Authors: Shirin Dubbin
What an amazing man she’d been blessed with. He was completely knackered, worn out from the fights, the lovemaking, dealing with her shit, astral projecting to save a family and Lord only knew what else. He desperately needed rest and still hadn’t left her side. Hadn’t complained. God love him, he’d only lost his temper once.
If they survived, she’d make loving her worth his while. She’d need to earn his love, of course, but first things first.
“
I need your help.”
She sent images of what must be done. He balked, comprehension dawning.
“No. Destroy him.”
“I won’t. I won’t eradicate another being. Not again.”
“Then I’ll end him for you,
maki die dead
. Extra dead.”
Her sharp intake of breath momentarily interrupted the song. She resumed it, mentally pleading with him.
“But I can save him, Keo. His soul at the least.”
Keoni drew a stuttering breath. Could she?
“You can save him?”
She nodded and continued to sing.
* * *
He didn’t dare believe it. Not after all these years of hoping, even praying, for a means of saving the ankou possessed.
Keoni’s lips drew into a firm line. Ironic. He had escaped the memory tortures of the Ice King only because of his fears. Pitted against the guilt dogging him since boyhood, the fear of losing Ciaran superseded all. If they lost today, so be it. It wouldn’t be because they hadn’t left their all on the battlefield. And it definitely wouldn’t be because he put the illusion of manliness before the fruition of his dreams. Save the world or die. What did manhood amount to if he couldn’t do whatever needed to be done? Even in the face of emasculation.
Great gulps of air expanded his chest. He couldn’t refuse. Not when the apocalypse threatened. Not when he was so close to saving a life rather then exterminating it. Maybe he and Ciaran couldn’t completely save the Man today, but they would figure it out. He knew it. And he wouldn’t refuse under any circumstances anyway, not when his life mate did the asking.
“Never repeat this to anyone,” he said, lacing his tone with mock grudging. “You got me?”
She shot him a brisk nod. Pride brightened her face.
Keoni roared his frustration but dipped into the nearby Dreaming anyway.
“A womb?”
“Of sorts. You’re the king of dream-made water, and I need to take him back.”
He powered up full blast. Calling on Somnian ability, he reached out and harnessed several visions drifting through the Dreaming around them: the tiny Asian woman in her third trimester, stroking her belly and reading the poems of Rumi to her unborn child; the older lady in the doctor’s office, praying this next fertility treatment would take; the wife doing the happy dance in her bathroom because her husband had gotten the job done and the home pregnancy test said yes. Keoni took these visions as his own, manifested a swirling globe of dream-made water, and infused it with each hope of motherhood.
Incredible.
Emotion overwhelmed him, and he used it, topping off the dream-womb with a rhythm as soothing as a mother’s heartbeat. Satisfied, he enveloped the dazed master ankou and lifted the creature in a swirling sphere of genesis.
Ciaran shared the full force of her gratitude and, yes, her love.
* * *
Her turn. Panic rose in her throat. Breathe. She choked on several ragged breaths. She could do this. This water was created by her man. It wouldn’t hurt her. Couldn’t drown her. Her chest heaved.
C’mon, luv,
she told herself.
No risk, no glory.
Before she could change her mind, Ciaran squared her shoulders and sang the Ice King’s song backward.
Drawing on the soul’s seven energies, she brought them, her chakras, into alignment up the center of her body. They blossomed in seven multihued blooms: red at her solar plexus for past impressions, earthly emotion in orange at her womb. Spiraling upward, the golden bloom of personal power and perseverance sprung from her belly. Followed by the emerald blossom of love and the blue of expression. Her energies pulsed, producing indigo at her third-eye, and finally one thousand violet petals of faith sprung from her crown. The power coalesced into a white light of pure truth.
The surge of kami emanated outward. Blinding in its power. The howlers had been wise to turn away. The blast transformed Ciaran into the sparrow and she flew, one goal in mind.
With each beat of her wings, she drew nearer to the Ice King and used her power to remind him. Taking him back. Back from master ankou to bane. Back to the brokenhearted man and the howler he’d made. And further and further back, until she entered the water-womb, flying straight through the Ice King, past the Beast and into the dying man at the core. Uncovering his Last Hurrah, she unfurled her wings. The force split the stolen flesh in two. It peeled away in layers, exposing the man’s spirit. He expanded and stretched, taking on a pose eerily similar to Botticelli’s
Birth of Venus
. Blood sprang from the body in two directions and flowed into a crimson river.
In the end, the Man dreamed a simple dream, one of release from the Beast devouring his soul. Ciaran returned to her human form and offered him her hand. He took it and together they turned, stepping over the remains of his ruined flesh. As always, the Dreaming had provided, and the red river served as a gateway to the Otherside—something red and something to cross over. By the time Ciaran’s second foot landed, the Man had taken the final leg of his journey alone.
She turned and began the song again; this time singing her own truth from the depths of her heart. For Keoni. She sang for him so he’d know and never doubt how far they’d both come.
Hide away so the world, it can’t see me,
Cause it’s clear now they don’t understand.
