-28-
"Reality Check"
Dream remained unfazed. "Very well - I challenge you. The terms?"
"Simple: whoever loses, dies. Whoever wins gets the Helm. Fair?"
I leaned in and whispered to Dream: "What is this game?"
"A mental duel," he answered me, quietly. "The players take turns conjuring things, until their imagination fails them."
"5 seconds per round," said Glob, holding up all three of his clawed fingers on one hand, and two on the other, for emphasis. "No more, no less. And we must do it in neutral territory - the little one's realm would do."
Delirium cast her gaze around the room, as if confused and wanting to find out who the 'little one' was, and then belatedly realized it was her. She was flattered. "OH, uM rEAllY? My rEALm? OkaY!"
Delirium made a swirling gesture with her hands.
And then everything went all nutso-crazy around us, as Reality seemed to twist itself into a pretzel made of pure madness.
We were floating in a dimension of chaos - a flood of various colors, shapes, sounds, feelings, smells, tastes and ideas, like a collage.
God, the smells… spilt alcohol, stale smoke, body and waste odor (of all kinds), chemicals, sour milk, candy, and mold… and I don't even want to get into all the different tastes that were on the 'air', or whatever it was that filled the in-between of this place. It made the act of breathing, through my mouth or my nose, extremely unpleasant.
If I thought the raw, unfiltered Dreaming was scary, this place was 100 times worse.
At least in The Dreaming there was some semblance of order, of cohesion; sure there was a lot of weirdness going on, and a lot of it defied the normal parameters of waking life. But each little dreamworld seemed to follow its own rules at least, to operate under its own logic, to tell a story - in fact when it broke the rules, it seemed to do so intentionally, to make an even deeper point.
Delirium's realm had no such sensibility.
Random objects floated in bubbles around us: hats, sundials, lawn ornaments, reading glasses. There was no night, no day, no up, no down; there were no lines or boundaries anywhere to be found. It was as if everything merged almost seamlessly with each other, like a hazy watercolor.
And yet, at the same time, every single thing seemed to stand on its own, disconnected from everything else - so if anything had a reason or a point that it was trying to make, it was impossible to understand what it was.
The worst part was the feelings, though - in The Dreaming you could feel the overall tonality of the dreams, and therefore the emotions of the dreamers who dreamt them.
But in Delirium's realm, feelings were an element all their own, and they were always intense - a fear was never just a little niggling thing making you wary, it was a scream of absolute paranoid terror; anger was not ever just mild frustration, it was an out-of-control, hateful, vengeful, murderous rage that wanted to set the world on fire and laugh as it burned; sadness wasn't just feeling a little blue, it was drowning in a frozen sea of melodramatic sorrow.
But the most interesting thing was happiness, or its equivalent here in Delirium's realm - there really wasn't anything such as contentment, or joy... at best it was the thrill of unleashing yourself from inhibition completely, or a pleasant, buzzing numbness, like being drunk or high.
Delirium herself was swimming laps through the everything that surrounded us - upside-down, as far as we were concerned, like the non-existent body of water she was floating on was above us; but I'm sure that from her perspective, we were the ones that were oriented in a silly way. It really didn't matter - there were no wrong (or right) answers here.
Sykes and Hob were nowhere to be found - it was just me, Dream, Delirium, and the two Nightmare demons.
"It's got to be a BINDING contract," said Glob.
Glob stuck out his clawed hand, and Dream placed his hand over Glob's.
Then Brute added his hand to the pile.
"Who else?" asked Glob.
"Excuse me?"
"Brute and I both own the Helmet, jointly - I will be the one playing, but if I lose, we both die. So who're YOU gonna offer up as collateral, Dream Lord? Your sister, or this woman?"
Dream looked taken aback, but I wasn't going to wait for his answer.
I put my hand on top of the pile.
He looked at me in wonder. "Rose…?"
I looked back at him, determined. Whether he liked it or not, I was his partner - and I was gonna go all-in.
"Perfect," said Glob. Around our combined hands, there was a reddish glow - it enveloped them, and then snaked up our arms.
It sort of burned, like fire or an electrical zap, and made my heart race.
