Chapter 49

I feel amazing—andnot just because of more sleep. My pain and injuries are gone without a trace. I open my eyes and see why. Isis is moving calmly around the Council meeting room, healing everyone with her powers.

Rising to my feet, I look for Hekima—and instantly avert my gaze, wishing I could rub sanitizer on my eyeballs.

So much for my plan to question him.

Hekima is no more. At least I assume those are his remains in a pile approximately where he last stood. Someone has done something unspeakable to the grandfatherly illusionist.

His skin—all of it—is missing.

Kit grins at me. "He won't be bothering anyone ever again."

I swallow down a surge of nausea. "What happened? You were supposed to knock him out."

Kit shimmers briefly, and I catch the outline of a drekavac. "A promise is a promise."

Oh, right. She'd said she would kill Tatum's killer as a drekavac. This raw meat is the result. I don't know what it says about Kit that she was able to do this—or me, that I'm more upset about losing out on a chance to learn about Soma than the unspeakable torment Hekima must've experienced in his final moments. Then again, he did murder all those Councilors and was going to kill me and my friends, not to mention some members of the Council who had nothing to do with his daughter's unfortunate fate.

"Speaking of promises," I say, pushing aside all thoughts of Hekima and Soma for the moment. "I need to talk to Isis."

It's time the Council gave me my reward and healed my mom.

Kit follows me, and we wind our way through the confusion of Councilors, catching up with Isis as she heals her last patient.

"Can we go to Gomorrah now, as agreed?" I ask.

She wrinkles her nose. "One condition: You need to take a serious shower. Or maybe ten."

Kit sniffs the air. "Oh, yeah. I'm on board with ten. And I should have some clothes in your size."

"Deal," I say, doing my best not to inhale my own stench. As much as I want to get Mom out of the coma right away, I doubt she'd want to wake up to the perfume of the sewers.

The three of us go to Kit's quarters, where she grabs a box of garbage bags, an entire rack of clothes, and two big bottles of soap and shampoo. We take it all back to my quarters.

"I'll be back in an hour." Isis looks me over. "Or do you think you need two?"

"Two should do it."

They leave, and I bustle into the bathroom with the soap, shampoo, and garbage bags.

The first thing I do is take out Leal's comms from my pocket. I hope it's a waterproof model—or if not, that Felix can get the info from it anyway. Cleaning the thing, I put it into a bag.

My stinky clothes go into another bag. That bag goes into another bag and so on until I run out of bags. Then I turn on scorching water and begin lathering and rinsing. Even after I run out of products, I stay under the spray, hoping to wash off any remaining cooties. Eventually, I get pruney enough to improve the stools of an army of cannibals. Reluctantly turning off the shower, I dry off, use my last remaining hand sanitizer on my body, and dress in Kit's clothes.

Pocketing the bag with the comms gizmo, I inhale the air.

No stench.

But hmm… Now that I'm paying attention, I do detect a faint pine scent.

Wait a minute—

Someone clears his throat.

"Valerian?" I look around the empty room with wild eyes. "I just smelled you."

"You did?" He materializes two feet away, as gorgeous as the last time I saw him. "I'm losing my touch."

Pom,I mentally shout. Pom, wake up!

What is it? Pom's voice is groggy. Can I not get uninterrupted sleep anymore?

Quickly, what does this guy look like?

Pom sounds thoroughly bored. Tall and muscular.Wide in the shoulders. Dark hair, blue eyes. Chin dimple, well-defined cheekbones.

Don't describe him—show him to me,I mentally growl.

Why? You're seeing what I'm seeing.

I feel the tension leave my forehead. I am? There's no illusion? He really looks like a pucking sex god?

A beat of silence, then: I don't know what a pucking sex god looks like.

A silly grin threatens to stretch my lips. Right.You can go back to sleep now. Thank you.

How about you only wake me up in emergencies going forward? Pom grumbles.

Whatever, I reply as Valerian arches a black eyebrow in amusement.

Puck, I've again been staring at him in silence, like an idiot.

Pulling myself together, I scowl up at him. "How long have you been hiding there?"

His sexy lips quirk. "Are you asking if I saw you like this?" He casts an illusion, conjuring up a more attractive version of me—who looks exceptionally naked thanks to the sanitizer glistening like oil on her perfect skin.

"Or this?" he continues as I stare at him openmouthed. This time, the modelesque Bailey is engaged in what looks like the Playboy version of showering. I doubt my movements were remotely that sensuous, and I doubt even more that I paid that much attention to my boobs.

