In The Dark Of Dreams Part 41

Moments later, someone stabbed Perrin in the lower back.

Bad aim saved him. The tip of the blade skittered off Perrin's hipbone, but the cut was still deep, shocking. He twisted, thrusting Jenny toward Rik, just as the blade slashed across the back of his tail. Perrin dove, gritting his teeth, his blood spreading through the water.

He was not surprised to find A'lesander.

He was surprised, however, to find desperate grief in his old friend's eyes, and a self-loathing so thick and heavy, Perrin could almost taste it.

A'lesander held an old relic of a blade, probably taken from a shipwreck. Long, curved, rusted almost to rotting-but still sharp.

The two Krackeni men stared at each other, swimming in slow circles, deeper, deeper, away from the light; and Perrin felt all his rage disappear, and all his bitterness, and inside his mind Jenny was warm and quiet, warm and with him, warm and in his soul.

You fool, he said to A'lesander, speaking in the old sea tongue, full of echoing clicks and vibrating whistles that translated into his mind, like telepathy. You had her friendship, and you threw it away. You threw Pelena away. You threw a life away that was yours.

A'lesander closed his eyes. I know what I did.

He attacked Perrin. It was not hard to take the knife. A'lesander only had one good hand, and a quick blow to his broken nose was all it took to disarm him. Perrin knew his old friend had not intended to win.

Perrin held the knife and stared at A'lesander. All around them drifted pale ghosts, other Krackeni, gathering to watch the end.

Do it, said A'lesander.

Do it. Cold blood. Perrin searched for the rage he should have felt, for all those crimes A'lesander had committed. He found his anger, that righteous charge, but it felt as tired as he did.

Perrin dropped the knife, watching it drift and spin out of sight into the darkness. I know you are dying. I will not make it easier.

A'lesander's face twisted with grief, and he looked up. Perrin followed his gaze and saw Jenny and Rik, far above them, floating along the surface. He tensed, afraid that A'lesander would charge them-but in the end, all he did was charge Perrin.

He never reached him. An immense flash of silver surged from the shadows, and a voice sang out. One note, terrible with power. A'lesander crumpled around himself, with such violence it was as though he was nothing but a puppet-strings cut. He did not move again, except to sink into the abyss. His eyes were open. Empty. Lifeless.

Perrin tore his gaze away and stared at his father.

No words. Nothing had ever been easy between them. His father gave Perrin a sharp nod and turned from him. Whispers rose from the watching Krackeni.

Justice . . . injustice . . . what will come . . . from human dreams . . .

Perrin gave his father one last look, then swam upward, toward the light, toward his dream.

Soon after, a ship came. The Calypso Star.

In its wake, some distance away, was Sajeev's fishing vessel and a speedboat filled with those black-clad, hard-faced mercenaries. Perrin imagined he heard a helicopter in the distance.

Eddie stood aboard The Calypso Star, and with him was the red-haired shape-shifter who had fired a warning shot at Perrin. She had, after that initial bullet, introduced herself as Serena McGillis, a name Perrin recognized. Jenny's friend, who had tried to save her baby.

Sharing that, he thought, was one of the reasons he had been allowed to leave the old fishing vessel, alive. That and the fact that Eddie had vouched for him once he'd regained consciousness. It seemed those two knew each other. Enough to maintain a polite distance.

Serena and Eddie helped pull Jenny onto the boat. She had been slipping in and out of consciousness. The woman looked hard at her face, something dangerous moving through her single golden eye: pupil little more than a slit, caught between human and cat.

"Come with me," she said. Perrin carried Jenny into the boat, down the narrow stairs, into her cabin. The bed had been remade, and a slender man was sorting through medical equipment stacked on the small desk. He hardly looked at Perrin. Once he saw Jenny, his focus was only on her.

Perrin was pushed aside, crowded into a corner, ignoring his own wounds as he watched the man and Serena strip off Jenny's clothes with careful efficiency. An IV was placed in her arm. Hot packs stacked around her body. Heart and lungs listened to, questions asked. Jenny remained quiet the entire time though Perrin knew she was awake.

