The Stuff of Dreams (3 page)

Not all of the supernatural creatures and demons the Nobility had unleashed were necessarily ferocious beasts. Though extremely rare, there were certain species, like sprites and smaller dragons, that humans could keep. Some of these creatures could howl for flames in freezing winter or summon the rains that were indis-pensable for raising produce, while others could replace machinery as a source of cheap labor. The beast before D now was a perfect example of the latter.

The dragon seemed to have sensed D even before it saw him. Its bronze flesh was covered with bumps that manifested its fear, and not even the whip of the farmer in the driver’s seat could make it budge.

After lashing the beast a number of times, the farmer gave up, throwing down the whip and drawing the electronic spear from a holster beside his seat. As he hit the switch, it released a spring inside the handle. A three-foot-long spear suddenly teles-coped out to twice that size. At the same time, the battery kicked in and the steel tip gave off a pale blue glow.

The weapon was far more powerful than its appearance suggested—even if it didn’t break the skin, the mere touch of it would deliver a jolt of fifty thousand volts. According to the
Complete Frontier Encyclopedia
, it was effective against all but the top fifty of the two hundred most vicious creatures in the midsize class. While jabbing a beast of burden in the haunches with it might be a bit rough, the technique certainly wasn’t unheard of. The dragon’s hindquarters were swollen with dark red wounds where it’d been stabbed before. Electromagnetic waves tinged the sunlight blue. The farmer’s eyes bulged from their sockets, but the dragon didn’t budge.

No amount of training could break a dragon’s wild urges. Cyborg horses were something the dragons loved to prey on, but, even with one nearby, there wasn’t the slightest glimmer of savagery in the beast’s eyes. It remained transfixed, and tinged with fear. It couldn’t pull away . . . It stood still as a statue, almost like a beautiful woman enthralled by a demon.

As D passed, the farmer clucked his tongue in disgust and pulled back his spear. Since his cart was so large, there were fewer than three feet left to squeeze by on the side of the road. The point of his spear swung around. An instant later, it was shooting out at full speed toward D’s back.

.

III

.

The blue magnetic glow never would’ve suspected that at the very last second a flash of silver would drop down from above to challenge it. D’s pose didn’t change in the least as his right hand drew his blade and sent the front half of the spear sailing through the air.

Still leaning forward from his thrust, the farmer barely managed to pull himself straight. The farmer, after only a moment’s pause, made a ferocious leap from the driver’s seat. In midair, he drew the broadsword he wore through the back of his belt. When he brought the blade down with a wide stroke, a bloody mist danced out in the sunlight.

Looking only for an instant at the farmer who’d fallen to the ground with a black arrowhead poking out of the base of his neck, D turned his eyes to what he’d already computed to be the other end of that trajectory. There was only an expanse of blue sky . . . But the steel arrow stuck through the farmer’s neck had flown from somewhere up there.

The stink of blood mixed with the almost stifling aroma of greenery in the air, and, as D sat motionless on his steed, the sunlight poured down on him. There wasn’t a second attack.

Finally, D dropped his gaze to the farmer lying on the ground, just to be sure of something. The bloodstained arrow was the same deadly implement the man had used to attack him in his dream. Perhaps the arrow had flown
from
the world of dreams.

Putting his longsword back in its sheath, in a low voice D asked, “You saw what happened, didn’t you?”

Behind him, someone seemed to be surprised. Just around the base of the hill, a slim figure sat astride a motorbike of some kind, rooted to the spot. The reason her long hair swayed was because her whole body was trembling.

“Uh, yes,” she said, nodding slowly. It was the same young woman who’d told him to go to the hospital.

“Tell the sheriff exactly what you saw,” D said tersely, giving a kick to the belly of his horse.

“Wait—you can’t go. You have to talk to the sheriff,” the girl cried passionately. “If you don’t, the law will be after you until the whole situation gets sorted out. You plan on running the rest of your life? Don’t worry. I saw the whole thing. And don’t you wanna get to the bottom of this mystery? Find out why everyone dreamed about you?”

The cyborg horse stopped in its tracks.

“To be completely honest,” the girl continued, “that wasn’t the first time I’d seen your face, either. I’ve met you plenty of times. In my dreams. So I knew about you a long time before everyone else did. I knew you’d come for sure. That’s why I came after you.”

Up in the saddle, D turned and looked back at her.

Though the girl had no idea she’d just done the impossible, her eyes were gleaming. “Great. I’m glad you changed your mind. It might be my second time seeing you, but, anyway, nice to meet you. I’m Nan Lander.”

“Call me D.”

“Kind of a strange name, but I like it. It’s like the wind.” Though she’d intended that as a compliment, D was as uncongenial as ever, and, with a troubled expression, Nan said, “I’ll hurry off and fetch the sheriff.” And with that, she steered her motorbike back around the way she’d come.

Due to urgent business, the sheriff wasn’t in, but a young deputy quickly wrapped up the inquiry. D was instructed not to leave town for the time being. The deputy said the farmer who’d been killed was named Tokoff, and he had lived on the outskirts of the village. He was a violent man prone to drunken rages, and they’d planned on bringing him in sooner or later, which explained why the matter of his death could be settled so easily. Even more fortunate was the fact that he didn’t have any family.

