Chapter 30

This time,Nina's dreaming about eating sushi. She doesn't use chopsticks like the customers nearby. Instead, pieces of raw fish dip themselves into soy sauce and fly into her mouth.

The windows in the restaurant are black, just like the windows from her other dreams.

"Remember me?" I slide into the booth across from her, pick up a piece of raw salmon, and plop it onto my tongue. If someone were to put a gun to my head in the waking world to make me repeat that action, I'd probably refuse. Death by gun is certain but less painful than having your brain eaten by the parasites that live in raw fish on Earth.

Nina looks around. "This is a dream?"

"I imagine the Mandate would prevent you from using your powers in a human restaurant," I say.

"You're right." She looks at the windows. "I think I remember what you've come here to do."

"Yep." I follow her gaze. "Now which is the one to avoid?"

"That one." She points at the black window nearest the restaurant entrance.

"Got it." I eat a piece of fatty tuna. "So I just fly in?"

"That's what Leal did."

I stand up, already bobbing a few inches off the ground. "Before I go, I was wondering… Why didn't you tell me about the black windows earlier?"

"I needed you to know I wasn't guilty. After all, my black window is a motive for me to kill Leal."

I lift my eyebrows.

"I would've killed him if he'd tried to use whatever I forgot against me," she explains with the calmness of someone discussing the weather. "Same if he'd tried to make me remember whatever I forgot."

Note to self: Definitely don't piss off Nina.

"Makes sense," I say. "But why do you think Leal set up a dead man's switch in the first place? Why use your dreams?"

A piece of squid sails into her mouth, and she looks thoughtful as she chews. "For all we know, he might have another fail-safe besides me. Or many. When I asked the same question, he said computers could be hacked and that lots of hackers would be eager for that job. But dreamwalkers are rare, and dreamwalkers who know about black windows are rarer still."

She's got me there. I nod wisely.

"You know what? Try that window." She points at the black glass to my left.

"Why?" I float higher.

"I don't know." She studies the window intently. "I'm hoping that on some level I know which ones have something to do with the murders."

That's good enough for me. "Let's go for that one, then." I confidently torpedo into the black window she just chose.

* * *

I half expectthe onyx glass to shatter around me, slicing my skin, but instead I end up plunging into a freezing black lake. Struggling to swim, I will myself to become lighter than water.

It doesn't work.

I will the water to become saltier and thus heavier, but that doesn't work either—nor does willing myself a life vest.

My ragged breathing speeds up. What the hell? I try exiting my body so I can strategize, but I'm stuck inside myself as much as I'm stuck in this lake.

Fine. I'll just swim.

Stroke after stroke, I edge closer to the nearest shore, testing my powers as I go. Changing water to clouds doesn't work. Teleportation doesn't, either. I call out to Pom but get no answer. So odd.

Unlike the times I'm in a subdream, I know that I'm in the dream world now. It's just that my powers don't work. I guess I'll have to do the obvious—just keep swimming.

I focus on swimming, only swimming. And swimming. And swimming. My breathing grows labored, yet the shore is still far away. After what feels like an hour, every muscle is aching, even some I didn't know I had.

The shore is still a mile away, and I feel like giving up.

But I can't sink. Sinking will either kill me—and make me go insane—or it might be the way one "fails to enter" a black window, which carries the penalty of losing power for the day.

Gasping for air, I let the motions of my arms and legs become my whole world. With every excruciating stroke, I tell myself that my muscles aren't really burning, that it's not real air I'm greedily gulping. Everything around me is as real as a mirage.

The moment my hand touches the dirt of the shore, the lake—and my exhaustion—disappears.

* * *

I findmyself in a dream where Gemma is alive and standing in a well-lit gym. One of the windows is black. Perhaps my way back?

In front of her, a donkey-sized wolf is running on a treadmill nearby. Must be a werewolf. He or she is going cheetah fast, working the machine so hard it creaks under the strain.

"Don't stop," Gemma orders. "I want to see what your kind's really capable of."

Foaming at the mouth, the werewolf keeps running until the machine starts to smoke and stops on its own.

"Good boy," Gemma says. "Now let's see if you can use the elliptical."

Moving as if under glamour, the werewolf attempts to mount a machine clearly not designed for an animal with paws. Gemma watches his struggles with amusement.

This is weird. Why did Leal store this dream as blackmail? Also, is this an actual memory he stole from Gemma or just a figment of his imagination? My usual sense of "memory or not" isn't working, but that could be because the dream is stored in Nina's dream space, not Gemma's.

The wolf looks to be in pain as he futilely tries to climb onto the elliptical, over and over.

Then it hits me.

Gemma's power was controlling animals, regular animals, yet here in this dream she's able to control werewolves in animal form, too. This must be something only the most powerful of her kind are able to do; I had no idea it was even possible.

Maybe Eduardo, as alpha of the pack, found out and disapproved. Having been subjected to glamour, I can say without a shadow of doubt that if I were a werewolf, I'd very much disapprove. Puck, maybe this is his friend she's putting through hell, or even Eduardo himself.