It feels like a dream, she said, as her eyelid was peeled back, and examined with a bright light that Perrin knew would have made her wince had she not been so unnaturally exhausted. I'm not dying, am I?

No, said the kra'a, before Perrin could give his rea.s.surance. We are healing you even now, though it will take time.

We have time, Perrin told her, and found himself confronted with the profound truth of those words. We have all the time in the world.

The corner of Jenny's mouth cracked into a faint smile.

Epilogue.

In the end, the excuse everyone used was that someone needed to bring the dog to Maine.

The dog from the island. No ordinary dog, something Jenny had long suspected, though she'd kept those thoughts to herself-and Perrin-until Serena confirmed the truth some months later.

Her grandfather had a talent with animals. He could possess them, piggyback-take flight inside the head of an eagle, live blind as a mole, sleep warm in the body of a rattlesnake-or, in one case, take over the mind of a particular dog, on a particular island, to help his granddaughter-whom he'd never had much difficulty locating with his mind, no matter where she hid herself in the world.

That last bit of information was something even Jenny hadn't known.

It was spring when she and Perrin brought the dog to the old home in Maine. They stopped first at the graveyard. Jenny laid flowers at the headstone of her unnamed child, and Perrin sat for a time with his hand on the grave, eyes closed and his head bowed.

Jenny did not hear his thoughts. His warmth, though, flowed through the wall between them. His compa.s.sion. His startling love for the baby girl he would never meet. She took that warmth and love, and wrapped it around her grief, which still felt new even after so many years.

Ten minutes away from the old home, Jenny said, "I don't know if I can do this."

"Nothing is going to happen," Perrin said.

Nothing, whispered the kra'a. We are with you.

"I'm scared," she told them, gripping the car wheel until her knuckles turned white. Perrin shifted the dog in his lap, and reached out to cover her hand. He filled up his side of the car, and the wind from the rolled-down window whipped his silver hair over his shoulder.

They had been in the United States for almost two months. It was their first trip away from the Kraken nesting ground, where they had made a home on a little tropical island, inside an abandoned fisherman's home that they had renovated with their own two hands-and some help from Eddie and Rik, and Serena. Maurice had supervised.

One room. Rudimentary plumbing. Electricity generated from solar panels. The Calypso Star, moored several hundred feet off-sh.o.r.e. It was all they needed.

But then a letter had come. Delivered by e-mail.

Jenny, Rest easy, sweetheart. We don't want you anymore. Don't worry about why we needed you in the first place. Our . . . sources . . . now say you're more valuable alive.

For the time being.

But you're still family. Remember that.

Give my regards to the merman.

Your uncle, Richard And Perrin, after reading that, had said, "It's time to go home, Jenny."

He was right, of course. But she stalled, anyway.

Paris first, where Perrin and Jenny visited Notre Dame and walked over bridges, and drank coffee at little cafes where old women gossiped with poodles in their laps. Then, to London, which they fled after only a day, when Perrin found the air hard to breathe, and his skin developed a rash. On to New York City, where Perrin took Jenny to the homeless shelter where he had lived, and showed her the sky rises he had helped build, and the streets he had walked while pretending to be a human man, alone in the human world.

From New York to Chicago, though Perrin lingered outside the Shedd Aquarium for thirty minutes before Jenny could get him to go inside. They did not stay long. The kra'a was disturbed by the creatures within their cages, and the dolphins wept inside Jenny's mind when they saw her, and Perrin.

Chicago to the Grand Canyon, then upward to Seattle-from there to Vancouver where Jenny introduced herself to Chiyoko's daughter, who was not entirely human, after all-and then another long drive across the Rockies through Montana, into Wyoming and Yellowstone National Park where Perrin saw his first wild bear, into South Dakota and the Badlands, and onward, and onward, everything new, everywhere they went, as though sunlight was rubbing a shine on the world.

