The day was laboriously long. Not that she was surprised. Stella tortured her and whined and bitched just as expected. Sulking, complaining, and doing a half-ass job was what Stella did best. Ellette hardly even noticed except for the fact that the line never seemed to dissolve and her workload was a constant. It was a blessing really, to be so busy. Her mind was elsewhere, lost on thoughts of things she had no control of and no way to deal with.

She had to find Jessie. Whether or not the woman would be of any help was the question. The bus was late, and the rain managed to soak her through before she'd even gotten to the shelter at the bus stop. She huddled at the back of the shelter, flinching as each car managed to find the one pothole that sprayed water in her direction. So much for finding Jessie. The busker woman would not be out in the park today, not in this weather. Yet the park was the one sure place to find her. No, Ellette would have to hunt her down if she was to have any hope of finding her.

She stopped at the first cafe when the rain was beginning to let up, asking around and getting only head shakes. Then it was on to the library, packed but devoid of the little redhead. She continued on to the coffee shop and splurged. Wrapping her hands around the paper cup she settled into a corner seat to thaw out and dry off a little. There were only two other shops she knew Jessie to frequent. If the woman didn't manifest, the search would have to wait. Ellette could feel the cold seeping down to her core and if she wasn't careful she'd be sick for real.

Cup in hand, she moved on down the street and bumped into a lanky young man. He reached out to steady her, and she laughed when she realized who it was. "Boris? Fancy meeting you like this," she smiled up at him, wiping her lank locks from her eyes. "I hunt for you for more than a year, and now I run into you at random on the street."

He shrugged. "Funny how that sort of thing happens. You okay, Ellette? You're soaked through."

"Yeah, I'll be heading in shortly. I’m looking for Jessie, though. Have you seen her?"

He shook his head and then stopped, considering. "What do you need her for?"

"You remember when I mentioned my dream journals? I've got some questions about some of the dreams I've been having. She's pretty good at that sort of thing."

"Ah," he nodded, then hesitated. "I know a thing or two about dreams. Maybe I could take a look?"

She sighed. It wasn't what she'd been hoping for but she couldn't think of a good explanation. Besides, she liked Boris, and spending time with him would be a welcome distraction. Rand wouldn’t be home until late tonight, and the thought of sitting at home alone wondering and worrying was not appealing.

“Alright,” Ellette answered, happy to share his umbrella. “Let's head back to the apartment, I’ll pull out my journals and you can psychoanalyze me. It’ll be fun.”

Once Boris was settled in on the couch thumbing through one of her journals, Ellette changed into dry clothes. “So, what do you think?” she asked, heading into the kitchen.

He glanced up. “Ah, well, your dreams are quite vivid, to say the least. I don’t think I’ve ever read any dream journals quite so detailed.”

“Well, I’m careful to write them down before I forget.” She fished through the fridge. “Want something to drink?” She studied a few bottles, “We have, ah... something called kom- buch-ah, coconut water, and some iced tea. I think if I dig in the back there might be some beer if you prefer.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he stood, one of the journals still in hand, “I want to talk to you about this, though.”

She made her way to him, a glass of tea in hand. “What?”

He tapped the page, “This last entry. About this Evelyn woman.”

“Ah, that, that is what I wanted to talk to Jessie about.”

“I can see why. Do you really think Rand is in trouble?”

She shrugged. “It was just a dream. Rand swears it’s paranoia.”

He sighed and put the journal down. “Ellette, sometimes dreams are more than just dreams.”

She laughed nervously. “You’ve been talking to Jessie...”

He approached her, and she took a step back. “Listen, Ellette. I’m here to help.”

“Help with what?” she asked warily, taking another step back.

He put his hands up. “I know about your dreams...”

A cold feeling rushed over her, and she nearly dropped the glass in her hand. “What do you know?” She took another step back, feeling the couch behind her. Her knees felt weak, and the comfort of the cushions beneath her was a relief. She sat down the glass as she stared up at Boris, this tall young man, still very much a boy. He was a college student, nothing else. Or so she had assumed.

“I know of your dreams.” He paused, considering his wording. “I know they take you elsewhere. That you are a champion....”

“A champion?” She cut him off.