In other words, this could be a motive for Eduardo to kill Gemma—a solid motive, at that.

I watch Gemma put the poor wolf through a half-dozen more cruel ordeals before I end up back in the sushi place.

Nina blinks at me with an amazed expression.

"You saw that?" I ask.

"I think I saw through your eyes. It's so strange to know that I'll forget it as soon as I wake up. It's so clear in my mind now."

I steal another piece of salmon from her plate. "Do you think Eduardo would've killed Gemma over what I just saw?"

She traces circles on her napkin with a fingernail. "If someone on the Council had that sort of power over me, I'm not sure I'd let them live."

That note not to mess with this woman? I mentally underline it as well.

"I'm going to check another black window," I say. "Which one do you want me to try next?"

"How about that one?" She gestures across the bar. "I have a feeling that will also be about Eduardo, though no idea how I know."

I gulp down a glass of water and launch myself into the window she chose. This time, I pay closer attention to what happens during the process.

As soon as the tip of my head touches the glass, I'm plunging into the cold water, only this lake is much larger, so I have to swim at least a mile farther. Only curiosity and iron will prevent me from drowning.

When my hand touches the shore, a new dream starts.

* * *

I findmyself in a bedroom with a black window. Tatum is in this dream, making the room smell yummy in the disturbingly sexual way typical of her kind. And she is very much alive. Entwined with Eduardo in his human form, she's going at it with the enthusiasm of a teenage male bunny, but all the skills of a courtesan.

It's a shame someone this good at something is no longer alive. I bet she could've written a book that would make the Kama Sutra seem dry.

When they're done with all the gymnastics, Eduardo wraps himself around her sweat-covered body. Licking her delicate earlobe, he murmurs, "I love you. Leave the wimp… please."

Tatum stretches in his arms like a cat. "You don't really love me, my pet. You're just under my spell."

He lets her go, his eyes turning wolfish. "I'm not under anyone's spell. I just want you—and I get what I want."

"Of course," she purrs. "Big bad alpha is always in control."

The room smells yummier than ever, and Eduardo's pupils dilate. Soon, other parts of his anatomy fill up with new vigor.

Wow.

The next session is more impressive than the last, and more such sessions follow. After Tatum uses her powers to make him go crazy with lust five more times, the dream stops.

* * *

Nina is blushingwhen I get back to the sushi place, and I can't really blame her.

"Well, that just happened," I say lightly.

"I know." She sips her plum wine. "Tatum was also controlling Eduardo with her powers—a grave offense."

"When he said she should leave the wimp, he meant her husband, Ryan the elf, right?"

"Without a doubt," she says. "Eduardo sometimes called him that when they disagreed."

Finally, a promising lead. "So what happened? Did Ryan find out about the affair, get pissed, and plant an arrow in Tatum? Or did the werewolf learn how to use a bow like an elf?"

"I imagine the latter," she says. "He could easily have pushed Ryan off the cliff. In his wolf form, he could've gotten close enough before Ryan realized what was happening."

"But I don't understand why he'd kill them both. I mean, I can see why he'd kill the husband of the woman he desired, but—"

"He probably killed her to regain control. There was pressure within the pack for him to take a mate, and that has to be another werewolf. He could've killed the elf to cover his tracks. Or he could just as easily have done it in a jealous rage—and that kind of thing doesn't follow logic," she adds with a shrug.

"I don't know," I say. "It feels too premeditated for a jealous rage. But let's say Eduardo's the killer. Why would he kill Leal too?"

Nina floats a piece of shrimp into her mouth. "That's hard to say. Maybe because he knew Leal would know his motives for killing the others. Or maybe Leal knew something else."

I consider that. "You know, Leal was going out of his way to get into the dreams of werewolves."

Her gaze sharpens. "There you go. Maybe he succeeded, and one of the windows is going to hold Eduardo's secret."

I look at said windows. "Which one do you think it is?"

"No idea," she says. "My intuition isn't making any more suggestions."

"Puck. I guess I can try one at random."

"Let's just hope you don't learn a secret that someone will later want to kill you over."

"Great, thanks," I mutter. Taking a breath, I eeny-meeny-miny-moe myself a window. "Here goes nothing."

I fly at the black surface before I can change my mind.

* * *

This time,it would be more accurate to call the lake a sea. It's so big I can't even see the shore. Having no other choice, I swim.

And swim.

And swim.

When my muscles tire to the point of failure, I finally glimpse the shore in the far distance. The sight gives me a boost of strength to swim some more. But an hour later, I can swim no longer. The shore is five hundred yards away, but it might as well be across an ocean.

I grit my teeth and keep moving my leaden limbs.

A muscle in my leg cramps, and I begin to sink.

Puck. I've got to at least hold my breath.

Nope. That's an impossibility with breathing this ragged.

Burning like acid, water flows into my sinuses, and pain explodes in my lungs.

A few agonizing seconds later, I drown.