Jenny wondered how she had lived her life before-blind, maybe. Blind, deaf, and dumb. She couldn't explain the change within herself, but she knew Perrin felt it, too, inside his own heart. Especially him. She had seen in his dreams what he'd suffered for those eight years on land. Some good moments, but never time or money to simply be, and to find those places off the beaten path, lost, exploring a world that few of his people would ever understand.

Dreams for the Kraken. Dreams they sent through the kra'a every night and morning, their combined strength allowing them to leave their new island home near the nesting ground while maintaining the link to the sleeping beast.

A risk. If anything happened to them . . .

It is worth the risk, the kra'a had said. For dreams.

And now, here they were. Home. Finally.

The old house was in better shape then Jenny remembered. It looked nothing like the sagging gray place of her nightmares. Never had, actually-but for so long that was how she had remembered it, that seeing the fresh white paint and green roof, and the gingerbread trim along the eaves-sent a strange shock through her. The house perched on the gra.s.sy hill, facing the sea, and the chimes hanging from the porch whistled and sang.

Her grandparents waited on the steps. Maurice was with them. Jenny sat in the car, staring.

"You love them," Perrin said quietly, opening his door and letting the dog out. "Don't blame them for the loss of your baby."

"It could happen again," she whispered, watching the dog run ahead to the house and straight to her grandfather. "When I come here, that's all I can think of. The Consortium might have given up on me for now, but that won't last. This family . . ."

Perrin dismantled the wall between their minds, and his warmth rolled through her, slow and easy, bringing with it a sense of complete and utter peace. Tears bit her eyes, and she closed them, savoring the miracle.

"There are many miracles," he told her, gently. "We'll be fine."

Jenny took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Okay, you're right."

Perrin kissed her cheek, his mouth lingering until she turned her head and brushed her lips over his. Sweet, gentle, making her ache to press close against him, hidden from the world. She missed their island, suddenly, with a sharpness that stole her breath away. "Jenny," Perrin said.

"I do love them," she told him. "I do."

Near sunset, Perrin and Jenny escaped from the big house on the hill and made their way down the twisty trail to the beach. It was windy and the temperature had dropped. Jenny felt fat in her big coat, but Perrin rarely felt the cold and wore nothing more than a silver cashmere sweater and jeans.

The sun was white behind a thin layer of clouds, and the water glittered as though scattered with diamonds and starlight. Jenny gripped Perrin's hand, and they walked slowly and carefully through the sand, over driftwood and stone, until they came to the spot.

"I'm sure this is it. I came here every day, every summer, for years." Jenny clutched his arm, pressing her cheek against him. When he said nothing, when he remained so still, she glanced at his face and found his jaw tight, his eyes hard and heavy as he stared at that patch of sand.

Slowly, with infinite care, Perrin knelt and drew Jenny down beside him. They sat together, side by side, holding each other's hands, staring at the sea, and the sky and water was silver and full of light, and it was the dream. Only this time, when Jenny turned to look at Perrin, she could see his face, his eyes, and when she wanted to kiss him, he met her halfway, hungry and hard, and hot.

Her heart was so full. The kra'a hummed inside their minds. And when Perrin unzipped her coat, and pushed up her sweater to expose her round stomach to the ocean air, she leaned back on her elbows and laughed.

"This is where you began," he told their baby. "Once upon a time."

"There was a girl who loved a boy from the sea," said Jenny, smiling. "And they found each other in dreams."

About the Author.

MARJORIE M. LIU is an attorney and New York Times bestselling author of paranormal romances and urban fantasy. In the world of comic books, she is also the writer of NYX: No Way Home, Black Widow, X-23, and Dark Wolverine (with Daniel Way, for Marvel). She lives in the American Midwest and Beijing, China. For more information, please visit her website at www.marjoriemliu.com.

By Marjorie M. Liu.

In the Dark of Dreams.

The Fire King.

The Wild Road.

The Last Twilight Soul Song.

Eye of Heaven Dark Dreamers (anthology).

The Red Heart of Jade Shadow Touch A Taste of Crimson (Crimson City Series).

Tiger Eye.

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