The Nightmare Charade (27 page)

Destroy her!
The sword shouted in my mind. It gave up its attempt to be free from the glamour
.
But it didn't need to be free for me to use the spells it offered. It would be so easy. So satisfying.

No.
This time the thought was firm in my mind, and a moment later I felt the fight go out of the sword entirely as it surrendered to my will.

Bollinger watched me with an annoyed expression. “What are you waiting for? Get on with it.”

Wiping sweat from my brow, I walked past her over to Eli. Trembles of anger still slid through my body, but there was triumph there, too. I'd come so close to giving up control to Bellanax, but I hadn't. Deverell would be proud when he heard.

You should consider yourself lucky,
I thought, glancing back at Bollinger. And that, too, made me feel better, a strange, new sort of power—the power not to act.

Clinging to this victory, I climbed onto Eli and descended into his dreams.

 

19

Proceed with Caution

We were on the barge again. And this time it wasn't deserted. My dead body was once more lying on the ouroboros bed, but it didn't disturb me quite as much as before. Maybe because of the comfortable weight of Bellanax around my wrist, the sure knowledge that it could hand me spells at will. Nothing could hurt me with the sword around.

Still, I could tell it bothered Eli. I watched as he bent toward my body, his eyes drawn and face shadowed. He studied my corpse as if trying to read some clue of how I died there. I stared, too, ignoring the creep factor. But in seconds, I felt certain we weren't going to learn anything by just looking.

Mustering my courage, I leaned forward, took hold of the burial shroud covering my chest, and pulled it back all the way. Beneath, I was wearing a white gown of a design from a long-gone era, circa the age of King Arthur and my great-great grandmother Nimue. A swath of red as bright as paint stained the gown on the left side of the chest.

Right over the heart.
My breath caught in my throat and a wrench went through my rib cage like a phantom pain of the same injury I was seeing below. With my heart starting to pound in my ears, I reached out and tentatively pulled down the collar of the gown, just enough to reveal the open, weeping puncture wound. It was easily the width of three fingers and looked deep enough to have gone all the way through to the other side. Not that I was about to flip the body over to make certain.

Beside me, I heard Eli make a choking noise. I glanced at him and realized it wasn't a sound of revulsion but of despair.

“Cover it up,” Eli said, turning away.

I obeyed, as eager to hide it as he was and wishing I hadn't looked in the first place. Absently twisting the silver band on my wrist, I stepped nearer to Eli.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Even though I spoke softly, my words echoed in the cavernous space.

Eli faced me, his gaze hooded. A muscle in his jaw moved in and out. “I've been better.” He raised his hands to his temple and pressed for a second. “Seeing you dead or hurting or anything other than happy is really starting to get old.”

“I know,” I said. I was tired of both seeing myself in his dreams and of seeing him unhappy in my own dreams. The attack was relentless and perpetually cruel. “But the best thing we can do is get this solved. The sooner we find the Death's Heart, the sooner these dreams will stop. I'm sure of it.”

Eli's jaw worked back and forth. “Are you?”

I flinched, his doubt a physical blow. “Of course I am. Aren't you? Please tell me you're not starting to buy into all of this.” I motioned behind us toward the ouroboros bed. “It's all just symbols, Eli. Nothing means what it appears to on the surface. And we already know my mother is in danger. This is just more of that.” My voice broke, tears threatening to make an appearance. Yet again today, I'd been told I couldn't see her.

He didn't reply, and I felt my heart tumble from my chest into my stomach. I couldn't take the idea that he might change his mind about us. Not now, with everything going on. I needed things to be right between us, the possibility of the curse far, far away.

Finally, he drew a breath and said, “I've seen this before. You lying just like that, with just that wound.” He pointed to the corpse lying between us. “I've seen it in my own dreams, and I've seen it in—” He broke off at a strange noise. It was a loud moan of wood bending, the sound a tree makes when its bough breaks in the wind.

