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She watched him disappear into the Ephemeros’s swirling mist and wanted to call him back, but in the next moment, a new figure emerged from the blankness.

  Tovah, no longer in the mood for unexpected company, prepared to shape her exit light. She’d made it to the x when she stopped. “It’s you.”

  “I told you I’d find you,” said her lover from the club. “And here you are.”

  Tension coiled in the pit of her belly. “Here I am.”

  He smiled, moving forward. “You didn’t make it very easy.”

  She returned his smile, which sent heat flaring down to her toes. All ten of them. “Sorry.”

  “I thought maybe you were avoiding me.” His mouth tilted down at the corners in a self-deprecating frown she found utterly charming.

  Tovah moved toward him. She had to tip her head back to look into his face, but didn’t feel like representing taller. Being with a man that size, so tall and broad, made her feel like something she never was. Petite. Delicate. Uberfeminine.

  “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

  “Good.”

  Novelists were fond of writing things like “the air crackled with tension” or “sparks of attraction flew between them.” It was understood to be creative license, not meant to be taken literally…in the waking world. In the Ephemeros, where all things were possible, sparks really did crackle when he looked at her.

  Her lover reached his hand to take hers and bring it to his lips. Tovah shivered. Perfection, that touch. That look. She might be shaping some of it, but it didn’t matter because he was going along with it.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she whispered as his breath ghosted along her skin.

  “What do you want to call me?” He slid a hand along her hip to press against the small of her back.

  Tovah raised an eyebrow. “Your name?”

  He laughed and dipped his head to brush his lips along her temple. Music, something soft and slow, something meant to be played on a record, not an iPod, sifted through the air around them. They were dancing in a moment, her feet moving unerringly to the pace he set.

  Candles on tall metal holders bloomed around them like the daisies she’d shaped before. The grass became smooth, polished wood. Her partner wore tails and shiny shoes that reflected the warm yellow glow of candlelight. He was making this for her, and it was tempting to let him.

  It was a dream, after all.

  Did his name matter, when everything else was perfect? When he knew just how to move with her along the floor, their bodies aligned just so? What mattered a name when the hem of her red gown whispered over rose petals that should’ve, would’ve, tripped her up but didn’t.

  The music swelled and he twirled her out, then in again. His hands fit her body like they’d been made for her. Shaped for her. They probably had been.

  “How much of this,” she murmured, tipping her head to offer him her mouth, “is me?”

  His mouth brushed hers. “I’d venture to say, all of it.”

  The kiss took a long time, and she savored it. His mouth tasted of mint and sunshine, fresh things. Of heat and desire. His eyes fluttered closed, the lashes like dark gates closing off the emotions in them—but she wasn’t here for emotion.

  A low leather sofa appeared in just the right spot to hold them when he sat. Tovah straddled his lap, her knees pressing the soft leather and her dress no longer sweeping the floor. His hands slid up her thighs, finding the soft, tender skin inside them and stroking with his thumbs. Liquid heat pooled between her legs beneath the wispy lace of panties she knew she hadn’t shaped.

  “Nothing of you at all?” She gave him a small smile.

  “Maybe just a little.” His thumb roamed higher, pressing her until she pushed her body against his.

  She put her hands on the sides of his face to kiss him. She swept the inside of his mouth with her tongue, tasting him and drawing out his breath, which she caught in her lungs for a moment before releasing it.

  “Maybe more than just a little,” she breathed, looking deep into his eyes.

  Then she asked no more questions. This wasn’t her dream alone; it was theirs. She had no clue where he might be in the waking world. His name, his real appearance, what he did for a living. None of that mattered. There was no worry. No disease. No accidental pregnancy. Hell, not even a worry of heartbreak. There couldn’t be any expectations of flowers and coffee in the morning when in the morning you wouldn’t even know the other if you passed on the street.

  “Do you want me?” she asked as his fingers tangled in her hair.

