“And what makes you think they’ll listen to us any more than they did the last time?” Natalie asked her beaming companion.

“Oh, they’ll listen!” she replied with a cheerful giggle, “I’m totally going to ask them to help me remove the masquerade, just like they want! Then we’ll have a little gossip about everyone and work out who the potential Potentials are!”

“And then what?”

Titania swayed for a moment, like a flower caught in the spring breeze.

“Then I’ll go into their dreams and put up new safeguards!” she said with a clap, “Freyr told me it was all about dreams. Potentials have bad dreams that get worser and worser and worser. I just gotta put up some barriers to keep ‘em from not dreaming too much and to warn me of bad dreams so I can come a-running when they need me!”

Dreaming – the mysterious other word what had once inspired a young Natalie into studying astral projection. Back then she’d wanted an escape, and when she’d found it she just kept on going, exploring the realms beyond the nightmare of physical reality until the shadows she saw scared her back to the real world. Alexis had lost himself in dreams and in the shadows beyond them, so it made sense that the power of darkness would begin its corruption there, where the human psyche was at its weakest and inhibitions were loose. What Titania could do to protect anyone in that realm Natalie didn’t know – but then she hadn’t slept for a decade. Once that darkness began to call you, you either never slept again, or never woke up…

***

Katrina rapped on the apartment door a second time, her eyes dropping as she struggled to hold off on the sleep she’d begun to fear. She’d kept herself awake past midnight by focusing her attention on developing the first batch of auragraphs, taken in and around the World’s End, and the results were enough to convince her to stay awake. The aura of the club itself reflected its dirty, underground atmosphere, as if someone had sucked the very life out of the walls and left behind a rotting carcass. It was about as pleasant to look at as one too, but a joy to behold compared to the images she’d taken of the mural. The shadow of the so-called Erebus almost appeared to be reaching out of the wall and into her head with its twelve spindly finger-wings.

No, sleep was a bad idea. At least, she told herself, alone.

There was a shuffling behind the door, a grumbling, and she rapped one last time. With the click of locks and bolts the door creaked open an inch, revealing a portion of Dante’s withdrawn face and a sleepless eye, half obscured by messy hair.

“I figured you weren’t asleep,” said Katrina.

Dante was famed for his odd sleeping patterns, and especially his habit of staying awake for days on end. Katrina’s mother was always worried he was on stimulants or sleep-deprivers, but Kat knew he had a fearful distrust of all drugs because of what they’d done to his mother.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

With an affirmative grunt Dante stepped aside, allowing Katrina access into his darkened flat. She didn’t have to ask for coffee – Dante provided some without asking questions – and waited for him to stop busying about before she began her exposition. As usual he listened intently, his eyes distant as the fires of his imagination were stoked by Katrina’s recollection of the evening’s events. She caught the occasional raised eyebrow or furrowed glare, but for most part he was expressionless, something most people assumed was disinterest. Katrina knew better, and she also knew to leave out certain details from her story – such as just how much danger she’d put herself in. The last time Dante had been pushed past his emotional breaking point he’d run off into Godhand’s manor alone to try and save her.

“And then I came here,” she concluded, “I can hardly sleep after all that excitement!”

Dante sat in silent contemplation for a moment and Katrina knew her white lie was already bending under his introverted scrutiny.

Chapter 57
Previous / Continue
(page 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8)