Eli and I both headed toward it, stepping out from the curtained platform and onto the prow of the ship. The source of the noise became apparent at once. The masthead, which before had been carved into a dragon not much different from the ouroboros bed, was now the likeness of a giant bird. It had the head and neck of a heron, but with the crest of a harpy eagle, two tufts like feathered horns. The bird's wooden fa
ç
ade was beginning to crack and splinter like an eggshell. Real feathers as black as wet ink appeared beneath. Slowly, loudly the masthead was coming to life.

It was becoming the black phoenix—Marrow's familiar.

Eli and I could only watch, horrorstruck and frozen in place. As before there was nowhere to go in the dream but out of it. Not unless we wanted to try our luck with the dark water surrounding the boat, filled with its unknown water creatures.

The cracking and splintering wood continued on until the entire bird was revealed, including the red plumage of its tail. The black phoenix, now free and here and alive, arched its head and spread its wings, the gesture a stretch of pleasure.

Its sharp, hooked beak opened and it let out a shriek. The sound pierced my eardrums, and it was all I could do to cover my ears with my hands. But it was an invasive sound, crawling inside me somehow, making my insides writhe like worms. I felt my body start to crumple, my torso bending toward my knees as if the sound was a down force as well, like gravity.

I fought to keep my head up and my eyes on the black phoenix. It turned toward Eli and me, its red eyes boring into mine with sentient recognition.

Fear seemed to rip me asunder, my heart a quaking, quivering thing in my chest. I was paralyzed with it, unable to think or move, unable to do anything but stare, transfixed by its gaze.

I was barely aware of Eli beside me, his body trembling with the same fear that held me in its grip. But then he reached out and grabbed me by the arm.

Pain seared through my body, and the dream world melted into non-reality as I felt my consciousness being hurled out of it. I rejoined my body with an agonizing jolt, landing so hard I started to tumble sideways. Eli's arms rose up around me, creating a buffer.

He pulled me to him, holding me in place on top of him. “I'm sorry,” he said, panting. “But it was the fastest way out.”

“You mean the most painful,” I said, groaning. At the moment it felt like every nerve ending in my body had been dosed in acid.

“I'm sorry, Dusty.” Eli hugged me to him again and then began to run his hands up and down my back. Slowly the pain of being evicted from his dream gave way to pleasant tingles.

I pushed myself up a little, enough to glance behind me at Bollinger. She was asleep in her chair. I turned back to Eli, disbelieving our luck. “You're awake this time,” I whispered.

Eli glanced at Bollinger, too, and lowered his voice. “I know. Maybe your painful exit broke the sleeping spell.” He paused. “That or fear. I can't believe we saw the black phoenix.”

“Me, either.” The last time we'd seen it in a dream, it had cut my arm with one of its claws. I still bore the scar.

Worry about the significance of the black phoenix's presence in Eli's dream threatened to distract me, but with an effort I forced it away. The dream, the threat, Marrow, everything else could wait.

I glanced over my shoulder again, making sure of Bollinger's position. She was facing away from us, and deeply asleep judging by the fictus coming off her. I turned back to Eli. For all intents and purposes we were truly, officially alone, unwatched and undeterred, so long as we stayed quiet. I wanted to make the most of this moment, no matter how selfish it might be, no matter that I had to steal it away from more important things.

I inhaled then leaned forward, letting a slow easy smile stretch across my lips. “Did you notice that we've come into some unexpected privacy?”

Eli nodded, a grin forming at the edges of his mouth. It was all the encouragement I needed. Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips to his. My skin heated, an avalanche of tingles spreading over my face. Eli's lips parted and his tongue met mine, sweet and soft and inviting.

His hands moved to my waist and began to climb up my back beneath my shirt. His warm fingers left trails of fire over my skin. My head began to swim with sensation, my thoughts nonsensical like a fever dream. Eli pushed himself into a sitting position, and I shifted down to straddle his lap now. We moved slowly, quietly, afraid of waking Bollinger no matter how heavy a sleeper she seemed to be. His hands left my back and cupped my face, our kiss deepening. I placed my hands on his shoulders, taut muscles flexing beneath my fingers.

Things were escalating quickly. We were like a train with no brakes, headed downhill with a drunken conductor at the controls. Fear and thrill met inside me, blending into a singular feeling: want.

