13. Marshall

Chapter 13

Marshall

I t was dark by the time they got back to the Boston chapter house, and the air had a bite to it. Marshall could practically taste the imminent snow.

The moment the team made it through the door, Clayton was on Marshall like a nervous puppy. "I made the calls you asked for while you were on your way back. Guardian Callum told me everyone else was busy with their own cases right now, but he was sure you could manage on your own."

"Dammit, Callum," Marshall snarled. He may have said he wouldn't bring Marshall up on charges, but Callum was certainly capable of hanging him out to dry in retribution.

Marshall wasn't anticipating an all-out war with the Blaikes, but knowing he had backup to call on would have been nice. Formidable though his team may be, if a family as powerful as the Blaikes went bad, they were going to be hard to contain.

"Callum is just covering his ass. The Blaikes were allowed to grow so big because of their loyalty to the Guard. No one is going to want to go against them without substantial evidence," Adelle said, reminding him that not everything in the world was about him.

Instead of annoying Marshall, it helped settle his irritable mood. It was nice to not have everything in the world be about him for a change.

Marshall gave his sister a wry smile before saying, "Let's go into the 'Scape and see if we can find some evidence then." He turned to Clayton. "I haven't been here since before I became a guardian. Do you have a place for dreaming?"

Clayton's face lit up. "We just had it redone! You're going to love it. Follow me." He bounced with excitement as he led the team through the dark, wood-paneled hallway. "We did our best to keep it as traditional as possible, but we added all the modern amenities that wouldn't be rendered inert by strong magic."

The building was smaller than Marshall remembered, but he had been little more than a child when he was last here, so that was to be expected. When he passed an old oil painting of a pastoral scene, he paused, causing Jack to bump into him.

"What are you…?" Jack took Marshall by the shoulders so he didn't bowl him over when his chest collided with his back.

Jack's hands were warm and soothing, and the effect was amplified by the magic Marshall could feel humming just under his friend's skin. Something deep inside Marshall missed the sensation when Jack released him, and it uncoiled, ready to reach out to get it back.

Marshall tamped it down immediately. Dreamwalkers kept control of their magic at all times, or else. It was how things had always been in the Guard, and how they would always be.

Marshall focused his attention on his reason for slamming to a halt instead of thinking about why his magic liked Jack so much. He examined the wall beside him, quirked his lips, and knocked on the wall where the wainscoting began. After a few beats, the knock was returned. "She's still here!" he exclaimed.

Jack put a hand on the wall and concentrated. "A brownie?" He was referring to the earth spirits known for taking up residence in old homes.

"She kept me company when Da was busy with work. Most of the time she put me to work in the garden." Marshall grinned at the memory.

"She let you see her?"

"Sometimes. Her fur looked insanely soft, but she bit me the one time I tried to pet her," Marshall said wryly. Rooting through his pockets, he found a mini bag of M we're coming," Jack said affectionately. "Our boy here was being nostalgic."

Marshall looked down at the floor where he'd placed his offering and was pleased to see it had vanished.

"I think she remembers you." Jack ruffled Marshall's hair, earning a swat.

With a look of annoyance, Marshall did his best to smooth his hair down. Once he was satisfied no real damage had been done, he shoved Jack ahead of him. "You go first." He knew Jack wasn't above messing his hair up a second time.

Normally Marshall hated it when people messed up his hair. Even if he didn't have much control over his life, at the very least he should have control over his body. But it didn't bother him half as much when Jack did it. Marshall didn't let him know that, because if he did, Jack would probably do it constantly. Then other people might get the idea that they could do it too…

"Sure thing, boss." Jack gave Marshall a cheeky salute and skipped ahead, a movement that looked bizarre on a man of his size, but as Marshall watched, it became less so, as though the universe itself changed to accommodate him. Dreamwalkers sometimes had a strange effect on their surroundings, but the effect was always more extreme for Jack.

Marshall caught up with everyone at the end of another long hallway, stopping at a set of double doors. Clayton stood in front of them with the air of a game show host ready to present a prize. Once Marshall joined them, Clayton opened the doors and led them inside a lavishly appointed room that could have easily accommodated twice their number.

Marshall was generally inclined to drop his body in any unoccupied spot regardless of its comfort level when he needed to access the 'Scape, so his reaction to the plush, red-velvet couches and chairs was a polite, if noncommittal nod.

Clayton's face looked as though someone had thrown a rock through his car window in the face of Marshall's lack of appreciation, but Adelle's exclamation of pure joy when she threw herself on the closest couch distracted him from his dismay.