"It is done," said Dream, but I didn't really need his confirmation - I knew there was no turning back now. I just had to hope Dream knew what he was doing - because otherwise, whatever we'd allowed to enter our bodies would kill us both.
Brute stepped away from Glob, and I decided I'd do the same - with Glob and Dream squaring off like Old West gunslingers in this crazy scrapbook-world, I didn't want to get caught in any kind of magical cross-fire.
"As the challenged, I have the first move," announded Glob. "I am a dire wolf, prey stalking, lethal prowler."
Sure enough, just as he described, a wolf appeared before Dream - a huge, hulking one, with slavering jaws and menacing eyes. It growled as it moved toward Dream.
Even though I couldn't see it, I could suddenly feel grass grow beneath my feet - apparently there was more to this game of imagination than what they were describing in words.
"I am a hunter... horse mounted…" said Dream, coolly - and what appeared before him, facing the wolf, was some sort of brave-faced man in a loincloth, with long flowing hair, astride a muscular horse. He had a spear in his hand. "...wolf-stabbing," Dream finished. The hunter plunged his spear into the wolf - the wolf let out a pitiable cry of pain before it collapsed onto the imaginary ground, dead.
"I am a horsefly, horse-stinging…" said Glob, and the dead dire wolf morphed into a living, buzzing horsefly. The horsefly wasted no time in landing on the flank of the horse, and biting it. "Hunter-throwing!"
The horse reared violently with a distressed whinny, and the bareback-riding hunter fell from the horse, landing on the invisible ground with a sickening crunch of bones.
I felt sorry for the guy - such a strong, good-looking and brave warrior, conjured up only for the purposes of this high-stakes game, and already dead within moments. I knew enough about The Dreaming by this point to understand that all of this was real - even though it was also true to say that none of it was.
But as Dream took his turn, the hunter's body turned into something else - he became very hairy, and sprouted extra limbs. "I am a spider, eight-legged," said Dream, as the spider rapidly spun its web, "...fly consuming."
The fly flew into the web and got stuck there, flailing helplessly, as the spider descended upon it and sunk its fangs into its body.
This game seemed totally foreign to me at first, but then I caught on to what it was: basically, it was a more sophisticated version of that game everybody played as children. You know the one: that game where each kid would keep bringing out a new imaginary gadget, which they insisted had the ability to nullify and overcome anything the other kid had in their arsenal.
Though, that game pretty much always devolved into two kids screaming at each other - because one would have used the 'ultimate-kill-anything-dead-forever-gun', but the other would insist that their 'ultimate-block-anything-forcefield' was not only resistant to such guns, but deflects the shot back at the original shooter and kills them; they'd both insist that the other kid just surrender and accept being 'permanently-no-resurrections-allowed-DEAD', until some adult came along and told them to knock it off.
Unfortunately, I knew this game wouldn't end like that.
"I am a ssssnake," said Glob, as a snake formed from the horsefly, easily destroying the web, "poison-toothed, spider-devouring." The snake ate the spider, swallowing it whole.
I was a little surprised by this - I wouldn't have thought about a snake eating a spider, though after a moment's reflection I realized that this would be the perfect thing for really small snakes to eat (I probably would've gone with the no-duh answer and conjured up a frog or something - but it would've been embarrassingly easy to imagine something that could kill a frog).
"I am an ox, heavy-footed, snake crushing."
The pseudo-imaginary ox stamped on the snake - the snake writhed beneath its hoof, crunching the snake's spine into the non-grass.
"I am an anthrax, butcher bacterium, warm-life destroying!"
The ox suddenly fell to the invisible ground, rapidly decaying into a rotting pile of meat and bones.
Delirium stopped swimming - we exchanged glances. Even Delirium could tell that this was a concerning change of direction in Glob's gambit. What was Dream going to come up with to beat that? He only had, by the rules, 5 seconds to think of something. I certainly would've started hemming and hawing at this point, and lost.
But Dream changed up his game too, abandoning the offensive. "I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing."
A 'blue-marble-style' earth-like miniature planet appeared between the game's players - like a display in a planetarium, gently and slowly spinning.
