CHAPTER 5

For an age now, the simulated lightening of the sky had filled Aidan with relief. It meant his shift was over. Another day had passed. He could travel up the hill to his home and try to forget that the endless days before him would be just like the last.

But today the incremental passing of time set his heart pumping in unsteady measure. He paced his covered porch like a caged animal.

Tick tock, tick tock. Like the clocks he had seen in the remembrances of Dreamers. In a matter of hours, Lyssa would fall asleep again, and someone would be sent to her. When she denied them entry, it would force the

collective hand of the Elders and they would go after her en masse.

He had to find a portal between his world and Lyssa's, and he had to find it

now.

The possible risks were no deterrent. Aidan was decided. There were no options, no choices. If he didn't go, Lyssa would die.

Where to begin? Aidan's curiosity had led to months of researching data in the Hall of Knowledge, and he'd found only vague references to fissure creation in a few of them.

Aidan didn't have months.

"You've got that look on your face," muttered a voice behind him.

Glancing aside, Aidan found Connor ascending the short steps to the porch. "I think I've found what some might consider to be the Key."

Connor reached the deck and shook off the dewy blades of grass that clung to his robe's hem. "I thought you said the Key doesn't exist."

"She doesn't." Aidan shook his head. " It doesn't. Or if it does, it sure as hell isn't Lyssa."

"Okay… ?"

"Lyssa can see me," Aidan explained.

Connor's eyes narrowed. "You're certain?" "She drew a picture of me."

The low whistle that rent the still morning was filled with things that did not need to be said aloud—surprise, worry, and a heavy dose of chastisement. "I hope you're planning to step back and let the Elders take over. You should leave this task to someone else."

Aidan paused mid-step, his robes falling to rest around his ankles. "She is

not going to die."

"Cross," Connor warned in a low tone, "stop thinking with your dick."

"You know she's not the Key," Aidan growled. "There's no way in hell Lyssa would open the Gateway. No way for her to even get there. Why should she die to perpetrate a myth?"

"Can you say with absolute certainty that it's a myth?" Connor ran his hand over his jaw. "You thought we'd never find a person with the traits, so of

course it was all bullshit. But now you have found someone. If she's real,

maybe the myth is, too. Are you willing to risk everything and everyone we know for a piece of ass?"

Clenching his fists, Aidan stared at his friend and felt the true weight of his convictions settle on his shoulders. If he didn't have Connor's support, he was completely on his own.

"She's not just a piece of ass. Say that again and see what happens."

"Awww, man." Connor flinched and shook his head. "You've never given any other woman a chance. This is the first time you've spent more than a few hours with one. Trust me. They're all great. If you want a steady fuck, any one of the single Guardians would volunteer. Shit, most of the partnered ones would, too."

"I'm sick of fucking."

Connor stilled, staring at him in obvious stupefaction. "Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"

Aidan's laugh was harsh. "You know me, Bruce. Would I put anyone at risk without a damn good reason?"

"Men aren't the same when they're pussy-whipped. You know that. "You've seen it."

Walking to end of the porch, Aidan set his hands on the wooden rail and watched as the sky grew lighter. Tick tock. He hadn't yet bathed, and the scent of hard sex and Lyssa clung to his skin. It riled everything primitive within him, while thrusting home how unique her appeal to him was.

Their time together was not something to be washed away and forgotten. "Look around," Aidan said, his gaze moving over the rolling mountain

view. "None of this is real. It's all an illusion to keep us sane in this conduit."

"And you think what you have with this Dreamer is 'real'?" Connor snorted "It's a dream, Cross.

It's all in your head. You've never touched her, kissed her, fucked her.

"You're living in two different worlds. This, at least, is filled with people you know are 'real.'"

How could he explain? How could he put into words how Lyssa's dream touch was so much more alive to him than another Guardian's?

"She's a veterinarian." Aidan faced his friend. "She has a way with animals and wounded souls.

