Page 83 of The Wild Moon
“It’s you,” I said, feeling slightly faint. “You’re here. You came. From my dreams. Now you’re here.”
“Actually, you’ve got it somewhat wrong,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“I didn’t come to you,” he corrected. “You came to me. To my world.”
“Your world?” I said, voice failing me on the last syllable. “Wherearewe? This isn’t my dream.”
Giant Sex Machine shook his head, sending that beautiful, shiny hair of his flying. “I was never in your dreams. You came here. Visited.”
“And now I’m here for real,” I said, trying to comprehend what he was telling me.
“Yes.”
“And it’s you. You’re the same person?” I was going in logic circles, but I didn’t care. I think those sorts of things are excused when you’re transported to another world.
“Yes.”
“But why? How?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” he said, looking troubled. “But your presence will have attracted attention.”
I recalled the empty, desolate nature of his world. “Attention? From whom? There’s nobody else out there.”
Dream Man, or was it Dreamy Man? I didn’t know yet, didn’t respond to my question. Apparently, some secrets were still his to keep.
“Where are we anyway?”
“A safe place,” he rumbled, waving a hand around.
I really focused on the room we were in. I’d been so overwhelmed by everything that had happened that I hadn’t really processed any of it.
We were in the center of a circular room, standing on a stone platform. There were faint lines written in the rock below us, which I figured must be some sort of runes, which allowed him to do that stomach-churningpooftrick. Three wooden bridges, perhaps eight feet long, arced up and over a flowing river of water that split around the platform.
A variety of plants grew along the banks, adding flowers and color to the room. The walls and ceiling were rock, which meant, I assumed, we were underground. I continued turning.
“Oh,wow,” I said, suitably impressed at the roaring fire in the middle of a semi-circle of seats and couches, all of which were laid out in front of two long walls full of books, meeting at a sharp corner. “Nowthatis a private library. Damn.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Mr. Mysterious said with a chuckle.
It was the first positive sound I’d heard from him. Maybe he wasn’t going to kill me for intruding on his solitude after all.
“Absolutely,” I said, noting an area near the reading chairs filled with more personal items. Some tokens, statuettes, paintings, and even a giant tapestry that hung from the rock wall and marked the outer edge of his lair, for lack of a better word.
Across the underground river, there was an area filled with what could only be workout equipment. Weights, dummies holding weapons, things of that nature. I’m not sure why he needed that, considering he could shoot fire and use his fists to carve rock, but I wasn’t about to ask.
“Shit, where were you a week ago?” I said, staring at the next area. It was piled high with gold coins and bars while the firelight flickered off items that reflected blue, green, even red. Precious stones, they had to be. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires.
It wasn’t all treasure, though. Rows of weapons lay racked against the wall. Swords, spears, suits of armor, whose origins I didn’t recognize, and more. Some of it didn’t even look human.
I had to admit, his lair was impressive and had a sense of grandeur about it, despite its welcoming, and almost cozy, feeling. Somehow, he managed to combine it all.
“Whereisthis place?” I repeated.
“It’s safe,” he assured me. “Somewhere you can rest. And recover.”
“Recover?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the library to stare back at Mr. Mysterious.
