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

sure if being a few steps closer was going to make a bit of difference by the time he finally did get there, but he couldn't seem to stop now. The movement kept at least some part of his mind and body distracted.

That damned map, the one he'd wanted to stare at for hours on end instead of concentrating on what really mattered. Every landmark the trolley passed—distant Ministry building, street, or house—lit up in Karl's mind. He remembered wishing he and George could mark the houses in some way so they could see exactly where this thing had come from and where it was going, this wave of people losing their minds.

If they had done that simple thing, even with the finest thread they could have easily removed, Karl might have noticed his sister sitting right in its path.

He knew the comforting words and gestures for people feeling guilty. Hardly anyone ever came out to visit people who were sent to the Columns, but Karl had run into them a few times out here in the world. He knew how to say it wasn't their fault, nothing they could have done, nothing at all caused this to happen, all the clichés that floated naturally out of his mouth. He also understood why people were never comforted by them, and why most never spoke of their loved one again.

The trolley slowed to a stop where he usually got off when he was visiting his parents on his monthly guilt-induced trip, the scent of lilacs drifting through the open windows, but Karl stayed put. He didn't want to risk anyone seeing him since they'd all be getting home right about now.

He'd only stopped by his apartment long enough to change clothes, not wanting to wear his stained and stinking uniform out in public. He thought he might have to burn that one to ever have a chance of getting the reek of the ’sters out of the fabric.

He'd barely leaned into his supervisor's office, mumbling something about an emergency with his pregnant sister and needing a few days off. Ms. Curtis hadn't been happy, but she hadn't questioned him the way Mr. Willer would have. Karl had until the end of the week to try to figure all of this out.

Karl had one foot dangling just above the street before the next stop, hearing his mother warning him to never do any such thing when he'd first been allowed to ride alone at age nine. For the first time in nearly twenty years, he ignored her voice in his mind. He was several paces down the sidewalk before the trolley clanged to a halt, his eyes on his sister's house a block away.

He'd heard their mother call it a cozy place to start out, but never in Rethia's earshot. What Klia Gilmore meant was the house was far too small to live in for more than a year or two at most. Two full stories with some of the most elaborate woodwork in the neighborhood seemed like a mansion to Karl.

He walked slowly up onto the porch, torn between needing to know if she was okay and not wanting to disturb her. Her first two pregnancies had been rough at this stage, leading her to sleep a lot more than usual. Karl was too afraid to walk away. He knocked on the door, newly painted a deep orange. Before he could knock again, his youngest sister, Janie, jerked it open.

"Karl! What are you doing here?"

She stood with her hands on her hips in a comically accurate imitation of their mother, lips pursed, head tilted to one side, blue eyes narrowed. She even wore a perfectly fitted lace apron exactly like Klia Gilmore's. Unlike their mother would have, however, she made no move to let him in.

"Hi, Janie. I got to leave work a little early today. Thought I'd come check on my soon-to-be niece or nephew. What are you doing here?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed with every ounce of exhaustion a spoiled twelve-year-old could manage.

"Someone has to watch the kids while Rethia takes a nap. Again."

"Well, good," Karl said. "I'm glad you're here for her. I need to sneak up and see her, okay? I promise, I won't make too much noise. Are the kids asleep, too?"

Karl squeezed past and glanced up the stairs. Janie didn't quite step in front of him, but he was certain she wanted to.

"Yes, of course," she said. "They're in the living room, so you be quiet. I don't think you should go up there, Karl. She needs to get her rest."

"I know, little Sister," he said. "You're great to help out so she can. I just need to talk to her for few minutes. Grown-up stuff."

Janie shook her head, pursing her lips again before she crossed her arms.

"Fine, whatever you want to do. Don't blame me if she gets mad at you."

Karl was halfway up the stairs before he answered over his shoulder.

"Not a chance."

The stairway had a flowered carpet a lot like the big one in the Gilmore house going down the middle and anchored with brass bars. The whole family had pitched in to get it as a housewarming gift when she and Gerald moved in here. As far as Karl was concerned, the best part was it was kept his shoes from making any noise.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake up his niece and nephew and bring the wrath of Janie down on his head. He was a little worried about her mentioning his visit to their parents, but she was easier to deal with than his prickly brother-in-law.

"Rethia? Ree?" Karl hoped he wouldn't have to knock again.

"Who's there? Gerry?"

"No, it's Karl. Can I come in for a minute?"

He waited, trying not to drum his fingers against the wall. He heard slow footsteps right before she opened the door.

"Hey Karl," she said, beaming. "What brings you out here in the middle of the month?"

She