Adelle wriggled deep into the soft cushions with an expression of complete bliss, and she said, "Don't mind him, Clayton. On our last job, he jammed himself in between two boulders and left his body in the forest for over a day. The man doesn't appreciate the creature comforts of life."

"Rice Krispies Treats!" On the far side of the room, Jack had taken a large, silver lid off a plate to discover a mountain of cakes and cookies. "Clayton, I could marry you," he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

Mollified, Clayton joined him, excitedly pulling lids off other trays to showcase his offerings. "These trays have various cheeses, meats, vegetables, and crackers. And the carafes have several different kinds of gourmet coffee, hot water for tea, and a variety of different kinds of juice."

Suddenly starving, Marshall hurried over before Jack ate everything. Between him and Marshall, they could pack away an alarming amount of food. Being a dreamwalker took a lot of energy, and all three members of the team always had their pockets loaded with snacks just to keep them going between meals, but with Marshall and Jack both topping out well over six feet, they had it worse than Adelle.

"Save some for me!" Adelle shouted from her position on the couch and was about to get up until she saw Clayton rush toward her with a loaded plate in his hands. "Thank you. You're a doll." She gave him a wink.

Clayton turned as red as his hair, backed up, and stumbled over a chair, falling into it awkwardly. Once he managed to extricate himself, his hair was a riot of curls and his clothes were rumpled. Valiantly, he tried to pat and tug himself into a more respectable shape while the whole team did their best to not react.

"Ahem," Clayton pulled at his collar as though it were choking him. "Is there anything else you require before I go back to my tasks?"

"This will be plenty, thank you, Clayton," Marshall assured him.

Clayton was out the door as soon as Marshall had finished speaking, and the team heard a shaky sigh as soon as it closed behind him.

"I think he's cute," Adelle said.

"Leave him alone," Jack said. "The poor man would explode if you gave him any more attention, and then what good would he be? Think of Samantha. Or if not her, think of my snacks!" He shook a piece of Vermont cheddar at Adelle.

When Marshall realized he wasn't breathing, he stopped shoveling food into his mouth and focused on getting enough air into his lungs. After all his time as a guardian, it continued to amaze him how hungry he could get during an investigation. It would be easier to plan for if he used the same amount of energy all the time, but it always varied. Until today, he hadn't had to use his magic outside of the 'Scape in weeks, and he was paying for it now.

Marshall stuffed a pig in a blanket into his mouth and headed to the couch next to Adelle's. Once he was relatively certain he could speak without choking, he said, "Once you guys are done eating, join me in my Dreamscape, and we'll go from there."

Jack nodded as he made his way through a pile of chocolate-covered pretzels. "What are we in for today? Lake again?"

"It isn't always the lake," Marshall grumbled as he plopped down and dropped his head on the arm of the couch.

"Definitely the lake," Adelle agreed, settling herself into a more comfortable position on her couch.

"It's nearly always the lake, Marshall," Jack said around a mouthful of food. He stood between a loveseat and a fainting couch, trying to decide which one was more likely to fit his bulk. Eventually, he settled on the fainting couch and somehow managed to not look completely ridiculous on it.

Marshall closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath. Immediately his nose itched, and rather than scratching it, he focused on accepting the sensation. Before he could fully accept it, five new spots on his body began to itch, and he expanded his consciousness to accept those as well. As soon as he fully embraced the sensations, they subsided, and it was then that he began to notice the sound of his companions as they settled into their couches. He heard Adelle sigh and heard Jack struggle to find a comfortable position on his tiny couch. When the sounds came to him, he let them drift through him as though he were made of light rather than solid matter.

Marshall's senses ran together, bleeding into an ocean of colors and light. He let go of any tension left in his body and allowed himself to become swept up in the tranquil waves.

They swept over and through him, doing their best to strip away his sense of self—something even a seasoned dreamwalker had to work to avoid. Unless he wanted to become one among billions of other dreamers in the world, trapped in their own personal dreamscape, he had to hold on to himself.

It had been ages since he lost himself to the waves. Their promise of oblivion was sweet, but nothing could compare to being a dreamwalker in the Dreamscape. Once there, the only limitations he had were of his own making.

There were no unimaginative dreamwalker guardians; they would be useless to the cause.

Focusing on the feeling of being Marshall, he rode out the siren-like call of the waves and drifted with them. After an eternity—or possibly no time at all since time was meaningless in the 'Scape—the waves dissipated and gave way to billions of tiny stars.

