Chapter 20

"He got soscared by the second mention of Collywobbles he woke up," I say, though the tightness of Valerian's jaw tells me he's already puzzled that out.

"Wake us up," he orders. "I have to tell the Enforcers to pump his cell with sleeping gas again."

Nodding, I jolt him awake and do the same for myself.

Opening my eyes in the bedroom, I watch in stunned fascination as Valerian leaps out of the bed and starts a hologram call with someone.

The Enforcer vampire I saw earlier answers—and he doesn't lift an eyebrow at either Valerian's nude state or my presence.

"Sleeping gas," Valerian barks. "Pump it into the werewolf's room. Now."

The Enforcer walks over to a screen with a bunch of buttons and frowns. "He's already sleeping."

He gestures to the screen in question, and we see that indeed the werewolf is lying there, as though sleeping.

Or faking.

Or—

"Slice off his right index finger," Valerian orders urgently.

Gruesome, but sure to reveal if the guy is indeed faking.

The vampire moves with the speed of his kind. In a blur, he shows up on the same screen as Hans, curved blade in hand.

Whoosh.

The finger and the werewolf go their separate ways.

The guy doesn't wake up or cry out.

My heart sinks. I suspected this might be the case, but—

The vampire touches the werewolf's throat and looks at the camera. "He's dead."

"Heal him," Valerian says through gritted teeth.

I'm not sure if the vamp heard him or just had the same idea, but he slashes his wrist with the blade and forces some of his blood into the werewolf's mouth.

Nothing happens.

Valerian curses and punches a nearby wall.

The vampire comes back and begins pressing buttons next to the security monitor that shows the inside of the cell.

The security footage rewinds and plays again.

"There," I say when Hans opens his eyes. "That must be the moment he woke up."

What Hans does next isn't a surprise. He looks around the cell, realizes he's been captured and kept under. Then his index finger and thumb tap out a familiar code. As soon as he finishes the sequence, his body slumps—but not in sleep.

Valerian curses again. "How soon can you get a healer there? Or a doctor?"

"Not soon enough to make any difference," the vamp says.

"I'll call back." With an angry gesture, Valerian ends the call.

As he grabs some clothes, I try to get my thoughts in order. "What did the pucker mean by ‘blast radius?'" I ask, doing my best to keep my eyes off Valerian's rapidly disappearing nakedness. It's too distracting, and I need to focus. "Did you have any reason to think Icelus would blow up half of Gomorrah?"

Valerian pulls a shirt on over his head, covering his mouthwatering abs. "No. Just that they were going to do something."

"My mom is within the blast radius," I say. "I need to move her."

He gestures in his VR. "I just made the arrangements," he says after a minute. "She'll be moved to one of the few hospitals not in the Health District."

I let out a relieved breath. "Thank you." Everything's happening so fast I haven't had a chance to properly freak out, and now I won't have to. Except… "What about everyone else? Will there be an evacuation?"

"That's up to the Senate," Valerian says. "But I doubt it."

"Why not?"

"If Icelus learn about the evacuation, they'll set off the bomb, or whatever it is, right away. Or they'll move it and kill even more people." Grimly, he adds, "Not to mention, the panic such an evac would create would serve Icelus's purposes just as much as an explosion would. Maybe more."

I swallow. "Because fear causes nightmares?"

He nods. "Also, if Icelus are smart, they'll change the plan as soon as they learn Hans has disappeared."

"Meaning Mom won't be safe even at the new hospital?" My stomach tightens with the freakout I thought I'd avoided.

"No one's safe." Valerian's jaw flexes. "Not unless we do something."

To my shame, I fleetingly contemplate getting Mom through one of the gates—and staying off world with her. But such a journey would be risky in her condition. Not to mention, I wouldn't really let millions die. However… "What about an evacuation to the Otherlands?" I suggest.

"The hub is in the blast radius," Valerian says. "Also, there's no practical way to get millions through a handful of gates quickly enough."

