Chapter 5

My right hand clutched the burning and throbbing mark branded on my chest. The other latched on to Thomson as he herded me back inside while multiplying the apologies. I couldn’t focus on his words. My head spun, and my body tingled with a foreign energy that pulsated outward from my brand. My chest felt so constricted that I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen in my lungs.

He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me…

I had to keep repeating those words to myself or else I would lose it. Another wave of panic almost overwhelmed me as we navigated around the broken glass of the holding cell before exiting that room.

Images of the reinforced glass wall shattering then his shadow tentacles grabbing me started replaying in a loop in my head. In that instant, I’d believed my final hour had come. Seconds from my body slamming against his, I’d expected Zain to drain me with the same voracity he had siphoned Jared and that Cthulhu Beast.

After that dreadful night, I’d dream of a similar scene for weeks thereafter. The Mistwalker would bash in my bedroom window, then pin me to my bed with his tentacles to feed on me. As I lived alone, it would have taken a few days of me not showing up to work and not answering calls before someone came to check up on me, only to find the dried-up husk that remained. The growing intensity and vividness of those nightmares had eventually driven me to seek therapy.

He hadn’t hurt me. He’d even tried to comfort me. That might have worked, even just a little, had he not put whatever that thing was inside of me. What was that even doing to me, right now?

“Am I going to turn into something like him?” I asked as Thomson ushered me inside a room in the middle of the corridor we’d been treading.

I blinked at the excessive brightness within, realizing it was some kind of infirmary. A pretty female with brown skin and long, silky black hair—likely of Indian descent—came to me with a concerned look in her eyes.

“No, Ms. Connors,” Director Thomson said in a reassuring tone. “No harm will come to you from this. I will explain everything to you a little later. For now, I’d like Dr. Chandra to give you an exam.”

“An exam for what?” I asked, suddenly feeling on the defensive. “For that thing?” I tapped on the marking on my chest which continued to throb and appeared to grow darker and more defined with each passing minute. “And no, I don’t want to wait until later. I want to know now what the fuck is happening to me.”

Dr. Chandra slowly approached me, wisely stopping at a non-threatening distance. “Ms. Connors,” she said in a soothing voice and a gentle smile that did help a little. “You have just gone through a traumatic experience. You are extremely agitated—with good reason—but I fear you are about to start hyperventilating. You are a psychologist. I do not need to list the symptoms to you.”

I swallowed hard and hugged my midsection. The rational part in me knew her words to be true, but the other part didn’t give a damn. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly.

“Very good,” Dr. Chanda said in an approving tone.

I repeated the process a few more times until my head began to clear. Opening my eyes again, I glared at Director Thomson. He held my gaze, not with defiance, but with the calm acceptance of someone in the wrong determined to fix things.

“What is this thing?” I asked through my teeth. “Can you take it out?”

“That is the brand that anchors him to you,” Thomson explained in a gentle voice. “Unfortunately, it can never be taken out. Even if Zain dies, his brand will remain on you. This was what I had asked you about earlier. When a Mistwalker touches a human, he can choose to implant a part of him in that person as some sort of beacon.”

“A beacon for what?!” I asked, bewildered. “Clearly, he already knew how to find me, both eleven years ago and today!”

“Yes,” Thomson conceded in an irritatingly soft voice. He was trying to calm me so that we could talk rationally, but I just wanted to break something. “However, he could only do that during the Mist. Once the portals open, and he enters our realm, as his creator, you shine bright like a beacon that he can easily go to. But once it recedes, he is completely in the dark, unless you are asleep.”

“And now?” I asked, dreading where that was headed.

“Now, he can contact you at any time, even after the Mist has ended.”

“WHAT?!”

“BUT that brand doesn’t give him access to your house,” Thomson quickly added, before I could freak out again. “He cannot enter without your express consent, as is currently the case with all Mist Beings. Furthermore, there is a cost to him using this connection. As long as he is in the Mist, if you aren’t dreaming, contacting you through this link will be extremely costly, energy-wise. But if he’s here in human form, then being anchored by his creator becomes necessary for him to be able to stay for extended periods of time.”

