The Nightmare Charade

by Mindee Arnett

  I felt the color leach from my face. Paul had been involved in all the evidence we discovered. He’d hacked Valentine’s files. He could have altered the contents before handing them over. It was Paul’s idea for us to go to Corvus’s house. It was Paul who gave me the shape-change necklace and insisted only I could go to Corvus’s house with him.

  But no, I refused to just take this man’s word on it. Deverell was a master of deception. “Why would Paul have helped you? He turned his back on Marrow after he learned that Titus was one of his supporters.”

  “Did he now?” Deverell arched a single eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  I wanted to rip the mocking expression from his face.

  “The thing about Paul,” Deverell said, crossing his arms over his chest, “is that he craves freedom and acceptance above all else. These are the two things his uncle denied him for so long. But Paul is not stupid. He knows that given his history the only way he will ever be free is when Marrow is in control. The Magi Senate will never trust him enough to leave him unattended. He found that out quite well in the months after Marrow’s defeat.”

  The room seemed to spin around me. I remembered how sincere Paul had been when he told me he would do anything to avoid being imprisoned once more. At the time, I’d thought he meant that he was on the straight and narrow path. Except with his Will Guard monitors and the need for the shape-change necklace, he was more a prisoner than ever.

  The realization turned my blood to ice water. “If Paul is working for you, then why is he like this?” I motioned to his unconscious body, tears threatening again, angry ones this time.

  “He had a last minute change of heart,” Deverell said. “He started questioning me at every turn, doubting my decisions. I knew it was only a matter of time before he weakened. It all started when he and I brought your mother down here. I think it was because the two of you look so much alike.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Deverell rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t know. Paul is in love with you. You might be the one thing he wants almost as much as his freedom and autonomy. Of course, again, he’s not stupid. He knows you don’t love him in return, but feelings like that are a sort of sickness. The heart has a way of corrupting the mind. I knew it was just a matter of time before he was tempted to tell you the truth, so I took the option away from him.”

  I gritted my teeth. “So now you are the one denying him his freedom.”

  Deverell shrugged. “I could’ve just killed him instead. Would that have been better? It certainly would’ve been easier than having to pretend I was him all day, if I had done the true shift on him.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “You sucked at being him.” Outwardly, I sounded brave, but inside my fear was spreading like an epidemic. He could’ve killed Paul—and eaten his heart. He could’ve done it to Eli or my mom.

  He could do it to me and no one would ever know. They’ll never find me down here.

  Deverell laughed. “It was good enough to fool you for a while. The mission to Corvus’s house was a success.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver ring.

  “You stole that?”

  “Oh, yes. This ring was the main reason I’ve had Paul working so hard to get you there. Corvus kept it in a safe in the kitchen. Took us a long time to figure out the location and combination.”

  “What is it?”

  “Invincibility.” Deverell reached into his other pocket and withdrew two more rings, one golden and the other the dark dull color of iron. He placed the silver ring with the other two. Then he closed his fingers around them.

  Magic stirred in the air. There was a faint tinkling sound, and then Deverell opened his hand once more. The three rings were now linked into one. He held it up, and I saw that together they made the Borromean rings—the symbol of magickind united. If the silver ring belonged to Marrow, I wondered if the other two had once belonged to his Borromean brothers, now dead.

  I shivered, sensing the power in the rings the same way that I sensed it in Bellanax. “That makes someone invincible?”

  “As near as it is possible to be.” Deverell aligned the three rings into one and then slid it onto his right index finger. With a look of triumph he clasped his hands together and turned his attention fully to me. “It’s now time for your part.” Deverell reached into his pocket once more and this time he pulled out my silver bracelet.

  I inhaled, jealousy and fear warring for dominance inside of me. I wanted Bellanax back. Right now. For a second I wanted it more than anything else, even saving my mother and Eli.

  Unaware of my inner struggle, Deverell took off the glamour on the sword. Bellanax appeared in his hand, the runes on the blade winking in the lights floating overhead.

