Chapter 23: The Dreamcatcher

It took Dreamer a moment to adjust, when she finally opened her eyes. After a moment's inspection, she realized that the soft cloud she was laying on was, in fact, a hotel bed. The white sky above her was actually a ceiling. The incessant ticking sound that in her dreams represented a clock of endless time, was actually Jezran's magical pocket watch.

Jezran sat nearby in a chair, legs crossed and hands folded on his lap as he politely waited for her to wake up. Midnight was there too, leaned against the wall and staring at her. But for the ticking of the pocket watch, there was utter silence.

It was sort of an unsettling situation to wake up in…

"Syllest…" She sat up with a groan, her body aching. The memories of the rooftop battle came flooding back to her, and all that mattered was knowing if Syllestra was okay.

Pops gestured toward the open door that connected the two hotel rooms. Dreamer could just make out a black blob of hair on the bed. Syllestra was safe and sound asleep. Nothing could have brought her more relief.

She leaned back against the pillow, wincing at the strain it put on her body. Using her magic, the way she had, had definitely taxed her. "What happened?"

"I took the criminal into custody and turned him in to the town guard, dear me," Jezran said with the tip of his hat.

"Oh…" she thought for a moment, as the cogs continued to work again in her brain. A spark of remembrance lit in her eyes, along with a spark of panic. "Did you question him first?" She looked between the two of them, frantically. "He worked for Res… He worked for him!" She glanced at the door to where Syllest was sleeping, worried that she would wake and overhear the conversation. "He's after her, Pops…" She lowered her voice to say this, pink eyes wavering in fear.

"Yes, that would appear to be the case, dear me…" Jezran sighed and unfolded his legs. "Unfortunately, the thug—Jacque, as it were—had very little information to offer. He had only been under the employ of The King of Diamonds for a very short period of time. Two months, approximately. And his employer was very secretive, dear me."

"King of Diamonds…" She repeated the name quietly. It felt like poison on her tongue.

"Yes. That is the name he has adopted, dear me."

A king? Him? The only kingdom she could imagine that man reigning over, was hell. And if he had a royal line, it was a line of destruction. "Did Jacque know what he wants? With Syllest? What he's planning?"

Jezran simply shook his head. Dreamer's fists clutched the bed-sheet, white-knuckled and trembling. She couldn't stop thinking about how real he'd seemed. About how, for a brief moment, she thought she and Resmond were standing less than twenty feet from one another—the closest she had been to him since…

"I'm intrigued," Midnight spoke up. He looked questioningly at her and twisted a strand of white hair around his fingers. "Who is this 'King of Diamonds?'"

"No one," she snapped in immediate response. "It's absolutely none of your concern."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was highly unlike her to be so defensive. Except for when it came to Syllestra, it seemed.

"My dear," Jezran said gently, he made no effort to reach out to her, perhaps because he knew it would do no good. "There is nothing we can do for the time being. I have informed Master Makarov of the situation. You must not worry yourself to death, dear me."

She knew he was right, and yet… Her hands were still shaking.

Midnight watched her with a heightened curiosity, drawn by the obvious expressions of fear she was exhibiting.

She thought back to the battle—to the horrible nightmare and Resmond and Jacque… Then back to the mortifying image of Midnight's hand outstretched, manipulating the glove holding Syllestra's throat.

"On the rooftop…" She looked back up, at Jezran. "You were waiting to catch Syllest on that bike, weren't you?"

Jezran nodded. "It was sir Macbeth's plan all along." He cast his eyes on Midnight with a sort of guarded respect.

That was why there had been no screaming. That was why the child was breathing in the room next door.

She stood from the bed and took the three steps to where Midnight was standing. They stared at each other for a long moment. Her pink eyes were wilder than usual—not like slowly drifting cherry blossoms, but like petals caught in a hurricane. And his expression was empty, monotone red eyes fixed on hers in a totally unconcerned way.

SLAP

Her palm connected with his cheek so quickly that he had no time to even gasp in surprise.

"You bastard…" She glowered at him while he clasped his hand over his cheek in utter astonishment, the red already spreading in a hand shaped print on his pale skin. "You traumatized her! Did you see how scared she was?!"