The expression on his face, the intensity in his eyes, and the way he pronounced those last words gave me a cold shiver as understanding dawned on me. I took a step back, eyeing him with horror.

“You wanted this to happen,” I whispered, feeling betrayed.

Had I been so gullible? Had he been playing me from the start? To my complete shock, he didn’t even try to deny it.

“Yes, Ms. Connors. I had wanted you to anchor him to our world,” he admitted without the slightest hint of remorse. “But not like this. I had hoped it would not only be consensual, but that you would be the one to offer it to Zain as an incentive for him to join our cause.”

I gaped at Thomson, speechless.

“Ms. Connors,” Dr. Chandra intervened, “Just like Alfred… I mean, Director Thomson, I have been with the Fourth Division pretty much since its inception, fifteen years ago. We have never seen a Mistwalker as powerful as yours. Never. The glass wall has been tested under hundreds of scenarios with both Beasts and Walkers. None of them ever even managed to make a dent in it. We didn’t trick you.”

She took a shuddering breath and clasped her trembling hands before her. The sight of the woman visibly struggling to control her emotions and maintain her composure made me forget part of my own anger and distress as confusion settled in.

“Six years ago, my baby brother died to a Nightmare named Morgan,” she said with a shaky voice. “His creator was the sweetest woman you could ever meet. An artist whose biggest crimes had been slightly going over the speed limit and not properly sorting her recyclable wastes.”

Like I had done previously, she hugged her midsection.

Thomson gave her a commiserating look before pursuing in her stead. “Dr. Chandra’s brother, Rajiv, was one of the agents assigned to eliminating that abomination. He and far too many of my other agents died, not to mention countless innocent civilians. If such a nice woman as Jade managed to involuntarily conjure up that abomination, imagine what the real monsters and sociopaths out there have been unconsciously unleashing on our world through their own Nightmares?”

I felt my blood drain from my face. “Are you saying that Zain—”

“No,” Dr. Chandra stated forcefully. Having regained her composure, she lifted her chin with determination. “Your Nightmare is not a monster like Morgan, or Darryl who is out there currently killing people. That mark is the proof,” she said when I opened my mouth to argue. “The killers rarely brand their creators. But the few that do make sure it’s as painful and excruciating a process as possible.”

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Because the anchor mainly serves to allow a Walker to stay here without the need to siphon others,” Thomson said. “Which in turn also means they have to be careful since not doing so keeps them weak.”

“Whereas Nightmares don’t need an anchor since they coldly go out and gorge on as many victims as they can to become as powerful as possible,” I concluded, understanding dawning on me. They both nodded in acknowledgement. “But Zain craves power.”

“He craves your approval more,” Dr. Chandra said. “When Director Thomson first came up with the idea of this project, I thought he was crazy, and told him as much. But I don’t think so anymore. Your Zain has the power to turn the tide and prevent the death of more innocents like my brother. I know this is not what you thought you were signing up for, but we need you to see this through.”

I swallowed hard, feeling like I was getting conned into something that I would live to regret. But I’d already gone down that rabbit hole. The throbbing on my chest alone was a reminder that, like it or not, that ship had sailed, and my sorry ass was on it.

“So, what happens now?” I asked, feeling somewhat dejected.

“I’m going to give you a quick check up to make sure you didn’t get hurt,” Dr. Chandra said. “Then, Thomson will take you back to your quarters where dinner will be brought to you.”

“Before you go to bed, you will have some decisions to make,” Thomson said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“What now?” I asked, tensing up.

“There is no doubt in my mind that Zain will lure you into the Mist while you sleep,” he said cautiously. “Don’t worry! You will be safe.”

His face heated when I gave him the ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ look.

“After the shattered glass incident, I fully understand you doubting my word when I say you’ll be safe,” Thomson conceded, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish expression. “But it is true. Your body will remain safely tucked in bed. He will lure you to the Mist in your sleep. The difference is that instead of being a passive actor in your dream, this time, you will be fully aware and making conscious decisions.”

“So, you’re saying that I’m going to be wide awake inside my dream,” I said, looking at him like he’d eaten one funky mushroom too many.

