The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1) (5 page)

"Where is
that?" I asked, pointing at the blurry stretch of yellow desert
that lined the top of the page. It was almost as if it hovered on
another level, like a step up in the sky. Glancing up at Cirrus, I
caught a shadow falling across his face. It was only fleeting.

"That is the
Wilds . . . it's undomesticated and unexplored." With a determined
shake of his head, he pulled the atlas out from under my hands and
snapped it shut. "We won't be going there.

"But I've never
liked ‘simple'," he continued swiftly. "I much prefer things that
twist and I just can't pass up a chance to make it a little more
interesting."

Much prefer
things that twist
. . . ? I didn't like how that sounded and
the glint in his eye just fed my paranoia.

"I have the
ability to bring your uncle back. His human soul, that is. His
connection to the world he created would be severed. But if you win
you get both the throne and the knowledge that your useless uncle
wakes up on the floor after a particularly dangerous night on the
needle."

"He's not
useless," I whispered.

"Well, he is to
me." Cirrus put his hands together as if to consider how to phrase
his next sentence. "If I win, however, I get your throne and
something further." Cirrus stood up smoothly and walked to a grand
window on the far wall. He pushed back the velvet curtains and
gestured me closer.

"Look out
there," Cirrus told me as I approached the window. "It's dark out,
I know, but try to see." I leaned forward slightly and looked hard
into the night. I saw the dim outlines of trees and bushes, but
little else.

"I see trees,"
I replied. Cirrus shook his head and gently pulled me closer to the
glass. His fingers lingered on my arm, but he didn't seem to
notice. His eyes were glued to the blackness outside.

"Look harder,"
he whispered. "Let your eyes get used to the dark."

I leaned again
towards the glass and relaxed so that my eyes became familiar with
the night-time. I could see the blades of grass growing near the
bases of the trees and what looked like fireflies flittering around
the low bushes. It was all very beautiful with no neon lights or
discarded paper bags. My breath misted up on the dark glass like a
winter cloud.

But suddenly,
my heart jumped and I stepped back from the window as a thin shadow
crawled across the ground out of the brush. It sniffed the air and
yawned, emitting a low hiss. I snapped my head to the man standing
beside me, and his eyes were already on mine. He nodded slowly and
motioned back to the window.

The creature,
whatever the hell it was, slinked back off into the forest as
another one crawled down from a branch. Its long arms dragged along
the ground behind it and the claws from its hand dug into the earth
to pull up rocks and clumps of foliage. They were only a few yards
away from the window.

"Can they get
in?" I heard myself saying. Cirrus shook his head. I searched
higher above the trees and lower to the ground, realizing that the
whole area was practically seething with shadows. And as we
watched, the beginnings of purple smoke crept through the tree line
and along the forest floor.

"What are
they?" I asked.

"My dreams,"
Cirrus replied. He let the velvet curtain fall back against the
window and stepped back. "My sleep is plagued with monsters; they
follow me whenever I am grounded. It has become so easy to float
this house away that I have spent very little time not in the
air."

I remembered
the purple cloud. The barren wasteland and the vicious, billowing
violet haze that flew above it. Cirrus must have guessed my train
of thought.

"He was a
merciful Painter, I'll give your uncle that. He gave me an escape
of sorts. A coward's escape, but beggars can't be choosers. I don't
have his gift." His face momentarily clouded over with discomfort.
"Unlike your uncle I cannot paint these creatures away. Those
shadows that you saw outside didn't just appear. Your uncle painted
his nightmares to get rid of them. I constructed them from material
to do the same."

"You mean you
made those things deliberately?" I asked in disbelief. Cirrus shot
me a patient look and I gulped.

"Come now,
Maggie. Do I look like a man who makes mistakes?" His eyes turned
from green to gray as he watched me. "They've earned a name around
Palet: my ‘experiments,' although they're nothing of the kind." He
paused. "They are present in waking and present in sleep. They
don't go away."

"The
monsters?"

