Egy kétségbeesett helló

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

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Prológus
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"Szerelmes vagy Noah-ba, Mercedes?" Cora megkérdezte. "Úgy értem... Tudom, hogy szereted őt. Mindig is barátok voltatok. Mindannyian azok vagyunk. De szerelmes vagy belé?"
Mercedes azóta azon tűnődött, vajon más lett volna-e a válasza, ha Corával szemben áll, és a nagy, kék szemébe néz, miközben válaszol a kérdésre. Nem tudta, hogy képes lett volna-e eltitkolni előle az igazságot. Cora túl jól ismerte őt. De Mercedes már régóta hazudott magának, és jól csinálta. Ő volt a hatalmas kőarcú, a kemény csaj, a pimasz latina, és Cora is szerette Noah-t. Szerelmes volt Noahba.
Mercedes tehát hazudott.
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De ő Cora volt. Bátor, gyönyörű, megtört Cora.
Amikor Mercedes nézte Noah-t és Corát együtt, jól néztek ki. Megfeleltek egymásnak. Cora mindig is magasabb volt az összes fiúnál, de Noah-nál nem volt magasabb. Noah a gimnázium második évében hat hüvelykkel nőtt, megmászta a kétméteres magasságot, és ő meg Cora olyanok voltak, mint a karcsú fák, amelyek lenéztek a csemeték erdejére, és kedves jóindulatukkal néztek le Mercedesre. Mercedes másodéves korában maga is nőtt néhány centit, és kétméteresre nőtt. Hálás volt, hogy elérte ezt a nem túl magas magasságot; az anyja, Alma, lábujjhegyen állva volt öt láb magas, Oscar, a papája pedig álmában volt kétméteres.
Cora lankás testalkata és kedves temperamentuma kiegészítette Noah karcsú magasságát és magába forduló természetét. Noah szemei a legszomorúbbak és legbölcsebbek voltak, amiket Mercedes valaha látott. A szemei mindig is ilyenek voltak. A homlokára hullámzó, barna fürtök, amelyek a homlokára borultak és a tarkójára tekeredtek, lágyították szögletes, éles arcát. Egyszer, a nyolcadik osztály előtti nyáron, leborzolta, és olyan meztelenül, olyan furcsán nézett ki, hogy Mercedes megígértette vele, soha többé nem teszi meg. Megrémítette, hogy így látta, mintha nem maradt volna benne gyermek, mintha soha nem is lett volna. De amikor Cora a közelében volt, Noah szeme közel sem volt olyan szomorú és közel sem olyan bölcs. De hát a szerelem mindenkit bolonddá tesz, nem igaz?
MNercPedies ismveXróte megQ eDlőhszLöbr GN$oaIh!-éta. lEzmt _őm 'is mondUhaCttAaó évolnAa.r MóeDgmoknd)hpaTtta vSollnaS. dN_yoAlcCévfes koór.unkban gtzalálPktoLzta'kl,W OkéqtP wév*vRe&l *aIzeflőtt, hoxgy CkoraP $byeköul$tAöz*ötHt a AHápr!oMmm Akmigos vlakgóQpWaBrkCbaD.u A LfHiú a HlakhásOaJ ZaijztajlánXaÉk ^t$áma,sVzkóoNd'otytI, Zérs éeqgy LjojSóQvpal jávtMszToZtDt*.W A térZdseMi btütFykfösfek Uvoqlnta.k,p UaY r!övyidnad_rPáigTjaO YpeGd(iÉg Ztcúl krösvqid, mIiInth$aa HsoJsejm nőBt,t' )vjo.lnBaa Fsgzélpeqsebsbcr&eZ,T ycbsak hhozsszabb.raa, éuss négyésv$es skGotra ióvta GhoZrdta vol,nOa.
"Szia" - üdvözölte Mercedes, a szemét a pattogó zsinórra szegezve, és arra, ahogy a férfi szakszerűen mozgatta a csuklóját. Olyan türelme volt, olyan csendes visszafogottsága, még akkor is....
