Rondel realized this, too, and his fury reached new peaks as people began popping out of the Dream not just one at a time, but in groups of ten, or even twenty. He was losing his hold on them. Wayne was winning. That was a situation he could not tolerate.
The Masterdreamer cut loose with a blast of mental energy stronger than Wayne had expected. The attack was wordless, a silent rage that caught Wayne unprepared. He was suddenly drowning in a seething sea of Rondel’s hatred.
“Vin! Vinnie!” A sharp female voice, vaguely familiar, cut through the air. The waves of anger stopped as abruptly as they’d begun, to be replaced by equal amounts of confusion. Rondel and Wayne both looked around to see where the voice had come from.
Above their heads, suspended in space, was a four-poster bed with
