The Children of Hypnos

Chapter 1: Dreamhunter

Emery's favorite nightmares were the ones that didn't know they were nightmares. They shuffled along on ungainly limbs like puppies learning to walk, urged forward by a treat, oblivious to the waking world around them. As they became more corporeal, they bumped into lamp posts and mailboxes, stumbled over their own feet, even sometimes made little hiccupping noises of surprise. Some barfed blood or sang horrible banshee songs or accidentally queued up in line at the ATM.

Cute. They were kind of cute.

Of course, even puppies had to grow up. The closer a nightmare got to its dreamer, the stronger and more capable it became, and that was the point where the cuteness stopped. A nightmare took everything from its dreamer—rationality, hope, happiness—then returned to the Dream until the next night. Over and over it would come back, until the overwhelming terror turned the dreamer into a husk.

Emery jogged past her current target, a nightmare that took the form of a fly fisherman in a bucket hat. It'd been squelching its way down Mercer Street for the last five minutes, gaining speed on the decline and leaving a trail of water in its wake. Where human eyes should have been were two black pits. It paid no attention to her, but it would soon.

She checked the nightmare termination request pulled up on her cuff screen. It had been submitted two days previously from the Hypnos Information Center on the south side of the city, a few blocks away. The identifying description said only Fisherman, no eyes. As far as descriptions went, it was actually pretty good; many people were too scared to remember or describe their nightmares accurately, even when they faced them in the flesh. Even to someone who had seen their nightmare every night for weeks or months, the description could be as vague as woman or big eyes or loud.

The fisherman turned for a tall white house with a thick green lawn and a white fence. The windows were dark except for a motion-sensor porch light that came on when Emery pushed through the fence gate and hopped up the front porch.

She rang the doorbell. The cute little butterfly mailbox by the door read The Millers in curly green lettering. It was a quaint little place, she supposed, but there was too much space and not enough people. Big yard, big windows, all the light and noise of the city far enough away to be ignored. No wonder so many requests came from the suburbs—there was nothing to do out here except think about what horrible thing might come after you in the night.

The nightmare bumped into the front gate and groaned.

Emery rang again, then knocked. Loud.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Someone had to be home. The nightmare wouldn't come for the house if the dreamer wasn't home. "I need a confirmation of nightmare ownership, please."

Something crashed inside the house. A light flicked on inside the front window, and a white face appeared beside the door before it swung open. A man peered out.

"Hi." Emery jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Is this yours?"

The nightmare was now trying to figure out the latch on the front gate. It had become too corporeal to move through solid objects. Still not smart or strong, though—that was good. She could handle dumb and weak plenty well without her partner.

The man threw the door open. He wore a baggy shirt and pajama bottoms, his face clean-shaven but haggard from lack of sleep. "Are you from Hypnos?"

Emery already had her ID in one hand: a silver badge, a single longsword thrust upward behind the closed eye of the Hypnos State. "My name is Emery Ashworth. I'm a dreamhunter of the North American Ward, and I'm here to investigate reports of nightmare harassment for..." She checked her cuff. "Cora Miller."