Chapter Twenty-One

 

Four eighteen AM.

I should have known better.

I can’t stop crying, I can’t breathe, I can’t think. The bitter trifecta of failure.

My twisted sheets tangle around my body, and I’m as limp and flat as my pillow, paralyzed by my spectacular incompetence. Even The Knot is silent, a cold, stunned lump of misery. The sun’s not up yet, but at least it will eventually rise out of the dark, low dawn.

As for me, I’m not so sure.

I keep replaying everything in my head. I should have known this would be harder than I ever thought possible. Dad said it would be, but I didn’t think it would be such an epic disaster that even he couldn’t salvage it completely. And now, he may be gone for good.

Everything started out the way it always does. The veil of stars rolled and effervesced as I passed through them into Dreamland, and when I skirted the tops of my trees heading for Brian’s dream, I knew I could do this. I had experience now, I knew how to keep my balance, and I especially knew not to stay too long. I felt invincible!

All I had to do was step into his world, take his hand in mine, and show him where to go to be safe. This was a simple mission: touch down, get him, push hard, and fly out. What could go wrong?

I found him easily too. From high in the violet sky, his world was a buzzing island of pale yellows and bright greens out on the horizon. I didn’t have to crunch anything together or hold it in my mind. I saw the lights and pushed forward, eyes open. It was like swimming through a layer of summer heat, a dense wavering curtain of energy, but then it gave way, and I popped through. When I landed, the air was cool, as fresh and dark as the desert at midnight.

I was on a thin, high bridge, overlooking a city of prisms. At least, I thought that’s what it was, even though it was like no city I’d ever seen. It was like in the movies when they show a metropolis at night, with all the traffic moving in fast motion but through layers of translucent, multi-angled prisms. Like a hive full of millions of bees, the prisms hummed with pale gold energy and Kelly-green electricity. More than just three dimensional, it was four or five or twenty dimensions deep, layered and pulsing. Almost… thinking.

The bridge I rested on swayed gently, its golden suspension wires as thin as hairs, interlocked in a perfect looping pattern, like those animations that show how gravity bends time and space at the edges of black holes. A perfect geometric grid, curved down to a dense point of infinity. Where the golden wires intersected, tiny, bright green spangles shivered like droplets of water, first bright and then dimming, pointing the way.

I smelled spaghetti sauce and knew he wasn’t far away.

-Brian. The violet drops of my voice rolled along the wires, like beads sliding down a gilded string.

I took a cautious step forward, testing the gravity here. The thin strand held me, but I kept myself light, with my fingertips grazing along one wire for guidance, because in someone else’s dream, you never know. I gained speed, gliding along quickly like an ice skater, following its spiral path lower and lower.

-Brian.

With every featherweight step, the bridge vibrated and hummed like a violin string. I could now see the bridge spanning above and across the entire city of prisms, almost to the horizon. The wires telegraphed the vibration of my movements like a web, and when I looked back up to where I’d started, I realized that’s what it was—an enormous, golden spider web.

I was in the right place for sure. Hamlet the Space Spider is only the latest arachnid in Brian’s long history of spider obsession. When he was just a toddler, he was fascinated with Grandma Lily’s stories about patient, precise Spider. He has admired their engineering skills his whole life. They are tenacious, he says.

Then I realized if dreamwalkers appear as animals sometimes, he might be a humongous spider, which I was definitely not ready to see. But then, he’s not a dreamwalker, so hopefully he’d just be Brian. A hint of those strawberry-lemon Macaroonies drifted by as I stepped off the web and onto soft beach sand, and there he was, his normal non-spider self. Here in this spot, the night had disappeared, and the tart ocean breeze swirled with hazy morning sunshine.

He wore his favorite board shorts. He was on his hands and knees, making a sand-dribble castle like the one in the picture in my room—but on steroids, with dozens of towers and levels, topped with intricate, dribbly spires and decorated with hundreds of pearlescent seashells. His hair stuck out in salt-water spikes, and patches of sand were stuck to him in places as if he’d backed into a sandy paint roller. A look of intense concentration furrowed his round face as he scooped wet sand from the edge of a tidal pool, packing it densely into a bucket before upending it for the next wing.