  He turned the sword over, examining it from all sides. “Do you know much about sword lore, Dusty?”

  I shook my head. “Lady Elaine says most of the lore has been lost.”

  Deverell clucked his tongue. “So it has, like so many things. I didn’t know much about it myself, either, but I’ve since learned. It appears that some swords, the most powerful ones, have the ability to steal the souls of those they kill. A bit like the Death’s Heart, actually.”

  Mr. Corvus’s words came back to me—soul magic. A deeper, darker fear began to spread through me now.

  “Only for most swords, the soul-stealing happens only during the first kill,” Deverell continued, turning Bellanax over to examine the other side. “It was for this reason that a young swordsman in possession of a newly made sword would often seek out the most powerful being he could find to kill first. That’s how this sword became a numen vessel in the first place. The very first person to possess the sword all those centuries ago sought out the most powerful magickind of the age, and killed him with it.”

  Bellanax, I thought. Had it been a person once? A magickind, slain by the sword’s first owner and trapped inside it forever?

  “Marrow became its owner not long after,” Deverell said, walking over to the center altar. I followed him, reluctantly. “He made it what it is now. He possessed the sword up until the time you killed him.”

  I flinched. It was true—I had killed him, stabbed him with his own sword; I’d done it to save my mom, Eli, Selene, myself. But I suddenly felt unclean, soiled by the sword and its bloodthirsty history.

  “But a strange thing happened then.” Deverell shifted the sword in his hands, turning it sideways where he cupped the blade with his other hand. “The sword had never been used against Marrow before, never on a man who can be killed but who cannot die. All the other times Marrow had been killed before, the sword remained safe from his attackers, the bond unbroken. But when you used his own sword on him, you trapped him in it. His soul—his vital essence—should have stayed tethered to his body long enough for the phoenix to reclaim him. Instead, you sliced it free and the sword pulled him in. Marrow has been trying to get out ever since.”

  I felt my knees go weak and I started to sway on my feet. Memories raced through my mind of all the times the sword had spoken to me, of the way it had shared spells with me. It’s intelligence and liveliness had been so far above other numen bonds, nothing at all like Eli and his wand.

  Marrow, I thought. It had been Marrow all along. Or had it? Bellanax was in there, too. Wasn’t it?

  “It took me a very long time to figure it out,” Deverell said, drawing my attention back to him. “I’d done everything right to revive Marrow. He trained me well what to do if he was killed. I sought out the Great Ouroboros, knowing he would need its power to speed up the process, and the black phoenix performed its part—resurrecting his body with its magic. Everything seemed to be working, but Marrow would not wake up. I performed nousdesmos with him and there was nothing there. He was an empty shell.”

  Deverell paused, his gaze dropping to Marrow for a moment. Then he looked back at me again. “I’d started to believe he might really be gone this time—that you had done the impossible an
d defeated him. But then you came to me for help, and I noticed the block on your mind. Marrow told me once it had been the same for him when he first claimed the sword. He did not know its name, but oh how he wanted to.”

  Just like me. My muscles clenched.

  “At first, I thought you bonding with the sword was evidence that Marrow was truly gone,” Deverell continued. “But I refused to give up hope. Not until I had a chance to see the sword myself. The Magi Senate had hidden it away. I knew I had to help you get past the block and complete the bond. After you saved Lyonshold, while you were lying unconscious, I convinced Lady Elaine to let me examine you and the sword. It was easy once she learned all I’d done to help you.” He paused, drawing a deep breath. “But the moment I touched it, I knew my master was not dead. I felt him there, dormant but no less powerful. It was then I realized what I needed to do to bring him back.”

  I thought I might be sick, shame burning in my belly. I’d fallen for it, fallen for everything. I’d been so easy to manipulate, so willing to trust.

