by HD Smith
I looked at the copy of Omar’s book I held. It wasn’t old, but there was no way it had been produced in the last few months since my conversation with James. Had he or the seer known of these prophecies beforehand? The experience had felt more organic than that. Noticing the blank line, I considered the possibility the book was spelled to add new entries, which sounded just as crazy as them being known prophecies.
I closed my eyes and slipped outside my body. I looked at the book with my presence. A single bar, much like a cursor in a Word document, waited after the colon on the seventeenth line. A faint gold halo pulsed as if ready for someone to begin typing. The six entries before it, those tied to my reading last spring, were dark black, as if they’d just been printed. The previous entries were all lighter shades. The first entry on the list was so pale it was nearly gray, as if the black had faded with time.
Opening my eyes, I looked at the list again. With my normal sight I saw the entries as crisp black letters. I guess a self-updating book on prophecies wasn’t so farfetched after all.
This list had to be what Merryman wanted me to see. Did he know I had Jayne’s blood? Or had his seer abilities allowed him to see me reading the book, and he knew I’d be able to unlock its secrets? I’d have to ask him.
Reviewing the six newer prophecies, I considered what they might mean. I noticed right away that they referenced the girl, but when James translated he’d said “you” or “your”, not the girl. Eleven said: TYRANNY - The girl’s existence will bring about tyranny like no one has experienced in thousands of years. I’d not thought of these in months, but now when I look at them, knowing more about the fourth realm and the augury Mab spoke of, I had to consider if these were connected. Was this a reference to Jayne’s betrayal? I wasn’t an expert on the history of the realms, but if some of the details I’d read in Omar’s book were correct, there hadn’t been a major incident since the myth of the destruction of the fourth realm, which was thousands of years ago.
I read prophecy twelve. DIVIDED – The girl will cause a great divide among the realms. Was this a future state or something that had already occurred? I was fairly sure The Boss and Mab hadn’t been all family united before they’d fought over me; after all, Mab killed my mother—The Boss’s true love—but was that enough to cause a “great divide”?
Prophecies sucked. Understanding them was like trying to read tea leaves.
Thirteen: SONS – The girl will cause sons to fight their father and win. Was this a reference to what the quads had done last spring? They’d more or less defied their father and killed Junior—their half-brother and The Boss’s oldest hellspawn at the time. But I don’t see how the girl—me—caused that. They’d been after Junior before I discovered anything. I’d been framed for Junior’s murder, and had to figure out who really did it. The quest led me to Purgatory, where I time traveled—like that should even be possible—to three days prior. There, Junior wasn’t dead yet, but nothing I did had stopped it from happening. Was that how I’d caused the fight? If so, the “win” was most likely Junior’s death, although since The Boss handed the quads over to Mab afterward, I’m not sure there really was a win in anyone’s column.
I laughed at fourteen. CHAOS – The girl will cause Chaos. No mystery with that one. Sort of self-fulfilling if you asked me.
World Killer was the next one, but James had never used that term. The girl will unleash the great destroyer, it read. He’d said that, of course. I guess great destroyer wasn’t a good enough title. WORLD KILLER—now that title turns heads. I rolled my eyes. I still couldn’t believe I was somehow tied to these prognostications. I could only assume this one was earmarked as a future accomplishment. Lovely. Something to look forward to.
Sixteen was another obvious prediction—One will betray and one will die. The clear-cut meaning would be Junior died and Quaid betrayed The Boss—at least that was what Mab and the quads thought. But Quaid hadn’t betrayed the Devil, so either this one didn’t apply to that situation, or there was another betrayer. Prophecies were so vague.
I scanned over the list again. The one tied to The Harbinger was most likely the prophecy Mab had spoken of to Mace, but the wording wasn’t the same:
3: THE HARBINGER – A human veil will cloak the fallen queen. A truth discovered will restore all time. Light or dark can wake the beast.
“Light or dark can wake the beast?” What was that supposed to mean?
Human veil could refer to the human birth stipulation of Mab’s version. Truth discovered could be something to do with seeing the truth. Ugh. Prophecies could only be understood in hindsight, true, but why was the wording so different with this one? At least the version Mab had spoken last spring was detailed:
A great mystic of the fourth realm foretold of a harbinger—a girl—who would set right what was lost by the Ancients. She would be of human birth, otherworldly lineage, and possess the blood of the Fallen. She would have the power to see the truth and would restore time within all the realms.
Why the difference? Of course, I knew very little about the other prophecies—they could all be like this. I scanned the list again. With the exception of the six translated by James from the seer, the harbinger entry I attributed to the augury Mab mentioned, and the first two, which must refer to Jayne’s death and the fallen realm’s destruction, nothing looked familiar.
My eyes crossed as I scanned the titles. Banishment, Fated Mates, Twin’s Curse, Lover’s Curse, The Time Queen—I stopped there.
5: THE TIME QUEEN – Blood on the Time Queen’s hands will doom the beast, and end the quest.
Was this the same beast mentioned in the harbinger prophecy? There was really no way to know. I continued, then stopped again—The Horseman, number four.
