CHAPTER 201

One night, when everyone was at dinner, the queen picked up a fork and inspected it. "Why bother with this?" she asked.

"I'm trying to make a point," he replied between mouthfuls of roast beef.

"Not what you're doing here. I mean this meal. We are in the Dreamscape, you do not require sustenance here."

"It's nice to sit down as a family," Sofia replied. "Don't be a bitch about it."

Mike thought that the queen was going to be angry, but a small smile crossed her lips.

"Like a tradition," she mused, and then became quiet for the remainder of the meal.

The next morning, when he got up, he noticed that the queen had finally removed her armor, and wore an intricately decorated dress and carried a staff made of wood that had been braided into shape. She was outside at the fountain, speaking in detail with Naia, and once the afternoon came, she went for another flight with Abella.

His plan was working, and this was the most relaxed that he had felt in a long time.

Kisa was sitting in the old man's kitchen. There was a storm outside, and rain was striking the glass of the windows hard enough to rattle them. She had no memory of how she had gotten here, but when she looked at her hands, she realized that this wasn't a memory. She was in control, and she stood to look outside.

Out the window, there were rows of dimly lit buildings. Even though she could hear the rain, she couldn't see it, which was very odd. Even more striking was the dark cloud overhead that swirled down like a giant snake, circling each building before moving on to the next.

"Maybe we ignore that for now." The old man startled her, and she stepped away from the window as he lowered the blinds. He was holding a cup of tea, which he handed over to Kisa. "In fact, stay away from window. Is bad idea to keep watching."

"Where am I?" She backed away from him and went to the front door of the apartment. When she opened it up, she saw a long hallway that led to the stairs. At the end of the hall was a younger, human version of herself trying to climb the final step while using braces.

"What's going on here?" She moved back into the room and saw herself as a human, lying on the couch with wary eyes cast at the old man's bedroom. There was another version of herself going through the pantry and emptying it out, preparing to run away.

They were her memories, but they were faded and translucent. The old man, however, was not a memory.

"This is safe place," he informed her, his accent as thick as ever, then sat at the table. "Maybe last safe place for you."

"Who am I?" she asked. "Who was I?"

He shook his head, sadness lining his features. "I cannot answer what you don't already know. I am limited."

"Who are you?"

He shook his head again. "I cannot say. That part of you is lost, but what I am is self preservation, Kisa. Part of you that speaks from deep within, reminds you that you matter."

"Like my conscience?" She sat at the table with him, wondering what was going on. "If you're my conscience, am I asleep?"

"No, not asleep. On brink." He pointed up at the ceiling. "That woman, she has pushed her way in, wants to lock you away."

"Is that what the storm is?" she asked.

He nodded. "Your body is a temple, and she has invaded. Even now, she looks for you, but she didn't count on most important fact."

"Which is?"

"You are more animal than human, Kisa. Normal human, easy to lock away. Animal? Much harder to cage. She is looking through memories in attempt to find real Kisa, but so much confusion has led her astray." He grinned. "In this way, your body is mixed blessing."

Intense pain radiated through Kisa's arm, and she looked down to see bite marks on it. Through the howling storm outside, she heard someone shouting in a high-pitched voice that reminded her of Tink.

"What's happening to my body?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Your guess is good as mine. If you—" he held deathly still, and Kisa felt it now, a heavy presence that descended over the building. She ducked away beneath the kitchen table as the window covering rattled itself open. From beneath, all she could see was the old man's legs, and he held perfectly still at the table as her memories manifested throughout the room.

There were hundreds of them. Kisa yelling at the old man, confiding in him, mourning the loss of her legs, and then crying on the floor, frantically trying to pull her collar off.

She grabbed at her throat, and briefly felt something around it, but was relieved when it was just the smooth fur of her neck.

The presence moved on, and when Kisa tried to come out, the old man cleared his throat. She stayed where she was, and the front door banged open. Based on the legs she could see, it was a woman in dark robes, and she stomped her way over to the table.

"Where is she?" demanded the woman in an angry voice.

"Kisa is Kisa," replied the old man. "Sometime wander, rarely come home. Have you come in from storm as well?"

The woman ignored him, and wandered around the room and stopped next to Kisa's memories. She kicked at a few, grunting in disgust when her feet passed through them.

"I know you're in here," she said. "Look, all I want is to get away from this damned house, and you're lack of cooperation is making it very—"

The whole world turned sideways for a moment, and if Kisa hadn't grabbed onto the table leg, she would have slid free. The old man, however, didn't budge, as if affixed to the universe itself.

"Fucking goblin," muttered the woman, and then she left.

Kisa pulled herself free from beneath the table and felt a searing pain on one of her legs. She looked down and spotted some fresh bite marks, and then spat when her mouth filled with the taste of blood.