“But for all that, he wasn’t the kind of man to go around indiscriminately throwing spears at folks, either. If we didn’t have Nan’s word for it, your story would be mighty hard to believe. We’re gonna have to check into your background a wee bit.” The trepidation in the deputy’s voice was due, no doubt, to the fact he’d already heard D’s name. But that was probably also the reason why he’d accepted the surreal tale of Tokoff being slain by an arrow fired from nowhere at all after attacking the Hunter.

Nan said she’d show D the way to the hotel. The two of them were crossing the creaky floor on the way to the door when D asked in a low voice, “Did you dream about me, too?”

A few seconds later, the deputy replied, “Yep.” But his voice just rebounded off the closed door.

With Nan at the fore, the two of them started walking down the street, D leading his horse while she pushed her bike. The wind, which had grown fiercer, threw up gritty clouds that sealed off the world with white.

“You . . . you didn’t ask him anything at all about Tokoff,” Nan said as she gazed at D with a mournful look in her eye. “Didn’t ask the name of the man you killed, or his line of work, or if he had a family. Don’t you care? Does it just not matter now that he’s dead? You don’t even wonder why he attacked you, do you? I can’t see how you can live that way.”

Perhaps it was her earnestness rather than her censure that moved D’s lips. “You should think about something else,” he said.

“I suppose you’re right,” Nan replied, letting the subject go with unexpected ease.

On the Frontier, it was taboo to show too much interest in travelers, or any concern for them. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm all too common in girls her age that made her forget for a brief instant the rule that’d been borne not out of courtesy, but from the very real need to prevent crimes against those who would bare their souls to strangers.

D halted. They were in front of a bar. It was just a little before twelve o’clock Noon. Beyond the batwing doors, women who looked to be housewives could be seen clustered around the tables.

Under extreme circumstances or in impoverished Frontier villages that lacked other recreation facilities, this one institution—the bar—often played a part in essentially everything the villagers did. The bar served a number of purposes—a casino for the men, a coffee shop and chat room for housewives, and a reading room and a place to exchange information on fashion and discuss matters of the heart for young ladies. It wasn’t even frowned on when the tiniest of tots tried their hand at gambling. For that reason, the bar was open all day long.

Nan watched with a hardened expression as D wrapped the reins around a fence in front of the building. “Aren’t we going to your hotel to talk? I wouldn’t mind. It’s not like I wanna be a kid forever.”

Giving her no reply, D stepped up onto the raised wooden sidewalk. He didn’t even look at Nan.

The girl gnawed her lip. She wanted to look him square in the face so she could glare at him. All the anger she could muster was directed at his black-clad back, but the wind that came gusting by at that moment lifted the hem of his coat to deflect her rage. When she pushed her way through the doors a moment later, she found the figure in black was already seated at a table right by the counter.

From the far left corner of the bar, where all the housewives congregated, D was being bombarded with whispers and glances. Every gaze was strangely feverish, yet filled with fear at the same time. Everyone could tell. Everyone could see this young man belonged to another world.

Feeling a certain relief at D’s choice of table, Nan took a seat directly across from him. Telling the sleepy-eyed bartender on the other side of the counter, “Paradigm cocktail, please,” she looked at D.

“Shangri-La wine,” was all D said, and the bartender gave a nod and turned around.

“You know, you’re a strange one,” Nan said, her tone oddly gloomy. “You can watch someone get killed without even raising an eyebrow, but you won’t take a woman back to your room. On the other hand, you did get me a grownup seat here. Are all Vampire Hunters like you?”

“My line of work was in your dream, too?”

Nan nodded. “Even though you didn’t come out and say it, I just knew. And I knew you’d come here, too. Though I didn’t know exactly
when
it would be.”

“You know why you had that dream?”

Nan shook her head. “Can anyone tell you why they dream what they do?” Quickly donning an earnest expression that suited a young lady, Nan added, “But I understand. I saw that you were just walking on and on in this blue light. Where you came from, where you were going—no, scratch the first part. I only knew where you were going. To see Sybille. And there’s your answer.”

Was she trying to suggest the sleeping girl had summoned him? Why would Sybille do that? And why had only Nan seen D over and over again? The mystery remained.

“Thirty years ago, she was bitten by a Noble. The doctor said it was only natural you’d tell me to go to the hospital. Why are you so concerned about her?”

“Why did Sybille call you here, for that matter? How come I’m the only one who’s dreamed about you more than once? I’m going to be honest with you—I’m so scared, I can’t stand it.” There was a hint of urgency in Nan’s voice. “No matter how scary a dream may be, you can forget it after you open your eyes. Real life is a lot more painful. But this time, I’m just
as scared after I wake up. No, I’m even more scared . . . ” Her voice failed.

The millions of words embedded in the silence that followed were shattered with D’s next remark. “This village is the only place where humans and Nobility lived and worked together on equal terms,” he said. “I hear they aren’t around any more, but I’d like to know what it used to be like.”

