101 - A Perfect Sky; A Storm

5

I know I just surrendered to the heavy embrace of sleep—but I can see now, with perfect clarity, the unmistakable London skyline before me.

Well, as clear as the smog-filled city will allow me to see.

I stand atop a seven-story parking garage. The sky above feels endless, the city a vast sea. The sun hovers on the brink of the horizon, painting the sky in shades of violet and orange as it settles into bed. A breathtaking view—literally, as my body feels as though it is floating.

A flicker of movement catches my attention. My eyes track the shadow, careful not to give away that I've noticed it. I wait, letting my senses tell me who it is.

The smell of cigarettes, mostly masked by an amber fragrance, hits me before Faith appears at my side, her skin brushing my arm, and the world settles a little.

"What're we doing up here?" How did we even get here? I lean into Faith's warmth, noting her usual earth-toned tank top and jeans. She doesn't answer, lost in her scan of the sprawling city, and I amuse myself by searching for our headquarters amidst the labyrinth of buildings, but she spots her mark first.

The sun sets the next instant. There is no twilight. The sky goes from lavender to black in the blink of an eye, and the city vanishes into the shadows, with only lighted windows to dot the blackness like stars.

But there are no actual stars out tonight.

Everything lacks a certain sense that confirms I'm in the Slayer Dreamscape: a psychic web linking all slayers' subconsciouses. It began as premonitions of impending apocalypses—then it evolved into a subconscious realm where slayers can meet.

"Faith, what—"

A sudden ringing fills my ears. A burst of light pierces the darkness, forming a focused beam that illuminates London. Echoes of screams carried by the wind reach our ears, and I start toward the source. The air grows tighter, almost static.

Faith stops me before I complete a full step. I don't see her mark; I don't even sense it at first. But soon, my insides stir, alerting me to the danger.

Tracking her line of sight, I finally discover a lone vehicle on the road below: a van; its rusted navy-blue paint washed out by the beam, but unmistakable. It careens recklessly, heading straight toward us and eventually disappearing into the garage entrance below.

In another blink of an eye, the van is skirting up the ramp across the platform, accelerating rapidly, headlights pinned on us.

Faith only crosses her arms over her chest as she watches the van near, her face a calm mask. She jerks her chin at the woman in the passenger's seat: blond. Bright, blue eyes. Elegantly sharp features sculpted into a face of stone.

"Is that her?"

I nod, eyes fixed on the van—on the one driving.

"And is that the brother?" Faith only shifts her weight to her other leg, a thought wrinkling her expression as Jay's face becomes more distinct.

They're closing in quickly—yet somehow slowly; it feels like we have all the time in the world to chat. Adrenaline floods through me, my body instinctively bracing for impact.

I answer with another nod, that same thought dawning on me: it doesn't matter if the Slayer has a brother; he shouldn't be here.

But he is, which makes him significant. To the beam destroying London, to Oz.

If it was Oz.

Those four words had floated around in my head until sleep claimed me.

I should have followed, should have learned more before coming to Faith nearly empty-handed—