Charlie~~

I overslept. In a dream I overslept.

         I get to my office three hours late, only to pause outside the door. If Nora did come, she's surely gone by now. Dad is the one who wants Nora working here. Not me. And it's his fault I overslept.

4 AM yesterday, when he pulled me out of the dream, was the first time he told me about Nora. After that he let me sleep normally as an early reward. I overslept then too. The more time someone spends in this dream, the harder it is to sleep naturally. Even if they did manage to fall asleep, they're plagued by nightmares. I ran through nightmare realms, too exhausted to be able to wake up.

While the rest of Somnia carried on with their lives last night, their jobs and hitting bars with their friends, never once growing tired, I slept.

And it was peaceful.

And I needed it.

And damn it, I overslept.

I swipe my card over the sensor beside the door, wandering what Nora thought when she turned down the alley that leads to the office. Since the messages I deliver are sometimes to Dad's employees and they don't always bear good news—nothing like a letter sealed in wax to be the harbinger of doom—my department isn't anyone's favorite. I hid the office in one of the underpopulated parts of the city at the end of an alley.

The door slides open as someone laughs. Feminine. Free. My office consists of me and Tye. That means it must belong to—

The laughter cuts off, and I round the corner to find Nora and Tye seated at the marble desk he eats his lunches at, their bodies angled toward me.

She's still here. I'm hours late, and she's still here. Seeing her leaves me disappointed. I almost had the perfect excuse to not hire her, and I could have blamed Dad for it.

On the desk is a half-eaten sandwich and a muffin wrapper that's only filled with crumbs.

Following my gaze, Nora says, "Tye brought me a muffin."

Of course, he did. I should have done the same. She has no food, and while not eating won't kill her, the mind knows what an empty stomach feels like.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." I don't know what excuse to give for why I didn't at least phone. Without me preparing the messages, Tye has nothing to do. "Tye, you can go home. I'll deliver the messages today."

He opens his mouth probably to protest.

"I'll pay you for the full day plus half for making you sit around for hours."

Tye's eyes widen, and he promptly shuts his mouth.

"Shall we get to it?" I ask Nora. She says to let her throw out her lunch and then she'll be ready. I nod, and she stands, stepping away from the desk and gathering up the crumbs from the desk in her hands.

For the first time since walking in, I get a good look at what she's wearing. I was not expecting to see her bare legs. The uniform pants go all the way down to the ankle. But she's not wearing pants. She's in a dress that comes down to her knees. It's a dress for business, a kind I've seen my sisters wear.

She should not have that.

If Dad wanted her to have an office job, he must have thought she should look the part.

While I power up my computer, Tye leaves. I don't have the ability to dream up—or conjure—a computer for Nora, but I wish I did. I'll need to create a desk for her once I'm here alone. One that matches the white marble of mine and Tye's.

Outside the office might be worse for wear, but I did my best to give the inside an air of serenity. I wanted to replicate the feeling I had for a few minutes when Dad took me and my siblings to a spa in this city. It was the most peace I've felt around my family in a long time.

Nora comes over to me, staying on the other side of the desk and holding a package. "This is for you."

The label only says my first and last name. No address or who it's from. Inside is a laptop.

"Did you see who dropped this off?"

"It was here when I arrived." She didn't see Dad then.

To be safe I start setting up the laptop, not trusting Dad to not leave a snarky message for me.

"Again, Nora, I'm so sorry for making you wait."

She waves it off. "It's fine. Tye let me in."

"How did you like your house?" I quickly realized last night she didn't want me to see it.

She rubs her hand over one of her long dark blue sleeves. "Someone had been in there and not to just drop off a spare uniform. There was a note." She tells me how her kitchen and closet were stocked. What really gets me is that Dad had a bath drawn for her. If he suspects she's a Class One, why is he showering her with gifts? To make her paranoid?

"Did you do all of that?" she asks.

I blink. For a moment I'm confused what she's asking, but then I realize she thinks I—being on the fake welcoming committee—was the creep who drew her a bubble bath. "No. I was looking into getting you a gift basket."

"Is this common?" Nothing about this is common.

"It's rare—kind of like a lottery." A lottery of life where her genetics might have screwed her over—if being Lucid is even determined by ones parents.

I explain to her that I just need someone to address envelopes and seal them with wax. I don't even need someone else to do it. I don't need an assistant. She could be doing a job that's so much more fulfilling than this.

I don't need to interview her.

I don't need to see if she can do it.

Dad wants her hired. His word is law.

"If you want it and don't mind working seven-day weeks occasionally, the job is yours."

"Why?" She looks at me, her light blue eyes cold while her face is soft, confused. She's pretty in that girl next door sort of way. Her brown hair falls in waves around her shoulders. Her skin's lightly tanned in a way that suggests she's spent a lot of time outdoors. Maybe she used to live by the beach near Hilton Head or Myrtle Beach. I built a model of Harbour Town's white and red lighthouse.

"Charlie?" she says, pulling me from my thoughts. "Why are you just offering me this job?" She should say no. She should stay far away from me. But who knows what Dad would do? She's not safe anywhere, but maybe for now she's safest with me.

"I know you," I say.

She cocks her head.

"Spent time with you," I amend.

She looks wary but nods. "All right then. Thank you."

*****

  I finish writing the three letters fairly fast that Dad sent. Each speaks freely about the dream, which is why I'm the one to transcribe them. Only one letter bodes unwell for the recipient. Dad's requested that one be sealed in a black envelope, addressed in silver ink. He has a flair for the dramatic.