Marshall sent out a soundless call, searching for the star that felt like home, and got an immediate answer. A massive, blue star that felt like Marshall grabbed his attention and pulled him in. Countless pinpoints of lights whizzed past him, faster and faster as the blue star grew larger.

Soon it had encompassed his entire being, painting him in a light so intense he was burning with it inside and out. Marshall fought to accept the entirety of his personal dreamscape. He took the pain and joy, fear and love—all the emotions that tore well-carved paths inside his soul—and simply allowed them to be.

When Marshall was younger, this part was effortless, but entering his personal dreamscape now was a battle. A familiar but vital one he didn't dare lose. If he failed to accept all he was, he'd be leaving a chink in his soul that could be used against him.

Slowly the light lessened, and new colors popped up here and there, forming shapes. The world settled around him and up and down began to have meaning again. Overhead, he heard an eagle cry out a greeting.

Since Marshall was here on business rather than pleasure, he chose his true form—the one he walked around the Real in.

"Yay, the lake again," Jack said unenthusiastically from several yards away.

Before them lay a placid lake, perfectly round with a single, large, black rock directly in the center.

Marshall squinted an eye, and the whole lake leaped sideways, appearing under Jack's feet.

"That's why I'm always nice to him inside his 'Scape," Adelle said, walking up to join Marshall by the side of the lake.

"It's not like I can control what it is upon entry," Marshall said. Every person in the world had an inner Dreamscape that conformed to who she or he was the moment they arrived. Only dreamwalkers could reliably control their surroundings in the Dreamscape, and even they were only able to shape it after they entered it. "You're lucky I even let you in here at all."

"I know." Jack's eyes grew serious for a split second before lapsing back to their usual rainbow sparkle. "So, where to from here, boss?"

"I think we should go to the Blaike colony and see what it can tell us. Chances are good Stella ordered everyone to stay awake for the foreseeable future, so I doubt we'll get access to any personal Dreamscapes tonight."

"What are we looking for?" Adelle was touching each of her nails in turn, changing their color with each tap.

"Any hint of nightmare activity, for starters. I seriously doubt Cymbeline can open demon portals. With his lack of training, he was lucky he managed anything at all in the cemetery." Marshall spared a quick thought to his hair, making sure it looked acceptable, and for good measure, he told it not to get messy regardless of what happened to it.

"He's lucky he didn't kill everyone there, including himself," Adelle said with a frown.

Now that her nails were a rainbow of colors, Adelle turned her attention to her clothes. In the Real, they all dressed for the job, wearing dark clothes that were loose enough to move easily in, but form-fitting enough that they wouldn't catch on anything. But in the 'Scape, all they had to do was tell their clothes to have the properties they wished. If Adelle wanted to, she could prance around in a string bikini while enjoying the protection of full body armor.

Marshall was kind of glad she didn't. He wasn't a fan of the idea of being forced to work with his half-naked sister. In their line of work, they often ended up getting close and personal with each other. Dreamwalkers were often rumored to be sexually adventurous, but he would never be that adventurous.

Just… no.

Adelle put a hand to her chest, and the dark cloth of her shirt melted and twisted into something silky and colorful that matched her nails.

"Can I drive?" asked Jack, reaching out for Marshall and Adelle's hands.

"Have at." Marshall placed his hand in Jack's and motioned for Adelle to do the same.

Marshall's dreamscape faded into a blur of watercolors, and the terrain shifted and warped until the three were standing outside a monolithic castle overlooking a storm-swept sea.

"It looks perfectly normal from here," Jack said, squeezing each of his teammate's hands slightly before letting go. "Shall we go in?"

Marshall nodded. There was no sense in wasting time snooping around the outside hoping for clues when what they were looking for was most likely inside.

Adelle sniffed delicately. "It figures that the Blaikes would have a medieval castle as their colony. I expect we'll see downtrodden serfs any minute now."

"Observation mode only, guys. There's no point in letting anyone know we're here until we know what's going on." Marshall waved a hand, and a hole large enough for them to fit through opened in the wall.

After they had all climbed through, he waved his hand and closed the hole behind them. Once the hole was gone, Marshall felt something akin to a water faucet being turned off—only inside his body. He didn't feel unduly alarmed, so he paid it no mind.

He'd never been inside the Blaike colony and was surprised to see the inside matched the outside, which was uncommon. In the 'Scape, things were rarely what they seemed at first glance. He would have been less surprised to discover an old western saloon than what he did find—an empty courtyard that looked and smelled like it belonged in the 1400s.

It looked as though Marshall's caution was unwarranted, though. His senses told him the whole place was empty.

