Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) - Allyson James Page 0,89
figure out how to use being inside the mirror to his advantage. And with me knocked out, Mick is on his own against him.”
Coyote didn’t speed his snail’s pace along the I-40. Eighteen-wheelers were passing us with impatience. I’d ridden along this road with Coyote before, when he’d gone about a hundred miles an hour, but today, he kept it under fifty. I imagined the curses of the drivers around us.
“You’re here to learn how to fight Emmett,” Coyote said. “Learn what he can do. I’d pay attention, if I were you.”
I tucked the T-shirt over my knees, still cold, in spite of the heater and the fact that we’d left the mountains for the winter desert temps of 70 plus degrees. I was probably lying uncovered on my bathroom tile, and would be this cold until someone laid a blanket over me.
“You’re saying the mirror sent me dreamwalking to learn all about myself and about Emmett,” I said after a time.
“Yep.”
“How do you know?” I demanded. “How do I know you’re not a figment of my fevered brain telling me that?”
“I’m a god,” Coyote said modestly. “I can ride your dreams if I want to. You have some pretty good ones.” He gave me a knowing look.
I had no idea whether he was teasing me or really could eavesdrop on my more erotic dreams. I knew he could cause them, from experience. “Stay out of my head, please. You’re bad enough on the outside of it.”
He laughed. “I’m not in your head. I’m in this reality. I took the time to drive you this way so you wouldn’t arrive too soon. There’s more you need to see.”
“Terrific,” I muttered.
“Relax. Enjoy the scenery.” Coyote flipped on his radio, tuned it until he found a station blasting country music, then rested his hands on the wheel and sang along at the top of his voice.
To the sound of Coyote singing—which sounded almost exactly like his coyote howling—we slid through Winslow, passing the place where Emmett had picked me up in his limo, and down the rolling highway toward the Crossroads.
When we reached it, the hotel was the derelict mess it had been before I’d bought it, dashing my hopes for a hot drink before a crackling fire. The sun was sinking into glorious twilight, and Barry’s bar was already full, the parking lot overflowing with motorcycles and bikers, a glow of light coming from the open front door.
Coyote drove behind the hotel, where the moon was rising over the railroad bed, flooding the desert with silver light.
I climbed down from the truck, my legs weak from sitting for so long, and slammed the door. The sound echoed through the air, and a wild scream responded.
I froze. The scream had come from out in the desert, in the direction of the vortexes. I scrambled up the railroad bed, dirt and gravel sliding out from under my feet.
The scream came again, and a desperate voice. “Janet!” Gabrielle yelled in the darkness. “Help me!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I scrambled down the other side of the railroad bed and raced toward the scream. I didn’t hear Coyote follow—either he’d vanished or was simply waiting for me to solve the problem on my own.
Gabrielle’s cry hadn’t come from the direction of the vortexes. That faint relief didn’t make me feel much better.
The growing darkness hampered me, as did the weeds and thorns in my path. I stumbled across the rock-strewn dirt, heading for the noise, only the moon to light my way.
I nearly fell down a steep-walled wash choked with juniper and scrub. Breaking my way free of branches at the bottom, I found the usual sands of a dry wash that flooded during the rains—and Gabrielle.
She lay half upright, propped on her elbows in the churned pale sand. Her dark eyes were wide in terror. Emmett stood over her, his business suit coated with dust, his hands full of white light. The light, I saw to my horror, was coming straight out of Gabrielle.
I ran toward them, shouting wordless sounds. Emmett looked up.
His face was the gaunt, hollow-cheeked skin-over-bone I’d seen in the mirror, his fingers leathery sticks. His eyes glowed hot, the same color as the light he imbibed.
“Janet!” Gabrielle screamed. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was helping you. I wanted you to be proud of me.”
My forward momentum was halted by a wall I couldn’t see. I bounced from a spongelike substance and stumbled, fighting to keep to my feet.