Will

Waking up sometime after dawn, Will found that most of the skill fatigue he had accrued yesterday was gone, leaving him only a little sore. With Sam having thrown a beefy arm over his neck and a thick leg around his waist, Will had to wrestle his way out of bed, swearing under his breath. Sam did not stir through this, merely flopping over on her back when she lost her hold on Will and rubbing her abs in her sleep. His ear hurt from enduring her snoring into it all night.

They had a lot to do that day, but he was not about to wake her. He guessed that she could use all the rest she could get. Although, he couldn’t help but stand there and watch her for a while, tied up as she was in a complex tangle of her own blankets like a badly wrapped present. She had somehow slipped her undershirt off in her sleep and discarded it next to the bed, leaving her quite naked from the waist up. Keeping his eyes clear of her flat chest—aside from a few innocent glances—he yanked a corner of bedclothes out of her balled fist to restore her dignity with.

She was so very beautiful. And she was smiling, even in her sleep. He had always loved her smile.

Will could still not quite believe that his plan really had worked, and she was really here, right in front of him. Given the way things always went in this fucked-up place, something should have gone wrong. Oh, a few little things had, he supposed, but all in all, it had gone as well as he could ever have hoped. And she didn’t hate him, which was a plus. And she’d kissed him last night, at the end there. She had kissed him, hadn’t she? He hadn’t imagined that part, right?

Now I just have to figure out a way to tell her about her dad.

Tearing himself away so he didn’t end up staring all day, Will got dressed and left his room, crossing over into the kitchen. Number Five was just coming in the front door bearing a wicker basket of freshly gathered produce—eggs from the chicken coop, tomatoes and lettuce from the vegetable garden, and various herbs from Will’s own little plot.

He took the basket off the chimp’s hands. Number Five smiled broadly and held out a leathery hand, expectant. ‘Been good?’ he signed with his free hand. ‘Now reward?’

Will sighed, digging through his pockets until he found a half-full packet of happy puffs, tapped two of them out into the chimp’s upturned palm. When Number Five began to scamper off, Will called after him: “Hey! Is your dad still asleep?”

‘Washing,’ Number Five replied over his shoulder.

“Ah. He’s bound for the city today, then.” Mongrel only cleaned up when he planned on going whoring. Why he was only able to summon any propriety for ladies of the night, Will had no idea, but anything that got the odd little man acting—and smelling—like a somewhat normal human being for a while had his full support. If anything, Will wished he’d go more often.

Assuming that Sam would be hungry when she woke up, he tied on his apron and busied himself with making breakfast. He cooked an omelet with a dozen eggs that would hopefully be enough for everyone, then chopped a salad with lettuce, chopped tomatoes, herbs, a bit of oil, and goat cheese. Lastly, he fried up a pan of sausages.

Perhaps drawn by the smell of cooking, Sam soon shuffled into the kitchen, struggling to get her head through an unlaced tunic. Not one of the ones he had given her, Will noticed, but the one he had worn yesterday.

Sam took a seat at the table, sleepy-eyed and yawning until her jaws creaked. “I’m all achy,” she complained, rubbing at one shoulder. “It feels like someone beat me with a rolling pin.”

“Might be growing pains,” Will guessed. “You just slotted in a lot of attribute points—it’s going to take a while for it to integrate fully with your body.”

“Riiight,” Sam grumbled absently.

“Hungry?”

“Extremely.”

Will cast Prepare in triplicate to complete his work, plated up a big portion for Sam, then a more modest one for himself, and finally poured two glasses of cranberry juice before taking a seat opposite her.

Sam began eating mechanically the moment ceramic hit the table, one hand wielding a fork while she rubbed the back of her head with the other. For some reason she looked concerned, and she frowned more deeply with every bite.

“No good?” Will asked. “I’m sorry to say, I uh… don’t remember all your favorite foods anymore. That’s not my fault, though. It’s a long story.”

“No, it’s really delicious,” Sam mumbled through a bite of salad, pausing to force some sausage into her mouth so that her cheeks bulged. After swallowing, she added: “I didn’t think I’d still be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, let me ask you a hypothetical—what happens when you fall asleep in a dream?”

It was Will’s turn to frown. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been asleep in a dream.”

“Right! When you fall asleep in a dream, you’re supposed to wake up!”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Maybe? I don’t think that’s a universal thing, though.”

“Oh.” Sam chewed thoughtfully. “Then you think I’m still asleep?”

“What?”

“You know…”

“I really don’t.”

“Like how this is all a dream and stuff. I mean, it’s got to be, right?”

Will let his head fall into his hands. “That’s what you’ve been thinking this whole time?”

“I mean, kind of?”

“You’re not dreaming, Sam. You really did die, and you really did end up in this hellhole.”

“That’s exactly what the dream version of you would say.”

“Sam… Seriously.”

“I’m being serious!” Sam whined, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Wait right there,” Will said with a sigh, ignoring Sam’s questioning look as he got up and left the room.

By the time Will had been to his bedroom and back, she had cleaned off her plate and had stolen half of his sausage, chewing idly on the end of it. He placed a hand mirror down on the table between them and pointed at it. “There,” he said. “Look at that.”

Sam wiped greasy hands on her clothes—his clothes, damn her!—and picked up the mirror, looking into it. “Yes?” she said. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Can you see yourself?” Will asked.

