Chapter Twenty-One

The Realm of Dreams had been made by the Fey to peer into the thoughts of mortals—learn the dreams of a king and you can control the kingdom. As a faerie, I could traverse the Dream Real, enter the dreams of others, and manipulate those dreams. But I had to fall asleep to do that. As the God of Dreams, Morpheus could traverse the Dream Realm freely, enter and manipulate dreams, and take energy from the dreamers, even kill them. And he didn't have to fall asleep to get there. He had a gate that let him walk right into the realm. And I could use it too.

The problem was—we couldn't just trace to the gate. The Gate of Horn was inside the Cave of Hypnos, which was in the Land of Dreams. And the Land of Dreams was in the Greek Underworld. Hades, King of the Underworld, did not permit gods to enter it willy-nilly. If you were a good friend, you could trace into his palace, but Hades's palace was further from the Land of Dreams than the “public” entrance to the Greek Underworld. So, Morph and I traced to the shore before the Groves of Persephone.

Beyond the pomegranate orchard that eternally bore fruit, the Gates of the Sun crossed the width of the Underworld, shining like their namesake. I could just make out the banks of the Lethe beyond them to the left. That was the river we had to cross to enter the Land of Dreams.

“We don't have time to walk,” I said to Morpheus.

“I'm ready when you are.” Morpheus spread his wings. Stars glittered across his midnight feathers, although the light from the Gates of the Sun dulled them a bit.

It was a good thing I'd worn my shifting clothes. Fabric tore as I summoned my wings—just my dragon wings, not the rest of that form. The shirt held but even if it fell away, I still had my bra on beneath it. So I wouldn't have to cover myself in scales for decency's sake. Not as long as I didn't have to go full dragon.

With a crouch and a leap, I was airborne. Morpheus joined me, our wings sending thunder rattling across the sky with every beat. The sound would doubtless alert the races of the Underworld, but I wasn't worried about them. Centaurs, Gorgons, Harpies, oh, my! They were not the biggest monster in the territory. Not at the moment. That honor was now mine.

Morph and I headed for the Lethe. Currently, it was daytime in the Underworld, but up ahead, it was dark. Not shadowy. Dark. And there was no transition. It went from day to night so suddenly that the darkness looked like a wall winding around the Land of Dreams. It was always midnight there, always tea time. I mean, always dream time. I glanced at Morpheus and imagined him with a crazy top hat on, shouting, “It's always time to sleep! There's always time to dream!”

Yup, I was losing my damn mind.

We flew over the Lethe with its waters of forgetting, but that wouldn't be the last we saw of it. It curved around and flowed into the Cave of Hypnos. I suppose it wasn't Hypnos's cave anymore. Now, only Morpheus lived there.

Banking left, we flew away from the Acheron and the Elm of False Dreams that grew on its bank. Soon, the Cave of Morpheus appeared. And there was the Lethe, thinning to flow into the mouth. Morph and I landed and hurried into the cave, walking alongside the river. He took the lead, and we soon came to the Gate of Horn, its impressive archway framed with the antlers and horns of massive creatures. Tips poked out from the mass aggressively, but I barely paid them a glance, just hurried through.

Into the misty blue world of Dreams we went—the God of that realm and me. But we barely made it three feet before we paused.

Morpheus looked at me. “You have a stronger connection to Azrael than I do. Where is he?”

I frowned and searched for the line that connected us. “I . . . I can't feel him.”

“You must be nervous. Try again. Clear your mind and take a deep breath.”

I took that breath and let it out slowly, clearing my mind of all but Azrael. I felt his cord then. It was bright inside me. As strong as ever. But that's the only place it was. It didn't wind through the Dream Realm.

“No,” I whispered. “It can't be.”

“Shit,” Morpheus cursed. “He's not dreaming, is he?”

I stared at the veils hanging in midair on either side of us—doorways into the dreams of mortals and immortals alike. And I knew Azrael's veil wasn't there. Because he wasn't there.

“No,” I said. “He's not here. But how can he not be dreaming?”

“If he's in some sort of magical stasis, his mind could be consumed by it. That wouldn't be a dream. Souls leave their bodies to dream in this realm. If Azrael's soul isn't here, it could mean that his soul is trapped inside his body. The stasis is preventing him from leaving.”

“Damn it!” I hissed. “I really thought this would be the way to wake him. ”

“Me too, V. At least, I hoped it was. I did wonder if Odin was right.”

“I hate it when Odin is right!”

He chuckled. “No, you don't. Just this time.”

“Yeah, I guess.” My shoulders slumped and my wings lowered with them. I'd forgotten to banish them. “Oh, Az,” I whispered. “I'm failing you.”

“You're not failing him. We'll get to him another way,” Morph said. “Don't worry, V. As long as Azrael's alive, he's going to be fine. He has to.”

“Yeah.” My shoulders straightened. “You're right. He has to be fine. Because if Az dies, I'm going into the Void to bring him back just so I can kick his ass for being such a fool!”