“Try again.”
I hesitated, knowing I was on shaky ground, and not just because she was my mother. No, I understood that if I asked what I wanted to, what I needed to, I might do irreparable damage to our relationship. I wasn’t entirely sure I was cool with that. True, it wasn’t much of a relationship, but she was still my mother.
Who may be a killer.
“What were you doing with Mr. Culpepper?” I said, stalling, although I wanted to know the answer to this, too.
Mom raised her hand and began examining her fingernails. “Not your concern, and also not pertinent to why you’re here so early.”
“All right, I want to know what you’re doing for the senate.”
She dropped her hands, casting me a snide look. “And that’s why you were hiding in my closet? I don’t think so. Stop avoiding the subject, Destiny. I’m wise to your little ‘ask a lot of questions to avoid the truth’ game.”
I glared at her, not appreciating her smug attitude that she knew me so well. Truth was she didn’t know me at all. Two weeks a summer and the occasional phone call or e-mail didn’t cut it. Not by a long shot. “I want to know what you were doing at the dance.”
Moira sighed, angrily. “What’s this sudden obsession with my activities? You’ve never cared before.”
I never cared? Give me a break. “Fine. You want the truth? My sudden obsession is that you’re the reason I was down in the tunnels when Mr. Ankil was killed. I was following you. So you either had to have seen something or done something. And I know what you can do, how The Will doesn’t matter to people like us.”
Her nostrils flared. “Just what are you insinuating?”
“Oh, come off it, Mom. I know the truth about Nightmares.”
A flush spread up Moira’s neck, but she didn’t respond, merely stood there, staring at me as if I were some new and ghastly species of bug. One she’d like to squish under the sole of her high-heeled, black leather boots.
The lunch bell rang. The realization that we weren’t going to be alone for much longer spurred me onward. I had to know the truth. “Did you do it, Mom?”
Her gaze turned fiery. “I can’t believe you would ask me that. What kind of a daughter are you?”
Her words hurt, cutting me in deep, sensitive places. Tears flooded my eyes. All the emotions I’d been bottling up for the last few days exploded outward. “Me? Me? What kind of mother are you? You’re no mother at all, that’s what. You left me and Dad when I was just a baby. You didn’t care about me, not when I was a plain old human. When you thought I was just your mule offspring from a marriage you’d rather forget. Oh, no, you didn’t care about me until I got magic. So don’t you dare criticize me as a daughter when you’ve been such a crappy mother.”
By the time I finished my tirade, I was panting. I hadn’t gotten this worked up over my mother’s exit from my life in years. I’d long since learned to ignore the resentment, the hurt like a canker sore around my heart. But I couldn’t ignore it right now, staring her in the face.
Moira’s eyes remained fixed on mine, her expression masked. If she’d been moved by my outburst, it didn’t show. Her lack of response bothered me even more, especially considering the torrential downpour on my face. Someone so cold was capable of anything.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Say something.”
“Fine. How’s this?” she said through gritted teeth. “You only think you followed me down into that tunnel, Destiny. And even if it was me, that’s hardly reason enough to believe me capable of murder.”
I threw up my hands. “Oh, yeah? I’ve got more reasons than that. Even the senate thinks you can’t be trusted.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“You don’t believe me?” I yanked open my backpack and pulled out the envelope with the consul’s e-mail. “Take a look at this.”
My mother snatched the envelope from my hand, ripped out the paper inside, and read the e-mail. Then she looked at me, her expression darkening. “Where did you get this?”
Uh-oh. Stupid, stupid me. I paled at my blunder. “It’s a secret. And it doesn’t matter, anyway.”
Moira pursed her lips.
People were starting to file into the room, and I quickly wiped away my tears with my shirtsleeve. Unfortunately, there was no hiding the telltale puffiness in my cheeks.
“I want that back,” I said.
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s mine.”
Mom shook her head, and from the stubborn look on her face I knew it was no good, not unless I wanted to fight her for it. Somehow, I didn’t think tackling my mother/teacher would go over very well. Not to mention the total mortification I’d face when I lost.
“I suggest you don’t push me about it,” she said in a steely voice. “Not considering how violent you believe me to be. Now go sit down. And don’t you dare speak to me again.”
I swallowed, unsure if I felt guilty or relieved. I also wasn’t sure if she meant don’t speak to her again today or ever. In the end, I decided I didn’t care.
20
The Tomb
By Friday, I understood my mom meant what she’d said about never speaking to her again. She hadn’t even looked at me during any of my psionics classes. I told myself it didn’t bother me, although it was tough not being able to ask questions. Especially when I came to accept that she was a pretty good teacher. There wasn’t much point in raising my hand, though. Not when the person with the power to acknowledge it was pretending I didn’t exist. I’d gone from a bug to a nonentity.
Worst of all, I still didn’t know if she was innocent or not. She never actually said that she hadn’t been in the tunnel. She might’ve blown a lid at my accusation, but I couldn’t tell if it was righteous anger, guilt, or just plain good acting.