"Nary a serf to be seen," Jack said in a hushed tone.

"It all seems perfectly normal, though," Adelle said.

Marshall looked around. "Maybe so, but we should still look around. Even if no one is asleep right now, there should be something here. A colony from a family as old as the Blaikes should be self-sustaining even without its dreamers."

Early dreamwalkers discovered that—aside from having a personal dreamscape—groups of people with a common interest, such as families, companies—or in modern times, fandoms for television shows—could subconsciously create a colony for like-minded dreamers.

Most people tended to have a main colony that housed their personal Dreamscape, but they weren't limited to it. As a person's interests changed throughout their life, they might find themselves visiting dozens of colonies.

Team Fire had a minuscule colony for just the three of them, and each housed their personal dreamscape in it. Of course, being dreamwalkers, their colony had layers upon layers of protection and modifications added to it, so it couldn't accidentally or intentionally be entered by an outsider.

Marshall sent Jack to inspect the towers then instructed Adelle to see if she could find any underground passages. He didn't need to set up a link to join the team this time. In the 'Scape, it took nothing more than a thought to communicate with another dreamwalker.

As Marshall explored the outer bailey, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, idly noting the absence of animal life. Not that there had to be, but why would the Blaike family's subconscious create a perfect replica of a medieval castle and not add in the ubiquitous horses, dogs, and cats one assumed they'd find there?

Now that he thought about it, the fact that he had ruminated on the concept long enough meant that at least a mouse should have manifested itself by now.

It wasn't until he passed though the inner portcullis that he noticed the strange thrumming sensation building under his skin.

It was time for him to check in with his team, so he sent, :Everything is perfectly normal here. Did either of you see anything interesting?:

Adelle's thoughts touched his. :All I could find was a set of catacombs stuffed to the rafters with a lot of really gross dead people. Otherwise, not a single soul to be seen. Perfectly normal.:

:Jack?:

No response.

:Addy, have you seen anything alive here? Anything at all?:

She gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. :No, but that's…:

:Perfectly normal? Yeah, there's a lot of that going around.:

Marshall should have been more worried about not hearing from Jack, but for some reason, it seemed like it wasn't a big deal. Marshall closed his eyes, and the thrumming intensified, making it difficult to think.

:Addy, I think you should get back here.:

:Are you okay?:

:Perfectly normal.:

:I'll be right there.:

Marshall leaned against the wall of the inner bailey, and the rhythmic vibrations became so strong he could feel his teeth rattle. He let his body slide slowly to the ground, needing a minute to rest and gather his strength.

That wasn't right.

He put a hand against the stone floor and tried to lever himself back to standing with limited success.

A dreamwalker didn't get tired in the Dreamscape—the source of all their power literally flowed all around them, continuously creating reality. The only time a dreamwalker got tired was in the Real after using too much magic.

Panting, he forced himself up and held out a hand, for the first time in his life calling out for power in the 'Scape. All he felt was the thrumming sensation growing stronger. What if he wasn't the only one this was happening to?

:Jack! Report!: Marshall tried to sense him but was getting too much interference from whatever was affecting him.

"Marshall, I don't feel so well." Adelle walked to him slowly, looking wan and bleary-eyed.

"Same here."

"It's perfectly normal, though… right?"

"Yeah." Marshall's eyes fought him for their right to close shop early, but he forced them to stay open.

Pain. Tentacles coiling around his body. Trapped. Cruel eyes behind a sharp beak. Too many, too close…

"Jack!"

A massive pulse of rainbow energy battered Marshall's senses, and his vision dimmed as the world spun around him. Adelle's sharp nails dug into his arms as she held him up, helping him to focus.

Marshall braced himself and pushed her away. "Addy, get out of here, I have to find Jack."

Adelle smiled a weak but sarcastic smile. "It's funny you think that's going to happen. It's all of us or none of us, brother dear. Besides, I'm a better finder than you are."

He glared at her and huffed out a sigh that would have ruffled his bangs if he hadn't spelled his hair earlier. "Fine. Take us to Jack."

Adelle touched the pendant at her neck and closed her eyes, immediately turning to point to the looming, wooden doors of the keep. Before either of them could take more than a step, the doors swung open as Jack burst out of the entrance, shouting, "There's an assload of perfectly normal nightmares right behind me!"

Fear clogged up his throat as Marshall took stock of his resources. His internal well of magic was nearly dry—something that shouldn't be possible in the 'Scape. One look at his sister told him she was doing no better.

