The Nightmare Charade

by Mindee Arnett

  “Are you really Valentine or is that shape stolen?”

  “Borrowed, my dear, borrowed. And no, this is the first time I’ve worn him.”

  The brilliance of his power filled me with both awe and terror, and I understood more than ever before why these creatures had been so hunted. If they were all like this one, maybe that persecution was even deserved. The thought sickened me, and I hated myself for thinking it.

  This is only one shape-changer, I remembered. Condemning them all based on his behavior would be like condemning all witchkind based on the things that Titus Kirkwood had done. Still, I couldn’t deny my revulsion at such unrestrained power.

  When we arrived at the gates into the Menagerie, the shape-changer pulled a D.I.M.S. badge out of his pocket and ordered the workers and Will Guards assembled there to let us inside.

  They didn’t even consider refusing. Why would they? The shape-changer was convincing. For my part, he’d ordered me to be silent. I was okay with obeying. It gave me a chance to slip my hand into my pocket and activate the beacon. At least, I hoped it was active. I’d pressed the button once and then yanked my hand out, convinced for a second that the shape-changer had noticed.

  But he was busy giving false instructions to the Menagerie workers. “We have an idea of where to look for Alan Early. You all stay put and wait for the rest of the police force. Sheriff Brackenberry will be here shortly.”

  Again, no one questioned, no one doubted. I wanted to scream the truth at them, but that desire warred with my need to get to my mother and Eli. I didn’t trust the shape-changer for an instant, no matter what he said about not killing me. But I believed completely that he had my loved ones hidden somewhere in this place. He was my only way of finding them.

  The shape-changer directed me further into the Menagerie and around a corner, heading out of sight of the guards. He touched my arm briefly, and I felt my body return to its true shape with a relief. Then we double backed to the long low building that Paul had taken me to once before. Fear rose up in me at the sight of it—and doubt. The abandoned dragon caves below would be the perfect hiding place. Had that been the real Paul who took me there that day? Or had it been the shape-changer all along? I couldn’t decide. Before, when I’d been here, Paul had seemed so much like Paul. But how could he have been coming here and not have known about the shape-changer? Was it just coincidence?

  My insides clenched—I didn’t believe in coincidence.

  We entered the building and the shape-changer closed and locked the door behind us. I headed for the tunnel without being asked, but he called for me to stop. I swung to face him. He was still wearing the Valentine disguise.

  “Turn out your pockets, please,” he said.

  I felt my heart pulsing in my throat. “What?”

  “You heard me.” The shape-changer folded his arms across his chest.

  Glowering to hide my fear, I shoved my hands into my pockets and withdrew my cell phone from the right one and the tension wrench and rake from the left.

  The shape-changer took a step closer to me and examined the objects. He picked up the tension wrench and rake and slid them into his own pocket. Then he picked up my phone. Before I could protest he smashed it against the floor and stomped on it for good measure.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, wincing. “You could’ve just turned it off.”

  “Destruction is always the safest option.”

  I started to argue, but he grabbed my arm and wrenched it behind my back.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to pull free, but he only increased the pressure. I had no choice but to bend forward at the waist. With me now immobilized, the shape-changer slid his free hand into my left pocket. I wanted to squirm, the feel of his hand there sickeningly intimate, but before I could react, he let go of me.

  I spun toward him to see the beacon in his hand.

  “Oh, poor, poor Corvus.” A look of mock pity appeared on the shape-changer’s borrowed face, but I saw the delight of victory twinkling in his eyes. “Cine-aphan,” he said. There was a loud crack as the beacon vanished.

  I trembled, my knees threatening to buckle. My best chance of help had just been obliterated.

  “Go on.” The shape-changer motioned me toward the sloping floor ahead. “I believe you know the way.”

  Swallowing, I headed down the tunnel. In seconds, the darkness grew too thick for me to see the ground in front of me, and I stopped and faced him. “You got a flashlight or something?” Once again I felt the painful absence of my magic.

