Dream Walker (Bailey Spade 1)

I still can’t move. My nose starts to itch and I can’t even scratch it, which feels like a creative form of torture.

Soon, Kain comes back with Isis. As before, she shoots the victim with her power, but he doesn’t stir. They bustle out, paying no attention to me.

A while passes.

My legs cramp, and the itch on my nose gives birth to a daughter itch under my left boob. On some level, I’m grateful for the discomfort, because it keeps my mind off the fact that I’m standing next to a dead guy. And the fact that I’m going to be dead myself soon for so spectacularly failing at my job.

Kain comes back with a new group of people. Gertrude is with him, and the siren as well, plus a person I’ve never seen: a pale, ginger-haired dude with glasses so thick they make his eyes look tiny. He’s carrying a suitcase.

“Roger,” Kain says to the new guy. “Tell us why he died.”

Roger hovers over Eduardo’s body with a magnifying glass. Zooming in on the crook of his elbow, he says, “There’s a puncture wound. Strange. I didn’t think he was a drug user.”

“I don’t think he was,” Gertrude says.

“He used steroids to get even bigger than he already was,” Kain says disapprovingly. “Maybe that went wrong?”

Roger shrugs and sets about systematically searching the room. Kneeling to peer under the bed, he grunts approvingly and stands, clutching a syringe. When he holds it up to the light, there are a few ounces of liquid inside.

“Let’s have a look-see.” He opens his suitcase and takes out some high-tech gizmo that looks as though it came from Gomorrah. Placing a droplet of the liquid into the instrument, he waits.

Beep.

He pushes his glasses farther up his nose and squints at a tiny screen on the side of the device. “Interesting. I know this formula. I made this substance myself for Leal, your dearly departed dreamwalker. He was using it to try to put his birds into REM sleep for a few hours, at which point they would die. I’d been trying to improve the formula before he stopped needing it anymore. You know, on account of being dead.”

Right. Leal’s notes did mention someone named Roger working on the sleep drug—the one I couldn’t locate in his lab. And now I know why: because the killer took it and used it for one of the murders.

No wonder Eduardo had been in REM sleep and wouldn’t wake up.

Gertrude points at me accusingly. “It was her. She murdered poor Eduardo.”

If the glamour weren’t stopping me from speaking, I’d ask her why I would want to kill the werewolf—especially since he was my only suspect.

As if she heard my question, she continues. “I bet she found this drug in Leal’s lab and used it on Eduardo because she had trouble entering his dreams without it.”

I know I didn’t do it, but I guess it’s vaguely feasible. Keeping him in REM sleep for so long would give me the most opportunity to dreamwalk in him. But why would I be so dumb as to give a lethal drug to a member of the Council?

“It doesn’t matter if she did it.” Kain’s fangs are so prominent his speech slurs. “Besides, she couldn’t have killed the others.”

Gertrude puts her hands on her hips. “Still, if she—”

“What do you want?” Kain barks. “If she killed Eduardo, she’d be executed—but we’re going to execute her anyway, for allowing another murder. Do you want to kill her twice?”

Gertrude scowls. “I just don’t want her to weasel out of her rightful punishment like she did before.”

“Oh, she won’t,” Kain says coldly. He points his finger millimeters from my itching nose. “She’s done.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

I am? If it weren’t for the damn glamour, I’d have lots to say on this matter.

What’s truly insane is that the glamour is even preventing my body from freaking out. My breathing is normal and my heartbeat is steady. The only sign of my turmoil is Pom’s fur. It’s darker than a black hole.

“Should I call the Council meeting?” the siren asks in a heavenly voice.

“Give me a second.” Kain’s eyes turn into mirrors as he glances my way. “Walk behind me.”

I zombie-walk after him across half the castle to a familiar dungeon.

Of course. I should’ve guessed I’d end up here to await my execution.

The place still smells like fermented sewage, but thanks to the glamour, my gag reflex isn’t bothering me right now.

Kain makes a sharp right into the cell that was my original quarters. With the bed, table, and chair now gone, it looks even drearier—an impressive feat.

He catches my gaze. “I release you.”

Instantly, my heart begins hammering against my ribcage like a starved woodpecker.

“You will wait here.” He moves toward the door.

“Morning,” Felix says in my ear, drowsy but loud. “Did I miss anything?”