She loves pasta, especially when it's served with cream sauce and sun-dried tomatoes. She drives too fast and gets a lot of tickets, but she doesn't mind. 'You only live once.' That's her motto. She loves the beach and margaritas,

and looks sexy as hell in a bikini. She's dating a guy named Chad and she likes him, but it's me she wants." The last made him smile.

Connor sank to sit on the top step and dropped his blond head in his hands. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because she's not just a Dreamer, she's real. And when I'm with her , I feel real."

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Connor asked, "What will you do? It's not as if you can pull her from her slipstream and hide her."

Aidan rested his hip against the rail and crossed his arms. "I have to keep Lyssa from entering the Twilight."

"How the fuck… ?" Scowling, Connor shot to his feet.

"No way! No way in hell. You don't even know how the Elders created the fissure the first time."

"They know. It's not as if I have a choice. I don't have enough time to do anything productive here. On the Outside, I can—"

"You can what? The answers you need are in here, not out there." "Yes," Aidan said quietly. "That's true."

Connor's eyes widened. "You want to drag me into this?"

"I'm not asking you for anything. Except your discretion. But if you're feeling altruistic and decide to help me, I won't refuse."

"Cut the crap." Connor shot him a scathing sidelong glance. "I've always been your second.

Damned if I'll stop now. Then it would be my fuckup instead of yours. And

this… This, my friend, is all you."

Aidan's mouth curved with a grateful smile.

Descending the three short steps to the front lawn, Connor began prowling in obvious frustration.

He moved with a warrior's grace, despite his massive size, the weight of which compressed the grass beneath his feet and left a trail in his wake. "What do you need me to do?"

"After I leave, find a way into the Temple of the Elders and access the database. See if you can find a way to bring me back. I've got an idea that will allow me to work on this while I'm gone, but you're right. Most of what I'll need will be here."

"What's your plan for how you're going to reach your Dreamer?" "It's a poor plan, but it's the only one I've got."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Well, I imagine I'll just grab an Elder and hold him hostage until he tells me what I need to do."

Connor jerked to a halt and gaped. " That's your plan? Man… she really rucked your brains out."

"Got a better idea, smart ass?"

"No." Connor kicked at the grass. "But it's a stupid plan. You have no idea if the Elders know what you're after or not."

"Well"—Aidan shrugged—"I'm about to find out."

Dressed for battle in loose trousers and tunic, Aidan slipped into the Temple of the Elders on silent feet. He moved within the shadows, ever conscious of the vids that recorded every visitor.

His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his heart slow and sure. He'd watched as the majority of Elders had departed, leaving behind the lone sentinel whose day it was to remain in secluded meditation. The single

guard at the door was easily distracted by suspicious noises created by Connor, and Aidan slipped behind him and entered the cool, dark harden.

Tick tock. In the deathly silence of the stone edifice, the relentless dwindling of time was inescapable.

Aidan traversed the long hallway that led to the hon-den—a separate part of the Temple complex he doubted had ever felt the feet of a Guardian. The floor beneath him began to waver, growing translucent, revealing a swirling kaleidoscope of colors. The part of him that questioned and researched everything wanted to linger and look, but his heart urged him forward.

He paused a moment on the threshold of an arched entryway, the hairs on his neck rising with acute awareness. The warning was clear, and he never

doubted his instincts. When he leaped into the round room, he was prepared for the glaive that thrust toward him, knocking it aside with a perfectly aimed parry.

He had only a split second to note the walls lined with bound volumes and a large console that dominated the center of the vast space before the gray- robed figure lunged at him again.

"You trespass, Captain," hissed the voice from the shadowed depths of the cowl. Lunging forward, wide sleeves falling back to reveal pale but brawny arms, the Elder fought with surprising ferocity.

Which did not deter Aidan at all. Focused and determined, he was coldly calculated. He had no idea what fueled the Elder, but he was fueled by desperation. Since failure was not an option, he had nothing to lose.

