AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At least here in the dreamworld, Isobel reasoned, she could see her assailants.
Hissing and whispering, the Nocs inched closer, their bodies clinking and clattering as they jostled one another. But as they bared their claws, drawing tighter, Isobel began to note a difference in their demeanor.
In her past encounters with the Nocs, they had always laughed and jeered among themselves, sharing in some mutual and heinous mirth.
Pinfeathers, in particular, had displayed a penchant for an especially dark brand of humor. His malevolent glee, Isobel recalled, had been interrupted only by intense emotions like fear or rage.
Or love . . .
Of course, Isobel didn’t have to guess which emotions had triggered the shift in these Nocs, not one of which smiled or snickered.
Instead they sneered and glowered, their sharp, broken faces fixed in glares of hatred.
We are hurt, Pinfeathers had said to her in the park. And only now, as the creatures stared past her, through her, to their source—Varen—was she able to fully comprehend what the leader of Varen’s Nocs had meant.
Isobel would not be able to fight these Nocs, let alone defeat them, like she had with Scrimshaw. There were too many to fend off with blows or dreamworld tricks, and despite her track record of landing lucky punches, Isobel knew she was unequipped for this battle.
“What are they?” Gwen asked, her voice trembling as hard as her hand in Isobel’s. “Please tell me this isn’t real.”
“They can’t hurt you or me,” Isobel said. Huddling nearer to Gwen, she hoped her words—the only remotely comforting ones she could think to offer—were indeed still true.
Varen opened his arms wide and splayed both hands, as if that might somehow force the creatures to retreat.
The action only drew them nearer.
Gwen clung to her harder as Isobel fought a rising tide of helplessness. Then her racing thoughts latched on to what she’d just told Gwen. About their being protected.
“Varen,” Isobel said, pressing her back flush to his. “The Nocs. They couldn’t harm me before. Even when they tried. None of them could. Because of you. Because they come from you, and in your mind, you wouldn’t let them. Because you cared for me. About me.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but if you have a point—”
“They can’t get to you unless you let them. Like you wouldn’t let them get to me.”
“Weak,” whispered one of the snarling Nocs.
“Worthless,” snapped another.
“Surprising as you may find it,” Varen replied, his voice as doleful as it was dry, “I somehow doubt they share the same affinity for me.”
Isobel’s heart stammered a beat at this response and she scowled, arrested by how much Varen had just sounded like . . .
Breaking free from Gwen, Isobel rushed to stand in front of him. Though she saw no sign of Pinfeathers’s presence, no evidence that the Noc could have somehow rejoined with Varen, she now found herself wondering if the two had ever truly been separate to begin with.
“Don’t you see?” she said, gripping him by the arms. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“Screwup,” came another hiss.
“Waste.”
“Ignore them,” Isobel urged. “Tune them out. Focus on me. On what I know you know in here.” She pressed a hand against his chest—his heart.
“I can’t fight them.” He shook his head without looking at her. “And I can’t send them away with a thought. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“You don’t have to fight,” Isobel said. “Not when they only have as much power as you give them. These things answer to you. To your deepest thoughts. Your unconscious desires. Please, say you understand.”
“I’m afraid I do,” she heard him mutter, his eyes at last shifting to hers.
“I need you,” Isobel said through gritted teeth. “She is losing and she knows it. Why else would she send them?”
