She spoke lightly, but there was a sly undertone there. Having her sex life brought up in public made Maddie blush. Seth had shifted uncomfortably, but the reason was unclear. Simone’s fingers? The mention of sex? Maybe both. Simone removed her hand, seeming innocent to all the world, except Seth and me.
Maddie seemed eager to change the subject from the romantic goings-on of a honeymoon. “I think you should at least pick the cake flavor,” she said. “I’m choosing so much else.”
“I don’t know,” said Seth. He still seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t care if you do it.”
“Yeah, but she wants you to,” said Simone. “Come on, make one firm decision here. You can’t go wrong. Maddie’ll eat anything you pick.”
Loaded statement. Neither Seth nor Maddie acted as though they read anything into it, but I had a feeling Simone had intended it as a reference to Maddie’s very buxom figure.
“Exactly,” said Maddie. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
“I bet I can guess,” said Simone. “Chocolate.”
“Strawberry,” said Maddie.
Losers. It was vanilla.
“Vanilla,” said Seth.
Maddie groaned. “Naturally. Well, there’s one decision made.” She rose from the table. “Let’s try a few other places and get the rest of this taken care of. Not much left after this.” They reached the door, and Maddie stopped to glance at Simone. “Oh, hey. Will you do me a favor? Will you take Seth tux shopping?”
“What?” asked Seth. No neutral face now. He was shocked.
Maddie grinned. “If you don’t have a keeper, you’ll show up at the church in a Billy Idol T-shirt. And it’s bad luck if I go with you.”
“I thought that was just for the bride,” said Seth.
“I want to be surprised,” Maddie countered.
“Of course I’ll go,” said Simone, putting her arm around Seth again in that “friendly” way.
Maddie beamed, and the bakery faded away……transforming into Erik’s store.
Erik sat at a small table with Jerome and Roman, and—so help me—they were drinking tea. Even Jerome. Roman was visible, which made me think Jerome must have decided they no longer needed to fear the eyes of higher powers who might wonder why my “human” roommate kept tagging along with Seattle’s archdemon.
Erik was tapping his tea cup thoughtfully. “If your theory is right, it would explain a lot.” These words were directed at Roman. “The dream quality of the visions. Mr. Jerome’s complete inability to find her.”
Jerome’s slightly arched eyebrow was the only indication of his displeasure over the word “inability.”
Erik continued, eyes on his cup as he pondered it all. “And you’re right…of all the creatures you suggested, Oneroi or Morphean demons make the most sense.”
Oh! I thought in triumph to the Oneroi. How do you like that, bitches? My friends are on to you. No response came. No dissolving of the dream, as I would have expected.
“But why her?” asked Roman irritably. I had a feeling he’d taken credit for the dream idea, shielding Dante from Jerome’s wrath. “Why a succubus? Don’t they only care about human dreams?”
“They’re tied to Nyx,” pointed out Erik. Oh, yes. My friends were smart. Smarter than Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys put together. Maybe even Matlock too.
“The ‘why’ is irrelevant,” said Jerome, speaking at last. “Whether it’s Oneroi or Morpheans is also irrelevant. If something’s taken her to the world of dreams, she’s completely inaccessible.”
Roman frowned. “Why? Can’t you just go in there and pull her out now that you know?”
Jerome gave his son a smile that almost, almost seemed genuinely amused. “You’re half-human, and it shows. Greater immortals can’t go there. We don’t dream. Only humans do. The way is barred to us.”
“Because you have no hopes or imaginings of what might be,” said Erik. His manner and tone clearly indicated he believed such a thing to be a failing for angels and demons. “You need a soul to dream.”
“Well, if I’m half-human, then I’ll go there,” said Roman obstinately, cutting off any retort Jerome might have given. “I dream. So I can enter, right? And I can take on whatever’s there.” There was so much determination in his voice that I half believed he could take on an army of Oneroi right now.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Jerome. “Clearly. Do you have any idea what the dream world is like?”
“Do you?” asked Roman dryly. “I thought you couldn’t go there.”
“Dreams are what fuel human existence. Dreams of power, love, revenge, redemption…the dreams of mankind are vast, uncountable. Humans dream both waking and asleep. Those hopes and fears are what put them at risk—they gamble their lives and souls on dreams. You go into the world of dreams, and it’s like stepping into a blizzard. Every snowflake is some human imagining flitting by so quickly, you can’t even see it. All you see is a blur, a tangle of longings and chaos. If Georgina is there, she is one of those snowflakes. You would never find her soul.”
Heavy silence fell.
Finally, Roman said, “That was like poetry, Dad.”
“But he’s correct,” Erik told Roman.
More silence.
Roman glanced between the two of them incredulously. “So that’s it? It’s hopeless? You’re giving up without even trying to find her?”
“Trying is hopeless,” said Jerome. Demons might not dream the way humans did, but I suspected even he could picture what his superiors would do when they found out he’d lost a succubus. “Human magic could access the world of dreams, but it’d do no good.” He glanced at Erik, who nodded.
“Someone lost among all that couldn’t be called back. Not even the strongest ritual could do it. Her soul would never hear anything we could muster.”
Roman’s face was a mixture of emotions. Anger. Disbelief. And…resignation. That didn’t surprise me. Jerome’s face did, however. He had stiffened at Erik’s words, a spark of insight flashing in those cold, dark eyes.
“But you could do the ritual, correct?” he asked Erik. “You’re human. You’re strong enough to open the way.”
Erik eyed him warily. “Yes…but by your own admission, it would achieve nothing. The connection you had to her was theoretically strong enough to possibly summon her back, but you can’t enter. All we’d have is a useless doorway.”
Jerome stood up abruptly. He glanced at Roman. “Find your own way home.” The demon vanished with a showy poof of smoke.
And I vanished back into the Oneroi’s prison. They stood there in the dark, glowing from what they’d taken from me. In dreams, though I suffered, I never felt the horrific effects they caused until I returned from them. That was when the agony, energy loss, and confusion hit me. Yet, this time, I wasn’t completely lost to despair.
“You were wrong,” I said. I tried to put some smugness in my voice, but it came out hoarse from my exhaustion. Good God. I was so, so tired. I guess dreaming didn’t necessarily mean sleeping. “My friends have figured it out. They know where I am.”
As always, One and Two were nearly impossible to read. “What makes you think that was a true dream?”
Excellent question. “Gut instinct,” I said.
“You believe you can trust it?” asked One. “After all this time? After so many dreams? How can you tell what’s real and unreal?”
I couldn’t. I knew when the memories were true—for now—but the “real world” scenes were harder. Maybe it wasn’t my gut so much as my blind optimism that believed what I’d just seen was real.
Two guessed my thoughts. “You hope. And we’ve fed that hope, making you think you have a chance. So you will wait. And wait. And wait.”
“It was real,” I said firmly, as though that would make it so.
“Even if it was,” said One, “it meant nothing. You saw for yourself. There is no way to bring you back.”
“Maybe that was the lie,” I said. “Maybe the rest was true. You mixed it. They figured out where I was, but you didn’t show me the part where they learned how to rescue me. They’re going to do that ritual.”