My facade’s ready made to be broken,
Maybe then you will see what I am.
Maybe then you will know who I am.
The couple closed the gap between them. Keoni feathered his fingers over her hair and face—and shared his awe in her accomplishment of such a feat.
“No Somnian has ever saved a soul trapped within an ankou. You, manu li’i, my woman, my wife, are amazing.”
He crushed her to his chest. Moments passed, interrupted by his chuckle. “You brahs on Hawaiian time?”
Confused, Ciaran pulled away just enough to tilt her head at Keoni. He nodded behind them.
The howlers opened the ring they’d formed and began to pad off in every direction.
From overhead came the raven’s caw; he descended in looping circles and alighted, soft as the proverbial feather. His wings curled around him, clothing the long-haired man in an iridescent black suit under a matte black greatcoat.
Hooves stirred the mist, echoing across the dreamscape. The palomino emerged. He tossed his mane and slowed to a trot, his hide transforming into cinnamon gold suede pants and motorcycle jacket.
Out of nowhere, the husky skidded to a halt and rose to become a man resplendent in a creamy cashmere turtleneck, gray jeans and matching snow boots.
Alexi folded his arms over his chest and arched a snow-white brow. “Uh, Keo? You’re in the Dreaming. You can put clothes on at will.”
Keoni grumbled, covering himself in a T-shirt and his favorite pair of board shorts. A match to the ones he’d given Ciaran. “If you brahs weren’t late, maybe I would’ve.”
Ciaran’s gaze darted from one Somnian to the next.
Wow.
“Keoni,” she said out of the corner of her mouth, “do you guys come in ugly?”
The man at her side stroked her back and extended a hand in the raven’s direction. “Do you even need to ask,
manu
? Look at Archer.”
They all did. Jay and Alexi both shook their heads in distaste and murmured, “Yeech.”
Ciaran tried but couldn’t hold back peals of mirth at their antics. Archer was by far the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He stepped forward and taking Ciaran’s hand placed a kiss on the back of it.
“Yes, well, we can’t all be the delicate flower Freefall is,” he intoned drily, but his gaze held a certain warmth as it lingered on her face.
Jay snorted, setting off more mirth.
“Don’t think I forgot,” Keoni said, his tone a blend of amused and dead serious. “Me and
manu
almost died. Where were you, brahs?”
Jay raised his hands in mock defense. “It was the howlers, man. They regulated on us and wouldn’t let anything through their ring.”
Keoni nodded, placated for the moment.
“I’m tellin’ you,” Jay said, “we can puff out our chests all we want, but the howlers—they’re the true Lords of the Dreaming.”
The group turned to regard the few newly dubbed Lords of the Dreaming still in sight. A smaller, darker-than-black shadow turned away from the pack and loped over to Ciaran. She lit up, recognizing the glowing yellow eyes—not quite as intense as the burning magma of the others—immediately.
“It’s my nightmare.” She fell to her knees, wrapped her arms around the black dog’s neck and grinned up at Keoni. “The one who brought you to me when I needed you!”
She hugged the animal to her, and it returned her affection in a thorough face licking. “He’s my own personal howler. He guides me,” she said to Keoni and nearly smothered the creature against her breasts.
“No. Not gonna happen. We’re not keeping him.”
Ciaran gave her man the glare. “Humph.”
Styx, Ciaran’s big black nightmare of a dog, rolled over onto his back and sought a more comfortable position at the foot of the bed. She’d considered calling him Fenrir, but naming your personal issues after the beast that swallowed the sun and kicked off Armageddon surpassed even her levels of ballsy.
If she’d gone that far, she might as well have named him Doomsday and cheered while he beat Superman to death. Ugh! Since their minds and spirits had entwined, Keo and his comic books had turned her into a geek.
Ah well.
In the end, she’d decided if she were Charon, the black dog would be her river Styx. They’d already crossed several souls over in the last week or so, and Styx had a way with children. He’d also be an asset when she started looking for other shape-shifters. She’d save those plans for later. She smiled wolfishly. They’d been kicking major bane ass. Her demon-slaying dreams had come true.
“Whachu so happy about,
ipo?
”
She threw her leg over the big man lying beside her in the bigger bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. He yawned, resting his cheek against the crown of her head.
“Where in the dreamscape were you?” she asked.
“Me, the brahs and some howlers went to see Raphael. Heh, he’s gonna need therapy.”
“Not nice, babes. Not nice at all.” She bit back a squeal of pleasure.
“Not my fault he wets the bed. And it’s a lot nicer than what I want to do to him. You want me to go visit him in person instead? Make him
maki die dead
?”
Her expression took on a sassy slant. She licked her bottom lip, peering at him through thick lashes. “I’m more concerned with what you’re going to do to me in person.”
Keoni shot Ciaran a smoldering sidelong glance and ran a hand over her thigh. She purred into the curve of his neck.
Smack!
He slapped her backside. Noisy but painless. She sat up, dislodging their sheets. He rolled out of bed and quickly donned his board shorts.