His eyes were closed.

-Brian, I said. The purple sparks rippled toward him and simply evaporated. He didn’t stop what he was doing or even raise his head.

-Brian!

Dad said Brian wouldn’t be able to help me. It never occurred to me he wouldn’t be able to see me or even hear me. The dreamwalk clock was ticking, so I dropped to my knees directly in front of him and put my hands on his shoulders. Unlike Dad and Lucas, who felt warm and solid, I could barely sense my hands on him. It was like trying to hold Jell-O.

-Brian, it’s me. It’s Vivi. I need you to listen.

His slippery arms twisted easily through my numb fingers as he turned back to the bucket and began packing it full of sand again, humming. My heart fluttered like a frightened bird. Now what?

-Brian, look at me. Look! I lifted his chin up, stuck my face an inch away, and yelled as loud as I could. You have to come with me. Right now! It’s an emergency, come on!

He stayed still, and for a hopeful millisecond, I thought I saw his eyes flutter under the eyelids. But no, it was gone, and he wasn’t seeing me at all. He kept humming and turned away for more sand.

That familiar nudge deep in my chest meant three more minutes, tops. The fluttering bird in my stomach turned into a whole surging flock, and Dad’s instructions echoed back to me:

You will have to push, Vivian, as hard as you possibly can. You will have to fly.

Brian had stopped moving and was standing in front of his architectural creation with that quizzical, intense look he has when trying to remember something. The tug had tied itself to my spine, and while the pressure was still gentle, I knew I had to get him up and out of there with me. I had to show him how to get to my mountains like Dad said, and I had to do it now. I grabbed onto Brian’s hand and squeezed as hard as I could, trying to find something solid to grip.

Dad’s voice whispered across a dozen years, Look at your hand, Vivi. Try.

I’m trying Dad, I’m trying! I stared at our hands, straining to fuse them together—like Noonie’s $2 bill, the Dreamland painting, and the flowers turning inside out into diamonds.

I was hunting and pushing for the latch that slides into place—push, Vivian, push—and suddenly our hands merged with a grateful click, and we lifted up slowly. Yes!

The tug became more urgent; the prisms collapsed and began to spin.

-Hang on Brian, don’t let go!

But I couldn’t lift him far or fast enough. The sky slipped out and grew dark again, the prisms shimmered back into place, and there we were at the top of the web. Far below, the transparent canyons undulated, and I looked away quickly. A wind from nowhere circled around us, swaying our precarious perch.

-Don’t look down, I yelled, but he was oblivious. Our hands were still locked together, and his closed eyes were frowning down at them, as if wondering what had gotten hold of him. He wasn’t humming anymore.

The wind began to howl, and the suction was dizzyingly strong, pressing the air out of my lungs, smothering me. If I couldn’t drag him out of there in about thirty seconds, I was sure it would rip us to pieces. I looked at my brother, stunned, as the horrifying reality of our situation hit me.

I couldn’t do it.

There I was, stuck at the top of a massive Brian-web, and I couldn’t let them find him—whoever “they” were—but I couldn’t get him out, or show him where to go, or even tell him anything. Hot fear blackened my vision as I realized I would have to leave him here and try to come back again with Lucas. His strong grip that had held me steady along Jackson Connor’s wall might be enough to help get Brian out.

But what if I couldn’t come back? This might be my only chance. No, it had to be now, right now. But how?

There was only one desperate thing left, the one thing that worked before, and maybe—hopefully, please—might work now. The wind roared as I swept my gaze across the web to the little green lights. I braced myself against the golden strands, took my deepest breath and said the name, summoning… diamonds.

Diamonds.

Push, Vivi, push as hard as you can— oh, God, push! Don’t let go. This is it. This is all there is. DIAMONDSDIAMONDSDIAMONDS

The green droplets bubbled thickly and began to turn, blossoming into brilliant, clear crystals.

