dreaded it. Already this last week he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. Was she well?
She was thinking about him…
A soft shudder coursed the length of his frame. He’d been in her mind, seen who she was on every level. He knew her as well as she knew herself, and he’d liked what he saw and craved more time in her company.
The conflicting desires to be with her and to avoid her goaded him with equal strength. Like a banquet of desserts set before a hungry man—although he knew an attachment to Lyssa would satisfy, it wasn’t good for him and he would only end up hungrier. The turmoil he was experiencing proved that.
“If you will not go, Cross, you will leave us with no choice.”
The threat hung heavy in the air. The request to revisit a Dreamer was not unheard of, but it was very rare and it had never been asked of an Elite Warrior before. He steeled his resolve. He could manage to hold himself aloof, just as he’d done forever. “Of course I’ll go.”
“You will be assigned to her until she opens to other Guardians.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. “But I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Yes, your leadership will be missed,” the voice conceded. “However, this woman is unique in her ability to bar both Nightmare and Guardian with that door. We must know why she does this, and how. Perhaps it is a skill we can replicate in other Dreamers. Imagine the benefits if they could defend themselves.”
“That’s not all.” He stilled mid-stride and faced them. “If goodwill was your aim, you would assign a Healer or Nurturer to coax her out.”
Instead they sent a man known for his aloofness and ability to kill with precision.
There was silence. Then, “If she is the Key, you are best equipped to eliminate her.”
His blood ran cold. To think that stupid legend would lead to the death of a woman as sweet and pure as Lyssa Bates made his stomach roil. Every day that passed, Aidan hated his calling more and more. The killing of those who were ruined by madness or inherent evil like the Nightmares was becoming hard enough. If they were now to kill innocents, he didn’t know how he would bear it.
“You stayed with her, Cross. You could have withdrawn, allowed another to comfort her. You have only yourself to blame for this mission.”
He held his open palms out to them. “What’s happened to us that we, the Guardians of the innocents, would now kill simply because we don’t understand?”
“The Key must be found and destroyed,” the Elders intoned in unison.
“Forget the damn Key!” he yelled, his voice booming through the domed space, causing the Elders to recoil as one body. “You, who are so wise, can’t see the truth even though it’s staring you in the face. There is no Key! It’s a dream. A myth. A delusion.”
He pointed an accusing finger at them. “You want to live on false hope instead of facing the facts. You want to believe that there is some miraculous thing out there that will absolve you of the guilt you feel in bringing the Nightmares here. But we have nothing more than our will to fight, and we are wasting energy searching for what doesn’t exist. The war will never be over! Ever. We can only continue to save whom we can. What’ll we become if good is killed along with evil for a lie?
“Unless,” his voice lowered ominously, “there’s something you’re not telling us. Some proof.”
The silence that followed his outburst was deafening, but he didn’t take it back. He had only spoken the obvious.
Finally, someone spoke. “You did not tell us of your crisis of faith, Captain Cross,” came the far too calm rejoinder. “But all things come in good time, and this mission is even more suitable for you now that we are aware of your feelings.”
Locking himself away sounded better and better to him, too. “Fine. I’ll go to her now. And I’ll continue to go to her until you tell me otherwise.”
He hoped they would come to their collective senses