"It's a shortcut through space," Liz said.
"And if I channel the energy of the consciousness, I can create one," Max explained. "After I do, I'm supposed to use it to send DuPris back to our home planet."
"There's only one problem," Michael said. "We have no idea where DuPris is. He could be anywhere. He, Isabel, and Adam could have left town. Or they could all have different faces and be hanging out at the mall."
"Did Isabel… was she okay when you saw her?" Alex asked Liz.
"Yeah. I don't think DuPris will hurt her or Adam," she told him. "It doesn't make sense-they're like his slaves. He wants them around."
"Anyone have any ideas about how to track them?" Alex asked. "Max, is that anything the collective consciousness could help with? Do they know where DuPris is?"
Max shook his head. "Today in the cave it was the first time anyone on our home planet had seen him in more than fifty years. They had no idea where he was. He's not connected to them. I don't think they have any way of sensing his movements."
"I'm almost surprised they want you to send him back," Liz said softly. She lowered her head, her hair falling forward and hiding her face. "I'm surprised they don't just want you to kill him. It seems like what they wanted in the cave."
Michael didn't think Max would have been able to live with himself if the consciousness had succeeded. If his hands had been used to kill someone, even someone as evil as DuPris, it would haunt Max every day for the rest of his life.
"Seeing him practically made them insane," Max explained. "But now…" He gave a hoarse laugh. "I don't know-I guess they cooled down. They want to put him through some kind of judgment."
"I have an idea," Maria said suddenly. She'd never rejoined the group. She stood over by the sink, twisting a dish towel in her hands. "Liz, you said that Adam came into your dream and tried to tell you who was controlling him, before he started convulsing. Anyway, it seems like DuPris figured out he had to stop Adam from, uh, making outgoing calls. But maybe he forgot that there could be incoming calls, too."
"So I should go into Isabel's dream and ask her where DuPris took her and Adam when they left the cave," Michael said, feeling a tinge of hope. "Great idea."
"Thanks," Maria mumbled, without looking at him.
"I'll try it right now. Isabel could be taking a beauty nap at any point." Michael closed his eyes and tried to let his mind go blank. Thoughts kept bombarding him. What was going to happen to Isabel and Adam if he couldn't do this? How did Max get that withered spot on his neck? Was it dangerous?
As soon as he shoved one thought away, another one replaced it. Could the wormhole take Michael back to their home planet, too? Did he want to go? Were he and Maria ever going to be able to just hang again? And what was DuPris making Isabel and Adam do right now? And-
Michael felt a light, tentative touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Maria standing next to him. "You're never going to be able to focus in here. Come on."
She turned and headed out of the kitchen. He stood up and followed her as she led the way across the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. He reached for the light switch, but Maria grabbed his hand.
"Leave it off. It will make it easier for you to relax," she said, then she seemed to realize she was still holding his hand and dropped it fast. "Now take off your shoes and lie down."
Michael kicked off his sneakers and stretched out on the bed. He felt a little of the tension ease out of him. Maria's room was one of his favorite places.
"Okay, I know you think aromatherapy is a big joke, but smell this, anyway." Maria thrust a little vial at him, and he obediently took a sniff. He would have done pretty much anything she told him to right then. She seemed a lot less freaked now that she was all caught up in her healing arts stuff-that's what she called it, healing arts-and if doing this was helping her feel less afraid, that was all he needed to know.
"Really breathe it in," Maria instructed.
The lilac scent made the inside of his nose burn, but he didn't tell her that. He just pulled in a lungful of the stuff.
"Now close your eyes," she said, her voice soft and almost musical.
It's got to work this time, Michael thought as he shut them. If it didn't, Isabel-
He felt Maria's hand smoothing out the wrinkles the thought had made in his forehead. "Focus on the lavender."
He found himself focusing more on the scent of her. Had he totally screwed things up with her? Could they ever just be couch potatoes on this bed again, watching a triple feature of old horror movies? And what was that withered spot on Max's neck?
Maria started rubbing her fingers in little circles on Michael's temples. "You can't stop thinking, can you? Okay, here's what I'll do. I'll talk to you. Listen to me instead of your thoughts," she said. "Mozart used to have his wife read to him when he was composing because it got rid of the chatter in his head and let him concentrate. If it worked for Mozart, it can work for you."
The warmth of Maria's fingers felt as if it were seeping deep into Michael's brain. He settled deeper into her bed.
"Lavender used to be my favorite color in the box of sixty-four crayons-you know, the one with the sharpener built into the side," Maria said, her voice calm and sweet. "It seemed like it could draw anything. It was the right color for everything. I drew lavender flowers and my father's lavender eyes, my mother's lavender smile. They were the same to me, mother, father, flowers. All good. All lavender. And I was lavender, too."
Michael's breathing slowed down. The thoughts that had been attacking him faded into a babble that was easier for him to ignore.
"We were made up of the same stuff," Maria continued "The boundaries warm and fuzzy. Mom was me, and I was Dad, and he was all of us and the flowers. My father used to hang the pictures I drew up on the refrigerator before he… before he left. He said I'd created a beautiful world, a beautiful lavender world."
Maria's voice faded as the spinning orbs of the dream plane became visible. He was in. He turned in a slow circle, his eyes darting over the glistening iridescent orbs as he searched for Isabel's.
He didn't see it. But that didn't mean it wasn't there. Michael began to whistle, calling to Isabel's orb. Maybe she wasn't asleep right now, although Adam had slept pretty much nonstop. Or was that even sleep? It was more like unconsciousness. Could Isabel even dream?
Adam got to Liz, he reminded himself. He continued to whistle. He'd stay in the dream plane all night if he had to. It was their only shot.
He sat down, and one of the orbs circled around his head, playfully brushing his cheek. Michael knew that orb. He'd visited it quite a few times when he was about thirteen and obsessed with Patrice Burgess, the woman who worked in the dry cleaners near foster home number whatever.
Michael nudged Patrice's dream orb away A few seconds later he felt a light brush on the back of his neck. Take the hint already, he thought. He turned to flick it off and saw Isabel's orb hovering behind him.
He held out his hands, and her orb spun into them. He peered inside and saw a blond doll in a bikini driving a little pink convertible. The car kept zooming halfway up a steep hill, then rolling back down.
Where was Isabel? He didn't see her anywhere.
Doesn't matter, he told himself. He'd just expand the dream orb, then go inside and find her. He began to whistle again, slowly moving his hands apart, urging the orb to grow.
It began to shrink instead. This had never happened before. The orb had been the size of a volleyball, and it had already shrunk down to grapefruit size. There was no way he could get inside.
"Isabel," he shouted. "Where are you?"
The doll in the convertible turned her head. It's Izzy, he thought. He should have realized it before. Isabel was dreaming she was the doll.
With a sucking sound the dream orb collapsed to the size of a baseball. Before Michael could react, it was the size of a golf ball.