  “Yes.” He didn’t shout or moan the answer. It came out in a low growl, like rocks tumbling together.

  Orgasm already hovered moments away from her own stroking fingers. When he pulled her up and onto his lap and their clothes vanished in a neat trick she didn’t have time to admire, Tovah trembled, waiting for the surge of welcome pleasure. She gasped as he filled her. Pleasure built higher and higher until she could think of nothing but the urgency, the sweet heat his movements were making.

  She cried out when the first wave washed over her. For one moment she could no longer see, nor hear. Her breath left her and was given back with his kiss a moment later. He filled her lungs and her body at the same time. He surrounded her. Tovah floated on ecstasy as ripple after ripple of sweet pleasure cascaded over her. The leather couch had become a much larger bed, and her lover rolled onto his side. He took her hand, linking their fingers loosely, and let out a long sigh.

  He smiled and turned his head to look at her. Funny, how his features changed subtly whenever she looked at him. What might’ve been disconcerting was only curious. She reached to brush his dark hair off his forehead. The silky length felt good.

  “I have to go,” she said at last, with regret.

  He nodded. His hand followed the curves and valleys of her body. “I know.”

  “Will you find me again?”

  “If you need me to.”

  She paused at that, realizing what he meant. “Oh,” she said, unable to not sound disappointed. “You’re a guide.”

  His smile warmed her a little, but she still felt a bit like an ass. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

  She had to admit she’d guessed it. A shaper with that much skill would have to be a guide. She just hadn’t thought he was guiding her.

  “This is only a little bit about me,” he reminded her. “I think it’s going to be a lot more about me in the future, though. If you don’t mind.”

  She ran a finger over his chest. “I need to have hot, naughty sex with a stranger, is that what you’re saying? My subconscious is putting this out there, shaping this for me, and you as a guide are only helping me find my way?”

  “Something like that,” he purred, kissing her again. “But even guides don’t guide all the time, sweetheart.”

  She giggled at this endearment, and the way his hands tickled along her sides. “Okay, Lothario.”

  “Is that what you want to call me?”

  “Is that your name?”

  He didn’t answer, just kissed her again until the edges of the Ephemeros frayed and she let out a low curse. “Shit. I have to go.”

  “Don’t fight it. There’s always later,” he assured her with another kiss.

  They were dressed, then, and she appreciated the consideration. They could say goodbye this time instead of stealing from sleep like thieves. And not naked, always a bonus.

  “You’ll find me?” She already knew the answer. “Of course, because you’re a guide.”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  She thought of what Ben had said and frowned a little, remembering how annoying he’d been. “Are you a good guide, or a bad guide?” she asked without thinking, the alarm blaring in her ear tearing her concentration in half.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” said her lover, “I’m very, very good.”

  And then she was awake, staring at her ceiling while the wah wah wah of her alarm echoed in her bedroom.

  Chapter
Ten

  The witchwoman’s voice seeped through thick stone walls. Punctuated now and again by the dogman’s growl, her voice drilled into the boy’s ears like the scream of a teakettle…but he listened. If she was screaming about someone else, she would leave him alone. They both would.

  He didn’t want to be here, in this room with the cold stone walls and the damp concrete floor. But he wasn’t quite sure where else to go. The witchwoman and the dogman were right outside. Sometimes he could sneak past them. Sometimes he could get away.

  But not today.

  The witchwoman was screaming about a spider. There were webs high in the corners, strung from beam to beam and sagging with the bodies of insects, but the boy had never seen a spider in them. He looked, now, searching for a sign of eight legs, and shuddered with relief not to see one.

  Once a spider had crawled across his face while he slept. He’d woken as it crept into the corner of his mouth, brushed it away still half-asleep, and sat up screaming when the thing had skittered over his hand. Mommy came and shushed him, but he hadn’t been able to explain to her it hadn’t been a dream. It had all been real.

  Like this all was real.

