Dream Quest Page 5

  * * *

  It was dark. No lights--not even emergency backups. Cold. Hard to breathe, too. Life support must be out. Her head ached and something warm trickled down the back of her neck.

  She hurt. Well, that was a positive; if she hurt she wasn't dead. With a hull breach she shouldn't be alive. The hull must not have ruptured, or if it did, the self-sealing walls had saved her. Ammi tried to lift her head. She was lying on her side on the floor. Reaching down, she felt her bare legs. She'd been thrown from the box.

  Of course, with debris scattered everywhere, there was no way she'd be able to use her wheels anyway. Reaching down her back, she felt for the leads that connected her lower spine to the control system. They'd been torn out and the area felt tender. Thick liquid covered her fingers when she brought them up to her nose. A metallic smell, blood. She would need repairs.

  Assuming she lived. She didn't seem too injured, but to live she needed air, the one thing in fairly short supply.

  Lights flickered on and a small buzz came from her communications console. The speaker sprang to life with a loud squawk. "...I'm showing the power on, but nothing else. There may be no atmosphere in there."It was Captain Thompson, station commander.

  "There has to be, otherwise... I just can't accept that she's dead!"

  Ganth's voice! What was he doing here, wasn't he on his ship? Even through his respirator his sweet voice enthralled her and dying was no longer a reasonable option.

  "We can't open the safety doors until we know the hull is intact. If she's alive, she can tell us that."

  "But with her legs, maybe she can't reach the comm,"Ganth argued. "Listen, I didn't space walk across half a kilometer to wait outside a door."

  Legs? Ganth knew about her legs--and still wanted to see her? Suddenly it became important to get off the floor, get to the switch. Hoisting herself onto her arms, Ammi dragged herself to the console, thanking her lucky stars she'd spent time in the station gym building her muscles. She pulled herself up to a sitting position then reached up to hit the open switch. She took a deep breath. "Comm reporting. Amirilla here."

  "Ammi!"Ganth's voice was jubilant. "Blessed Gaia, you're alive."

  Thompson's voice interrupted. "Report, Asteras. What's the status in there?"

  Another breath, shallower; there wasn't much air left. "Hull seems intact, life support minimal. It's cold and hard to breathe."The exertion was too much. Faint, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

  Ganth voice broke in. "Hear that? Get the door open."

  A low buzz followed and a few minutes later she heard the door slide open. Strong warm arms slid around her and a respirator mask was fit to her mouth and nose. Fresh oxygen tantalized her lungs as she breathed deeply. Ganth's voice was in her ear. "I'll get her to sickbay."The warm arms hoisted and carried her from the room.

  She breathed in, deeply. A rich musky odor enveloped her nose, tingling. "I thought you said the air smelled funny in one of these. It smells wonderful."

  "What you smell is me, Ammi. You're wearing my respirator."Ganth stuck his face into her hair, breathed deeply. "You smell good, too."

  Abruptly, his breathing became uneven and he leaned against the wall of the corridor. Deep in his chest she heard his heart pound erratically. Over the mask she stared into his face, the intense concentration in his eyes, mouth.

  "Ganth, what is it?"

  He took several deep breaths, let out a ragged laugh. "Nothing. And everything."He lifted her higher and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before resuming his way to the sickbay. "It's only that I've attached to you."

  Sudden exhaustion overtook her. Warm, safe, oxygen to spare, she leaned into his comforting embrace, closed her eyes and drifted off into a pleasant haze.

  * * *

  She awoke in a bed, the gentle sound of medical instruments pinging gaily around her. Peeking, she saw the austere white walls and clean lines of the sickbay. Opening her eyes further she saw Ganth on the stool near the bed, eyes half closed. Yes, she could see him as Garran's son. He had the same dark blue eyes and dark hair, cut medium length, but not as grim a face as his father. Handsome, of course. When she moved, his eyes flew open. He pulled closer to her, his hand on her forehead, fluid worry in his gaze.

  "Ammi, how are you?"

  "I'll be okay."She could breathe, move. Her back hurt, not surprisingly, but not too much. Sudden concern overtook her. "You aren't wearing a respirator. What about..."

