The Cure for Dreaming by Cat Winters Page B

“You are doing so well. Keep going . . . all the way down. All the way down . . .”
    Two delightful revolutions later, my chest collapsed against my legs.
    â€œExcellent. Wonderful. I am so impressed.” He seemed toshift his position and kneel in front of me. His hand cradled the back of my skull. “You are now submerged in one of the deepest levels of hypnosis. Say
yes
if you understand me.”
    â€œYesss,” I mumbled with heavy lips into the wool of my skirt.
    â€œ
Magnifique
. Now, Miss Mead, I want you to listen to me, for the next part of my instruction is extremely important.” His lips bent close to my ear, and his voice traveled directly inside my head, as if he were taking up residence in the middle of my brain. “When you awaken, you will see the world the way it truly is. The roles of men and women will be clearer than they have ever been before. You will know whom to avoid. Say
yes
if you understand me.”
    â€œYesss.”
    â€œGood.” He exhaled a feathery sigh against my cheek. “Now, some of the things you see with your new vision might make you angry. However, you will be incapable of uttering angry words. Whenever you are upset, all you will be able to say is ‘All is well.’ Say it right now.”
    â€œAll is well.”
    â€œGood. All is well. You will see the world the way it truly is. The roles of men and women will be clearer than they have ever been before. Instead of getting angry, you will say ‘All is well.’ Say it once again.”
    â€œAll is well.”
    â€œWonderful. I am so glad you understand. I am going to bring you back up again. Let us just take our time and do this slowly. I will count to ten, and you will feel my hands rising upfrom your feet. One . . . two . . . You feel the force between us cooling, weakening . . .”
    The blanket lifted off me, and I rose like a swelling loaf of bread.
    â€œThree . . . four . . . five . . . let it go, you are doing splendidly, Miss Mead . . . let it go . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . you are almost back . . . nine . . .” He pressed his hand against my forehead. “Ten. Awake.”
    I opened my eyes.
    â€œOh—my Lord!” I sank back against my chair and grabbed the armrests. “Oh, God!”
    Henri Reverie kneeled on the floor in front of me, and he had turned into the most delightful creature upon which my eyes had ever feasted. Flawless skin. A perfectly structured nose. Sumptuous red lips that looked ripe and full and ready to be touched. Pure blue eyes with bottomless pools of dark pupils that reflected his sincerity and concern. Concern for me.
    â€œDo you feel all right, Miss Mead?” he asked in a voice like a distant echo, as if spoken from the opposite end of a tunnel. He leaned forward on his knees, and I couldn’t help but reach out and sift my hand through his hair, which slid through my fingers like golden threads of sun-bright silk. The rest of the world darkened into shadow around him. All I could do was look at him—really look at him.
    â€œOlivia!” snapped Father, also in a faraway voice. “Why are you touching him?”
    I lifted my face toward Father to try to describe Henri’s confounding beauty, but my tongue froze when I caught sight of a fiend in a white coat standing in the lobby where my father should have been. The brute’s red eyes gleamed bright and dangerous, and his skin went deathly pale and thin enough to reveal the jutting curves of the facial skeleton beneath his flesh. His graying beard resembled the flea-infested fur of a rat.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked the fiend, his canine teeth as sharp as the fangs of a wolf or the deadly tip of a scythe. “Are you cured or not?”
    I clutched the armrests until my fingers ached, and my knees knocked against each other with the thumping