"My dreams,"
Cirrus murmured. "No matter how many monsters I create with my
fingers, these nightmares are still in my head." Cirrus took off
his spectacles to wipe his eyes. His hands shook noticeably and I
instinctively moved closer. His distress was compelling and I
couldn't help myself. He was like an angel caught under the back
wheel of a truck. "I am so tired, Maggie," he sighed. "They won't
let me sleep. No matter how hard I try to chase them away, they're
still there. They're still in my world, they're still in my head,
and I can't get rid of them!" His fist slammed down on top of the
desk with a giant bang, frightening my heart into my throat. Cirrus
lowered his head into his arms as a tentative knock sounded on the
door. "I'm sorry . . ."

"Cirrus?
Maggie, is everything ok in there?" Marty asked hesitantly from the
hallway.

"She can take
care of herself, Martin," Cirrus said loudly from between his
fingers. And it was as if those words sprung him suddenly into
action. He seized the contract and the pen from the desk and held
it out to me expectantly.

"Sign the
paper, Maggie," Cirrus said, his voice breaking slightly into a
plea. "I need to sleep again."

"How can I help
you sleep?!"

"As I was with
your uncle, I can be with you," Cirrus said. "Your protector, your
guardian . . ."

My eyes
narrowed defensively. "You were never my uncle's guardian."

"Of course I
was. Who do you think made sure his dreams never ate him alive?"
Cirrus responded quickly. "Make no mistake, unless he put that
poison into his veins, I protected him. His sleep was cool and
calm. And now I can protect you."

"I really doubt
that –"

"Don't fool
yourself, Maggie. Someday you'll be like your uncle: lonely and
unappreciated, pent up alone because no one understands your
creativity, or dreams, or whatever you might possess," he snarled.
"But I can be in your mind the way I was in your uncle's mind. And
in the darkness of your sleep, I can escape from those monsters
outside. I can find
peace
."

"But what if I
say no?" I insisted, my voice climbing in volume. "What if I say
that you can have my uncle and have my throne and go straight to
hell?!"

This brought
Cirrus up straight. His sharp face was temporarily confused and I
let the shocked silence settle in heavily.

God, I need
another drink.

But he regained
his composure quickly, too quickly for me to think of anything
smart to continue on with. His forehead smoothed and he calmly
placed his glasses back on his face. But the jaw was set. And his
eyes were fierce.

"I am already
in hell. I would rather die than live in this nightmare of waking."
Cirrus said calmly. "Call it selfish, but I'm past caring. And if
this world has no one to rule, it will collapse into anarchy. And
my monsters will feast."

"I want to
leave now," I said quietly. "You're obviously upset."

"Am I scaring
you? Maggie, you should never be scared of me." Cirrus was suddenly
the definition of composure as he walked gracefully back to the
fire. "I am only trying to be fair. Enter the Reign Walk and save
your uncle and lead your people. Lose and I will shape this nation
into a new world. With you." Cirrus's eyes locked onto mine and I
found I couldn't move. I stood frozen as his gaze bore into every
crevice of my body. "Let me share your soul, Maggie," Cirrus said
softly, "and I'll let your uncle's go."

In those eyes,
shifting back to green, I saw that he was deadly, madly serious.
And despite the madness, I knew it was one of those moments where
you can't conceivably believe it, but you have to move forward.
Because you don't know where you came from anymore and couldn't go
back if you tried.

"I don't have a
choice," I said finally.

"Of course you
do, but you're a smart girl." Cirrus smiled and pulled out his
pocket watch. "It doesn't work, you know. But it's my symbol." He
clicked it open to the watch face and tapped the glass softly. "Eye
on the prize, sweetheart."

I walked slowly
to the desk and picked up the necklace. It was cool and weighed
hardly anything at all as I lowered it slowly over my neck. It
rested lightly on my chest above the white neckline of my tank top.
My symbol.

Cirrus's shadow
fell over the table as he settled behind me. "A dreamcatcher. I
take it the irony isn't lost on someone as clever as you." He
rested his hand lightly on mine when I placed the pen back on the
desk. "For the first time in my life, I feel a certain sense of
relief," his low voice spoke in my ear.

