to them. They grew more violent and cruel. Their eyes began to change color. They stopped eating."
"Oh man…"
"We realized then what had happened. The Nightmares inside them were taking over, urging the Guardian into acts of terror so they could feed off those negative emotions."
Since the Nightmares had discovered the human subconscious through the fissure created by the Elders, they'd been using the power of the human mind as sustenance. Fear, fury, misery
—
these were easily aroused through dreams and fed Nightmares so well
.
Lowering his sword, Connor freed one hand to scrub at his jaw. "How many of those things are there?"
"There were a dozen in the original trial, but only one affected Guardian remained alive and you killed him today."
"Be thankful for small favors, eh?" Connor snorted.
Sheron removed the scabbard belt from his too-lean waist and emptied the water that had collected inside it. Then he sheathed his glaive and moved to a nearby rock, leaving a trail of droplets in his wake.
"What aren't you telling me?" Connor followed with glaive in hand. He didn't trust
Sheron as far as he could throw him. Not any more. Sad, considering he had once trusted the man with his life.
"What I came here to tell you." The Elder settled onto a large
rock and spread out his sodden robes as much as possible. "The trial was deemed a success before the symptoms of Nightmare possession began to present themselves. We were testing for successful round-trips, not side-effects. An additional contingent of guards and Elders were sent through before we understood the extent of the problem."
Connor's gut tightened into a hard knot. "Well, yank them all back, damn it!"
"We cannot. By the time we comprehended the error, the Guardians had altered so much they were incapable of returning upon their threads. They were no longer the same individuals who departed. We were able to retrieve only the unaffected ones."
"What the hell have you done? How many of those things are out there?"
"Ten of the lot were unable to return. We have sent twenty more through since then. A gamble. Those who are unaffected will hunt those who are and put them down. Cross will expect the Guardians to search for him, but there is no way for him to know about the hybrids."
Before the rebellion, Aidan had been Captain and Connor had been his lieutenant. Together, they had run the Elite with faultless precision. Life had seemed so simple then. Now, everything was complicated.
"Why are you telling me this?" Connor asked suspiciously.
"Cross's death is not something I want."
"But you want the Key dead," Connor argued. "And you'll have to kill Cross to get to the Key, I promise you that."
"We will manage that when the time comes."
"Like hell you will!" Connor launched himself like a missile, flying through the air and slamming into the Elder's chest with his shoulder.
The Elder would make a great hostage. They tumbled, rolling across the sand
—
Gasping, Connor jolted awake, which also woke the warm curvy woman lying in his arms.
"Hey." Stacey's voice was husky from sleep. In the faint glow from the muted television, he saw her head turn toward him. They lay on the sofa; him against the back, her against him. "Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"
He pushed up and climbed over her carefully. "Yeah."
"Want me to make you some hot tea or something?"
"No." Bending, he kissed her forehead. "Go back to sleep. I just remembered something important and I better write it down before I forget it again."
Connor moved over to the breakfast bar, turned on the recessed spotlights above it, and grabbed the notepad he'd seen there earlier. Then he pulled a chair back from the dining table, borrowed the mechanical pencil lying atop Stacey's textbooks, and turned his attention to finding a clean sheet of paper.
As he flipped through pages of lovingly drawn renderings of Aidan, Connor's heartbeat slowed. His breathing deepened and became more regular.
"Oh man…"
"We realized then what had happened. The Nightmares inside them were taking over, urging the Guardian into acts of terror so they could feed off those negative emotions."
Since the Nightmares had discovered the human subconscious through the fissure created by the Elders, they'd been using the power of the human mind as sustenance. Fear, fury, misery
—
these were easily aroused through dreams and fed Nightmares so well
.
Lowering his sword, Connor freed one hand to scrub at his jaw. "How many of those things are there?"
"There were a dozen in the original trial, but only one affected Guardian remained alive and you killed him today."
"Be thankful for small favors, eh?" Connor snorted.
Sheron removed the scabbard belt from his too-lean waist and emptied the water that had collected inside it. Then he sheathed his glaive and moved to a nearby rock, leaving a trail of droplets in his wake.
"What aren't you telling me?" Connor followed with glaive in hand. He didn't trust
Sheron as far as he could throw him. Not any more. Sad, considering he had once trusted the man with his life.
"What I came here to tell you." The Elder settled onto a large
rock and spread out his sodden robes as much as possible. "The trial was deemed a success before the symptoms of Nightmare possession began to present themselves. We were testing for successful round-trips, not side-effects. An additional contingent of guards and Elders were sent through before we understood the extent of the problem."
Connor's gut tightened into a hard knot. "Well, yank them all back, damn it!"
"We cannot. By the time we comprehended the error, the Guardians had altered so much they were incapable of returning upon their threads. They were no longer the same individuals who departed. We were able to retrieve only the unaffected ones."
"What the hell have you done? How many of those things are out there?"
"Ten of the lot were unable to return. We have sent twenty more through since then. A gamble. Those who are unaffected will hunt those who are and put them down. Cross will expect the Guardians to search for him, but there is no way for him to know about the hybrids."
Before the rebellion, Aidan had been Captain and Connor had been his lieutenant. Together, they had run the Elite with faultless precision. Life had seemed so simple then. Now, everything was complicated.
"Why are you telling me this?" Connor asked suspiciously.
"Cross's death is not something I want."
"But you want the Key dead," Connor argued. "And you'll have to kill Cross to get to the Key, I promise you that."
"We will manage that when the time comes."
"Like hell you will!" Connor launched himself like a missile, flying through the air and slamming into the Elder's chest with his shoulder.
The Elder would make a great hostage. They tumbled, rolling across the sand
—
Gasping, Connor jolted awake, which also woke the warm curvy woman lying in his arms.
"Hey." Stacey's voice was husky from sleep. In the faint glow from the muted television, he saw her head turn toward him. They lay on the sofa; him against the back, her against him. "Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"
He pushed up and climbed over her carefully. "Yeah."
"Want me to make you some hot tea or something?"
"No." Bending, he kissed her forehead. "Go back to sleep. I just remembered something important and I better write it down before I forget it again."
Connor moved over to the breakfast bar, turned on the recessed spotlights above it, and grabbed the notepad he'd seen there earlier. Then he pulled a chair back from the dining table, borrowed the mechanical pencil lying atop Stacey's textbooks, and turned his attention to finding a clean sheet of paper.
As he flipped through pages of lovingly drawn renderings of Aidan, Connor's heartbeat slowed. His breathing deepened and became more regular.
Similar Books
