“Frangere!” I said. The breaking spell struck the shape-changer in the chest, but he only grunted, the thick, tough hide of his new shape protecting him.
Corvus recovered enough to throw a dazing curse at him, but like my breaking spell, it had little effect. Deverell was slower in this body, but his size and strength made up for it. He lunged for Corvus with a bearlike movement. Corvus shuffled back, just escaping the assault.
“Ana-agra!” I heard Paul cry from behind me. I turned to see that he struggled to a standing position, all the weight on his uninjured leg. The spell hit the shape-changer, but as the silver ropes began to appear, he widened his arms and legs, using sheer physical will to keep the magic from binding him.
“No you don’t!” I shouted. “Ana-agra!” A second set of binding ropes appeared around Deverell. Half a breath later, Corvus cast the spell as well. Beneath the power of the three spells, the shape-changer’s strength finally gave way. The magic drew his hands and feet together, and it was all he could do to stay upright.
Corvus strode toward him, once again seizing him by the throat. The shape-changer’s form blurred for a second time. I half-expected him to turn into Corvus and make a twisted play for mercy, but instead he reverted to his Deverell shape. Fear sparkled in his eyes. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but Corvus only tightened his grip. For a moment, I thought he meant to strangle Deverell to death.
But then Corvus drew back his right hand, still holding Deverell’s neck with the other. He pointed at the shape-changer’s face. “This is for my brothers, you son of a bitch. Luo-dikho!”
Strangling would’ve been better, cleaner.
The asunder curse struck Deverell dead center. His body ripped apart in a spray of blood, tissue, and bone. Then the two halves of him crumbled to the floor with wet, meaty thumps.
All the light in the cave vanished, and darkness descended like curtains. But it was too late to block out what I’d seen. My gorge rose, and I choked it down.
Corvus spoke an incantation into the darkness, and light reappeared, the same glowing orbs that Deverell had used. With the shape-changer’s mangled body once more in view, I turned away, my arms and legs trembling. I was too sickened to be relieved about Deverell’s demise. I almost forgot where I was, what I should be doing. Then I spotted Marrow lying in the distance, and I forced my feet to propel me forward.
“Dusty, look out!” Selene shouted.
Too late I saw the massive form of the black phoenix diving my way. Several spells struck it, one from Selene, one from Corvus. Even Paul had taken aim at it from where he stood, leaning against one of the altars. It didn’t matter. The black phoenix was either immune or too focused on its goal to care. Its talons closed around my shoulders, piercing flesh and muscle. I shrieked as it pulled me into the air. Agony shot down my arms and back.
“Dusty!” This time it was Paul shouting.
The black phoenix carried me across the circle toward Marrow then let go. The fall wasn’t far but I landed hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Panicking with the need to breathe, I couldn’t fight the hands that closed around my arms, hoisting me to my feet. The renewed pain in my shoulder drove off the haze from the fall, and I let out an involuntary scream.
“Don’t struggle,” Marrow spoke into my ear. His familiar had delivered me to him like a cat with a dead mouse. A shudder passed through my body.
Suddenly aware of the serrated knife at my throat, I forced myself to still.
Everyone else had frozen as well, all except for the black phoenix, flying in calm, sweeping circles above us now.
“You all understand how this works,” Marrow said, pushing me forward. “I will be leaving, and so long as you stay there and don’t try to stop me, Dusty will live. If you try to stop me, she will die and the rest of you will follow.”
It wasn’t a hollow threat. He might be weaker than the last time I faced him, but he remained impossibly strong, his magic coming off him like an electrical current. Combined with the Borromean ring’s protection he was as formidable as ever.
“Do what he says,” I said, fixing my gaze on Corvus. Of all of them, he remained the biggest threat to Marrow. My mother was standing next to him, and although her face spoke of murder, she didn’t have the strength to back it up. She looked ready to collapse at a single puff of wind.
I shifted my gaze to Eli. He was still sitting up, leaning heavily on one hand, the other clutching Bellanax. There was something odd in his expression. He looked far away. Fading away. Terror clawed at my thoughts.