4: THE HORSEMAN – When the fourth is known, one will prevail. War will force destruction or perish by the Fallen’s hand.
I remembered the painting the dark haired girl had shown me. The image of the red horse morphed to the white horse that was run through with the sword. If I were to interpret the red horse as war, did that mean the painting was predicting war would prevail?
“If war prevails,” I murmured, looking down at number six: THE REVENANT – If war prevails, the torque of time changes hands, or the sacrificed child isn’t saved, The Revenant will be reborn. What the hell did that mean?
I slammed the book shut, and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was getting a headache. I needed to speak to Merryman. I’d followed his directions and read the book, although I wasn’t sure I’d actually learned anything. Banishing those thoughts, I curled up in the chair and closed my eyes to sleep. The dream had to let me in again.
Chapter 5
The man standing in front of me wasn’t real. I was in the dream again, the one where Jack was a crazy phantom haunting me.
“I love you,” I said, before he could warn me about Death, “but you have to go now. I’ve got to figure this place out and leave. I can’t stay and you can’t follow me.”
I wiped away a tear before it could fall. This had to be the last time. It was over and he—I—had to move on.
“Please,” I begged, as if it were a prayer. He blew me a kiss and disappeared. A weight on my heart lifted; I felt like I could breathe again for the first time in weeks.
I scanned the museum.
“Merryman,” I called, but all I heard were little girl voices laughing.
A painting on the far wall drew my attention. As I approached I saw the depiction of the red horseman scene. The dark-haired girl stood there as the images switched from red to white to red again, as if she were watching a movie. Her dark locks were braided in two perfect pigtails, each held together by a rather disturbing bunny-shaped elastic tie.
In a blink I was standing there beside her, transfixed by the image as it turned from the red horse into the white horse. I now noticed a dark-haired teen in the back corner of the white horse image. Who was she? I’d missed her before, distracted by the gruesome image of the slain
animal.
“I’m going to win,” the dark-haired girl next to me said, “and you’re going to die.”
“What?” I asked, turning to face her, but she was gone.
I looked back at the painting. Did she see herself as the red horse—war? Merryman had called the other girls I’d seen in the museum contenders. He’d said there was another girl I hadn’t seen—the quiet shy one, the blonde’s twin. If I included myself, that made four. I considered the horseman entry: When the fourth is known, one will prevail. War will force destruction or perish by the Fallen’s hand.
One will prevail—one of the contenders? Was this image why she assumed she’d win?
There was a brass plaque under the frame of the Horseman picture. It said Name Caller. But that name hadn’t been in the prophecy book.
I heard the faint sound of echoed laughter as I imagined the little girl skipping away to find her friend. I turned to follow.
The moment I entered the next room it flashed blue, then as if all color had been drained away, it went white. I turned to look back from where I’d come, but there was just a blank white wall behind me. The dream world had stopped being the museum. It was now just this stark white room.
The red and white horse painting from the other room appeared on the wall directly in front of me. The young girl with dark hair was in her place, standing there, studying it like before as it morphed from one image to the next.
The towheaded girl appeared to the right of the dark-haired girl. She stood in front of an equally odd canvas of a slain dragon, which I’d never seen before. Another girl was with her now—her twin. They both turned their heads toward me, as if to confirm they were identical, then looked back at their painting; one of them had to be the shy one Merryman mentioned, the one I’m not supposed to be nice to.
The dragon painting morphed between the depiction of a living dragon and the severed head of the beast lying frozen in shocked horror as a blond-haired teen clutched a blood-soaked silver collar. As the painting transformed to the dead beast, the shy twin lay lifeless on the floor. The image changed back into the dragon, and at the same time the shy girl appeared alive, as if the two events were connected.
I studied the picture more closely and realized the silver collar was locked around the living dragon’s neck. I glanced at the Horseman painting, then back at the dragon. If the horseman represented one of the prophecies, it made sense that this painting would also, but which one? I mentally scanned the list in my head. There was no dragon, but the beast was mentioned in two of the prophecies. There was The Harbinger, but I ruled that one out immediately, since it mentioned waking the beast, not killing it. The Time Queen—blood on the Time Queen’s hands will doom the beast—seemed a more obvious choice. Did that make the blonde in the painting the Time Queen? If so, why would she kill the beast—and what exactly did a Time Queen do?
I stepped closer to read the plaque on the wall beneath the painting: The Wanderer. That hadn’t been in the book, but neither had Name Caller. The plaques weren’t helping decipher the clues—if these paintings were connected. No, they had to be. Why else would Merryman have sent me after the book?
As if on cue, a third painting materialized in the room. It was placed on the wall to the left of the dark-haired girl. The first image showed a young woman with wild red hair that swirled around her like a lightning storm. There was a bustling city behind her. As the painting morphed, her eyes flashed green, just before her hair settled around her shoulders. All was calm now, but the city lay in ruin behind her. Four dark figures were all that remained of what had been there before.
“World Killer?” I muttered, but my voice came out as the squeak of a child.
I looked down. I was small, a child myself.
“Aren’t you going to join us now?” the dark-haired girl asked, pointing to the empty spot in front of the image of the destroyed city.
