Page 140 of Gates of Tartarus

Dream Incubation

Thursday, 6 December – Maela

We are fukkited. Kronos definitely knows what I can do. Somehow, they’ve found out. So, either Elizabeth accidently let something slip, which doesn’t seem likely, or Magda’s been remote spying on us, which doesn’t seem likely. But the US team overheard Tennireef refer to “that red-head dropping in at all hours,” and it didn’t take a PhD to work out that he was talking about me. Maddox called to give Seef the cheery news right before I turned in last night. I’d had a frustrating day already. I’d barely had time to twinkle at Emlyn when he came into the kitchen before Seef launched into a great big hoo-ha about our wisp of a theory that Kronos could have learned about psychic abilities and how to block or enhance them. Emlyn, whose eyes had smoldered silver when he saw me, immediately looked concerned and decided we needed to trawl through the Babylon archives for information. Now, I like a good research project as much as the next girl and the scholar in me was itching to have at the files, but I still wanted my afterglow. Was five minutes really too much to ask before the “work of a nation” and all that? We spent the whole day reading and reviewing case studies. But so little is known about telesthesia that we cannot say for certain, one way or the other, and I hate being in the position of having a theory and not being able to prove it.

To my credit, when Seef told me, I didn’t cry; after shrieking “what!” I pulled up my big girl pants, nodded, and said, “yup” to his assertion that everything would be OK. Then I shut my bedroom door and went through the motions of brushing my teeth and putting on my pajamas like an automaton. The only thing I could think to do now was to try dream incubation again. It was either setting my mind to “Rhea” and hoping for the best or imagining being tortured by the mafia. Dream incubation hadn’t worked so far; since I started channeling visions during the day, my dreams had been run-of-the-mill – the classic “get to work and realize you have no clothes on” – but right at that moment, I didn’t have any other options. So, I dutifully reread of few pages ofBullfinch’s Mythology(Rhea is a primordial goddess, queen of the Titans, sister and wife to Kronos, mother of the Olympians); and looked at my visual aid: the outline of a woman’s face, with a question mark in the middle. Then I closed my eyes and chanted “Rhea”, holding on like a life-line to the image of a blank face being gradually filled in, until I fell asleep.

Well, that was a massive waste of time. My head feels heavy when I wake up this morning, like I’ve been swimming through syrup, and I’ve got a crick in my neck and, I wince, in my shoulder. I haven’t slept well, my dreams weird and tangled, and I must have been thrashing about at some point. I remember in the last sequence that I was walking down a deserted city street, the sky eclipsed by lowering clouds. When it started to rain, I turned to see an old Victorian railway tunnel, with a sign for “Apartment 1c” overhead. I walked into the tunnel to get out of the wet, but, once inside, found myself surrounded by darkness, so thick and velvety I decided I could part it with my hands. So I did. I put my hands in front of me, as if I were doing the breaststroke, and pushed the darkness open like curtains. A voice called out, “Hello, hello!” I looked up, and there in front of me was a cheerful young man wearing, I blinked, a jaunty cap and nothing else. He was completely starkers and proud of it, posing like a gladiator, staff in hand. Which was topped by intertwined snakes. “Hermes?” I said weakly. “The same!” he replied. “Come in, come in!” When he waved the staff around, the snakes flew off it and hit me in the chest before slithering down to my feet. I squawked and began kicking my legs, trying to shake them off. “Whoops! My bad,” Hermes said. While I hopped about, the tunnel began to go fuzzy, like static given form. Soon, it was nothing but white noise, and I couldn’t see, couldn’t scream, could only turn endlessly in the nothingness. Then I woke up.

So, it’s official: dream incubation is bonkers, and all I can say is that I want a little bit of whatever the Ancient Greeks were smoking. Or drinking. Just now, I’m not fussy. A nicePramnianmaybe? Although, that’s gone extinct now, hasn’t it? But oregano, the “splendor of the mountains”, encourages psychic dreams, doesn’t it? And I can certainly get a hold of that. I just need to wear a few sprigs on my head when I sleep, and then it’ll be all “In Xanadu did Kubla Khan…”

Alright, Maela: Focus! Incubation might be pants, but I need to record the dream in my journal. You never know what will help, and I can scroll through theOneirocriticalater. I sit up, turning on the bedside lamp, and grab the pretty, flower-flecked notebook and a pen off the table, yawning as I write. What a weird dream. I’m not even going to begin to guess what it meant until I’ve had a coffee… OK, OK, so: cloudy, rainy, Victorian – London. Hermes – messenger god. Delightfully buff, but I’m scared of his snakes –my subconscious is telling me that I love having three boyfriends but am still uncertain how our set-up will work. Duh. White noise – I haven’t figured things out yet. Double duh. Here, I pause, biting my bottom lip. I’ve slept with Jorge and Emlyn, and we can consider the pact effectively exploded. I mean, gentlemanly idea and all, but the guys really should have talked about it with me first. But now, what am I going to do about Kavi? I mean, I know what Iwantto do, but how am I going to go about broaching the subject? I don’t want to make him feel like he’s third best, but then someone would always have ended up in that position, unless we’d started off with a foursome, and… oh bugger! I haven’t even had a chance to talk with Jorge or Emlyn – things have been so busy – and anyway, what would I say?Hi! That was fun! Let’s do it again real soon! Just need to fit you in around my other boyfriends. What’s the etiquette here?