But unlike a simple science display, this little world seemed to have its own gravitational pull - all the little object-containing bubbles floating aimlessly in Delirium's realm began to drift toward the planet, establishing orbits of their own around it. Even Delirium and I began to draw near, unable to resist its pull.
"I am a nova," cried Glob, "all-exploding… planet cremating!"
Intense light came from the direction of Glob, and blasted the miniature world - the planet broke away into little pieces and glowing sparks, which cooled and died away into dust.
"I am the universe, all things encompassing, life-embracing." Stars and galaxies appeared around us at the sound of these words, with a soft and lovely glow. Delirium reached out and plucked a star right out of a misty nebula, like a berry from a bush, and cradled it in her hands with a crazed joy.
"I am anti-life, the beast of judgement..." rumbled Glob, and as he spoke, a monstrous, demonic-looking creature made of hazy shadow formed, stalking through the sea of galaxies with eyes and a gaping maw of pure, concentrated blackness. "The darkness at the end… the end of universes, gods, worlds… of everything."
The beast opened its dark mouth impossibly wide, unhinging its jaws like a shark about to feed. It engulfed the planets, and the stars, and the galaxies… it even came after Delirium for the little star in her hand. Panicked, she threw it away - the beast bounded after it, and devoured it viciously.
Having accomplished complete destruction, the beast howled emptily, with only the sound of a harsh wind reaching our ears - and with that final sigh, either of despair or triumph, the shadow-beast collapsed in on itself… first becoming a little sphere of darkness…. and then when that became too dense for Reality to support, sinking and flattening into a deep, black hole.
The black hole began sucking everything in Delirium's realm into the abyss, including Delirium herself. "DrEEAAm!" she cried. I caught her hand, but the force of the black hole pulling her in was too strong, and I was getting pulled along with her - I caught Dream's ankle, as he just stood there calmly with folded arms.
"Ssss," hissed Glob, gloating, "And what will you be then, Dream Lord?"
In what must have been the very last microsecond of his allotted time - it's taken me way more time to describe all of this than the time it took to actually occur - Dream gave his answer.
"I am hope."
Everything stopped then - Delirium's realm was already an empty, black void of nothing. We lacked even light from an external source (there'd been plenty of light originally in Delirium's realm, -in fact so much light that it hurt your eyes and made you unable to see anything clearly) - but, in the absolute darkness, any source of light, no matter how small, will shine amazingly bright.
In this case, that source of light was Dream's own twin-star eyes. They glowed in the darkness, and illuminated us beings that remained.
In describing this to you guys, I realize that it sounds kinda creepy - but it actually wasn't. It made us feel exactly what he had described: hope. And no, hope is not exactly a joyful, or even pleasant thing - hope just IS. It comes out and slaps you with the cold, hard fact that no, it is in fact NOT over… and therefore no, you're NOT allowed to just give up, and let yourself fall into despair.
Because you have a responsibility to reach out, and embrace hope: to remember that good things have come to you before; to understand that, no matter how dark and bad things may seem for you in this current time, good exists around you that cannot be destroyed; to believe that things can, and will, be good for you again, even if you can't imagine how that would be possible…
It's a terrible burden, hope is.
Glob, illuminated by the pale light of Dream's eyes, gaped in awe.
"Oh," he said. He rubbed his chin, and scratched and rubbed at his head. "Then I am… sss… I… I…"
Glob looked at Brute, who was trembling greatly.
I could practically see Glob's mind racing behind his eyes…
And then he just stared up at Dream, blankly.
"...I don't know," he admitted, in a small and quiet voice.
"Your time is up," announced Dream. "Goodbye, little Nightmares."
Little pieces started to flake off from the skin of both Brute and Glob - they watched in horror as their bodies disintegrated. "No! No no no no NO!" cried Glob, panicked - chunks of flesh began to slough off into the void, and Glob grasped at them in vain, with fingers that were losing their claws, muscle tissue, and even bone.
With the last breath available to them from disintegrating throats, Glob screamed, and Brute roared. The sound abruptly ceased as they were stripped down to their skeletons… and then those skeletons crumbled away to ash.
The ash dispersed into the darkness.