  The shape-changer raised his hand and a ball of light appeared over his head. It hung there for a moment and then flew forward like a giant, round firefly.

  I followed after it. We reached the spiral stairs and headed down, eventually arriving at the dragon cave where I’d come with Paul just a few days before.

  I slowed down, but the shape-changer pushed me forward. “Head for the next tunnel.”

  Inwardly cursing, I made my way toward it. Whether it had been Paul here with me the last time or not, I soon found out it was no lie about the tunnel being dangerous. I had to hold one hand pressed against the wall to keep from sliding with every step. But no matter where I put my hand, the rock wall crumbled, adding more scree to the already treacherous floor.

  I walked on, uncomplaining. Deeper and deeper we went. Soon the main tunnel branched off into several smaller tunnels. The shape-changer pointed to the one on the left. I headed down it only to be confronted with more branching tunnels not far ahead. Once again, the shape-changer indicated the way. Over and over we reached branching tunnels until I was so hopelessly lost I doubted I would ever find my way back.

  “Do you want to tell me where we’re headed?” I said, giving into my nerves.

  “I don’t think so,” came his quick reply. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  I rolled my eyes, the gesture wasted with my back to him.

  A few seconds later, I tried again. “So who are you for real?”

  Silence answered the question, and I glanced over my shoulder, nearly losing my balance in the process. The shape-changer was still wearing Valentine’s form.

  “That’s an interesting question,” he said, motioning for me to continue down the slope. “I have so many shapes that belong to me. And to be honest, my first shape is so old I barely remember what it feels like to wear it any longer. Not that I would ever want to.”

  I gave a sharp intake of breath. “What do you mean old?”

  “Oh, I take it Corvus did not fill you in on everything about shape-changers, did he?”

  I shrugged. “How am I supposed to know if I don’t already know?”

  “Good point.” The shape-changer sniffed. “But surely he told you how we claim the body and mind of others.”

  “If you mean the bit about eating hearts, then yes.”

  The shape-changer tsked. “It’s not as disgusting or unfathomable as you make it sound. The true shift, as it’s called, prolongs our life. It’s the ability that got my kindred in trouble all those years ago. I mean, what would you do if you were sick and dying of old age and had the ability to take someone’s life so you could continue living?”

  I suppressed a shiver of horror. “You really want me to answer that?”

  “No,” he said. “What value would your opinion have? You can’t judge if you’ve never been in the situation, now can you? You are young and healthy, full of hopes and dreams about long life. You have no idea what it will be like for you in the end. But I have been there, and suffice it to say it’s a decision I have never regretted.”

  “Really?” I said shooting him a look over my shoulder. “I’m so surprised that you don’t regret murdering people.” We’d been traveling ever downward, but the steepness of the slope seemed to be lessening. The smell of water had been growing steadily stronger. “But what you’re really saying,” I continued when my sarcastic comment failed to get a response, “is that you’ve stolen so many lives that
you don’t remember your own?”

  “Oh, I remember it,” he said. “I just don’t choose to wear it anymore. It’s like casting aside a pair of shoes. They served you well, and now you’re ready for something new. But don’t fret, Dusty Everhart. I do have a current true form, and it’s one you’re very familiar with.”

  As he spoke, I felt icy fingers slide down my back. It was a voice I recognized. The voice of someone I trusted enough to have let him into my head over and over again in the nousdesmos. With my heart in my throat and my stomach drawing in on itself, I stopped and slowly turned around to face the shape-changer.

  Mr. Deverell’s handsome face grinned back at me. For a second, I refused to believe it. This had to be another trick.

  But then I felt the brush of his mind against mine, the touch of it unmistakable.

  The shape-changer, the man who’d freed Marrow from his tomb, was Mr. Deverell. It had been him all along.

  27

  Will of Its Own

  I couldn’t stop the tears. They came of their own will. I turned around and wiped them away before he could see. His betrayal stung deep, making each breath shaky and painful. I didn’t understand it—he could’ve kidnapped me easily before this. So why had he waited? What did he want from me? I was afraid to find out.

