“Wouldn’t you do the same?” Selene said. “If Eli turned out evil and you had to stop him, I mean.”
The notion of Eli turning evil was absurd, but I could see her point. Would I choose as Nimue had? Would a life spent in a shared dream, able to see and talk to Eli but never touch him, be better than ending it forever? It wasn’t a choice I wanted to make—ever.
“Maybe,” I said, meeting Selene’s gaze. “But we don’t know that Nimue could’ve done something else.”
“Exactly.”
I touched a finger to the silver band on my wrist. Do you know? The sword hummed in my mind but nothing more. If it did know, maybe the psychometry would reveal it. More and more I was ready to give it a try, but the last thing Deverell had said before he went out on sick leave was that I needed to gain more control first.
“Anyway,” Selene said. “How’d it go with Paul?”
Relieved at the change in subject, I filled her in. While I did, I sat down and opened my eTab to a search window.
“Teeth?” Selene said, a look of disgust twisting her lips.
“Apparently.”
She began to fiddle with the end of her braid. “I suppose that makes sense though. They say the tooth fairy myth was created by shape-changers.”
I looked up from the screen. “Really? I figured the tooth fairy would turn out to be real.”
Selene laughed. “Not hardly. No more than Santa Claus.”
I was strangely bummed by this news.
“Shape-changers made it up as an easy way to get a hold of teeth,” Selene continued. “But once they died out, ordinaries just kept on doing it anyway.”
I nodded, having heard similar stories before. “But what did they want with baby teeth?”
“Beats me.” Selene inclined her head toward the computer. “What are you looking up?”
I faced the screen. “I need to figure out the significance of the Iwatoke and the ouroboros.”
“The what and the what?”
I explained the connection between Eli’s dreams and the dragon caves. As I talked, I entered the search string and started sifting through the results. Right away the first hit caught my eye—Iwatoke and the Cult of Resurrection.
I clicked on it and scanned the first couple of paragraphs before slowing down to read one more carefully:
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the Iwatoke culture is their belief in the Great Ouroboros, a legendary dragon who died swallowing its own tail. At the moment of its death, the dragon’s body was said to have hardened into stone, creating a walled space set in a perfect circle. The Iwatoke believed the area within the ouroboros circle to be holy, and that it possessed extraordinary restorative powers. They claimed that any person close to death or recently departed could be returned to life if set in the center of the circle. Some accounts state an accompanying spell was needed to activate the magic in the ouroboros, while others say only those blessed by the Great Dragon were granted the power of resurrection.
However, despite the discovery of nearly a dozen ouroboros circles throughout the lands of Ohio, Indiana, West Virginia, and Kentucky, none of them have possessed any magical properties whatsoever. In fact, most appear to be carved of various naturally occurring materials such as limestone, flint, or granite. Although some more determined treasure hunters continue the search for a real ouroboros circle, the magickind historic and scientific communities have determined that the Great Ouroboros was simply a myth perpetuated by the Iwatoke.
I didn’t read any further but went back to the search page and clicked on another link. It said much the same thing, although with a little more detail on the supposed ritual as well as speculation on what purpose the myth might have served within the Iwatoke culture.
After exploring a couple of other links, disappointment set in. It seemed the ouroboros simply meant what Eli and I had originally thought—Marrow. Their presence in the dragon caves must be mere coincidence.
“No luck?” Selene said.
“Looks that way.” I cracked my knuckles. “But what else is new?”
“Come on, then,” Selene said, standing up. “Will you help me train for the gladiator tryouts? You’ll make a more interesting opponent than Buster here.”
The chair made a disappointed noise.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I said, glancing around the room.
Selene waved off my concern. “We’ll just pass a few volleys. No big deal.”
Ha ha—right.
Selene’s few volleys ended up being a spectacle of blood and bruises.
Without protective gear, we could only trade shots back and forth, either blocking with a shield spell or trying to repel them with the counter-curse. Yeah, in hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea we’d ever had. I realized it when Selene failed to repel my dazing curse all the way. I’d thrown it without any real heat or force. Nevertheless, blood burst from her lip as it glanced off her face.