He had various magical items ferreted all over his body, but without access to the Source, fighting a hoard of nightmares was certain death. He only had one option.

"Fall back!"

If they could get outside the colony, the three of them could convince the place that it didn't exist, and make it pop like a bubble. Then everything in the colony would vanish, including the nightmares.

When Jack reached them, Adelle held out her hands to catch him and swing him around to steal the momentum he had built up from running down the steps of the keep.

As soon as he stopped, Marshall grabbed him and tried to take them away, but the effort took far more power than it should have and threw his mind into chaos.

Synesthetic overload shocked his system, and he fought to remain upright as the hands in his grasp began to taste sharp and metallic. He felt his essence begin to unravel in lazy, freesia-scented bursts.

"My generator…" The words spilled greasily from his mouth, and he felt himself slide toward the ground, knowing when he landed, he would explode in a burst of colors.

Hands halted his descent, and his stomach turned over as it struggled to figure out which way was up. Just as he was about to melt through the hands holding him upright, he felt someone thrust something into his hands. It was cold and smooth and rightness radiated from it, racing up his arm, chasing away the sensation of dissolving into nothingness.

Marshall's eyes fought to refocus on the scene before him, and he became aware of his sister's arms around him, holding him up. He reached out to stroke Adelle's cheek and said, "I'm back… I think."

Hesitantly, he pulled away to stand on his own, feeling loose and buoyant.

Adelle clung to his shirt as if fearful he would vanish on her. "Gods' sake! Don't ever do that again." Finger by finger, she forced her shaking hands to release him.

The power boost from his personal generator had left him feeling giddy, and he bounced up and down on his feet. He was fortunate that past-him had siphoned so much of the Source into it.

"It wasn't intentional," he said quietly, fighting to bring his being back into balance. Over his sister's shoulder, he saw Jack standing between his teammates and the nightmares that had followed him out.

"So…" Jack said in a tone that was probably supposed to be casual but was tight with tension around the edges. "How's Marshall?"

"You know what? I've been better." Marshall came to stand beside his friend. "Why aren't they attacking?"

"Maybe no one wants to be first." Jack feinted a lunge toward the crowd of assembled horrors, and they all slithered back in fear. "Yeah, that's what I thought!"

"Don't taunt them, you overgrown orangutan!" Adelle snapped.

Jack looked at Adelle and gave her a have you met me? look and then turned his attention back to Marshall. "What happened when you tried to shift us out? It looked like you were fading, but… that isn't possible in the 'Scape. Didn't anyone tell you?" Jack's levity wasn't reflected in his eyes. Their impossible color swirled anxiously.

"I was. If Adelle hadn't found my generator and shoved it into my hands, I'd be nothing more than a pattern of pretty lights in the air." Marshall clutched the stone in his hand.

While awake in the Real, a dreamwalker couldn't directly access the Dreamscape and had to rely on stored magic alone. Once they were tapped out, not only would they be unable to use magic, but their bodies would slowly begin to unravel without the magic of the Dreamscape to support them.

It was because of this danger that each dreamwalker carried a stone that could serve as a backup source until they could make it back to the Dreamscape to tank up once more. He never imagined that the first time he'd needed to use one would be in the Dreamscape itself.

On a good day, Marshall was brimming with more magic than most guardians ever dreamed of—it was one of the reasons he was being scouted for the position of praetor. But he had used a lot over the past day, and like a fool, he hadn't bothered to fill up again once inside the 'Scape.

Before now, he'd never needed to. Once inside the Dreamscape, his soul naturally called the wild magic of the universe to itself until its reserves were awash with power. Until that happened, Marshall could draw from the 'Scape itself for anything he needed.

He thought about how weak he'd felt when he touched the walls of the inner bailey earlier. "I think the walls are spelled to draw magic from our bodies. Can you feel it?"

"I can. It's like they're vibrating, though that's perfectly normal." Adelle's voice had grown ragged. "I'm going to have to tap my generator soon."

"What about you?" he asked Jack.

"I still have some left, but now that you mention it, I do feel off my game today. I'll give it a look, but I'm pretty sure it's perfectly normal."

It wasn't surprising to hear Jack still had reserves. He had an even bigger tank than Marshall.

"Be careful. When I tried to get us out of here, the spell took everything I had left."

"Roger that." Closing his eyes, Jack tested the bounds of the spelled wall while Marshall and Adelle watched the nightmares as they inched closer. "Damn clever witches. They've got us nice and trapped. These perfectly normal walls are easily defeated—from the outside. Of course they have that covered by entwining a nothing to see here spell to keep us from being suspicious. Now that we're all inside, the walls will drain us until we fade into nothing."