I blow out a frustrated breath.

"It's not the worst idea, though," he says. "You can go to Earth. Sit this out."

"No," I say with a determination I don't feel. "I'm going to stay, and we'll prevent this thing."

He studies me intently. "You have an idea?"

"Sort of. I didn't get a chance to tell you something. The guy in the puck mask—I've seen him before."

I proceed to tell him about the search for Itzel's grandfather and how it also featured the pucker.

"So we know he met Hans in a morgue, and that he hired Filthy Bastards to kidnap Cadmael," Valerian says thoughtfully. "It's a start."

"Right. And when I last spoke with my friends, Felix was going to see if he could link a purchase of a puck mask to the man."

Valerian looks intrigued. "And did he?"

"I don't know, but there's a way to find out. Give me a minute."

Since Valerian now knows about Pom, I openly touch the furry creature on my wrist and fall into the dream world.

* * *

"You're back,"Pom says. "How did that werewolf dreamwalking go?"

Usually, I wouldn't worry him, but I can't help rattling out the situation as I seek Felix. As my symbiont who can no longer be removed from me, Pom is exposed to all the same risks as I am.

"I'm sorry about that," I tell him.

"Don't be." Turning a brave teal hue, Pom raises his chin. "I'm glad to be your symbiont."

Smiling faintly, I fluff his fur and jump into Felix's dream.

* * *

Felix is buyingMaya an ice cream cone.

I make her disappear, and he looks around in confusion.

"This is a dream," I say.

Pom lands on his shoulder. "Hi, Felix."

Felix looks at Pom, then at me. "I'm never going to get used to this, am I?"

"I'm here to get some important information," I say. "Did you figure out who the guy in the puck mask was?"

Felix regretfully shakes his head. "Too many stores. Too many purchases."

"And no other leads?"

"Afraid not." His unibrow pulls together. "Why do you look so worried all of a sudden?"

I push back my hair, which I haven't bothered making fiery. "Where are you? In the waking world, I mean."

He looks confused for a second, and no wonder. In a dream, it's difficult to recall where you went to sleep. Scrunching his face, he says, "A hotel near Itzel's place on Gomorrah, I think." Looking more certain, he adds, "Kit and Ariel are in the rooms next to me."

"Good. Meet me at Itzel's, and I'll explain everything."

With that, I wake him and terminate the dream.

* * *

I comeout of the trance to a sense of movement.

What the puck?

I open my eyes.

Holding me in a fireman's carry, Valerian is entering an elevator.

"Hey!" I push on his chest. "What's the deal?"

"Emergency meeting of the Senate." Turning, he presses the button for the rooftop with his elbow.

"I can walk from here," I say and instantly regret it—it feels nice to be held by him.

He sets me on my feet as the elevator stops at the destination, and we dash to the car.

"Can we stop by Itzel's place on the way to the Senate?" I say as we jump in.

"What's the address?"

I tell him and explain that I want to pick up my friends.

"Fine," he says. "But have them wait on the roof."

I call up Itzel, who answers in a sleep-grumpy tone. I can hear the others in the background as well. I quickly tell them to meet me on the roof and hang up.

Valerian must have some illegal turbo mode on the car because it breaks every speed limit on the planet, getting us to Itzel's roof in record time. Itzel, Ariel, Felix (in his robot suit), and Kit are already there, waiting.

Somehow, they all manage to pile in, suit included, and Valerian tells the car to head for the Senate building while I explain the imminent threat to my friends.

They take it surprisingly well, looking only slightly wild-eyed at the idea that a blast might wipe us out at any moment.

"I don't understand," Felix says. "How is Itzel's grandfather connected to this terrorist act?"

Itzel's eyes look squinty. "What was the blast radius again?"

I tell her.

She does something in VR, mumbling under her breath.

"Is she doing math in the middle of all this?" Ariel whispers.

"Maybe she's trying to triangulate where the bomb would need to be located to create that blast radius," Felix says. "That would narrow things down a bit, but not enough for anything actionable."

