The Dream Catcher's Daughter (20 page)

The paladins handled him rather cordially,
which made Jason hate them even more. Didn’t they realize what they were doing?
Did they know who they swore their allegiance to? Apparently, they did, because
they listened when Shemillah told them to stow Jason away in one of the cells.
For later, she’d said. The holding block consisted of a long hallway with
steel-barred cells on either side. The floor looked clean and each of the cells
looked relatively well-kept. But, at least in this block, there were no other
prisoners. They took him into the last cell on the right. They told him when
mealtimes would be—that is, if he would be around long enough to eat. As the
two paladins closed the cell, Jason looked up at them.

“What happens now? Do I get my memory
erased, as planned?”

They glanced at each other, the paladins
did. And they shared a smirk. “Don’t know. Looks like the Mistress wants you
all for herself. You must’ve pissed her off royally.”

“Now, now,” said the other paladin. “Let’s
not get carried away. After all, we don’t want to rough him up. The Mistress
will do plenty of that, I’m sure.”

Their laughter echoed down the cell block.
Even after they moved away, their laughs boomed and bounced against Jason’s
eardrums. His stomach felt as though it might fall out of his body, so he sat
down on the bench in his cell. The thin mattress spread across the bench
crinkled as he tried to get comfortable. No such luck. He closed his eyes,
hoping to shut out everything. But all he did was shut out the gray of the
cell. The
mildewy
scent of dirt and mop-water filled
his nose. The paladins’ laughter faded. He sighed through his nose, and it
sounded like a dragon breathing fire. If only he could be a dragon. At least he
could melt the steel bars with his breath.

“How long are you going to ignore me,
Jason?”

His eyes fluttered open, darting around
his cell. Where had the voice come from? The sink and toilet in the corner? Or
the barred window between the bench and the opposite wall—too high to reach?
Perhaps, he was only lowering into insanity. That would explain it. He hadn’t
seen anyone else in the cells.

Except he hadn’t checked the cell right
across from his.

“Over here, dumbass.”

Jason jerked his head toward the other
cell. There, leaning her full weight against the bars, stood Lenmana. Len for
short. Jason slipped from his bench, falling onto the floor. He scrambled
toward the bars, white-knuckling them, shaking them as he stared doe-eyed at
his friend.

“Len, is that you?”

“No. I’m a figment of your imagination. Which
leads to my next question: Why the hell are fantasizing about me?”

Jason shook his head. “
Don’cha
know? You’re sexier than cream cheese.”

They laughed so hard, Jason pressed his
face against the bars. When he pulled away, red stripes lined his face, and Len
pointed. “Well, I don’t want your candy cane.” They tore through another fit of
laughter. When they finally settled into silence, they both wore smiles. Len
shook her head. “When I first met you, you couldn’t even smile.”

“Thanks to you. Without you, my memory
would’ve been gone.”

Len shrugged, as if to say, “Whatever
floats your boat.” And she lowered her head, sitting up. Jason’s eyes flicked
to her lap, where her hands were holding something. It was the same thing Jason
remembered seeing in Len’s room. He’d also seen it in the vision his mother
forced upon him.

Len looked up from the wand with feathers.
“Hey, don’t get any ideas. As a Dream Catcher, I can’t use this wand. It’s just
special,
y’know
? They say it was the only thing left
of my father. They never found a body.”

Jason could only stare.

“Len...”

“It’s okay. I know.” Len’s eyes garnered a
wet sheen. Her cheeks twitched as she rubbed at her already bruised face. “Your
father told me. After he found out who I was.”

“How did he find out?”

“He’d known. I guess our parents were
really good friends. He told me this after Darlene and I were booted out of
Visonia. Strange things were going down: Paladins doing mass searches
throughout Sheriffsburg. The paladin captain was found murdered in his own home.”

Jason clasped a hand to his mouth, but the
gasp escaped. Rashan, his godfather? Dead?

“I don’t think he was one of them,”
continued Len. “And that’s the first sign. It didn’t seem like the paladins
were taking their hunt for his murderer seriously. It just seemed like they
were searching for something.” She looked up. “Then we saw them at your house,
ransacking the place. They came out with a wand and white cloak. We went to
tell your father. I brought my wand as a good luck charm, and when he saw it,
he explained what had happened ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

Len crossed her arms, hugging the wand to
her chest. “No matter who my father was, he was my father. I wish I could’ve
known him at least a tiny bit.”

Len looked tiny and frail. And Jason
wondered just how frail she was. Her face was starting to wrinkle—crow’s feet
at the corners of her eyes, stress marks on her forehead. Wasn’t she
smooth-skinned the day before?

“But now I know the Guardian didn’t kill
them” she said. “Though it doesn’t make a difference. I’ll never see
Darlene...” She pursed her lips, cutting herself off.

A few moments later, Jason said, “Where’s
Darlene?”

“Safe, I hope.”

***

Two hours later, the door at the end of the
cell block grated open. Jason’s stomach clenched as Sirin sauntered toward the
end of the block. Sirin himself was unimpressive. What caught Jason’s gaze was
the red cloak fastened around the paladin’s neck—Rashan’s cloak. Jason jumped
to his feet, gripping the cell bars tight.

“
You
killed him!” said Jason.

Across from his cell, Len also stood. Her
eyes shot daggers at the man who had kicked her in the side like a dog.

“Come now,” said Sirin. “Don’t give me
that look. Neither of you ever liked me much. Same with Rashan, I’m afraid. Of
course, when someone with my peculiar talent appears out of the blue only a
year ago and asks to become a paladin, I suppose any good leader might be wary.
Foolish Rashan only started suspecting me after that little incident in the
interrogation room.”

He wheeled on Jason, turning his nose up
at him. “Now here you are. Largely useless except for bringing my mistress back
to life.”

