Jayden often knew he was dreaming, but this time he lost all sense of himself. It had to be the book. Before he had the book, none of this weird shit ever happened. He marched toward Frank’s Secondhand Bookshop, a quaint place full of stacks, where he happened to work, with every intention of giving back the book. Just putting it on a shelf and forgetting it ever existed. But before he could get there, the pavement stuck to his boots—nice, sturdy combat boots in black with studs—and Jayden found himself sinking as if he’d walked into quicksand.

Forgetting the book for the moment, he yanked himself out of the pit of pavement-sand and inspected his boots, which looked perfectly fine as if nothing ever happened. Jayden chalked it up to being more weird book bullshit and kept on going into the bookshop. When he grabbed the handle to go into the shop, it melted hotly over his grip. He pulled his hand back, letting go, and with a furrowed brow looked down at his palm.

The melty door handle sloped down his wrist, where he had a spikey black leather wristband that he really didn’t want to get ruined. He shook his hand to whip the door remnants off then kicked open the door. Determined to place the book back on the back shelf where he’d first discovered it, he entered the bookshop with a fiery disposition. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with customers or coworkers, so he adopted his trademark threatening scowl and traversed the shop as if on a mission. Which he was. Angie could deal with the book. It was almost her turn anyway, and the shelf was in the back of the shop away from customers, so the only thing to worry about would be Frank or another employee touching it.

With every step, it became more difficult to keep up his strides, and finally, instead of continuing to look forward, Jayden looked down. The floor was suctioning to his boot-soles like sticky gum. It attached itself and wouldn’t let go no matter how forcefully Jayden pulled his foot upward. He felt the strain at the top of his feet where the leather stretched, and cursed out loud. Giving one final kick, he wrenched his foot out of the floor tile and jogged the next couple steps to avoid falling over.

“Jayden,” said Angie, who was at the register and looking positively pissed. She was a brunette and wore blue leggings with hearts printed all over them under her brown dress. The ensemble would look odd on anyone else, but she pulled it off. “Don’t tell me you’re putting that back.”

“Can it, Angie. It’s almost your turn.”

“Almost isn’t actually.”

They were lucky there weren’t any customers around, because the way they glared at each other could wither anyone.

“Gimme a break,” said Jayden, relenting first. “I can’t take it anymore. Really.”

Angie’s shoulders sagged. All the argumentative fire drained out of her at once.

“Sorry,” said Jayden.

“Fine.” Angie gestured to the back, where the shelf would be. “You owe me lunch or something for this.”

“Thank you.” Jayden continued his march through the shop and placed the book back on the shelf with a sigh of relief. “No funny business,” he told the book. “I mean it.”

The book sat there, looking agonizingly normal.

Jayden turned around, took one step, and found himself sinking again. This time he called out, and the strangest thing happened: he actually got help.

She arrived in a flash, all long limbs and grace, and grabbed Jayden by the wrist before the floor could swallow him up.

“What the fuck!” Jayden grabbed hold of her arm. “I put it back! I’m not touching it!”

The woman who’d arrived doubled her efforts and yanked him out of the sinking pit. They scrambled—or more accurately, Jayden scrambled while the woman elegantly sidestepped—and avoided being sucked under.

“Touching what?” asked the woman.

“The—hold up, who are you? Not that I’m not thankful.”

“I am Akki, Slayer of Nightmares.”

Jayden snapped his right fingers and pointed at her in recognition. “Then I don’t even mind not knowing how you got here, unless you came out of the book.”

“A book?”

“The book. I’m not touching it, so how is this happening?” He widened his arms at the floor where the sinking pit still remained.

“Are you aware you’re dreaming?”

“What? I’m not dreaming. This has to be more of that book’s bullshit.”

Akki straightened. She spun around, seeming to try and get her bearings.

“You don’t know about the book, do you?”

“No.”

“Well don’t touch it, whatever you do. See that one on the shelf?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the one to avoid.”

“Many thanks.”

“For what?”

“The warning.”

“Oh uh, no problem. Anyway, dreams? I’m dreaming?”

“Most likely.” Akki closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then stood silent and still for a while. “Yes. You are.”

“So this isn’t book shit after all.”

“It would seem not.” Akki tilted her head, and Jayden got a nice horrendous view of something very wrong there. He swallowed his comment. She’d helped him, after all. And if this wasn’t the book’s fault, then it was probably in her jurisdiction. Slayer of Nightmares, huh? That must be an interesting gig. He noticed she carried a sword. “What is it about this book that bothers you?”

“It’s haunted.” No use mincing words. The kind of haunting was still yet to be discovered. He and Angie had had a time of it trying to figure out what was really going on for a while, and the best they could come up with after weeks of research was a curse or a haunting. “Or cursed. We don’t know what. We just know it’s bad. Makes you live out your worst fears, or it used to, at the start.”

“Ah.” Akki seemed about to elaborate, then shut her mouth. She grabbed Jayden by the arm and pulled him toward her, and when Jayden looked back, he saw the floor turning quicksand again. “It would seem this book of yours isn’t your true nightmare.”

“That’s surprising. And it’s not my book. Trust me, it’s not anyone’s.”

“The sinking, that’s what vexes you.”

“I like keeping my feet.” Jayden backed up, nearly into Akki, and kept backing up until she backed up too. His gaze was on the book. Some part of him still thought it was all that thing’s fault, because everything weird that happened seemed fitting to blame on it.

Akki cleared her throat.