Kit turns into Itzel but without the mask. In Itzel's voice, she says, "I heard gnomes find calculations soothing."

"Hmm," the real Itzel mumbles. "It just might be possible. And if anyone could—" She yelps and give us all a confused look.

Valerian must've done something startling to her with his power to remind her of our existence.

"Did you figure out the link?" he asks her with exaggerated calmness.

"The Vega reactors," she blurts.

"That's the power source on Gomorrah," Felix whispers loudly to Ariel. "Supplying electricity and such."

"Everyone knows that." Itzel gives Felix a baleful glare, and he shuts up. "Purely in theory," the gnome continues, "that technology could be modified to create a device that would release a surge of energy all at once. The resulting explosion might have the blast radius you described."

I smack myself on the forehead. "Of course. Your grandfather invented the Vega reactors. If anyone could turn them into bombs, it would be him."

Felix's robot hands jam into the armpits of his suit. "But surely those reactors are guarded."

Valerian shakes his head. "If Icelus are smart, they'll make their own reactor from scratch, then use that as the basis for that bomb."

I sure am glad Valerian is on our side; he always seems to know exactly what the bad guys should do.

"Is it hard to make the Vegas reactor thing from scratch?" Ariel asks.

"Vega," Felix corrects.

Itzel gives Felix another glare. "It would usually take a team of engineers, but if a single person could, that would be Gramps. He's done it before."

"Not good." Felix tries to wipe the bead of sweat off his forehead with his gloved hand and nearly gives himself a concussion.

Valerian puts a finger to his lips.

Everyone stops talking.

Valerian messes about in VR for a few seconds, then looks at us in frustration. "I just heard from the team of Enforcers dispatched to capture the Filthy Bastards. The hope was that someone else in that gang knew something." He gestures at something in his VR. "They didn't."

Kit turns into some of the gang members we fought earlier. "That was fast."

"Sometimes even the Senate can mobilize quickly," Valerian says. "Speaking of—I just sent them your theory. They want me to patch them into the car."

"Do it," I say for everyone.

Valerian gestures, and the car windows turn opaque before becoming screens. A second later, Senate chambers—familiar to me from the media—appear on the screens around us.

"Wow," Felix mutters.

You can say that again. All the Senators are perched on gravity-defying throne-like seats—except for the mere-folk, who float inside specially designed water tanks.

Each Cognizant type that officially lives on Gomorrah is represented, except for rare ones, like centaurs and cockatrices. Also missing are the types not allowed residence—like necromancers and giants—but the rest are there, including orcs, dwarves, and elves.

"We didn't see the point of you coming here in person," says an elf Senator I've seen in the media.

Valerian doesn't look the least bit impressed or intimidated. "Do you have an update for me?" he asks imperiously.

"The Enforcers are en route," the elf replies. "They'll watch everyone going in and out of every morgue. We also sent out most of the Senate Guard to help."

Valerian's jaw tenses. "Do not let them go in without me." His gaze moves from Senator to Senator. "With my illusion power, I can cloak them. Otherwise, we risk the terrorists committing suicide."

"Would that be so bad?" an orc Senator asks.

"There were many people at the meeting, and they mentioned a High Priest—a leader of some sort," Valerian says. "We know nothing about any of these individuals, so unless we get very lucky and they're all there with the puck-masked one, extracting information has to be our top priority."

"Agreed," a dryad Senator says and gestures in the air. "I'm sending you the list of morgues. We looked into the owners, but no one rang any bells."

Valerian nods. "Can you also let me know which morgues already have Enforcer backup waiting for me?"

"Done," the dryad says, gesturing some more.

"Me?" I whisper to Valerian. "Don't you mean ‘us?'"

"Later," Valerian whispers back. To the Senate, he says, "Are you keeping the information contained?"

"It's been classified," booms a dwarf Senator. "Only the Enforcers, the Guard, and the Senate know anything. And we're not even evacuating, as you can see."