Still, my cheeks—and other places—feel hotter than the surface of the sun. "You watched me in the shower?"

A mischievous grin appears on his face, reinforcing the feeling that I've met him before. Except I haven't. He's the kind of man I'd remember forever. "I came here to thank you." He dispels the shower illusion. "Bernard made the breakthrough I needed. The money has been transferred to your account on Gomorrah."

Right. The money. He's got me so off balance I almost forgot about that.

"Good," I manage to say. "But that doesn't excuse your invading my personal space."

His grin turns wicked. "You're right. It's rude of me. You showed me yours; the least I can do is show you mine."

Another Valerian appears to the side of us, gloriously naked and covered in some liquid.

Oh. My. Estrogen.

Sex god doesn't even begin to cover it. My blood rushes to all sorts of private places, and I feel a bizarrely unsanitary urge to lick every one of those toned muscles.

The fully clothed Valerian winks as his naked doppelg?nger steps into the shower and lathers himself with soap.

Can you faint from arousal? Or have a heart attack?

He makes his showering self disappear. "Are we even now?"

I just stand there, doing my best not to fan myself.

He steps closer, ocean-blue eyes gleaming. "You know, I still feel like we know each other from somewhere."

I dampen my suddenly dry lips. "Same."

"I wonder if there's a way to jog our memories?" He leans toward me, and the room around us transforms into a familiar lush bedroom with a king-sized bed covered in silk sheets and rose petals.

My lungs cease functioning, and my body feels like I'm in the middle of a heat wave. For some reason, the thought of those sensual lips on mine doesn't—

The door to the room bangs open, making my heart spring into my throat.

"Ready?" Isis asks as if Valerian isn't here—and I bet for her, he isn't.

"Yeah," I reply breathlessly. "Let's go."

"Rain check," Valerian whispers in his heated molasses voice. When I look back, he's gone.

I blow out a shaky breath. Mom better appreciate the sacrifices I'm making to heal her.

Isis leads me to the parking lot, where a limo is already waiting for us. I spot Ariel and Felix walking to another car and call out to them.

"Can you give me a second?" I ask Isis.

"Sure."

She climbs into the limo and closes the door as I hurry over to my friends. Their nice clothes are ruined, but their bodies seem fine—at least Ariel's. Felix is more covered up, so it's harder to tell.

"How are you guys?"

Ariel makes a check mark in the air. "Killed not one but two vampires, yet didn't drink any blood."

I beam at her. "I think you're officially cured."

Felix shuffles from foot to foot. "Kit said Hekima made me fight you. I'm so sorry I hit you."

"Well, I knocked you out." I grin and pantomime a punch. "I think that makes us even."

The limo with Isis honks.

"I've got to go." I take out the bag with the comms device and hand it to Felix. "This is the gizmo we spoke about. I'd be grateful if you could pull anything you can from it, especially if it has to do with a place called Soma."

Felix's unibrow comes to life. "Is that a whole Otherland or a town?"

"No idea. I just know it has something to do with dreamwalkers. I'd like to learn more."

He pockets the bag. "I'll work on this ASAP."

"Thanks. I'll see you guys later." Suppressing all thoughts of germs, I give each of them a hug.

It's amazing what a little swim in the sewers does to one's squeamishness.

* * *

The rideto JFK happens almost as it did in my dream, but when we get to Gomorrah, I don't waste time on snacks. I get us a car right away, so anxious to get to the hospital I almost forget to breathe.

No one brings up the billing as I locate Dr. Xipil and introduce Isis. As he did in my dream, the gnome doctor gathers a few colleagues in Mom's room. My heart squeezes as I look at her. Her brain activity is flat, and the pucking machines make her look so frail.

"Do we unplug the patient?" Dr. Xipil asks Isis.

"No," she says, "not until I'm done."

"Makes sense." He stares intently at her hands.

Again—or rather, for the first time in real life—Isis shoots my mom with an arc of golden energy as I watch with bated breath.

With an eerie sensation of déjà vu, Mom's brain activity goes from flat to frantic, and my heartbeat spikes alongside it. I can already picture all the things I'm going to say to her, how I'm going to apologize for the fight we had, for all the times that—

"Remove the machines," Isis orders. "Now."

The medical staff does as she says, while Isis keeps the healing energy pouring into my mom. If someone were monitoring my heartbeat, the needle would be jumping up and down like a seismograph during an earthquake.

