourselves back in the tower of sleepers.

"That's what I get for teaching him how to wake himself up," I say to Pom and exit the dream world as well.

* * *

Turning to face Valerian,I explain that we need to make a trip to my guy's favorite hangout.

"Let's go," he says and ushers me to his private flying car, which gets us there so quickly that we end up sipping drinks until Napoleon arrives.

"Napoleon, this is Valerian," I say. "Valerian, this is Napoleon."

"Pleasure," Valerian says evenly, his expression unreadable.

"If you're who I think you are, the pleasure is all mine," Napoleon says, managing to look even more like a little devil.

I put down my empty mug. "Where's Hans?"

"First things first," Napoleon says and blurts out an enormous sum.

Before I can even start to haggle, Valerian says, "You'll have it."

Puck. I forgot to tell him to never agree to the first number Napoleon names. Hopefully the Senate will let him expense this.

"I'll send Bailey his home address," Napoleon says and gesticulates with his little red hands. "He's there now."

I check my inbox. "Got it."

"You're a useful person to know," Valerian says, extending his hand to Napoleon.

My little red friend shakes the offered hand enthusiastically. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Sure, if we redefine "friendship" as "extortion."

"We'd better go," I say.

"Be careful," Napoleon says earnestly. "He's dangerous."

I give him a sharp-edged smile. "Don't worry. We'll live so you can shake us down another day."

* * *

Once we're backin the car, I turn to Valerian. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you. Because of their dual nature, werewolves are difficult to dreamwalk in. When I attempted it during the New York Council investigation, I failed."

He cocks his head. "And you're just telling me this now because…?"

I shrug. "There's a technique I know that might help. In the dream, I'd split into two, one of me to tackle the wolf's dream, and the other to handle the man's. I did something like that when I fought Hekima, who, as an illusionist, was also difficult to deal with in the dream world."

His dark eyebrows knit together. "I have to think about this."

I fight the urge to kiss the frown off that face. "What's there to think about?"

"When I make a decision, I'll tell you." He hands me a familiar breathing mask. "For now, it's moot anyway. Like with Erato, we're just going to establish a connection and scram."

"Hopefully not just like with Erato," I mutter and put on the mask.

He covers his face with his mask as well—a pity.

"Remember, don't talk out loud when we're in the building," he says, the mask muffling his voice.

Going into VR, I message him one word: affirmative.

He chuckles.

Before I can say or write more, we land on the roof of the werewolf's building.

Our elevator ride is uneventful, and the hallway on the fortieth floor is empty—not that making us invisible would be a problem for Valerian's powers. When we reach the apartment door, I message Valerian to hold on for a few seconds.

I've just remembered the touchless dreamwalking I read about in the journal, and I want to try it again. Not only would it spare me contact with germy skin, but also the need for breaking and entering.

Assuming it works, of course.

I strain.

And strain.

The only thing I have to show for my efforts is a vague feeling. When I focus on it, I find the sensation strange. If I didn't know any better, I'd say a part of me thinks a person is sleeping nearby. Well, obviously people are sleeping nearby; it's night. But this feeling is not just common sense. It's… well, a kind of sense, but so faint that I have to conclude it's all in my head.

Probably just nerves.

I message Valerian that we're a go.

Nodding, he takes out the device he used the last time and waves it over the lock. There's a click, and the door slides out of our way. He takes out his electronics-disabling gizmo and tosses it inside.

Getting his sleep grenade ready, he steps in, and I follow—only to freeze when he does.

Five feet away from the door is a giant dog bed, where a shaggy werewolf in his animal form is sleeping. At least, I hope he's sleeping. I don't have that much experience when it comes to slumbering wolves.

Suddenly, the werewolf whimpers, and his giant paws swat at something that isn't there.

That settles that. He's sleeping.

Valerian looks at the wolf, then at the grenade in his hand.

I shake my head and quietly crouch next to the beast.

As I touch the fur on his muscular back, I pray canines—and especially werewolves—arein REM sleep when they whimper and flail like that.

With a whiff of ozone, the room darkens around me, and I fall in.

* * *

I appearin my dream palace—and, thankfully, not in a subdream.

Good. Connection made. Now Valerian and I need to skedaddle.

With a quick wave at Pom, I hop out of the dream world and carefully rise to my feet.

But not carefully enough, it seems.

The werewolf's eyes pop open, staring directly at me.

My adrenaline spikes to toxic levels.

The wolf growls menacingly and tenses for a leap.