“Any advice, Mr. Millefeuille,” I sigh, turning to the cuddly teddy bear, who’s watching me from the armchair. “I mean, do we even need to talk? We’re all responsible adults, of sound mind and body, etc.” I make a sweeping gesture with my hands. “I’m on birth control, and I know the guys have been to the clinic because I overheard Emlyn reminding the others about their appointments when I was coming back to the conservatory the one day to look for my Kindle. Remember: the morning I got the booster? And they looked slightly embarrassed, but I pretended not to notice anything, and I was so happy, but then Kavi told me about the pact and… God, what am I supposed to say to Kavi? Sidling up to him after dinner and saying ‘Good news! I’ve slept with Jorge and Emlyn, so let’s get it on!’ is hardly romantic. That’s not exactly going to put him in the mood…” I worry at my fingernail. “Hey, you know what? Things happened naturally with both Jorge and Emlyn. We didn’t have to sit down and have a long disquisition on the nature of existence. So there’s no need to overthink things with Kavi, right?”

“You mean, like you’re doing now?” my faithful companion observes.

I scowl: “Touché! I’m going to go with the flow. Here I am, fretting away like a wooly old ewe, and downstairs I havethreeboyfriends waiting for me with coffee and jammy toast. So I just need tochillax. Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill! It’s a-a-a-a-a-ll good, and things will happen when they happen. No need to introduce an elephant into the room, for God’s sake! Although, speaking of elephants, Kavi’s trunk looks promising, doesn’t it?” I waggle my eyebrows merrily at the bear, and I swear I can see his little button eyes roll back in his head, as I snuggle contentedly into the pillows and indulge in a pleasant little fantasy which I hope will soon come true.

Through the Mirror

Thursday, 6 December – Kailani

The ride to the ferry last night was silent and uncomfortable. Smith kept looking over at me, words locked inside his mouth. I heard him inhale several times, the universal indicator for “I’m about to speak”, but every time, he’d meet my shuttered eyes, and he’d stop. When we finally got to the ferry, I saw Lachy immediately, and as he was walking towards us, Smith turned, hands white on the steering wheel, biceps flexing against his shirt, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Kai. It’s…” But Lachy was at the window before he could finish, and I opened the door and left without looking back. Smith was still sitting in the parking lot, staring straight ahead under the washed-out lights of the empty parking lot, when the ferry pulled away.

When we got home, Lachy carried me upstairs and tucked me in bed, where I promptly fell asleep until the raucous sounds of the three men woke me. I snuck down the stairs to see Lachy regaling Jonah and Walker with a story about picking up our order from Red Ginger, all of them in gales of laughter over beers, the baritones and bass of Walker and Lachy mixing with Jonah’s slightly higher, more unrestrained laugh that bordered on a giggle. My lips curved up despite myself – Jonah’s unrestrained laugh reminds me so much of this actor named John Krasinski fromThe Office. During my bedrest after the factory, I resorted to watching blooper reels ofThe Office, and every single time Krasinski broke character I laughed my ass off helplessly. It was such a weird bright spot in a dark week, and Jonah’s laughter is like that. It washes over me, wriggling around like a puppy, darting in and out of the darker emotions, forcing sunshine into the shadows. They heard me laughing, and Lachy came up the stairs, threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, slapped my ass, and took me back down to the kitchen. We spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing about everything and nothing, the guys carefully staying away from any talk of work, just telling stories and stealing food from each other’s plates.

It’s… strange, but unexpectedly nice, this new camaraderie. I’ve felt so off balance lately – an uncontrollable roller coaster of emotionall the timewithout my usual shields. Things seem so desperate one moment, and then, if not good, at least manageable the next. But it’s like a magic force field surrounds Lachy’s – it’s the only place that I can pretend, at least for a short time, to be normal. Or as normal as I ever get. The guys studiously avoid discussing anything that might tear down the paper-thin walls I’ve built up and kindly ignore me when I zone out, tears pressing against my eyes like a tsunami. I struggle through it, knowing if I unleash the darkness that’s rising inside me, I’ll drown beneath those waves. As it is, it feels like most of the time I’m barely keeping my head above water, but being at Lachy’s gives me space to rest.

