Dream Walker (Bailey Spade 1)

Firth catches my gaze with his beady eyes and mouths something that looks suspiciously like blood whore—a derogatory term for a vampire addict, which I’m not. Hopefully.

Either way, it’s official: From here on out, Firth is Filth, though perhaps I’ll only call him that behind his back, for safety reasons.

“What was in that vial?” Felix whispers.

Glad the diluted solution looks more like water than blood, I ignore his question. It’s not like I’m in a position to answer him, anyway.

The vampires escort me out to a limo, and we drive down the night streets of Manhattan at race car speeds.

“I hacked into the limo’s GPS,” Felix informs me. “They’re going to the Council castle, just as they claimed.”

Good to know. Now if only I knew whether that’s good news or bad news.

Since Felix doesn’t say more, I stare out the car window to stay sane. We’re passing Times Square, one of the busiest parts of this city. It can’t compare to even the quietest street back on Gomorrah, but the hustle and bustle makes me feel at home. Except there are no humans on Gomorrah—which is what all these people are.

It’s mind-boggling. The Cognizant make up less than one percent of Earth’s population, but from what I know about this world’s homo sapiens, if they learned of beings with powers like ours, they’d see us as a threat and act accordingly. I don’t know if they’d catch us for vivisection or simply wipe us out, but I’m sure the outcome wouldn’t be fun. This is why we keep our existence under strict secrecy, going as far as enforcing the silence with a barbaric practice called the Mandate, which decrees death to anyone dumb enough to blab about the Cognizant on advanced human-dominated worlds like Earth.

Maybe that’s what the vamps want. Have I been on this world long enough to need the stupid Mandate Rite? I thought you were supposed to request it—and plan to settle on Earth, to boot. I doubt you’d get escorted to the ceremony like a VIP.

Felix yawns into my earpiece. I could strangle him right now. The last thing I need is for my sleep deprivation symptoms to resurface.

He yawns again.

That does it. I sneak my hand into my pocket, pull out my phone, and stealthily text, Take a nap.

“What?” Felix says. “I’m not going to—”

Please, I text. I hide my phone before Filth sees me and breaks it like he did with the Gomorran comms.

“You sure?” my friend mumbles.

Turning so the vampires can’t see, I show my lapel camera a thumbs-up and clasp my hands as if in prayer.

“Okay, fine,” he whispers. “If they’re really taking you to see the Council, there’s not much I can do for you, anyway.”

Great. I’m so much calmer now.

When we get outside the city, I decide Bernard has had enough time to go back to bed. That means I can return to his dreams, finish my job, and email Valerian with the account number of Mom’s hospital on Gomorrah. Hopefully he’ll still pay if I’m dead. I’m hoping I’ll live, though. The money from this gig will only cover the outstanding bills, not her future stay.

But that’s enough worrying.

It’s dreamwalking time.

There are many ways to get into dreams. The classic method is to fall asleep myself, which could be tough thanks to the vampire blood I’ve ingested and all this existential dread. The strategy I’ve used more often lately is to touch a dreamer—like my legit therapy clients, illegal job targets à la Bernard, and most often, Pom, the looft on my wrist.

I stealthily slide one hand toward Pom. The last thing I want is to draw attention to his existence. As a looft, Pom spends ninety-nine percent of his life in REM sleep, providing me with a gateway into the dream world that’s always at my fingertips. Well, almost always—he is, on a super-rare occasion, awake. Though you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him in the waking world. Here, he’s a fur bracelet regardless.

Stroking him to soothe myself, I concentrate on my intent to go into his dream.

Just like when I touch any other sleeper, my muscles tense and relax, I smell ozone, and I experience the sensation of falling as the limo around me darkens and the world of wakefulness goes bye-bye.

Chapter Six

I find myself in my dream palace once more. Awesome. The vamps will be none the wiser—there’s a reason I put up with what’s essentially a parasite living on my wrist.

“What?” Pom appears in front of me in the angriest shade of red I’ve seen. “I can’t believe you used the P-word.”

I make my hair and eyes extra fiery. “How many times do I have to ask you not to snoop on my thoughts? You’re only allowed to be upset when I say something mean with my mouth.”