Call Down the Hawk (Dreamer, #1)(122)

You are made of dreams and this world is not for you.

He would not let the nightwash take him and Matthew.

He would not let this world kill him slowly.

He deserved a place here, too.

He woke.

Ronan saw himself from above. Strangely lit. Brightly lit. Hennessy lay opposite him, also motionless. A sword lay on each of their chests, a matching pair. Ronan’s hands were clasped over the hilt that read VEXED TO NIGHTMARE and Hennessy’s over a hilt that read FROM CHAOS. Both were sheathed in dark leather.

She’d done it.

They’d done it.

They’d held the Lace at bay, Hennessy had manifested something other than herself in the dream, and she’d come back to waking neither bleeding nor with a copy of herself. There was still a gap at her tattoo where another rose could fit.

Ronan heard voices; shouting.

This was wrong.

The lights striping across them were wrong. Headlights, or flashlights.

Move, he told his body.

But his body could not be hurried.

If those dreamkillers had tracked them here somehow, and if they found them before the paralysis wore off, it wouldn’t matter if these swords performed as they did in the dream. They’d be shot where they lay.

Move, he told his body.

It was nowhere near movement. He was still looking at himself from above.

“Over here!” shouted one of the voices, drawing nearer to the observation deck.

No.

Now he could hear trees rustling, leaves being kicked up, boots on gravel. They were coming down to the viewing area. There’d be no time for negotiation, for threat, for anything but dying.

“Don’t come any closer,” said a very familiar voice.

It was calm, level, infinitely less surreal when spoken into a walking space instead of into Ronan’s dreams.

The speaker was not visible from Ronan’s limited vantage point, but Ronan knew who it was regardless.

Bryde.

“I suggest you stop right there, or I will be forced to detonate my weapon,” Bryde said calmly. Nearby. Just out of sight. Ronan could only stare at himself and Hennessy from above.

“Show yourself!” called a rough voice.

Bryde, if anything, sounded amused. “I’d rather not. Let’s have a bit more room. And in front, please put your guns down. This is uncivilized.”

Finally, Ronan was getting a glimpse of the black sky above. He was returning to his body.

“Who are you?” demanded one of the other voices farther up the path.

“You already know me as Bryde.”

“What do you want?”

“How about a conversation,” Bryde said, “before you rush in here and shoot any more people in the head.”

Ronan could move. Finally. He said, “I’m sitting up.”

“Do you hear that?” Bryde called. “They’re sitting up. Don’t anyone do anything stupid. Like I said, let’s not drive me to a massacre.”

Ronan and Hennessy looked up the path. There were dozens of people. Probably sixty. Some of them were dressed in normal clothing, but plenty more were in uniform. Bulletproof vests.

Ronan squinted in the direction of Bryde’s voice. He saw a figure among the trees, eyes glinting, cast in darkness. He could feel his pulse racing.

One of the dreamkillers shouted, “What do you want?”

“Why are you trying to kill us?”

“Not trying,” Hennessy said. “Why are you killing us? You killed my entire family. We weren’t doing shit to you.”

“We have it on very good authority that one of you Zeds is going to end the world,” rumbled one of the members of the party. “It’s not personal. That’s simply too much power for one person.”

“What kind of authority?” sneered Ronan.

“Good,” said the voice. “I thought I said that before.”

“So you just want us to die?” Hennessy demanded.

“Or stop dreaming,” suggested another one of the party.

Bryde broke in gently, “That’s a little facetious, don’t you think? We all know by now that dreamers must dream. So that’s not truly a bargain any of you or us could strike. That’s a thing you offer so that you can sleep at night. That’s the story you tell your children when you call them. That’s not a thing you tell another adult with a straight face.”

“My girls were just trying to survive,” said Hennessy. “You killed them for nothing. For nothing.”

“Look,” said a quiet voice. It belonged to a woman with dark hair and a very clean linen suit. “Maybe we can work with you if you give yourselves up. Do you want to work with us?”

“Carmen,” said the rumbly voice. “That’s not …”

“No,” Hennessy said. “You gunned down my family. How about you just leave us alone and we leave you alone? Like you would anyone else in this country?”

“You’re not anyone else,” said the rumbly voice.

In a low voice, Bryde said to Ronan and Hennessy, “This isn’t a negotiation, it’s stalling. We’re about to be shot at with some very large weapons. I told you what it meant if you called me.”

“More hiding,” Ronan said.

“Running and hiding are two different things.”