“Or this?” he continues as I stare at him openmouthed. This time, the modelesque Bailey is engaged in what looks like the Playboy version of showering. I doubt my movements were remotely that sensuous, and I doubt even more that I paid that much attention to my boobs.
Still, my cheeks—and other places—feel hotter than the surface of the sun. “You watched me in the shower?”
A mischievous grin appears on his face, reinforcing the feeling that I’ve met him before. Except I haven’t. He’s the kind of man I’d remember forever. “I came here to thank you.” He dispels the shower illusion. “Bernard made the breakthrough I needed. The money has been transferred to your account on Gomorrah.”
Right. The money. He’s got me so off balance I almost forgot about that.
“Good,” I manage to say. “But that doesn’t excuse your invading my personal space.”
His grin turns wicked. “You’re right. It’s rude of me. You showed me yours; the least I can do is show you mine.”
Another Valerian appears to the side of us, gloriously naked and covered in some liquid.
Oh. My. Estrogen.
Sex god doesn’t even begin to cover it. My blood rushes to all sorts of private places, and I feel a bizarrely unsanitary urge to lick every one of those toned muscles.
The fully clothed Valerian winks as his naked doppelgänger steps into the shower and lathers himself with soap.
Can you faint from arousal? Or have a heart attack?
He makes his showering self disappear. “Are we even now?”
I just stand there, doing my best not to fan myself.
He steps closer, ocean-blue eyes gleaming. “You know, I still feel like we know each other from somewhere.”
I dampen my suddenly dry lips. “Same.”
“I wonder if there’s a way to jog our memories?” He leans toward me, and the room around us transforms into a familiar lush bedroom with a king-sized bed covered in silk sheets and rose petals.
My lungs cease functioning, and my body feels like I’m in the middle of a heat wave. For some reason, the thought of those sensual lips on mine doesn’t—
The door to the room bangs open, making my heart spring into my throat.
“Ready?” Isis asks as if Valerian isn’t here—and I bet for her, he isn’t.
“Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. “Let’s go.”
“Rain check,” Valerian whispers in his heated molasses voice. When I look back, he’s gone.
I blow out a shaky breath. Mom better appreciate the sacrifices I’m making to heal her.
Isis leads me to the parking lot, where a limo is already waiting for us. I spot Ariel and Felix walking to another car and call out to them.
“Can you give me a second?” I ask Isis.
“Sure.”
She climbs into the limo and closes the door as I hurry over to my friends. Their nice clothes are ruined, but their bodies seem fine—at least Ariel’s. Felix is more covered up, so it’s harder to tell.
“How are you guys?”
Ariel makes a check mark in the air. “Killed not one but two vampires, yet didn’t drink any blood.”
I beam at her. “I think you’re officially cured.”
Felix shuffles from foot to foot. “Kit said Hekima made me fight you. I’m so sorry I hit you.”
“Well, I knocked you out.” I grin and pantomime a punch. “I think that makes us even.”
The limo with Isis honks.
“I’ve got to go.” I take out the bag with the comms device and hand it to Felix. “This is the gizmo we spoke about. I’d be grateful if you could pull anything you can from it, especially if it has to do with a place called Soma.”
Felix’s unibrow comes to life. “Is that a whole Otherland or a town?”
“No idea. I just know it has something to do with dreamwalkers. I’d like to learn more.”
He pockets the bag. “I’ll work on this ASAP.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.” Suppressing all thoughts of germs, I give each of them a hug.
It’s amazing what a little swim in the sewers does to one’s squeamishness.
The ride to JFK happens almost as it did in my dream, but when we get to Gomorrah, I don’t waste time on snacks. I get us a car right away, so anxious to get to the hospital I almost forget to breathe.
No one brings up the billing as I locate Dr. Xipil and introduce Isis. As he did in my dream, the gnome doctor gathers a few colleagues in Mom’s room. My heart squeezes as I look at her. Her brain activity is flat, and the pucking machines make her look so frail.
“Do we unplug the patient?” Dr. Xipil asks Isis.
“No,” she says, “not until I’m done.”
“Makes sense.” He stares intently at her hands.
Again—or rather, for the first time in real life—Isis shoots my mom with an arc of golden energy as I watch with bated breath.
With an eerie sensation of déjà vu, Mom’s brain activity goes from flat to frantic, and my heartbeat spikes alongside it. I can already picture all the things I’m going to say to her, how I’m going to apologize for the fight we had, for all the times that—