  “But all this had taken a long time,” Deverell said. “Without its spirit, my master’s body began to decay. I had no choice but to steal the Death’s Heart to keep that part of him alive. And now, it’s time for you to make him whole again.” Deverell held the sword out to me.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I didn’t make a move toward the sword, even though every instinct I possessed was telling me to take it back. It belonged to me; we belonged together.

  “It’s simple.” Deverell motioned toward Marrow. “I want you to kill him with it again.”

  Kill him? My stomach clenched. I shifted my gaze to Marrow. Asleep he didn’t look at all scary, not how I knew he would be once restored to full life. This was a man bent on dominating the world. How could I willingly set him free? Assuming it would even work. The very notion that death would bring life seemed ludicrous.

  “Come on now, Dusty. A deal is a deal,” Deverell said, taking a step closer to me. “Once I restore Marrow to his full self, I will let you, your mother, and Eli go.”

  I clenched my teeth, knowing against all hope that he was lying. The last time I’d faced Marrow he’d made it quite clear that he couldn’t let a pair of dream-seers live, not if we weren’t using our powers for him. Deverell wouldn’t be any different.

  I looked away from him, down at Marrow. There had to be some way. There was always a way, wasn’t there?

  Bellanax. My eyes fixed on the sword. It was The Will sword, the most powerful magical object in existence. And Deverell was offering it back to me. He believed I would do it, that I would use the sword on Marrow to save my loved ones. But he was forgetting something crucial. While Marrow might have corrupted the sword’s magic from the inside, on the outside, it was still a sword—a weapon designed for killing.

  Oh, I would use it all right.

  On him.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, summoning all my courage. I would have to be quick. No hesitation. We were standing close enough I could reach him easily with that three feet of steel.

  “Okay,” I said. “Give it to me.”

  A confident smile snaked across Deverell’s face as he handed the sword over.

  My fingers closed around the hilt, and something clicked inside me, the reassurance of my bond with Bellanax. The sword surged to life, and its power began to flow into me. My own trapped magic didn’t matter. With this sword in my hands, I was invincible once more. All my fears drained away. Bellanax was here with me. To serve me, to defend and protect.

  But then another power reared up in the sword, something dark and equally strong—Marrow.

  The two powers struggled for dominance. For a moment, I was certain Bellanax would win, but in the next I sensed the dark power expanding, forcing out the light. I started to let go of the hilt, but I wasn’t fast enough. In an instant, the sword’s power turned against me—and took over. It was a feeling I’d experienced before. Once on Lyonshold and once in Deverell’s classroom. Possession.

  No. I fought against it, eyes squeezed shut. But it was like trying to stand in a rushing river. Without my own magic to cling to, my mind and will bent toward Marrow’s. Inch by inch the sword turned me away from Deverell and toward Marrow’s body, lying prone just ahead.

  I shifted the sword in my hand, pointing the blade downward. My gaze fell on the Red Warlock. His face was waxy in his long sleep, his body close to lifeless.

  I raised the hilt of the sword above my head, and then with one mighty thrust, I drove it down, burying the blade in Marrow’s chest.

  There was a loud burst of power as the sword connected with the Red Warlock. Magic exploded outward, making the ground shake and the walls tremble. Bits of rocks sprayed down from the ancient ceiling in a haze of dust. The black phoenix launched into the air, seeking a safer perch.

  I barely noticed. The sword was vibrating in my hands, making my whole body shake. Something was wrong. I could sense the sword’s fear—the real Bellanax, the true heart of the sword and numen vessel.

  I tried to pull the sword out, to save it, but the blade shattered.

  There was another explosion of magic, and Bellanax’s presence in my mind vanished. I held the hilt in my hand, but several inches above the cross guard, the blade ended in a jagged, diagonal line of shorn steel. The Will sword, the sword of power and ancient magic, indestructible and infallible, was broken.

  My eyes dropped to the body beneath me. One moment my heart pounded painfully against my breastbone, as if it were trying to force its way out, and in the next it stopped beating all together. The air in my lungs left me in a scream loud enough to make the walls tremble again.

