details before, claiming privacy concerns—on the airplane as well as at the base. All she knew was Adi had requested their presence immediately. They’d barely had time to pack.
“Hate to disappoint, but I don’t know much more than you do.” He negotiated with a sleepy-looking rental agent, and they soon found themselves in an SUV headed toward their destination. It didn’t take long before they left the small urban area around the airport behind.
It was too dark at this hour to see much of Wyoming. This part of the state was classified as a shrub-steppe, a combination of grasslands, basins and mountain ranges. The low population density meant fewer chances of discovery and accidental death should projects go awry. This wasn’t a site where researchers deliberately manifested wraiths, but alucinators in dream comas had haphazard control of their conduits.
Alucinators in medical comas, like Karen Kingsbury, had no access to dreamspace at all. This described most of the comatose patients at the facility. With such individuals, it was only a matter of time before they passed, and every effort was made to ensure their remaining days were painless.
Maggie waited until Zeke’s white-knuckled, double grip on the steering wheel relaxed before reopening the topic of the details he’d glossed over. “What couldn’t you tell me at base? Who are you hiding things from besides me?”
“I’m not hiding things from you.” The high beams shone white-gold on the pavement and flashed off the occasional road sign. “Adi didn’t tell Sean why we had to come.”
“But you tranced and asked her,” Maggie said. “What did she say?”
“She wasn’t there.” He hadn’t mentioned that.
“Who was?”
Even in the dim light of the car, she could see his jaw work and his lips tighten as he hesitated.
“Come on, Zeke. You said you weren’t hiding things from me.” If her presence was requested as well as Zeke’s, she deserved to know whatever he knew in advance.
“One of the station’s coma patients seems to have had a change of status,” he said at last.
“So this is a…funeral?” Would Zeke want to see Karen dead and buried? Was he listed as her next of kin?
“No. Someone’s medical coma may have shifted to a dream coma. Or something else. It was unclear.”
“Isn’t that good? Like a partial healing?” There were more ways to free an alucinator from a dream coma than there were to free an alucinator from a regular coma. In a sense, though a dream coma meant possible manifestations, it was preferable. Recovery was more likely.
“It was Karen,” Zeke said in a tight voice.
Maggie’s stomach lurched with a punch of fear. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He would be. Karen had been his student, his lover. They’d shared a tangible bond, like Zeke and Maggie, but had been intimate in a way he’d refused to be with Maggie. He’d probably been nice to Karen instead of a cranky asshole. Zeke had been so in love he’d ignored his team’s gut feeling something was off about Karen.
The last time Karen had been active, lots of people had wound up dead. After vigil-trapping Zeke in the dreamsphere—an ability she shouldn’t have possessed—she’d manifested hundreds of wraiths and somehow, somehow, directed them to kill people other than her. Normally, manifested wraiths headed straight for their creator, and anyone else was tasty collateral damage.
Maggie knew the story. Hell, everyone knew the story. She’d heard any number of versions since enlisting with the Somnium, most of them even more macabre than Zeke’s had been.
Karen was someone all alucinators feared. And now Maggie and Zeke had been summoned to her bedside.
“Is Karen awake?” Maggie asked tentatively. And they were headed straight for her? The woman whose manifested wraiths had killed over five hundred people in Harrisburg?
His jaw clenched. “Don’t think so.”
“Normally alucinators can’t detect people in dream
“Hate to disappoint, but I don’t know much more than you do.” He negotiated with a sleepy-looking rental agent, and they soon found themselves in an SUV headed toward their destination. It didn’t take long before they left the small urban area around the airport behind.
It was too dark at this hour to see much of Wyoming. This part of the state was classified as a shrub-steppe, a combination of grasslands, basins and mountain ranges. The low population density meant fewer chances of discovery and accidental death should projects go awry. This wasn’t a site where researchers deliberately manifested wraiths, but alucinators in dream comas had haphazard control of their conduits.
Alucinators in medical comas, like Karen Kingsbury, had no access to dreamspace at all. This described most of the comatose patients at the facility. With such individuals, it was only a matter of time before they passed, and every effort was made to ensure their remaining days were painless.
Maggie waited until Zeke’s white-knuckled, double grip on the steering wheel relaxed before reopening the topic of the details he’d glossed over. “What couldn’t you tell me at base? Who are you hiding things from besides me?”
“I’m not hiding things from you.” The high beams shone white-gold on the pavement and flashed off the occasional road sign. “Adi didn’t tell Sean why we had to come.”
“But you tranced and asked her,” Maggie said. “What did she say?”
“She wasn’t there.” He hadn’t mentioned that.
“Who was?”
Even in the dim light of the car, she could see his jaw work and his lips tighten as he hesitated.
“Come on, Zeke. You said you weren’t hiding things from me.” If her presence was requested as well as Zeke’s, she deserved to know whatever he knew in advance.
“One of the station’s coma patients seems to have had a change of status,” he said at last.
“So this is a…funeral?” Would Zeke want to see Karen dead and buried? Was he listed as her next of kin?
“No. Someone’s medical coma may have shifted to a dream coma. Or something else. It was unclear.”
“Isn’t that good? Like a partial healing?” There were more ways to free an alucinator from a dream coma than there were to free an alucinator from a regular coma. In a sense, though a dream coma meant possible manifestations, it was preferable. Recovery was more likely.
“It was Karen,” Zeke said in a tight voice.
Maggie’s stomach lurched with a punch of fear. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He would be. Karen had been his student, his lover. They’d shared a tangible bond, like Zeke and Maggie, but had been intimate in a way he’d refused to be with Maggie. He’d probably been nice to Karen instead of a cranky asshole. Zeke had been so in love he’d ignored his team’s gut feeling something was off about Karen.
The last time Karen had been active, lots of people had wound up dead. After vigil-trapping Zeke in the dreamsphere—an ability she shouldn’t have possessed—she’d manifested hundreds of wraiths and somehow, somehow, directed them to kill people other than her. Normally, manifested wraiths headed straight for their creator, and anyone else was tasty collateral damage.
Maggie knew the story. Hell, everyone knew the story. She’d heard any number of versions since enlisting with the Somnium, most of them even more macabre than Zeke’s had been.
Karen was someone all alucinators feared. And now Maggie and Zeke had been summoned to her bedside.
“Is Karen awake?” Maggie asked tentatively. And they were headed straight for her? The woman whose manifested wraiths had killed over five hundred people in Harrisburg?
His jaw clenched. “Don’t think so.”
“Normally alucinators can’t detect people in dream
Similar Books
