Chapter 31

Puck.All she needs to do is touch me, and whatever body part she gets, I'll lose.

Except she's dreaming, so she can't see me.

Gambling on that, I turn sideways moments before she can brush her fingers over my face. She passes right by. However, if she keeps heading in that direction, she's going to be a problem for Kit.

I recall something from the time I had to sleepwalk in her during my Council investigation.

Touching her hair is okay.

Without giving it too much thought, I whack the back of her head with the knife handle. Then, for good measure, I do it again.

As she drops like a stone, I realize this is the second time I've knocked her out under dire circumstances. One more, and the universe should let me punch her out for free.

I turn back to the stage—and come nose to nose with the High Priest, who promptly aims a kick at my injured knee.

It buckles underneath me, and I fall onto all fours.

Through the haze of pain, I realize this is it.

I've blown my only chance to overpower the gnome.

But hold on. The High Priest isn't the only gnome here who has the information I need. As the inventor of the reactor, Cadmael was the one who'd turned it into a bomb. I bet he can help disable it too. With all the fighting for my life, I didn't get a chance to think of this earlier.

Above me, the High Priest forms another lightning ball and shoots it at Kit.

Kit transforms before getting hit.

I look at the far, far away bed where Cadmael is. If I were there, I'd jump into his dream and wake him up—I can still feel him in REM sleep. But given the state of my leg, I'd have to crawl, which means there's no way I'd make it there in time.

Maybe Kit could throw me. But no, she's too busy with her own battle. Besides, who says I'd land in any condition to dreamwalk? I can barely stay conscious as is.

Then I remember it.

Touchless dreamwalking.

I haven't tried it since the beta testers gave me a boost of power. There's a chance I could make it work now.

Closing my eyes, I extend my hand in the direction of Cadmael's bed and strain to make the connection.

It doesn't work.

I strain harder.

Nope.

I take another route. I imagine standing there, above the elderly gnome's tiny body. I imagine touching his wrinkled forehead, picture how I'd want to clean my hand afterward.

The exercise is effective in that I can almost feel the germy skin under my fingers.

Still, nothing happens.

No, wait.

Something is happening.

Something both odd and familiar.

There's a small voice in my head, a voice that seems to be saying, Who are you, and what do you want?

Of course. He's a gnome, so I need his consent.

My name is Bailey. I'm a friend of Itzel, your granddaughter. I'm trying to help you. Please let me in.

No mental reply comes, but something yields and I enter the gnome's dream world.