“Look at me,” Valerian demands.
I obediently shift my gaze to his face.
“You’re going to be fine.” The words sound more like an order than reassurance.
I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “How could we possibly be fine?”
“Dylan will get the recipe for the cure in her next dream,” he says confidently. “It will be easy to make. We’ll rush to the nearby world, and she’ll make the cure there, no problem.”
I stare into his ocean-colored eyes. “If you’re trying to pass for a seer, your fortune-telling needs to be more oblique.”
He puts a finger to his temple and with mock concentration says, “I see you in a different bed. There’s moaning. A pond is nearby.”
I smile weakly. “That vision isn’t all that mysterious. There’s a pond in your apartment on Gomorrah.”
He leans in, eyes gleaming. “It doesn’t change the fact that there’s moaning in your future.” And closing the remaining distance, he presses his lips to mine.
Holy puck. I’m kissing in the real world—and it’s magic. Amazingly, bacteria and viruses couldn’t be further from my mind. Instead, all my senses are focused on him, on the way his lips feel, how his breath is warm and faintly sweet… how anxious butterflies in my stomach are now flapping their wings in a mating dance.
Deepening the kiss, I grab his hand and slide it under my shirt.
He stiffens and pulls away.
I eye him in hurt confusion.
“We can’t,” he says raggedly.
“You can give us privacy with your powers,” I protest.
“It’s not that. You need rest, and taking this further would be just the opposite.”
Taking this further.
Is that what I want?
Incredibly, yes. All the way yes.
“Why don’t you lie down,” he says. “I’m going to go see if Rowan can speed up her zombies some more.”
“But—”
He’s already on his feet, striding away.
Ugh. Stupid Dylan and her “take it easy” advice. If the virus kills me, I’ll be really pissed I didn’t seize the moment just then.
My heart is still fluttering like a leaf in a tornado, and I take a few calming breaths—though what I actually need is a cold shower.
My pulse continues racing despite the relaxation attempt.
Wait a second. Aren’t heart palpitations a symptom?
No. No way. Too soon. Besides, that way lies another freak-out.
I’d better distract myself—and I know just the thing.
Stretching out on the bed, I touch Pom’s fur and go into the dream world.
As soon as I appear in my dream palace, I leave my body, even out my heart rate, and jump back in.
Pom appears in front of me, his expression subdued.
I came here to level with him, but he might already know something.
“Is everything okay?” he asks instead of his usually cheerful hello.
“It’s not,” I say and tell him about the virus situation.
As I talk, his fur turns black.
“I’m sorry,” I say when I finish. “In hindsight, I’m a terrible host.”
The tips of Pom’s ears redden. “That’s stupid. Even with the virus in mind, I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s symbiont.”
“Thanks.” I grab him off the floor and press him against my chest. “On the bright side, this virus has shown me what a true parasite is like. I never should’ve called you anything but a symbiont.”
Pom wiggles his ears. “I’ve been trying to teach you.”
“You have,” I say. “And now I’m telling you how I really feel.”
He wriggles out of my grasp and lands gracefully on the floor. “How about Valerian? Did you tell him how you feel?”
I hesitate, then shake my head. “I’m sure he knows.”
“How? I don’t think even you know.”
I heave an exasperated sigh. “What does it matter if we’re both going to—”
“You can be so stupid sometimes.” His fur is deep red now. “Sometimes I worry I use too much of your brain.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean, use my brain?”
His angry red hue morphs into a guilty beet. “Well, yeah. I don’t exactly have my own head in the real world, do I?”
“You don’t, but—”
“As part of our symbiotic bond with the moofts, we loofts borrow some brain cells to be able to expand our consciousness. Later, we stimulate neurogenesis to compensate for the—”
“You know what, I don’t think I want to know.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Just tell me one thing… When I talk to you, am I talking to myself?”
“My neurons have very limited interaction with your own.” His fur is a kaleidoscope of colors. “I’m a separate entity, just one that happens to share things with you.”
“Yeah,” I say sarcastically. “Things like my blood, and as it turns out, my brain as well.”
“I thought you knew. How did you think I was able to use your powers? Or pick up your thoughts?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You must’ve stolen the part of my brain that was responsible for asking those very questions.”