“And now you’re on a mission to make amends?”
He pushes brusquely away from the table and takes his mug to the sink. “Too late for that.”
“They say it’s never too late to make things right.”
“This isn’t a fantasy movie like the ones you like watching, Merc. This is real life.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I live in reality.”
“You can’t even face your nightmares. Gimme a fucking break.”
“Hey!” I call after him, but he’s already leaving the kitchen. “Hey, wait.” Slamming my mug on the counter, I start after him. “Come on. What am I supposed to do, huh? Face them, how?”
And then I stop, panting harshly, my fists shaking.
Know what? Forget it. I’m getting better. Sleeping better. Fuck the nightmares, and fuck JC for reminding me of them.
Chapter Sixteen
Cosima
In my dream, Merc is dragging a double ax behind him, wading through a dark forest, his pale hair shining like a halo around his head, bare chest gleaming like polished marble. His feet are bare, too, torn up by thorns and stones, leaving bloody prints behind.
I call his name, but he doesn’t see me, doesn’t hear me. Birds flutter in the trees, cawing and flying away, a black cloud against the white sky.
A bell is tolling in the distance, like a bad feeling with a voice.
I follow him as he crashes through the underbelly of the trees, through brambles and bunches of weird, jagged flowers made of sharp blades. Insects buzz, crawling on the tree trunks, making their surface ripple.
I don’t want to stay in this nightmare forest, but Merc keeps going, never slowing down, and I scramble to keep up, my hands and feet catching on sharp edges, my hair catching on the trunks, insects jumping on my back, biting into my skin.
“Merc! Wait.”
“Please tell me what this forest means, what you’re doing with that ax. What are you looking for?”
But he doesn’t stop. The trees start to thin out, the forest ending in a meadow. We hurry through the shiny, silver grass, my jeans catching on the thorns.
When I look up, I stop in my t
racks.
The meadow ends in a drop-off, and from below I hear the sound of crashing waves.
“Merc!”
He’s striding away from me, heading straight for the cliff and the roaring sea below, unseeing, unhearing. Heading straight to his death.
“Stop!” I yell at him, “Stop! Please let me help.”
He falls off into the void, vanishing without a sound, the wind blowing after him, a mournful howl.
I drop to my knees and cry and the bell is tolling louder now, a deafening ring in my ears, louder and louder—
Until the cliff and the meadow fade away, and I’m lying in bed, my eyes blurry with tears.
Jesus Christ.
The bell turns out to be my phone, ringing on the nightstand. Reaching out blindly, I pat around until I find it, press Accept Call and bring it to my ear. “H’llo?”