A Sliver of Shadow Page 0,2

than the average sleeping person would normally allow, but people who are close to each other tend to form bonds…” She drew a few squiggles from my circle to the ones closest around it. “Friends and family, perhaps. Lovers.” Her eyes met mine with a hint of amusement. “TouchStones. As a Dreamer, you could follow these pathways into their dreams.”

I shuddered in distaste as visions of accidentally stumbling into Phin’s personal unicorn-porn theater crossed my mind. “And what about enemies? Could they traverse those bonds to me?”

“It is possible,” she admitted. “But that’s one of the reasons why you need more training.” She gestured at the thick iron gate surrounding my Heart. “The unwary have their own defenses built in—but Dreamers have defenses of a different sort at their disposal. The Dreaming itself can become a weapon if you know how to use it.”

“Ah. Yeah. You know, I’m not really trying for that sort of thing.” I had no desire to become any sort of neoshaman and messing with people’s dreams was tricky stuff. “I’ll stick with the blue pill, thanks.”

“Suit yourself, but you might change your mind someday. It wouldn’t hurt to at least understand the basics.” She held out a hand to help me out of the stream, and we slowly ambled in the direction of my Heart. The inner sanctum of my dreams lay behind the gate in the form of the old Victorian I’d grown up in. Brystion had told me it couldn’t be breached—as long as I stayed within its confines, I would be safe. Even from him.

I scanned the dark forest behind the house. My former lover had made good on his promise to be scarce and I’d barely seen any sign of him, short of the occasional sound of bells echoing like some distant memory through the trees. The few times we’d run across each other at the Hallows nightclub had been polite, if a bit strained. I didn’t usually hang around to listen to him sing, and he avoided flaunting whoever his latest TouchStone was to my face, a fact for which I was utterly grateful.

The whole point of TouchStones was to give OtherFolk the ability to stay in the mortal world without limitations … and to travel the CrossRoads at will, usually in return for some sort of gift. The sacred bonds between mortals and OtherFolk didn’t always involve sex, but in his case it had to. Knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less. Knowing that after six months he probably wasn’t going to come back to me hurt a lot more.

Sonja arched a brow at me and I flushed. “Have a good night. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

I waved at her, watching as she passed through the gate to fade away in a slurry of silver. I often wondered how she could manage the CrossRoads directly like that, but Brystion had the same talent.

I reached out and stroked the gate with a curious finger, the rusted metal flaking into my hand. Physics or not, it still seemed so real here. And as far as confronting my nightmares …

I glanced over at the rocky path that led to the sea. So far I’d managed to keep the worst of the memories at bay. It was chickenshit of me, but the worse the memory, the larger the shark. I wasn’t any sort of hero to go facing them down. The sharks paid no mind to my efforts. They would continue to lurk in all their sharp-toothed glory, regardless.

“Always the coward.” I rubbed my face before shutting the gate and locking it tight. I didn’t mind keeping it open when I was here, but now that I knew there were other beings actually wandering around in the Dreaming, I disliked leaving it gaping in my absence.

The fact that I might have been locking the incubus inside didn’t bother me so much. He certainly could make his own way through if he wanted to. My gaze drifted over the thick cluster of hemlock behind the garden and the heady taste of jasmine suddenly grew heavy on my tongue. I took a step toward the trees, the scent growing stronger.

Brystion.

Tempted, I gave the darkness a wry smile. “No games tonight.” And I meant it.

The one time I’d actually given in, I’d wandered for hours, emerging to find myself richer only by the number of brambles stuck in my hair. I debated mooning the woods, but in the end I merely entered the house, gently closing