Dreamfever
Page 107

It “herded” me for several hours. The terrain changed drastically. The forest thickened, the riverbank fell away, and by the time the monster finally let me stop, I was high on top of a sheer rocky cliff that dropped sharply, well over a hundred feet, to white-capped rapids below. The river no longer tumbled; it roared and crashed, filling the gorge with soft thunder.
I stretched out in a sunny patch on the bank and ate half of my last protein bar. I considered getting up and trying to explore, but I wasn’t sure the monster would permit it.
It sniffed the ground around me for a moment, then stalked downstream and sprawled sleek and deadly on the ground. I guessed it was tired from so much killing.
Feeling a little desperate for the sound of a voice, I talked to it. I told it stories about growing up in the South. I told it about all the fine plans I’d had for my life.
I told it how everything had gone so damned wrong and I’d begun losing one thing after another. I told it about the hell of losing my mind and will to the Unseelie Princes and about Barrons bringing me back. I even told it about my recent trip home to Ashford with V’lane, and what I’d learned there, and that I’d begun to fear there might actually be something wrong with me. I told it things I would never have told a sentient being, baring my deepest feelings and worries. It was cathartic to get it all off my chest, even to a dumb beast.
I dozed, too, and woke about a half hour before the sun plummeted to the horizon, cloaking the forest in night.
The monster rose on all fours, stalked over, urinated around me, and melted into the blackness, black on black, with crimson eyes.
I’d been “tucked in” for the night.
I woke several times, startled by one sound or another. Once I ascertained that nothing was lurking beyond my circle, I fell back asleep again.
Near dawn, I was awakened by a storm in the distance, moving closer.
A hundred feet below me, the river swelled to a deafening crescendo of rapids crashing against the sheer walls of the rocky gorge.
The sky crackled with lightning. Thunder rolled, and I braced myself for a drenching, but the storm stayed on the opposite side of the river and passed me by.
It was a violent squall. Thunder cracked and crashed continuously, punctuated by a weird popping, like automatic gunfire. Trees bent low. Rain fell in sheets, soaking the far side of the river. I was grateful I’d been spared.
Finally the storm blew itself out, and I slept.
I wakened to a hand clamped tightly over my mouth and the crushing weight of a body on top of mine.
I fought like a wild thing, punching, kicking, trying to bite.
“Easy, Mac,” a voice whispered roughly against my ear. “Be still.”
My eyes flared. I knew that voice. It was Ryodan. But I’d been expecting Barrons!
“I’ve come to get you out of here, but you must do exactly as I say.”
I was nodding before he’d even finished speaking.
“It’s imperative you make no noise. Whisper when you speak.”
I nodded again.
He drew back and looked at me. “Where’s … the creature?”
“The IYD one?”
He gave me a look but nodded.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it since last night.”
“Get your things and hurry. We don’t have much time. Darroc’s here, too.”
“Are you kidding me? How the hell does everyone find me?” What was I, a big red X?
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “Speak softly.” He raised the weight of his body from mine, flipped me onto my stomach, and began searching through my hair. “Hold still. Ah, fuck.”
“What?” It came out as a low growl.
“Darroc marked you. He must have done it while the princes had you.”
“He tattooed me?”
“Right next to Barrons’ mark. I can’t remove it here. Come.”
I rolled over, scrubbing angrily at my scalp. “Where are we going?”
“Not far from here is a—what did Barrons say you call them?—IFP. It will take us to another world, where there’s a dolmen to Ireland.”
“I thought Cruce’s curse corrupted everything.”
“The Silvers change. IFPs don’t. They’re static microcosms.”
He grabbed me beneath my armpits, stood up, taking me with him, and set me on my feet.
I clutched his arm. “My parents?”
“I don’t know. I came in after you at LaRuhe.”
“Barrons?”
“He was trying to get to Ashford, to go after Darroc. I was the only one able to get in before the tunnel collapsed on our end. It took me a while to find you. I found this, too.” He tossed my backpack at me. “Your spear’s inside.”
I could have kissed him! I grabbed my pack and swiftly consolidated possessions, then yanked out my spear and caressed it. Holding it in my hand made me feel like a Travis Tritt song—ten feet tall and bulletproof.
“The creature will attack anything in your vicinity. At the moment, that’s me. I can get you out. It can’t. It only kills. Remember that.”
Ryodan took my hand and led me close to the river, much nearer the sheer drop of the gorge than I was comfortable with, but I understood why he did it. The crushed-shale edge was soft as sand and made no noise beneath our feet. I looked up at him.
“How did you track me? Do you have a mark on me, too?” I whispered.
“I can follow Barrons’ mark. Another word and you’re going over the edge.”