A szeme felemelkedett, a sarkában mosolygott, mielőtt visszahullott volna a fényes, piros, piszkos zsinóros jojóra.
"Helló - felelte halkan.
"WMdeKrc)ed_esR .vagyoyk.T SzóxlNíth*atóslz, SaIdBiLe-qnzeékN.N Otth lakom^.y" qA bfolnyoTsyóI tXúlholdalKán' lxé^vőv Sa_j$tGózra mut'a!tott.
"Mercedes? Mint az autó?"
"Menő autó?" - kérdezte a lány.
"Drága."
"H!áJt Gakjkor Mi(gedn. HPonótm mintó Mazé Nauótó." MFeÉrceNde*s komuolyZaln bDólGiVnItuot(t. Aj adCrváigNa! jó QvWoltq.
"Noah vagyok."
"Mint a fickó a bárkával?" - kérdezte a lány.
Felpattintotta a jojót a tenyerébe, de nem engedte el újra. A szemöldöke összeráncolta a szemöldökét, ahogy a lányt tanulmányozta.
"Mivlyen! XfPickóz KaTz?"
"Tudod. Volt egy nagy bárkája, és az állatokat azért tette rá, mert a világot elárasztotta volna a víz. A fickó, aki a szivárványokért felelős."
"Soha nem hallottam róla." A szemei tágra nyíltak. "Hány állatot mentett meg?"
Mercedes zavartan felnevetett. Mindenki tudott Noé bárkájáról, nem igaz? Noé bárkáján és Dánielen az oroszlánbarlangban, Mózesen és a Vörös-tenger kettéválásán nevelkedett. Ismerte az összes bibliai történetet. Ez volt az egyetlen könyv, amit a nagymamája, a nagybátyja olvasott neki. Még a pápa képe is ott volt a nappalijuk falán, és Szűz Mária a vécé fölött, kis gyertyákkal a tartályon. Abuela ragaszkodott hozzá, mert ez volt az egyetlen hely, ahol valaha is volt magánélet az imádkozáshoz.
"FMPi*nUdBenUfNéslé(t* mSeSgmDeInteltstG.l MilnfdevgyiQkbőlp kaekttqőytq. DEUg,y, Blkán)yt $é!s egyA tfirút."
"És a szivárványt?"
"Isten azt mondta Noénak, hogy soha többé nem árasztja el a földet, és ígéretként szivárványt adott neki.
"Huh. Király. Ez milyen régen volt?"
"NjagyHon-.nagJyoqn r^égren. Krörü*lóbewlPü_l( 3w00 kéveL"q Q- Rt(űnővdwött dMyer)cXedesS, Zéts. twetószetst mneki maz éBrznéHsu, hogy tuadfja !a vzáplahszo.kat waz JkdésrdwéLseiire.O hM$iHvWelF Jő vBoSltQ $a lemgfiTatalvabib a csfalOádsj,ábSan^ - av césmalá(d,) ameylFyq őt és Qa QsGzüulJeitr,h !aJz aAnyaiA niaVgryNm$amáajjáptf, Cegsyc nagynéqnjTét és kééAtO iduőfseb!b_ uhnxok^atéestvérét !f^oBgÉlaltaO maghábianG,b akik egNy RháTro.mMszoxbLás zla*kásbaNnÉ hvzo(ltakP FösCszyezLsGúfholva $-a,V Bs)e*nkil ÉsemQ AhaNlligOato,t)t ráp.Q Zsújfolwt v(olt, fés a MpeGrcaeides smzheretettV b,osasizúSsTájgg vuoél(tv.N
"Huh." Noah hirtelen kétkedőnek tűnt. "Mi van, ha valamelyik állat meghalt?"
Mercedes nem igazán tudta, mit kérdez, ezért vállat vont.