The machines get disconnected, but unlike in my dream, Mom's eyelids stay shut. Isis stops the flow of healing energy and touches Mom's forehead.

"There's nothing more to heal," she says, "but something seems to be wrong. Is she sleeping?"

I try not to panic as Dr. Xipil looks at the brain scan. "It doesn't look like regular coma activity," he says. "It is reminiscent of sleep, but something seems off. I've never seen anything like this."

Oh, that doesn't sound good at all. I clench my hands, the nails digging into my palms as Isis says, "How about we wake her up?"

The doctor gently shakes my mom's shoulder.

Nothing happens.

He shakes her less gently—still nothing.

Isis rolls her eyes and slaps my mom on the cheek. The others gasp, and one man moves to stop her. Dr. Xipil shakes his head in warning.

Mom doesn't wake up.

I feel like I'm on the verge of a meltdown.

Isis grabs a cup of water from a nearby doctor's assistant and splashes Mom in the face.

Still nothing.

"Maybe we wait for her to wake up naturally?" Dr. Xipil suggests.

Isis shrugs, so we all wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Each second that passes increases my anxiety. Unable to stand still, I pace around the room, nearly tripping over the doctor's feet twice. "I'll be back in a few," he says after it happens for the third time, and disappears for the next hour.

When he finally reappears, Isis grips me by the shoulder. "I need to go. There's not much more I can do. Sleeping is more your area of expertise."

I inhale sharply. "But—"

She turns on her heel and exits.

Dr. Xipil regards me speculatively. "What did she mean about your expertise?"

I push back a frizzy curl with an unsteady hand. "I'm a dreamwalker. If Mom is really sleeping, theoretically I can go into her dreams."

His eyes narrow. "So do it. Maybe you can wake her up from within."

"I…" I cast a glance at Mom's prone figure. Worry for her is like a worm eating me on the inside, but I can't ignore the heavy weight of my promise. "I can't," I say bleakly. "She doesn't want me in her dreams. Let's just give her a chance to wake up."

Dr. Xipil looks exasperated. "You stay here and wait then. Get me when she awakens."

I can tell he wanted to say if she awakens.

He and the rest of the staff disappear to go about their business, and I take a seat on a low-slung couch near the bed, silently begging Mom to wake up. But she just keeps sleeping. An hour goes by, then another and another. Eventually, exhaustion overcomes me—my four-month sleep debt is still weighing on me—so I ask a nurse to keep an eye on Mom in my stead and close my eyes for a few minutes. I doubt I'll actually fall asleep; I just need to rest for a little bit…

I wake up to Dr. Xipil's voice and jackknife to my feet.

"Any progress?" I ask, frantically rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "How long have I—"

"Thirty-six hours asleep—ten for you—and not a single REM cycle," he says. "I tried giving her stimulants, but it didn't help. This might be a type of coma I've never heard of, one that can only happen when a healer is involved. Your powers may be the thing to try next."

My breath catches in my throat. They're going to make me do it. "Dr. Xipil, I don't know if… I mean—"

"I'm sure your mother didn't anticipate this situation when she said she doesn't want you dreamwalking in her."

My hands begin to tremble. Why is this so hard? I look at Mom's serene face. "I don't know. I just don't know."

"If you don't wake her up now, we'll have to put the feeding tube back in."

I swallow, staring at Mom, already seeing her with all those tubes poking out of her. Would she rather have that, really? If it were me, I'd want my daughter to do everything in her power to wake me. Maybe Dr. Xipil is right. There's no way Mom could've anticipated this dilemma. It's one thing to keep me out of her dreams when she's dealing with depressive episodes; it's another matter entirely when her life—or at least, her consciousness—is on the line.

I square my shoulders. Screw my promises. I'll beg Mom's forgiveness when she wakes. "I'll do it," I tell the doctor. "But since she's not in REM sleep, you need to prepare to subdue me if I start acting weird. You remember that case about a dreamwalker killing people?"

Nodding solemnly, he leaves and comes back a few minutes later with a syringe and several burly security guys. They form a semicircle around me, hard faces reflecting equal parts curiosity and concern. I ignore them, mentally steeling myself to survive yet another subdream.

There's never been a worthier reason to risk my sanity.

Stepping over to Mom's bed, I place my hand on her cool, still forehead.

"See you soon," I say softly, and taking a deep breath, I jump into her dreams.

THE END