“Please let him go,” I said, once again addressing Corvus. And hurry, I silently added, tears burning my eyes. Eli was still alive, but each second, each desperate beat of his heart, only drove him closer to the end. The life was seeping out of him in visceral display. Blood soaked his chest and the altar beneath him.
“Okay,” Corvus said. “Go.”
“There’s a good Nightmare,” Marrow said, and then grabbing me by the shoulder, he pulled me back with him, edging us toward the wall. I kept my eyes on Eli. I didn’t care if Marrow escaped so long as Eli lived. My heartbeat counted out the seconds. How much longer did he have?
“Dusty,” Eli called, and his voice was so weak I barely heard him.
“Don’t talk, Eli. Please don’t talk.”
He raised his hand, the one holding Bellanax. “This is still yours,” he said, and then with all the strength he had left in him, he hurled the sword into the air.
It was an impossible throw, an impossible distance. But this was no ordinary sword, and Eli no ordinary boy. The sword flew through the air, spinning hilt over jagged blade. Time seemed to slow around me, around everything except the sword that flew with a singular purpose. I raised my hand, fingers outstretched, and Bellanax soared into it, the hilt landing in my palm like it had always been there.
The moment my skin brushed it, the bond between girl and sword, between magickind and numen vessel, knitted into place, like ligaments binding two bones into a single joint. The spirit in the sword was weak, only half-present, but our connection remained strong. Bellanax reached for control and I gave into it, lending the sword strength. This was the Bellanax from Lyonshold, the one who had saved the island and everyone on it. And now it would save me.
With the sword guiding my movements, I spun toward Marrow. His hand still held the knife, but he didn’t have the same skill with a traditional weapon that he did with magic. I knocked the knife aside with Bellanax’s jagged blade. The Borromean ring couldn’t protect him now. I was too close, within its sphere of magic. I plunged the sword straight into Marrow’s heart.
His eyes widened, and his lips spread as if he meant to laugh like he had the last time I’d stabbed him with this sword. But he didn’t laugh. Death was too quick. With one, mighty shudder, the muscles in his body seized, then let go. He dropped to the floor. I kept hold of Bellanax, pulling the blade free as he fell. I didn’t want his spirit trapped this time.
I looked down at Marrow’s dead body, any thrill I’d felt vanishing at once. Already smoke billowed up around the corpse. The resurrection process had begun. The black phoenix screeched from on high. I looked up, my hope extinguishing.
This had to end. He had to die once and for all. But how? The bird was infallible. It had been hit with spells a half-dozen times, but it looked as sure and steady as ever. Maybe we could keep it away, never allow it to reclaim Marrow’s spirit. But for how long? Eli didn’t have time.
Screeching again, the black phoenix dove toward me. I knew it wouldn’t stop, not until it had driven me away. I could either run or die. I stood my ground, Bellanax hot in my hand.
Something collided with the bird midflight, a human-like object. For a second, I thought it was Selene, then I saw it was a boy with white, underdeveloped wings, thin and malformed rising out of his shoulder blades.
Paul, I realized, bewildered. Paul, who was half wizard, half siren. Like Selene. Only unlike her, he had never learned to use hi
s wings. He couldn’t really fly, not much more than that first initial launch that had brought him soaring into the black phoenix’s path. But it had been enough. He latched onto the bird’s back as if he were trying to ride it like a dragon. The black phoenix was big, but not big enough to bear his weight. It had flown all the way to the ceiling, hundreds of feet above in its attempt to dislodge him, but now they were falling back to the ground.
Paul didn’t even try to fly, his wings limp things streaming behind him. Instead he shifted his grip until both hands held the thin, hollow bone at the top of the black phoenix’s wing. He gripped it—then yanked up, forcing the bone to bend in a way it was never meant to.
The black phoenix’s cry drowned out the sound of the wing snapping. The bird twisted hard, body jerking convulsively. Paul’s grip loosened. He started to slide, only to have the bird catch him as it turned. It wrapped its talons around his waist in a perverse sort of a hug. Paul hugged it back, his hands around its neck. He twisted as hard as he had with the wing. The black phoenix’s body went rigid, and what had been a restrained descent turned into a straight plummet.
