Page 8 of Dream Lost (The Fae Universe #12)

8

T he Ironwood estate never failed to impress. It had been built in a time when having high stone walls and a forest meant you were rich and had enemies who wanted you dead. It was nothing short of a small castle, surrounded by training grounds.

Kenna ruled the estate and her family with a firm hand because it would be impossible to hold them together otherwise. David, her husband, was the one who tempered Kenna’s fire and made sure whoever they trained had a good moral center and a sense of honor.

With so much magic and new creatures becoming known to the world, there could be no place for racists, speciesists, or otherwise. This was a lesson that the Ironwood family had to learn themselves after being passed down generations of hatred for the fae in particular.

Bas pulled up in the visitor’s parking spots and was barely out of the car before Lachlan came striding across the training fields, sword strapped to his back. He was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to him, his dark hair in disheveled waves. Because Bas was a good brother, he took a photo to send to Apollo later.

“Hey, Bas, lovely day,” Lachlan greeted as he drew nearer. His blue eyes searched the car, and his smile dimmed a bit. “All by yourself?”

“Don’t act so disappointed that I didn’t bring Apollo. I tried, but he wasn’t feeling well,” Bas said, trying for tact.

Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved.

Lachlan went on full alert. “What do you mean he’s unwell? Is he okay? Has been to a doctor at least?”

“Not something a doctor can fix, unfortunately.”

“ What! What does that even mean?” Lachlan began to rant, and Bas sighed inwardly.

Lachlan was generally more intelligent than this, but everything was an emergency when it came to Apollo. Bas broke his interfering rule because Lachlan started to rant about cancer and special treatments in Switzerland.

“He saw you on a date last night. Fuck. He doesn’t have cancer, Lachie. Take a breath,” Bas burst out.

Lachlan breathed and ran a hand through his sweaty curls. “Fuck. I knew that date would backfire on me. It wasn’t a real one, Bas. She was just a friend. I wanted to see if Apollo would get mad enough to talk to me. We need to have it out. But he just walked away, and I couldn’t find him after.”

“Lachlan, as a dear friend, I am only going to say this once.” Bas looked him dead in the eye. “You are a fucking idiot. Parading other people around Apollo will push him in the opposite direction. I’m not getting involved in your relationship, but I am giving you this advice for free. Are you ready? Focused?”

Lachlan growled. “Spit it out, Bas. I am at my wits’ end trying to figure out what your brother wants from me.”

I’m going to regret this one day , Bas thought, but he had to say something. Apollo never would. “You probably don’t know this, but Apollo was the one that was in the car when my mother died. He was trapped and had to watch her die as people tried to get her out.”

“Fuck,” Lachlan whispered. He, too, had seen his parents die violently when he was a small boy, so if anyone could understand Apollo, it was him.

“Apollo is scared to love anyone that much again—anyone who isn’t Cosimo or his brothers,” Bas continued. “Stop trying to make him jealous. This game of cockblocking each other is over. If you want him, fight for him. If you just want to fuck him, leave him alone and find another blond to scratch your itch.”

Bas had never stepped in and threatened anyone on his brother’s behalf before, but nothing was worse than seeing Apollo sad.

“I don’t just want to fuck him,” Lachlan admitted, not looking Bas in the eye.

“Then fight for him.” Bas tapped the hilt of the sword, peeking out over Lachlan’s shoulder. It was the sword Apollo had given him for his birthday. “You should be good at that by now, Ironwood.”

“And if he doesn’t want me to fight for him?”

Bas rolled his eyes. “He does. He’s just scared to admit it. You’re a hunter after the most elusive prey on earth. The great golden dragon. Enjoy the challenge.”

Lachlan’s eyes lit up like Bas was finally talking his language. Praise the gods.

“Thanks, Bas. Best not keep Auntie Kenna waiting,” Lachlan said, and Bas left him standing in the driveway, looking thoughtful.

Bas really hoped Apollo would forgive him if he ever found out. He hadn’t had to worry about Apollo poisoning his food for fun in a long time, and he really didn’t want him to revive the tradition.

Bas hurried up the great stone staircase inside the manor, dodging hunters he knew only by sight, and knocked politely on Kenna’s office door.

“If your last name is Greatdrakes, come in. If not, bugger off,” Kenna’s voice came through the ancient oak.

Bas laughed and opened the door. “Morning, Kenna. You summoned me?”

Kenna Ironwood was a formidable woman. Age was only making her stronger and tougher. She was sitting at a desk covered in papers held down by random weapons and wrappers of the nicotine gum she chewed because she was still trying to stop smoking.

“Sit your ass down, Bas.” Kenna put a plain manila folder down on the desk in front of him. “Happy to see you. Can you tell me what the devil this is?”

“Straight to it.” Bas opened the file and began to sort through the newspaper clippings and printouts from various websites.

He didn’t hear someone come in with tea, but at some point in his perusing of the papers, a cup and saucer were placed in front of him. Each piece of paper in the folder told a similar story. People had been complaining of nightmares and then insomnia. They began hallucinating while they were awake. Speaking of a shadow man. And then they would fall into a coma and waste away.

“I want to know your thoughts,” Kenna said, toying with a pen.

“And there’s no chance that it has natural causes like a virus?” Bas asked. He needed more time to read through them properly.

“Ruled out. Doctors can’t figure it out because they are all healthy. Nothing I can see links these people. Not even a book club. The only link is that they started happening in Dublin at the same time Taranis fixed magic,” Kenna replied.

Bas looked up from the printed pages. “Something woke up.”

“That’s my guess. I just don’t know what, and I don’t have time to look into it. It’s beyond my realm of understanding, but it’s in yours. I swear every day I wake up, this world is weirder.” Kenna tossed the pen on her desk. “You find out what it is and how I can kill it, and it’ll stop eating people’s dreams.”

Bas spilled his tea. “What did you say?”

“Read the articles, Basset. All the victims have claimed something—this shadow man was trying to eat their dreams. Why? What is it?”

Bas put down his tea. “I think I know who its next victim is.” Bas got up and gathered the folder back together. “I gotta go.”

“Happy hunting!” Kenna called behind him.

Bas pulled out his phone and hit Bridget’s number. It rang out, and so he did it again. He made it down the stairs, through the parking lot, and jumped in the Audi.

“I’m at work—” Bridget answered.

“Don’t dream!”

“What?”

“Don’t dream. Don’t go in the astral. Don’t even daydream for fun until I find you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not fucking around, Bridget. Please just trust me. That thing in your dreams is after you,” Bas argued

There was a long pause. “Okay, I’m not really at work today. It’s my day off. Want to tell me what this is all about?” Bridget asked.

“Can you come to me at Temple Bar? It would be better if I showed you,” Bas replied. He held his breath as the silence on the other end of the line stretched out.

“Text me the address,” Bridget said and hung up.

Bas shot it through to her before ringing Valentine. His brother answered in a disgruntled voice, “What?”

“Change the wards. We are about to have a guest.”