Bone Season 01: The Bone Season: A Novel (30 page)

“By causing pain.”

“If possession is performed well, it should not cause any pain. I do not expect you to possess a human. Certainly not tonight.”

“Then what do you want?”

He looked across the field. I followed his line of sight. The doe was scuffing her hoof against some flowers, watching them bob their heads. “Nuala,” I said.

“Yes.”

I watched the doe bend her head and snuffle at a patch of grass. I’d never considered practicing possession on animals. Animal minds were very different than human minds—less complex, less conscious—but that might make it harder. It might not even be possible for me to fit my human spirit into an animal body. Would I think like a human when I had an animal dreamscape? And then there were other concerns: Would it hurt the deer? Would she struggle against my infiltration, or let me straight in?

“I don’t know,” I said. “She’s too big. I might not be able to control her.”

“I will find something smaller.”

“What exactly do you want out of this?” When he said nothing, I continued: “You’re pretty pushy for someone who claims to be giving me an
opportunity
.”

“I want you to take this opportunity. I do not deny it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to survive.”

I held his gaze for a moment, trying to read him. I couldn’t. There was something about Rephaite faces that discouraged emotional guesswork. “Fine,” I said. “A smaller animal. An insect, a rodent, maybe a bird. Something with limited sentience.”

“Very well.”

He was about to turn away when he stopped. With a glance in my direction, he removed something from his pocket: a pendant on a thin chain. “Wear this,” he said.

“Why?”

But he was gone. I sat down on the edge of a small boulder, fighting a shiver of anticipation. Jax would be nodding his approval, but I wasn’t sure Nick would be doing the same.

I looked down at the pendant. It was about as long as my thumb, woven into the shape of wings. As I brushed my finger over it, there was a tiny tremor in the æther. It must have been sublimed. I pulled the chain over my head.

Nuala returned after a while, having grown bored of the grass. I was huddled against the boulder, my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket. It was extraordinarily cold now, and my breath came in white clouds. “Hello,” I said. Nuala sniffed at my hair, like she was trying to work out what it was, then bent her legs and huddled next to me. She laid her head in my lap and made a sort of contented huff. I pulled off my gloves and stroked her ears. Her coat smelled of musk. I could feel her heartbeat, thick and strong. I’d never been this close to a wild animal. I tried to imagine what it must be like to
be
this little doe: to stand on four legs, to live wild in the woods.

But I wasn’t wild. I’d lived in a Scion citadel for over a decade. All the wildness had gone out of me. That was why I’d joined Jax, I supposed. To cling to what was left of my old self.

After a moment, I decided to test the water. I closed my eyes and let my spirit drift. Nuala had a permeable dreamscape, thin and frail as a bubble. Humans built up layers of resistance over the years, but animals didn’t have all that emotional armor. In theory, I could control her. I gave her dreamscape the lightest of nudges.

Nuala let out a snort of alarm. I stroked her ears, shushing her. “Sorry,” I said. “I won’t do it again.” After a moment, she laid her head back on my lap, but she was quivering. She didn’t know it was me that had hurt her. I ran my fingers under her chin, scratching gently.

By the time Warden returned I was half-asleep. He roused me with a tap on the cheek. Nuala looked up, but Warden soothed her with a word, and she soon dozed off again.

“Come,” he said. “I have found you a new body.”

He sat on the boulder. I was struck by how he looked under the moon: perfectly outlined, strong-featured, with a radiance to his skin. “What is it?” I said.

“See for yourself.”

His hands were caged, fingertips just touching. I looked down at a fragile insect: a butterfly, or a moth. Hard to tell in the darkness.

“It was quiescent when I found it,” he said. “It is still lethargic. I thought it would make it easier.”

A butterfly, then. It was twitching in his hands.

“Cold spots frighten animals.” His voice was a soft rumble. “They can sense an open conduit to the Netherworld.”

“Why
did
you open it?”

“You will see.” He raised his gaze to meet mine. “Are you willing to attempt a possession?”

“I’ll try,” I said.

His eyes glowed hotter, like coals.

“You probably already know this,” I said, “but my body’s going to fall when I leave it. I’d appreciate it if you could catch me.”

I had to choke the words out. I hated asking him for a favor, even something so small and obvious.

“Of course,” Warden said.

I broke the eye contact first.

After a deep breath, I dislodged my spirit. At once my senses blurred, and I could see my dreamscape. I could already feel the æther. It grew stronger as I walked toward the edge of the poppy field, where it was dark. The æther was there, waiting for me.

I jumped.

I could see my silver cord, unraveling from my dreamscape, giving me a way to return. Warden’s dreamscape was close. The butterfly was only a dot beside it, a grain of sand beside a marble. I slid into its mind. There was no reactive jerk, no sudden panic from my host.

I found myself in a world of dreams. A world of color, washed in ocher light. The butterfly spent its days feeding on flowers, and their opulent colors made up all its memories. Ambrosial scents wafted from everywhere, lavender and grass and roses. I paced through the dewy dreamscape, heading for the brightest part. Pollen swirled from the flower-laden trees, catching in my hair. I’d never felt so free. There was no resistance; not even the faintest flinch of a defense mechanism. It was so painless, so easy and beautiful, like I’d stepped out of a heavy set of shackles. It felt
natural
. This was what my spirit longed to do, to wander in strange lands. It couldn’t stand being trapped in one body all the time. It had wanderlust.

When I came to the sunlit zone, I spied it: the lightest pink wisp of a spirit. I pursed my lips and blew, and it skittered away to the darker parts.

