Dream a Little Dream

“Oh, God, what a horror.” Mariella shuddered, even as she had to admire the imagination that had put that thing together. “Disgusting.”

“It feeds on the souls of the guilty,” Butler said in a dreamy, dazed voice.

“Are you going to fight it?”

He looked at her as though she’d snapped him out of his reverie. “What? Hell, no! You can’t fight that thing! If you’ve ever done anything wrong, one thing, even something minor, it will rip off your face and feast on your guts!”

Mariella could never claim not to have done anything wrong in her life, but this beast wasn’t hers. It had come from Butler’s brain, and therefore couldn’t possibly have any idea what Mariella had done or not. Still, she took a step backward.

“So...what are you going to do, Butler?”

“We run,” he said in a low voice. “I hope you can run.”

“Of course I can run.”

He glanced at her. A slow grin tipped his mouth, crinkling the corners of his eyes again. He was a lot better-looking than she’d thought upon first glance. In fact, Butler was downright handsome.

The monster dug its claws into the earth, its body hunching as the powerful legs twisted. It let out a long, purring roar that sent another blast of stink toward them. Then it launched itself toward them.

“Run!”

Mariella ran. She didn’t stop to see if Butler was following her—this was his dream, and if he got eaten by the monster, he’d wake up anyway, leaving her behind with nothing but empty space. So, why was she running?

Because, she thought with a glance behind her, when a monster chased her, even if she knew it wasn’t real, she ran.

“This way!” Butler grabbed her hand and pulled, leading her over a small, sloping hill that hadn’t been there before.

Mariella hadn’t made that hill, which meant it had come instead from Butler’s subconscious. She had time to note that as interesting before she crested the hill and started down the other side. Much steeper on this one, and jagged with rocks. She’d been barefoot while walking on the sand, but with a small shift of her will, she now wore knee-high black boots with thick, ridged soles. Instead of the white flowing gown she wore black cargo pants and a black tank top—she was now her own version of an adventurer. But Mariella also had a weapon, a serrated hunting knife in a sheath on her belt. It bounced as she ran, and she couldn’t remember shaping it into existence.

Maybe Butler had done it for her the way he’d built this hilly, rocky terrain that made it hard for them to run, but also kept the monster from catching up to them. Mariella looked at him, trying to sense if he’d added to her outfit, but there was too much going on for her to concentrate. Instead, she gave herself up to the running and the jumping, letting her body work in ways it never would in real life, no matter how many hours she spent at the gym. She let out a yell, prompting an answering screech from the monster in pursuit and earning her a startled look from Butler.

“What are you doing?”

She wanted to tell him that it would all be all right, that it was only a dream, but before she could, the terrain changed again. They’d been running toward the dance club that had been her original destination, but Butler wasn’t focusing on that place. The mountains that were always in the distance had caught his attention, and he tugged her that way. The club beckoned her, fairy lights in the sky and the beating throb of some really great techno she could feel in her pulse points even at this distance. She could duck away from Butler’s nightmare and head back to what she’d been seeking, the heat and press of flesh on hers. A hungry mouth and hands. She’d started the night wanting to get laid, not star in some B-movie scenario that looked like it could end in an explosion of severed limbs and a river of gore.

“It’s only—” Mariella began, but stopped herself as Butler slipped on a patch of pebbles and went sprawling.

A dream.

But dreams were powerful business, even if you weren’t able to shape them. Maybe particularly when you couldn’t, because being able to control the Ephemeros meant never having a nightmare you didn’t build for yourself. Butler was a dreamer, not a shaper, and the pain he’d be feeling in his scraped and bleeding palms and knees would be as real to him as anything that had ever happened.

He rolled, scrambling to his feet just as the monster leaped past Mariella and took a swipe at him. The thing’s claws shredded Butler’s shirt and caught the flesh beneath, opening it in long, thin stripes that quickly swelled with crimson. Butler ducked away from the monster’s next swing, but staggered and went down again.

“Hey!” Mariella screamed, turning the creature’s attention to her. “Hey, ugly!”

She waved her arms, dancing away so that it would follow her and not go after Butler. One problem. This was Butler’s dream, Mariella a player in it, and clearly he was meant to be the hero of his own story. The monster gave her no more than a sniffle and a glance before lunging toward Butler again. This time, the monster’s swiping claws took out a chunk of Butler’s thigh, sending him to the ground again.

She had two choices. Leave him to his battle and try to sneak in at least a dance or two before the morning came. Or, help him fight. She chose to fight.

