The Nightmare Affair

by Mindee Arnett

  People are capable of anything, I heard Paul say. I glanced at him now, standing a few feet from the tomb and watching me with anxious eyes, waiting for me to play the hero and save the day. But I couldn’t do it. Not me. Not against her.

  In the end, it was the gruesome sight of Bethany’s severed finger that swayed me. Here was physical proof of the lengths my mother would go to. Gritting my teeth, I climbed into the tomb and positioned my body around Nimue’s legs. Then I glanced at my friends, watching me from below.

  “Go get help,” I said. I wanted to say something brave, like Don’t worry or I’ll be fine, but lying didn’t seem like a good idea at the moment. I closed my eyes, pressed my hands against Nimue’s leg, and entered the dream.

  It was unlike any I’d been in before. The scene was as solid and realistic as any of Eli’s, but everything was washed out, like a photograph faded over time. I was standing in the middle of a vast field of tall grass. The stalks around me were wilted as if from a rainless summer under a hot sun. They brushed against my legs and arms, stirred by a faint breeze. I winced as welts rose on my skin where they touched me despite my clothes. I tried to jump up and fly above the grass, but something held me in place.

  Yes, this was definitely unlike any dream I’d been in before. No bending the laws of physics, it seemed. I wasn’t a god in here. I was just me. A teenage girl as scared and helpless as a rat in a maze.

  Go back, Dusty, a voice whispered in my mind. Don’t do this. You’re too weak. The worst part was I knew I could go back. Slipping out would be as easy as taking a breath. All my instincts were screaming at me to leave.

  Ignoring the urge, I stayed put and looked around, wondering what to do next. There was no sign of Nimue. The sword could be anywhere. As far as I knew this dream world could go on forever, as endless as outer space.

  A few feet in front of me, I saw a patch of crumpled grass and guessed it was the place where my mother had arrived. A clear trail extended out from it, heading toward the sun sinking behind a forest in the distance. Bracing myself for pain, I leaped toward the crumpled grass. Now instead of leaving welts, the stalks sliced into me like razors. I screamed, then immediately wished I hadn’t as something else screamed back in answer. Something not human.

  A flock of birds alighted into the sky from the forest and soared toward me. The screams became screeches as they drew closer. Only they weren’t birds, but bats. Ones with fat-cheeked human faces like babies. I wanted to run away as I saw their needle-like teeth, but fear of the grass held me in place. I ducked, covering my head with my arms as the bats swooped down at me. Claws clutched at my clothes and yanked my hair. I swatted at them blindly, knocking one aside only to have another sink its teeth into my hand. Pain lit up my arm, making me woozy.

  Desperate, I tried to think of some way out of this. The easiest thing would be to leave the dream completely. But what would I tell my friends if I came back without even trying? No, I had to think, had to fight.

  I couldn’t bend reality here like in a normal dream, no imagining a giant paddle to swat them with, but I didn’t know about using magic. Magic was my reality. Quickly deciding that fire was the best weapon, I grabbed a handful of the tall grass and yanked it out, ignoring the sting as it sliced my hand. Then I muttered the fire incantation, feeling no hope that it would work.

  The tips of the grass burst into flames. I didn’t question it, but stood up and started waving my makeshift torch in the air. The bats shrieked away from the fire, only to swerve and try again. Over and over they came down at me, but I drove them off, feeling a perverse pleasure whenever one of them let out a shriek as the fire singed them.

  When the last of the bats gave up, I watched them disappear into the sky. I threw what remained of the grass to the ground, shaky with exhaustion. The fire spell had drained my energy. There was something wrong with the fictus in this dream. As if there weren’t any here at all.

  At least I wasn’t as afraid as before. Surviving a bat attack had a way of bolstering bravery. I took off at a slow jog, following my mother’s path through the grass. I couldn’t imagine how much it must’ve hurt her to come through here first, but I appreciated how much easier she’d made it for me.

  After a while, I entered the forest filled with trees the width of houses. My fear began to grow again with every step as I heard the sound of things moving through the brush and rustling the branches overhead, but after walking for what felt like an hour nothing attacked me.