Now for the real test. If I’d worked this out correctly—and if Jax had been right when he explained it—stepping into the sunlit zone would allow me to take control of my new body.

As soon as I stepped into the circle, bright light flooded the whole dreamscape: golden light, rolling over me, filling my eyes and my skin and my blood. It blinded me. The world became a shattered diamond, an asterisk of luminous color.

For a while, there was nothing. My body vanished, and I couldn’t feel a thing. And then I woke up.

Panic registered first. Where were my arms, my legs? Why couldn’t I see? Wait, I
could
see—just—but everything was washed in vivid purple, and the green of the grass was too bright for my eyes. A spasm racked my flimsy limbs. It was like brain plague, but so much worse. I was crushed, suffocated, screaming with no lips or voice. And what were these things stuck on either side of me? I tried to move, and they gave a shudder, as if I was in my death throes.

Before I knew it, I’d thrown myself out of the butterfly and back into my body. I was shaking all over, gasping for air. I slid down off the rock and hit the ground on all fours.

“Paige?”

I retched. A vile, acidic taste filled my mouth, but nothing came out. “N-never doing that again,” I said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It was—it was so
easy
, b-but then—” I unzipped my jacket, my chest heaving. “I can’t do it.”

Warden was silent. He watched as I dabbed the sweat from my brow, trying not to hyperventilate. “You did do it,” he said. “Even though it was painful, you did it. Its wings moved.”

“I felt like I was
dying
when I did that.”

“But you did it.”

I leaned against the rock. “How long did I last?”

“Perhaps half a minute.”

Better than I expected, but still pitiful. Jaxon would have cracked a rib laughing. “Sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “Maybe I’m not as good as other dreamwalkers.”

His face was hard. “Yes,” he said, “you are. But if you do not believe it, you will not achieve your full potential.”

He opened his hand, and the butterfly flew off into the dark. Still alive. I hadn’t killed it.

“You’re angry,” I said.

“No.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” His eyes were cold.

“Nothing,” I said.

He picked up a bundle of dry wood that had been propped against the boulder. I watched as he struck two rocks together, lighting a small fire, using the wood as kindling. I turned away. Let him simmer. I wasn’t there to puppeteer the fauna.

“We will rest here for a few hours.” Warden didn’t look at me. “You need sleep before the next part of your test.”

“Does that mean I passed this half?”

“Of course you passed. You possessed the butterfly. That was all I asked of you.” He watched the flames. “No more.”

He opened a knapsack and spread out a simple black sleeping bag. “Here,” he said. “There is something I must do. You will be safe here for a while.”

“Are you going back to the city?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t have much choice but to comply, though I didn’t like the thought of sleeping out here—not with this many spirits in the air. There were more of them now, and it was getting colder. I stripped off my wet boots and socks, put them out to dry beside the flames, and zipped myself into the sleeping bag. It wasn’t warm, even with my jacket and gilet, but it was better than nothing.

Warden tapped his fingers on his knee, staring into the darkness. His eyes were two live coals, alert for danger. I turned over and looked up at the moon. How dark the world looked. How dark, and how cold.

17

The Will

“Hurry up, Pip. Come on.”

My cousin Finn pulled harder on my arm. I was six years old and we were in the congested heart of Dublin, surrounded by shouting people. “Finn, I can’t keep up,” I said, but he ignored me. It was the first time ever that my cousin hadn’t listened to me.

We were supposed to be at the cinema that day: a crisp February morning in 2046, when the winter sun spilled white gold on the Liffey. I was staying with Aunt Sandra for the midterm break. She’d told Finn to look after me while she was at work, seeing as he had no classes. I’d wanted to see a film and have lunch in Temple Bar, but Finn said we had to do something else: see the Molly Malone statue. It was important, he said. Too important to miss. A very special day. “We’re going to make history, Pip,” he’d said, squeezing my small, mitten-bound hand.

I’d wrinkled my nose a bit when he told me. History was for school. I loved Finn—he was tall and funny and clever, and he bought me sweets when he had spare change—but I’d seen Molly hundreds of times. I knew all the words of her song by heart, too.

Everyone was singing it as we approached the statue. I looked up at all the red-faced people, half-scared and half-excited. Finn was shouting the song with them and I joined in, even though I didn’t understand why we were all singing. Maybe it was a street party.

I held Finn’s hand as he talked to his friends from Trinity College. They all wore green and waved big signs. I could read enough to work out most of the words, but there was one I didn’t know:
SCION
. It was all over the signs. They flashed past me, high in the air, Irish and English mixed together.
DOWN WITH MAYFIELD
!
É
IRE
GO BRÁCH
!
DUBLIN SAYS NO
! I tugged Finn’s sleeve.

“Finn, what’s happening?”

“Nothing, Paige, be quiet for a minute—
SCION OUT
!
SCION DOWN
!
SCION OUT OF DUBLIN TOWN
!”

We were near the statue now, jostled by the crowd. I’d always liked Molly. I thought she had a kind face. But she looked different today. Someone had pulled a bag over her head and a rope around her neck. Tears jerked into my eyes.

“Finn, I don’t like it.”

“
SCION OUT
!
SCION DOWN
!
SCION OUT OF DUBLIN TOWN
!”

“I want to go home.”

Finn’s girlfriend frowned down at me. Kay. I’d always liked her. She had beautiful hair, a dark auburn that shone like copper and curled like springs, and her arms were pale and freckled. Finn had given her a claddagh ring, which she wore with the heart pointing toward her body. She was dressed all in black, and her cheeks were painted green and white and orange.

“Finn, this could get violent,” she said. “Shouldn’t you take her home?” When he didn’t reply, she hit him. “Finn!”