Ian reached out and put his big hand over her tiny one, and suddenly I felt like a third wheel. “Nice try,” I told him. “I’m not stepping outside to give you privacy. You ex-special forces guys are sneaky.”
Ian grinned, and I was glad to see it. “Would I do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Kylie extracted her hand, put it over his, and patted it. “While you’re here, you can finally get some sleep.”
That was news. “You’re not sleeping?”
Ian dismissively waved the hand Kylie wasn’t holding. “It’s nothing.”
Kylie harrumphed. “It’s something. And it’s not just that he’s not sleeping; it’s the nightmares.”
That was news, too. Ian wasn’t the type to share any personal issues with anyone, which meant Kylie had been there when said issues had happened. I bit my bottom lip against a smile. They were sleeping together. At least Kylie was sleeping; Ian apparently not so much.
“When did that start?” I asked him. “The nightmares.” Not their sleeping together, though I admit I was curious.
Ian shifted uncomfortably. That told me they hadn’t been a recent acquisition.
“Perhaps I should ask how long have they been going on?”
“Sleep and I haven’t been on speaking terms lately.”
I scowled at him. “Dodgy thing, aren’t you? Define lately.”
“Off and on. Now, mostly on. I had the first one five years ago, when I was in the hospital.”
“After the ghoul attack.” I didn’t ask it as a question. I knew, but I wanted to say it, to get it out there.
Ian nodded. “Every time I see him I start having the dream again.”
“The same one.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone.”
“I didn’t see a reason to. Besides, I didn’t want anyone to worry.”
“Maybe some of us should,” Kylie said. “You don’t seem to.”
Silence.
“You are worried, aren’t you?” I said quietly.
Ian half shrugged. “Sleep dulls the reflexes, slow reflexes can—”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
Ian took a long breath and let it out. Even that seemed to take too much effort. I wasn’t getting worried—I was already there.
“Describe the dream,” I told him.
“There’s a battle,” Ian said. “It’s not here, and it sure isn’t now.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know. I know the language in my dream, but not when I wake up.” He paused. “And I’m wearing armor. Old-fashioned armor, like medieval. The weapons are swords.”
My breath hitched. “And spearheads?”
“Not that spearhead. At least not that I remember. There’s a battle going on all around me. I see the armor in flashes of gold and silver. Incredible workmanship. The men wearing that armor are . . . glowing, that’s the only way I can describe it. At least their faces are glowing.”
“Like that spearhead?”
Ian hesitated, and that gave me my answer right there. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Like that spearhead.”
“What armor are you wearing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know or can’t see?”
“Yes.”
“Huh?”
“I’m wearing a helmet.”
“At least your dream self is safety conscious.”
“It has a half faceplate, with a slit for the eyes, to see out.”
And the tip of a sword blade could get in, I couldn’t help but think.
“Who are the enemies?” I asked.
Ian slowly shook his head, his eyes on the wall over my shoulder, but it wasn’t beige infirmary paint he was seeing.
“I don’t know, but I’m looking for someone. The one I need to kill.”
Now we were getting somewhere.
“Is it the ghoul?”
“I don’t know. My dream self knows. I don’t. So far, I haven’t been able to find him.”
“So it’s a man.”
“Male, not man. And no, I don’t know what he is,” Ian said before I could ask.
The ghoul had been involved in the incident at the Metropolitan Museum of Art last Halloween. And Isidor Silvanus, the elf dark mage responsible for nearly releasing Hell on Earth, had claimed the ghoul was a mutual acquaintance who wanted to “reach out” to Ian in the very near future.
It sounded like the ghoul was keeping his promise—in Ian’s dreams and reality.
“Is he in your dreams?” I asked quietly.
Ian nodded, a smooth muscle tightening in his jaw. “I haven’t seen him, but I know he’s there. I’m starting to think that the night in the jewelry store with Pete wasn’t a random event. Whether the ghoul recognized me then, or he’d set me and Pete up, or it still could have been some sick coincidence . . . the ghoul knows me from someplace.”
“Or some time,” Kylie said quietly.
I was about to take our discussion to a whole new level of strange, and Ian wasn’t going to like it. But getting to the bottom of this was more important than my partner’s paranormal comfort level.
“Ian, I think you should talk to Dr. Tierney.”
My partner didn’t look surprised by my suggestion, but I certainly wouldn’t have described his expression as happy.