The Children of Hypnos

Chapter 9: Hugs and Punches

Emery floated. She dreamed, but slipped through the dreams without holding them, skimming her fingers over the clouds as she sailed past. She thought vaguely about those dark purple dream-clouds, but these were made of white cotton candy and soap bubbles, oil slick rainbows and sugar sculptures. They were floating on the ocean and the rocking made her sleepy.

Fabian Fenhallow leaped from the water, leading a troupe of dolphins. He was naked. He waved at Emery as he passed by, and Emery waved back, confused.

"Em. Wake up, Em."

Darkness bled into the dream. The bubbles popped. The sculptures shattered. The dream fell around her in rips and tears and gave way to the muted colors of the Fenhallow Academy Clinic.

Her mouth was a desert. She tried to raise her head off the pillow, but there no longer seemed to be any muscles in her neck. Grandpa Al sat in a cushy chair beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other, a saucer and teacup balanced on his knee. Steam wafted from the cup.

"I'm in one piece, right?" Her voice came out scratchy.

Grandpa Al smiled. "Yes, all in one piece."

Behind him, the windows down the long room were dark, and all but one of the other beds were empty, their curtains open. A lamp was on at the nurse's desk on the far end of the room. Another was on at Emery's bedside.  She twitched her fingers to urge some feeling back into them.

"How did I get here? What happened?"

"Well, judging by the state we found you in, it seems you and Mr. Jager had a run-in with the Sandman. The two of you were left outside our front gates, unconscious. As to what actually happened, I was hoping you could answer that."

Drawing all her strength, Emery pushed herself up on noodle arms. "Oh, wow."

Grandpa Al raised an eyebrow. "Feeling refreshed?"

"He said—before he threw the sand in my face, he said it'd be the best sleep I'd ever had."

"We're lucky he was feeling benevolent. There are much worse types of sleeping sand he could've used. You were due for your monthly sleep soon, anyway. You certainly won't need it after this."

"One night of sleep and I feel like a million bucks."

Grandpa Al coughed lightly.

"What?"

"Two nights," he said, sipping tea, "and two days."

Emery balked. "I've been asleep for two days?"

"And two nights."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

"Once we ascertained that the sleeping sand he used was the beneficial sort, there was no reason. It would've done more harm than good, and you both needed the rest."

"We both?"

Grandpa Al nodded toward the only other occupied bed in the room. The curtain was half-drawn, but she could see legs and feet tenting the sheets.

"Wesley has been under as long as you have. I can't say I'm happy that the two of you were drugged and transported halfway across the city by a fugitive, but I am thankful nothing worse happened."

"Is Wes okay? He ran into a wall."

"He's fine. Where were you? Tell me what happened."

Emery told him. She skipped over the fight with Wes and explained the chase over the rooftops and through the alley. The closer she got to the point where she fell asleep, the blurrier her memories became. She could no longer remember what the Sandman's face looked like, though she knew she'd gotten a good look at him. She couldn't remember what color his hair was, or whether his goggles had been round or square. She was surprised she even remembered that he'd had goggles.