“Are you sure you’re okay?” Andy asked.
“I am.”
They were walking to the comm center to try to locate the apartment and woman in Isabelle’s dream.
Andy trudged behind Isabelle, lead in her shoes. She hadn’t seen these people in ages. She’d opted to just walk away. And now she was back for round two. What price would she pay this time around? Isabelle was a rookie. To be a rookie dreamer at twenty, and powerful at that, was looking for trouble. It could get both of them killed in an instant.
She didn’t think—no, she knew that Isabelle was unaware of the danger they would face over the next few days. But she had promised her that she would keep her safe and she was committed to doing exactly that, no matter the cost. Kate would not ruin another life, especially not one that seemed so innocent.
Isabelle came to a stop. “It will be okay, you know.”
Andy nodded.
“I’m okay. I promise. I’m not scared and I’m not going to flake out on you. I want to see this through. I want to see who I am. Who you are.”
Andy’s stomach tightened. “Who I am? I don’t know if that is such a good thing.”
“Nobody is going to judge you. Least of all me.”
Isabelle smiled gently and turned around before Andy could see the expression on her face. She continued down the hall and turned left to the elevators.
“Wait.”
Andy’s breathing hitched as the realization hit her. As Isabelle’s words finally registered. The comm center was on the fifth floor. Isabelle had led them through a maze of hallways on the third floor straight to the elevators, Andy lost in thought.
And she wasn’t lying about not being scared. She’d been abducted, held against her will, drugged, told outrageous stories, and she hadn’t been nearly as scared as would have been expected.
Andy shot past Isabelle and came to a stop in front of her. “You’ve seen all of this before. You’ve seen me.”
Isabelle stood completely still. Andy could trace the curve of her body through the white T-shirt, spot the expectant exhalation of someone caught in the act, bracing for the backlash.
Isabelle looked at her feet as she spoke. “If I’m the most powerful dreamer Ma Soeur has seen since the 1400s, do you really think I’ve not dreamt all of this before? That I haven’t dreamt about your mother? Claire? The abduction? This moment?” She leaned in, touching Andy’s arm, her fingers sliding down her hot skin, into her hand. “You?”
* * *
Andy was angry and it showed. “I don’t get it. Why let yourself be taken? Why end up here?”
Isabelle shook her head, then headed to the fire escape next to the twin elevators. She shouldered the door open and walked through, then stopped as the door closed behind them. The stairwell smelled faintly of water and dust. A naked lightbulb dangled above their heads, throwing grotesque, exaggerated shadows against the concrete walls.
“I was desperate for some answers. Any answers.” She pointed to her head. “I had to know if the dreams meant something or if I was simply going crazy.”
“So, you allowed Ma Soeur to take you?”
It was clear that Andy could not comprehend such surrender.
“Don’t talk to me as if you know what it’s like to be me,” Isabelle snapped. “You know nothing about what it’s like to live with these images in your head. Night after night. The violence. The blood. I was going mad trying to figure out what was going on. Who in their right mind keeps on dreaming about stuff like that? And then, with Horace, the dreams came closer. It was someone I knew and cared for. And then I dreamed about you and your mother and this place and I knew I could find the answers to what was happening to me here.”
Isabelle lowered her voice. “I had to see if it was real or just some trick my mind was playing on me. I had to trust myself. Take a crazy, blind leap of faith.” She blew out a slow breath. “It was that or some institution, and I really, really didn’t want to do that.”
She moved closer to Andy. She could sense the tension and the anger, the trepidation and the fear, even though Andy would never admit to those feelings.
She counted to ten in her head and placed a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m here because everything I dreamt said I could trust you. That you are a decent, honorable person underneath everything you are feeling right now.”
Andy eyes fluttered wide in surprise. She stepped back as if Isabelle’s hand was burning her skin. “Did you…Have you dreamt anything else about this place? Me?”
“No,” Isabelle lied.
Andy stood anchored to the floor, hands on her hips.
Strong hands. She’d always imagined that she liked strong hands.
All of this was new to her. This woman. What could happen. Would happen. She’d only dated a few times. First, there were boys, then men, and then only recently had she agreed to blind dates with women. The first one had turned out to be an awkward evening, with her date, a law major, leaving as soon as politely possible. The second and last woman she couldn’t even really remember, only the uncomfortable fumbling in the back of an old pickup truck somewhere outside the city.
Isabelle had felt out of place—even more so than usual. In fact, everything about dating had felt wrong until the dream about this woman. Andrea Feraud Bouchard.
The silence lingered.
Andy rubbed her hands down the sides of her jeans, then balled them into fists. “Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about the earlier dreams. The dreams about me and Kate that got you here. It will keep you safe. What was that? Three, four days ago?”
“Seven.”
“Fuck. If my mother knew that she would use it to her advantage, and that could be dangerous for you.”
Isabelle nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”
Andy scrubbed through her hair. “You have to be careful. Don’t trust anyone, not even me. These people will make you buy into something that isn’t real. Nothing can change the future. It’s just backpedaling against the tide. A useless exercise in treading water until we all eventually drown anyway.”
Isabelle didn’t want to argue with Andy, not now. “The future is never what we want it to be. That I know. I can write you a very simple algorithm to prove that concept.”
Andy smiled wryly. “I don’t need an algorithm to know that.” She walked the two steps to the fire escape door, then turned. “Just tell me one thing. How could you dream about me if there was no violence involved?” She hesitated. “Or was it some other type of event?”
Isabelle looked at her sneakers. Andy had said that dreamers had visions of highly emotional and traumatic events. Hers had been of herself, moving under Andy, groaning frantically as she sought release, biting into Andy’s shoulder as she came.
She blushed, wiped at her chin. “It was…I can’t remember exactly. I just know you were there. That’s all.”
Andy nodded, not convinced. “Okay. Let’s go. But remember, don’t tell anyone what you told me. For both our sakes.”