“Useless,” repeated Jason. Then, something
in Jason’s mind clicked. “You. You were there, with the King of Dreams. In the
basement.”

This cracked Sirin’s grin even wider.
“Clever, but still useless. Just like that pathetic father of yours. He
couldn’t even hide the Dream Caller’s wand and cloak in creative places. Kept
them locked up in your house. In your mother’s old room.”

Jason knew where they were kept: The
locked bedroom door, the door he now remembered his mother locking herself in
after she had her episodes—like when she took a knife from the kitchen drawer
and rushed Jason. But that night, ten years ago, she hadn’t gone to her room.
She’d run from the house, to the alleyway. Jason only followed because he saw
that his mother was sad.

“Yes,” continued Sirin, “you’d think an
apprentice of the Guardian would be more resourceful. Oh well. No one will have
to deal with his incompetence ever again.”

Len’s mouth dropped open. Jason punched
the cell bars. Sirin only smiled at this. Enjoyed it. Jason hammered the bars
again and again. The fourth strike split his knuckles, blood dribbling down his
fingers, dripping onto the floor. He glared at Sirin, who showed not the
slightest bit of fear.

“You’ll pay,” said Jason.

Sirin clucked his tongue. “An eye for an
eye leaves the world blind. And who here is blinded by their rage? Keep
punching those steel bars. It does a lot of good.”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“How? By tomorrow, I’m sure Mistress
Shemillah will have had her way with you.”

“I don’t give a shit if you erase my
memory. I’ll remember you. I’ll remember you until I die.”

Sirin leaned in tauntingly close. Just
close enough for Jason to feel the warmth of his breath, but thanks to the
bars, still too far away for Jason to inflict any damage. Sirin tilted his
head.

“Who said anything about erasing your
memory? The Mistress has plans for you, Jason. Big plans. So rest that brain of
yours. Don’t even think about escaping. As if anything short of a flying train
will save you.”

Jason’s hands fell to his sides. He could
only glare into Sirin’s face, into that hooked nose set below two green eyes.

“And after she’s done with you, your
little girlfriend over here will be joining your father. If only your other
friend were here. I’d love to storm her bedroom. Even if she hid under the bed,
I’d take her by the hair to the alley out back and…Well, I’ll leave that to your
imagination.”

Sirin turned on his heel and sauntered
away, his laugh bouncing off the walls. Jason could only stare after him. The
thud of Len’s fist against the metal bars rattled him into awareness again.

“That son of a bitch. I’d like to get my
hands around his throat.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Len I know.
Besides, you’re supposed to be a protector. A Dream Catcher, right?”

Len grunted, falling back on her bench.
“Frankly, I’ve never liked being the Dream Catcher’s daughter. It kind of sucks.
Not only do I look like I’m fifty, but I never get out. I never see other
people. I’ll never have a girl...I mean, boyfriend.”

Jason shook his head. “Stop pretending.
You
obviously
like Darlene.”

Len sighed. “So, you could tell?” Jason
chuckled. And Len’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment. “Shut up,” she said.

“I’m not laughing at you. I think you look
cute together.”

Len only nodded, then said, “I think you
and I would have been...How
does Darlene say
it? Bros?
I think we would’ve been bros for life. If I wasn’t going to die and you
weren’t going to...Hey, what’re you doing?”

Jason stood and paced about his cell. He
scratched his head, mumbling to himself. Len watched him, tapping her foot
silently. Jason stopped mid-step, and whipped his head toward Len.

“The Queen of Dreams and my mother both
said I had no chance at becoming the Dream Caller.”

“Wait, what?”

“My mom said there was no way I could
become the Dream Caller. She never did say why. But if that’s true, then
something doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that?”

“I sealed my mother in Dreamrealm by
summoning the train to run her over. If I’m not the Dream Caller, then how did
I summon the train?”

Len rubbed her chin, tonguing her split
lip. “I don’t know, Jason. Where are you going with this?”

“What if I can summon the train again?”

Len’s eyes lit up with realization. She
shot up from her bench, her gaze locked on Jason. “If you can, summon it so it
smashes through your wall. Maybe then you can escape!”

Still, the initial problem remained: How
to go about summoning a magic train? Before, Jason had summoned it after
watching his mother kill Len’s father. He remembered screaming. About that time
was when the train appeared. Jason turned and stared at the wall, focusing on
it. Maybe if he focused the same sorrow he felt that night, he could call the
train again. But ten years was a long time, and Jason could hardly recall the
emotion he felt that night. True, the feeling never truly left. It was there,
and he felt the remnants of it, but the emotion itself had worn down into
little more than a slight tug at his heart.

After five minutes, Jason sighed, dragged
himself to his bench, and slumped over, forehead cupped in one hand. He
chuckled.

“If only I could start over,” he said. “If
only I could go back and fix everything. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.”
Jason didn’t know where the words came from, but they were his words. Deep,
cutting words that had been there all along.

“Start over?” Len slammed her hands
against the bars, rattling them. “I don’t get a do-over, Jason. Neither do you.
No one does. Just
‘
cause
you
made mistakes doesn’t mean you’re bad. Okay? You can dream. Use those dreams as
your power, no matter how farfetched. Would Tara want you to give up?”

Jason considered this. And while the
liquid stone seeped into his hands and arms, Jason closed his eyes, immersing
himself in the pain, the drowning. Each time the drowning started, he asked
himself,
Is
this what it felt like to Tara?
Is this how it felt as she sank lower and lower?

I failed her. I fail everyone.

“That’s not true.”

Had he said those words out loud? It
seemed like he did, because when Jason opened his eyes, Len caressed him with
her gentle, although confused, gaze. The gaze reminded him of another. Someone
who, at this moment, clung to life by the cuticles.