She and the blond girl were now staring at me. The blond twin—the shy one—continued to stand facing her canvas or laying dead on the floor as the scene in her painting alternated back and forth.
“Take your place with us,” the blond girl said. “It’s your fate. You must study it and learn.”
“Claire,” the young redheaded woman in the third image called to me.
I snapped my head around to look at the image. She beckoned me forward with her hand. I glanced back at the others—they didn’t seem to notice the girl in my painting was speaking to me. Were the girls in their paintings talking to them? Was that what the blond girl meant by “You must study it and learn”?
“No,” I said, my feet starting forward against my will.
“There’s no white knight this time,” the young redhead said. “You’ve cut those ties. He won’t save you now.”
He who? I thought, as Harry’s image came to mind. He’d been my savior as a child. Of course, back then I thought he was my social worker, Mr. Harrison; I’d learned the truth last spring. He wasn’t my savior, it had just been his turn to watch me.
“I can save myself,” I said, but it sounded odd coming from my childlike voice.
As I was pulled closer, the brass plaque beneath the frame came into view. I wasn’t sure what I expected it to say, but Fallen Queen wasn’t it. Was this supposed to be my prophecy? Mab had implied I was the girl—The Harbinger—but this looked more like the great destroyer. Were they one in the same? Was I The Harbinger and the great destroyer—the World Killer?
“Then you’ll die,” the redhead said, bringing me back from my puzzled thoughts, “and one of the others will win.”
The other girls laughed, as if they’d heard her. A sharp pain ripped through my head.
“Merryman,” I screamed as if that would get his attention.
“He won’t come,” the dark-haired girl said.
“He’s afraid of the one who lurks,” the blonde said.
“Quiet,” I roared, “it’s safe. No one’s home!”
A thunderous clap hit the room, the same as it had before when Merryman struck his cane against the floor. A wave of magic pushed out, freezing the girls and the paintings.
The quiet was deafening.
“Merryman,” I whispered, my voice now back to its normal tone. I looked down at my hands. I was myself again.
“It’s about time,” he said, materializing in front of me.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Shush, girl, and listen. Do not underestimate the Name Caller. She will discover your identity and use it against you. The Death Seeker must be protected at all costs. Her fate will decide the true balance of the war. She alone can sway it to evil. Pray, stay clear of The Wanderer. Her gift is more illusion than grandeur, but her power is deadly when paired with an unguarded mind. She will use your fears against you.”
The Death Seeker? The shy girl, I presumed, the one I’m not supposed to befriend. “So the dead girl is to be saved?”
“That’s what I said. And like you they are contenders for the prophecies, but the outcomes aren’t set.”
“So the prophecies are wrong? I found the book. I’ve read through them, but they don’t make any sense—I mean the one about the girl...about me...it’s not the same as what Mab told Mace.”
“The Harbinger,” he said, nodding. “It’s the truest marker, but to win the game you must stop the others. Spring will—”
“Wait, answer me this. Is the dark-haired girl—” I pointed to the frozen image of the girl in front of the horseman painting. “—is she the Name Caller? Is her prophecy the Horseman?” Reciting it from memory, I said, “‘When the fourth is known, one will prevail. War will force destruction or perish by the Fallen’s hand.’”
He pursed his lips, then nodded.
“Am I supposed to kill her? Is that how I’m going to win this game?” In a softer voice I added, “a game I’m not sure I want to play.”
Merryman laughed. “Then let one of them kill you, and another shall win the prize.”
“What exactly does it mean, ‘When the fourth is known’?” I waved at the other girls still frozen in place. “There are four of us. How are we not already known?”
“Ask Spring.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll ask Spring,” I said, using Harry’s seasonal name, “but the shy girl”—I pointed toward the girl lying frozen on the ground by her twin—“she’s the Death Seeker.”
He nodded.
“Her twin is The Wanderer—The Queen of Time?” I recited more of the prophecy, “‘Blood on the Time Queen’s hands will doom the beast, and end the quest.’”
“Yes, yes, but none of this will help you until you have discovered the fourth girl. Go to Harry—”
“Harry? Don’t you mean Spring?” I asked, interrupting him. “How do you know what was in the book? You haven’t been surprised by anything I’ve said. Who are you really?”
Merryman clamped his mouth shut and remained quiet.
He knew the prophecies from Omar’s book. Was this Omar in disguise? I couldn’t think of anyone else it could be. It was his book that I had to read, and it was Jayne’s blood that opened the blank pages in the book.
“Omar?” I asked.
His mouth went slack, then abruptly he turned to leave. Throwing his words back over his shoulder, he said, “Go, find Harry. He’ll—”
I stood there, gaping, as Merryman—or was it Omar?—literally bronzed in front of me. He looked as if he were the perfect street performer. I was pulled out of my shock when a young couple sidled up beside me, oo-ing and aah-ing over the latest statue by Alexander Quin. It took me a minute to realize I was back in the museum. The white room was gone.
I took a step back. A sign in front of Merryman read: “Wizened, Wired, and Wild, by Alexander Quin.”