  His laugh was indulgent. "Not to worry, I can only attach once and that's already happened. To you, Ammi, just as I expected. I knew you were the one from the beginning."

  His words thrilled her. "But Ganth, my legs."

  "You told my father that there was more to you than your legs, and that's true beyond measure. I told him the same thing. Dad will accept that, and if he doesn't, Mom will convince him."He chuckled. "She is going to love you."

  She remembered what he'd said about her not reaching the console. "You knew, before?"

  A sheepish grin overtook his face. "I've known a long time, Ammi. Months ago I broke into the station's computer system and downloaded your records. I wanted to know more about you."

  "And it doesn't matter?"

  "Matter, no. Mind you, Gaian medicine is far beyond what they practice around here. Artificial limbs, bone reformation. My mom is a doctor, she's bound to have some ideas. I can't promise that you'll walk, but I suspect we can do better than a mechanical chair for you.

  "But no matter what, I said I loved you and I always will. How can the woman I love be anything less than perfect to me?"He pulled the twin star bracelet from his pocket. "Ammi, a Gaian man isn't complete until he finds his mate. Please, accept this, be my wife."

  He'd known the truth all along and still loved her, accepted her as she was. Joy enveloped her and she felt her lucky stars smile. She fastened the band around her wrist.

  "I love you too, Ganth. I guess I'll need to make one of these for you. What would you think of a jack-in-the-box as the symbol?"

  Leaning forward, his lips met hers in their first real kiss. All the stars in the galaxy whirled and danced. When they parted he touched her cheek, stroking it with the back of his hand. "You could make it a girl-in-the-box, instead. Whatever you pick, I'll be proud to wear it."

  Knight Moves

  by CB Scott

  CB Scott is the writing team of Cynthia Klimback and Beth Ciotta. Their current releases include Scandalous Spirits (4 stars from RT Magazine!) and Knight of My Dreams (4 stars from RT Magazine!). For news on upcoming releases visit their website at www.cbscottbooks.com.

  Janie Lane loved Kenrick Bonel.

  She settled into the faded plush seat--front row and center--of the old Midtown Theater for her sixth midnight viewing of Knight Moves. She swiped the rain from her short locks and kicked off her soggy shoes. Being the only one in the theatre gave her a creepy, exhilarated feeling. The lights darkened and she shivered. She would be alone with him. She'd be absorbed into the amorphous sponge of color and sound, of history and heroism. She would become Catherine Cross--Kenrick's beautiful love interest whose black river of waist-length hair did not come from extensions.

  Light sliced into the theater as someone entered. Ruffled at the distraction, she turned in her seat. She watched the red-carpeted aisle in the glow of dancing soda cups and candy bars. First black boots appeared. Then long, denim-clad legs and lean hips. A strong hand cradling a bucket of popcorn. A hard jaw and playful dark eyes. The man tossed a kernel into his mouth then smiled at her. Her jaw dropped as he sat off to the left, a few rows behind. He was gorgeous--she'd have to be blind not to notice--and he was flirting. Wasn't he?

  He winked. Janie spun forward in her seat. Her cheeks burned. Oh-ma-god. Was he joking? Was the light to her back playing tricks on his eyes?

  She fought the urge to do a double take. What if he took it as a sign of encouragement? What if he moved forward, sat beside her?

  Like that was going to happen. Men like
him didn't flirt with women like her. He must be throwing her a bone. Pity charity for the woman sitting alone in a dark theater on a Saturday night.

  Get a grip, Lane. He's alone, too.

  Yeah, probably taking a breather between babes.

  She slumped in her seat and crunched her popcorn in annoyance as the endless, bass- thumping previews blasted from the speakers. Then, a black screen. A deep, imperious voice. "In a legendary time. In a legendary battle of good versus evil, only one man could save a land from destruction. Only one man could save the woman who would be queen."

  "Kenrick Bonel."She sighed, Popcorn man forgotten.

  Janie sat straighter as clashing swords screeched through the darkness. The camera raced through the lush ancient forest, narrowly missing tree after tree until...Kenrick Bonel. He dodged his opponent's lunge, arcing so fast and graceful that the enemy's venomous eyes bulged in shock at the sword jammed against his throat.