  When I came around a bend in the trail, I realized why. A dead animal that looked like a combination of a wolf and a scorpion was lying across the path. I carefully stepped around it, making sure not to disturb the brush for fear of alerting other beasts to my presence the way I had the bats. I passed another half dozen of those dead wolf things with their curved tails like a scorpion’s stinger and pincers on their front feet instead of paws and was again thoroughly glad my mother had come in before me.

  Eventually, the path began to slope downward, and I caught glimpses of water through the massive trees. Distracted, I didn’t notice when the trail abruptly ended in a drop-off to a rocky beach below. I slid over the side, yelping in surprise and renewed pain as dirt coated the cuts on my legs and arms.

  I stood up, brushed myself off, and approached the water’s edge. The lake was small enough that I could see the shore on the other side, but the water in between was murky and eerily still. I knew I had to go in that water. It was the only way to go other than out of the dream or back up the bank into the forest. The idea of jumping in filled me with terror. Anything could be in there. Slimy, slithering things that might grab hold of me and pull me down.

  If that happens, just leave. But after my run-in with the black phoenix, I knew better than to trust in an exit.

  A scuttling sound echoed in the woods above me, and I dove in. I had no idea how to kill one of those wolf-scorpion things, and I wasn’t keen on figuring it out. The water was so cold I almost fainted from the shock, but the sight of dark shapes moving toward me was all it took to drive off the dizziness. I dove downward toward a faint light in the distance. The dark shapes swooped closer, and I swam harder and faster, wishing I could transform into a fish.

  When I reached the source of the light, I saw it was some kind of dome on the bottom of the lake. My mother stood just inside it, dripping wet but no longer submerged. In the center of the dome, a sword stuck up hilt first out of the lake bed. The sword was the light source. Even from outside the dome, I could see the magic pulsating from it.

  I swam to the dome’s edge, passing through it as if it were made of air instead of something solid enough to hold back water. I plopped to the ground with a wet thud, startling my mother who turned around, poised to strike. Shock, then anger crossed her face at the sight of me.

  “What are you doing? Where’s Bethany?”

  I wiped water off my face. “We set her free.”

  “You did what?” Her eyes flashed.

  I pushed myself up to my feet. “I can’t let you do this, Mom.”

  I realized how unprepared I was for this moment. Sadness and pity squeezed my chest, and I held back a sob. Until now I’d always been secretly proud of my mother, of her fierce independence, her reputation as being someone unafraid to do her own thing no matter what people thought. But not anymore. Now I saw a desperate, power-hungry woman. A murderer.

  “The sword must be destroyed,” Moira said.

  I took a step forward. “No. I won’t let you.”

  “I don’t have time for this right now.” She turned toward the sword once more.

  I raised my hand and pointed. “Hypno-soma.”

  Nothing happened.

  My mother turned back, outrage on her face. “What the hell?”

  I tried again. Still nothing.

  My mother cast her own dazing curse to the same effect. It wasn’t like how The Will absorbed magic, but as if there weren’t any magic at all, like we were in some kind of magic-free zone. M
om and I came to the same conclusion at the same time, and we both sprinted for the sword. She reached it first, but I crashed into her, knocking her to the ground.

  My mother was more experienced at fighting than me, but she wasn’t stronger or faster. Neither of us played by any rules. We pulled hair and bit and kicked and scratched. I saw a nasty-looking wound on Moira’s side that looked as if something had taken a bite out of her, probably one of those wolf-scorpion things. I tried my hardest to grab hold of it.

  She caught onto this strategy at once, and before I knew it she managed to get behind me, pin her arms around my neck, and cut off my ability to breathe. I clawed at her, but she wouldn’t budge.

  “Stop fighting me, Destiny,” Moira said. “You’ve got to trust me. I’m your mother. I don’t want to hurt you, but the sword has to be destroyed.”

  Panic was a living thing inside me, a demon that had possessed me, making me thrash and kick.

  Through my hazy vision, I saw something approach the dome. My mother’s grip loosened as she saw it, too, and I was able to take a full breath. Then we both gaped in surprise as Bethany Grey emerged from the water beyond.