“I owe you more dirty lick’ins later, but right now the sea is calling.”
Ciaran sputtered for several seconds. “A spanking? I’m not going in for a spanking. I want some lovin’.”
Keoni shook his head. “You know I’m kidding about the lick’ins.” He tucked his surfboard—always nearby—beneath his arm and leaned over for a kiss. Pulling away far too soon, he touched his nose to hers. “Don’t give me the glare. I love you, but payback’s a bitch,
tita.
”
He spun on his heel, ran through their open patio doors and directly onto the beach. Ciaran eavesdropped on his thoughts and reveled in his pride when the sight of his homeland, sun dancing on waves, brought him up short.
“No island can match Kauai’s beauty first thing in the morning. No woman can match Ciaran.”
He had it made.
The woman in question grumbled and slumped back on the bed with a happy sigh. Styx flopped across her stomach. Minor consolation. Listening out, she caught Keoni’s parting shot on the breeze.
“Fuck me, huh?”
Ha-ha, ha-ha
. “Not today.”
For those who may not have recognized it the Ice King’s theme works well with “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls. Great song. It inspired me because I needed a love song that could be interpreted in a variety of ways both positive and negative. The actual lyrics are beautifully vulnerable when read one way and down right scary when read another.
The reason I chose a song as my villain’s catalyst at all is because some of my best and worst memories are tied to music. “Love Me Still” by Chaka Khan and Bruce Hornsby reduces me to a sobbing idiot. At one point in my life I truly wondered if those most important to me
loved me still
. On the flip side “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John transports me to Thanksgiving 2008. My mother, her dog, Kingsley, and I sang it, (yes, the dog too) full throttle, off-key, all glee, as we sped down I-95 to visit my sister. You should see the grin on my face right now. (I have a thing for grins.)
You must have those moments too. Music intimately tied to your memories. It’s why I knew you’d understand a song so immersed in emotion it represents a journey from the precipice of love to the core of vengeance. An extreme case? Oh most definitely
~S!
Dreams’ Dark Kiss Glossary of Terms:
ankou:
noun
\
ahn
-koo \
A human being who has been possessed by a
bane
(below) and utilizes nightmares to torture and/or kill.
See also:
howler
bane:
noun
\ beyn \
The tainted form of a
howler
(below), these pale shaggy beasts stalk
the Dreaming
(below) in search of victims to pervert in an effort to become
ankou
.
Ciaran
:
proper name
\KEER-en\
Wannabe demon-slayer and resourceful—
“where there’s a frying pan there’s a way”
—heroine.
chakra:
noun
\ chuhk-ruh \
One of seven points of spiritual energy down the center of the body according to yoga philosophy. Each point is related to a color, an emotion, and is visually represented by a bloom with a certain number of petals.
the Dreaming:
noun
\ dreem-eng \
The second of the two worlds forming all of existence; the Dreaming is comprised of
the dreamscape
,
the Wastelands
and
the Otherside
(all below).
the dreamscape:
noun
\ dreem-skeyp \
The plane on which the act of dreaming takes place, shared by all dreamers. See also:
the Dreaming
howler:
noun \
hou-ler \
Beneficent nightmares who help to drive human development through confrontation with fear. See also:
bane
and
ankou
Keoni:
proper name
\ Keh-oh-NEE \
In a word: Hawt! (i.e. emphatically hot).
See also: dreamy, steamy, funny and delicious.
Last Hurrah:
noun
\ lahst \ • \ huh-
rah
\
Final journey a soul takes, in the company of a psychopomp, before crossing over to
the Otherside
(below).
Libros Arcanum
:
noun
\ LEE-vros \ • \ ahr-kay-nuhm \
The great, secret library of the Dreaming; all libraries and none simultaneously. Houses the Dream Guardian Guild.
Also known as:
LibrosArc
,
Big Ass Library
psychopomp:
noun
\ sahy-koh-pomp \
Person who guides or conducts souls to
the Otherside
; e.g. Charon, Hermes.
Also known as:
soul conductor
the Otherside
: noun \ uhth-er-sahyd \
Land of the afterlife.
See also:
the Dreaming
Somnian:
noun
\ som-nee-uhn \
Evolved human being who protects mankind as they sleep.
Also known as:
dream guardian
spirit animal:
noun
\ spir-it \ • \
an
-uh-muhl \
Avatar or spiritual representation of a person’s essence, projected into
the dreamscape
via an animal form.
three realms:
colloquialism
\ three \ • \ relms\
Slang term used to reference
the dreamscape
,
the Wastelands
and
the Otherside
succinctly.
See also:
the Dreaming
two worlds:
colloquialism
\ too \ • \ wurlds\
Slang term used to reference the
Waking World
(below) and
the Dreaming
as one.
Waking World:
noun
\ weyk-eng \ • \ wurld \
World of reality.
Also known as:
waking life
the Wastelands:
noun
\ weyst-lands \
Hellish landscape between but simultaneously beneath
the dreamscape
and
the Otherside.
See also:
the Dreaming