Once Upon a Nightmare

a perfect stranger who knows too well

xiv: a perfect stranger who knows too well

 

Our pod vehicle, whatever it is, looks like an egg on wheels. When Moe puts a hand to it and closes his eyes, the surface glows like a light bulb. Then he opens the door and tosses me inside. Before I can right myself, Lana climbs in with another girl. We lurch forward and I fly off the seat. With a grimace, I pick myself up and watch Hina’s palace get smaller behind us out the window. I don’t hear an engine or anything else that could be moving us, but moving we are. Lana and the other Dream breathe hard, their faces shining with sweat, but they don’t pay any attention to me.

“Who’s driving this thing?” I hiss.

“No one,” Mo answers with surprise. “Zis is a Reality Skipper.”

“A what?”

“Mortals, when zey dream . . .” He stops, as if remembering who he’s talking to. “You know. Ze way your dreams can skip time and place, resting in only ze important places. Skipping ze drudgery of reality.” He taps his temple. “All you do is zink of your location, in great detail, zen touch ze Reality Skipper—and it knows ze way.”

There’s no window for me to verify if this is true, but it sounds as plausible as anything else in this place. The second girl wipes her forehead and her fingers scrape and clink like two pieces of china rubbing each other. Her cheeks are decorated with two perfectly round dots of pink. She’s a doll, I realize—with several chips and cracks in her complexion. “Geez. All that for one Nightmare,” she says. “Lucky the princess was there. I honestly think he might’ve made it out except Donovan grabbed her.”

“They have Genn,” I breathe, hating myself. I’m so stupid. How could I let this happen?

Lana grunts. She takes her waist-length red hair and braids it over her shoulder, tying it roughly in a knot at the end. “Even then . . . When the fountain tipped, he blasted it. That’s when we caught him.”

“Serves him right for blowing everything up.”

Lana’s eyes remain unfocused. A line of frustration appears between her brows. “No. There was a Dream underneath it. It was almost like he was trying to stop the fountain from landing on her.”

“Zat does not sound like ze prince we know and love,” Mo says.

“Yeah,” Lana mutters. “That’s my point.”

The Dreams ignore me. I scoot my already small body as far into the corner as possible and try not to concentrate on the sick feeling in my stomach—not helped by the bouncy rhythm of the racing pod. Even if Alexander deserves this, it doesn’t feel better knowing he got it. He’s probably with Donovan. Anyone else wouldn’t have much chance containing him. Then again, if it’s true they have Genn, I can’t imagine him risking his sister to try anything.

If she gets hurt, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe Donovan will let her go. He doesn’t need her if I’m there to control Alexander. Then again, every time I remember Alexander’s face as he said, You planned this, I don’t think I can do be the tool Donovan uses to control him.

In fact, I’m sure I can’t. This is so dumb. Everything Alexander thinks about me is right. I’m a selfish, impulsive human-worm. And there isn’t an eject button to this plan. Even if I could suddenly call it quits and get away, how would I know where they took Alexander and Genn?

When we jerk to a stop, the three Dreams leave the carriage and I sit alone for a moment. Mo pokes his head back in. “Everyzing okay, cheri?”

“Bathroom?” I inquire.

“But of course.”

He points outside and I step from the carriage on shaky legs. A thriving camp sprawls before us, a series of hut-like cabins and tents set up between scraggly black trees. The sky and ground are the same death-gray color. Behind the camp lies what I can only assume is the Eye of the World Mountains; jagged eruptions of pitch black rock jutting up into the sky. A few Dreams move between tents, conversing brusquely with each other. The mood is as colorless as the environment.