"Sounds perfectly normal," Adella said through gritted teeth.

"That's going to get old real fast, just saying." Jack grabbed Adelle and spun her around in a little impromptu dance while she spat curses at him like an angry cat. "Hey wall, make her say something less boring, like, ‘Jack is prettier than me, and I'm planning to die mad about it.'"

He yelped and let go when Adelle kicked him hard in the knee.

It wasn't funny, but it was Jack. so… it was a little funny. Marshall wasn't allowed to be funny when shit hit the fan, though, so he pretended like Jack hadn't said anything.

Marshall glared at them both and continued to discuss their mutual problem, "That would explain why they've herded us against the wall."

"They're just waiting for it to do what they're afraid to do themselves. Cowards!" Adelle spat in the direction of the nightmares trying to herd them against the wall.

It was an apt description. Spawned from the fears of sentient creatures, nightmares had little fight in them once they were faced head-on. One-on-one, a nightmare could never hope to defeat a dreamwalker, but with their current numbers, they were a sure bet against three rapidly fading dreamwalkers.

If Marshall was alone, he would throw himself into the mass of dripping, oozing monsters and take as many of them down as he could before they ate him.

He didn't see his team allowing that, but he knew that even if they had all been at full power, they would have been hard-pressed to defeat a thousand or so nightmares at once.

As a guardian team, one of their primary jobs was to keep nightmares from banding together in numbers like these. Fire's objective here was no longer reconnaissance.

Marshall knew they had to find a way to destroy these monsters before they established roots in the 'Scape and began to build a power base. Once that happened, they were nearly impossible to dislodge, and innocent people would suffer for it. But first Fire had to make it out alive.

"You know what we have to do, right?" Marshall asked, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking.

Adelle took his hand. "We can't let them get out of here to feed on the dreamers."

Jack took his other hand. "No heroics, boss. Remember, we have to get out of here so we can stop whatever they have planned for that boy and his champion."

His friend knew him too well.

"I haven't forgotten, Jack. How much do you have left?"

"Well, I tanked up when we got here, so almost enough to unmake enough of these bastards and make a run for it—but not quite."

"Well aren't you special," Adelle grouched, making Marshall think she'd made the same mistake he had in forgetting to fill up in Marshall's 'Scape.

A wave of dizziness passed through Marshall again. His new supply was being drained at an alarming rate. Even though his generator had packed a punch, it hadn't come close to topping him off, and soon he'd be right back where he'd started—fading into nothingness.

"Addy, tap your generator. Jack, have yours ready. I'm going to take almost everything you have." Marshall made a silent promise to himself that he would get his team out alive.

No one else was going to die for Marshall.

His team responded by sending their power into him. He closed his eyes as Jack's star-streaked rainbow joined the flickering ember of blue he had left. Before he could do anything, it surged toward his magic and surrounded it like a dragon protecting its horde.

Adelle's warm amber glow followed, smaller but still brighter than Marshall's. He felt their worry as they realized how low he was, and he sent, :I'll get us through this. I promise.:

:All of us.: His sister clarified.

:Yes.:

The gestalt created by their joined magic might be able to take out the horde right now, but Marshall would surely die in the process and the Blaikes would still be out there causing trouble. He needed to try something different. Something a witch wouldn't think of.

He listened to the hypnotic sound of feet, hooves, tentacles, and unidentifiable wet things moving across the stone as the horde began to close around them, tired of waiting for their meal, but he couldn't allow himself to be distracted. If he was going to have enough power to pull this off, he couldn't afford to spend it on defense.

A small tendril of his team's combined power reached out toward the wall, questing. When it touched the spell inside, Marshall didn't resist the pull he felt but instead let go of his resistance.

:I am you.: He told it. :I am you and you are me.:

It was faint, but he heard its response, slow and cold. :There is only me. Everything not of me will become me.:

Marshall put every ounce of his soul into believing himself to be stone. He knew he was stone, he had always been stone, would always be stone. :I am already you. We are you. We are all.:

Icy, wet claws scraped against Marshall's cheek, but he didn't care. What could claws do against stone?

After an eternity, he felt the wall relax and accept his team as part of itself. :We are stone.: It agreed.

As their bodies morphed and became enveloped by the wall, he noticed how low his sister's orange glow had become. Her generator must have held much less than his.

Panic rose inside him, and he allowed it to flow through him, giving it no resistance, only observing the emotion as it came. Panic would not get him what he wanted.

