Chapter 19

I stare at him,my heart rate doubling.

"It's a delicate situation," he continues. "The woman hates dreamwalkers with a passion."

I blink at him, even more confused.

"Just go inside," he snaps. "Go, or I'll make you."

With Pom turning pitch black on my wrist, I enter the cursed room and freeze, unable to believe what I'm seeing.

It's Gertrude.

She's lying on Kain's bed, staring emptily at the ceiling.

"She's my primary suspect," Kain says as though she's not there. "She envied Tatum and Ryan's marriage—don't ask me why—and she fiercely and openly despised Gemma. You already know how she feels about dreamwalkers."

"But no one died by rotting to death," I say.

"Of course not. She's not stupid enough to kill that way—she'd be the only suspect."

I peer at her unmoving body. "What's wrong with her?"

"I had to glamour her," Kain says. "She has a huge problem sleeping in front of others, to put it mildly."

"She's got good reason." I step to the side and back, putting him between me and Gertrude. "Between her REM Sleep Disorder and the gangrene-giving, it would be dangerous for any witnesses."

"And yet I'll make her sleep, and you'll check to make sure she's not behind the murders." He turns to the empty-eyed woman and instructs in a honey-laced voice, "Gertrude, cuff your right ankle to the right bottom corner of the bed."

She sits up and does as ordered. Another command, and she locks her left ankle and right hand, leaving herself mostly spread-eagled. I expect Kain to do something about her left hand, but he doesn't.

"With that arm free, she can still grab one of us and make whatever she touches rot," I tell him. "You've got to lock it up."

"Do you want to lock it up?" he asks with a sneer. "I'm not getting anywhere near her skin."

So vampires can rot. What a gross discovery.

I look Gertrude over. With her short skirt and sleeveless top, she's showing way too much skin to approach without a hazmat suit.

"Gertrude, sleep," Kain croons.

She closes her eyes right away, her breathing evening out.

Wow, I'd give a lot for that particular power.

"Now do your thing," Kain orders.

I gingerly step closer to observe her eyelids.

"What's the holdup?" he asks.

I turn back toward him. "I have to wait until she's in REM sleep."

"Isn't REM sleep when that free arm becomes a problem?"

I sigh. "If I go in now, I'll have to deal with the subdream, which carries its own danger."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I could die in the dream world."

The eyebrow goes almost comically high.

"If I die there, I'll become homicidally insane."

The eyebrow comes back down and meets its neighbor in a frown. "Is that how things work for all dreamwalkers?"

"As far as I know."

Kain's gaze sharpens. "Could that have happened to Leal? As in, he died during dreamwalking and became—"

"Didn't Gemma get killed after he was already dead? Besides, are you suggesting he killed himself using those birds?"

"We do have to consider the possibility that there might've been more than one killer," he says with less enthusiasm.

"If it was Leal, the murders would've been a lot more brutal," I say. "All of you would've known he'd gone crazy. He'd have acted like a puck."

"I see," Kain says. "Still, I say it's a good thing you've been focusing most of your attention on Gemma's murder."

"Right." I go back to watching Gertrude's eyelids.

"So what are you waiting for?"

"I just told you. The subdream—"

"Go in," he snaps. "And don't die. Waiting is riskier, trust me."

I back away from the bed as his eyes turn to mirrors. "I'll do it—"

His eyes fade to normal.

"—but there're a few more problems. If I survive the subdream section, my power will force Gertrude to snap into REM sleep. That means her loose hand will become an issue."

"I'll pull you away from her as soon as I see signs of REM sleep," he says. "You can then come back into her dreams from a distance, as I know you can do."

He knows? I was trying to keep that under wraps.

"That might work," I say grudgingly. "But there's another, bigger problem. For me to use my power, I have to touch her—and if I touch her, I'll lose my finger." I glance warily at Gertrude's exposed skin.

"Can you enter someone's dream by touching their hair?" he asks. "I've seen Gertrude zone out while one of the monks was giving her a trim, which tells me the hair should be safe to touch."

"‘Should be' doesn't sound reassuring."

His eyes turn into slits. "Can you or can you not use hair to do your job?"

"No idea. In theory, I don't see why not. The body has hair all over, so I've probably done it inadvertently. But I've never tried it with the hair on someone's head, because that's a cesspool of dandruff, oil, mites, germs—"

Inside their slits, his eyes turn into mirrors again. "Bailey," he says in that special voice, "you'll touch the tips of Gertrude's hair, far from her skin. Now."

I attempt to fight the compulsion, but it overtakes me even faster than when he glamoured me before the Council meeting. My body moves forward on its own, my arm extends, and my finger lands on the strand of hair farthest away from Gertrude's face.

If my face were under my control, it would be cringing.

To my relief, my finger doesn't rot. Then again, maybe that's still to come.

"Bailey, I release you from glamour," Kain says ceremoniously. "Enter her dream now."

The only reason I don't explode into obscenities is that I'd wake Gertrude, and she'd rot me first, ask questions later.

"Stop it with the hesitation," Kain growls. "I told you I'll pull you away as soon as I see her eyelids move. Now do your job."

Fine. I hope this works, else I'm fairly sure he'll make me touch her where my finger would be in even more trouble.

Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw hurts, I will myself to enter Gertrude's dreams.

The hair is a go. I catch a whiff of ozone and experience the sensation of falling as the room darkens around me, propelling me into the familiar trance.

Now I just hope the subdream doesn't drive me insane.