Forward and back, spinning and arching away from gleaming glaives in a macabre dance, neither took the advantage. Aidan wondered at this, his

chest heaving only slightly from his exertions, his body too fit to feel even a hint of fatigue. He needed the Elder alive, but the Elder had no discernible reason for returning the favor.

Soon the Elder, though skilled,' began to tire. He was simply no match for an opponent who held a blade most hours and days of his life. He tripped on

the hem of his robe and fell backward. As his arms flailed, his glaive flew from his hand and went skidding across the stone. Fighting for balance, he slapped his hand palm down on the surface of the center console, setting it ablaze in flashing lights.

Aidan froze in mid-swing as he saw the face revealed when the gray hood was dislodged.

"Master Sheron," he breathed, his sword arm falling.

Then he quickly raised it again, pressing the deadly point against the Elder's rapidly pumping carotid when he reached for the touchpad. "Don't."

"You must let me."

"No." Aidan studied his old teacher with wide eyes.

Pale skin, pure white hair, and pupils so wide and dark they swallowed the whites of his eyes altogether made the mentor he'd known look like a corpse of the vital man he once was.

"If you don't allow me to fix what I've done," Sheron rasped, "We will all die, including your precious Dreamer."

Aidan stilled, his gaze narrowing as a low rumble of sound permeated the soles of his feet and spread upward through his bones. "What the hell… ?"

"If you let me proceed"—Sheron lifted his chin in silent challenge—"I will tell you what you came here to learn."

Growling out a low breath and knowing he didn't have time to argue, Aidan nodded and stepped back, withdrawing his blade. The Elder immediately spun about and worked furiously at the console, eventually entering a combination of keystrokes that turned the flashing lights solid, then blue, and finally off.

Resting his palms on the edge, Sheron visibly collapsed with relief. "You don't have much time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to make it to the lake before your absence is noted." "Explain," Aidan ordered curtly.

"You want to cross over." Sheron reached back and lifted his hood, once again hiding behind the veil of shadows. "Your increasing dissatisfaction has been obvious to us for the last few decades, and your infatuation with the Dreamer has been whispered about for weeks. Your actions today can mean only one thing—you want to be with her rather than do your duty

here."

Lifting his arm, Aidan slipped his glaive into the scabbard that crossed his back. He released a deep breath, wondering if Sheron suspected the true reason he wished to leave. Without the benefit of reading the Elder's facial expressions, there was no way for him to know. The toneless, emotionless voice revealed nothing. "What do I have to do?"

"Search your conscience, You are our best warrior. Your loss will change the balance between Guardians and Nightmares considerably. Morale will plummet. A selfish choice, wouldn't you say?"

"Fuck you." Aidan crossed his arms. "I have given more than enough. I

refuse to feel guilt for wanting something for myself. You hold no hesitation in sucking me dry, yet I'm selfish?"

The quick rise and fall of Sheron's chest was the only sign that he'd struck a chord.

"You will have to travel past the Gateway," the Elder rasped. "Beyond the rise you'll find a lake."

"Yes, I've seen it." Aidan felt his mentor's smile.

"Why am I not surprised? You were always overly curious." "Go on. I don't have time to reminisce."

"When you get to the lake, dive beneath the surface.

You'll see light emanating from a cave. There is a grotto there, tended by two Elders."

"What are they doing down there?"

Sheron held out both hands, palms parallel, just as he once used to do. "In the space between waking and dreaming, there is the place where some

humans come by force. They hover here, more awake than asleep, but not cognizant enough to comprehend. Once we thought the Key would come to us this way. Now we simply guard them from coming too far into this conduit.

Nightmares are predators. They would use that tenuous tie if they could." Aidan frowned, and then his eyes widened. "Hypnosis!"

"Yes." Sheron nodded his approval. "That is what the Dreamers call it." "Is that how we entered here to begin with?"

"No."

Something in the Elder's tone gave him pause. "There is more than one way to make the journey?"

"There is only one way that will allow a lone Guardian to make the journey," came the evasive reply.

