Page 80 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
“Hope is the dream of a waking man.”
The three of them stood there in silence, until Magnus finally spoke.
“She certainly is.”
Their eyes met. Without another word, he turned and opened the heavy steel door, and melted into the darkness of the tunnel.
“Lumina.” Nola’s voice was soft, filled with a hesitation that dragged Lu’s attention back from the fading sound of Magnus’s footsteps.
“Yes?”
“I just want to say . . . thank you.”
“For what?”
Nola swallowed, looking down at the necklace in Lu’s hands. She seemed to be fighting for words. “So many terrible things have happened to me in my life. I’ve . . . it’s never been easy for me. Even when I was a little girl.” She laughed a low, husky laugh, filled with dark humor. “Especially then. There were countless days when I would have gladly killed myself, if only I’d had the courage.” She hesitated, then glanced up. “But today I found something I lost long ago.”
Lu waited silently.
Nola said, “Hope.”
“I . . . I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“I never really believed in anything . . . after. You know. Life. But now . . . what you saw, with Grandfather . . .” Nola’s eyes misted, and she reached out and clasped Lu’s shoulder. “Grandfather used to tell me, ‘There is no death, only a change of worlds.’ I never believed that. Until today. Until you. And now I have a reason to keep pushing forward through this nightmare existence. I have the only thing a person really needs in order to survive: hope.”
Lu’s stomach roiled with nausea, her heartbeat skittered and tripped. She looked down at the necklace in her hand. “Please don’t put me on a pedestal; I’m no hero, Nola. I’m actually more of a dysfunctional mess. And I’m sorry to say this because you’ve been kind to me, and I don’t want to seem like an ungrateful jerk, but . . .” She met Nola’s eyes, and knew her own were bleak. “It might have only been a dream. His last dream. And not . . . what you think it is.”
“Maybe,” Nola admitted. “But maybe not. And that’s where the hope part comes in.” She wrapped her arms around Lu’s shoulders and hugged her, swift and tight. Then she pushed her away, all sentimentality replaced by that commanding side Lu had begun to think of as the General. “Off with you, then! And don’t forget what I said about the range on those bikes.”
She gave Lu a gentle shove toward the door. Lu pocketed the necklace, nodding, and turned to leave, but Nola’s voice made her turn back one final time.
“Something else Grandfather used to say, Lumina.”
“What’s that?” Lu watched a smile hatch over Nola’s face.
“Those who have one foot in the canoe, and one foot in the boat, are going to fall into the water.”
Lu blinked at her, nonplussed. “I can honestly say I have no idea what that means.”
Nola’s smile grew wider. “It means a divided heart is destined for failure. So plant your ass in the canoe, let go of doubt, and paddle like a motherfucker. It’s the only way to get where you need to go.”
Then she pushed shut the door.
Three days of round-the-clock pampering and the best medical care available on the planet had not improved the Grand Minister’s mood one iota.
“Idiot! Schwachkopf! Kretén!” he screamed at the young nurse who’d come to change his bandages and apply fresh salve to his red, weeping skin.
The doctor standing calmly on the other side of the Grand Minister’s bed assumed his insults were hurled in three languages in order to make sure there was no doubt of his displeasure. As if his manner and tone weren’t enough.
“Please try to remain calm,” said Dr. Petrov in his practiced, soothing voice. He’d dealt with nearly every kind of human sickness in his long career, and considered himself a particular expert in diseases of the mind; it was obvious to him that the Grand Minister was a lunatic. Of the raving variety. But such a fact, stated aloud, would ensure the swift removal of his head—or something even more cherished—so Dr. Petrov only smiled his bland smile and kept the damning evaluation to himself.
“Calm!” shouted the Grand Minister. His face turned an interesting shade of plum. His lone blue eye bulged, threatening to pop from its hollow socket. “You expect me to remain calm when I’ve just found out you’ve been slathering me in goo made from THOSE DISGUSTING ANIMALS?”
Dr. Petrov adjusted his spectacles, trying to communicate with his eyes to the frightened nurse that she should ready another syringe of tranquilizer. They’d already used several on their patient since he’d awoken yesterday and had promptly started screaming.
“That goo, as you call it, has literally saved your skin, my dear Grand Minister. Had we not applied the Neoderma, you certainly would have died by now. You suffered third-degree burns over seventy percent of your body, charred skin, blistering, shock, and deep tissue damage, and the medication was necessary to—”
With surprising strength, the Grand Minister grabbed Dr. Petrov’s arm and yanked, pulling him down to the bed. The clipboard he’d been holding flew from his hands and fell with a clatter to the white tile floor, the papers attached to it fluttering like dry leaves in a breeze. He stared at the Grand Minister in wide-eyed shock.