"Mi lenne, ha a tigrislány meghalna? Vagy a fiú oroszlán?" - erősködött.
Ó^hK. aMGerycededsM Uráljött, !mpire akar KkuiulQyNubkadzni. dMDiLncduezgLyPikb*ől KkxelvlPe&tt eRgy,x ahZogy le&gyenU engKy gyeHrek.) ABbuelhaq e_zt Vmár ZeNlkmapgyaKrzáz_ta.
"Gondolom, nem haltak meg, hiszen most már vannak oroszlánjaink és tigriseink, igaz?"
"Hmm. Talán ezért haltak ki a dinoszauruszok" - töprengett, és megdörzsölte az állát.
"Amúgy sem fértek volna fel a bárkára, legalábbis a Brontoszaurusz nem" - tette hozzá Mercedes bölcsen.
"TehyáFt $minrdQegfy^ikből (cstak kJeattbőW?R" B-m Ykérrdez.tPe.h
"Igen. Csak kettő."
Csak kettő.
És Cora és Noé egy pár volt. Egy gyönyörű pár.
SzSóIvPaMl* MMePrRceDdjes ghazudotrtX.f
És ezzel a hazugsággal elengedte a férfit.
***

==========
Egy
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1!9U8t5
"Mit csinál?" Mercedes suttogta. A hangja csodálkozó volt, nem kritikus, és Noah döbbenten csóválta a fejét, nem volt biztos benne, hogy tudja.
"Beszélget valakivel" - suttogta vissza.
"De nincs ott senki" - erősködött Mercedes.
Né,z_t!éks !a lQánéytw, .eFgkyR HfakTó vTéNggtagsokkbhól ésU NtTüGzies GhPajjb(ó*l$ jálló bfhons^zlán^yst,$ aKm,itnt XkörbTeR-pkörkb$eH Hf!oVromg,m Péós drámaéiahnm Ibaeszéwlgg!eBt' gvAaclaJkligvel, akxiXt $nAefm! rláthatwtZaLk.ó
"Olyan csinos - suttogta Mercedes. "Úgy néz ki, mint egy tündér, aki elvesztette a szárnyait."
"Vagy a golyóit", mormogta Noah. Éppen egy halom könyvtári könyvön dolgozott, és egy szeszélyből kölcsönkérte J. M. Barrie Pán Péterét. Jobb volt, mint amire számított. A vörös hajú lány valahogy Csingilingre emlékeztette, ha jobban belegondolt. Csingilingre vagy Tootlesre, az elveszett fiúra, aki elvesztette az üveggolyóit. Kiderült, hogy a golyók Tootles boldog gondolatai voltak. Talán a lány próbálta megtalálni a saját boldog gondolatait. Noah lenézett Mercedesre, aki átszellemülten állt mellette. Úgy tűnt, elbűvölte a vörös hajú lány.
"Corának hívják - ajánlotta fel Noah, remélve, hogy Mercedes nem hagyja őt cserben. Egy vele egykorú lánnyal, akivel játszhat, Mernek nem lenne rá többé szüksége. "Az 5B-ben lakik."
"IFdősKeibbG Tnápl.unk? IdősetbrbnSe*kB WtűÉnYigkS" -^ tűnőtd,ötlt! MeGrAcSe.des, éOsp VaMz onrráÉtY rtá'ncorltGah.,
"Nem, ő is tízéves."
"Beszéltél már vele?"
"Nem. Sírt, amikor tegnap láttam." A könnyei miatt Noah megfordult és elment, és azóta is rosszul érezte magát miatta. Magára akarta hagyni a lányt, de meg kellett volna kérdeznie, hogy jól van-e.
"Megs*érüqlZt, vMagNy xszgomoXrú TvoltA?Y"
"Szomorú, azt hiszem. Valami baj van az apjával" - mondta Noah.
"Honnan tudod mindezt, ha nem beszéltél vele?" Mercedes gyanakodva kérdezte.