And then the darkness faded away.
We were back in Reality again.
The White Horse Inn was completely devoid of Nightmares. Now it was just me, Dream, Delirium, Hob, and Sykes - and the last two were exactly where they were when we left. In fact, from the way they were blinking and looking confused, I don't think any time passed for them at all - as far as they were concerned, the Nightmares that were facing them just suddenly ceased to exist.
"Is that it, then?" asked Hob. "Did you win?"
"Yes," said Dream, looking at the Helmet on its display mount. "We have achieved what we set out to do." And then he turned toward Sykes.
Sykes sank against the counter, staring up at Dream with absolute horror. "Oh my god," Sykes whispered. "You're...?"
"I am Dream. The one you helped capture."
Sykes lifted a trembling hand - I guess I shouldn't have said all the Nightmares were gone, because Syke's worst nightmare was now standing before him. "I have not practiced magic for 70 years," he said. "Please-"
"What? Spare you?"
"I left the Order, after that night. We were dabbling in forbidden things…"
"That is not why you left. Whatever shadow existed upon your conscience for the deeds done to me was nothing compared to your desire for Ethel Cripps."
At that, we could hear the front door opening, and Sykes looked toward it - Ethel was standing there tentatively, trembling, having come back to see if her husband was dead.
"My LOVE for Ethel," Sykes corrected. Then he nodded. "Yes… it's true: I left mostly for her. Because I knew that a man capable of capturing such an entity - and foolhardy enough to keep it locked away, like one of his keepsakes - was a man who was far too dangerous for either of us to know. But I don't regret leaving - it was the right thing to do."
"Do you regret your part in my capture?"
"Of course I do." He glanced pointedly at the Helmet. "I wore that thing every night for years, in fear of what magicks Burgess might cast… and of what you might do if you found me."
"You believe you are redeemed, then."
Sykes shook his head. "No. You've got to earn redemption, and I've never done anything to try for it; the reason being, because I've never had a mind to take any of it back.
You suffered in that glass devil's trap, and for far too long - I'll give you that. But you've also lived an unimaginably long life, one full of magic and immense power - so, relatively speaking, 70 years trapped in your own personal Hell was nothing compared to what us mere mortals face.
If I hadn't been a part of the Order, I would have been no one - a man like me, with skin this dark, could be and often was treated by his fellow man like less than an animal... like less than dirt.
I can't change the way I look to people, like you can - I'm trapped in this mortal shell. I can't change who I am either - where I was born, who I was born to, and all the limitations and baggage that comes with that.
I got lucky - I found my way into a club of people who let me share in their secret power, as one of their brothers; who elevated me, and painted me as someone special… no longer just a man, but a magus.
They weren't nice people, and were morally rotten to their core - they exploited their power in ways just as dark and self-serving as the people who dominated based on race and skin color. But they never treated me like I was a subhuman slave, as others had done. It makes me sad to think of it now - but at the time, even that kind of basic, meager respect for my humanity was a treasure beyond price.
If I hadn't been a part of the Order, I never would have met Ethel, love of my life.
And if I hadn't been there that night, to participate in your summoning, I never would have known about the Helmet - the Helmet that allowed me the courage to leave with the woman I loved, the Helmet that went on to protect me for all those sleepless nights, for all those years."
Sykes had stopped trembling - he was seeming more emboldened with every passing moment. He may have been rightfully terrified, but he was not a weak or cowardly man, that was for sure.
"So you see… regret can be a funny thing, Dream-man," he went on. "I regret having hurt you... and I'm truly sorry that the greatest joys I've managed to get in this life have been, partially, at your expense.
But if you're asking me whether I would go back and change anything - to earn both your forgiveness, and my soul's redemption - the answer would be no. I'd do it all over again, the same way - even though it meant me ending up right here, at this moment, at your mercy.
I've never had the power to take the vengeance I was owed. I've done many things in my life, but my conscience would never allow me to indulge that particular desire: to make people pay for their transgressions against me, and those like me.
But if your own conscience is less tyrannical than mine, then by all means... do what you must."
