“They got to him,” Luc says quietly.
I picture a ring of Spore people in their cloaks, their floating swords circling Nole. Stabbing him through the skull the same way they did to James. Him fighting them off with whatever he could find: fists, sticks, dust thrown in their eyes.
But in the end, Nole was overcome. Overwhelmed.
Murdered.
Not by the virus, but by dreamers within the virus. Real people for whom Nole was trying to find a cure.
Luc is talking, but he might as well be underwater for all the good it does. Nothing breaks through the spiral of my thoughts. I thought I’d find relief to learn Nole hadn’t died in the Tunnel, but this is worse.
He probably escaped the Tunnel in that final Sleep, maybe even anticipated waking up and telling me everything he’d discovered. He never got that chance.
I crush my fingers together, tensing against my emotions. Hatred becomes an anthem in my blood. Something clatters at my feet, and I startle.
A wicked dagger with a wavy blade rests at my boots. Half of it is shining steel, the other half is dark and misty. A dual blade. I glance at Luc. Did he toss it there?
Luc lifts his hands. “That wasn’t me.” He indicates my clenched fists. “You made that.”
I look at the dagger. Simple handle, but a serpentine blade, wavy and double-edged. Luc picks it up, examining it.
“A kris dagger. This is fine work for only your second time creating from nightmist.”
“I don’t even know what nightmist is,” I growl, but it’s not hard to put two and two together.
“Take a moment to cool down.” Luc presses the hilt of the dagger into my hands and walks past me to the door. One of his knees buckles, but he keeps his feet.
“I’ll be a few minutes.” He opens the door but turns toward me and flicks his hand. I feel nothing, but when I look down a leather belt with a masterful sheath rests at my side against my jeans—a clash of modern and Roman. The belt is black and smoky, like most things I’ve noticed in the Nightmare, but there are also shades of dark brown leather.
“That’ll hold you over until you can make your own.” He leaves.
I stare at my new weapon, sliding a thumbnail along the blade. A thin shaving of nail falls to the ground. Deadly sharp. I made this? Out of nightmist? I shake my head. How am I creating while inside the dreamscape?
I hardly know anything about this world, only that nothing seems to shake Luc. He has all the answers—including how Nole died.
Spores. Poisoned people wandering about and poisoning others. They can exit and enter the Nightmare at will. They must have some sort of cure and some deeper understanding of this place. Even if they’re murderers, I want answers. From Luc and from the Spores.
More than that. I want justice.
For Nole.
If Luc hates the Spores, that makes us allies. But he’s inviting me into his space not merely as a welcome. He wants something. No one in power invests in others out of the goodness of their heart. He has his own motives, yet why should that stop me from pursuing mine?
Luc returns to find me sitting on the floor-level couch, kris dagger now sheathed. Crixus is with him. He walks over and takes up a post a mere yard from me with one hand on the hilt of his gladius.
I push myself to my feet, not liking how vulnerable the low Roman sofa makes me. Crixus takes a step closer.
“Ignore him,” Luc says to me. “He’s here as my protector.”
“Against me?” My annoyance is growing.
“Of course.” Luc gestures to my dagger. “You’re untrained, Cain. I can’t take chances.”
I glower. I like to think I wouldn’t attack another person—particularly the Emperor—without meaning to, but he has a point. I’m unpredictable because of this Nightmare. I want to be able to control myself—to control my “power,” as Luc called it.
“You seem calmer,” Luc says.
“I am.” I try to say it without a growl. The emotions have not disappeared—they’ve calcified into a lurking threat beneath my rib cage—like a caged animal pacing and waiting for its day of freedom. Until that day, I have plenty of food to give it.
He wants Crixus here as his bodyguard? I can deal with that. “Tell me what you want from me.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?”
I appreciate that he doesn’t deny wanting something.
“Whether or not I agree to your requests, we’ll see.”
“Fair enough.” Luc reclines on his Roman sofa and bowls of fruit and a platter of sliced meat form on the table between us. I don’t help myself to either. Neither does Luc, but the atmosphere turns serious. Ready for whatever topic is about to be served.
“I need a man on the outside—in the Old World.” He takes a deep breath and tucks away any potential emotional display. “My father’s dying.”
He meets my gaze, his own hardened. But I glimpse fear there as he continues. “He’s in a LifeSuPod in the Old World. He’s been trapped in the Tunnel since the beginning of the Nightmare, and I’m doing everything I can to find him and get him out. But the Spores have discovered that he’s my father. While you were in the Old World testing your cure and skipping a Sleep, they tracked down his body and cut power to the LifeSuPod. And to the entire building he’s in.”
Crixus shifts his weight. I steal a glance at him only to catch a frown directed at Luc. This news about Luc’s father seems to surprise him. That tells me Luc is fairly private, even with his own bodyguard. And yet he’s confiding in me. Interesting.
Luc doesn’t seem to notice Crixus’s reaction. “I’ve been trying to find someone—anyone—who still has Awake time in the Old World to move his Pod to a secure location.” His eyes lift to mine. “I’m hoping that can be you. The children we house here aren’t capable enough to do such a task.”
Children? That derails my train of thought for a moment. “You house children here?”