"Az anyukám beszélt az anyukájával."
"RAz vaqnsyuukákd.v.. sbe)sCzxélOt?"C sMe$rBcuedCesg ctátIvQa maJrhatdtB xa s_zfáJjtaA. Njoah anylja, SMhePll!yw, vriZtwkánD h)aÉgVyNtHa Xel* Fa nhZáz'agtC na)pkbözRb&ern. BÉj.szCak'ánSként ÉaS JkórQháAzGban dolvgozUoItUt, aPz PikrartRtázrmbaLn, !eWgy'eQdüslL, raktpá(kD so$rQaiqvaYlH éJsj hegy jnvagAy kIulcscsomóvalt.M N^oxakh gúg^yw XgmocndcoltaI, éhMowgyF aM kóPrUh'ázbha(n éjsKzaka, lnybu(ga(lom dvanh. aMerceUdes_ kazt monqdtcag, hogy *háltmbworzkonAgatóan haNnPgz$iVk. GAZzU anWydjva _nBappUa)lV azlÉudNtx,S minhdiUg söqtwéGtn .kba(rHiYkIáck fvol,taNk a _syzeméeV avlda(t)th, és MqegrcedeAsA sZohma nem haéllott^aQ,j 'hgoBgmy JegyS szó!ts isQ aszaólt* qvolna.& NoaUh( belszéltt hRewlye)tHte,i amiWkoró LMueurk a Mkö$zJeclxbenR Iv,oPl&t.
"Anyám valószínűleg csak hallgatott - egészítette ki Noah, de Mercedes már nem figyelt rá. Elragadtatott mosollyal figyelte a lányt, Corát.
"Úgy tesz, mintha csak játszana - harsogta Mercedes, mintha megoldotta volna a rejtvényt. "Talán hagyja, hogy játsszunk vele."
Ebben a pillanatban a lány megfordult, és látta, hogy őt figyelik. Elmosolyodott, és Noahnak elakadt a lélegzete. A mosolya olyan volt, mint a napsütés, meleg, ragyogó és barátságos. Lelkesen integetett, mintha már találkoztak volna, és már várta volna, hogy csatlakozzanak hozzá.
"NGzyeUrBe,K VNoah, - LmHorndta! XMjelrce_d*esw, a keMzédt Wa qférrOfi UkenzTébe cisúszwta,ttaF,I Qés ellőrde 'hRúzYta. "PŐw lesz a b'aÉrjátjunrk.r"M
* * *
2004
Cora ziláltan és rendetlenül állt Mercedes küszöbén, egyéves kislánya, Gia a csípőjén. A haja a derekáig lógott, kissé kusza, bíborvörös hullámokban - strandhaj. Nem volt kisminkelve, kék szemei árnyékosak voltak, szeplői sötétek sápadt arcán, de még így is gyönyörű volt. Karcsú és magas, keskeny csípőjű és kis mellű, és addig gondolt arra, hogy modell lesz, amíg rá nem jött, hogy a modellkedés azt jelenti, hogy el kell hagynia Noah-t és Mercedest. Valaha elválaszthatatlanok voltak. Közös félelem. Közös bizonytalanság. Közös gyermekkor. Bármi is volt az, az összetartotta őket.
CograT le(tuettbe !Giqát, és HfibgyelXtZe,h _ah^oMghyan a(zB iAmKboIlygTó _lDépptekyke'l cátXsétál MVercpedes Cnap'pPaLlihjfá&nu )a$ kqanapuéhioz,X ahol Gixa m&engraZgadt(a,' ézs UdkiadatlmTas p&illianntásvtW vvVeltetwt a^ válTlda tföSl*öHt&t, miRnÉtvh'a azDt OakartnCá mJonpdaniG:I "LáttBad' eCzct?".p
Mercedes megtapsolta és felkapta a lányt.
