Speaking of death, I’ve completely forgotten about Gertrude. Since I’ve just put her into REM sleep, she could touch me with her free hand at any moment.
I jump back into my body and wake myself up.
Chapter Twenty-One
My eyes open to the sight of Gertrude’s unbound hand swinging erratically.
Puck, it’s now flying my way.
Before I can even think the word dodge, someone forcefully jerks me back. Gertrude’s hand zooms right by my nose.
I sway slightly in my new location, stunned. Did that touch my nose? If so, I’ll lose it—in the best case.
Kain examines my face like a plastic surgeon prepping for a rhinoplasty. “You’re fine. She didn’t touch you.”
“Fine?” I look at my finger that touched Gertrude’s hair. Though unrotted, it’s still unsanitized.
“Come.” Kain leads me to the kitchen sink, takes the finger I touched her hair with, and pours dish detergent on it.
“Pucker,” I hiss under my breath.
I scrub my hands for several minutes to stop myself from antagonizing a vampire, which is what I really want to do.
Kain hands me a roll of paper towels. I dry my hands and top it off with half a bottle of sanitizer.
“I assume you didn’t get a chance to clear Gertrude,” he says.
I shake my head, still too angry for words.
“Do so now. I don’t want to keep her here any longer than necessary.”
“There’s a problem.” I plop onto a barstool. “To make it fast and easy, I need to know what she did at the time of the murder. Otherwise, this might be a huge project.”
“Oh, she told me that.” He grabs another water bottle from the fridge and hands it to me. “She was watching a movie in her room.”
“Alone?” I grudgingly take a sip of the water—no point in being dehydrated just because I’m mad at the vampire in front of me.
“Right, no witnesses.” He leans against the counter. “Yet another reason I suspect her.”
“Can you describe her room for me? And what movie was she watching?”
He describes her living room, then says, “The movie was Catwoman. I didn’t realize we had that crap in our library.”
“I’ve never seen it. What’s it about?”
He waves a hand impatiently. “I haven’t seen it either. It has a horrible reputation, to the point that I found it suspicious that Gertrude would watch it, of all things.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Well… just knowing that Catwoman’s in it might be enough.”
“Okay, good.”
“Can you go watch Gertrude?” I say. “Let me know if she wakes up.”
If he realizes I don’t want him to see how I do my magic from a distance, he doesn’t show it.
As soon as he’s gone, I stroke Pom’s fur a few times to calm myself and slide into the trance.
Pom is pitch black when I reappear in my dream palace. “That was some subdream, wasn’t it?”
I take flight. “Let’s talk on the way to the tower of sleepers. I assume you also had no idea it was a dream?”
He catches up to me in the air, his fur now a dark beet hue. “Yep, no clue.”
“Even though you were a unicorn?” I make a miniature replica of the unicorn fly next to us.
“You didn’t know it was a dream either.” He zips forward to float in front of my face. “And you’re the one with dream powers.”
“But all you do is sleep and dream. Out of the two of us, you have more chances to realize that a subdream is just a dream—and once you do, you could tell me that.”
“Well, I didn’t know.” The tips of his ears look like carrots. “Maybe next time?”
“I don’t want there to be a next time.” I enter the tower. “That was too close for me.”
We fly in sullen silence as I locate Gertrude. As we approach, I spot the telltale miniature dark clouds flying above her head.
“Not this again,” I mutter. As with Bernard, I’ll have to deal with her trauma loop before I can verify her innocence.
Fine. Given the complication, I’ll do a little more prep.
I locate the sleeping Felix and enter his dreams.
Felix is playing a violent video game with his second roommate, a girl I jokingly call Princess Peach. They each have a pet on their laps—a cat for him and a chinchilla for her.
Felix unleashes a flurry of onscreen kicks and punches, ripping the head off Peach’s character.
Interesting. With so much blood and gore, I’d expect him to faint, but he’s grinning instead. Either game violence doesn’t feel real to him, or it’s because this is a dream. Probably the latter. In the real world, his opponent would anticipate his every move with her seer powers.
I clear my throat.
They both look at me, but only Felix’s eyes have real intelligence in them.
“This is a dream,” I say. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”
Felix jumps to his feet. “I fell asleep?”
I transport the two of us to my cloud environment. “You did.”
He adjusts his “there is no spoon” t-shirt. “I’m sorry. I drank two Red Bulls and—”
“Don’t worry about it.” I sink into my cloud chair. “I need your help. Have you seen the movie Catwoman?”
He plops onto the therapy couch. “It’s crap.”
Pom appears next to me, and I idly fluff his fur. “I don’t need your skills as a movie critic. I’m going into the dream of someone who saw this movie, and I need details.”
“I think it had like a three point three out of ten on IMDb,” he says, looking askance at Pom. “Halle Berry, the star of the film, was dishonored with a Razzie award for her performance.”
“Okay, so it sounds like you at least know the actress who was in it.” I lean forward. “What does she look like?”
He regards me thoughtfully. “A bit like you, actually.”
Pom turns a curious light orange as I place him on my lap and tell Felix, “How about you picture her in your mind, so I can see for myself?”
I give him a moment before shooting him with a burst of power.
An attractive woman appears next to Pom. She’s wearing the kind of leather suit that vampire addicts often wear back on Gomorrah. Must be the infamous catsuit.
Pom wrinkles his furry nose. “She doesn’t look at all like Bailey.”
I wistfully file away those perfect cheekbones into memory. “Yeah, she’s way prettier.”
“If you really need the plot, ask Ariel,” Felix says, oblivious. “She loves anything to do with Batman and wouldn’t have missed that movie no matter how bad it was.”
“Good idea,” I say. “Stay here and talk to Pom. I’ll be back.”
Before either of them can say anything, I return to the tower to see if Ariel is sleeping.
I’m in luck—she’s here.
I touch her forehead and enter her dream.
An orc is throwing a giant fist at Ariel’s jaw. She dodges it, pulls a huge knife from somewhere, and spears his fist in a swift motion. The orc roars and tries to kick her—but she dodges that too.