Page 38 of In the Dark

“None of you are getting good dreams tonight,” he admonished the Claddium. “I don’t give a hoot if it’s warranted or not.” Morgan turned on his heel and strode off.

A normal man would have trouble carrying a woman in his arms for so long. Morgan was no ordinary man. He’d have to remember to send his father a gift and thank him. It was one of the only times he was grateful to be half a god.

Thank goodness he’d been there for her meltdown. Karsia could have brought down the entire lakeside, not just the street, if someone hadn’t stopped her. Who knew she was capable of such ferocity? Extraordinary circumstances changed people. Brought out the beast. He didn’t blame her in the least for her feelings, but to have someone taint them, use them against her? He had no choice but to intervene.

Morgan found them a quiet place to relax. Rather, he found a back alley with a dumpster next to a grate of hot sewer billowing up in yellow plumes. It was high time he did a bit of digging outside the conventional means. Past time, more like. There was a certain person he needed to speak with and it would take some maneuvering to find her.

Somewhere in the depths of the infinite possibilities, Karsia lurked. The real her, the immortal essence of who she was and ever would be.

“This will have to do. You and I are having a good, long talk. The sooner the better.” Morgan settled them both down with his back against the brick of a neighboring building. He cuddled Karsia close and rested his head, blocking out the cold. “Time to go find you, little girl.”

With that, Morgan closed his eyes and went hunting.

Walking in dreams was nothing like traversing the mortal realm. In dreams, there were infinite possibilities. Not forward or back, left or right, up or down. Planes stretched out in every direction imaginable. The subconscious was the ultimate form of expression. A blank canvas for worries and goals. Hopes and fears.

Thankfully, this land was his playground. He’d moved through it since his conception and been given dominion over it even with his mixed blood. Keeping his form the same, he searched the empty landscape. It would be easier for her to recognize him.

Her subconscious would remain in stasis—the blank canvas—until he took up his brush once more and painted images for her. There was no sound unless he willed it, no color until he decided it.

He’d come to better understand the nature of what possessed her. The creature who walked in darkness, the shadow he’d seen before and the she the Cavaldi sisters spoke about. This shadow spoke through Karsia’s mouth and stared through her eyes. It looked, acted, and thought through her. In some aspects, it was Karsia. A perverse and twisted version. Whatever lurked beneath the surface, whether it be an impossible spirit or ghost or god from the world of ancient magicks, it had pushed the essence of Karsia aside.

He did what any good sleuth would do: He followed the clues.

Morgan clipped along, allowing his footsteps to echo in the empty void. He stopped, hands on his hips. “This isn’t going to work.” He snapped his fingers and plush grass rose from the blankness. Overhead the sky turned blue and wispy white clouds burst to life. “Better.”

So he walked on.

It may have been minutes, perhaps hours, until he spotted a solitary figure standing in a meadow. That was how she should always look, he decided. Delicate, innocent, and surrounded by wildflowers, with the hint of golden sun adding depth to her wild hair. She’d lifted her face to the glow and absorbed it through her skin, a smile playing on her lips.

Morgan couldn’t help his reaction to her. And if he were honest, he didn’t want to help it. He felt a pull below his heart. It drew him forward, toward her, his reaction doubled in this plane of existence. Heightened from what had already begun to grow between them.

He found her attractive, though it went far beyond simply appreciating her beauty. It was a knowing. A recognition greater than words had the ability to express.

Undeniably, they were meant for each other.

Holy. Crap.

The great Morpheus. God of Dreams. Brought to his knees. Heart cleaved in two by a simple earth witch. He’d found his destiny staring at him from behind soulless black eyes.

The gravity of the moment stole his breath. He focused on his joy at finding her and pushed the weightier emotions aside.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a blast of sound. “Karsia!”

She turned swiftly, eyes impossibly large and swimming with tears despite the smile. Here she wore simple jeans and a t-shirt, whatever outfit she found most comfortable.

“Morgan?”

The tenderness, the vulnerability, shattered his already aching heart. “It’s me. Oh, you sweet, wonderful woman, it’s me.” Morgan let out a breath and shook his head.

To his surprise she ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

Breathing her in, Morgan took her in his embrace and lifted her feet off the ground. She felt impossibly good. This was the woman he’d seen only in glimpses. The impossibly cheerful golden girl of the Chicago streets.

“I don’t know how this is possible. But I’m glad you’re here!” She tightened her hold infinitesimally, breathing him into her lungs. “So glad you’re here. You have no idea.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me after everything that’s happened.” He tightened his grip once before releasing her. She slid down the front of his body until his heart quickened and his groin tightened. Inappropriate, he admonished himself, and willed his nether regions to stand down. “Before we say anything else,” he told her, “you have to know that none of this was your fault. Whatever happened and whatever will happen, you are not to blame.”

“I have no magic to heal my mother,” she began, voice cracking. “And those people I hurt—”

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