Connor reached the deck and shook off the dewy blades of grass that clung to his robe's hem. "I thought you said the Key doesn't exist."
"She doesn't." Aidan shook his head. "It doesn't. Or if it does, it sure as hell isn't Lyssa."
"Okay… ?"
"Lyssa can see me," Aidan explained.
Connor's eyes narrowed. "You're certain?"
"She drew a picture of me."
The low whistle that rent the still morning was filled with things that did not need to be said aloud—surprise, worry, and a heavy dose of chastisement. "I hope you're planning to step back and let the Elders take over. You should leave this task to someone else."
Aidan paused mid-step, his robes falling to rest around his ankles. "She is not going to die."
"Cross," Connor warned in a low tone, "stop thinking with your dick."
"You know she's not the Key," Aidan growled. "There's no way in hell Lyssa would open the Gateway. No way for her to even get there. Why should she die to perpetrate a myth?"
"Can you say with absolute certainty that it's a myth?" Connor ran his hand over his jaw. "You thought we'd never find a person with the traits, so of course it was all bullshit. But now you have found someone. If she's real, maybe the myth is, too. Are you willing to risk everything and everyone we know for a piece of ass?"
Clenching his fists, Aidan stared at his friend and felt the true weight of his convictions settle on his shoulders. If he didn't have Connor's support, he was completely on his own.
"She's not just a piece of ass. Say that again and see what happens."
"Awww, man." Connor flinched and shook his head. "You've never given any other woman a chance. This is the first time you've spent more than a few hours with one. Trust me. They're all great. If you want a steady fuck, any one of the single Guardians would volunteer. Shit, most of the partnered ones would, too."
"I'm sick of fucking."
Connor stilled, staring at him in obvious stupefaction. "Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"
Aidan's laugh was harsh. "You know me, Bruce. Would I put anyone at risk without a damn good reason?"
"Men aren't the same when they're pussy-whipped. You know that. "You've seen it."
Walking to end of the porch, Aidan set his hands on the wooden rail and watched as the sky grew lighter. Tick tock. He hadn't yet bathed, and the scent of hard sex and Lyssa clung to his skin. It riled everything primitive within him, while thrusting home how unique her appeal to him was.
Their time together was not something to be washed away and forgotten.
"Look around," Aidan said, his gaze moving over the rolling mountain view. "None of this is real. It's all an illusion to keep us sane in this conduit."
"And you think what you have with this Dreamer is 'real'?" Connor snorted "It's a dream, Cross. It's all in your head. You've never touched her, kissed her, fucked her. "You're living in two different worlds. This, at least, is filled with people you know are 'real.'"
How could he explain? How could he put into words how Lyssa's dream touch was so much more alive to him than another Guardian's?
"She's a veterinarian." Aidan faced his friend. "She has a way with animals and wounded souls. She loves pasta, especially when it's served with cream sauce and sun-dried tomatoes. She drives too fast and gets a lot of tickets, but she doesn't mind. 'You only live once.' That's her motto. She loves the beach and margaritas, and looks sexy as hell in a bikini. She's dating a guy named Chad and she likes him, but it's me she wants." The last made him smile.
Connor sank to sit on the top step and dropped his blond head in his hands. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because she's not just a Dreamer, she's real. And when I'm with her, I feel real."
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Connor asked, "What will you do? It's not as if you can pull her from her slipstream and hide her."
Aidan rested his hip against the rail and crossed his arms. "I have to keep Lyssa from entering the Twilight."
"How the fuck… ?" Scowling, Connor shot to his feet.
"No way! No way in hell. You don't even know how the Elders created the fissure the first time."
"They know. It's not as if I have a choice. I don't have enough time to do anything productive here. On the Outside, I can—"
"You can what? The answers you need are in here, not out there."
"Yes," Aidan said quietly. "That's true."
Connor's eyes widened. "You want to drag me into this?"
"I'm not asking you for anything. Except your discretion. But if you're feeling altruistic and decide to help me, I won't refuse."
"Cut the crap." Connor shot him a scathing sidelong glance. "I've always been your second. Damned if I'll stop now. Then it would be my fuckup instead of yours. And this… This, my friend, is all you."
Aidan's mouth curved with a grateful smile.
