We can’t even see the ship, much less coordinate some kind of counterattack.
But I felt the way her magic drew from the forest, saw the way its light flew to her hand without dimming the whole. I have an idea.
I dig my nails into the anchor-knot and let all of the panic and fear and horror and rage boil up and out in a wordless plea. There’s a wavering too-full moment where it seems like the forest’s bridge linking Aleya on the coast with the otherspace of the dreamscape will blow apart, but it bears the sudden load. Aleya rocks on her heels as a tunnel of force blows through the rain and the waves, pushing the storm aside in a narrow channel.
I barely manage to clamp down in time, denting the now half-submerged ship’s side but not piercing it. Tentacles flail at the sudden jolt, making the ship groan.
But it doesn’t slip free.
I’m beyond communicating, lost in the vast web of power. Aleya doesn’t wait for instruction. She sights and shoots between one heartbeat and the next. The compressed dart of liquid light disappears into the tangle of coiling arms and sends them whipping free with an ear-splitting screech.
“Don’t stop,” she says, cold and quiet, her voice reaching me on a separate wavelength from the injured monster. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop until I say so. They’re not clear yet.”
But already my grip is slipping, vision flickering with exhaustion. The forest’s strength is endless, but mine isn’t. Raindrops splatter through the space I can’t quite keep clear, the wind battering it, warping it enough that Aleya’s next shot slaps harmlessly into the waves.
Tentacles reach, taking fresh hold of the ship. More than half of it is below the surface now and dipping further with each wave.
It’s too distant to make out the features of those clinging to the exposed deck, the ones torn away too blurred to identify. All I know is Ash is somewhere out there, and his friends with him. The only people in all the world who I could have hoped to receive help from.
And there is nothing I can do but watch as the sea closes over their heads.
In the moment before I lose my grip on the forest’s power entirely, it’s clear the ship is gone. There is nothing left but a single, massive tentacle curling against a scorching flash of lightning. The storm crashes down once more.
Aleya leans into the nearest tree, both hands clawed into the trunk, clinging to the forest’s bridge as desperately on her end as I do from mine. She doesn’t have to say a word. I know that look. That horror. That despair.
The wind slaps loose strands of her ink-dark hair against her wet face, gusts of rain narrowing the entire world to the cold emptiness of this desolate shore, concealing the wild, heartless sea.
And then we’re no longer alone.
Eyes in the waves, and teeth. A darkness reaching, uncoiling across silt and stone to the edge of the trees, splintering trunks and flattening brush beneath a weight never meant for the crushing gravity of land.
Aleya meets my eyes wordlessly. Then she lets go of the tree.
The bridge unravels, the waking world slipping through my fingers no matter how I clutch at the forest’s gift, both of us cut off from that deep well of power. I drop to my knees, gasping amidst the revoltingly cheerful meadow of the dreamscape, warping it to an ashen wasteland before I hit the mud.
Maybe she let go to free both hands to fight. That must’ve been it. I was just reading into that final look.
She didn’t send me away out of pity. Out of anger. Out of grief. She turned to fight, not to spare me the sight of one more death. She did. She’s like Ange, I know it—she wouldn’t give up. Aleya. Min.
I fix my gaze on the mud, refusing to look up, to check the horizon for one more ghost. Or for a dozen.
Min—and Ash. Aleya and Ghost, and the others, besides. Who did he say he was taking? Not Steph . . . of course not Grace, Grace is safe for a little longer. Was it the wiry, hyper boy I’d met so briefly in Nine Peaks, or the huge one? Hatif, that was the redhead, the other dreamweaver. He was on the ship, right? And—and . . . who was the last?
Two to a bike means four? Was it six or four in the end? Maybe four (four dead), four dreamwalkers, one on the shore and three in the waves, in the (four dead) only three, and I never met—I don’t—Aleya and Ghost (is Ash? Ash is dead? Ash is—)
Stop it.
Stop. Focus. Say their names. Aleya and Ghost. Ghost and Hatif. Hatif and Banshee—oh no, oh, Grace, no, it’s—Stop.