  "You will tell me who killed Catherine!"he demanded in that to-die-for English accent.

  Janie nodded her head as the bad guy trembled. "Catherine lives."

  The orchestrated music rose with Janie's heart. The scene switched to night outside Dunrake Castle, the stronghold of Catherine's bastard sister, Morgan. Janie felt a tug at her elbow. She turned and found a dark shadow snatching her purse.

  Hey!"She latched onto her bag with a death grip. The shadow tugged harder, pulling Janie out of her seat toward the screen.

  Tribal drums and an ominous penny whistle accompanied the pathetic tug of war.

  She should have known. The handsome man wasn't flirting with her. He was a thief! He'd been mocking her!

  He gave a determined yank. Janie flew forward and clocked her head against the wall. The music died. As she crumpled to the floor, she heard the crack of knuckles against flesh.

  Everything turned black.

  * * *

  "God's blood, m'lady. What have they done to you?"

  The voice was familiar. The sensation of a man fondling her choppy locks was not. She was dreaming. An incredible, vivid dream. If she opened her eyes she'd see the chiseled face that melted her heart and limbs. Or, horror of horrors, she'd wake up.

  She played dead.

  His hands moved over her body, probing for injuries.

  Janie shivered when his fingers connected with bare skin.

  "You are freezing! They took your hair and your slippers."He cursed. "At least you are clothed. Albeit as a man."

  She sneezed. The room was freezing. And it smelled. Like damp earth. Rot. Since when did dreams stink? She crinkled her nose and cracked open one eyelid. Dark. Dark as the midnight theater when the movie had begun. She opened both eyes. Her senses tingled. Was she awake in the dream? Or awake for real? Her eyes adjusted to the din. Stone walls. Dirt floor. She had to be dreaming. She was in the dungeon. The part where Kenrick finds Catherine. Just before their headlong race through the bowels of Morgan's castle. She tensed, knowing what lay ahead.

  Relax. Enjoy. You can wake yourself up before the scary part.

  Right.

  Kenrick pulled her to her feet and held her against his hard body. His arms squeezed her tight. She could barely breathe, but she sagged against him all the same. She didn't remember the last time she was held by a man. Wrong. It was two years, three months, and sixty-five days. Or something like that.

  Still. It had never felt like this. Arms so strong. Protective. Full of love. For her.

  And just like that, she turned as cold as the stones. It was hard to savor his affection when he thought she was someone else. She knew all about "someone else."There was always "someone else."

  "I'm not Catherine."Had she said that aloud? She blushed. Her voice sounded small, even in the dark quiet. His presence overpowered her.

  He tugged her out of the cell and into the torchlight. "Indeed you are not."His emerald eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

  She winced at his sharp tone. "I...I don't know."In the movie Catherine had been here. In place of Janie. What had she done? Why hadn't she pretended a little longer? This was a dream. A lucid dream. She could have been Catherine. Catherine with lopped off hair, but still the love of Kenrick's life. Instead she'd felt compelled to douse a hot dream with a bucket of reality. A perfectly good fantasy shot to hell. Maybe that was part of her dating problem.

  Now what?

  He backed her up against a wall. For the first time she became truly nervous. The frigid damp stones made her bones ache. Everything looked, smelled, felt so real.

  "I was told I would find Catherine imprisoned here at Dunrake. In this cell."

  "I'm sorry--"

  "You know naught of her whereabouts?"

  "No."

  "Then you are of no use to me."He nudged her back into the cell.

  "Wait! You can't leave me here!"She felt the walls close in on her. Reality or illusion, she refused to experience this nightmare alone.

  He eyed her. Hard. "What did you do?"

  She knew if she said, "I don't know,"he'd leave her. He needed to find Catherine. He didn't have time to play at rescuing criminals and liars. "I, uh, killed a rabbit in the king's forest. I was starving."She'd read that in a romance novel. She'd learned a lot about how to survive-- especially with men--in those beloved books. Too bad she'd never employed her knowledge until now.

  He looked her up and down. Sighed. "You are a bony one."

  First her hair, now her body. She knew she was nothing great to look at, but no man had ever said it directly to her face. That's where the "someone else"came in.