“Oh, God, Selene, I’m sorry.” I took a step toward her, just as she threw a dazing curse my way. It was too late to block, too late to do anything except raise my hands in front of my face and hope for the best.
The spell struck me, and then … nothing. One moment the magic was there and the next it was gone as if it had never been. Except around my wrist, I sensed Bellanax’s presence grow stronger, more physically real somehow.
But the realization mattered for less than a second as pain exploded in my knees. Shrieking, I looked down to see that Buster was in full attack mode. The chair had just careened into my legs and was already backing up to do it again.
“Heel, you stupid thing,” I shouted at it. But it only pealed its wheels and charged forward.
A jet of magic struck it just before it crashed into me. Buster careened sideways and tipped over. Its wheels kept spinning wildly, but once it was down there was no way it was getting up on its own.
I glanced at Selene. “Thanks. And wow, I’m really sorry about your face.”
She grinned and gently probed her bleeding lip. “Looks like I need to work on that one. And sorry about that spell. It was reaction. But at least you blocked it.”
“No problem,” I said, and felt Bellanax warming against my skin. I hadn’t blocked it, and neither had the sword. Instead, Bellanax had absorbed the magic into itself. I could feel the increased power even now, like a buzz of electricity dancing over my skin. I stared down at it, wondering at this newest development. It had never shielded me from a spell before. Maybe all the mind-magic exercises Deverell had me doing was finally having an effect. The sword did seem more accessible than ever. It was as if there’d been a bad cell phone connection between us before, full of static and nebulous existence. Now it was as clear and steady as a landline.
Deciding we’d done enough damage for one evening, Selene righted Buster, gave the chair a pat, and then we left for the cafeteria.
“What the hell happened to you?” Lance said as we arrived, his eyes fixed on Selene’s injured face. His expression turned instantly murderous.
She and I exchanged a look.
Then Selene faced Lance, letting a slow, sultry smile spread over her lips. I wasn’t sure how she could do it without wincing from pain, but she did. It was so dazzling it made the injury look weirdly sexy.
“We got to goofing around in room oh-thirteen,” she said. “No big deal.” She rolled her shoulders, turning up the charm even more, but I could tell she wasn’t using her siren magic. She didn’t need to. Not with Lance.
His glare turned into a soppy grin. I sat down across from Eli, suddenly very grateful that my injuries from our sparring session weren’t visible. I had a feeling a smile and a wink wouldn’t cut it with Eli, not considering that I’d spent a good hour alone with Paul earlier today.
But at least when I gave him the recap of my trip down to the dragon caves, he kept his cool. Mostly, I think, because he was so intrigued by the Iwatoke and the ouroboros.
“But the search didn’t turn up anything?” h
e asked.
“Unfortunately, no.”
Eli drummed his fingers on the table. “I’d still like to get a look at the cave. Maybe Paul can take us both down there next time.”
I nodded, trying to hide my relief that he was relaxing a little about Paul.
“I’ve found out something new, too,” Eli said a few moments later. “But it’ll have to wait until we’re alone.”
After dinner he and I headed back to the library for some studying and a private chat. As usual, a couple of Will Guards trailed behind us. I didn’t understand how they could always be so on it. I never caught them following me when I was by myself or with Selene. Only when I was with Eli. They were getting more and more obvious about it. Tonight they were so pursuant that Eli and I had to retreat to the farthest corner of the study room we’d selected—one conveniently devoid of anyone else—and even then he had to whisper before the nondisclosure spell would let him speak.
“Remember when I asked Valentine if the Death’s Heart was a real heart?” Eli said.
Slowly, the conversation came back to me. “He wasn’t sure, right?”
“Yes, but now I think—” He paused and glanced at the door where we’d both heard a noise. When no one came inside, he turned back to me. “—That it’s the heart of a Grim Reaper.”
