The Dreamer's Curse (Book 2) by Honor Raconteur

undid
his grip on the door handle. Almost gingerly this time he knocked again. The
process repeated of someone on the other side unlocking the bolts and opening
the portal, but this time, it was a normal smile that greeted them. “Well,
hello!”
    Sevana looked at him suspiciously. Two of the personalities
she had a hard time differentiating between because on the surface, they were
similar. Jensen reacted like Jacen in many ways, but where Jacen was a
competent Artifactor, Jensen was a walking disaster. She didn’t know which man
she had in front of her. “Hello,” she greeted. “It’s been a while.”
    “It has,” Jacen (?) agreed, smile widening. “Come in, come
in. It’s unexpected to see you here together. Is this business, or…?”
    “We have come here for help,” Sarsen admitted. (Sevana noted
the omission of ‘your help’ with interest. Sarsen didn’t know who they spoke
with either, eh?) “We’ve come across a very troublesome artifact that dates
from the eighth century.”
    “Ohhh,” he responded, eyes lighting up. “Do tell. Still
active and functioning?”
    “Unfortunately,” Sevana grumbled.
    Their host glanced at her, frown passing quickly over his
face. “I sense a long story coming. Here, come in, let’s sit while you
explain.”
    He waved them through the foyer and into another room, this
one pleasantly decorated with landscapes on the walls and comfortable furniture
arrayed around the room. Sevana took an armchair and sank into it with a sigh
of leather, Sarsen taking the armchair next to hers. Their host sat across from
them, taking an aging armchair that had seen better days and propping his feet
up on a mismatched ottoman.
    “So, tell me what’s going on.”
    Sevana dutifully explained, not skipping any of the
particulars, and started from when Decker had first come to her with a request
for help. She went through everything until yesterday when Sarsen had arrived,
ending with, “I have detailed diagnostics and scans for you to look at, since I
can’t bring the artifact itself.”
    Jacen (?) had listened intently to all of this, hands
clasped in front of his chin, eyes trained on her. “Fascinating. You know, I do
believe I read about something like this. Hold on a moment, would you? Let me
fetch it. I believe I remember which book it was in.” Without waiting for a
response, he leaped lightly out of the chair and scurried off, heading for the
back of the building.
    In a low tone, Sevana asked, “Is it Jacen or Jensen we’re
dealing with?”
    “I can’t tell,” Sarsen growled. “They’re so alike in some
ways. And he hasn’t moved around enough, or said enough, for me to spot any
differences.”
    “And if it is Jensen?” She hated to think about that, but
had to. “He’s already switched personalities three times in the past fifteen
minutes, which has to be a new record for him. Typically his personalities stay
for several hours at a time.”
    “Which means we’d need to stay and wait here for several
hours before he could possibly switch to Jacen.”
    “Or Jocelin,” she said in resignation. “Or Jaston.”
    “I normally don’t mind all of this, but it sure makes matters
difficult when it’s Jacen we need to speak with.” Sarsen rubbed at his
eyes with the pads of his fingers. “And we’re facing a dangerous situation, to
boot. I surely do wish Master could find a way to regulate Jacen’s mind.”
    She shook her head. “The mind is a strange thing, stranger
than anything else, and no one understands it. We still don’t know why Jacen’s
mind broke in the first place. Besides, most of the time I find his other
personalities entertaining.”
    “That’s because you have a twisted sense of humor.”
    Sevana laughed and didn’t even try to deny it.
    From somewhere deep within the building, a roar of flame
burst out, flashing down the hallway with blue-green light. Tremors rocked
through the house, shaking everything so that the glass windows rattled,