Darkness Falls: Reveler Series 1 (3 page)

She ran toward the sound of tears, only for the cries to bounce in another direction like a thrown voice. Empty shadows pulsed with the red-blue whirl of an ambulance light. The atmosphere was rough, chafing her skin like sandpaper as she drove forward in her panic. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were on fire from her breathless run.

Ahead of her a red door appeared—home!—the front door to their old house before that really bad day. The worst day. Maybe her little sis was at home. Please God, let her be here.

Jordan reached out, reached as far as she could, reached for the only family she had left. She gripped the knob and burst inside, yelling, “Maisie!”

***

Rook wheeled around at the deep, gut-wrenching sound of panic. He knew that sound well; it echoed around his own hollow chest. Loss and loneliness.

Onto the midnight beach of the Rêve’s dream island a woman emerged, frantic with worry, and yet also luminous with pulsing feminine energy. The powdery sand lifted with each of her steps and was slow to settle again.

I’ll be damned.

Seemed Mr. Millions had picked the right sister after all.

And not only was she the first of the newbies, she was the second after him to enter the Rêve space, and he’d been plugged into shared dreaming since it was the illegal and preferred high on the street. Who wanted to live in the real world when a better one waited behind closed eyes? Of course, the dreams he’d shared back then had been much darker, some black enough that a mind never got clean. All these years later, the grit still clung to the walls inside his skull.

From the shadows of the jungle tree line he watched her acclimate.

Her energy settled into a low, sensual simmer as her gaze darted over the setting: the pristine, powder beach, empty but for her, with its rushing waves and an ocean as full of stars as the sky above. She stared briefly at the way the water struck out into dreamspace and flowed like an infinity pool into nothingness. The sense of vastness was part of the experience—proof that this was indeed located beyond anything where physics dominated. Her mouth parted when she got a load of the volcano, lazily erupting ruby lava. No danger there. And then her gaze scraped across the beach and settled on him.

Beautiful woman in a dream? The body ache that rushed him was natural, blood chug-chugging south. He’d be rock hard in the real world, where he slept. Luckily, in dreams he had more control.

Similarly, a forced composure came over her—the one that had fooled him into thinking it was her true nature. Turned out she was something else entirely, all her electricity condensed into the form of a beautiful woman. Nevertheless, it was there, zapping just under the surface.

She’d spotted him effortlessly.

Coll would say he was losing his touch, the hunter caught. But Rook was intrigued. He hadn’t been surprised in a good way in so long.

Her eyes narrowed—angry?—and he tried not to laugh as she strode fluidly toward him in spite of her high heels digging into the sand, all the normal, subtle hitches smoothed from her stride by the dream.

“Where is everyone else?” Her voice had the Rêve’s bell clarity over the rush and hiss of the waves on the shore and the
boom-boom-boom
of the dance music from deep within the jungle.

This close, he could enjoy her wide-set eyes, silver in the moonlight, like light on water. Her face cut in smooth and delicate planes, accented by the tip of her nose and a lush, full mouth. God, her mouth. She was long-limbed, like a dancer, but her figure flared in all the right places.

Maybe he should’ve shaved, like Coll had suggested. She was too…
graceful
to go for him.

Didn’t matter anyway. Chimera had rules about fraternizing with marks, though the organization turned a blind eye where other agents were concerned. The dream medium was inherently sexual.

Point was, he couldn’t touch her, but it was good to feel human again.

“Well done, you.” He raised his hands and applauded, and he meant it. “That was a very fast entry. Really. Not everyone can do it, even those with experience.” For example, no Mr. Millions yet, which meant her natural aptitude was greater than Millions’s clearly amateur skills.

“The others?” she demanded.

She meant her sister, Wild Child. “The others are most likely pondering their doors, trying to remember where they lead or how a doorknob works. A few people always bug out at the last second, scared they’ll arrive naked or something.”

Her nostrils flared for a sec. “So we wait?”

“We could dance.” The beat of the music beckoned. “We could fly.” And then there were other activities. For example, he was very curious to discover what Big Sis could do here, would dare to do here, if she let go.

He needed to feel the awe of Rêve again, needed to remember what it was like to wonder—and she had the perfect combination of freshness and natural ability.

Would she share?

A shift in his senses, and he looked up, beyond Big Sis.

Another
Envoi
guest arrived on the beach, one of the experienced Revelers, a sad sack of a man with a worn look, stumbling into the moonlight. To enter the Rêve this quickly, he had to have a reasonable degree of both punch and skill. In the early days, someone might have recruited him. But not now; he was clearly an addict, living in dreams more than the real world, his life reduced to glimpses of fantasy.

Proof positive: the man’s appearance altered—his expression smoothed, shoulders loosened. Since Rêve was artificial, most people arrived in the clothing they wore when they were put to sleep—like Big Sis and her classic black dress. It took skill to consciously alter your appearance, and more to hold it for the duration. This sad sack guy gained some faux muscle, lost the paunch in his belly, and erased a decade from his face. Yeah, he had some control, but one look at his stressed pre-Rêve self, and it was clear that the dream controlled him right back.

Not that Rook could judge. Even here, in this cheesy predesigned place—

A mere thought, and the darkness in the trees suddenly gathered into a dense wave, a weight that threatened to smother him. Breathing became difficult; good thing he didn’t need oxygen here.
His monster hadn’t taken long to find him, like a shadow tied to its master. It was always there, waiting for a moment of weakness.

Shit.