-Dad, Brian said, opening his eyes wide as the web turned inside out to silver, and something strong gripped my free hand, pulling us up and out of the rising tornado. The three of us spun away into the Dreamland stars.

 

 

The first thing I heard when I opened my eyes to my own Dreamland sky was the warbling of a cricket. My hand was clenched tight, holding nothing except cool mountain air. I bolted upright, and my forehead punched me back down, throbbing like a drum. I leaned up on one elbow, getting my bearings.

Where—?

Brian was sitting a few feet away, eyes closed once more, thoughtfully rubbing the hand I had held. Under a huge pine tree beyond him, a shadow moved, and a silver wisp of cigar smoke curled around a familiar silhouette.

-Dad?

-Hello, sweetheart. That was a bumpy ride out. You all right? He sat down between us, bits of crystal phosphorescence settling around him, and took my hand, resting his other one on Brian’s shoulder. Soft, smoky warmth wrapped around us. Safe.

-I tried, Dad, I really did! I’m sorry I couldn’t get him all the way out by myself. Is he okay? Is he going to be okay now?

-I don’t know, Dad said quietly. I hope so, Vivian. Don’t be sorry—you did a great job. You just had a little stall out on the runway. His affectionate smile was quick, but gone just as fast as it came. Did he hear you? Did he say anything? Did he see you?

-Yes. No. I don’t know! He opened his eyes for a second. He said ‘Dad,’ I added hopefully.

-But did he respond to you or say your name? Dad pressed on. When he opened his eyes, did he see you?

I remembered Brian’s eyelids fluttering, trying to open down on the beach.

-I don’t think so. He was kind of trying before you came, so maybe. He’s here now, though, isn’t that what matters? He’s safe now, right?

-He’s safe for now. What really matters is if he knows how to get back here, knows how to find you when he’s not safe.

-But he’s here, so we can just tell him.

-You can try.

-Me? But you’re the one he felt, Dad. He opened his eyes when you came.

-I can’t stay, Vivi. They are very near, and I can’t let them find you.

-Won’t they get sucked out when I wake up?

-Some of them can stay longer. They can keep you asleep.

-Who? Who are they? Wait, there’s this guy, Jackson Connor. There’s something wrong about him. Mom and Brian don’t see it, but Lucas—

-Lucas? You mean Joseph Wolfsong’s son? His dark eyes caught mine and held them intently.

-Yes, he’s the one I was telling you about before. He’s a dreamwalker too. And his dad.

-Joseph can help you. Talk to him.

-But he’s gone, Dad. Missing in Iraq, the same week as you. Lucas thinks he’s still alive. You knew him?

-Joseph’s missing? Dad took a sharp breath. Yes, I knew him on the rez. We were in Bosnia and Iraq together. And Stargate. Vivi, I have to go. He stood up in one swift, fluid motion. The soft cocoon of our togetherness slipped to the ground.

-But this guy, Jackson Connor. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep panic from creeping into the edges of my voice. Dad placed his hands on my shoulders, dense and warm, and his hug surrounded me like the buttery smoke of his leather jacket.

-He could be anybody—or nobody. You have good, strong instincts, Vivian. Trust them.

-When can you come back?

-I don’t know if I can. It was dangerous to come tonight, and I don’t know if we can do this again. There are limits. He spoke so softly, I barely heard him. His solid presence was dissolving, flattening out so he looked like a picture of himself.

-Not ever? But you have to! I don’t know what’s going on. What do I do? What do you mean, limits?

-Brian. Get back into his dreams. Get him to see you or hear your voice. Lucas can help too. I don’t think they know about him. But do it soon, Vivi. There’s not much time.

His voice was fading, rising up into an unseen tunnel that would take him from me again, this time maybe forever. Hot tears stung my eyes as I tried to grab his hand before he dissolved completely.

-No, Dad, no!

My desperate shout came out as single droplet of amethyst, and I watched, helpless, as it chased the tiny diamond-remnants of Dad over the trees.

-Walk with me.

-Nil’ hish ash. I walk with you always, Vivi, the wind said as the last diamond twinkled out. Always.