Dream Hunter (Bailey Spade 2)

Looking at him now, you’d never be able to tell what happened. He’s the very picture of a mild-mannered software engineer. I wonder if he’s a psychopath on some level, or if what he did lives in every parent, ready to be triggered by a horrible-enough stimulus.

The other man I’ve never met before, and it’s a shame.

Despite being waif thin, he’s almost as attractive as Valerian, with similarly symmetrical masculine features and strong dark eyebrows. His hair is pure black, and his skin tone is similar to mine.

“Bailey Spade, please meet Bernard Anderson and Ratridevi Bhairava,” Valerian says and sits down.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson,” I say to Bernard. “And you, Mr. Bhairava.”

“Please call me Bernie.” Bernard smiles. “Because of the Matrix movies, I never go by Mr. Anderson.”

Another fan of that franchise. He and Felix would get along—particularly if I never tell Felix about Bernie’s gruesome past.

“I also don’t go by my last name,” Mr. Bhairava says with a slight Indian accent. “Please call me Rattie.”

I blink at him.

“It’s a play on Ratri, the short version of my first name,” he explains. “People here find it easier to say it that way.”

Well, okay then. If he doesn’t mind that nickname, so be it. For what it’s worth, he doesn’t look at all ratty. If I had to compare him to a rodent, I’d say he looks more like a very handsome beaver. Or an otter, though that’s no longer a rodent. Or even a cheburashka—a koala-like creature that lives in the preserved equatorial jungle on Gomorrah.

“Do I also have to come up with a nickname?” I ask, plopping into a sleek office chair.

Could I go by Bails? Or Beernuts?

Valerian sits down. “No need. We don’t all go by nicknames.”

I salute crisply. “Fair enough, Mr. Bale, sir.”

A sensuous smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I do let those close to me call me Valerian.” His voice deepens in a way that sends a tendril of excitement into my nether regions—an awkward situation, especially in front of Bernie and Rattie.

Taking a deep breath to settle my speeding pulse, I pull my sleeves down to cover Pom’s fur—it’s turned an embarrassing coral pink.

Valerian, meanwhile, is back to being all business. “Do you want your teams dialed in?” he asks Bernie and Rattie in a brisk tone.

“Not yet,” Rattie says, and Bernie concurs.

“Fine.” Valerian looks at me. “I’ve already explained the idea to them. You’re going to be the model for a project we’re calling Lucid Dreamer.”

Rattie grins at me. “I convinced them that instead of this being a new character in an existing game, a new standalone VR game experience makes a lot more sense.”

“One that uses the foundational work of the other projects,” Bernie chimes in. “To deeply cut on prerequisite resources.”

I drum my fingers on the glass table. “A new game? Does that mean it’ll take longer?”

“In a way, yes,” Valerian says. “But there’s also good news. Rattie thinks his team could have a working level in a matter of days—between their Trembling in the Dark project and everything else, they have almost everything they need. It’s just a matter of stitching bits together.”

Trembling in the Dark? I heard about it from Felix. He said, and I quote, “It’s the scariest horror video game of all time.”

“So Lucid Dreamer will be scary?” I ask Rattie.

He shrugs. “If the game is about the mistress of dreams, I figured why not have her fight nightmares? Especially since my team is so good at that sort of thing.”

“Valerian recently purchased Rattie’s whole studio,” Bernie explains. “They’ve been helping out on everything, but they want to sink their teeth into a game of their own.”

“Which means a thousand-plus people will be working on this,” Valerian says meaningfully.

Oh, puck. No wonder he said this is a big ask; the budget must be in the millions.

Bernie opens his mouth to speak, but his phone rings. He surreptitiously glances at the screen, and a tender smile appears on his face as he takes the call.

“Hi, honey, thank you so much for calling me back.” Muting his phone, he looks at us apologetically. “It’s my daughter. We haven’t spoken in years. I’ll be right back.”

Valerian nods and Bernie takes the phone out of the room.

So they reconnected? In his dreams, it was something that tormented Bernard—I mean, Bernie. Perhaps having gone through his trauma loops under my watch, he feels better and has reached out to his family?

“Let me answer this for Bernie,” Rattie says. “We’ll obviously need to figure out more of the story than simply ‘fight nightmares,’ but given my team’s expertise and that Valerian wants the game bumped to phase one, this is the smart play.”

“Right,” I say, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Whatever can speed this up sounds good to me.”

Bernie comes back with an apology.