And I know it’s not because he’s afraid, but because of us—because of me. I have that effect on him. And that makes me happy. Because he does that to me, too. I don’t want this dream to end. Not like this. Not again.
I shake my head. “No. It’s my dream. I control it.”
I hear Dr. Koios’s voice. “Iris, it’s time for you to come out of your dream. You must come back to us now.”
Not yet. I steal one more kiss from him. A deep kiss, as if it’s the last kiss I will ever have with him. The last kiss of my entire life. “Aphrodite says you must cross the River of Sorrows to exist in my world, but I can’t let you do it. Stay here. Promise me. Stay here, and I will keep finding you. Now that I know how. Now that we have”—I search for the word—“this connection. It will be easier.”
Easier, I think. Nothing about this is easy. And always there is the threat of Epiales.
“No!” he says furiously.
I look at Sebastian, my protector. My personal guardian. “I would come here for you, every night,” I whisper, even as I hear the words and know what that would mean. I would sleep. Like my mother.
He puts his hands on my shoulders. “You don’t want to be like your mother and Morpheus. All of the Underworld, all of the dreamworld, the Olympians, they all know how he aches for her. He mourns her when she is not here. But if he leaves his throne for her, if he makes that sacrifice, then Epiales will take his crown. The balance will be destroyed. There will be no more dreams, only darkness. The human world will be rendered in nightmares.”
I think of what that would mean. If there was no more peaceful sleep, if every night people had only the most horrid of nightmares. But before I can ask more questions, from far off in the museum, I hear deep voices.
Next, the sounds of footfalls, like many men running on the marble floors.
“Iris . . . you must come back to Annie and me now.”
“Please, Iris,” Annie’s voice begs me. “Please, come back. Right now.”
I look around. I don’t see an exit. The room we are in is actually an anteroom. Our only choice is to go into the main hall, and there we’ll be easy to spot. I start to panic. But then I remember. This is my dream, and I have the power.
Holding hands, we step into the main concourse. I see thirty or forty men, dressed like soldiers, running toward us from the far end of the museum. I grab Sebastian’s hand. I know Dr. Koios says I can stop and ask someone why he’s chasing me, but in my gut, I have a feeling that this is not the time. Not here, not in this dream.
“Run!” I say to him. We race through the museum. We run left, then right, through exhibits and rooms full of priceless art. It’s a giant maze. Every time I think we have reached a room that might buy us freedom, I am deceived. We run from room to room, portraits of gods and goddesses, kings and chiefs, maidens and lions, soldiers and farmers a blur of oil on canvas. We pass sunsets and flowers, marble busts and gold-inlaid drinking vessels. But it’s a dizzying array, and behind me, I hear the voices of our pursuers gaining on us.
“There’s no escape,” Sebastian shouts. “We’re trapped!”
We turn a corner. We are in the great hall of antiquities. All around us are ancient mummies and statues of civilizations long fallen. We cannot go back the way we came. The soldiers are coming.
“Come on,” I yell. This is my dream. Sebastian and I duck behind a stone sarcophagus in the corner. We crouch down. Soldiers enter the hall. My heart thumps, and I think they will hear its beat alone. But their footsteps pass us, and they run on to the next exhibit.
Follow me, I mouth. We creep from behind the sarcophagus and tiptoe across the hall. But as we move into the open, a soldier retraces his steps and spots us.
“They’re here!”
Sebastian pulls me behind a tall stone statue of a Roman god. As we take cover, I hear the sounds of gunfire, so loud and so close my ears
I shake my head. “No. It’s my dream. I control it.”
I hear Dr. Koios’s voice. “Iris, it’s time for you to come out of your dream. You must come back to us now.”
Not yet. I steal one more kiss from him. A deep kiss, as if it’s the last kiss I will ever have with him. The last kiss of my entire life. “Aphrodite says you must cross the River of Sorrows to exist in my world, but I can’t let you do it. Stay here. Promise me. Stay here, and I will keep finding you. Now that I know how. Now that we have”—I search for the word—“this connection. It will be easier.”
Easier, I think. Nothing about this is easy. And always there is the threat of Epiales.
“No!” he says furiously.
I look at Sebastian, my protector. My personal guardian. “I would come here for you, every night,” I whisper, even as I hear the words and know what that would mean. I would sleep. Like my mother.
He puts his hands on my shoulders. “You don’t want to be like your mother and Morpheus. All of the Underworld, all of the dreamworld, the Olympians, they all know how he aches for her. He mourns her when she is not here. But if he leaves his throne for her, if he makes that sacrifice, then Epiales will take his crown. The balance will be destroyed. There will be no more dreams, only darkness. The human world will be rendered in nightmares.”
I think of what that would mean. If there was no more peaceful sleep, if every night people had only the most horrid of nightmares. But before I can ask more questions, from far off in the museum, I hear deep voices.
Next, the sounds of footfalls, like many men running on the marble floors.
“Iris . . . you must come back to Annie and me now.”
“Please, Iris,” Annie’s voice begs me. “Please, come back. Right now.”
I look around. I don’t see an exit. The room we are in is actually an anteroom. Our only choice is to go into the main hall, and there we’ll be easy to spot. I start to panic. But then I remember. This is my dream, and I have the power.
Holding hands, we step into the main concourse. I see thirty or forty men, dressed like soldiers, running toward us from the far end of the museum. I grab Sebastian’s hand. I know Dr. Koios says I can stop and ask someone why he’s chasing me, but in my gut, I have a feeling that this is not the time. Not here, not in this dream.
“Run!” I say to him. We race through the museum. We run left, then right, through exhibits and rooms full of priceless art. It’s a giant maze. Every time I think we have reached a room that might buy us freedom, I am deceived. We run from room to room, portraits of gods and goddesses, kings and chiefs, maidens and lions, soldiers and farmers a blur of oil on canvas. We pass sunsets and flowers, marble busts and gold-inlaid drinking vessels. But it’s a dizzying array, and behind me, I hear the voices of our pursuers gaining on us.
“There’s no escape,” Sebastian shouts. “We’re trapped!”
We turn a corner. We are in the great hall of antiquities. All around us are ancient mummies and statues of civilizations long fallen. We cannot go back the way we came. The soldiers are coming.
“Come on,” I yell. This is my dream. Sebastian and I duck behind a stone sarcophagus in the corner. We crouch down. Soldiers enter the hall. My heart thumps, and I think they will hear its beat alone. But their footsteps pass us, and they run on to the next exhibit.
Follow me, I mouth. We creep from behind the sarcophagus and tiptoe across the hall. But as we move into the open, a soldier retraces his steps and spots us.
“They’re here!”
Sebastian pulls me behind a tall stone statue of a Roman god. As we take cover, I hear the sounds of gunfire, so loud and so close my ears
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