Page 76 of Demon of Dreams

“The dean put me into a trance,” I said as I settled my head on a blue pillow worked with gold embroidery. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

Romero shook his head. “I don’t have nearly the power Dean Mansur does.”

“Then how am I going to fall asleep? I’m not actually tired yet.”

Romero’s forehead furrowed. “I’ll be honest, Cory. I’m not sure how this will work. I’ll be attempting a mild form of hypnotism and lucid dreaming with you. It will differ from the dean’s trance, as entry will be entirely voluntary on your part. But the goal is to guide you into contact with your subconscious, which will in turn guide you into unconsciousness. Once unconscious, you will attempt to enter someone’s dream. At that point, I won’t be able to talk to you anymore, but I’ll be in the room, ready to wake you.”

“Okay,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I really was. My chest felt like it was full of mice, scrabbling and clawing, trying to get out. But if I waited until I felt ready—well, that might never happen.

Romero asked me to close my eyes. I did, and let my hands fall to my sides as he suggested. His voice was as soothing as ever, reminding me that I chose to be here, that I was doing this to gain control. It became a drone.

He walked me through nighttime imagery, feeling the cool air, the sound of wind in the trees, the light of stars overhead. At some point, he asked me to merge with the starlight, and I felt like I was floating above Vesperwood.

But somehow, I was also floating in a sea, deep and endless, with a black sky overhead, but stars shimmering under the surface of the water. They should have been in the sky, but instead they waved and undulated like forests of kelp, or vast coral reefs of thousands—no, millions—of points of light.

I could still feel that tug in my core. It was pulling me underwater. I was scared to go under, despite the beauty of the lights. But the tug wouldn’t stop, and between one breath and the next, it yanked me under.

I coughed and spluttered as it pulled me downwards. My lungs were tight, then tighter, as I ran out of air. The tugging dragged me past hundreds of stars, swirling spirals of light along the seabed, on rocky outcroppings, or floating in the water itself.

My vision began to go black, my lungs screaming, and my heart pounded. I never should have said yes to this. I was going to die, right here and now, without ever making anything of myself. I was going to die as the fucked-up degenerate my dad had always said I was. I sighed, the last pinpricks of light disappearing from my vision. My mouth fell open, water rushed in—

And suddenly, I could see in technicolor. My whole body was lit up. Every inch of my skin felt electrified. And I could breathe. Sweet God, I could breathe again.

I looked around. What was I so afraid of before? This ocean wasn’t dangerous. It was home. It was right. And it was beautiful.

Before, the sea had been dark and dim, the lights a uniform white sparkling in the darkness. Now, they were every color imaginable, and they lit up the water with their glimmer and shine.

And the tugging—that cursed tugging in my midsection—was gone. I’d surrendered, and now I felt a peace I’d never known.

I floated for a moment, just taking in the dazzling colors and drifting currents. Reveling in the warmth of the water, which was somehow both calming and giving me goosebumps. Could yougetgoosebumps in water? I looked down at my arm to check and did a double-take.

I didn’thavean arm.

I looked left and right, up and down, everywhere I felt my body to be—but it was nowhere. Was I invisible? It didn’t make any sense.

I frowned, looking at the pebbled, jewel-like seabed beneath me. There was a rocky ledge with a swirling gold and blue star on the very edge. I flipped over, diving deep, and stretched my invisible hand out to touch the rock.

I didn’t feel anything. I knew when my fingertips should have been touching the rock, but it was as if my hand went right through. So I wasn’t just invisible, I was incorporeal.

What the hell? Was I a ghost? Did I die when I sank under the water after all?

My invisible heart thumped in my non-existent chest. How would I know if I’d died? What if I were lying back there on Romero’s couch in the real world, cold and gray, and Romero was freaking out, trying to revive me?

A worse thought occurred to me. What if Romero hadn’t even realized I was dead? He’d said he’d never worked with an incubus before. What if he thought looking dead to the world was normal?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I looked around in a panic. What could I do? I had to get out of here. Maybe if I swam up to the surface, I’d see some way back? I nodded—as much as it was possible to nod without a neck—and pushed off the rock ledge with my foot.

My toe swept through something weird. A patch of water that felt hot and tingly. I looked down at the place my foot should have been and saw that swirling blue and gold star spinning faster than before.

It was getting bigger. Or maybe it was getting closer. Or I was getting closer to it. It grew and grew, and I felt my essence flowing down into the vortex of the star. I kicked frantically, trying to pull free, but it was a maelstrom. The star grew larger still, and I fell deeper into it, submerged up to my knees, then waist, then chest.

I tilted my chin up when the star reached my neck. Was it possible to drown twice? It was my last thought as the rays of the star swirled around my face and closed over my head, encasing me in a tornado of blue and gold.

17

CORY

Suddenly, my feet touched something solid. Wood, old and polished from use. I could feel it under my toes.

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