My heart
pounded like a drum. His hand wrapped gently around my waist to
rest on my right hip bone.

"The Walk
begins when you touch ground. And ends when that necklace is around
my neck or my watch is in your hot hands. Or we both burn." He
kissed me softly behind my ear. "We could be so strong, you and I.
Together, we could be the storm that shakes the sea."

His hand pushed
against my bone, a pressure of possession. But I wasn't his
yet.

"Good luck,
Maggie."

He moved
suddenly away from me and if it wasn't for the table's support my
legs might have melted down into the rug. I didn't dare turn
around. I listened to him walk across the room and heard the door
open and shut. Even without looking back behind my shoulder, I knew
that the room was empty.

As if to mark
the moment, a flare of heat spread across the skin of my chest
where the golden circle of the dreamcatcher rested. It was the
first toll of the clock; the hoisting of the sails. And with it
came a rush of feelings: nerves, terror . . . want. I shook my head
at that one. I would have to be crazy to let any of his poetry
affect me. But as the heat faded away it left behind it awareness.
There was a connection between us now and I I couldn't deny that
was exciting.

I walked back
into the front room where Marty waited. The soft jazz was still
piping serenely out of the ceiling. Cirrus wasn't anywhere to be
seen but the secretary took one look at the necklace and squeaked.
That must have been incredibly embarrassing because she turned
fire-engine red and put her face so deep in the appointment book
that only her hair bun showed over the top of the counter.

Marty gave me a
knowing look, his eyes drawing themselves down to the necklace
hanging around my neck. "Game on, then?"

"Yeah. Game
on," I sighed. Marty gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"The news will
be going out through Palet right now. They'll be watching for
you."

"Great."

"Did he say
anything about . . . a deadline?" Marty grimaced at his awkward way
of questioning if I had an expiration date.

"Six days. And
then the necklace will . . . burn into my soul. Or something like
that."

"Yeah . . . it
will." Marty sighed and looked awkward. "But don't worry, I'm sure
you'll claim his symbol before that happens. And in the meantime,
make friends. Gain followers. That's a good tactic." Before I could
ask him how he expected me to do that, Marty was moving efficiently
onwards. "Look, I need to sign some papers before we leave. And
then it's up to me to leave you on the ground. Will you be ok for a
minute?"

I nodded and
watched him walk over to Cindy. I felt a bit faint. Looking around
for a chair, I saw that the front door was open a crack. Marty was
flipping through the papers with the pen cap in his mouth, trying
to make Cindy giggle. Her bun sunk lower into the book. So he
didn't notice when I walked towards the front door and pulled it
open to the front porch.

My vision
swirled with purple mist. Nothing howled or screamed and I didn't
see any of the grounds that I had seen out of Cirrus's window. All
I could see was a light violet haze that clouded anything beyond
into indiscernible shapes. The ground beneath me, however, seemed
solid as I took a step onto the front stairs.

The mist
tingled on my face and a cloud spread itself across my mind.

"I'll just . .
. wait outside for you, alright?" my voice said. Marty was
muttering to himself as Cindy pointed out yet another red X. I
turned down towards the steps again and put another foot out the
door. My brain seemed to think it an enormous task to put one in
front of the other. I tried shaking my head to lift the pressure
from my temples, but the mist whispered into my ears and my eyelids
fluttered.

Marty handed
the completed papers back with a frown and looked over to where he
thought I still stood. When I wasn't there he looked curiously
around and saw the front door standing open. The mist was already
beginning to snake itself into the room to curl around the edge of
the front mat.

"Oh, motherfu
–" Marty gasped and ran towards the opening to look out. He could
just make out my indistinct shape near the end of the steps.

"Maggie! Don't
move!" He yelled. My body wavered as a faint sound murmured on the
edge of my hearing. "Don't take another step! We're in the
air!"

I heard it
again – a faint, muffled voice – and stopped my descent. The mist
sighed louder into my ears and urged me forward. I took another
step down towards the bottom.