The Dream Thief, Kari Kilgore [reading well TXT] 📗

color, the exact same hazel he and so many in his family had. Before he could say a word or look away, the green grew deeper and more vivid. The same way everyone's but Karl's did when they were Building.

The baby's skin darkened, turning red as if he were upset. Karl stepped away from the bars, not wanting him to start crying. This had to be some kind of monster or it wouldn't be locked up in here. The red deepened further, now looking like the bricks lining the tunnels under their feet. The baby didn't cry or move, just kept staring at Karl with those glowing green eyes.

Patches of skin turned ashy, then started to pucker and wrinkle. When those spots started to burst open, Karl realized what he was seeing. The baby was burning, all over its body, as if it were being roasted over an open fire.

He opened his mouth, but only a clicking noise came out. If the baby was indeed in a Builder's trance, and it certainly looked like it was, it was Building itself into an inferno.

When the remaining flesh started to turn black, George grabbed Karl's shoulders and pulled him back. Karl stared into the baby's eyes until his friend closed and locked the door between them.

"Karl? Are you okay? Karl?"

George shook his shoulders now, but Karl could only stare straight ahead. Burning itself; it was burning itself alive. A sharp noise drove through his head what seemed like several seconds before he felt the pain in his cheek. George had slapped him, gas mask and all.

"I'm sorry," George said. "We have to get out of here. Someone will be in to check on it before long. We can't be here. You can't be here."

"Its eyes, Georgie. Its eyes."

"I know. That's why you had to see. Come on."

Karl didn't notice his surroundings until they were back outside, his body moving because his legs decided to. He managed to hold himself together until they passed through that giant gate, the gate Karl had never known how thankful he was for until now.

He fell onto the first bench he saw, shaking too hard to keep walking. George sat beside him, watching him closely.

"What happens to it?" Karl said. "When it closes its eyes?"

"Just what you're thinking, I'm sure. Its skin grows back when it sleeps. As long as it sleeps, it's just fine. As soon as it opens its eyes, that happens again."

Karl rubbed his eyes hard, trying to force the burning flesh out of his memory.

"Kill it," he said. "They just need to kill it. No one needs to see something like that. Nothing needs to live like that."

"They can't," George said. "You know that. The ’sters are linked to whoever birthed them. If they kill it, the person dies."

Karl stared at George, sure he understood what the other man was saying and more sure he didn't want to.

"Do you mean... Did that thing come from someone in my family? Is that what you think happened?"

George looked back at the stone building, one of the few that wasn't brick in the whole place. He rubbed his upper arms.

"I'm not a doctor," he said. "Or even a nurse. But I've been around you and your family my whole life, Karl. I've seen them focus too hard on something. I don't have to be a Builder any more than you are to know what I saw."

"But what can we do?" Karl said. "We can't kill it, I get that, but what am I supposed to do?"

"I think you might need to check on your family," George said. "See if anything strange is going on. We both think the ’sters and the patients getting so riled up could be linked to that pattern you saw. Maybe it hit too close to your house after all. Maybe the pattern changed. That thing just came in this morning, born last night. Maybe one of them will remember something."

Karl got to his feet, swaying a second before he caught his balance.

"No, George, the pattern didn't change. I'm such a bloody idiot."

He walked toward his building as fast as his rubbery muscles would carry him.

"Hang on!" George shouted. "Where are you going?"

"I missed it," Karl said without slowing down. "Right there in front of my own damned eyes, and I missed it. It's my sister, George. Rethia. She doesn't live at home anymore. She lives right in the path of whatever the hell this is. And she's pregnant, due any time now, stuck at home because Building isn't good for the baby this late. How could I have missed it? I've got to get home, right now."

Chapter 11

Loretta turned over without opening her eyes. There was no need to. She had all the information she required. Rhysto was gone, no doubt to make sure she knew he could come and go as he pleased.

He hadn't taken anything of real value with him, except her will to resist him. Now she just had to figure out how to deal with his return to her life.

She stretched carefully, checking herself over for bruises, sore muscles, raw places. She'd definitely felt worse after time spent in his bed. At least an hour after she'd gotten home, maybe longer, she'd asked him to leave no marks. He was far gone enough in the twisted passion they made together that he might not have heard. She'd have to make sure before anyone else saw her.

When she finally sat up enough to start the lamp beside the bed, Loretta groaned. The whirring table clock said half past noon. She'd slept far later than she usually did, no surprise after the late-night activities. Good thing she had no deliveries planned for today.

Ignoring the protests of her stomach and back muscles, Loretta picked up her discarded clothing. Her knife was still hidden in the disabled corset.

That knife, that damned black knife. Even if she did still crave his attentions, she was determined not to be surprised like