  Moira whispered in my ear with a note of panic in her voice, “You’ve got to help me, Destiny. Beth’s the villain here, not me.”

  I bit back my automatic denial of this lie and nodded. Bethany had been looking intently at me, sending me a silent message—she was here to help. Together we could overcome.

  Moira let go of me, not once disbelieving my nod of agreement. As soon as I was free, I turned on her, Bethany jumping to help me. Mom was no match for the two of us, and when we finally managed to pin her down, Bethany was heavy enough to keep her there.

  “Get the sword. I’ll hold her until you’re out,” Bethany said.

  I fought back guilt at the sight of my mother struggling to break free. “Don’t hurt her,” I said.

  Bethany bobbed her head, her face pinched with effort.

  I approached the sword cautiously, both afraid and mesmerized by it. The hilt looked made of bone, and strange rune marks ran down the blade. I wrapped my hands around the hilt, and raw energy shot through me so hard it almost knocked me over. But I held on and yanked upward.

  Resistance. Something held the sword in place. I squatted down and pulled with everything I had. Finally, slowly, the sword began to move. When it at last came free of its earthen sheath, I saw why it had been so difficult to remove. A woman was clawing her way out of the lake bed from the place where the sword had been, like a zombie emerging from a grave.

  Only she wasn’t some monster, but Nimue, her face ageless and familiar. Our gazes locked on each other, and I could sense her appraisal. A moment later she nodded, and the last of the resistance on the sword vanished.

  “Go,” Nimue whispered.

  I shut my eyes, but I had no idea how to bring the sword out of the dream. I’d only done such a thing once before with the Milky Way, but that had been unintentional. Still, there was nothing else to do but try. Holding the sword tightly, I imagined myself bringing it out.

  Nothing happened. I couldn’t leave the dream at all, sword or no. I looked around, fighting back alarm.

  “You must take it beyond the dome,” Nimue said, and her voice was like a soothing balm on my nerves. “But don’t let him have it. Never let him have it.”

  I watched her slowly sinking back into the lake bed. Then casting one last glance at Bethany and my mother, I dashed for the dome’s edge and plunged through it into the cold, dark water. It seemed all the creatures out there were waiting for me, unspeakable things with red eyes and forked tongues. I closed my eyes and tried again, willing myself and the sword out of the dream.

  For a terrible moment, nothing happened. The creatures closed in. Something hard and scaly brushed against my leg. Then with a jolt, my consciousness rejoined my body. I opened my eyes and saw the sword was still in my hands.

  I stood up, my limbs trembling both from the terror of Nimue’s dream and grief over my mother, but also from joy at my victory.

  Something was wrong.

  Eli and Selene were lying on the floor a few feet away from the tomb in the same position as we’d found Bethany, wrists and ankles bound with silver rope. They were gagged as well with more silver rope. Paul stood over them.

  My brain couldn’t make sense of it. “What are you doing?”

  Paul looked at me, but before he could answer a familiar voice spoke from my left. “Anything I ask him to. Anything at all.”

  I jerked my head in the direction of the voice and saw Mr. Marrow standing there, looking at the sword in my hand with something more than curiosity. He walked over, a broad smile on his face. “Well done, Dusty. You’ve far exceeded my expectations. Now, hand over my sword.”

  His sword? I blinked at him.

  Then I remembered what Bethany had said about how the Red Warlock could be anybody. Was it possible? Could it have been Marrow all along?

  That was when I noticed it. There, perched on the end of the tomb and staring at me with the same look of satisfaction as its master, was the real black phoenix. It was even more fierce and terrible than it had been in Eli’s dreams.

  24

  The Red Warlock

  “But that means you’re … you’re…” I couldn’t say it out loud. The words wouldn’t come.

  “Merlin is the name you’re looking for, I believe. Although it’s the wrong name,” said Marrow.

  “But it can’t be you.”

  “Oh, but it is. I warned you, didn’t I? That the killer was clever enough to use you without you knowing it.”

  I gritted my teeth. “You didn’t use me.”