"Nor are you helping the Enforcers," is what I don't say. I'm willing to bet they will evacuate before regular people get the chance. They're politicians, after all.

Valerian locks eyes with the dwarf. "Just to confirm regarding my compensation…"

"No taxes for life." The dwarf tugs at his beard. "For you and your companies."

"And my colleagues." Valerian nods my way.

"Fine." The dwarf looks like he's swallowed a particularly scaly ri, living up to the frugal stereotype his kind loathes.

"Also, Gomorrah citizenships," Felix blurts. "For those of us who were born elsewhere."

"Done," the elf says. "Let's not waste valuable time on trivialities."

Grunting in approval, Valerian terminates the call and examines something in his VR.

"What did you mean before?" I ask him. "The whole ‘me' business."

"No reason for any of you to go with me," he says, only partially paying attention. "My illusionist powers combined with the presence of the Enforcers should be all that's needed."

Itzel's shoulders stiffen. "My grandfather was kidnapped. I'm going."

"And I refuse to miss the fun," Kit says. "So I'm going as well."

"I'm with Itzel," Ariel says.

"And I'm with Ariel," Felix says, though he sounds a lot less enthusiastic.

"Well, I could actually be useful," I say. "If something goes awry, I'll drop a sleep grenade and invade the pucker's dreams to learn what we need."

Valerian finally stops what he was doing and pins me with an intent stare. "You won't put yourself into any danger."

"Deal," I say.

"Fine." He tells his car an address—no doubt our first morgue destination.

As our ride whooshes forward, I tug on Valerian's sleeve and whisper, "Did you move Mom?"

Nodding, he gestures around, and LEGO letters show up:

In your inbox is the address of the new hospital. I chose the second place where her gnome doctor does his rounds.

Wow. I could kiss him right now, microbiome or not. Now it should be easier to focus on the task at hand—which apparently consists of nothing less than saving millions.

Ugh. Since when do I do things like this? Did I catch hero tendencies from Felix, Kit, and Ariel? After all, they did once participate in an epic battle to save multiple Otherlands, including Earth. I wonder… if I do save the day, would that help me forgive myself for Mom's—

"Why the long face?" Ariel asks, yanking me out of my musings.

"Feeling guilty," I reply before I can catch myself.

Felix's unibrow dances a complicated jig on his forehead. "What about?"

After a moment of hesitation, I tell them everything: how Mom always asked me never to dreamwalk in her, our fight, and her resulting attempt at suicide.

Everyone digests the info in silence for a few beats, even the usually carefree Kit.

"You're looking at it all wrong," Felix finally says.

I lift an eyebrow.

"Did you ask yourself why?" he says.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"I think he's wondering why your mother didn't want you to dreamwalk in her that badly," Ariel says.

The question hits me like a centaur hoof to the head.

Why indeed? Before, I figured Mom had forbidden me out of privacy concerns, but I don't think she values privacy to the point of killing herself to maintain it.

It's something bigger. It has to be. But what? Is there something Mom doesn't want me to learn in her dream world? Maybe something to do with those black windows I saw there?

Something from the past she's always refused to talk about?

Then again, if it were related to the black windows, she wouldn't remember whatever it is. And, come to think of it, she always claimed not to remember—about my father and so many other things… In any case, can you really fear someone learning something you forgot? I guess it's feasible. If the memory is horrific enough, Mom might know to keep me away, even without recalling the exact reason.

Valerian places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I look up at him. Speaking of black windows, I almost forgot about the one I saw in his—

"Ready?" he murmurs.

I look out the window and realize I was too preoccupied to notice our landing.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply and follow Felix and Ariel out of the car.

A group of Enforcers and one member of the Senate Guard are already waiting for us.

Dressed in all black, the Enforcers are armed with daggers and swords, while the Senate Guard has both a sword and a gun on his hip that's similar to the illegal one that I still have stashed behind my waistband.