Danger worked differently in dreams—sometimes, if he didn’t look at the nightmares, they couldn’t see him, either. A kid’s game, obviously, but then children had to have learned it from somewhere.

He gritted his teeth and concentrated on his mark. She was the one he wanted. “What’s your name?”

It’s not there. Not there. Not there.

She’d turned to look at the sad sack newcomer, too—had to have
sensed
him since he was behind her—and had taken a backward step toward Rook.

“Jordan,” she mumbled. “Nice to meet you.”

She was the real deal, all right. Twitchy, but if she’d come this far, she’d just have to be brave enough to go deeper. No going back.

What nightmares would
she
waken?

Didn’t matter to him. Couldn’t. He had a job to do.

He moved to her side so that he could talk to her without blocking her view—God forbid he should get in the way of her watching for her sister.

“Nice to meet you too, Jordan. I’m—” What was his fake name again?

She wasn’t listening anyway. Her attention was completely absorbed, but not by the surreal starry landscape or the tropical jungle behind him. Now Jordan was looking around
before
each new
Envoi
guest broke through the Rêve barrier, anticipating each eruption, though they came from all directions onto the beach.

Coll was going to wet his pants.

Rook smiled as charmingly as he could. “I’ll bet there’s a bar on the other side of the trees. Can I buy you a drink?”

She didn’t bother to turn her head, but her gaze slid over, a brow lifting at the irony of his offer.

Old, tired joke. Money didn’t matter here—not yet—and there were no real drinks to be had. The Rêve high was in the euphoria that came from pure creation, being liberated from the restrictions of the rules. For those in pain, release.

There were lows too, which was what Coll had led with when he’d originally scouted him from that filthy deserted warehouse where he’d been crashing with a bunch of other runaways.

Jordan suddenly smiled, so bright with emotion that it was near blinding to someone with darksight like him. The feeling was direct from her heart, intensified by the dream. He’d bet her sister was on the brink of arriving.

A Technicolor flash, and sure enough, Wild Child broke through the Rêve barrier.

Arms out, Jordan ran toward her and they met in a movie-style hug. The dream cheesing it up again? Or were they for real?

“I couldn’t grab the doorknob,” Wild Child said, pulling back. “It kept moving every time I reached for it.”

Jordan laughed out loud. “I couldn’t even find the door! I was searching and searching, but it was nowhere.”

Rook was pretty damn sure that Jordan had opened the door as soon as it appeared. She must’ve been looking for something else.

“Oh my God! Will you
look
at this place!” Wild Child was gawking at the starry infinity drop.

Rook was more overwhelmed by Jordan.

She’d put a protective arm around her sister’s shoulders and was keeping her close, as if at any moment a tiger would leap out of the dark, and she would fight it single-handedly, putting her sister behind her.

He felt himself grow darker in comparison, his chest tightening with shame.

The woman deserved a good life, not one filled with nightmare after nightmare.

And yet, it was too late. Even now she was changing, and it couldn’t be undone. And if he’d scouted her, and Mr. Millions had scouted her, then the gamers on the
Envoi
who were behind the beach Rêve had, as well.

She wouldn’t last a week before she disappeared from her life. It was her own damn fault. Her instincts had said
no
—he’d caught that much from her nervous questions on the water taxi. She should’ve listened to them. Instinct was everything where Rêve was concerned.

“I want to dance!” Wild Child was trying to drag Jordan toward the tall, dark trees, where deep within, the club music pounded.

Jordan held back and kept her sister close. “Is it safe?”

Wild Child pulled out of her grasp, singing, “Safe and legal!” as she dove by him and into darkness.

Jordan looked like she was about to follow, but Mr. Millions suddenly appeared on the beach behind her. By her shoulders he turned her around—Rook took an angry step forward into starlight and watched as the man kissed her full on the mouth.

Son of a bitch.
This guy had to go, and Rook was just the one to boot him out into the void. The couple broke apart—shock on both their faces. Rook was sure Millions’s was fake. Interesting hunting technique, however.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he babbled. “Must be the dream. Not that I didn’t want to kiss you. I did, which is probably why it happened.”

Millions knew exactly what he was doing.

Jordan was shaking her head, basically saying it was okay. She was too damn trusting. She’d soon learn that the Rêve—pretty vacation beaches, gaming mazes, or even army war simulations—was full of liars. Rêve was
made
for liars.

“No no. It’s fine,” she said. “You just surprised me is all.”

“Surprised myself.” Millions did some bashful, aw-shucks crap, hand to the back of his neck. Might as well find an excuse to take off his shirt.

“Well, the place is surreal.” Jordan shrugged a little, bashful herself. “Interesting things are bound to happen.”

She
liked
him? It was the money, had to be.

Rook stepped back into the trees to watch.

The talent was there, but somebody had to clue her in fast that Rêve was the new hunting ground for predators who could do freaky shit for which there was no earthly explanation.

Rook was one of them, both by nature and by training.

“Hi,” said a female voice off to his right. The blonde from
Envoi
.

Rook set his teeth.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” She was looking for a fantasy hookup.

“No.” He was working.

He cast his gaze to the tacky sparkly steam far off to the right, where lava from the volcano met the water. He felt rather volcanic inside himself.

Gaze distracted, he sought through the miasma of energy for the concentration of intelligence that was Jordan. He touched her dream to get a taste of her distinctive essence, like a dog scenting before the hunt. A fingerprint. A hint of her soul.

Marked.

If she had never entered the Rêve, he’d never have been able to find her.

And now he always would.

***

Jordan whipped around to glare at the guy in the trees. What was his name again?