Breathe.
Grace is safe, it’s just Banshee and Ghost, and Banshee is (four dead), her sister is . . . and the boy, the other boy, that’s Rei—was it Rei? Was Rei there too or just—oh, Hatif, and now Aleya, Min-called-Aleya, who could have been a friend, and now—
I can’t. I can’t even remember all their names, never mind their faces, and now they’re dead (four dead and a ship’s crew besides) and I can’t look up and I can’t—
And in another place, Cadence’s eyes open on a bright, clean room. She doesn’t know Ash is—her friends are . . .
I have to tell her. I have to. Don’t I? Does it matter? Will it even change anything?
Will it change everything?
Chapter 9: Heartbreak
Grief is in the mind. I can order the tears to dry and the shaking to stop. I can stand tall and spin serenity around me with no more than a thought, at least in this place where thought is all and creates all.
But grief is also in the body—even an imaginary one. The shuddering, gulping loss still drags broken nails across the inside of me, scratching and plucking and rasping an endless refrain of all that has been ripped away.
But even the relentless intensity of grief grows dull after a time. It backs into a corner and lets the mind slowly start to churn once more.
I can’t wait that long—I have to push with all my might to make the space to think. And what I think is this: Ash isn’t coming back.
It’s a while before I can scrape together enough space for the next thought.
It’s some time after that that I’m able to get back to work. But if Ash isn’t coming back, he is definitely not bringing an army. There’s no one on the other side of the barrier to send help. And while some part of me would like to curl up in the dreamscape and let the world burn, it’s mostly the same part that I’ve backed into a tight corner and walled up deep inside my mind to keep Victoire company, so that’s fine.
In fact, everything (not everything, never again) is fine (four dead) because Ghost (not Ash, please not Ash, not—) just gave me what I needed (four dead, four is only the beginning . . .)
One death for many, isn’t that the devil’s bargain? Maryam’s bargain—and Ravel’s?
I did not choose this sacrifice. It’s not my fault.
But perhaps it is mine to use. One death for many. The one death that matters. The one death that will reach Cadence, that will change everything.
One death to save the world.
In the end, I don’t even have to say it. She knows as soon as I shoulder between the ghosts, oh so careful not to look at their faces. As soon as I break through to the waking world, she knows.
“You’re lying.” Her face crumples. “You’re lying.”
“I didn’t want this. You know I didn’t.”
Cadence’s fists ball around the sheets, trembling as if she’s a heartbeat away from throwing the covers over her head and turning her back on it all. “It’s not real. You’re making it all up.”
So I show her, letting her, for the first time, inside a memory only I hold instead of the other way around. Knowing what’s coming doesn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, my dread colours each moment, weighing down the sky, darkening the sea, sharpening the rain.
“You’re lying,” she whispers, hopelessly, when it’s all over.
“My imagination isn’t that good.”
She lets out a shuddering breath, curling into herself. “You couldn’t even remember their names.”
“They were your friends,
not mine.”
It is a cruel thing to say. I didn’t mean to be cruel.
“Banshee. Hatif. Maybe Rei or Qareen if it was six after all. If Mogwai and Dybbuk stayed behind, that leaves Qareen. And Rei is”—she lets out a harsh laugh that ends in a sob—“Rei’s the pretty one, the little hyperactive one.”
“Aleya, Banshee, Qareen, Rei, Hatif and—and Ghost.” I say it out loud for her, and for me, to silence the shrieking voice and those broken nails walled into one corner of my mind. Four—or six. “Aleya. Banshee. Qareen. Rei. Hatif. Ghost. I’ll remember.”
She nods, scrubbing the back of her hand across her face. “Min, and Jess—Jessica, really, I’m pretty sure. And Orisa, and Ajay. And Liam. And—and—”
“Ash.”
Her lips wobble and her nostrils flare. She ducks her head to hide a fresh wave of tears. “And Ash.”
