Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1) by Camille Peters (black authors fiction .txt) 📗

between it and the ceiling. Don’t give in, don’t give in…but during one of my accidental glimpses, my gaze lingered too long. The familiar swoosh swept over me as I tumbled inside.

Maci’s bedroom had disappeared, swallowed up in an ocean of spiders, crawling across the cobwebs draped in a canopy over her cradle. Hundreds more covered the walls in swirling clouds of black. Although it was a tamer version of the nightmare Darius had given me due to it being absent Maci’s fear, the heart of the nightmare was the same as the one Darius had woven for me all those months ago.

I tried tugging myself free from my sticky prison but I was trapped. The spiders scurried closer until they were upon me, tickling my toes and infesting my hair, torturing me without escape from the never-ending agony of their pattering legs.

“Nemesis? Nemesis?” Darius’s frantic voice sounded from a great distance away, an echo that steadily grew louder and more desperate. “Eden? Eden?”

Abruptly, I jerked from the dream and found myself back in Maci’s spider-free bedroom. Darius held my shoulders in an iron grip, his eyes wide. “Snap out of it, Eden.”

I blinked, dazed, and relief flooded Darius’s face.

“You did it again. Tell me what happened. Now.”

I seemed to have lost the ability to speak, as if the nightmare’s cobwebs had filled my throat and blocked all sound. Darius’s fingers holding me felt eerily similar to the weight of the spiders’ legs.

“Get them off me.” I shook myself from his grip, but the sensation lingered. I frantically rubbed my arms, but I couldn’t shake off the horrible fear entangling me like I was still trapped within the nightmare’s tangled webs.

“What’s wrong?” Despite its hardness, Darius’s tone was tinged with worry.

“You, that’s what’s wrong. Spiders everywhere, crawling all over me, even invading my hair. Ew, I can still feel their horrible legs. What is your obsession with spiders anyway? Branding yourself with their webs, having one for a pet…you’re insane. They’re so creepy.”

“We’re not creepy,” Bolt said from Darius’s hair, but thankfully he had the decency not to emerge.

Darius said nothing for a moment, staring at me with an intense, unreadable expression that I was certain he could read my secrets that threatened to spill out. “They’re the ultimate Weavers,” he said warily.

Silence.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “Surely you wouldn’t like them so much if you ever had the misfortune of experiencing spiders investigating every inch of—” My words finally registered. I gasped and covered my mouth.

Life flickered in Darius’s stony countenance. “You seem to be privy to an unusual amount of details about tonight’s nightmare. How…interesting.”

I pressed my hands tighter over my mouth, as if the action could smother the words which had already escaped.

“Enlighten me: how did you come to possess this knowledge? I told you nothing about my nightmare.”

“I saw—I saw—” No, I couldn’t tell him, but what possible excuse could wiggle me out of this mess? There was no logical explanation as to how I knew about Darius’s nightmare. I was just like a fly, trapped in a web of my own creation, and about to be devoured by a man who was supposed to be my enemy.

His eyes glistened as he stepped closer. “What did you see? Did my dream magically appear in your weaving mirror? Do you have a special mirror that allows you to see the impossible?”

“I saw the nightmare flowers you used.” But the excuse sounded weak, even to me. I hardly paid attention when he wove—I certainly hadn’t tonight—and we both knew it.

Darius’s extended silence was torturous. “Strange, I recall you were entirely preoccupied with struggling with your own weaving tonight. What an amazing feat, to be able to know so much about my nightmare by merely seeing the flowers I used, without observing the stitchery that created it. You must have been paying very close attention…unless there’s another explanation.”

I felt his penetrating gaze peeling back the layers burying my secrets. There seemed to be only one way to escape this interrogation, an undesired path, but the lesser of the two evils looming before me.

“I knew because the flowers you used tonight reminded me of the nightmare you gave me.”

I braced myself for his reaction to the confession he’d been trying to weasel out of me from the beginning. He said nothing for a moment, but the triumph flashed in his eyes.

“That I already knew. What’s still bothering me is why you couldn’t receive any of the dreams other Weavers wove for you, but that’s an investigation for another time. I’m glad you finally admitted it. It seemed silly prolonging your charade of denial. It would be a shame to continue down that path, wouldn’t it?”

Comets, did he know I’d seen his dream tonight? He had to. But then why wasn’t he confronting me? This was the piece of evidence he’d been waiting for ever since I’d entered this world. Surely, he’d turn my secrets into the Council, and I’d be kicked out by dawn.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d started his strange interrogation, it ended. “But none of this matters. What’s important is we’ll now have a more balanced competition due to your finally achieving a victory, thanks to my invaluable help. I expect great dreams from you after all my work getting you up to par.”

He grinned good-naturally, a complete transformation from his earlier suspicion. Did that mean he believed me? He’d have no reason to suspect the ability to see dreams existed, so perhaps for now my secret was still safe. But I’d have to be more on my guard. No more dream watching during Weavings. Ever.

Through the slit in Maci’s curtains I caught a glimpse of Stardust, approaching with lightning speed. Darius glanced out the window. “I better leave before Glitter Ball morphs into a lethal weapon and attacks me.”

With an unusually friendly wave, he disappeared with his usual crack.

Chapter 22

Stardust muttered darkly as she moodily followed me to the auditory plot within the Cultivating