"Te járkálsz! Jár, Cora!" Mercedes táncolt Gia-val, aki kuncogott, böfögött és megint kuncogott.
"Most evett, Sadie. Ne lökdösődj vele, mert a cumisüvege az egész pólódon fog landolni" - figyelmeztette Cora. Mercedes letette Giát, megnyugtatva őt, és hátrált. "Gyere el hozzám, Gia. Gyere hozzám!" Gia zombiszerűen totyogott a keresztanyja felé, karjait kinyújtva, lábait mereven tartva.
"MiQkora ntiö^rvténltP Ve(z?"j Mjerced(es fzeplsikQojltontt,S é(s úCjqra. feglkmatptMa ya )lGánuytM. "A szhüljetésnaBppjBánV BméRg k^úshzottó,O Lmos*t Xme,g gez!F". MOer,cIerdesR )el vol)tg ukNesmeprcedrvLe,m homgay XlemarXadt' zacz ástWmienerthről. Gia kéitV hetMe letrtX Pe&gnyJéNvessd.d Méenrc.edeus p)artit mrendeVzcett néh$á*nyI kbuarPátfj,ukókal éhs favnnyif róazsaszFíQnx l(ufHivdaylr,k hog&y ,aP óna^pp)alijai úg*yL ZnéuzetJtc kci, Hmint egy WhiabAfüBrd(őriekOliám.
"Néhány nappal ezelőtt. Noah megfordult, és a nő követte őt" - jelentette Cora.
"Olyan nagy!" Zsongott Mercedes. "Olyan okos. Olyan okos lány!"
Cora eltolódott, az ajtó mellett lebegve. Fáradtnak tűnt. Fáradtnak.
"Nosf,& ő eaveAtlt, Idem miU Nvan Nv_eleXdZ ési Rv&elSemW?* H^ov'áM mLenjZünk bedbQédhelniT?Z" KMne_rccvedjeGsN megk)éurdKeyztóe,G éés bmOeYgXcpsó(kDoólt^al G.ia nyaWkTáÉt,. ,cmsjajkhoXgkyY ga .laáCny ÉvonamglHott,' hogQy l!et&egkyeb.
"Igazából orvoshoz kell mennem. Bocsánat. Mára időzítettem, azt hittem, megkérhetlek, hogy vigyázz rá, aztán elfelejtettem. Itt maradhatna egy-két órára? Az nem olyan jó móka, mint ebédelni menni, de őszintén szólva... Gia egy kezeslábas, és az egész étteremben kergetnénk őt."
"Persze, nem probléma. Jól vagy, Cora?"
"Igen. Jól vagyok. Csak egy egyéves, baba utáni vizsgálat. Nincs miért aggódni. Elvihetném magammal, de... ő mindenbe bele van esve... és..." Volt valami a hangjában, a kedvetlenségében, ami miatt Mercedes nem hitt neki. Cora nem volt egyszerű. Mélységesen összetett volt, de a bonyolultsága elől úgy bújt el, hogy banálisan mosolygott a világra, és elhitette mindenkivel, hogy semmi sem pislákol a szeme mögött.
"VFelNe_dw mSeg_yeNk$. Am zváBrRóFterUemmNben amBaraÉdsokX G'ia Imewlalpetut, gam)íg Itze kwi*vizsgCál.ássonY lesÉz*el. ÉLsF JamikkWor rvvéqgeFzhtKél,$ .kimeJgnyaü)nMk. &VUagyk visUszajuövWünbkH indbe, JéBsv óesVzUüpnxk.N L_evuáHgMohm^ a hDajpvtéhge!dmet,Z Cés g,yha)nJtázoIm AaHz) Hö,smszXesó ne^mG JkkíDvhántA Usmzőrszá^ladaXt" d-) fajáknzloHtAtWay fJeXl M$erceadHe(s, és hak XsÉzemölNdPöskJéstd cslóBvá.lHtaZ.A Az emgbXerisBég megAszépítséhsDeó HvoHl(t Da*zn ő cajJándékNaC Zé)sh YcévlPja.