With a simple shift of her will, a sword formed in her fist. Big enough to stab a monster in the back, it broke on the first blow, but that didn’t matter. The thing gushed black blood and reared to face her, its reaching claws snagging and tearing her clothes before she could stumble away. From behind it, Butler rose with a weapon of his own. He stabbed the monster in the side, sending another spurt of smoking blood that sizzled and dissolved the rocks beneath them. The blow barely stopped the thing, which had grown bigger, its body changing into something even more hideous, if that were possible.

Side by side with Butler, Mariella touched the shreds of her tank top and watched the thing in front of them open its jaws wide, wide, wider. Jagged teeth lined the gaping maw, and it would hurt like a son of a bitch when it bit them. Even though she knew the pain wasn’t real, she’d still feel it.

“Shit,” she cried. “This is not how I’d wanted to spend the night!”

Butler gave her another of those startled glances that told her he hadn’t planned on anything like this, either. Without a second thought, Mariella grabbed him by the hand and yanked him backward a step. Then another.

“Run,” she told him. “Run as fast as you can.”

And they did, leaving the monster behind them as the gravel road became grass and then sand and then dirt, and finally, rocks again as they reached the base of the mountains Mariella had never been able to get to before. There, a cave. Convenient, she thought, unsure if it was her will or his that had formed it, only glad for the chance to duck inside shelter and escape the horror that was chasing them.

Of course there was a small internal waterfall, the water cold and crystal-clear and lit by pale green phosphorescence. Of course there was soft moss on the cave floor. And of course when the two of them stared at each other, both of them panting, heat rose between them that offset any chill a real cave would’ve had.

“Let me take care of that.” Mariella pointed at his wounds. They were scabbing over, half-healed already. That was the way of dreams.

Butler let her strip him out of his tattered shirt, and when she dipped the cloth in the cold water to wash away the blood from his very, very warm skin, he shivered. They stared at each other in that weird half-light, and Mariella’s heart skipped two beats. This close, she could smell him. Rainwater. Dirt, but not mud. Butler smelled like a garden ready to be planted.

She put her hands flat on his chest to feel the thunder of his heart beneath her palm. He drew in a breath. Hers shivered out of her.

Of course, they leaned toward each other to kiss.

And of course, her alarm blared, waking her up.

* * *

Butler was late to the morning meeting.

He was never late to work, barring natural disasters or unexpected traffic that hadn’t been reported. This morning, however, he’d been so tired he must’ve shut off his alarm without realizing it. He’d woken twenty minutes late, rushed through his shower, skipped his morning coffee and daily newsfeed reading he normally did at his laptop while eating breakfast. Now he felt out of sorts, wearing a belt that didn’t match his shoes, and a shirt he hadn’t noticed was missing a button.

“Meadows. Glad to see you could make it.” This came from Lasenby with a smirk.

Like Butler was ever late. Ever. What a dick.

“Sorry,” Butler murmured as he slid into the empty chair next to Kacey. She must’ve saved it for him. He smiled at her. She passed him a copy of the notes.

It was barely worth his time to be there, since Lasenby had already covered everything for the week’s assignments. Of course he’d put Butler on a team that was most egregiously behind—allegedly to help bring the team up to speed, but mostly because Lasenby was a jerk who’d decided after the office holiday party last year, when Butler hadn’t laughed at his sexist jokes, that Butler needed to somehow be taught a lesson. It had been all shit assignments since then, along with snide comments on his work, even though Butler had never been marked lower than a nine and a half out of ten in any of his monthly evaluations. Still, Butler took the assignment with no more than a nod, not giving Lasenby the satisfaction of seeing him be upset.

“You okay?” Kacey asked on the way back to their cubicles.

Butler paused to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Well, you were late,” she said. “You’re never late. I wondered if maybe you were sick or something. I hope not. There’s some kind of nasty bug going around. I hope you don’t have it.”

“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well. I had...weird dreams,” Butler said, remembering.

“What kind of dreams?” Kacey asked, but he didn’t want to tell her.

That was too personal, like revealing a secret. The idea of Butler being some kind of Indiana Jones was embarrassing enough, almost as bad as the time he’d dreamed he’d asked Kacey to marry him. He’d woken from that one bemused and definitely the opposite of turned on, unlike this morning with the memory of that woman still fresh in his brain. The gorgeous, auburn-haired woman, like someone out of a movie. No. A dream, he reminded himself. She was a dream.