I tried to convey this to Eli through silent communication, kiss and touch, anything but words. I even thought it at him, employing telepathy and empathy both. For a stretch of blissful, soaring moments, I sensed Eli's answer, a resounding yes, more echo than consent.

But then he began to pull back from me, withdrawing both his body and his mind.

“We can't do this, Dusty,” he whispered.

I nodded, remembering Bollinger. “Do you want to go in there?” I motioned toward the sleeping quarters.

Eli shook his head.

“Right, Lance.” I bit my lip. “I could use a sleeping spell on Bollinger. I know how to do it now.” It was true. I could sense Bellanax coiled and ready to guide me. Eager for it.

“How?” Eli said, his arms tensing around me.

I ran my hand down his cheek. “Same as before. I'm learning how to communicate better with the sword.”

Eli's expression darkened. “No, I don't want you to use a spell on her. I don't like that sword teaching you things. There's something not right about it.”

“Why?” I cocked my head. “My sword is a numen vessel just like your wand. That means there's a living spirit in it, one with thoughts and a personality.”

Eli glanced at the leather band on his wrist, his glamoured wand. “But my wand never speaks to me. It's just there, just magic for me to use.”

“Maybe it's a difference in the type of vessel or something.”

“Or in the spirit it houses,” Eli said.

I sighed, caressing his face once more. “There's nothing to worry about from my sword. I promise.” I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “So how about it? She won't even know afterward, and we'll be free to do whatever we want without worry of someone finding out.”

“No,” Eli said at once. “Not here, not now.”

His words felt like a slap, the sharp, certain sting of rejection. I forced my eyes to his, afraid of what I would see there. “Why?”

His expression softened, and he cupped my face again, running a thumb over my bottom lip, swollen from his kisses. “Because this isn't right. It's not how it should be with us.”

“What do you mean?” I felt my heart folding in on itself, disappointment a compressive force.

Eli released his hold on my face and reached for my hands instead, squeezing my fingers. “We're dream-seers, Dusty. That's a bond for life. No matter what happens to us in our everyday lives, we'll always be connected by this power. It's an awesome thing, but scary. We gotta make sure we don't screw up by going too fast.”

I inhaled, my quivering heart solidifying to awe. No matter how much my body may hate the idea of taking things slow, it did make sense. Reckless wasn't the right approach to forever.

“Okay,” I said. “I see your point.” But I leaned forward and kissed him again. One last time, while we still could.

Eli seemed to agree, and his hands slid around my waist, pulling me closer.

The dorm room door slammed open hard. Bollinger jerked awake, and fell out of the chair with a muffled thump. Eli and I wrenched our faces apart, but it was too late to hide the position of our bodies from the people now crowding into the room.

There were two Will Guards—of course, who else?—but also Lady Elaine. The look she cast us was one of mingled fury and fear. I gulped and started to disengage myself from Eli, climbing out of his lap.

Lady Elaine swooped down on us. “Have you seen her? Heard from her?”

I stumbled to a standing position. “Who? What are you talking about?”

Lady Elaine grabbed me by the shoulders. “Your mother! Has she texted you, called, anything in the last few hours?”

“What?” I was too stunned to free myself from her grip. “No, of course not. Not for days.”

Tears glistened in Lady Elaine's eyes. “Are you sure you're not covering for her? Please, Dusty, tell me the truth.”

Fear electrified my skin. “No, I'm not covering, I swear. What's happened?”

“Your mother…” Lady Elaine swallowed. “She's gone missing. Just like Bethany Grey.”

 

20

Three Visions

Lady Elaine turned away from me and sat down on the nearest chair, sagging into it like a warrior in defeat. Her large purse, bright pink and covered in sunflowers, slid off her frail arm and landed beside her. The sight of her reaction scared me more than the news about my mother.

“I'd hoped you were covering for her,” Lady Elaine said, dropping her forehead onto her hand. “It's why I came here instead of calling, but I can tell you're not lying.” She looked up, her expression scornful as she took in Eli and me. “No, not lying. You two were clearly too busy with your own indulgences for that.”