The Ninth Nightmare

‘Oh, my God,’ said Rhodajane.

Springer said, ‘That was him, I’d lay money on it. That was Gordon Veitch, or his copycat. You didn’t have any nightmares last night, did you, Rhodajane?’

‘If I did, I can’t remember them. I was so bushed I slept like ten babies. Two bottles of Chardonnay didn’t exactly help to keep me awake, either.’

Springer said, ‘Maybe the dream image in this room isn’t as powerful as some of the others. Maybe Gordon Veitch didn’t actually kill the woman you saw in the mirror — only mutilated her. Pain, of course, is a very efficient conductor of spiritual images, but nothing like as graphic as the passing of a human spirit. It could very well be that the woman he attacked here could still be alive, someplace — either in the waking world or the world of dreams.’

‘What, like, sawn in half?’

‘It’s amazing what the human body can withstand. You remember when we went to Fort Hood, John, and saw that young corporal crushed under a tank track? He was talking and laughing like nothing had happened. He even smoked a cigarette while he was lying there.’

‘Oh, sure,’ said John. ‘He was fit as a fiddle until they moved the tank off of him.’

Springer said, ‘Anyhow, we need to go looking for Gordon Veitch as a matter of extreme urgency. The music from Brother Albrecht’s circus is growing louder and nearer every night. The chaos is coming closer, and you have no idea what this world is going to be like when it arrives.’

‘Yeah, the January sales at Dillard’s.’

‘You will be ready to go tonight, won’t you, Dom Magator?’ Springer asked him.

‘Tonight? Hey — I’m not so sure about that. I have a late shift tonight, finishing at one.’

‘In the case you’ll have to cancel it. Xyrena?’

Rhodajane swiveled around to see who he was talking to before she realized that she was Xyrena.

‘Me? Tonight? You’re kidding. I have my grandma’s funeral this afternoon, and then a reception afterward.’

‘Xyrena, it’s critical. You have to join us.’

Rhodajane pulled a face. ‘Well… they’re holding the reception right here, in the Griffin Room. I guess I could find an excuse to sneak off a little early. To tell you the truth, it would be a relief. My family make the Munsters look normal.’

Springer said, ‘I need you asleep by one a.m. at the latest. And — please — try to keep your drinking within reasonable limits. Too much alcohol can affect your dream body as well as your waking perceptions, and the chances are that you’re going to have to make plenty of split-second judgments.’

‘Talking of my dream body, Mister Old-Army-Buddy-Who-Ain’t-Really, I still have no idea what my dream body is going to look like. If I can turn on “man or woman, demon or beast”, I must look pretty damned hot.’

Springer raised his eyebrows. ‘You do. You will. I promise you.’

‘Then show me. You showed me what he’s going to look like — Dom Magator. Let me see me.’

Springer hesitated, and looked across at John, but John pulled a face that meant, why not? She’s going to find out anyhow, and sooner rather than later.

‘Very well, then,’ said Springer. ‘Step over here and face the mirror. Try to empty your mind as much as you can. Think of nothing at all, but the surface of a lake.’

Rhodajane stood in front of the mirror, still with her arms folded. Springer said, ‘Relax, now. Arms by your sides. Breathe very gently, as if you’re floating on the water.’

‘Old army buddy or not,’ Rhodajane said to John, out of the side of her mouth. ‘Your friend here is some character, isn’t he?’

‘Please, Xyrena, relax.’

Rhodajane stared at her reflection, and to begin with it was obvious that she was trying very hard not to laugh. After a few seconds, however, the air around her head began to glitter and sparkle, as if it were filled with scores of tiny fireflies, and a high curved crown began to appear on top of her head, made up of the finest filaments of light. Two curving epaulets appeared on her shoulders, as high as the epaulets of a Japanese gala costume, and then, with a soft rumble, a huge cloak of rich golden fabric billowed out from her shoulders, rising and falling and curling in a dream wind that none of them could feel.

Around Rhodajane’s neck seven gleaming gold neck-rings materialized, so that it looked as if her neck were elongated. At the same time the diamond-shaped heads of two golden snakes peeped out from between the toes of each foot. They slid out and formed themselves into an elaborate pair of very high heels — first of all coiling themselves into the shape of shoes and then pouring relentlessly up her calves and around her knees, around and around her thighs, until they finished up as a pair of high golden boots.

But it was the gradual appearance of her breastplate that made Rhodajane’s mouth slowly drop open. It was a perfect replica of her naked torso, in highly-polished gold. Her big, full breasts, complete with dimpled nipples. Her slightly rounded stomach; and her navel, like a tiny shining mollusk. Below that shone a golden facsimile of her plump, bare vulva, complete with a peeping clitoris.

‘Oh my Gawwd,’ she said. ‘I cannot walk around like this, flaunting my pussy! Not even in somebody’s dream!’

‘I did tell you,’ said Springer. ‘Xyrena arouses man or woman, demon or beast.’

‘But I’m showing everything I’ve got. Well, I’m not really, but as good as.’

‘Xyrena is the ultimate paradox,’ Springer told her. ‘She attracts, she arouses, she fascinates. Did you know that the word “fascinates” comes from fascinum, which was a penis-shaped object worn around the neck in Ancient Rome, and often used in medieval witchcraft? If a woman fascinates a man, she gives him an erection, and that’s just what Xyrena does. But even though it looks so revealing, nothing can penetrate Xyrena’s armor, and believe me, Xyrena herself is deadly.’

Rhodajane pouted at herself in the mirror. She struck an exaggerated pose to the left and then to the right, and then she slowly tottered around in a circle. Underneath her voluminous gilded cloak, her back was armored in the same polished gold, with her shoulder blades and her dimpled buttocks as perfectly replicated as her breastplate.

‘Well, I don’t know…’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘Maybe I could get used to this I do have a pretty good figure, though I say it myself.’

‘But what’s the point?’ John asked Springer. ‘OK, fine, she turns people on. As a matter of fact, she’s making me feel distinctly twitchy in the BVD department right now. But why does she do it?’

‘Hold out your hands, Xyrena,’ Springer instructed her. ‘That’s right. Spread out your hand so that your fingers are totally rigid.’

Rhodajane did as she was told, and almost immediately eight long fine needles slid out, one from the tip of each finger. The needles were at least three inches long, and slightly curved inward.

‘Xyrena arouses her intended prey until they’re blinded with lust,’ Springer explained. ‘Then she takes them into her arms and embraces them — whether it’s a he or a her or an it. All she has to do then is run these needles into their back. They’re forged out of an alloy of titanium and ultrasound, way beyond the range of human hearing, and they can pierce through anything. Skin, leather, chitin, armor. Absolutely nothing can bend them or deflect them.’

‘So she gives her prey a few little pricks,’ said John. ‘Then what?’

Rhodajane turned around to face him and struck another pose, her hands on her hips, her crowned head slightly tilted to one side. ‘I’m really turning you on, aren’t I, John?’

‘Let’s just get this over with, shall we?’ John protested. ‘I have to go eat before I can think about sleeping.’

Springer said, ‘The needles enter the victim’s veins and his blood literally boils. It usually takes less than twenty seconds for his entire blood supply to evaporate, and that’s between five and six liters. Then, of course, he’s dead. It’s a very effective way of killing somebody at very close quarters.’

‘Do you have anybody in particular in mind?’ John asked him. ‘This clown guy, for instance?’

Springer didn’t answer, but closed the closet door so that Rhodajane’s Night Warrior costume instantly