  The man on the beach had tried to help him, but at the last minute, the boy had been afraid. The witchwoman told him not to trust anyone, that she would take care of him. Always. He didn’t believe her, because she lied, but there was comfort in her lies. They were lies, but they never changed, no matter what else did.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” the woman said from outside the door. “Are you going to let me in?”

  And, because he was only a boy who hadn’t yet learned the habit of distrust, he did.

  Tovah woke with a pounding heart and the taste of copper in her mouth. She’d been dreaming the world was falling apart. She fumbled for the ringing phone that had woken her too soon and stabbed the button with her finger. Her mouth was so dry it took her a moment to croak “hello?”

  Silence greeted her. The bedside clock told her she’d only been asleep for fifteen minutes. She sank back onto the pillows and tried to shake the cobwebs from her mind. “Who is this? Adina? Kelly?”

  “Tov. It’s me.”

  Every time they spoke, Kevin managed to make her forget one more thing about why she’d ever loved him at all. For an instant her finger hovered over the disconnect button, but then she sighed and put the phone back to her ear.

  “What do you want, Kevin?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

  If he meant to lie he should’ve put more effort into it. “It’s Friday night. Where did you think I’d be?”

  “Did I wake you up? You sound tired.”

  “I was asleep. What do you want, Kevin?” It wearied her to have to ask again.

  “I’ll make it quick—”

  Her laugh interrupted him. Kevin’s mother had said he’d been kissed by the Blarney angel at birth. She’d been proud of that fact, her son the charmer, the smooth talker. He never made anything quick.

  Though she could hear Kevin’s annoyance at her reaction, he acted like he didn’t hear the laugh. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to file the papers. I wanted you to know.”

  She put a hand over her eyes. “Okay.”

  “But you have to do something for me, okay?”

  “I don’t have to do anything for you.”

  More silence. It must have killed him not to speak. Tovah heard his breathing and imagined the way he’d be biting his lower lip. Scowling. Maybe he’d be doodling on the spare pad of paper he always kept by the phone. Writing her name and crossing it out, or drawing a caricature of her face and giving her devil horns and a mustache.

  “Why do you have to make this so ugly?” he asked, finally. “It doesn’t have to be. It shouldn’t be.”

  Wetness slipped down her cheeks and tickled her ears. She turned so the pillow could absorb them. “No. It shouldn’t. Just file the papers, Kevin. I’ll sign them. We’ll be done with each other. You can get on with your life.”

  “That’s not what this is about!”

  “What is it about?” She kept her voice steadier than she’d thought she could manage. “The money?”

  He would not admit it, even then, and it was as though he’d slipped another splinter into an already festering wound. “It’s not like I’m asking for something I don’t deserve.”

  “Deserve?” His audacity should no longer have shocked her but did.

  “We were both in that accident, Tov.”

  He had scars, too. She’d seen them. Yet she could find little sympathy for him now. “You agreed to sign the settlement over to me, Kevin. We went to mediation to avoid just this sort of thing—”

  “That was before!” he cried so vehemently she knew exactly why it had become so important to him now. “Things changed.”

  “Not for me!” Her shout roused Max, who lumbered to the side of her bed and gruffed until she reached to pet him. Tovah swallowed another shout. “Things haven’t changed for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kevin said.

  The words no longer had any power to move her. They were empty, spoken too often without sincerity. She didn’t believe him.

  “Good night, Kevin,” she said, and hung up before he could say anything more.

  Ava looked up as Tovah paused to sign in at the desk. “You’re back.”

  “Well…yes. It’s Sunday.” Tovah hitched her bag higher on her shoulder as she shook a pen unwilling to give up its ink. “You’re here, too.”

  “I have to be here. It’s my job.” Ava handed her another pen but held out her hand, waiting for its return when Tovah had finished. Pens appeared to be a precious commodity.

  “I’m here to see Henry.” Tovah signed her initials and returned Ava’s pen. “Just like every Sunday. What’s the problem?”