Then there was the exchange with Culpepper. I showed up early to class twice more, hoping to rummage through her purse again, but she stopped leaving her stuff unattended. The next step would be to search her home, but I didn’t know if she’d moved into one of the faculty town houses on campus now that she was a teacher or if she was still in her apartment on Waterfront Lane. It was rather depressing not knowing where my mother was living, but given the current state of our relationship, not that surprising, either.
I meant to ask Paul what he thought about my mother’s behavior, but every time I saw him or spoke to him on the phone, we ended up talking about other things—things that made me feel all tingly inside and more than a little eager for our next date.
I wanted to confide in Selene, but I was afraid of her reaction. What if she told me to go to the sheriff? I definitely wasn’t ready to take my suspicions about my mother that far without solid proof.
It was my mother I was thinking about when I left the dorm room at midnight on Friday, headed for Eli’s. I opened the door, stepped out, and collided with someone that shouldn’t have been there. I shrieked and leaped backward.
“You’re late,” the someone said in a familiar voice.
I let out a huge exhale as I recognized Bethany Grey. “Um, okay. And you care because…?”
She grimaced. “Heaven help me, you are so much like your mother. We’re finally going to begin our dream training session tonight. I would’ve preferred to have done this much sooner, but seeing how you skipped the last few sessions…”
“It’s not my fault I was sick.” Conveniently, I silently added. In truth, I blew off the first one because it seemed like a waste of time after all I’d learned from my mother. And the second had been scheduled a couple days after I found out the truth about Nightmares from Mr. Marrow, and I didn’t think I could face the possibility of learning any more unpleasant facts. “And I’m nothing like my mom, thank you very much.”
Bethany huffed then turned on one thick, bulky heel of her Dr. Martens boots and headed down the hallway toward the exit. I followed after her. She wore all black clothes like me and had her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her resemblance
to a gorilla was more striking than ever in that getup.
“How come I didn’t know we were doing this tonight?” I asked as we descended the stairs into the tunnels.
“Last-minute decision. Lady Elaine had some concerns over the apparent lack of progress in your dream journals.”
“Like she’s got any business complaining about lack of progress,” I muttered, although I suspected the truth was that Lady Elaine sprung it on me so I couldn’t ditch again.
Bethany marched along, ignoring me.
As usual, Eli was still awake when we arrived. To my horror, Lance was up, too.
“Well, here she comes,” Lance said when I came through the door. “Quick, Eli, better run and hide before she curses us.”
“Leave her alone,” said Eli.
“I quite agree,” added Bethany, following me in.
Both boys startled at the sudden appearance of this strange, oversized woman in their dorm room.
“What are you doing here?” Lance said with his mouth hung open like a hooked fish. His fingers, which had been twirling a joker card, stilled mid-flip.
Bethany fixed a glare on him. “Not your concern, Mr. Rathbone.”
“But … you’re Bethany Grey, right?”
She gave him a mock bow. “So glad to know you’ve heard of me.”
Lance gulped. “Yeah, you work for Consul Vanholt. Sort of his personal … something or other.”
“Yes, that’s right, but no time to dwell on specifics. Off to bed with you.” Bethany shooed at Lance like a dog, and to my surprise, he obeyed, disappearing into the bedroom without a word.
Now it was me looking like the hooked fish. I’d never known Lance to be obedient to anybody. I stared at Bethany, feeling more curious about her than I ever had before. “What exactly do you do for the consul?”
She waved the question off and turned to Eli. “On to the sofa, young man, and hurry up.” She snapped her fingers. “We don’t have all night.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you here?”
I stifled a groan at Eli’s antagonistic attitude and jumped in between him and Bethany. “It’s okay,” I said, thumping his shoulder. “She’s a Nightmare, too. She’s going to teach me some things, so we’re both going to enter your dream.”
Eli frowned, eyeing the woman who stood nearly as tall as he did, which was saying something. “You’re not actually going to sit on me, are you?”
I hid a giggle even though I sympathized with his worry. Bethany would crush him.
She scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. A Nightmare doesn’t have to sit on your chest to enter your dream. That is merely the most effective position for creating a strong connection between dreamer and Nightmare. But only a single touch is necessary for entry. There are even some Nightmares powerful enough to enter your dreams from a distance.”
“There are?” I said.
Bethany glanced at me, frowning. “Didn’t you know?”
I shook my head.
“Not surprised. I’m sure Moira failed to teach you anything useful.”
“You’re probably right.” Seemed there were a few things Bethany could teach me after all.
“Humph,” Bethany said, although she sounded mollified.
Eli sat on the sofa, and we waited for him to fall asleep. Then Bethany and I moved into position on either side of him and entered the dream.
I was in the tunnels again and had to fight back panic. I managed it, but only because there wasn’t any sign of somebody on fire. Actually, there wasn’t any sign of anybody period, not even Eli.
I took off at a run, trying to find him. The tunnel curved around then ended at the threshold of a vast underground chamber. Lit torches hung at intervals around its circumference. The purple haze of the flames told me it was Everlasting Fire, created by a difficult spell that few magickind could perform.
In the center of the chamber, Eli stood next to what looked like a raised altar with a long, rectangular box set on top of it that seemed to be made of some pale crystal. Facets of it twinkled in the light of the purple flames.
