Wanted: Undead or Alive

That Frog Is Staring At Me

I need to tell you something.

I wandered over to Mandrake's couch and flopped down like a dead fish. The words glowed on the screen. What could Nick possibly want to tell me? Maybe he was going to fire me. Confess his undying love. Admit that he's an incubus. Confide that he's working with Sathanas. Insult my personal appearance.

The conversation could go any number of ways.

I tapped out a quick, ok, and sent it.

Exhaustion pulled on me, heavy as an anchor. Being dead really takes it out of you. I tugged Mandrake's ugly orange and yellow afghan over my body and lay my head on the pillowed arm of the couch. Sleep came in an instant and a dream followed fast behind.

I stood in a forest. A warm breeze, fragrant with the rich aromas of damp pine and petrichor, tossed my hair back from my face. To my right, the trees and thick undergrowth stretched on as far as I could see, fading into a green haze in the distance. To my left, a wide, shallow brook tripped over smooth stones. A fat frog watched me from a tree branch fallen halfway into the water. On the other side of the brook, the trees thinned, and the earth sloped upward, turning rocky. Deer grazed peacefully near the edge of the woods.

"I haven't come here in many years."

I spun at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Nick standing there in his black pants and white tee shirt, hands in his pockets, dark hair hanging over his forehead.

And just like that, I knew I wasn't dreaming. It was too real. My ankle hurt because I was standing at a weird angle with the toes of my right foot wedged against a stone. A mosquito whined, too close to my ear. Nick's brow twitched upward.

"You're so damn quick to grasp these things," he said, as if reading my mind.

"I don't exactly grasp it. You may be giving me too much credit."

He shook his head. A smile played on his lips. Standing there with him felt good. It felt like coming home after a long trip. Rather than unpack that thought, I asked, "Where are we? How did I get here?"

His gaze drifted over the trees and upstream. "I grew up here." He pointed. "There, maybe a half-hour walk alongside the water. When I was a boy, I wandered these woods until I knew each tree and rock and creature. I was safe here."

He moved closer to the stream and sank onto the mossy bank, propping his elbows on his knees. "Will you sit with me?"

I made a great effort to lower myself as gracefully as he had. I managed to get my butt on the ground without falling into the water, so let's call it a win.

"I didn't want to talk on the phone or somewhere else where we risked being overheard."

I was safe here, he'd said. "You wanted to talk somewhere safe?"

"Yes." He ran a fingertip over the miniscule yellow petals of a flower that grew an inch or so taller than the moss. "I was able to pull you into a sleep state and then enter your dream."

"So, it is a dream?" I swatted at the mosquito when it lighted on my shoulder, but I missed, and it flew out of sight again.

"Yes." He cocked his head. "And no. If your friend were to enter his apartment right now, he'd see you asleep on the sofa. He could wake you and pull you away from here."

Did I want that to happen? It was a complicated answer.

"It's creepy that you know I'm on Mandrake's couch."

"I only knew after I reached for you. I had to look through your eyes before I pulled you through. Certainly, I needed to know if you were in a safe and suitable place."