  “No problem.” Ava shrugged, eyebrows lifting and mouth pursing. “It’s just that every Sunday I figure this will be the day you don’t come. And then, you do.”

  Tovah raised her own brow. “And this matters to you…why?”

  Ava frowned. “It doesn’t matter to me. I just wonder when you’re going to have something better to do. That’s all.”

  Tovah didn’t know how to respond to this. Was it an insult? A comment on her loyalty? An expression of concern? “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “I’m not getting at anything.” Ava bent back to her paperwork. “I was just wondering.”

  “But why?” Tovah persisted. She set her bag down to lean on the counter. “Ava, you’ve known me for a few years. Why does this matter, now?”

  Ava looked up, face stern. “Tovah, Henry’s not going to wake up today.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “He didn’t wake up yesterday or the day before that, and he probably won’t wake up tomorrow, so I’m pretty sure he won’t today. And even if he did, he wouldn’t know you. Or appreciate that you’re here.”

  “Why does that matter?” Tovah shook her head. “What difference does that make to you?”

  “No difference. I thought it might make one to you.” Ava shrugged and set her gaze firmly on her papers, ignoring Tovah with the deliberate concentration of a woman used to disregarding what she didn’t want to see.

  “It doesn’t,” Tovah snapped and bent to pick up her bag.

  The short walk to Henry’s room did little to appease her anger. She knew what Ava was getting at. She thought Henry was a lost cause, that Tovah should concentrate on her own life instead of wasting her time with someone who couldn’t appreciate it.

  Ava didn’t know about Spider, Henry’s sleeping self, who was more awake than the body in the hospital bed. But that wasn’t what had made Tovah angry. It was understanding that if she didn’t know about Spider, she’d probably have felt the same way Ava did. That Henry wasn’t worth the time.

  She was angry with herself.

  “Hey,” she said as she pushed open Henry’s door. “I brought—oh. Hi.”

/>   Dr. Goodfellow sat on the edge of Henry’s bed, Henry’s hand in his. He’d been murmuring something when Tovah came in, but stopped at the sound of her voice. He looked up, expression distracted, then smiled.

  “Tovah. Hi.”

  “What are you doing?” She set her bag down by the chair and moved to the bed. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s the same. I’m just trying something a little different. Some energy work.” The doctor’s smile flickered. “Alternative medicine has done amazing things.”

  Henry lay unmoving but for the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheet. Dr. Goodfellow let go of his hand and stood. Once again she was struck by how tall he was, how broad-shouldered. He was built like an athlete, not an academic.

  “I wondered if you’d come today,” he said.

  This, on top of Ava’s observation, made her snark a bit. “It’s Sunday. I visit Henry on Sundays.”

  “I know.” If he noticed the snappish undertone to her answer, he didn’t show it.

  She looked at his mild smile that looked nicer the longer she looked at it. He wasn’t like Ben, she thought, who baited her on purpose to get a reaction. And comparing a man from the waking world to one in the Ephemeros was ridiculous.

  “Sorry. Ava was giving me a hard time.”

  Dr. Goodfellow’s low laugh was like the chuckle of a stream on stones. “She does that a lot, doesn’t she? Not just to you.”

  “You, too?” Tovah’s mouth yearned to return his smile, and after a moment, she let it.

  “Yep. Says I don’t need to work weekends. Says it won’t win me any points with the administration or the staff, and that the patients don’t care, either.”

  “Wow. She really laid into you.” Tovah bent to smooth Henry’s covers and took the time to brush his hair from his forehead. He needed a cut. She looked up with a small smile, teasing. “But she’s probably right.”

  Dr. Goodfellow sighed. “Yeah. She is. But I’m still here.”

  Tovah knew why she was there. “Why?”

  Today he wore another blue shirt that made his eyes seem even bluer. His hair looked rumpled, like he’d slept and not bothered to brush it. His teeth were very white, very straight. His collar was undone, no tie. He was loosening up. The disarray suited him.