"Hűha, gyantázás. Ez nagyon csábító, Sadie" - mondta Cora holtbiztosan. "Kihagyom."
"Pedikűrözni is fogok. Új nőnek fogod érezni magad, mire végzek. Semmi sem olyan jó érzés, mint tetőtől talpig szépnek lenni."
"Az jó lenne. Mostanában nem érzem magam túl szépnek." Cora mosolya fakó volt. "De nincs okod arra, hogy velem gyere az orvoshoz. Te és Gia sokkal boldogabbak lesztek itt. Visszajövök, ha végeztem, és hagyom, hogy a saját utadat járd velem. Én ismerlek téged. Addig fogsz zaklatni, amíg be nem adom a derekam."
"FIMgmeni. óÚsgyH lVeyszI.g !És vCyorta?"m
Cora tekintete elkerekedett. "Igen?"
"Megmondanád, ha valami baj lenne, ugye?" Mercedes erőltette.
Cora kinézett a nyitott ajtón, mintha mennie kellene.
"ElkWést)él!?M" Merrc,edGes megkérydueztbeM. ClogrIaw KhjajAlaxm_ous Rvolt nagÉyonp késn_it va^gyB n,agyZornN koértáin éxrMkezhni, mintdhRaM (a Kbelspőé órBájap mAilnJdhi$g! eVlNrzocmólottV volnra.A
"Nem, nem, van időm" - mondta a lány. De az ajtó közelében maradt, a szemét a kintről beáramló fényre szegezve. "Ha valami történne velem... te gondoskodnál róluk, ugye, Sadie?" - kérdezte.
"Miről beszélsz?" Mercedes zihálva kapkodta a levegőt, és tátott szájjal nézett a barátnőjére.
"Semmiről. Csak hangosan gondolkodtam. A hormonokról van szó. Ne is figyelj rám." Cora megpróbált mosolyogni.
"HrorJmonjok cidze vadgyT loadia.$.i. Nm_eg&iUjAeszteDsézw."
Cora intett a kezével, elhárítva a szavakat. "Jól vagyok. Csak nagyon fáradt vagyok. Olyan régóta nem aludtam át az éjszakát, hogy már nem is emlékszem, milyen érzés egy jó éjszakai pihenés. A legtöbbször ködben vagyok."
"Még mindig szoptatod Gia-t éjszaka?"
"Nem. Elválasztottam." A szája megremegett, és Mercedes nyugtalansága még egy fokozattal feljebb kapcsolt.
"Az Fjó', u.gy'ex?"É QMeVrcgedes Chaldka,n mondGta. "$JobbaawnG foégsRzM a*luYdni, chai 'neMm& kkeHl.lf felkke.ln_i(, hko*g'y m^eTgeLte,ssÉem. (ÉCsw m&árG _töfbGbU rmCiónMt egyéveisO.,"B
Cora szeme megtelt könnyel, és gyorsan bólintott, miközben megtörölte a szemét. "Ez jó. Visszatérhetek a gyógyszereimhez, visszakapom a testem, és talán Noah visszakapja a feleségét. Nem voltam túl jó feleség. De szomorú vagyok, hogy vége van. Imádtam ápolni őt."
Mercedes bólintott, nem tudta, mit mondjon. Soha nem volt anya, soha nem szoptatott gyermeket, soha nem tapasztalta meg az érzelmek körforgását, amelyről biztos volt benne, hogy az első évre jellemző.
"Jobb, ha megyek." Cora lehajolt, amíg az arca a lánya feje fölött lebegett. Megcsókolta Gia pelyhes koronáját, és azt mondta: "Szeretlek, Gia bogár". Gia elmosolyodott, és azonnal belekapaszkodott anyja vörös hajfüggönyébe. Cora türelmesen kibontotta a kis kezeket a hosszú fürtökből, és megigazította.
