The Sandman Read Online Free Page B

senator—she’d put a shaky hand to her own chest—and the soldier behind him spoke into his throat mic. “We have two down. Need immediate medical evac.”
    “ You brought the Oneiros with you,” he told the senator. “Do you believe me now?”
    The senator ignored him but asked the room, “What was she saying before he shot her?”
    Before she was silenced , Gary thought.
    “The black market has fallen,” repeated one of the soldiers. “Then something about nightmares.”
     
    ***
     
    Jordan had to hand it to the Rêve’s organizers: the Revelations concert was living up to the hype, and the marketing for it was genius. No wonder the cost of the tickets was outrageous. She was inside the music video for the first song off their Dark Waters album, “Prophet with a Bell.” She stood in the same stark forest of bare trees featured in the online graphics of their website and the GIFs pasted into the signature lines of many of the people on their message boards. The air was clear and bright, and it vibrated with the prelude to the song, an exultant rising cry of an electric guitar. A bell rang in the distance, and damn if she didn’t want to discover where it led.
    Rook had shown her how to piggyback on someone else’s Rêve hookup. The person who had dropped $620 to buy this particular ticket looked like a teenage girl in a homemade version of the dress the model wore in the video, a blue, silky wrap that for all its lack of embellishment, billowed behind her like a flag.
    Jordan used the trees to follow at a discreet distance. Don’t mind me.
    Light gleamed through the trees that way . Not only were there no nightmares but there was also a sense of safety in the air that she hadn’t felt since before her mom had died. It was a relief to be inside the Agora, where a Chimera marshal was easily accessible through one of the Agora columns. All she had to do was try to see one, and yep, a tall, almost monolithic Corinthian column appeared nearby. It was a symbol of strength and solidity, suggesting that these foundations weren’t made of Scrape sand. Of course, everything Darkside was. Nevertheless, at first glance, all was well inside the Agora.
    The bass beat of the song ramped up the rhythm while the bell rang, its tone shifting higher into the clamor of church bells. The drums began to roll, and ahead in the clearing, a swell of concert screams rose. The air crackled with the synergy of all the revelers’ excitement. Noah Aldric, the lead singer, must have appeared.
    Jordan breached the tree line, and through the magic of the Rêve, was able to see the band clearly—every “seat” in a dream concert was VIP. She had a smile on her face and her spirits were so high that she was on the verge of laughing out loud or screaming along with the other revelers who’d come. The energy was contagious, and truth be told, the music rocked. She had to buy this album. And maybe a T-shirt. And here she’d been wishing she’d gone with Rook to the infamous black market. This was way better.
    The landscape sloped downward to form a natural amphitheater, and beyond it was just sky. The setting was a surreal floating island in the atmosphere. A few hundred people were scattered around the grassy incline toward the stage—as if they’d just arrived, as well—but Jordan could sense thousands of revelers. If she squinted, her Darksight let her see the silhouettes of the masses that were really here.
    Their excitement was palpable in the waters, a kind of fun she hadn’t felt in a long time. She really needed to get out more. Maisie had been nagging her for years about it, and Jordan was ready to concede that her little sis had been right. Fun is good .
    It didn’t hurt that Noah was the very image of a rock god, bare-chested and rippling with muscles. His head was down over the mic, his long blond hair curtaining his face on both sides. Which was okay because Jordan was plenty happy ogling his abs. Not that Malcolm