  It wasn’t Marrow lying on the altar beneath me.

  It was Eli.

  He was awake, eyes open, and mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. Blood was spreading over his chest where the sword had pierced him, where even now half of Bellanax’s blade remained.

  28

  The Curse

  The world ended.

  I could feel it happening, a single moment stretching on into eternity. There would never be anything good again, nothing but this—Eli dying.

  By my hands.

  My knees gave way, and I collapsed beside him, dropping what remained of the sword. “Eli!” I screamed. “Eli!”

  It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. Marrow had been lying here, so real and solid. But then I saw the necklace around Eli’s throat—stiff like a choker, a green gem at its center, in between smooth, opaque teeth. It had all been an illusion, a horrible deadly charade. Even the Death’s Heart was gone. But if Eli had been here the whole time, where was Marrow?

  I turned to the altar across the way, the one where Eli had lain when I first arrived. Marrow occupied it now. He was slowly rising to his feet, the real Death’s Heart in his hand. It no longer glowed, but was a black lifeless thing once more.

  “Master,” Deverell said, stepping forward to help steady the older man. “Here, you’ll want this now that the sword is broken.”

  Marrow turned his clouded gaze onto the object Deverell was holding out to him. “The Borromean rings?” Marrow’s voice creaked like too-dry leather.

  “Yes, the true one. I have finally united them again.”

  Marrow dropped the Death’s Heart, tossing it aside like it held no more significance than a child’s toy. He extended his right hand and allowed Deverell to slide the ring into place on his index finger.

  “What did you do?” I screamed at Deverell, the sound choked by tears. My mind was beyond thinking, beyond anything but the horror expanding in my chest, threatening to suffocate the life from me.

  “There was one final piece of the sword lore I forgot to mention,” Deverell said, his voice mockingly casual. “The only way to free a spirit trapped in a blooded sword is to break the blade.” He paused, and the smile that crossed his lips might’ve been mistaken for sympathy if not for the cold glint in his eyes. “And the only way to break a sword of power is thr
ough an act of betrayal by its master.”

  Betrayal.

  “But … but I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. You made me do it. I didn’t know!”

  Deverell laughed. “You think intent matters in such things? That the magic can distinguish between what’s you and what’s the sword? It does not and it cannot. A physical act is a physical act. Murder is murder.”

  I looked back at Eli, flashes of Lady Elaine’s vision playing in my mind. The curse. “Oh, God, Eli.” I touched his face, fingers trembling. I didn’t know what to do. He was bleeding out. He was going to die.

  But he was still awake. A moan escaped his lips, and he reached for the blade in his chest, trying to wrench it out. He only succeeded in slicing his hands.

  “Stop it, Eli!” I grabbed his arms and forced him down. If he pulled the blade free he would only bleed out faster. I looked at Deverell and then Marrow. The latter was fully awake now, fully alive and returned.

  Thanks to me.

  “Help me,” I said.

  There was no pity in Marrow’s gaze as he turned it on me. No mercy. He no longer seemed confused by what was happening. Perhaps he wasn’t. He’d been present for the whole thing, trapped inside Bellanax.

  “Help me,” I said, pleading now. “I saved you. You owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing,” Marrow said. The creak in his voice was gone, replaced with the cold, firm surety of a man who’d lived and died a thousand times before. A man who feared nothing. Immortal and inhuman. “I gave you the chance to serve me once. Now you will serve no one.”

  I braced, waiting for him to kill me. Tremors rolled through my body in chaotic waves. But Marrow only stared at me a moment longer before turning his attention to Deverell. “You have done well.”

  Shock tore through me. He was going to let me live? It didn’t make sense. Only … without my dream-seer power, I was no threat to him—and Eli was already dying.

  A sob bubbled up in my chest, and I choked it off. I searched for my mother, hoping she could help now that the Death’s Heart spell was broken, but she was unmoving atop the altar. Asleep or dead, I couldn’t tell.