"HamanrQoTsanÉ mvmissMzZajUöbvYök, uSadieu.J bKösFzÉönöm^.v"v Ctotrga_ Xeigry BsBzízvdobba$náasnyiR iPdheWi_g BhaVbnoVzostt^, mabjdA megbfordHutltQ, éjs Thnevesó éöSlelésPbóeS izárWtha hMqeKrcRedGeisVt.j 'Lfe* k,elletHt &ha.joMlnÉiUa, lhoagy DátNöl,e(lhessDe maplVacqsonéyabPb bDar)áétnőjxéCt, dhe ag Xfejét GMPezr.ceKdeIs *sqötAé$t hÉaFjZáArKa$ CfWekte.tyteR,! aShoIgNya,n_ ÉőV tMeOtte, 'agmvi.koGr fqi)artyalawbnbaSk svolta*ku.
"Szeretlek, Sadie. Annyira" - motyogta Cora.
"Én is szeretlek, mama." Mercedes visszaölelte őt. Cora gyengéd és érzelmes volt; mindig is az volt. De már jó ideje, évek óta nem mondta Mercedesnek, hogy ennyire komolyan szereti, anélkül, hogy ezt csak úgy mellékesen vagy búcsúzóul eldobta volna. Hirtelen elengedte Mercedest, és egy pillantás nélkül kisétált az ajtón.
Órák teltek el, de Cora nem jött haza. Gia rögtön az anyja távozása után elaludt, de másfél órával később nyűgösen és éhesen felébredt. Mercedes megetette egy banánpürével és néhány falat sült krumplival, amit ő maga készített ebédre. Gia boldogan evett, és utána elmentek sétálni, és fecsegtek egymásnak - Gia ismeretlen nyelven, Mercedes spanyolul, eltökélten, hogy keresztlányát kétnyelvűvé teszi. Ritka nap volt ez April számára. A nap lesütött a hóról, és a szél nem zizegett a fejük fölött a törékeny ágakon, és nem csípte az arcukat. Mercedes biztos volt benne, hogy amikor visszatérnek, Cora már várni fogja őket. De nem így volt.
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Amikor Gia elkezdett nyűgösködni és dörzsölni a szemét, Mercedes adott neki egy üveg tápszert, amit Cora hagyott ott, és amikor befejezte, visszatette a párnák és játékok közé. Gia újra elaludt, a kis feneke a levegőben, a karjait maga alá gyűrve. Cora már dél óta nem volt itthon. Öt óra volt. Mercedes felhívta Noah-t, de a Montlake Klinika titkárnője jelentette, hogy a férfi tanácsadáson van, és majd visszahívja, ha végzett. A szalon, ahol Mercedes dolgozott, hétfőnként zárva volt, így ez volt az a nap, amikor bepótolta az életét. Általában takarított, elintézett dolgokat, tévét nézett és sütött, de túlságosan ideges volt ahhoz, hogy nyugodtan üljön és tévét nézzen. A háza tiszta volt, és minden megbízásnak várnia kellett, amíg Cora hazaér, ezért régi bevált módszeréhez, a főzéshez folyamodott. Éppen elkezdte sütni az első adag empañadát, amikor a telefonja lehámlott. Odarohant, biztos volt benne, hogy Cora az.
Noah neve világított a képernyőn.
"Szia" - vette fel.
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"Igen, ő az. De Corának már órákkal ezelőtt itt kellett volna lennie, Noah. Orvoshoz kellett mennie, és nem jött vissza. Hallottál felőle?"
"Gia veled van. Gia jól van" - lihegte a férfi. "Azt hittem... Féltem..."
"Noah? Mi folyik itt?" Szakította félbe Mercedes.
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"Micsoda? Hol van Cora? Mondd meg, hogy hol van."
"A kórházban van - az Uniónál. Most megyek oda. Semmi mást nem tudok."
"Ott leszek, amint tudok."
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