Dream regarded him for several silent moments, before bowing his head. "Thank you for your candor," said Dream. "I no longer retain a thirst for vengeance, Ruthven Sykes. You have nothing to fear from me."
I breathed a sigh of relief - good, I thought. Good Dream. You're learning.
Ethel, behind me, let out a full cry of relief, and ran past us to Sykes. She knelt near him, and they embraced, tearfully.
"I will ask, however, that you relinquish my Helmet," said Dream.
"It's yours," said Sykes, voice croaked by emotion. "By all means, take it."
Dream lifted the Helmet off of its display mount. His fingers passed reverently over the face of it - gazing at it like an old lover, or family member, or a close friend.
But then, the sound of alcohol pouring drew our attention to Hob, who'd made his way behind the bar. He looked down at Sykes. "Don't suppose you'd object, if we attend to a 'thirst' of a different sort?"
Sykes simply smiled, and nodded.
The Sykeses retired upstairs to their little room above the bar. I cleaned up the mess of broken glass, and joined Dream and Hob at their table (Delirium was sitting underneath, hugging her knees, looking agitated).
Dream only briefly described the dry facts of his capture, and Hob expressed his sympathy, saying that was rough business. And then he focused on me. "So then," Hob said, "how'd you get mixed up in all this, Rose-petal?"
I flushed. "Well, I…" I had no idea where to begin.
"My Dream-Ruby came into her possession," said Dream. "This has imparted certain powers upon her, which have proved vital to my efforts."
"Ah," said Hob, knocking back another swig of beer. He seemed completely satisfied with that answer.
"How do you two know each other?" I asked.
"We've been meeting at this Inn for… what is it now, four centuries? Only once a century, mind - Dream's a busy man." Hob looked at Dream. "Usually it's not so eventful. You remember the last we met? When that she-wolf barged in on us?"
"That was the time before last, Hob."
"Ah yes, you're right. Time before last. But you remember, don't you?"
"Of course. You're referring to Lady Constantine."
"She was a rude little thing, wasn't she? Thought she'd discovered the Devil and the Wandering Jew having a secret rendezvous. You told her 'I'm no Devil' and I said 'And I'm not Jewish.' Still pulled a gun on us and demanded we get in her carriage, though - it was a good thing you were able to put the hoodoo on her, making her see old ghosts so we could escape. Nasty piece of work, that little trollop..."
"What did she want?" I asked.
Hob shrugged. "Beats me," he said. "A favor, maybe. More pawns to do her dirty work... like the way in which her however-many-great-grand-nephew John has been 'managing' that poor swamp man down in Louisiana. Who knows."
"What's this about John and a… 'swamp man', you said?"
"Oh, so you know him," remarked Hob. "You been shagging him?"
I set my glass down hard. "HOB!" I cried, indignantly.
"Hey now, don't you 'Hob' me," he teasingly reprimanded. "I'm not one to lecture, especially not where it concerns a Constantine - if he's anything like ol' Jack Constantine, I'd be more surprised if he HADN'T in short order found his way into the skirts of someone like you, pretty as you are."
Flattery wasn't going to help him. "Well prepare to be amazed, Hob, because he hasn't," I said, hotly. I glanced quickly at Dream, instinctively wanting to see if, and how, he might respond.
Big mistake. Hob caught sight of it.
He looked between the two of us, his expression hovering between incredulous amusement and disapproval, as he deliberated about what to say - but then he gave up and sighed. "Like I was saying… I'm not one to lecture, or tell you who to be getting involved with. I always knew you weren't likely to end up in a 'normal' relationship... if there is such a thing, for people like us." Then he brightened. "Though I might've found something close to it, for the time being: her name's Gwen."
"Oh, that's great Hob," I said, thankful for the change of subject. "Where'd you guys meet?"
"A bloody Renfaire, if you can believe it," said Hob, with chagrin.
I laughed. "How'd you get roped into going? I thought you hated stuff like that."
"I do," he said, taking another swig. "I guess you could call it morbid curiosity - I always want to see what people in the current time THINK the past was like. They're always wrong, of course.
For one thing, there's never enough shit. Cow shit. Horse shit. People shit. You waded through the stuff… the biggest thing these Renfaires could do for historical accuracy, to make it a more real 'experience' for their visitors, it would be to spray 'em all with shit as they come through the gates."