The house, which was so empty and vast before, seems full to bursting now. In a surprisingly short time Jonah, and even Walker, have just settled into Lachy’s as though theylivehere. And it’s… it’s almost too easy to get lost in this little dreamland, where we’ve formed a funny little unit, and low laughter chases my shadows away. But it’s also hard, because I haven’t had any time with just me and Lachy. We haven’t had a chance to discuss… well… discussus, and I’m vibrating after several days of very purposeful teasing on his part. Lingering fingers tracing down my arm, soft, chaste kisses on my forehead, long, warm hugs… but then, nothing.Nothing. It’s been days of cautious foreplay – he’s being so careful, leaving every step forward to me. And the battle within me rages like wildfire, because I can’t decide if it’s better this way, so things don’t implode and leave me broken, or if I just need to throw myself off the cliff andtry. If maybe, for once, I can be brave. If maybe, for once, justonce, I can open instead of close. The thought is petrifying. So things have continued in an otherworldly sort of way, a little bubble of peace where I don’t have to look too hard at what’s waiting for me just outside, where I can pretend, if only for a little while, that I’m okay.

This morning, though, I wake to a text from Smith asking me to go in and pick up the compiled employee files from Elizabeth, who refuses to send such sensitive information via courier. The guys are still really reluctant to let me ride my bike, not that I even could right now, but I’m definitely feeling up to driving the Mini at least. After debating throwing on clothes, I just leave on my sleeping shorts and tank top and head downstairs, only to see Lachy, alone, making breakfast in the kitchen. Sneaking up behind him, I wrap my arms around his warmth.

His whole body smiles, God knows how, but it does, and he turns to me with warm eyes.

“Morning, Suge,” he says happily, and I grin up at him as he leans over and plants a quick kiss on my head. “Jonah and Walker are already gone. They said to let you sleep, that you weren’t going straight to the office anyway.”

I nod absentmindedly, taking a loud bite of apple. “Truth. I have to run by Cole’s office to pick up some stuff…” I mumble, then pause, swallowing slowly, and put down my food carefully on the counter, suddenly feeling reckless, a strange, bubbly wildness filling me like champagne.

“What’s wrong?” Lachy asks me, immediately concerned, looking completely confused as I kind of shimmy a little in front of him, wiggling my eyebrows like Groucho Marx.Crap, Kai. Groucho Marx isn’t sexy. Do something else!

“No one else is here?” I ask in what I hope is an alluring tone. “So it’s just us?” Moving backwards, I try to hop up on the island counter and bat my eyes at Lachy at the same time. Such complexity has my ass on the ground before I can blink. I had put my hands on the counter, tried to hike my butt up backwards, misjudged the distance, missed the counter, and fallen to the floor in the space of time it took me to flutter my lashes, knocking the fruit bowl and a plate of pancakes to the ground with me. Sitting, ass sore, surrounded by apples and covered in syrup, I blink up at Lachy, confused at how it all went so wrong so quickly.

Lachy is ricocheting between concern and amusement. “What just... Are you okay? What was that? Is something wrong with your eyes? Are you alright?” he rushes out, helping me to my feet and setting me very carefully on the countertop, checking me for injuries.

Eyes doleful, cheeks bright pink, I mutter under my breath, “I wastryingto seduce you,” and he’s lucky as hell that I’m still injured because the fucker bursts into bright, rolling laughter, a cello-like bass sound that has me reluctantly grinning back.

“Oh, Suge,” he says helplessly, trying to speak through his laughter, “Oh my God! Is that what that was?”

I twist my mouth to the side. “You don’t have to laugh so hard at it.” I almost growl. “It’s ungentlemanly.”

Lachy leans over me and presses a soft kiss to my mouth, lips still turned up in a grin against mine, and whispers, “You being in my house, steps away from me the entire night, dominates every thought in my mind, Kailani. Your presence here... I walk into a room that you’ve been in and I can smell your plumeria perfume and it’s like a drug for me. I can’t think of anything beyond your name. It’s a song in my blood, Kai. My pulse beats in rhythm to your breath. My name in your mouth is seduction. There’s nothing you have to do beyond call to me to have me.”

Whoa. He hasn’t moved from my mouth, body pressed between my legs spread open to either side on the counter, and he runs his hands down my back, grabbing my ass in a sudden movement and pulling me tight against him. A high, breathy sound escapes from my mouth, as Lachy inhales sharply.

“The things I want to do to you to make you make that sound again.” He murmurs against my mouth, his hands sliding over my thighs, thumbs sliding down into the crease where my thighs meet my hips. His fingers are splayed wide, curved over my legs around my ass, and I suddenly realize how massive his hands truly are. His thumbs stroke up and down in slow movements,justoutside the fabric of my shorts, where my skin is bare beneath his calloused fingers.

“Wh…ha…at ssssound?” I say, stuttering and slurring my words as my neurons fizz and pop, the sensation of Lachy’s thumbs rubbing small circles on my upper thighs distracting me from everything else. Like my ability to speak English.

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