“Like a real Grim Reaper? The personification of death itself?” I couldn’t keep the doubt from my voice.
Eli nodded. “I know it sounds crazy, but I guess they were some kind of corporeal spirit. Only none have been seen for centuries.”
“Nice,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “So Santa Claus is bogus but Grim Reapers are the genuine article. What does that say about the world?”
Eli smiled ruefully. “I don’t know, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I stared at him, uncertain. Then a chill inched down my neck as I remembered the scythe my mom had been holding in the dream. “That my mom is connected to the Death’s Heart?”
“It seems that way.”
Yes, it did. “But how?”
Eli opened his mouth to answer, but it was no good. The Will Guards chose that moment to come in and drive us out.
“It’s getting late,” one of them said. “You two should be heading back to your dorms. Alone.”
“No kidding,” I muttered, my mood suddenly bleak.
* * *
That bleakness did not improve. The next few days the Will Guard got worse and worse about breaking Eli and I apart. I tried to keep my spirits up by focusing on freeing my mom, but it was taking Paul longer than expected to finish the ID. Even worse, every time I e-mailed Lady Elaine asking to see my mother, she kept putting me off—the cell’s not ready yet. Which meant my mom was still under the sleeping spell.
At least training with Selene was helping keep me busy. She and I spent several hours both Saturday and Sunday practicing in Room 013 while the boys were at gladiator training. Selene had managed to borrow a couple of gladiator helmets from the school’s storeroom for our use. She’d gotten lucky late Friday night when she snuck into the gym to steal a couple, only to find Culpepper there cleaning up. He liked her almost as much as he liked me, and so had let her borrow two with minimal fuss and grumbling.
The addition of the helmets made gladiator training less perilous, although not incident free. Selene was sporting bruises up and down both arms and along one hip by the time Monday rolled around. For me, I hadn’t gotten so much as a broken fingernail. Every time I failed to block a spell, Bellanax was there, ready to absorb it. It was comforting to feel so indestructible.
If only Bellanax was capable of protecting me from emotional attacks, same as magical ones. But no, as Bollinger proved in seconds of arriving at my dorm that night to escort me to the dream-session with Eli. I tried my best to ignore her mutterings and complaints, the not-so-veiled insults, but by the time we arrived at Flint Hall, I was ready to try the asunder curse again.
Bellanax burned around my wrist. Shut up, shut up.
“Then again,” Bollinger was saying, “I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised you’re the one who broke the Will spell. Especially given your murderess of a mother.” Bollinger pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Hupno-drasi!”
Eli was just standing up from his desk when the spell struck him in the chest. His eyes slid closed, and he slumped to the floor, whacking his head as he fell.
“You … you evil, awful person!” I pushed past her into the dorm.
“That’s rich coming from a Nightmare,” Bollinger said, completely unconcerned. She pointed her wand at Eli again and muttered a spell I didn’t know. His body rose into the air, his limbs jerking awkwardly. She levitated him across the room and dropped him onto the sofa.
Then she turned to face me once more. “Get on with it before I decide to use the same spell on you.”
Go ahead and try. My hand rose automatically to my wrist. Bellanax roared inside my head, demanding to be unleashed. The incantations to a half-dozen spells flitted through my mind, each as easy to pluck out and use as selecting a pen from a drawer. You can destroy her. Silence her forever.
My vision blurred. I started to slide the silver band from my wrist. In another moment the glamour would be off.
No! I gritted my teeth, wrestling for control. I couldn’t do this. Not now, not here with this woman watching. Bollinger had been a Will-Worker, she might recognize Bellanax.
Destroy her! The sword shouted in my mind. It gave up its attempt to be free from the glamour. But it didn’t need to be free for me to use the spells it offered. It would be so easy. So satisfying.
No. This time the thought was firm in my mind, and a moment later I felt the fight go out of the sword entirely as it surrendered to my will.
Bollinger watched me with an annoyed expression. “What are you waiting for? Get on with it.”