  A sneer twisted Marrow’s features. “Are you so sure? I’m the one who told your mother what the Keeper spell was guarding. I’m the one who planted in her mind the idea of telling you as a way to scare you off. But I knew your reaction would be just the opposite. A rebellious nature is so easily predictable.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t, as a sickening feeling rose up in the pit of my stomach. Beside me, the black phoenix crooned, as if to mock me.

  “I needed you to know about the sword, you see,” Marrow continued. “You’re the dream-seer. I needed you to find the location of this tomb for me. You’ve done well. I’m grateful. Now give me my sword.”

  I shook my head, but it was pointless. Marrow raised his wizard’s staff toward me, free of its cane glamour, and with one casual flick, he ripped the sword from my hands. He heaved a sigh as he grasped the hilt. The look on his face was like someone welcoming home a lover. He dropped his cane, seized the sword with both hands, and waved it over his head in a circle. A shower of magic rained out from the tip and sprayed downward around him, obscuring him from sight for a moment.

  When the magic cleared, he no longer wore his usual suit but a crimson cloak over a pair of loose-fitting black pants and undershirt. His face was changed as well. He looked younger, his skin less careworn and wrinkled. Yet he was older, too, ageless like Nimue. It seemed his transformation was complete. The teacher I’d known was gone, an ancient, evil wizard in his place. For there was no denying he was evil. He’d murdered those people. It took all the courage I possessed not to run away screaming.

  “Is it done then?” asked Paul. He sounded both relieved and anxious. I looked at him, my chest seizing from a literal heartache. I couldn’t believe he was involved. It seemed impossible. He’d even tried to stop us from coming this way. Why?

  Marrow turned his gaze to Paul, eyes assessing. “See for yourself.” With a flick of the sword, he sent his staff flying across the room into Paul’s outstretched hands. “Give it a try on the girl.”

  Before I knew what Marrow meant, Paul turned toward Selene, pointed the staff, and said, “Ana-acro.”

  Selene’s body rose into the air, hoisted by the silver rope around her wrists. She shrieked in pain, limbs straining. I gaped at Paul’s sudden ability to do magic.

  Jumping
off the tomb, I shouted the counter-spell. The magic surged out from my fingers, but Marrow deflected it with a spell from the sword. No, not deflected. He absorbed it into the sword like The Will always did.

  Whoever controls the sword, controls The Will, my mom had said. The Will didn’t work on Nightmares, yet the sword did. I couldn’t understand it.

  “There’s no point in trying to attack,” Marrow said. “Your spell casting has certainly improved, but it’s no match for me. And I wouldn’t try running away, either. Phoenixes fly very fast, you know.” The bird crooned as if in emphasis, the sound as beautiful and deadly as it had been in the dream.

  Paul lowered a now-whimpering Selene back to the ground, breaking the spell. Beside her, Eli looked fit to kill.

  I stared at Paul, the truth clawing at my insides. “You’re the F from Rosemary’s diary, aren’t you? It was never Culpepper.”

  He nodded. “Paul Foster Kirkwood. I’ve no idea why Rose fixated on my middle name, but it did its job in hiding my identity.”

  “How could you?”

  He flinched before his expression hardened. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be so powerless. To be hated by your own family. Your own mother.”

  “But you killed them. Rosemary and Mr. Ankil.”

  “I didn’t … kill … only … helped.”

  “Why?” I choked on the emotions raging through me at his betrayal. He’d used me as he had Rosemary. None of the things we’d shared had been real.

  “Leave him be,” Marrow said. “Paul did what he had to do to be free.”

  I glowered at Marrow. “Free from what?”

  “It was only The Will preventing him from using magic. But the spell, at least as you knew it, is no more, due in no small amount to Paul. This sword has the ability to absorb magic and to hold it like a reservoir, making it possible for The Will to work on magickind. But the spell wasn’t intended for them. I created it as a weapon against the ordinaries who persecuted us. A thousand years ago magickind were far fewer in number and most of us lived in isolation, easily overpowered by the sheer number of ordinaries. The spell gave me control over the mind and will of mankind, forcing them into submission where they belonged. Where they would be now if the Magi had never stolen the sword and spell from me.”