“Min. Jessica. Orisa. Ajay. Liam . . . Ash.” (Four dead, or is it six dead, oh—) But we don’t even have time left for grieving properly because—
“What’s wrong, sleepyhead?” Maryam sweeps into the room and perches on the bed, pressing Cadence’s chin up with sharp nails.
Cadence slaps her away. “Leave me alone.”
Those mesmerizing golden eyes narrow. The mayor’s knuckles ripple once, talons tapping against her breast and stilling almost immediately. “I can see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Hormones, dear? I could solve that for you if you like.”
“Out.”
The shriek makes Maryam jump.
“Just a suggestion. It’s up to you, of course.” She pats Cadence’s knee under the blanket, a quick, hard tap. She’s up and away before Cadence can lash out. “Take the morning off. Get some more rest. Save your energy for our work later.”
Cadence tumbles out of bed to slam the door after her, leaning into it long after it’s latched as if bracing against attack.
“She didn’t sound like she was planning to return,” I say carefully. “We have a little time.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Cadence’s voice is muffled, hair tangled and stuck to the damp mess of her face.
I’m too numb to feel sorry for her. Or for myself, for that matter. And this is too important to wait. “Tough. It’s time to grow up and deal with reality. Mom and dad are dead. Now Ash is too. And instead of fighting the literal monsters out there killing people, you’ve been collaborating with the enemy to unleash the worst of the bunch on the world. You want to be the one in charge? Fine. I never really wanted the job anyway, or that stupid body. It’s yours. Enjoy. I don’t care about the magic, either. Keep it. Just stop using it for Maryam.”
Cadence blinks, red-rimmed eyes startled. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Furious,” I say tonelessly. “Incandescent with rage. But not for stealing my life. For all I know, it really was yours in the first place. Want to avenge our parents? Cool. Do that. But stop living in the past and do it right.”
She draws a deep breath as if to protest. I hurry on before she can get a word in.
“Killing that possessed monstrosity of a barrier was a bad idea when we were a kid. It’s only gotten worse in the meantime. If you need a goal, maybe try taking down the Mara? You know, like we were going to do all along? If that’s not enough for you, I wouldn’t be averse to cutting Maryam off at the knees either.”
She giggles. It’s so unexpected I lose my train of thought, which only makes her laugh harder.
Then, as if the memory crashes down on her at the same moment it does me, she chokes on a sob and slides to the floor. “He’s really gone? They all are?”
“I think so.” I don’t see how they could have survived those waves, even if they weren’t infested with sea monsters.
She nods, drawing her knees in and resting her cheek on them. “Okay. That is—It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that simple—”
She snorts. “Whatever, stupid. I get it, okay? You can back off now. I’ll handle things from here.”
“. . . Just like that?”
She gets to her feet, holding onto the wall as if the floor is likely to slide out from under her. “What did you expect, fireworks?”
Well, yeah. Or something. “If you’re not working with Maryam, it’s no longer safe to stay here. What do you think about Sam and Lily’s old place, for now? Just until we figure something better out.”
“Nope.” Cadence wanders into her closet.
“I know going outside is risky, but it’s also harder for Maryam’s enforcers to track you down out there. It’s not like she’ll just shrug and find something else to do when she finds out you’ve left.”
“I’m not leaving.” Dressed, if haphazardly, Cadence heads down the hallway—and passes the turnoff for the elevators.
“It’s not safe. Maryam’s not likely to take no for an answer. If you won’t help her, she’ll do whatever she can to make you. And it might not be the best idea to explore the limits of her capacity to make you suffer, you know?”
Cadence strolls into the audience chamber and steps over the grovelling toady of the hour to get to her throne. “No one’s making me do anything, thanks.”
Maryam graces her with a brilliant smile and keeps it in place until the room has cleared. “Feeling better, dear? Anything I can help with?”
Cadence scowls. “The other’s being more of a pest than usual today. And I’m bored—I don’t see why you want me to sit in on these idiotic meetings. They’re all the same: blah blah, under-resourced, staffing shortages, rising vacancies. Blah. They whine and beg. You smile. I yawn. They leave.”