Jack's essence flowed around Adelle's and cut down her input to their dreamworking to a trickle. Then, flowing over to Marshall, it cut his input almost completely.

Once Jack's magic ran out, they would all unravel in the time it took to take a deep breath. As the thought came to him, he felt the pull of the spell increase, winnowing away at what little protection they had left.

:We believe in you.: His teammates' unwavering confidence bolstered his resolve.

Now that they had been accepted by the physical manifestation of the spell, Marshall focused on the spell itself. A dreamwalker shouldn't be affected by witch magic in the Dreamscape. It would be like a fish holding an ocean hostage.

The original dreamwalkers had been physical manifestations of the Dreamscape—the source of all creativity—and could wield and bend such magic as easily as breathing.

Witches were norms with a mutation that allowed them to draw directly from the Source, but only as much as their talent allowed. Even if witches physically entered the Dreamscape, their power would be no more than it would be in the Real. So why couldn't Marshall defeat this spell?

He went deeper into the spell, looking past the layers of stolen magic, trying to see how it was powered, but he saw nothing. :Adelle, can you do your thing?:

The Adelle portion of their gestalt flared bright amber, shooting out a thin beam for them to follow.

Gently, he pushed his teammates to the back of his mind, towing them along in silent support as he chased the beam of light. They all knew only one person could drive, and if they were to survive, they could do nothing but wait and do their best to hold themselves together.

As soon as he saw the dense core of the spell, Marshall felt his mind begin to fragment. He was out of time. In less than a minute he would be gone, followed shortly by his sister and his best friend. He threw himself at the mass, burrowed inside, and found what he had half-expected—the heart of a demon.

It looked like a diamond, but it didn't sparkle. Instead, it sucked light into itself, hoarding it without giving anything back in return.

Without hesitation, he drove his hands inside the diamond, grabbed a handful of its essence, and pulled hard. After a brief resistance, the taffy-like substance gave way, spilling itself out of the hole he'd made until it was inside out. Keeping his hands on the oozing, stinking mess, he forced it to reveal its true form—a box with glowing eyes.

Demons were created when a nightmare fed enough to create and independently maintain a physical manifestation in the Real. In the Dreamscape, a demon's power was magnified a hundredfold as it was bolstered by the fears of humanity. Judging by its size and the way it cringed from him, this one wasn't very old. If Marshall had been at full strength, unmaking this demon would have been a cinch, but right now?

Marshall felt his fragmenting mind solidify—Jack must have tapped his own generator. Now Marshall could focus on what he needed to do—unmake a claustrophobia demon.

The box tried to make itself bigger so it could draw him inside, but Marshall opened his arms and took the fear into himself, allowing it to Be. Terror built inside his chest and tried to suck him down into panic and despair, but Marshall had been doing this far longer than the demon had been around.

He would be a poor guardian indeed if a shivering box with eyes defeated him. He laughed at the thought, and the demon he embraced shook with fear. He focused on amusement. It was the key. He should have known that a group of witches wouldn't be able to attract a powerful demon to do their bidding.

He laughed again, forcing himself to focus only on ridicule of the pathetic creature. If he didn't, the thing would grow and feed off any chink in Marshall's focus. He drew from Jack's power and laughed harder.

The thing popped like a soap bubble.

As soon as the demon was gone, Marshall could feel the Dreamscape again. He wrapped it around himself and took his exhausted team out of the colony.

Once they materialized outside the walls, Marshall sprawled out on the beach, unable to stand, and reveled in the Source as it poured into him, filling up the empty spaces of his being.

Remembering his duty, he lifted his head and locked the castle down so nothing could get in or out. His head flopped down on the sand, and he rolled to his side just enough to look at his teammates.

Jack.

Adelle sat on the ground, cradling in her lap as much of Jack's enormous body as she could. "He pushed me away before I was tapped out." She sniffed and brushed a lock of hair away from Jack's too-still face, the usual warm brown of his skin now chalky and sallow. "I could have given more."

Marshall went cold. The warmth of the Source was nothing compared to what he was looking at. "How did this happen? He just tapped his generator."

"Marshall, he tapped his right after I tapped mine. The boost you got at the end was—" Adelle's voice broke.

"...Jack." Marshall finished for her. He pushed himself to his hands and knees shakily, feeling nothing inside. "But… his body is still here," he heard himself say from far away.

"I can't feel him." Adelle hugged Jack's body to her chest and began to rock back and forth.

Marshall crawled to his sister's side and sat heavily. Numbness raced through his body, threatening to swallow him. Defensively, his mind went into action, trying to stave off the truth. "His body would be gone if he were…" He couldn't say the word dead. Not in relation to Jack.