  "Very well. But keep quiet or I will kill you myself."

  He turned his back and stalked down the tunnel. She kept close. She felt the heat rolling off of him. She knew what it had taken for him to sneak undetected into the dungeon. She'd seen it herself five times. As well as the perilous escape.

  This time was different. This time he had her in tow instead of Catherine. She'd already altered the scene. By doing so had she altered the rest of the movie? Their lives? Their destinies?

  Her heart hammered as she followed Kenrick Bonel through the din. They neared an intersecting corridor. The corridor where Kenrick and Catherine plowed into a guard. Catherine had distracted the seven-foot ogre with her staggering beauty, giving Kenrick the advantage. Janie doubted she could distract the guard if she danced a naked jig. She grabbed Kenrick's arm. He looked ready to snarl at her but she titled her chin toward the corridor. The guard walked past, disappearing up a stairwell.

  Kenrick growled through clenched teeth, "Are you a witch? Or a decoy for Morgan!"He grabbed her. Shook her.

  Panic. "A witch."

  "What?"

  It seemed the lesser of the two evils. Until he dropped her arm and backed away.

  "A good witch,"she said. "I can help you find Catherine."

  "Before you said you didn't know where she was. If this is a trick--"

  "I know. You'll kill me yourself."She was scared, cold. Kenrick's disdain was a bitter disappointment. Though why she was surprised she didn't know. She wasn't royalty. She wasn't beautiful.

  She wasn't Catherine.

  She dragged her hand through her cropped hair and sighed. "You're going to have to trust me."

  He raised a suspicious brow. "Your accent and clothing are foreign. I found you in a dungeon. Why should I trust you?"

  "I'm all you've got."

  "What is your name?"

  "Janie Lane."

  "Odd name for a woman."He leaned closer, eyes narrowed. "You act as though you know me, yet I am certain we have never met."

  Only in the dark. "As a witch, I'm very intuitive."

  He thought a moment. Sighed. "Very well."He glanced toward the steep winding staircase from whence he'd come. Voices echoed above. "We must find another way. What do you propose, Witch?"

  * * *

  Janie wished she'd never taken off her shoes. Damp dirt squished between her toes as they carried a dwindling torch through gloomy tunnels. It
made her think of entrails. No sooner did that thought cross her mind when they stumbled into the medieval version of The Showcase Showdown. Two tunnels. Each entry lined with a parade of welcoming human skulls, their jaws locked open in silent screams.

  She jumped, even though she'd seen it five times. Amazing how real everything felt. Including the frigid tongues of air lapping from both tunnels.

  He turned to her, eyebrow cocked in a Kenrick Bonel arrogance that had seemed much more charming on screen. "Which way?"

  In the movie, Catherine had told him to go right. Janie recalled a certain petulant, one-eyed troll that didn't take kindly to trespassing. In fact, the nasty critter had nearly clawed out Kenrick's eye. Worse, it drooled. But which was scarier? The known or the unknown? "I just came to see a movie,"she mumbled.

  "What did you say?"

  "Right. Go right."Yuck. She hated one-eyed trolls. Probably smelled bad too.

  She closed her eyes as they shimmied across the frayed rope bridge. The frigid air chilled her sweat-soaked skin as it whipped up from the black, bottomless gorge.

  "Open your eyes, woman. We have problems enough without you pitching over the side."

  She opened her eyes but didn't look down. It occurred to her that she could actually die. If she fell down into that gorge, would she wake up before she hit bottom? She concentrated only on the rope until they reached the cliff on the other side.

  She sagged as her feet touched dirt, but relief was brief. Next came the troll, then the poison-tipped spikes.

  What if she did die? What if this wasn't a dream? What if Kenrick never found Catherine? Then Morgan would become queen. The curse would come true and Black Night would seize the kingdom, squeezing any light and happiness from its good people. They must find Catherine.

  But how?

  She must think of something by the end of the spike pit.

  Quick and silent, they moved through more entrails until she heard the bubbling rush of the underground stream. "Up ahead,"she whispered, trying to swallow the fear in her throat. "A one-eyed troll."

  He moved in front of her and lead the way. "Stay close."