"I think it could take the spider monkey," I told her.

Kayla said nothing but just watched me with those huge blue eyes. They were filled with such trust and sweetness—just like my daughter in the dream. How amazing would it be to do this every night? To tuck someone in and kiss her forehead, then wake up with her each morning?

Suddenly, fearing I might cry in front of a four-year-old, I started to rise. To my complete astonishment, she held out her hand and touched my arm.

"Georgina."

Her voice was small and soprano and sweet. I sat back down. "Hmm?"

"Don't leave," she said.

"Oh, honey. I have to. You need to sleep."

"Monsters will come."

"What monsters?"

"The bad ones."

"Ah. I see. Are they under your bed?" I was pretty sure that's where most monsters lived. Aside from the ones I played poker with and bought Secret Santa presents for.

She shook her head and pointed up at the ceiling. "They live there. In space."

"Are they aliens?" As much as I hated the thought of her being afraid to go to bed, I was rather enchanted to be having a conversation with her for the first time ever. She was as articulate as all the other girls—not that I should have been surprised by that.

"No. They're monsters. They swoop in the air and go in people's dreams."

I caught on to her reluctance to sleep now. "Have you been having nightmares?"

"No. But the monsters are there. I feel them."

Something about her words and the serious set of her face sent a chill down my spine. "You want me to stay until you fall asleep? Will that keep them away?"

"Maybe," she said. She touched my arm again. "You're magic."

I wondered then if Kayla might be a psychic in the making, like Erik or Dante. The way she spoke implied more than a childhood belief in magic. There was almost an authority there. She'd be worth keeping an eye on, but I wouldn't pursue anything now. I certainly wasn't going to start quizzing her about auras.

"Okay," I said. "I'll stay."

I lay down beside her, and she studied me in silence. I began humming an old song, which made her smile and close her eyes. When I finished, she opened her eyes again.

"What are the words?"

"Eh…" That was hard to answer. It was a song from my mortal life, one that had been composed in an ancient Cyprian dialect no one spoke anymore. My husband used to sing it to me. Knowing I couldn't reproduce the rhymes or any sort of good translation on the spot, I simply sang it to her in the original language. The syllables, familiar yet strange, came awkwardly to my lips.

When I finished, Kayla didn't say anything or move. I waited a couple more minutes and slowly got out of the bed. She continued sleeping. Turning off the light, I left the room and returned to the Monopoly players. Seth smiled at my approach and made room for me beside him on the floor.

"Luddites burn your mill. Pay five-hundred dollars." Brandy grimaced at her Chance card. "Weak."

"That's not as much as I had to pay when the Factory Acts cut my child labor force a couple turns ago," Maddie pointed out. As I'd hoped, she seemed perfectly at ease now.

Kendall rolled the dice and moved her miniature pewter Oliver Twist book ahead three spaces. "I wish I had a job, so I could save capitalism for my investments."

"Capital," the rest of us said in unison.

Kendall glanced up at me. "I could work at your bookstore. Under the table."

"Like stacking books under the table?" asked Brandy.

Kendall ignored her. "Don't you need extra help?"

I ruffled her hair. "Not until you're of age, I'm afraid."

Maddie moved her pewter spinning jenny. "Yeah, haven't you learned anything from this game? You'd get us shut down. Georgina doesn't need that kind of paperwork."

"How's your manager job?" asked Brandy. "Is it harder?"

"Mostly it's…different."

Kendall brightened. "I could have your old job."

"Sorry. No vacancy. Maddie took my place."

Kendall sighed.

Seth landed on a silk mill no one had purchased yet and began rustling up money. "The girls go to bed okay?"

"Yeah…Kayla had a hard time, though. She was worried about nightmares."

He looked up in surprise. "She told you that? She, like, spoke?"

"Yeah, we had a whole discourse. Laughed, cried, shared our hopes and fears. I think she has an oratorical career ahead of her."

"What's ‘oratorical' mean?" asked Kendall.

"It refers to speaking in public," Maddie explained. "Giving speeches. Talking in front of others."

"Oh. Uncle Seth doesn't have an oratorical career."

We all laughed. "No," agreed Maddie. "He doesn't. I certainly don't either."

Seth high-fived her. "Introverts unite."

Brandy picked up another Chance card and groaned. "Cholera outbreak! Not again!"

When the night finally ended and Seth's brother and sister-in-law came home, I was happy to learn that Maddie had had a really good time.

"Kids aren't so bad as long as they're brainiac Mortensen offspring. Terry and Andrea were nice too. Good genes in that group."

"Yup," I agreed. Maddie definitely needed more socialization, I decided. She was cheerful and upbeat, her eyes sparkling and excited. This had been a good night.

I dropped her off at Doug's and drove back to my apartment. The parking gods weren't with me tonight, and I ended up about five blocks away. As I walked, I passed a newspaper dispenser for the Seattle Times. I usually read the headlines at the store but hadn't today. I paused in front of it, one article catching my eye.

It was a weird story about a local man who'd turned delusional. He'd had a dream that if he swam across Puget Sound, it would bring wealth and security to his struggling family. Sadly, he hadn't made it very far before drowning in the freezing waters. The ironic part was that although some might consider the feat suicidal, his massive life insurance policy was going to pay out. His family would get their wealth and security after all.

Staring blankly at the paper, I thought about the poor man succumbing and disappearing under the dark waves. I suddenly flashed back to this morning, and it was like I could feel the cold, wet sensation all over again. For half a second, I couldn't breathe. It was as though my lungs were filling with water, suffocating me. I shuddered and absentmindedly ran my hands over my arms, the déjà vu nearly overpowering me. Water. Water everywhere. Cold. Black. Smothering…

I shivered and finally made myself start walking again, needing to find someplace warm.

CHAPTER 12

"I can't believe you keep coming back," Dante told me when I showed up at his shop the next day. To no one's surprise, the place was empty.

"Me either," I admitted. I never felt welcome here, yet I didn't feel I had anywhere else to go. "How do you stay in business?"

"Beats me. I don't suppose you're here to give me the best night of my life? You missed your El Gaucho chance, though."

"I'm here because I had another dream."

"You're using me, succubus." He sighed and sat down at the chintzy table. "Okay. Give it to me."

Settling down across from him, I recapped the latest dream events.

"Not really much in the way of new developments," he pointed out afterward. "You got, like, thirty more seconds of plot."

"Does it mean anything?"

"Hell if I know."

I narrowed my eyes. "You are the worst dream interpreter ever."

"Nah." He rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the table. His expression was typically lazy. "I'm a very good interpreter. There's nothing to interpret in your dream, though, unless it's just your subconscious lamenting your infertility. Which is likely. It also suggests you have bad taste in music. Is ‘Sweet Home Alabama' really playing each time?"