He snorted and smiled. “I know it sounds weird.”

“This entire fucking evening has been nothing but a weird fest,” I snapped.

Dr. Chandra bit the inside of her cheeks to repress a smile, while Thomson nodded.

“Take the next few hours to digest all that has happened,” Thomson said. “I hate doing this to you, but time is of the essence. The selfish part in me is glad for this brand as it forces us to move faster. But another part of me had hoped to have more time to prepare you. You cannot hide anything in the Mist. Zain will be able to read your mind like an open book. If you do not truly wish for him to crossover and fight for our cause, he will know.”

“He can read my flipping mind?” I asked, flabbergasted, then threw my hands up in despair and aggravation when he nodded.

“In our world he can only read your emotions, but in his, he can read everything,” Thomson confirmed with a sympathetic expression. “However, so can you.”

I perked up at that comment. My eyes locked with his, I eagerly waited for him to continue.

“It will not be instant,” he cautioned. “The more time you spend in the Mist, and specifically the more time you spend with him, the stronger the connection between you will be. Eventually, you will be able to read him as clearly as he does you.”

That was a small consolation, but it was better than nothing. With time, it could prove a very useful tool. He didn’t have to go into further details for me to know I would have my work cut out for me.

After he answered a few more of my questions, I reluctantly submitted to Dr. Chandra’s exam—or Anika as she insisted I call her after Thomson left the room. I didn’t need her to tell me that I wasn’t hurt. Aside from that wretched brand on my chest and the alien energy coursing through me, I was totally fine. Now that panic and terror no longer controlled me, I had to admit that Zain had been gentle in his handling of me. The disconnect between what he was and how he acted was screwing with my head.

After Anika gave me a clean bill of health—although mentioning my iron was a little low—she released me to the good care of her boss who escorted me to my quarters. As it required us to pass in front of the room with the broken holding cell, my jaw dropped at the sight of a full construction crew hard at work. They had not only already replaced the broken glass wall, they were now busy reinforcing it with a second layer. How the heck they got here with the Mist was beyond me.

Along the way, Thomson showed me the training room, the cafeteria, as well as the access to a giant holding area where various Mist Beasts—like that seahorse fairy they had used as bait earlier—were held captive. The idea of caging creatures bothered me. However, knowing they weren’t sentient but as apathetic as that fairy had been, made me feel better.

My room blew my mind. Huge and spacey, everything boasted light shades of grey, beige, and white. The modern but minimalistic décor gave it a very Zen feel. Everything screamed quality, from the King-sized bed, to the plush comforters and puffy pillows piled on top. A designer desk with sleek lines and a cushioned desk chair faced the wall left from the door. A giant screen covered the entire side wall in front of the seating area further left from the desk. It currently displayed an exotic wilderness scenery, creating the peaceful haven that I needed right now.

But it was the delectable aroma of the three dishes covered on the small, two-person table next to the seating area that retained my attention. My stomach growled from a hunger I hadn’t really felt creeping in with all the insanity of the past few hours.

Hours… I couldn’t believe how much my life had completely changed in such a short time. I uncovered the first plate and stared in disbelief at the huge, bone-in ribeye steak sitting on my plate. Since the Mist had nearly wiped out the herds of many farms and breeders, the cost of meat had skyrocketed. Everyone could still afford most cold cuts, bacon, and offal. Everything else had become a treat for the common folk. Thankfully, research and improvement of plant-based meat over the past decade had greatly helped compensate. Furthermore, fish and seafood having been spared by the Mist Beasts—who didn’t go into the water—had taken a much bigger place in the world’s diet while remaining affordable.

But that single ribeye in my plate would easily cost a little over two-hundred dollars. I didn’t doubt for a minute that they had given me a bone-in steak so that there would be no question it was the real thing. I barely touched the all-dressed baked potato—delicious though it was—or the accompanying collard green salad. A smart decision, too. By the time I finished the meat, even sucking the bone, my belly was close to bursting. It would have been a crime to have filled my stomach with the sides and wasted such a divine gift. I washed the whole thing down with the glass of red wine on the tray before bringing the whole thing to the tray slot outside of my room for one of the staff to pick it up.

