“I don’tjustwant to fuck him,” Lachlan admitted, not looking Bas in the eye.
“Then fight for him.” Bas tapped the hilt of the sword, peeking out over Lachlan’s shoulder. It was the sword Apollo had given him for his birthday. “You should be good at that by now, Ironwood.”
“And if he doesn’t want me to fight for him?”
Bas rolled his eyes. “He does. He’s just scared to admit it. You’re a hunter after the most elusive prey on earth. The great golden dragon. Enjoy the challenge.”
Lachlan’s eyes lit up like Bas was finally talking his language. Praise the gods.
“Thanks, Bas. Best not keep Auntie Kenna waiting,” Lachlan said, and Bas left him standing in the driveway, looking thoughtful.
Bas really hoped Apollo would forgive him if he ever found out. He hadn’t had to worry about Apollo poisoning his food for fun in a long time, and he really didn’t want him to revive the tradition.
Bas hurried up the great stone staircase inside the manor, dodging hunters he knew only by sight, and knocked politely on Kenna’s office door.
“If your last name is Greatdrakes, come in. If not, bugger off,” Kenna’s voice came through the ancient oak.
Bas laughed and opened the door. “Morning, Kenna. You summoned me?”
Kenna Ironwood was a formidable woman. Age was only making her stronger and tougher. She was sitting at a desk covered in papers held down by random weapons and wrappers of the nicotine gum she chewed because she was still trying to stop smoking.
“Sit your ass down, Bas.” Kenna put a plain manila folder down on the desk in front of him. “Happy to see you. Can you tell me what the devil this is?”
“Straight to it.” Bas opened the file and began to sort through the newspaper clippings and printouts from various websites.
He didn’t hear someone come in with tea, but at some point in his perusing of the papers, a cup and saucer were placed in front of him. Each piece of paper in the folder told a similar story. People had been complaining of nightmares and then insomnia. They began hallucinating while they were awake. Speaking of a shadow man. And then they would fall into a coma and waste away.
“I want to know your thoughts,” Kenna said, toying with a pen.
“And there’s no chance that it has natural causes like a virus?” Bas asked. He needed more time to read through them properly.
“Ruled out. Doctors can’t figure it out because they are all healthy. Nothing I can see links these people. Not even a book club. The only link is that they started happening in Dublin at the same time Taranis fixed magic,” Kenna replied.
Bas looked up from the printed pages. “Something woke up.”
“That’s my guess. I just don’t know what, and I don’t have time to look into it. It’s beyond my realm of understanding, but it’s in yours. I swear every day I wake up, this world is weirder.” Kenna tossed the pen on her desk. “You find out what it is and how I can kill it, and it’ll stop eating people’s dreams.”
Bas spilled his tea. “What did you say?”
“Read the articles, Basset. All the victims have claimed something—this shadow man was trying to eat their dreams. Why? What is it?”
Bas put down his tea. “I think I know who its next victim is.” Bas got up and gathered the folder back together. “I gotta go.”
“Happy hunting!” Kenna called behind him.
Bas pulled out his phone and hit Bridget’s number. It rang out, and so he did it again. He made it down the stairs, through the parking lot, and jumped in the Audi.
“I’m at work—” Bridget answered.
“Don’t dream!”
“What?”
“Don’t dream. Don’t go in the astral. Don’t even daydream for fun until I find you.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not fucking around, Bridget. Please just trust me. That thing in your dreams is after you,” Bas argued
