In practically no time at all she stood in front of her door, the wood scarred and chipped but still strong. The 4A was written in small white figures and affixed to the varnished surface of the door.

She dragged her keys from her pocket, disengaged the five locks that prevented access, then stepped inside and locked them all over again, just to be safe.

One thing was sure, if the Dragon had followed her here, he was going to have a bit harder time getting inside than he had in Paris. For one, there weren’t any balconies. For another, this was her home and she would brook no one inside its walls that didn’t belong.

The big room had a fourteen-foot ceiling. Shelves lined the walls and many of them sagged under the weight of the books or rocks and artifacts that filled them nearly to overflowing. A desk sat in one corner, all but buried by the sketch pads, books and file folders scattered across its surface.

Stacked haphazardly around, and in one case under, her desk was a veritable sea of electronics, from the hollowed out shell of an Xbox video console to a brand new LCD projector the size of a cigarette pack she’d gotten on loan from a company that was looking to have her test it in the field.

All the nervous energy she’d been expending since she’d left her hotel room in Paris finally caught up with her. She dropped her bag and backpack by the bed, toppled into it and was asleep in less than a minute.

14

True to his word, Doug had called back and left a message on her voice mail, which she found when she finally returned to the land of the living early the next morning.

“Hi Annja, it’s me, Doug. I managed to call in a few favors and get you an appointment to see Dr. Julie Laurent. She’s in the Village, on Houston, and can fit you in for a nine-thirty tomorrow morning. You might want to call her ahead of time and give her a little bit more information about how she can help you, as she had a lot of questions that I just couldn’t answer, but otherwise you’re all set. You owe me one. How about dinner on Friday at Domenico’s? Talk to ya later.” He rambled off the address and then hung up.

Just as he’d suggested, Annja called the doctor ahead of time and gave her the story she’d come up with to explain why she wanted to be hypnotized. Dr. Laurent took it all pretty well, only asking a question here and there that focused on her family history and the state of her insurance, then said she’d see her soon.

Annja took the subway to Manhattan, changed trains at Thirty-second Street and then rode another train the rest of the way to the Village.

Once on the street, it didn’t take her long to find the building, sandwiched as it was between a deli and an office park.

The doctor’s office had its own entrance with a buzzer, but the gate was unlocked and the door to the foyer open, so she didn’t bother ringing and instead climbed the steps just inside the door to the narrow landing at the top. A small brass plaque was tacked to the wall next to the only door in sight. Dr. Julie Laurent, Hypnotherapy.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Annja said to the silence around her. Reaching out, she knocked on the door.

“Coming, coming” came a voice from within, and a moment later the door opened to reveal a gray-haired woman in her mid-sixties, dressed in cream-colored pants and a pale blue sweater. A pair of wire-framed glasses hung on a silver chain about her neck. Her dark eyes sparkled with intelligence.

“Are you Annja?”

“That’s me,” Annja replied, and extended her hand.

They shook and the doctor led her inside the office and over to an arrangement of leather couches and chairs that occupied one side of the room.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Annja said as she sat down, taking in the room around her as she did so.

It was a bright and airy place, despite its small size, and Annja was immediately charmed by it. French doors made up the external wall and beyond their gossamer curtains she could see a tiny balcony, with just enough room for a wicker chair and a table. In the far corner of the room, cloaked in shadow, was a masculine-looking desk that appeared to serve more as a storage depot than a work area.

“Not quite what you were expecting?” Dr. Laurent asked, startling Annja out of her examination.

Annja laughed. “No, not quite. I was expecting something a bit more doom and gloom, I guess.”

Laurent nodded knowingly. “My clients bring enough of that with them on their own,” she said. “So I try to give them something a bit less intimidating. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

Annja shook her head. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“All right, then. Tell me what I can do for the star of Chasing History’s Monsters,” the doctor said as she leaned back in her chair.

Annja relayed the same story that she’d given over the phone—how she had been plagued for months with this recurring dream of a swordsman, the blade he wielded with such skill and fervor, and the hand-to-hand combat they ultimately engaged in. She knew the dream was trying to tell her something, she said, for she’d never had one with such intensity or frequency before. Except every time she woke up, all she could remember was the fact that she dreamed of a man wielding a sword, and nothing about who he might be or what he might want. Annja hoped the dream story would cover any slipups she might make under hypnosis.

“Our dreams are often a way for our subconscious mind to try to tell us something—you are certainly correct about that. And given your line of work, I’m not surprised that your subconscious is using metaphors like the ones you describe to try to reach you. After all, if it had manifested in your dreams as an overweight clown with bright red hair, you might have simply brushed it off, no?”

If it were only that easy, Annja thought.

“It’s possible that something about the man’s face, the clothes he is wearing or even the weapon he carries is a symbol for something else in your life, something that is bothering you. No worries, we’ll get to the bottom of it for you.

Dr. Laurent took a sip from her glass of water, then asked, “Have you ever been hypnotized before?”

Annja shook her head. “I almost did so at a comedy club once, but chickened out at the last minute.”

The doctor smiled, trying to put her at ease. “That’s fine. The process is pretty simple, actually. First, I’ll take you through a series of muscle relaxation techniques that are designed to put you in the right frame of mind for phase two, which is the trance itself.

“While in the trance, you’ll relive the dream, but you will have complete control over it this time. You can speed it up or slow it down, even bring it to a complete stop if you like, just like using the pause button on your DVD player.”

“Will I remember what I see in the dream when I wake up?” Annja asked.

Dr. Laurent shook her head, saying, “You’re not actually asleep, but I know what you mean and the answer is no. You won’t remember any of the session consciously. However, I will be recording your responses the entire time and you’ll be able to sketch anything you see during the trance, so between the two we should be able to capture the essence of what your subconscious mind is trying to tell you, all right?”

It sounded as if that was the best she was going to get so Annja agreed. There had to be some detail she could uncover that would help her find the Dragon.

“Shall we begin, then?”