All she could think about was Syllest's terrified eyes as she stared at Midnight in front of her. The tears running down the child's face as someone she trusted morphed into a monster before her very eyes.

Midnight regained composure slowly. He could have hit her back and she knew it. Instead, his face was cold and calm—unremorseful.

"I had no choice," he said, coolly. "Had I showed kindness to Syllest, the pig would not have fallen under my illusion of terror. I needed him to think I was a monster. I needed him trembling in fear."

Dreamer's lips pinched in disbelief and frustration. Tears welled up in her eyes but she forced them down, refusing to let them spill. She stared hard at him. "Don't you ever do that again!"

He said nothing, just looked at her with the same stony expression.

Then, her eyes softened.

"Thank you…" she gave a small, weak smile. "You saved her."

He looked away without emotion—carefully and perfectly guarded.

She finally stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "We need to go home." Home, where it was safe.

"Agreed," Jezran nodded. "We were simply waiting for your recovery, dear me. I will go check us out of the rooms now." He stood and straightened creases in his pressed pant-legs.

Midnight put his thumbs in his pockets and walked out the hotel room door, with brisk intent. Neither Dreamer nor Jezran made any effort to follow him, despite the fact that he had complete control of his magical energy now, and he knew it.

Last night's events made her confident that he wouldn't run.

An hour later, Jezran, Dreamer, and Syllest stood in front of the hotel with their bags. The child had not said much, and Dreamer had no idea what to say to her either. The things happening around Syllest were much bigger than a seven-year-old could possibly comprehend. But the girl did understand some things. She understood that a man had tried to kidnap her. She understood that Midnight told the man to drop her. This combination of the things she did know and the thing she didn't, manifested itself in fear, shown by the way she clung to Dreamer's shirt from the moment she'd woken up, refusing to leave her side.

They hadn't seen Midnight since he walked out of the room earlier. Now they waited, uncertainly, for him to show up. Just as Jezran and Dreamer were debating going to the train station to wait, his dark form emerged from the crowd.

Syllest quickly wrapped her arms around Dreamer's leg and hid partially behind her. The sight made Dreamer's heart twist in pain and sorrow. She rested her hand on Syllest's head. "It's okay, sweetie. He's…" What? Not bad? That wouldn't be true to tell her at all. Midnight was bad. But… he was good too.

The man's red eyes rested on the child, and he stopped walking. His expression was still unreadable—his lips a hard line.

He took a knee, a few feet in front of her. He said nothing. Did not smile, nor frown, nor narrow his eyes or widen them. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace with a new black chain and a handmade dreamcatcher pendant. Not breaking her gaze, he reached up and clasped the necklace around his own neck.

Syllest's eyes opened wide. She thought for a long minute, staring at the crude dreamcatcher she'd made for him, securely nestled below his collarbone. She seemed conflicted, as if she wasn't sure this action would make up for the terror he'd put her through—as if she couldn't decide whether or not to trust the dual-haired, intimidating wizard kneeling a few feet away. She stepped forward, trembling ever-so-slightly as tears began to sparkle in her big eyes. Then…

"Macbeth!" She leapt at him, sending droplets of shining tears into the air behind her.

He gasped when she jumped into his arms and nuzzled her little face against his hair. His cheeks took a reddish hue, matching his retracted red eyes. With a shaking hand, he awkwardly patted her back in response, as she squeezed him tightly and cried into his hair.

Dreamer looked at Jezran, who was smiling warmly. He looked back and put an arm around her shoulder, giving a light squeeze. "You see, dear Dreamer?" He spoke gently and returned his gaze to Syllest and Midnight—where at the moment, Syllest was jabbering on and on about a rock she'd found while Midnight was unsuccessfully trying to pry her off of him. "Good has come from this weekend. You must not count it all as loss and fear. There is always hope, dear me. Was it not you who taught us all that very message?"

Tears rolled down Dreamer's cheeks and she nodded. She was overwhelmed with emotion at the example of repentance and forgiveness being played out in front of her very eyes—marked by the genuine smile that touched Midnight's lips when Syllest began to excitedly ramble about how "totally cool" he'd looked when he emerged from the fog on the rooftop. If there was hope for forgiveness here—now—then there must always be some shred of it to be found anywhere, in any situation.

There is always hope, even for you, Macbeth.