"How can I trust you to tell me the truth?"

"How can I trust you not to kill me now that you know?"

There had been occasions when he'd had to act based on faulty or suspect intel, but Aidan never liked it. This time he hated it. If he was sent in the wrong direction…

He caught the Elder by the elbow. "You're coming with me."

"You can't—"

"Yes. I can." He dragged him out of the room and down the hall, making a quick stop at the private Elder library.

"What are you doing?" Sheron snapped, when Aidan went straight to the historical volumes that were omitted from the entirely electronic public Hall of Knowledge.

"Taking answers with me." His fingertips drifted over the spines until he reached the spot where he should have found the text chronicling the two years preceding and directly following their discovery of this conduit.

"Where is it?" "It was lost." "Bullshit."

"It is lost to me," Sheron said dryly. "I have no idea where it is."

Aidan reached up, gripped the hilt of his sword, and withdrew it with quiet deliberation. "I need you alive, but I don't need you healthy."

"You throw aside centuries of living with Guardians who admire and respect you for a few hours spent with a Dreamer?"

"You allowed my discontent to fester with your secrets." Aidan pressed the tip of his blade into Sheron's chest. "Now tell me, Master, where did the

Elders hide the volume I seek?"

"Never. You may have abandoned your people, but I will not."

"As you wish." Aidan grabbed Sheron, and dragged him out into the hall and back toward the control room.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going to bang on the console a bit, get those lights flashing and alarms ringing. Then we'll head toward the lake."

"You cannot do that!" Sheron began to struggle, his eyes wide. "You will destroy everything."

"Hey, you're the one who said I abandoned my people. What do I care if you all blow up like a supernova or whatever the hell it is that's going to happen? I'll be on Earth with my Dreamer."

"Damn you."

Aidan's brows rose. "What'll it be?"

Sheron inhaled harshly, then he gestured back at the library with an impatient jerk of his hand.

Once returned to the vast room, the Elder moved to a case of ancient medical texts and withdrew several, exposing a small door . behind them, which, when opened, revealed the volume Aidan sought.

Collecting it from Sheron's outstretched hand, Aidan slipped it into the pouch strapped to his thigh and sealed it. "Right. Let's go."

Together they walked out to the haiden, where he sent out a low whistle that rose and fell in deliberate rhythm. A moment later, the same sound was returned to him. Connor would follow at a discreet distance.

"There are more than one of you," Sheron said flatly.

"Nope. Just me." Aidan reached the outer courtyard and leaped into the upper Twilight, pulling the struggling Sheron behind him. Gliding rapidly through the mist, he put every ounce of power he had into achieving the fastest possible speed.

The sky was beginning to darken when they reached the lake. Aidan dived straight down, into the icy water that didn't heat even though he wished it to. Beside him, Sheron stilled, allowing them to slice through like a blade. It took a moment to find the grotto, and then they emerged, gasping.

Aidan's first impression was of moss-covered black rock, but a closer inspection showed there was no subterfuge here. As he crawled up over a

shallow ledge, he pulled Sheron out of the water after him, his gaze moving swiftly over the circular console manned by one very startled Elder-in- training. At a nearby desk, another trainee leaped to his feet. Above their heads, scenes flashed like movies, glimpses into the open minds of

thousands of hypnotized people.

He stood, his hostage dripping, and moved to the other men with rapid, near running strides.

Aidan shoved Sheron into the man at the desk, effectively knocking them out of the way, freeing his arm to swing forward with punishing force.

The sickening crack of his fist to the jaw of the trainee at the console was loud and echoed, causing the other to cry out and lunge at him. A quick crouch and upward thrust of his body threw the man back and into the rock wall, where he was rendered as unconscious as his partner.

Rolling his shoulders, Aidan straightened his tunic and caught Sheron with a steely glare. "Get to work."