“You of all people should know information is power, child.” Maryam stretches. “But I’ll admit it does grow tiring after the first few decades.”
Cadence rolls her eyes.
Maryam laughs. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d rather be doing?”
Cadence raises a scarred hand, waggling her fingers. The barrier-burned pattern ripples on her skin.
Maryam’s smile stretches a little wider. “If you’re feeling up to it, I don’t see why not.”
Chapter 10: Frozen
It’s a desperate gamble, but when has Cadence ever wanted to do things the easy way?
I’m afraid to ask what she has in mind for Maryam and the enforcers tasked with clearing their path. But I have to admit there is a certain genius to luring them so far away from the mayor’s sumptuous apartments. No one’s going to come looking for them all the way down here, not for a good long while. And every hour Cadence can manage free from pursuit is precious.
Cadence walks a step behind Maryam, a bland expression fixed on her face. The guards range ahead. I peer past to get a better look at whomever it is they’re so careful to send scuttling. Are there more people lurking down here than before? Where have they been hiding? And, most important of all: who are they?
There are three main possibilities. Now Ravel is gone, I have to assume Freedom is no longer operating and, with the nightly revels shut down, his people would either have returned to the mundane business of masquerading as obedient drones up in Refuge or, if they burned that bridge, sought out shelter in the surrounding maze of abandoned service corridors and concrete-block storage rooms, transit tunnels, and other forgotten corners.
But there’s also Ange’s network of survivors from the deep tunnels. Ravel managed to help some across the barrier to safety. More were slaughtered by the Mara in those final hours before Cadence betrayed us. I’m pretty sure more than a few of those who remain are imprisoned in Refuge’s retraining dormitories right now, but the numbers still don’t add up.
Which brings me to the third possibility: that some of the survivors from outside of Refuge and the underground warren it presides over have given up trying to cling to life on the streets, especially with enforcers on the hunt, and have migrated down here. The Mara haunt these upper levels, but they rarely venture much farther below the waterline, after all.
I don’t think
anyone’s ever really monitored the total human population in this city of nightmares. Maryam would know the count for Refuge, of course, and presumably, Ange must have had a sense of how many people she protected, but outside—who knows? A few dozen families? A few hundred? It’s hard to imagine more, given the impossibilities of scrounging sufficient supplies from the crumbling buildings or growing much worth eating amidst the toxic fumes.
But without losing track of Cadence and whatever she’s scheming, it’s hard for me to properly investigate all the nooks and crannies down here. With no one left to meet up with in the dreamscape (four dead, Ash, oh please, no)—with no reason to spend my nights in that place, maybe I can try to get a more accurate count. Without Ash, (four dead) there is no real chance of saving them. But even so.
Although, once Cadence gets away from Maryam, I guess I’ll be busy keeping an eye on her while she sleeps and sounding the alarm if anyone gets too close.
Cadence frowns. “Creep. Don’t watch me when I sleep.”
Maryam glances over her shoulder in question. “The other one giving you trouble again, child?”
“Nothing but,” Cadence says. “She just doesn’t know when to quit.”
“Nice.” I gather my awareness in and focus on the few dozen or so feet between Maryam and her perimeter of enforcers. “Keep up the act. Do you want to, I don’t know, work out some kind of signal for when you’re ready? Or I can update you on the guards’ locations as we go? The room they just cleared is pretty big, and the corridor beyond kind of runs sideways along it for a bit. At the next turn, I think they’ll be far enough to have a hard time hearing anything, if you’re ready. I’ll say when they turn the corner, and then you can knock her out or whatever—Okay, now!”
Cadence snorts and keeps marching along behind Maryam without breaking stride.
“No problem, there’ll be other chances. I mean, we’re getting a little close, but I’ll keep you posted. There’s another bend ahead. And if you want to send a signal without Maryam knowing, just, um . . . scratch your ear, okay?”
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