"Hob, they're just trying to dress up and play pretend - you know, for fun. Something you'd understand, if you weren't such a horrible old curmudgeon."
"Nah - even before I got old, I never understood the concept behind having 'nostalgia' for a time you never lived in - you can't be nostalgic for something you have no memories of.
Besides… I DO have memories of the past, and I hate most of 'em - especially the ones that don't involve women (women make everything better - 'til they die on you, turning all those good memories bittersweet. Or if they decide to make your life a living Hell so you WISH you were dead yourself… you know what, forget it, it's all a mixed bag).
I say there's never any time as good as the present. For one thing, there's indoor plumbing now - all the shit and piss goes away with a simple flush. That's ingenuity. That's progress. It's something to be thankful for.
You know what I've realized, living a life this long? How much of it I have literally shit and pissed away. I counted it up one time… I worked out that I'd spent over six years all told, just pissing. Six years of piss. That's a LOT of piss.
It's a wonder anything gets accomplished, what with most everybody being given, at most, about a hundred years or so, to live a life worth living and have something left behind at the end to be proud of... and so much of that time ends up wasted on the emptying of bladders and bowels. With that kind of a raw deal, EVERYBODY ought to be immortal - so they have a chance to get some actual bloody things DONE.
I've had over 400 years to figure it out - and you know what I've accomplished? Fuck all, that's what. Oh I've made fortunes, and I've lost fortunes - in equal measure - and I've loved, and I've lost… but ultimately, I've done nothing to move the needle forward on humanity's progress. Hell, if anything I think I've contributed MORE misery to the human condition than anything positive."
"You helped me," I said. "That's something."
"Yeah… but if I was any kind of decent, I would've just adopted you and raised you myself," he said, staring at his beer with deep regret. "As my own child, without pawning you off on others who would never understand you."
"You forget, Hob," I said gently, "that I'm the one that chose to live with the Walkers. You didn't abandon me."
Some strong emotion stung the edge of his mouth and the corner of his eyes, making them tear up - emotion that he couldn't deal with. He drank some more. "I was never cut out to be a father," he continued, when he came up for air. "Least that's what I always told myself. Always felt that's why I could never father one of my own - that it was destiny, or somesuch, preventing me from going there and making a mess of it. Wouldn't have wanted some little idiot version of me running around, making the same mistakes, following my shitty example.
I figured it wouldn't be the same with you - you weren't cursed with my name, my legacy, or my personality traits. So I could just warn you to stay away from all the bad stuff, and wish you farewell - because overall, you'd be better off without me. But look how that turned out - I warn you that magic is bad business and not to go anywhere near it, and here you are, messin' about with gods and warlocks."
"I am not a god: I am the personification of dreams."
"Close enough, friend. I can call you that now, can't I?"
"Of course. Disregard my outburst at the end of our last meeting - I should not have taken offense at the statement of a simple truth."
Hob finished off his mug of beer with one final, epic knocking back, and then let out a satisfied 'Aaah!" like goddamn Viking.
"So… is this sort of thing how you wooed Gwen?" I asked, resting my cheek on my propped-up hand. "Rants about human waste?"
"More or less," he admitted.
"How romantic."
"Oh it got worse, believe me - included some stuff about what slavery was REALLY like, and argued with her about whether Catherine of Aragon counted as a black queen of England - she didn't think so, and I told her that if Catherine had been in Alabama in the 1950's they'd have made her ride in the back of the bus. Gwen's black, by the way."
"Wow, charming: a patronizing black history lesson, marinated in mysterious white guilt, and served to a black woman. I'm really surprised she still went out with you, after that. So, uh… did you ever stop deep-throating your foot long enough for her to kiss you?"
"Told her I was a history professor - had to, otherwise she would've killed me. In self-defense." We shared a small laugh. But then he suddenly sobered and frowned at me disapprovingly. "But watch that vulgar language, girl - it's unladylike."
"It's nearly the end of the 20th century, Hob - a girl doesn't have to act like a lady, these days."