For a second, Nan focused a look of horrible anger at the Hunter’s gorgeous face, and then she shook her head. “You won’t get that from me. If that’s what interests you, Old Mrs. Sheldon could tell you plenty.”

“Where can I find her?”

“The western edge of the village. Just follow the orchards, and you’ll find the place soon enough. Why? Is something going on?” Nan asked, leaning over the table.

“Hell, we’d like to know that, too!”

As the rough voice drifted across the bar, a number of figures spread out in the room, too. The batwing doors swung wildly, hinges creaking.

“Mr. Clements.”

Nan’s eyes reflected a man baring his teeth—a man who looked like a brick wall someone had dressed in a leather vest. It wasn’t just the material forming the contours of the secondhand combat suit he wore that made him look more than six and a half feet tall—the massive frame of the man inside the combat suit was imposing in both size and shape.

A killing lust had taken over the bar. The housewives were
a sickly hue as they got to their feet. In addition to the man called Clements, there were six others. All of them wore power-amplifying combat suits.

“Mr. Clements, we don’t want any trouble here—” the bartender called out fretfully from behind the counter as he loaded glasses onto a tray.

“Go out back for a while, Jatko,” the giant said in a weighty tone. There was a little gray mixed in his hair, but he looked like he could strangle a bear even without his combat suit. “Tally up yesterday’s take or something. We’ll pay you for anything that gets broken. Nan, you’d best run along, too. You start getting friendly with these drifter types, and you’re not gonna be too popular around town.”

“I can talk to whomever I please,” Nan retorted, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Well, we’ll discuss that matter later. Move it!” Clements tossed his jaw in Nan’s direction, and a man to his left went into action. An arm empowered with hundreds of times its normal strength grabbed Nan by the shoulder.

Suddenly, her captor’s face warped in pain. Oddly enough, neither the men there nor even Nan had noticed until now that D had stood up.

A black glove held the wrist of the man’s combat suit. The man’s body shook, but D didn’t move in the slightest. It looked like his hand was just gently resting on the other man. But what was gentle for this young man was cause for others to shudder.

The Hunter moved his hand easily, and the arm of the combat suit went along with it as it limned a semicircle. “This young lady came in here with me,” the Hunter said. “It would be best if she leaves with me, too.” And then D calmly brought his hand down, and the sound of bones snapping echoed through the quiet bar.

Clements looked scornfully at his lackey, who’d fainted dead away from the pain. “Beat by a damn Hunter. That really makes me sick,” he spat, gazing at D. “Stanley Clements is the name—I head up the local Vigilance Committee and breed guard beasts. I’m a big deal in these parts, if I do say so myself. You remember that when you tangle with me.”

D was silent.

Perhaps mistaking silence for fright, Clements continued. “We hear tell you killed Tokoff. For a lousy drifter, you’ve got a lot of nerve laying a hand on a clean-living villager,” Clements said, his voice brimming with confidence.

“That’s not how it was, Mr. Clements. I saw the whole thing. And Bates agreed, too. He’s not the one who shot that arrow, I tell you!”

Ignoring Nan’s desperate explanation, Clements sneered, “I don’t know what the hell that deputy told you, but you’re gonna leave town quick. After we have a little fun with you, that is.”

It seemed Nan had a good deal more courage than the average person. The girl reprovingly interjected the comment, “Orders from Mr. Bates are as good as orders from the sheriff. You know, you’re all gonna catch hell when he gets back.”

“Shut your hole, you little brat!” Clements barked as rage gave a vermilion tinge to his already demonic visage. “Go ahead and take ’im!”

With that command, three men in combat suits charged at D. They didn’t give the slightest consideration to the fact that he had Nan with him.

No sooner had D pushed the girl away than he was swallowed by a wave of orange armor. Nan’s eyes were open as wide as they could go. Look at that. Didn’t all three Vigilance Committee members just sail through the air and slam against the floor with an enormous crash? Weren’t they supposed to have the strength of five hundred men in that armor?

If by some chance there’d been a super-high-speed camera there to film this scene, it would’ve caught D as he slipped between the jumbled forms of the trio and twisted their wrists behind their backs with secret skill. The wrist and shoulder joints of every last man were shattered beyond repair. Of course, even a dhampir was no match for the strength of a combat suit. In addition to the ancient technique he used to turn his opponents’ strength and speed against themselves, he must’ve called on all his inhuman strength. But executing those moves with absolute perfection was something this young man alone could’ve done.

“Well, ain’t that something,” Clements groaned, growing pale as he did so. But he hadn’t yet lost the will to fight. He still had two lackeys left. Slowly, they inched forward.

It was then that a composed voice declared, “That’ll be enough of that.”

“Sheriff!” Nan shouted with delight. The men in orange stopped what they were doing and closed their eyes. The fight that’d burned in them like a madness left like a dream.

“Who started this, Nan?” asked the tall shadow standing in front of the doors.

“Mr. Clements.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Krutz,” the giant growled, vehemently refuting the charge as he turned to the lawman. “You gonna believe this little bitch? I swear to hell, I’ve been true to my word to you.”