Clayton conveyed the question to Elena, who proceeded to give him a response that had his curious mind positively gagging to write it all down.
“Magic across realms often doesn’t work the way it would in the user’s home realm. And even if it did, dreamwalkers have no power here because our goddess doesn’t like them. Witch magic is similarly hampered because its power still comes from the source of creation.
“In this realm, our magic comes from the universe itself. Chaos energy. In your realm, our magic doesn’t work well either. It’s one of the reasons travel between realms is prohibited.”
Clayton relayed her reply.
“My magic works fine,” Mal said, utterly failing to give a shit whether a (usually) powerful dreamwalker remembered what he was, thus foiling Clayton’s plan of distracting Marshall from Mal’s species forever.
Marshall’s eyebrows drew together in thought. “How could you possibly be able to use magic if I can’t? It comes from the same place.” Instead of getting upset, Marshall’s eyes had taken on a gleam of interest Clayton could empathize with.
Learning new things was his passion, and since Mal seemed to present Clayton with something new to investigate every five minutes, he couldn’t help but feel excited about what the future held for them. Terrified, yes, but also absolutely pants-wettingly eager to see what else he would learn.
“I wonder,” Clayton began, stroking his nonexistent beard, “if it could be the difference between an electric car and a gasoline-powered car. They both perform the same function, but how they do it is entirely different.”
If Clayton had been speaking to anyone else from the Other, he wouldn’t have bothered using the analogy, but he knew Marshall would be able to follow him.
Clayton studied Other technology because he didn’t use magic, which meant he didn’t randomly destroy tech. It allowed him closer access than most Other magic users could get.
Marshall, on the other hand, was a master Crafter with a capital C. He was able to do something most dreamwalkers could only fantasize about. He could create things in the ‘Scape and drag them out into the Real.
He was known throughout Other society for the tricked-out truck he’d crafted and then driven through a dream portal. It was a perfect blend of magic and technology and was the most beautiful thing Clayton had ever seen. Marshall admitted to him once that it had nearly killed him to do and that he wasn’t likely to try again, but the fact that he’d managed it at all was mind-boggling.
“That would suggest fear and dream magic don’t derive from the same source, which counters everything we know about nightmares. Though this one does that simply by existing.” Marshall jerked his chin toward Mal, not bothering to look at him.
“Maybe fear magic is more universal than dream magic, so it’s able to slot into other magic systems easier?” Clayton suggested.
:Not quite, little traveler. You’re correct that fear is universal, but the source of creation is as well. However, fae creatures don’t dream in my realm; they enter a state of reverie. A few hybrid sentients can dream, but not enough for it to make a difference. Because dream magic is weak here, magic evolved differently. Your dreamwalker can’t access his magic because he has no conduit for it. I block all dreamwalkers who make it here from using their essence tocreate magic because they have no way to replenish it. They would fade, and nothing could be done about it.:
“Fascinating. Thank you, Astraea. Marshall, don’t?—”
:Don’t bother telling him. He’s about to leave, so it won’t matter.:
“What? Why is he leaving?”
:His friend is throwing an absolute tantrum, and I’m bored with it.:
“His friend? Do you mean Jack?” Throwing a tantrum didn’t sound like something the easy-going man Clayton knew would do.
Marshall got an odd look on his face, like he was focusing inward and didn’t like what he found, and then, with apop, he vanished.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
MAL
“Holy shit, Astraea, what the fuck?” Clayton jumped away from the vanished thorn in Mal’s side, Marshall.
“Good riddance,” Mal grumbled, mentally giving whoever had gotten rid of Marshall a thumbs-up.
Clayton cocked his head to the side, and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. After a few seconds, Clayton’s eyes cleared, and he threw the tree the stink-eye, saying, “That was entirely unhelpful, but I suppose it was better than nothing.” He turned to Mal and said, “Somehow Jack took Marshall back, though Astraea won’t tell me how. We’re on our own.”
Elena said something to Clayton angrily, and Mal went on alert.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have been rude to your goddess. This is all very confusing to me.”
Elena, only slightly mollified, said something else, and Clayton nodded readily.
