Dream a Little Dream. Megan HartЧитать онлайн книгу.
to, if not exactly how he looked in the waking world. People who represented to assuage their vanity never gave themselves gray hair or wrinkles like the ones crinkling at the corners of his eyes now when he smiled at her. They made themselves taller, too, she thought as she eyed his height, an inch or three taller than her five foot five. “Hi. I’m Butler Meadows.”
Mariella laughed. “Oh. Okay.”
He tilted his head to look at her, eyes narrowing, but not in a mean way. More like he was used to getting that reaction. “It was my mother’s maiden name.”
“Oh,” Mariella repeated, surprised. “It’s your real name.”
“Of course it’s my real—” Butler began, but in the next moment the low, purring rumble of something curled out at them from the darkness.
Something big.
Without waiting, Butler grabbed her elbow and pushed her behind him. Mariella, taken off guard, stumbled a bit, but quickly gained her balance. She wasn’t scared, not really. If this was going to be a nightmare, it wasn’t hers but his, and she’d just been unfortunate enough to be passing by. She could make it go away, if she tried hard enough, by gathering her will and pushing and shaping. Or she could duck away and leave him to it.
It was sweet, though, how he’d tried to protect her. And he still was, standing up straight to block whatever was coming toward them. Mariella peeked over his shoulder, expecting a tiger, maybe. Or a leopard. Some sort of jungle cat to match his adventurer’s outfit. What came out of the darkness, backlit by the distant glow from the dance club she’d been trying to reach, was something else altogether.
“Holy shit,” Mariella said. “What in the holy fuck is that?”
“Monster,” Butler told her in a low voice.
She could see that, no doubt. The thing shambling from the shadows stood at least ten feet tall. Its fingertips brushed the ground, occasionally providing support to the creature as it loped along almost on all fours before standing upright again to scent the wind. Thick plated skin sloughed off as she watched, leaving behind suppurating bands of flesh. The stench was horrible. The monster glared at them from red, oozing eyes writhing with maggots, and its mouth...
“Oh, God, what a horror.” Mariella shuddered, even as she had to admire the imagination that had put that thing together. “Disgusting.”
“It feeds on the souls of the guilty,” Butler said in a dreamy, dazed voice.
“Are you going to fight it?”
He looked at her as though she’d snapped him out of his reverie. “What? Hell, no! You can’t fight that thing! If you’ve ever done anything wrong, one thing, even something minor, it will rip off your face and feast on your guts!”
Mariella could never claim not to have done anything wrong in her life, but this beast wasn’t hers. It had come from Butler’s brain, and therefore couldn’t possibly have any idea what Mariella had done or not. Still, she took a step backward.
“So...what are you going to do, Butler?”
“We run,” he said in a low voice. “I hope you can run.”
“Of course I can run.”
He glanced at her. A slow grin tipped his mouth, crinkling the corners of his eyes again. He was a lot better-looking than she’d thought upon first glance. In fact, Butler was downright handsome.
The monster dug its claws into the earth, its body hunching as the powerful legs twisted. It let out a long, purring roar that sent another blast of stink toward them. Then it launched itself toward them.
“Run!”
Mariella ran. She didn’t stop to see if Butler was following her—this was his dream, and if he got eaten by the monster, he’d wake up anyway, leaving her behind with nothing but empty space. So, why was she running?
Because, she thought with a glance behind her, when a monster chased her, even if she knew it wasn’t real, she ran.
“This way!” Butler grabbed her hand and pulled, leading her over a small, sloping hill that hadn’t been there before.
Mariella hadn’t made that hill, which meant it had come instead from Butler’s subconscious. She had time to note that as interesting before she crested the hill and started down the other side. Much steeper on this one, and jagged with rocks. She’d been barefoot while walking on the sand, but with a small shift of her will, she now wore knee-high black boots with thick, ridged soles. Instead of the white flowing gown she wore black cargo pants and a black tank top—she was now her own version of an adventurer. But Mariella also had a weapon, a serrated hunting knife in a sheath on her belt. It bounced as she ran, and she couldn’t remember shaping it into existence.
Maybe Butler had done it for her the way he’d built this hilly, rocky terrain that made it hard for them to run, but also kept the monster from catching up to them. Mariella looked at him, trying to sense if he’d added to her outfit, but there was too much going on for her to concentrate. Instead, she gave herself up to the running and the jumping, letting her body work in ways it never would in real life, no matter how many hours she spent at the gym. She let out a yell, prompting an answering screech from the monster in pursuit and earning her a startled look from Butler.
“What are you doing?”
She wanted to tell him that it would all be all right, that it was only a dream, but before she could, the terrain changed again. They’d been running toward the dance club that had been her original destination, but Butler wasn’t focusing on that place. The mountains that were always in the distance had caught his attention, and he tugged her that way. The club beckoned her, fairy lights in the sky and the beating throb of some really great techno she could feel in her pulse points even at this distance. She could duck away from Butler’s nightmare and head back to what she’d been seeking, the heat and press of flesh on hers. A hungry mouth and hands. She’d started the night wanting to get laid, not star in some B-movie scenario that looked like it could end in an explosion of severed limbs and a river of gore.
“It’s only—” Mariella began, but stopped herself as Butler slipped on a patch of pebbles and went sprawling.
A dream.
But dreams were powerful business, even if you weren’t able to shape them. Maybe particularly when you couldn’t, because being able to control the Ephemeros meant never having a nightmare you didn’t build for yourself. Butler was a dreamer, not a shaper, and the pain he’d be feeling in his scraped and bleeding palms and knees would be as real to him as anything that had ever happened.
He rolled, scrambling to his feet just as the monster leaped past Mariella and took a swipe at him. The thing’s claws shredded Butler’s shirt and caught the flesh beneath, opening it in long, thin stripes that quickly swelled with crimson. Butler ducked away from the monster’s next swing, but staggered and went down again.
“Hey!” Mariella screamed, turning the creature’s attention to her. “Hey, ugly!”
She waved her arms, dancing away so that it would follow her and not go after Butler. One problem. This was Butler’s dream, Mariella a player in it, and clearly he was meant to be the hero of his own story. The monster gave her no more than a sniffle and a glance before lunging toward Butler again. This time, the monster’s swiping claws took out a chunk of Butler’s thigh, sending him to the ground again.
She had two choices. Leave him to his battle and try to sneak in at least a dance or two before the morning came. Or, help him fight. She chose to fight.
With a simple shift of her will, a sword formed in her fist. Big enough to stab a monster in the back, it broke on the first blow, but that didn’t matter. The thing gushed black blood and reared to face her, its reaching claws snagging and tearing her clothes before she could stumble away. From behind it, Butler rose with a weapon of his own. He stabbed the monster in the side, sending another spurt of smoking blood that sizzled and dissolved the rocks beneath