Exit Light by Megan Hart Page A

next-door had gone on—the neighbors had set it to trigger at movement and apparently had never considered that its path shot directly into her bedroom window. Nor had they disconnected it when they moved away. She could have dealt with it being always on, but the sudden random glare never failed to smack her awake. She muttered a curse and steadfastly closed her eyes. The light went out a moment later.
    When the phone rang, her eyes flew open and her heart tried to leap out of her throat. She grabbed up the phone, the lighted keypad showing the identity of her late-night caller. She didn’t recognize the number, though the name was familiar.
    “Ben?” She cradled the phone against her cheek.
    “We’re waiting for you,” Ben said, voice tinny through the speaker. “What are you doing?”
    “I can’t fall—oh, shit.” Tovah looked around at her dark bedroom. “I am asleep. Where are you?”
    “With Spider.”
    “I’m in bed,” she said.
    Ben was silent for a moment, but when he spoke he sounded amused. “I know. We can see you.”
    She looked around again and pulled the sheet up to cover her nightgown, a silly reaction since she only needed to shape herself as fully clothed if she wanted to. “I don’t see you.”
    “You’re not looking hard enough.”
    She stuck up her middle finger. “Can you see that?”
    “Nice,” said Ben. “Very nice.”
    “Stop fooling around, Tovahleh.” A corner of the room brightened to reveal Spider. He looked impossibly huge and fantastic in the normal setting of her bedroom, but at the sight she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
    What an undiminished joy it was to get out of bed and stand, solid, on two feet. She took a moment to cherish the feeling of the soft rag rug beneath her toes. In the waking world she’d put the rug, which had been hand-knotted by her favorite grandmother, into the guest room after it had slid out from under her one too many times. Now she didn’t fear falling.
    Tovah stretched, shaping light where there had been dark. She unshaped the walls and floor, putting herself onto soft green grass and under blue skies. Ben and Spider thought she didn’t practice her shaping enough, that she spent too much time playing in clubs and pursuing selfish pursuits. Tovah didn’t deny that she used the Ephemeros to fulfill desires she couldn’t in the waking world—but who didn’t? But what Ben and Spider didn’t seem to see was that she did also hone her skills. Just because she didn’t want to be a guide didn’t mean she didn’t want to improve her control of the dream realm.
    Now she saw Ben standing behind Spider. He stood on a patch of sand. Maybe from the oasis. She took a small amount of triumph in the fact she’d shaped around him, wherever he’d been.
    “The meadow again,” Ben said as she moved toward him and Spider. “I always know it’s you when I see this meadow.”
    “Nobody’s making you stay,” she pointed out. She stopped to pat Spider’s back. “Right?”
    Spider snorted. “Kids, let’s not fight.”
    She’d only meant to tease, but Ben wasn’t smiling. He looked different today. A little paler. His blue shirt was rolled up to his elbows, the fabric rumpled and creased. The hem of his cords had frayed more. He held his right hand under his left elbow, and as she watched, stretched the arm slowly, fingers flexing.
    “What’s the matter with your arm?” she asked.
    Ben looked at Spider and didn’t answer for a minute. “I had a bad dream.”
    Tovah thought about laughing, but he had no humor in his voice. “And you hurt your arm?”
    Ben nodded. He stretched out the arm again, then wiggled his fingers. “I had a run-in with someone bad.”
    “Really?” She moved forward without thinking to take his hand in hers. She probed the tendons of his wrist. “Just now?”
    “No. Before.”
    Before wasn’t a real time, though it made more sense in the Ephemeros than a clock’s hours did. Spider clambered on top