  Fortunately, our walk continued on for several more minutes, giving me a chance to regain my composure. I buried the hurt of his betrayal as deeply as I could. I told myself there had been a real Deverell once, the man whose memories and mannerisms had created the teacher I cared about so much. That man, that first Deverell, deserved vengeance against the creature that had stolen his life.

  Hatred began to build steam inside of me. It gave me focus, driving away the fear. I needed to rescue my mom and Eli, and I needed to destroy this monster behind me.

  Finally, the passageway we’d been following came to an end. Deverell’s ball of light flew into the room ahead of us, and once it got there, it multiplied. Soon dozens of such lights hung over our heads, revealing a vast cavernous space. The ceiling was so tall that all I could see of it were the tips of stalactites pointed down at us like clawed, accusatory fingers.

  Ahead stood a circular structure some four feet tall that at first appeared to be made of stone. I would’ve called it a wall but the description didn’t fit. It wasn’t made of sharp angles, but was perfectly round in shape, a cylinder lying on its side. I blinked, trying to make sense of it. But as I drew closer to it I realized that what I had taken for stone blocks were actually carvings in the wall … of scales.

  “The Great Ouroboros,” I said, the words involuntary in the force of my astonishment.

  Deverell made a noise of approval from behind me. “Yes, very good. It took me months to find it. But I knew it was down here somewhere. All the historical documents on the Iwatoke said so. I had to find it, of course. After you killed my master.”

  I snorted, unable to help myself. “Your master? What is this, a Star Wars movie?”

  Deverell narrowed his cool blue eyes on my face. He might be a monster, but he was no less handsome than before, a scary kind of handsome. “I am proud to call the Red Warlock master. He is worthy to be served.”

  “Whoa, somebody’s been drinking the Marrow Kool-Aid real hard.”

  To my surprise Deverell smiled. “Soon the whole world will feel as I do.” His smile widened, revealing perfectly white, straight teeth. “And those who don’t will be silenced forever.”

  I gulped, the idea of his brainwashing no longer funny. Not when it had such real consequences. I pulled my gaze away from him and surveyed the rest of the area. My breath hitched as I spotted a distant shoreline. Black water glistened beneath the balls of light overhead. Floating in the water was an ancient-looking boat. It wasn’t the same as the barge in Eli’s dreams, but close enough to set my heart to racing.

  I turned back to Deverell. “Where’s my mom? Where’s Eli?” I kept glancing at the boat, fearing his answer would involve a trip down that black river.

  To my relief Deverell turned toward the Great Ouroboros and pointed. “In there, along with the Red Warlock.”

  I turned my gaze to the dragon statue again, wondering what horrors awaited me inside.

  “Go on,” Deverell prodded. “I’ll help you climb over.”

  Dread began to beat a steady tattoo against my skull. True to its mythology, the Great Ouroboros was a singular object, with no beginning or end. There was no secret door through it, no passageway beneath it. The only way inside was to climb over, it seemed.

  As Deverell had guessed, I needed help. It was too tall for me to jump and the top too high and round for me to hoist myself up. If only I’d been born a siren like Selene. Then it would’ve been easy.

  For a moment, after Deverell helped me up and over it, I was alone. It would’ve been the perfect time to prepare an attack—if I’d had access to my magic, and if I hadn’t been completely shocked by the scene inside the large stone ring.

  There were five low stone altars—one in the middle with the others set around it like the four points of a compass. A body lay on top of each one. On the center stone, which sat higher than the others, was Marrow. I recognized him easily—his face the same as it had ever been, the only difference the longer, unkempt beard. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest. The Death’s Heart had been placed between his hands. It gave off a faint red glow that pulsated like a real heart. Sitting on the wall directly across from the altar was the black phoenix. Its red eyes were fixed on me, but it made no move to attack.

