Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(59)

“A penny for your thoughts, planeweaver.”

I’d been quiet too long, Kyran studying me intensely. I picked my words carefully. “Do you know if any of the nightmares left in the last few days? Or maybe . . . projected into the mortal realm, somehow?” Because that could be a possible explanation, couldn’t it?

Kyran tapped his steepled fingers together. “There are no days here. Only dreams.” He smiled his Cheshire Cat grin.

That so didn’t answer my question. Of course, he was under no obligation to answer my questions, and I’d asked him several without him asking me anything in return. I had to be careful or he might try to open a bargain in retrospect. They weren’t very binding, but I’d nearly been caught in one once before. Which meant I’d better start offering up information if I didn’t want to stumble into a debt. Not that Kyran was being horribly helpful.

Something caught at the edge of my attention, and I turned, searching the darkness. Nothing. I focused on Kyran once more, but tried to keep an eye on my peripheral vision.

“There is a new drug in Nekros. The people who take it, their fears come alive. Hallucinations given form.” I hesitated before continuing, though I was sure he guessed what I was getting at. “Maybe, their nightmares coming to life.”

“Alex.”

I froze. I’d definitely heard my name. And it wasn’t Kyran who’d said it. I twisted, glancing at the unending darkness and sand all around us. There was only the two of us.

Kyran leaned back in his throne, tapping one long finger against his jaw. “I think someone is trying to wake you. We are running out of time.”

And he hadn’t answered any of my questions.

“Alex.”

The darkness was starting to gray out. The sand under my feet fading away. Desperate, I blurted out, “Is it possible? With the help of a Faerie drug, could the nightmares cross over? Could they harm mortals if given form by glamour?”

Kyran’s form was hazy by the time he smiled, once again lifting a single shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “I think you’re looking in the wrong realm, planeweaver. Only those who are sleeping journey here. If your mortals are awake when their fears take form, you should be talking to the light court about their realm of daydreams.”

Then the gray fog thickened, becoming heavy and obscuring everything, as my consciousness returned to mortal reality.

? ? ?

I gasped, going from deep sleep to wide awake as I sat up. The covers spilled off me, and I felt the comforter against my bare thighs, the dream pants I’d conjured in the realm of nightmares having not followed me back to the waking world.

I blinked in the darkness of my room. The smallest trace of gray light peeked through my shuttered windows. Dawn was close, but it didn’t provide near enough light for my bad eyes. That didn’t matter though. I didn’t need my normal sight to make out the familiar form in my room.

Death.

“That’s an awful big frown, Al. A man might think you’re not happy to see him.”

“No, it’s not that. I—” I stopped and focused on changing my expression. And then reached out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and kissing him lightly in greeting. Because that’s what girlfriends did, right? Man, I sucked at this.

“Hi,” I said, which caused him to smile. An expression I felt against my lips rather than saw.

“Hi,” he said in return before kissing me again. A much deeper kiss than I’d greeted him with.

I tried to abandon myself to the kiss because he was Death and he was here. But the conversation I’d had with Kyran had occurred in a dream, and like most dreams, now that I was awake, it was slipping away, becoming elusive. Kyran had said something significant, right as I was waking. I had the feeling it was the most important thing he’d said—maybe the only important thing—during the entire conversation. What had it been?

“You seem distracted,” Death said, pulling back. He kept hold of one of my hands so he could sit on the bed without the mattress becoming intangible to him.

I opened my mouth to apologize but stopped. I was too fae to incur a debt for such a small thing. I couldn’t do it, even to make Death feel better. That realization hurt. And probably would have stung him as well. After all, he was the least likely person to abuse a debt between us. I covered by saying, “I was having a dream. Well, more like a meeting in a dream. I’m trying to remember what was said.”

He nodded, not saying anything, presumably giving me time to work it out. I racked my brain. What had Kyran said? Something about sleepers traveling to his realm.

But that visions seen when awake were daydreams.

The court of light.

“You thought of something?” Death asked, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles.

I nodded, but my shoulders slumped. “I apparently need to talk to someone in the light court.” And I knew absolutely nothing about that court, aside from the fact that their members glowed with an ephemeral beauty. Much more so than just the ethereal glow of the Sleagh Maith, and from what I’d seen at the Fall Equinox, the entire court held that delicate, awe-inspiring glow. They were the muses of Faerie.

Death looked around my small room. “You got rid of your houseguest?”

I nodded absently. “He’s off fighting the Winter Queen’s duels.” I frowned. “Could the light fae be involved in a drug that results in grisly murders? I mean, they thrive on daydreams. On inspiring creativity in mortals.”