Unfortunately, the soul bond didn't mean Will could read my mind.
As my feet hit the ground, he turned himself into a human missile, fists at the ready. He lunged at Marsh, who sidestepped and swung the gun like a club. An ugly wet crunch, and Will's face went slack. A ribbon of blood opened up on his temple. His knees bent and he crumpled to the ground.
I gasped, feeling the concussion jar my own brain, then ease as Will slid into oblivion.
He lay where he'd fallen, not moving, blood darkening his hair and pooling beside his head. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and I could still feel his heart beating in rhythm with my own. Not dead. Not dead is good.
Everything in me wanted to rush over and stop the bleeding and call for help, but I didn't dare let Marsh see that I cared for fear he'd start shooting.
"Tell me what you want."
"Saundra sent me to get the rest of her stuff. Remember? We agreed."
He said this like it made sense to him somehow, and I shook my head a little to clear it. "This requires a gun? And beating Will senseless?"
"You weren't supposed to see any of the equipment."
But I had seen it all now—the equipment and the little bottles. In that moment I wished I hadn't. If Marsh had only come an hour earlier and taken it all away, I would never have known what was here. And then it wouldn't have been my job to fix it, to clean up the mess. If I let Marsh walk away now with all of this contraband I would never be able to live with myself.
On the other hand, no way was I going to let Will die.
I needed time to think.
Holding my breath and taking a gamble that Marsh didn't really want to pull that trigger, I turned my back on the gun and crossed the barn to the contraption that looked like a distillery.
"What is all this, anyway?" I ran my fingers over the tubing that connected the pot to the glass beakers, watching Marsh in my peripheral vision.
He blinked repeatedly, processing. His brow furrowed and he squinted at the apparatus like he'd never seen it before. Then he shook his head, exactly like a cow will do when the flies are pestering, and said, "That isn't important. Saundra wants her stuff, and she wants it now."
"So take it. Why are you waving a gun around when you have work to do?"
He just stood there, looking dazed and confused, as if this was a question for which he had no answer. I thought about Will, and the guitar, and the little bottles on the shelves in the tack room.
"Sorry about the whole spilled dream thing," I said, watching him. "I hope there are no lingering effects."
He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Stop stalling. You're going to load my truck for me. That's why I've got the gun. So I'm gonna count to ten, and if you aren't moving by then, I'm going to shoot Will. You hear me?"
Marsh's behavior just didn't add up. He'd never been overly bright and he'd always been a bully, but he wasn't stupid and he wasn't a killer. If I was right about what was going on, he'd been programmed somehow and wasn't driving his own boat.
Which made me responsible. For him, for Will, for this whole stupid mess my mother had bequeathed to me. I hate responsibility. All I've ever wanted is freedom, me and Red and the wide open road. Well, and maybe Will.
But I couldn't walk away. Even if I could have disabled Marsh, grabbed Will and made a break for it, I couldn't run off and leave that room full of bootlegged dreams. And I really wasn't even good with the idea of letting Saundra have her hooks in Marsh.
"You don't have to do this." I took a slow step forward, holding out my hands and keeping steady eye contact, as though Marsh was a frightened dog who might be soothed and brought to heel. "Come on, Marsh. You don't hate Will. Just yesterday you were relieved he was still alive. You're not a murderer."
A deep, guttural sob caught in his chest. The gun in his hands wavered. "I am, though. I killed Tom. Threw him in the lake."
I took another step with nothing better in mind than getting close enough to wrestle with him for the gun. I figured if I was right up close and personal I'd be away from the business end of the damn thing, seeing as it was a long barrel and not a pistol. Maybe I could take him down without either of us getting hurt.
Not a great plan, as I'm better at running than fighting. By the time the guns come out I'm usually miles away.
"If you killed Tom—that's no reason to kill somebody else. Make a run for it. Get out of town. Do you think Saundra is going to protect you from the cops? You don't need to help her."
"I want to help her." His voice had steadied and there was a note of pride in it now.
"You? What could you possibly do? Stir the cauldron by full moonlight for the Witch Chemist in charge? Dance naked around a fire?"
He drew himself up straight. "I contributed, Jesse. Saundra said my memories were perfect and she'll give me 50% of the take when we sell them. Afternoon Seduction. That's one of mine. And the Tavern Brawl is, too."
"They stole your memories?"
"Nobody stole anything. I volunteered." He smirked. "Not like I can't afford to forget a sexual encounter or two. So many women are forgettable anyway."
"And when exactly did you have time to do this?"
"Stop it, Jesse. I see what you're trying to do. That's close enough. Not another step."
"Marsh—they took more than you meant to give them. Like the memory of the dream I spilled on you—gone."
His jaws clamped tight. "Just shut up! No more talking. I think I'll just shoot you now and get it over with."
"You can't shoot me."
"Why not?"
The indecision had cleared from his face. I figured he'd talked himself around the empty spaces in his head. That made him outright dangerous. If he truly believed the lines he'd been programmed with, he would pull that trigger and Will and I would both be dead.
"Because I have something Saundra will want, and if I'm dead I can't give it to you."
"Nice bluff, but I'm not stupid." He aimed at my chest. No more hesitation in his movements.
"Listen to me! My mother left me a little something in a safe deposit box. Don't you think Saundra would be interested in that? What do you think she'll do to you if you kill me and it turns out to be important?"
Marsh grinned. "Fine. Then I shoot him."
My heart lurched as he aimed at Will. "Same difference," I said, knowing as the words left my lips that they were true. "If you shoot him, you kill me."
"Aw, are we in love? Will it break your poor little heart if I kill your boyfriend?"
"Our hearts beat as one," I said. "It's a literal thing. We've been fused."
"That's bullshit."
I could feel Will's consciousness coming back into his body. A sympathy headache pulsed over my left temple, and even though I wasn't looking at him I knew the minute his eyes opened. I needed to keep Marsh from looking at him. So I took another step forward, barely breathing.
"Not so long ago I would have thought this dream business was bullshit, too. Look—I'm tired. Will needs a doctor. How about if we go get the stuff my mom left me, and you go home. Everybody lives and it's a total win. Okay?"
Will was up on hands and knees. Blood matted his hair, but his movements were smooth and purposeful and I hoped to all the gods he had the plan that I was lacking. All I could do was try to keep Marsh distracted and focused on me.
"Come on," I coaxed, taking a step toward the door. "It's not in here. Let's go."
He took a step after me, and then I ducked as Will lunged upright, jamming his shoulder into Marsh's ribs and knocking him sideways.
A shot reverberated through the barn, a thunderclap that made my ears ring. Dust sifted down from a floorboard above my head.
Will laid Marsh out flat with a blow to the jaw and had his hands on the gun in a heartbeat. Since he seemed to have things under control, I went off on my own to tackle the other problem.