“So if you slay nightmares,” said Jayden. “Any chance you could do something about the haunted book too?”

“It isn’t haunted.”

“The fuck you know that?”

“I, as all vitalians do, have the Sight. If it were haunted, I would be able to see the spirit attached to it.”

Distracted by the book talk, Jayden didn’t notice the floor suctioning to his boots again until it was too late to step out of it. He cursed under his breath and pulled his foot up almost to a full tuck position, and the floor stretched around it like gum, tugging him back down. “Maybe I should go shoeless.”

Akki told him to raise his foot again, and when he did, she made quick work of slashing the stretchy bits of floor away. Jayden fell back but caught himself with the kind of fast footing only an athlete has.

“Thanks.”

“This book,” said Akki. “It’s from the waking world?”

“If you mean when I’m awake, yeah. People kept returning it to the shop. I work here.”

“A disturbing item you can’t get rid of?”

“Basically, but add the horror movie factor times eleven. I’ve seen some weird shit from that thing. Old… memories. Well, flashbacks. Except they weren’t mine.”

“Then whose were they?”

“My best friend’s. He’s dead.”

Akki’s attention seemed divided between the floor and the book. Maybe she was trying to figure out if the phenomena were related. As far as Jayden was concerned, they had to be. It occurred to him he was blaming everything on the book these days, but that came with the territory, whatever the book’s true territory was. The thing was evil.

The span of sinking floor widened, forcing Jayden and Akki back. They nearly ran into a shelf full of normal books in the history section, and Jayden tried to copy Akki’s sidestep to avoid a display of discount novels. He fumbled it and wound up with one foot in the tile that had turned quicksand. Cursing, feeling himself freaking out with a hot flash of adrenaline, he reached out toward Akki, and she yanked him by the arm. This time, the effort was fruitless, the floor sucking Jayden down harsher than before, as if a clamp had latched around his ankle. He cursed again, louder.

Normally, if he were awake and this was really happening, Angie would’ve come running by now. Unless she too had gotten into some deep trouble. Jayden glanced at the register. Except there was no register anymore, and Angie was nowhere to be found.

Akki grabbed his other arm.

“It’s got me,” Jayden said. “Got me pretty good. I don’t think it’s gonna let go this time. You should save yourself.”

“Unacceptable,” said Akki, and pulled harder, hard enough to pop Jayden’s joints.

But it was no use. Akki’s grip slipped and she went careening backward into the discount book display. Novels got knocked to the floor and swallowed by the quicksand, and Jayden sunk up to his waist. Pretty soon he’d have to take a deep breath to make sure he had air if he got sucked completely under.

“What is it,” asked Akki after righting herself. “What is it that’s out of control in the waking world? The book?”

“The book and everything else in my life.” Jayden stopped struggling against the quicksand, too afraid to agitate whatever it was that was pulling him under. “Lately nothing goes my way, but I don’t see how that and this are related.”

“In the dreamscape, everything from the waking world tends to be related.”

“So you’re saying if I figure out the reason for this nightmare, it goes away?”

“More or less.”

“Then I call bullshit on your methods. I’m still sinking.” Jayden’s breath came panicked and fast. “Shit, I’m still sinking. Couldn’t someone just wake me up? In the real world, I mean.”

“Mastery of the dreamscape would mean you could wake yourself, but it takes practice.” Akki reached out for him again. “And time we seem not to have.”

Jayden grabbed her arms, thankful for the help even though he thought it was probably useless, given the track record. “But theoretically I could wake myself.”

“Yes.”

“Then teach me how. I’m a quick study, especially in a jam.”

Akki yanked on his arms. Once again, no use. Her voice lowered. “You must let go of the images of the dreamscape and picture a void, an expanse of nothingness, and a tether.”

“A tether?”

“A silver cord extending from you toward the abyss.”

“Okay, I think I got it.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Hell no.” Jayden sank a little further. “Fuck it. Fine.” He closed his eyes.

“Now follow the tether to a source of light. It should be at the end of a long dark.”

“Okay, okay, got it.” Jayden mimed pulling a rope. The floor stopped rising around him. Akki stepped back to give him room and watched as he tugged himself higher out of the quicksand. An invisible force assisted him, which Akki knew to be his own tether. “Just keep walking, then?”

“At some point you should see your own body, asleep. Settle back into it and will yourself to rise.”

“Just lie down inside myself, huh?”

“Precisely.”

Jayden licked his lips and swallowed. He heaved himself up and out of the quicksand and then kept walking, picturing the abyss and the tether as Akki instructed. At some point, he realized he was no longer panicked. Amazing what some direction can do. He found his body in his room, slouched not on his bed but on the floor with his back to the bed, and the book was in his left hand. Settling back into himself, he felt silly and wondered fleetingly if this would even work, but he tried anyway. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

The perspective switched in a nauseating manner, and he jolted awake, scrambling away from the bed and the book, gasping. His heart was pounding and he was sweating up a storm, but he was awake. And alive, and not sinking.

“I did it! Holy shit, I did it! Akki, I—”

But she was gone.

Jayden ran his hand down his face and stared at the book. It sat innocently on his bedroom floor, as if in mockery of all that had happened. “She seems like someone we could use right about now. I’ll have to find a way to thank her too.”

His cell rang, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Calming down with one deep breath, he dug the phone out of a pile of dirty, punk laundry.

“Where are you?” asked Angie, her voice resolute. “It’s my turn.”