“A knight, a paladin, whatever you wish to call it.” He continued, undeterred. “You serve the moon, the mother goddess, a beacon of hope in the dark.”

She laughed, but it was a bitter hollow sound. “You’ve been reading too much, too much mythology alongside your psychology.” She tried to keep her tone light, but there was an icy grip of suspicion, of anger, of betrayal on her. “No, I know. You’re one of those people, the kind that study psychology because you’re crazy.” Do the voices in your head tell you this stuff about me?” The words were panicked and all too familiar, she’d taunted Jessie in much the same way, only to realize that the woman knew her, knew what she was perhaps better than she did herself. She fumbled for the phone in her pocket. Rand was on speed dial, or if he really spooked her, she could call the police.

“Ellette, please.” His tone was that cold detached confidence that she both respected and hated in so many psychologists. He sat back down on the bench by the bay window, giving her her space. “Don’t you want answers?”

She shook her head again. “I thought you’d tell me some sort of Freudian theories. You shouldn’t believe in this nonsense...”

“Your talents, they draw attention. I’ve been aware of you for a long time. After Rand found you, I thought I’d done what needed to be done. I assumed he was the one you needed.” He shook his head, a stray lock of his slicked-back hair falling into his face. “There’s more, though. Someone else is pulling at the strings of fate.”

“How long, Boris?” Ellette growled, hands clenched at her sides. “How long have you been watching me? How long have you known about me?” This mysterious threat, it meant little to her. Her mind had locked onto one thing. He’d been watching while she struggled, while she’d begged at back doors of shops for food, worked any odd job she could. Had he been there, watching while Dani suffered and died?

He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Doesn’t matter, Boris?” Her voice trembled, and she struggled to stay calm. “This is my life! If you could have helped if you’d known, how could you have not done more? I would have done more if I could...”

“I don’t like to interfere,” his tone was cold and clinical. “My concern is that you’ve drawn the attention of others. And they are, for some reason I cannot fathom, interested in Rand.”

She put her face in her hands, overwhelmed. “I finally feel normal, almost happy, and now this,” she muttered, not caring if he overheard. “Now I have to listen to this.” She spat the last word, emphasizing the all-encompassing nature of it.

“It may not mean anything. But warnings are worth heeding. The fact that Rand’s mother reached out to you...” He sighed, running his hand through his still-damp hair, sliding the stray locks back into place. “Are you sure she said nothing else?”

Ellette shook her head. “No, no. I couldn’t hold on long enough.” She sat up, reason finally breaching her anguish. “What of Jessie? Is she like you?”

Boris laughed then. “Oh, Jessie is like me, in a way. Though her interest in you I think is more passing. She is exactly what she says she is. Fae. She is a wild woman and knows things. Beyond that, she has her own agenda.”

Ellette nodded and sighed. “What about you, Boris? What are you in all of this?”

He grinned, suddenly looking far older than the teenaged body that housed him. “I am a friend to all Dreamwalkers, and have been for centuries...”

“Some good you’ve been up until now...” she muttered.

“Your pain is what made you who you are, what spawned your talents,” Boris explained. “I have always been on your side. I made sure that Gloria found you, that Dani found you again. And Rand, how do you think he ended up in this city? He had no idea where to look for you...”

She narrowed her eyes, “I could have used help a lot of times in between then, Boris.”

He shook his head, sadly. “I can only push things to work in your favor.” He stood again and went to the couch, crouching to meet her eye to eye. “I just want you to know someone was looking out for you, and still is.”

She spat out another bitter laugh. “I have the shittiest guardian angel in the world. You do have any idea of what I’ve been through? Do you know the living hell my childhood was? I have used some help then.”

He shook his head sadly. “Without that trauma, you would not be who you are today. I found you when you started Walking, not before.”

She sighed and stood, distancing herself from him. All the pain, rage, and frustration she had for the world, for the utter cruelty of it she kept forced down, deep inside was bubbling up within her once more. “I need you to go, Boris. I need to be alone.”

He made his way to the door, and she didn’t turn, didn’t look at him. “Call me when you’re ready,” he said and slipped through the door. Settling back down on the couch she felt the familiar presence in her pocket, the subtle stiffness of a piece of paper. Without looking, she knew what it was. A card with Boris’s number.