After locking my room, I showered in my private bathroom and changed into the nightgown I had brought in my overnight bag. Before leaving his office to go see Zain, Thomson had it delivered to my room.

Thankfully, it was still too early to go to bed. A part of me dreaded that moment. For a second, I wondered if I should have taken Anika up on her two offers. But I didn’t want to take any drugs to calm me or help me sleep. Once I faced Zain—and I didn’t doubt I would soon—I needed to have all of my wits about me. And the second option of sleeping with their cameras monitoring me in case I became excessively agitated so one of them could wake me just felt too creepy. I didn’t want some stranger observing me while I slept.

But the truth was that I’d subconsciously wanted that confrontation. I hadn’t known how things were going to play out, only that they could allow me to put to rest the unresolved trauma that had been my constant companion for the past eleven years.

I hesitated for half a beat then settled in front of the desk. A laptop on a closed network had been left for me. It opened on an internal wiki that contained the answer to every question I could possibly have about the Mist—well, almost—the Mistwalkers, Nightmares, murders, and the Fourth Division’s initiatives.

I skimmed through a number of pages that covered things I already knew from both speaking with Thomson and reading conspiracy theory websites. It was disturbing how accurate they had been. I was disappointed not to find confirmation if the world governments were responsible, but that was fine. I was more interested in Nightmares, Walkers that had crossed over, and the waves of serial killers over the past decades.

Realizing that this phenomenon was occurring all over the planet floored me. It should have been self-evident but hearing about it happening in the countries with the lowest crime rates in the world, such as Finland and New Zealand was mind-boggling. It turned out that variations of the Mist Squad Project were being developed in every country. The wildest ones included some kind of robot-cops while others relied on some kind of mechanical armor, like Tony Stark’s Iron Man.

The latter seemed like a good idea, but remembering how easily Zain had smashed the bulletproof, reinforced glass wall, I believed that a strong enough Nightmare would turn anyone wearing those suits into a heap of junk.

“No fucking way!” I whispered in disbelief when I reached the page with all the stats on the recorded demographic of Mistwalkers that had crossed over.

According to the chart, there were in excess of 128,000 Transients worldwide—the Walkers that had been reborn in a human body. The US alone accounted for 26,000 of them. Our own state had nearly 1,000 with twenty-eight in Cordell County where I lived. Thankfully, only 1% of them were Nightmares. However, that percentage had been 0.01% only six years ago; a 100% increase on an exponential curve.

I shuddered at the thought that over 1,200 freaks like the Thornhill Killer were on the loose, with more of them being born every Mist. Knowing that each of them could be as strong—maybe even more—than my Zain wiped away any hesitation I still held on to. The prospect of dealing with my Nightmare still terrified me, but I only had to remind myself that he had branded me and not harmed me.

With a newfound resolve, I headed to bed.

It was divine, the mattress swallowing me like a cloud. I’d expected to toss and turn for hours, my wretched brain torturing me with the darkest scenarios. However, the moment I rested my head on my pillows and closed my eyes, I instantly felt myself falling into a dark, endless void.

I landed with a thud on a mossy hill before rolling down the slope. Despite the impact of the fall, I hadn’t felt any pain. I came to a stop in a thick forest filled with leafless black trees with twisted limbs raised towards a dark sky in an imploring gesture. The uneven ground was covered in a slithering blanket of fog. The scent of wet dirt and rotten leaves stung my nose.

My heart nearly jumped out of my throat at the sound of a terrible roar in the distance, breaking the otherwise eerie silence. My head jerked to the right as I tried to see through the Mist limiting the range of my vision. Two large, white beams hovered almost above the tree line in the general direction from whence the roar had resonated. Paralyzed with fear, it took a moment for my brain to understand what was approaching. The Beast reared, and its giant praying mantis front limbs slashed down the trees in front of it with the ease of a scythe cutting wheat.

Its white eyes zeroed in on me. Even from the distance, and despite the Mist, I watched in horror as the facial tentacles of a Cthulhu Beast stretched in a lethal grin.

I ran.