He sighed. "Great, now you're gonna make me 'nostalgic' for something. Maybe I should be glad that Gwen romanticizes the past... I'll take a black queen over some foul-mouthed 'modern' girl any day."
"So…" I said, lowering my voice to barely above a whisper, "are you going to come out to her as a metahuman?"
That piqued Dream's interest. "Metahuman?"
"Yeah, like superheroes. Only me and Hob aren't exactly Justice League material."
Dream raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also bemused.
"I don't think he knows about them," said Hob. "They only appeared in the last century, while he was in the clink." Hob refocused on Dream. "They're anybody who is more-than-human, but the most famous of them go about saving random unfortunates from mishaps and evildoers - all while wearing masks, capes and tights, as if they came straight from a dress rehearsal at the opera and forgot to change."
"For what purpose?"
Hob shrugged. "Beats me. They're a strange lot."
Dream took on that look again, like he was listening to or watching a movie that only he could perceive. He smiled slightly. "One of them is from Krypton."
"That's right - the boy-man in red, gold and blue; Truth Justice and the American Way. Apple pie, and all that nonsense…" Hob turned back to me. "As for whether I'm to tell Gwen, the answer is 'no'. Call me a coward, but unless I decide to break things off early - which is looking unlikely with Gwen - I mostly just wait until they figure it out themselves. She'll be furious though, when she does."
"Why's that?"
"Because she'll demand to know why I didn't tell her sooner. And then she'll realize why I've been like this - and in light of this new information, she'll want to review, and re-litigate, every single argument and minor difference of opinion we've ever had. Trust me, I've been down this road before."
"Have you considered…?"
"Throwing in the towel? Game over, all done? Naw… I'm not ready to die, not just yet. Maybe not ever. Besides, Gwen'd kill me."
"DrEAm yOU'Re LOOkiNg aLL saDLy," said Delirium, under the table. "NoT thAT i cARe, i juSt tHouGHT yOU shOULd knOW."
Hob looked concerned, taking note along with me that Dream was, in fact, staring at the table with a distant but palpable gloominess.
"You're thinking of her, aren't you?" asked Hob quietly. "Your own black queen."
"Nada was never mine, Hob Gadling,"said Dream, in a murmur barely more than a whisper. "She never belonged to anyone... except, perhaps, to herself. I set out to rescue her, nearly a century ago; but Hell was empty, and she was gone. Shortly thereafter, because of this excursion, I lost everything. Now that I have reclaimed my Helmet, I shall be establishing new management for Hell - hopefully, once all those who were bound to Hell return, I shall be able to recover her and free her at last." Dream looked up. "I have decided: I have no liking for prisons, Hob."
"I know," said Hob. "That was clear when you said that it was a poor thing to enslave another, and suggested I find meself a different line of business. And I did. Freed not only them, but me as well - from a cage I couldn't even see before then.
We often build our own traps, I think - and then we back into them, pretending to be amazed the whole time. But whether that's the case or no, my friend, it's still a worthy thing to open cages - to free the imprisoned. You taught me that."
Dream nodded. Then, he bent down and looked at Delirium.
"We shall be going now. Are you ready to leave?"
"GO aWaY."
"Are you upset with me, little sister?"
"WhY wOULd i bE? YoU oNLy deSTroYed my realm and have been nasty to me this entire time."
Dream got off the chair and knelt down on the floor. "I… I wish to apologize for my behavior of late. I have not been myself. I shall see to it that your realm is returned to its former state, as quickly as I am able. But for now, if you are willing to travel with me… I would like for you to return to The Dreaming with me."
"UM. DREam? Do yoU LiKe mE?"
"Yes… I suppose I must do, Delirium. You entertain me. And it distresses me to see you troubled."
"REaLLy?"
"Really."
"WeLL… i liKe yOU tOO, i thiNK. WheN yoU doN't tEAse mE."
"I'm glad to hear it. Now that the matter is settled, and we are once again on friendly terms, I have a gathering to arrange - one to which you are formally invited."
Delirium crawled out from underneath the table, excited. "A pARTy? OH yaY! ThaT sOUnds LiKe fUN!"
Sounds like Hell, I thought.