When a dreamwalker ran out of magic, the body dissolved, becoming nothing more than scattered remnants of the Source. Had Marshall subconsciously dreamcrafted an image of his friend as they materialized outside the Blaike colony?

It was highly unlikely. A crafting of that nature would take more energy than a half-dead Marshall should be able to manage.

His hand kept reaching out and pulling back, reflexively. He wanted to touch his friend to see if he could sense something. Anything. But the idea of touching Jack—a man with more vitality than anyone Marshall had ever met—and feeling nothing, made him want to curl up in a ball and howl.

So he sat there and did nothing.

For a while, he and Adelle sat on the rocky shore and looked up at the castle, watching as the nightmares threw themselves against the barrier Marshall had erected.

Once Marshall's magic had replenished itself enough, he held out a hand toward the castle and closed it into a fist, crushing the colony and its monsters. When he opened his hand, he saw the remains of the castle sitting in it like so much sand, and he let it fall on the beach beside him.

Dusting his hands on his pants, he stood up, feeling every single one of his one hundred and thirty-seven years.

The void in him that had swallowed the loss of his parents and his young charge Nova had opened once more to take his best friend—a friend who had been doing his best to keep Marshall from succumbing to despair. A friend who had given everything to keep his teammates alive. A friend Marshall was certain he couldn't live without.

Now Marshall found himself teetering on the edge and wondered if it was worth the effort to fight his way free once more like he had after losing his father.

The sky around them grew dark, and the wind picked up. In the Dreamscape, Marshall's will was law; if he lost to despair here, the consequences would be deadly. Enough people had died to keep him alive, and he knew in his heart he wasn't worth it.

"Give him to me," he rasped, throat aching with barely suppressed emotion, bending down.

Marshall couldn't leave his friend behind, and he had to make it back to the Real before he was swallowed by grief. At least in the Real he wouldn't create something horrible when he lost control.

Adelle nodded wearily and uncurled her body to give him access to Jack's… to Jack.

When Marshall's hand touched Jack's arm, a multicolored spark leaped from him to his friend. Jack's body arched off Adelle's lap, and he began to cough violently.

Marshall tumbled backward and landed on his ass, speechless while Adelle gripped Jack securely, trying to give him support while tremors wracked his body.

"Took you… long enough." Jack's voice was weak, but color began to leach back into his cheeks. Jack blinked up at Adelle's astonished face. "Can't keep your hands off me, can you?"

Marshall jerked Jack out of Adelle's lap and into his own, crushing the giant man to his chest. "I thought…" His throat closed.

"Yeah, I know what you thought, idiot." Jack's voice was muffled against Marshall's shirt. "Next time check before you write me off as dead, okay?"

Adelle began to rain a flurry of slaps on Jack, which Marshall could feel through his friend's body. "Why. Did. You. Make. Me. Think. You. Were. Dead?!" Each word was punctuated with a smack.

"I was! Well, mostly." Jack rolled off Marshall as fast as his rebooting body would allow and hid behind him for protection. "Mars, keep her off me, man."

For once, Marshall ignored the nickname he hated so much. He was too confused to do otherwise. "What the hell did you do? How did you survive?"

"I threw everything I had left into you. I didn't know if I could do that, but surprise!" Jack grimaced, giving a lie to his flippant tone. "I knew you were going to die if I didn't, and I knew if there was anything of me left once you were done, you'd get me back to my body."

Marshall buried his face in his hands and wanted to cry in relief, fear, and anger. Instead, he laughed—a strangled sound that sounded like a bird hitting a window.

He pulled both of his teammates in for a hug, and they all sat huddled together staring at the aurora that appeared overhead. As blue, amber, and multicolored jets of light danced playfully in the sky, the team quietly adjusted to the near miss they'd just experienced.

Eventually, Marshall stirred. "Okay, here's the plan. We're going to stay here until every single one of us is completely tanked up. Once we're back in our bodies, we're going to wallow in that palatial lounge of Clayton's, and have all of Jack's favorite foods delivered to us, which we will then proceed to eat in front of him while he watches. Because, I swear to the gods, Jack, if you ever do something like that again, I'll fade you myself! Copy?" His voice shook with emotions he couldn't even begin to process.

Adelle nodded soberly in agreement. "Copy."

"Copy," Jack said, though his mulish expression told Marshall the gravity of the situation was lost on him.

"And after that, we are going to show the Blaikes exactly how we feel about witches who consort with demons."