Unfazed, the Elder moved to the console and sat in a metallic swiveling chair that was anchored to the stone floor. "We have to catch a medium when they are at their deepest state. You will attach yourself to their subconscious, and ride the slipstream into their plane of existence. Once there, the temporal disturbance created by your appearance should cause a… hiccup in time. A brief pause that will allow you to leave the area undetected. That is the theory, anyway."

"The theory?" Aidan arched a brow. "That's the best you can do?" "It is not as if I have done it myself," Sheron pointed out.

Nodding grimly, Aidan asked, "Is there any way to choose a medium who is near to her?" If he arrived on the other side of her world, it could be days

before he reached her. He would not get to her before she fell asleep again. The thought of Lyssa dealing with the banging at the door and sinister- minded cajoling infuriated him and aroused possessive feelings he never

knew he was capable of.

"Where is your lauded patience, Captain?" "Running out," Aidan warned.

Sheron shook his head in silent chastisement. "Lucky for you, the Dreamer you want lives in an area of eccentrics. There is a high concentration of

mediums in California. Understand: once you go, there is no known way to return."

"Quit talking, and do it."

Aidan began to pace, his hands clasped at his lower back, his gaze wandering. Scattered across the nearby desktop were loose-leaf papers and open-faced books. He was about to turn away when an odd glare caught his eye. Wedged beneath the corner was a slim volume boasting a jeweled cover that betrayed its position. A quick glance at Sheron showed the Elder occupied and unaware.

Summoning the book, Aidan flipped through it silently, recognizing the handwritten language of the ancients. He was rusty, but was able to make out enough words to know the book was one he wanted to take with him. One page in particular gave him pause, the reference to "pausing abbreviated space" one of vast interest. Collecting a makeshift bookmark from the desk, Aidan saved the page and slipped the volume into his waistband where his tunic could hide it from view.

"Here," Sheron murmured. "You can catch this stream." He swiveled and set both hands on his knees. With his cowl thrown back, and his white hair wet and sticking out in all directions, he was an odd sight. But his facial

features were familiar, despite their lack of coloring. The sight of them reminded Aidan of the time when they had been mentor and student, and he had been an idealistic youth with great hope for the future. That boy could never have foreseen this event.

"I beg you to reconsider, Captain, You are not the first Guardian to grow an unnatural attachment to a Dreamer. It can be resolved with time."

For a moment Aidan paused, giving his heart and mind a last chance to object.

In the end, he knew he was making the right decision. He hoped he had in his possession the secrets he'd been searching for. Either he would discover that the Elders were correct and he could resume his fight with renewed determination, or he would find out they weren't, in which case he could enlighten the others. He would be helping his people however he looked at

it. He wanted to believe in the Elders, he truly did, but Aidan saw no reason for them to hide information that wasn't incriminating in some way.

And then there was Lyssa, a sweet, wonderful woman who didn't deserve to be dragged into this struggle. A woman who'd already suffered a lifetime of sickness and discomfort because of her dreams.

But what would he find in her plane? A world he knew only from dreams and a lover who would not remember him.

But the possibilities… the chance to be with Lyssa and explore the tentative bond they shared…

to touch her, kiss her, make love to her for real. Skin to skin. The thought was an oasis in an endless existence that had long been as barren as the desert.

"You do not have to do something so drastic," Sheron said in a low, urgent tone.

"Yes," Aidan said with a wry smile. "I do."

Sheron watched Captain Cross move beyond the console to the various

slipstreams that formed pillars of lights connecting the floor to the cavern roof. Without hesitation, Cross stepped into the stream he'd been directed to and vanished, gliding into the semidream state of the chosen medium with an expertise born of eons of practice.

When Sheron was alone, he entered a series of keystrokes and reported, "Cross is gone."

" You did well, Sheron," echoed the collective voice of the other Elders. "

Perfectly executed."

Tilting his head in acknowledgment of the praise, he moved to assist the fallen trainees. As he lowered to a crouch, his gaze moved to the nearby desk. "He took the book."

The feeling of satisfaction was tangible.

"Excellent."

He kept the knowledge about the other volume to himself.