Wiping sweat from my brow, I walked past her over to Eli. Trembles of anger still slid through my body, but there was triumph there, too. I’d come so close to giving up control to Bellanax, but I hadn’t. Deverell would be proud when he heard.
You should consider yourself lucky, I thought, glancing back at Bollinger. And that, too, made me feel better, a strange, new sort of power—the power not to act.
Clinging to this victory, I climbed onto Eli and descended into his dreams.
19
Proceed with Caution
We were on the barge again. And this time it wasn’t deserted. My dead body was once more lying on the ouroboros bed, but it didn’t disturb me quite as much as before. Maybe because of the comfortable weight of Bellanax around my wrist, the sure knowledge that it could hand me spells at will. Nothing could hurt me with the sword around.
Still, I could tell it bothered Eli. I watched as he bent toward my body, his eyes drawn and face shadowed. He studied my corpse as if trying to read some clue of how I died there. I stared, too, ignoring the creep factor. But in seconds, I felt certain we weren’t going to learn anything by just looking.
Mustering my courage, I leaned forward, took hold of the burial shroud covering my chest, and pulled it back all the way. Beneath, I was wearing a white gown of a design from a long-gone era, circa the age of King Arthur and my great-great grandmother Nimue. A swath of red as bright as paint stained the gown on the left side of the chest.
Right over the heart. My breath caught in my throat and a wrench went through my rib cage like a phantom pain of the same injury I was seeing below. With my heart starting to pound in my ears, I reached out and tentatively pulled down the collar of the gown, just enough to reveal the open, weeping puncture wound. It was easily the width of three fingers and looked deep enough to have gone all the way through to the other side. Not that I was about to flip the body over to make certain.
Beside me, I heard Eli make a choking noise. I glanced at him and realized it wasn’t a sound of revulsion but of despair.
“Cover it up,” Eli said, turning away.
I ob
eyed, as eager to hide it as he was and wishing I hadn’t looked in the first place. Absently twisting the silver band on my wrist, I stepped nearer to Eli.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Even though I spoke softly, my words echoed in the cavernous space.
Eli faced me, his gaze hooded. A muscle in his jaw moved in and out. “I’ve been better.” He raised his hands to his temple and pressed for a second. “Seeing you dead or hurting or anything other than happy is really starting to get old.”
“I know,” I said. I was tired of both seeing myself in his dreams and of seeing him unhappy in my own dreams. The attack was relentless and perpetually cruel. “But the best thing we can do is get this solved. The sooner we find the Death’s Heart, the sooner these dreams will stop. I’m sure of it.”
Eli’s jaw worked back and forth. “Are you?”
I flinched, his doubt a physical blow. “Of course I am. Aren’t you? Please tell me you’re not starting to buy into all of this.” I motioned behind us toward the ouroboros bed. “It’s all just symbols, Eli. Nothing means what it appears to on the surface. And we already know my mother is in danger. This is just more of that.” My voice broke, tears threatening to make an appearance. Yet again today, I’d been told I couldn’t see her.
He didn’t reply, and I felt my heart tumble from my chest into my stomach. I couldn’t take the idea that he might change his mind about us. Not now, with everything going on. I needed things to be right between us, the possibility of the curse far, far away.
Finally, he drew a breath and said, “I’ve seen this before. You lying just like that, with just that wound.” He pointed to the corpse lying between us. “I’ve seen it in my own dreams, and I’ve seen it in—” He broke off at a strange noise. It was a loud moan of wood bending, the sound a tree makes when its bough breaks in the wind.
Eli and I both headed toward it, stepping out from the curtained platform and onto the prow of the ship. The source of the noise became apparent at once. The masthead, which before had been carved into a dragon not much different from the ouroboros bed, was now the likeness of a giant bird. It had the head and neck of a heron, but with the crest of a harpy eagle, two tufts like feathered horns. The bird’s wooden façade was beginning to crack and splinter like an eggshell. Real feathers as black as wet ink appeared beneath. Slowly, loudly the masthead was coming to life.
The Nightmare Charade Page 20