“Yes.”

“And do you look normal?”

“Well, yes.”

“There you go, then. I’m no expert on dreams, but I know you can’t see your own reflection in a dream, or at least it won’t show up right. There are other tests we can do if you’re still feeling stubborn, but in short, you are not dreaming.” Then, after a moment, he added: “Stupid,” before finally digging into his own food. What was left of it.

“Seriously?” Sam asked, moving her face closer to the sheet of silvered glass until she was almost bumping noses with her mirror self. “I’m not dreaming?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Sam, do you really think your brain is creative enough to come up with a scenario half this ridiculous?”

“That’s so mean! But no, I guess.”

Will took a sip of juice. “Not dreaming,” he said firmly.

“Not dreaming,” Sam repeated, trancelike.

“Jesus, finally. Are we over this now? You’re really here, and this is really happening. Does that change anything you said yesterday? If it does, I understand.”

Sam’s face began to turn an alarming shade of red. Then, after struggling soundlessly for several moments, she shrieked: “Of course it changes things! I said all that embarrassing stuff last night!”

Will shrugged. “I suppose.”

“I can’t believe I said that!”

He didn’t see what the big deal was, since he had said things that were just as embarrassing. He opened his mouth to mention that when Sam ducked her head under the table. A moment later, Will felt his feet get yanked out from under him. Before he knew what was happening she’d rolled him clear onto the floor and had him in some sort of lock with her limbs wrapped all around him and an arm over his throat, his joints all screaming with pain.

“Now I’ll have to kill you, then myself, and then no one will know my shame!” Sam squealed.

Will fought a surge of claustrophobia, feeling like he was being constricted in the arms of a giant octopus. Knowing that he had no reasonable way to escape someone with her Strength, he forced himself to relax, shutting his eyes. Luckily, she wasn’t bearing down on his windpipe very hard, so he managed to hiss: “Sam, let me go. You’re being a brat about this.”

“I kissed you!”

“You did.”

“I can’t believe I did that!”

“I did enjoy it, actually, if you were wondering.”

Sam’s hold loosened a bit, her feet unhooking from the insides of his thighs. “Oh,” she said in his ear. “You did?”

“I might even return the gesture sometime, if you would be so kind as to let me go this century.”

Sam slowly unfurled, and Will affected indifference as he staggered to his feet, rolling his aching joints. “Are we done with our tantrum now?”

Looking up at him from her spot on the floor, Sam’s face split in a sunny grin. “Oh, my tantrum hasn’t even started.”

“Wh—”

Sam rolled to her feet, grasped either side of Will’s face to kiss him firmly on the mouth—sloppily, all wet lips and scraping teeth—before bumbling past him out of the kitchen. She bumped into Mongrel in the hall, who was running a hand through his thinning hair to get some water out of it, and she enfolded him in a big, crushing hug that lifted him off the floor and had him squealing like a little girl. Then she put him down, and Will padded into the hall so that both he and Mongrel watched her tumble off the front porch and roll across the green yard between the buildings.

“What’s her damage?” Mongrel wondered.

“She thought she was in a dream this whole time,” Will explained wearily. “I just cured her of that notion.”

“Ah, the ol’ denial gimmick. Happens pretty often, you know.”

“I know.”

“I did think she was taking everything in suspiciously good stride.”

“Could have mentioned that before,” Will grumbled.

Mongrel shrugged with a crooked grin. “That one’s your problem, kid. This is why I like my women by-the-hour. No drama.”

“Classy, Matt. Really classy.”

Will felt the need to step in when Sam began hugging one of the goats—Esmerelda, he thought—who had slipped her pen. The she-goat was not impressed by the human’s affection, idly chewing her cud while Sam clung to her neck, still prone on the ground.

Will went and stood over her, hands on hips. “Miss Darling? It’s about time for Esmerelda here to get back to her friends, and it’s about time for you to get up and stop acting like a nutcase.”

Sam shot to her feet, and the goat let out a baleful bleat before tottering off somewhere with less humans to interrupt her meal. Sam’s reddish hair stood out wild, and her cheeks were flushed, and she had a blade of grass caught at the corner of her mouth. Will pulled that out for her and flicked it away.

She took him in another embrace—more softly this time, thank god—and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Will stroked her soft hair, trying vainly to smooth it down. “All right, I love you too,” he said.

She laughed, and he felt her chest reverberate with the sound. Then her voice quivered, and she began to cry instead.

Will had never been too good with crying people. “Hush now,” he said. “You’re okay. Everything’s all right.”

Sam bawled and gibbered incomprehensibly into his tunic, growing steadily louder. Will kept trying to soothe her, but he didn’t know if he was making things better or worse, and he felt like a bad person over the fact that her nearness was making him excited in all sorts of inappropriate ways. He had to shift a little to avoid poking her with something potentially embarrassing.

She held him tight, clinging to him desperately, and wailed like a child. Feeling an urge to do the same, he cleared his throat and pushed it away.

Then, as abruptly as she had started, Sam fell silent. She wiped her snotty nose on his shoulder before taking a step back. She was back to beaming again, grinning more brightly than anyone he had ever seen, which made it impossible to stay mad over the trail of mucus she had left on his clothes.

“I’m okay now,” Sam declared, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy enough to start working?”

“Yes, sir!” she said with a mock salute.

“Good. Then we begin immediately.”