I sneak a peek at Ariel to see her reaction.

Like in New York, all Gomorran Enforcers are vampires, their powers a great fit for law enforcement.

To my relief, Ariel is ignoring the vamps, her full attention on the Senate Guard instead.

Of course. The Senate Guard are not vampires. For many reasons, most of them political, they're ubers—the same type of Cognizant as Ariel herself. Meaning that, like Ariel, this Guard could jump on a cover of any Earth fashion magazine and not look out of place—especially if the issue in question featured Navy SEALs.

This impressive specimen must be extra strong and fast to have gotten the highly sought-after post.

Valerian notices me gawking at the uber and scowls.

What's this? Is he actually jealous?

"The morgue is on the top floor," the uber says—and even his voice is pleasant to the ear. Looking at Valerian, he adds, "I was told you'd be in command."

The unspoken part seems to be that the Senate Guard thinks he should be in charge, but the stupid politicians pucked everything up as usual.

"Stay close to me," Valerian growls and strides for the elevator.

Ariel, Kit, and even Itzel give the Senate Guard appreciative glances as we follow.

On the ride down, Valerian shares the info the Senate provided about the mortician in charge of the place, such as his name and how much he paid in taxes last year.

I wonder what use that last part is to us.

When we walk in, the morgue looks exactly how they're portrayed in the media on Gomorrah—which is not at all like the ones on Earth. The bodies of the departed are not kept in metal drawers but on tiers of floating-in-the-air slabs. There's no need for refrigeration, as each has been preserved using a special plastination procedure that keeps them from decomposing for many years.

The three options for burial on Gomorrah are, in order of popularity: cremation, going into the ground at the enormous cemetery on the other side of the planet, or getting eaten by a few Cognizant types that are into that sort of thing—which usually means a financial reward for the departed's family.

The chubby mortician hovering over a not-yet-preserved body isn't aware of us.

The Enforcers and the Guard look at Valerian.

"Not him," Valerian says, and the mortician remains none the wiser.

We check the rest of the morgue to see if there's any other staff we can look at, but find none. Retracing our steps, we leave the Enforcers and the Senate Guard to watch the ins-and-outs in this morgue and fly to the next location on the list.

Again, we're met with Enforcers and one of the ubers from the Senate Guard, and again the mortician can't be our culprit—he's a dwarf.

No luck in the next morgue either. Or the one after that.

When we land on the next roof, I recognize one of the Enforcers—he's the guy who was watching Hans the werewolf and chopped off his finger.

"Hi again," the vamp in question says to me.

"Virgil, this is Bailey," Valerian says, giving the Enforcer a disapproving stare.

The rest of the Enforcers, as well as the Senate Guard dude, introduce themselves.

Since I'm not good with names, I only remember Virgil's name and that of the uber—Onassis.

Like before, Ariel pretends the vampires don't exist and stares at Onassis's drool-worthy butt as we make our way to the elevator.

"This mortician's name is Wrakar," Valerian says, reading the info in his VR. Everyone looks at him, and he tells us how much money Wrakar made the prior year and other not-so-useful details.

Reaching the floor the morgue is located on, we confidently walk in.

"Wait," Felix whispers when the first body comes into view. "Those marks on the body weren't there in the other morgues."

He's right. The marks are actually carvings in the flesh that are lit from the inside with some strange energy.

Is this some fancy burial procedure I've never heard of? If the intent was to make the departed look more festive, it's an epic fail. The carvings make the body appear macabre instead.

Spotting the markings, Ariel goes vampire pale. "Not again," she breathes, backing away.

I'm about to ask her what's happening when a bolt of energy hits Virgil and the other Enforcers.

For a second, the vampires look stunned. Then, without a warning, the Enforcer closest to Valerian lashes out with his sword.

By some miracle, Valerian dodges to the left—which puts his face right in the trajectory of another Enforcer's fist.

The impact of knuckles striking bone is audible.

Valerian flies up and crashes to the ground in an unmoving heap.