Page 61 of Darkness

“It happened two days after I left. I lost my whole family. What you call mother, father, sister, and brother-in-law. Plus, my sister’s spawn. I mean, children. Three of them.”

“And your lover.”

“And my lover. I still wonder what happened. Were they in pain at the end? Did they cry out for me? I should have been with them.”

“Then you’d be gone too.” Which bothered Morrisey for some odd reason. Finding someone else alone resonated. Misery loved company.

“If I’d properly joined with my lover like they wanted, I wouldn’t have survived their death.”

What the fuck could Morrisey possibly say? “Didn’t Leary say no one knows what happened to those who disappeared? What if they’re still alive somewhere?”

“They’re not.” Farren spoke with surety.

“How can you be sure?”

Farren met Morrisey’s gaze, a world of hurt shining in shimmering eyes. “Because I can’t find them in my dreams.”

***

I can’t find them in my dreams.

The words still resonated long after Farren departed. He’d looked for family in his dreams. And found Morrisey, if their dreams really were connected. Morrisey had never dreamed so vividly before.

What did it all mean?

Morrisey hadn’t been in his room alone for even a half-hour before a knock sounded at the door. So much for settling in. He opened the door to find the receptionist—what was her name? Arianna?—her arms laden with cloth.

And her weird-as-hell goat’s eyes if he looked too closely.

“Hi!” Arianna entered the room like a whirling force of nature. “Can I come in?” She’d already whisked inside before asking.

Morrisey shifted his gaze back and forth between the open door and the tiny creature. “Can I stop you?”

Arianna’s smile never faltered. “Of course not.” She breezed across the room in three strides and placed her burden on the bed. “If you’re like me, you were sick of institutional gray within five minutes of walking into this place.” She exaggerated a shudder. “Lucky for you, I’m here.”

“Lucky how?” A headache settled in behind Morrisey’s eyes.

“You’ll see.” A calming scent hit Morrisey’s nose the moment Arianna opened her bundle. She pulled out two bars of soap and a candle. “Sandalwood. Conveys a feeling of connectedness. Or so the label says. So much better than the soap stocked in the bathroom and less likely to remove your skin. The candle chases back the staleness.” She wrinkled her nose in a cute way that probably had most men stumbling over their feet to do her bidding. “This room hasn’t been used in a while.”

She bustled about the place, spreading a crocheted blanket on the bed in shades of blue—Morrisey’s favorite color—artfully arranged two books on the nightstand and added a colorful coffee mug by the single cup coffeemaker on the counter. Next, she placed a plastic container nearby. “I hope you like oatmeal cookies. I was all out of chocolate chips.”

The whole redecorating took less than five minutes. The place did appear homier. “When you’re ready, you can tell me all about yourself, but I promised Farren I’d give you time to adjust before, how did he put it?” Arianna tapped the tip of her index finger against her chin. “Oh, right. Before I overwhelm you with my unwanted presence. Now, I’m a gamer, have tons of games, and hope you’ll come hang out sometime. Do you like Halo? Farren sucks at Halo. Don’t tell him I said so. I’d rather have poor competition than none at all. Okay. I gotta go.” She opened the door, then turned back. “Oh, yeah. Welcome to the team!”

She swept out the door, a tiny, rambling dynamo, somehow leaving Morrisey exhausted.

That was a demon? Since when did demons bring cookies and not ask for your soul?

No. Not demon. Traveler.

And talker. If they were all like Farren and Arianna, though, Morrisey wouldn't be here to discover why demons killed.

Had nearly killed him.

Even knowing he was alone, Morrisey glanced behind him, in the closet and under the bed before pulling out the gizmos he’d bought from his barber’s friend’s cousin or some shit, sweeping the room for bugs and cameras. Either FAET got their hands on some truly sophisticated devices standard detectors couldn’t find, or they hadn’t bothered with surveillance in this room.

All they’d see was a man slowly drinking himself into an early grave and a healthy dose of hand-on-gland action.

Morrisey noticed a long, typed list of rules taped to the door. No smoking. No liquor. No drugs.

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