One letter is utterly purposeless, and I swear exists only to disgruntle me. The message sings Stefan's praises and doesn't convey any real meaning or purpose. Dad couldn't have known that I would oversleep and end up being the one to deliver his messages. At least that means he's not trying to force me to spend time with my brother.

Once the letters are sealed and ready to be delivered, I pull out my wallet to pay Nora. Eventually I'll pay her in checks, but right now she doesn't have a penny to her name. Unless Dad has already opened a bank account for her and made her an heiress.

I call Nora over from Tye's desk, handing her the money and telling her she can go home. "The subway shouldn't be busy at this time of day."

A smile tugs at her lips. "Have much experience with that?"

I silently curse. I made a damn fool of myself with the subways yesterday, making myself look like a pretentious idiot who had never deigned to take public transportation.

"I suppose the subway went better for you today without me."

Her smile wins out, and she laughs. "I may have taken the wrong train." Her laughter fades, and her expression turns thoughtful. "Since you still have to deliver those letters, would it be possible for me to come with you? I'm curious about Tye's job, and, you know, the rest of the city."

My first instinct is to say no. But what would be the harm? Whatever Dad's plan is, Stefan isn't going to jeopardize it. I'm supposed to keep an eye on her, and I'd rather do that in a way that isn't considered stalking. And if I'm with her then maybe Dad won't feel the need to pull any more bathtub capers.

*****

Twenty minutes later, I'm stepping out of a cab, Nora at my side, in front of Stefan's apartment building. I sent him a message on the ride over. He said he'd make sure he'd be here despite my assurances that he absolutely did notneed to be here.

He lives in the most expensive apartment building in town. People who live here either got rich and upgraded or they're favored by Dad. Stefan doesn't even live in the dream, but all of the quadruplets have an apartment in this building. For whenever they feel like it.

We enter the lobby that shines with its silver-accent pieces and marble surfaces. We board an empty elevator, and I hit the button for the top floor. The apartment is wasted on him. A camera is perched in the top corner of the elevator, and I wonder if it's one of Dad's cameras and if he's watching us right now. If it is, he wouldn't even need to be in the dream to watch us.

"Where do you live?" She doesn't look at me, instead watching the screen above the door tick off floor numbers.

"In a house outside of the metro area. It's on the north end of Somnia." I know I shouldn't give Stefan so much grief about his apartment, not when Dad gave me the biggest house in Somnia. A mansion really. But I live here full time, and I've always felt he gave it to me out of guilt. And he uses it for his dinner parties anyway. He has one next week with US government officials. A fancy dinner inside of the dream costs him nothing and doesn't actually feed anyone, but apparently, they like the novelty of it. Novelty wouldn't be enough to tempt me into the dream.

"What's it like?"

"There's more space than I know what to do with. I have a pool but don't get much chance to use it."

Her brows furrow. "It's like a big bathtub, but you swim in it?"

"Yeah."

The elevator doors open.

"How do I know what it is if I've never seen one before?"

I feel the blood leave my face, and I usher her out of the elevator in the case Dad is watching. Is listening. I should have scanned to see if the elevator was bugged. "It's just something everyone knows."

"But how?"

I grab hold of her arm, pulling her to the side. Reaching out with my mind, I locate listening and recording devices and destroy them with a thought. Sparks zap around us drawing Nora's attention.

"What was—"

"Nora." I put enough emphasis into her name to grab hold of her gaze. "These questions are going to get you in trouble." I shouldn't be saying this. I should be on Dad's side, the person who holds my life in his hands.

I just . . . I can't see her dead after her heart gives out from being locked in one of Dad's nightmares. I'd be here, continuing on with my life, while she's forced to run tests that will either kill her when her heart fails or will slowly eat away at her mind.

If she's only a Class Five, she could be safe, but something in my gut says she's going to be like me.

A kindred soul. But a cursed one too.

"Am I never supposed to ask questions?"

"You can ask questions."

"How am I to know what I can and can't ask?"

"Stay away from anything particularly smart. People who survive are clever. They don't ask questions that seem smart. Clever questions are often the ones that are disguised as pointless."

Her face tightens, indigitation sparkling behind her eyes. "You know something's not right."

I don't answer.

"But you're not going to ever agree out loud, are you?"

"People who are clever hardly ever answer with the truth."

"So, I shouldn't trust you."

I give her my best attempt at a lazy grin. "I never said I was clever, but I'm flattered you think so."

She ducks her head, her chin pointed to where my hand still holds her arm. I release her, stepping back, and hold up the letters.

Her face says she's not ready to let our conversation go. But I'm her boss, and we've both already been pushing that relationship out of the bounds of what is formal.

Stefan wears an expression of delight when he opens his door and sees Nora.

"Stefan Pace?" I ask as if he weren't already acquainted.

"Yes?" He can't keep the mirth out of his eyes.

After addressing the envelopes, Nora knows Stefan and I share the same last name. She didn't mention the similarity. Could it be that she already knew there were questions that shouldn't be asked? That she's more clever than I gave her credit for?

I hold out one of the two cream envelopes. Nora's script isn't elegant, and I can't help but love how it detracts from Dad's letters. "A letter for you."

He takes it.

"Have a good evening," I say and start to turn away.

"Are you really going to act like you don't know me?"

Almost every awful word I've ever heard flits across my mind like ticker tape. I have no idea what to do.

"Come inside, Charlie. I'd love to meet your friend."

What do you think is going to happen next?