  With terror twisting in my gut, I pulled my eyes away to look at the other altars. My spirits lifted as I saw Eli on the nearest one. He appeared to be asleep, but otherwise okay. Not at all like my mother lying on the next one. She was noticeably thinner and sickly pale. I rushed over to her. Dark bruises rimmed her cheekbones and the blue-black lines of veins were visible in her forehead.

  I put my hand on her bare arm and flinched at the iciness of her skin. “Mom!” I shook her.

  “Don’t waste the effort,” Deverell said, walking over to me. “She will not wake up so long as she is under the spell of the Death’s Heart.”

  I glared up at him, tears hot in my eyes. “Take it off.” It was a stupid demand, but desperation clouded my reason.

  “All in good time,” Deverell said. “And assuming you do your part.”

  I dropped my gaze back to my mother. If I only knew how to break the spell myself. I tried to reach out to Bellanax with my mind, but it was hopeless without my magic. Somehow I needed to break free of Deverell’s spell and get the sword back.

  With despair pressing down on me, I turned away from my mother. My eyes fell on the next altar, the one directly above Marrow. For a moment, I had no idea who was lying there, but then slowly I realized it was Bethany Grey.

  She was utterly changed. The woman I’d known before had been large and strong, with mounds of extra flesh on her body, the kind of woman who would’ve looked at home in a powerlifting contest. But now, Bethany Grey had been reduced to a shell of a person. There was still extra flesh, but it hung off her bones in loose folds, as if all the muscle and fat beneath had been sucked out. Wrinkles covered her ashen skin in a thousand spiderweb cracks. Like the vision of my dead body in Eli’s dream, her eyes were sunken into her head, her face skeletal.

  I covered my mouth against my revolting stomach.

  Seeing my alarm, Deverell turned his attention to Bethany. He let out a long, low sigh. “It’s tragic, isn’t it? She was once such a fearsome creature.”

  “You’re disgusting. You did this to her.” Bethany Grey had been a horrible person, who’d done horrible things, but she didn’t deserve this. No one did. This was the very worst suffering I’d ever seen anyone endure. She’d been wasted away to nothing by the Death’s Heart.

  “Wrong,” Deverell said, placing his hands on his hips. “Bethany did this to herself. Oh, I put the spell on her, to be
sure, but she earned her place. In fact, when I helped her escape the Rush, she surrendered to the Death’s Heart’s magic willingly. She failed the Red Warlock. You and your mother should never have been able to defeat him. Bethany understood she was the weak link. She failed him in life, but has repaid him in her death. She has made the ultimate sacrifice to our master.”

  “That’s sick.” I pointed at Marrow. “He’s already lived dozens of lives. He didn’t even deserve the first one.”

  “You’re wrong. He deserves all we have to give him.”

  I shook my head. “So is that why you killed Titus? Did he fail Marrow in some way?”

  “Not exactly. Titus’s sin was that he presumed himself to be as great as Marrow. I couldn’t allow him to continue.” Deverell turned and motioned to the fourth altar. “But like Bethany, Paul was also there when you defeated my master. He, too, owes a death, but he is so young still. I decided to give him a second chance, but sadly he failed once more.”

  My head buzzed with alarm, and I jerked my gaze toward the last altar. Paul was lying there in the same unconscious pose as the others. I hurried over to him, afraid that he wouldn’t be far behind Bethany. But when my eyes fell on him fully, I saw that he was hardly more drained than Eli.

  “How long has he been like this?” I turned to Deverell.

  He thought about it a moment, doing a mental calculation. “Six days. He’s been working for me all along, you know. From the moment he first revealed himself to you in the infirmary. I needed your help, you see. Or more specifically, what you call the Dream Team’s help. I’d been trying to take out Corvus for months now. I’ve been able to stay ahead of him, but he was closing in. I couldn’t risk going to his house on my own. If he’d discovered me, I would’ve had to find a new disguise, and that takes planning and more time than I could afford. But the investigation you launched against him proved the perfect cover.”