Eli spotted me and shouted from across the room, “What is this place?”
“No idea,” I hollered back.
Bethany emerged from the tunnel next to me and the two of us headed into the chamber.
“You’ve never been here before?” I asked Eli when I reached the raised altar.
“Nope.” He was staring fixedly at the box, which was indeed made from some kind of crystal.
I stared, too, taking in the engravings on its side like the kind you might find on a tomb. Then it clicked. It was a tomb. I could just make out the form of a body inside it.
I put my hand on the side of it, surprised to find the surface warm. My gaze focused on the engravings, which depicted some ancient, magickind battle. The people carried wands and staffs along with swords, shields, and bows. I’d seen such images before in my history textbook, but none of them came close to capturing the visceral detail here.
Although the figures were posed in different combative postures, they were all bent toward the middle like two armies converging on a battlefield. The three figures in the center were larger and more intricate than the others, two men and a woman. One of the men lay on the ground, clutching at the sword sticking out of his chest. The other stood with his back to the woman who was covering his eyes with her hands. The man looked like he was in the process of falling down. The woman’s expression was impossible to see clearly on the crystal surface, but I thought there was something both sad and victorious about her posture.
My gaze drifted up from the woman’s face to the sky, where a huge bird hovered over the people’s heads, wings outstretched. Like hearing the opening notes of a familiar song on the radio, recognition hummed inside me at the sight of it.
“Eli,” I said, pointing. “Do you see what I see?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s the black phoenix.”
“How can you tell?” said Bethany, approaching the tomb for a closer look.
“Because we’ve seen it.” A humorless smile curled one side of Eli’s lips. “A lot.”
I scrutinized Bethany’s face, trying to read her expression. “Do you know what it is? Or who it is?”
Bethany met my eyes. “Nobody’s told you?”
I flipped my hair back behind my shoulder. “Well, no, but we haven’t exactly asked.”
“Hmmm, I suppose if the senate wanted you to know, someone would’ve told you before now.”
“Oh, that’s great.” Eli waved his hands through the air. “Because leaving the people with the ability to stop these murders clueless about everything makes so much sense.”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” said Bethany. “The subject is restricted.”
I motioned to the vast chamber. “I’m pretty sure nobody can hear us inside a dream.”
“You’re mistaken.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously? Somebody can spy on us here?”
“Only another Nightmare, but yes. They can even influence the dream if they’re powerful enough. But don’t worry, your mother isn’t.”
I frowned, uncertain if she was being honest or just spiteful. “If my mom can’t listen in then there’s no problem with you telling us the truth. I mean, there’s no risk of being overheard since you and I are the only other Nightmares around.”
“Besides,” added Eli. “We already know what the killer is after, so what’s the harm in learning the truth about the phoenix?”
A smug expression rose on Bethany’s face. “You couldn’t possibly know what the killer is after.”
“Wanna bet?” said Eli, equally smug. “It’s the power source for The Will spell. Excalibur.”
Bethany looked like she’d just swallowed something sour. “Who told you? Was it Moira?” She turned her glare on me.
“Um, yes,” I said, taking a gamble with the truth.
“So she told you about the sword and not the identity of the black
phoenix? How typical.”
“I know, right? I mean, I’m sure she had her reasons, but I’m equally sure they’re in her best interest and not the senate’s.”
Bethany nodded, vigorously. I stifled a smile, pleased that my mother’s bad reputation was working in my favor for once.
Bethany took a step closer to the tomb and traced a finger over the phoenix’s outline. I shivered, remembering the eerie, hypnotic sound of the bird’s cry.
“Only one black phoenix has ever existed,” Bethany said. “The familiar of the greatest and most feared magickind ever to be. A wizard who has been called by many names throughout history. His last title was the Red Warlock. But in ordinary folklore, he’s known as Merlin.”
Eli chuckled. “Merlin? Are you kidding me?”
“What’s so funny?” asked Bethany.
“It’s just hard to take the idea seriously when you’ve grown up seeing Merlin as this crazy old wizard who’s always tripping over his beard in cartoons. Hard to picture that guy having a familiar as fierce as the black phoenix we’ve seen.”
I sympathized with Eli’s point, but it was no different than the Tinkerbell version of fairies. If Merlin had been so great and fearsome, then the Magi would’ve softened his image on purpose to make people forget how dangerous the real man had been.
Only the “had been” wasn’t right, if I understood the implications of what Bethany said. I asked, “But if the Red Warlock has a phoenix for a familiar does that mean he’s immortal?”
“Yes,” said Bethany. “Through his bond with the bird, he has died and been reborn many times. Some say his existence predates the ancient Egyptians.”
“Oh-kay.” I paused, trying to digest the information. “So in other words, the Red Warlock, Merlin, could still be alive today even though the Arthur legend is like a thousand years old.”
Bethany wagged a finger at me. “Not could be alive. There’s never been any doubt he lives. What has been in doubt is whether or not he’s currently awake and wandering around Arkwell’s campus.”
I blinked. “What do you mean awake?”
Bethany grimaced. “Don’t you know the story ordinaries tell about what happened to Merlin?”
The Nightmare Affair Page 20