The War for the Waking World Read Free

to create from imagination. But he needn’t have bothered.
    Kaylie stood her ground, pajamas and all, held up her hand, and the ball of lightning became a long staff made of pink driftwood. She took the staff in both hands, stared up at the hovering creature, and yelled, “You . . . shall not . . . pass!”
    She slammed the staff to the floor, creating a rippling wave of white flame that rolled along the kitchen floor, and then rose in the shape of a hand of white fire. It snatched the wolf creature from the air and slammed the beast to the floor. The thing arose unsteadily, all three heads wobbling loosely, but the burning coal eyes all still gleamed. Gnashing its teeth and snarling, it leaped.
    Mrs. Pitsitakas darted protectively in front of her daughter as did Mr. Keaton with Buster. Kaylie had it covered, though. She swung her pink staff and sent a white wave of power crashing into the creature. With the sound of a thousand shattering glasses and a faint howl, the creature burst into a swarm of darting sparks, and then vanished. There was nothing left behind but a cascade of falling ash.
    â€œNo giant newspaper this time?” Archer asked, snatching Kaylie off her feet. “Had to go stealing Gandalf ’s line?”
    â€œIt just felt right,” Kaylie said, snuggling close. Archer reluctantly put her down and turned to his frantic family and friends.
    Buster joined their embrace and gave his surfer-lingo stamp of approval by saying, “Sis, you just dropped the hammer on that thing. Gnarly!”
    â€œW-what was that?” Amy’s mother cried out, her mouth half-twisted as if she might scream. “That . . . thing, it’s not possible. And K-Kaylie . . . what did you . . . how did you do that?”
    Amy didn’t give Archer the chance to answer. Her owlish green eyes wide with fear and fury, she grabbed him by his coat and demanded, “You know, don’t you? You know what’s happening?”
    Archer mumbled, “I—”
    â€œAll this time!” she interrupted. “You were doing that Dream stuff, the top-secret stuff, right?”
    â€œDream stuff?” Amy’s mom blurted. “What dream stuff?”
    â€œI . . . it . . .”
    â€œWhy couldn’t you stop it, Archer?” Amy asked, her voice sad and plaintive. “Why couldn’t you?”
    The question felt like a sledgehammer to the gut. Archer had asked the same question of himself over and over again in the hours since the Rift occurred. There were answers, but all in a tangled web: the Nightmare Lord, the Lurker, Bezeal, Rigby—they’d each played a role. Even the Wind Maiden, Archer’s best friend Kara . . . well . . . former best friend. In the end, she had turned out to be at the center of it. In all their many schemes and plots, they’d managed to rip and tear and gouge the Dream fabric until the Dreamtreaders finally couldn’t mend it fast enough.
    Archer’s father spoke, his voice quiet but braced with iron, “Son, if you know what’s happening, I think you’d better tell us.”
    Archer faced his father, the others, endured their accusing and frightened eyes, and said, “You won’t believe me.”
    â€œWe just saw a three-headed, flying wolf-thing!” Mrs. Pitsitakas practically spat. “Try us!”
    Archer’s father grasped his son’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “A week ago,” he said, “none of us would have believed any of this crazy stuff. Those shadowy things that took me, the sky splitting open, all that happened at the hospital, and then . . . this.” He gestured at the pile of ash, the remnants of the creature. “But now, we’ve seen too much to doubt. Just tell us what you know.”

THREE
    N O S AFE P LACE
    A RCHER TOOK A DEEP BREATH, LOCKED EYES FOR A FEW moments with Kaylie, and thought of Master Gabriel, the leader and trainer of all Dreamtreaders. Before