Descending the three short steps to the front lawn, Connor began prowling in obvious frustration. He moved with a warrior's grace, despite his massive size, the weight of which compressed the grass beneath his feet and left a trail in his wake. "What do you need me to do?"
"After I leave, find a way into the Temple of the Elders and access the database. See if you can find a way to bring me back. I've got an idea that will allow me to work on this while I'm gone, but you're right. Most of what I'll need will be here."
"What's your plan for how you're going to reach your Dreamer?"
"It's a poor plan, but it's the only one I've got."
"Are you going to tell me what it is?"
"Well, I imagine I'll just grab an Elder and hold him hostage until he tells me what I need to do."
Connor jerked to a halt and gaped. "That's your plan? Man… she really rucked your brains out."
"Got a better idea, smart ass?"
"No." Connor kicked at the grass. "But it's a stupid plan. You have no idea if the Elders know what you're after or not."
"Well"—Aidan shrugged—"I'm about to find out."
Dressed for battle in loose trousers and tunic, Aidan slipped into the Temple of the Elders on silent feet. He moved within the shadows, ever conscious of the vids that recorded every visitor.
His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his heart slow and sure. He'd watched as the majority of Elders had departed, leaving behind the lone sentinel whose day it was to remain in secluded meditation. The single guard at the door was easily distracted by suspicious noises created by Connor, and Aidan slipped behind him and entered the cool, dark harden.
Tick tock. In the deathly silence of the stone edifice, the relentless dwindling of time was inescapable.
Aidan traversed the long hallway that led to the hon-den—a separate part of the Temple complex he doubted had ever felt the feet of a Guardian. The floor beneath him began to waver, growing translucent, revealing a swirling kaleidoscope of colors. The part of him that questioned and researched everything wanted to linger and look, but his heart urged him forward.
He paused a moment on the threshold of an arched entryway, the hairs on his neck rising with acute awareness. The warning was clear, and he never doubted his instincts. When he leaped into the round room, he was prepared for the glaive that thrust toward him, knocking it aside with a perfectly aimed parry.
He had only a split second to note the walls lined with bound volumes and a large console that dominated the center of the vast space before the gray-robed figure lunged at him again.
"You trespass, Captain," hissed the voice from the shadowed depths of the cowl. Lunging forward, wide sleeves falling back to reveal pale but brawny arms, the Elder fought with surprising ferocity.
Which did not deter Aidan at all. Focused and determined, he was coldly calculated. He had no idea what fueled the Elder, but he was fueled by desperation. Since failure was not an option, he had nothing to lose.
Forward and back, spinning and arching away from gleaming glaives in a macabre dance, neither took the advantage. Aidan wondered at this, his chest heaving only slightly from his exertions, his body too fit to feel even a hint of fatigue. He needed the Elder alive, but the Elder had no discernible reason for returning the favor.
Soon the Elder, though skilled,' began to tire. He was simply no match for an opponent who held a blade most hours and days of his life. He tripped on the hem of his robe and fell backward. As his arms flailed, his glaive flew from his hand and went skidding across the stone. Fighting for balance, he slapped his hand palm down on the surface of the center console, setting it ablaze in flashing lights.
Aidan froze in mid-swing as he saw the face revealed when the gray hood was dislodged.
"Master Sheron," he breathed, his sword arm falling.
Then he quickly raised it again, pressing the deadly point against the Elder's rapidly pumping carotid when he reached for the touchpad. "Don't."
"You must let me."
"No." Aidan studied his old teacher with wide eyes.
Pale skin, pure white hair, and pupils so wide and dark they swallowed the whites of his eyes altogether made the mentor he'd known look like a corpse of the vital man he once was.
"If you don't allow me to fix what I've done," Sheron rasped, "We will all die, including your precious Dreamer."
Aidan stilled, his gaze narrowing as a low rumble of sound permeated the soles of his feet and spread upward through his bones. "What the hell… ?"
"If you let me proceed"—Sheron lifted his chin in silent challenge—"I will tell you what you came here to learn."
Growling out a low breath and knowing he didn't have time to argue, Aidan nodded and stepped back, withdrawing his blade. The Elder immediately spun about and worked furiously at the console, eventually entering a combination of keystrokes that turned the flashing lights solid, then blue, and finally off.