I tried to slow them down, but they were too heavy and the velocity too great. They struck the ground together in one deafening crack. They lay as they landed, boy and bird entwined, and did not move.
“Paul!” I rushed over to him but slowed as I drew near. The black phoenix was clearly dead, its head thrown back on its broken neck, its lifeless eyes like dull, black stones.
And Paul …
I turned away from his limp, shattered form, gasping. Hopeless despair pressed down on me. He’d died saving me from the black phoenix. He’d killed the mythical bird, but what did it matter? The creature was eternal. It would resurrect. So would Marrow. Only his foes truly died, never him. He would—
The thought halted in my mind, overtaken by the sudden realization that something had changed. Marrow’s body was no longer smoking. There was no sign of fire, no sign of life.
I turned and looked back at the black phoenix. It, too, showed no sign of life, no hint of the magical flames that would resurrect it.
My mother staggered toward me. “Is it possible?” Her voice rose in shock, hopeful but afraid.
I glanced at Corvus. His gaze shifted between Marrow and the black phoenix over and over again. Then finally, he gave a single, slow nod. In my hand, I felt Bellanax’s answering agreement.
“He’s gone,” Moira said. She turned to me. “He’s gone.”
I didn’t reply. I wanted to be happy, to be relieved, but I couldn’t. Paul was dead, and Eli—
My heart lurched into my throat. Eli. I spun around and raced over to him. “Eli!” He lay motionless on the altar, on his back once more, eyes closed. The broken blade still rose out of his chest. There was so much blood it looked as if the stone was bleeding along with him. But that was just an illusion. The blood was all his, all him—his life leaking out with every precious red drop.
It had leaked and leaked until he finally ran dry. I knew it without checking for a pulse or a breath. I could feel the absence of him as if a piece of myself had been ripped away. I collapsed next to him, cupping his head in my arms.
We had beaten Marrow, but the price was too high. Unbearable.
Eli Booker was dead.
30
Death Like Sleep
I cried.
Every fiber of my being wept, every muscle clenching and unclenching, spasms of despair and heartbreak. It was pointless, an empty gesture, but it was all I had left.
Eli was dead. I would never hear his voice again or feel his fingers on my skin. I would never taste his dreams, so sweet and perfect. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, death a masquerade of sleep on his face. But he wasn’t dreaming. There was no fictus. There was nothing but the absence of everything.
“Dusty.” A gentle hand touched the top of my head. “Come on, Dusty. We have to get out of here.”
“No.” I didn’t look at my mother. I couldn’t bear to take my gaze off Eli, knowing that this was the last time I would ever see him. Despite the ashen color of his skin and the caked blood around his mouth, he was still beautiful. I wished I could see his eyes, if only to memorize forever their unique shade of blue.
“He’s gone, Dusty,” my mother said, her fingers at my shoulder now. “You’ve got to let him go.”
“No!” I shook her off, fury bubbling up inside me like acid.
“Your mother is hurt, Dusty,” Corvus said from somewhere behind me. “So is Selene. They need your help to get out of here.”
Guilt squeezed my chest, and I looked up at my mother. Her face was nearly as ashen as Eli’s, deep black divots beneath her eyes. The Death’s Heart had nearly killed her.
The Death’s Heart.
Blood began to pound in my ears. I still held Bellanax in my hand, the hilt warm in my palm. A tiny thread of the sword’s spirit remained, more echo than voice, but I touched it with my mind, seeking reassurance—and knowledge.
Once again, and for the last time, Bellanax told me what I needed to know. I stood up, summoning all the strength I had left. I was tired and sore, my shoulders aching from where the black phoenix had wounded me, but I had to push past that just long enough to accomplish this task. The others would try to stop me. I had to take care of them before they could.
“Hupno-drasi!” I aimed the sleeping spell at Corvus. The attack took him by surprise. His eyes widened with shock, but he was asleep before his body struck the ground.
“What are you doing?” my mom asked, taking a step back from me.
I pointed Bellanax at her. “What I have to. You need to dream-feed. Selene and Corvus will need your magic to help them get out of here.”
“Dusty, what are you saying?” Selene ambled toward me. Her wings trailed behind her. I doubted she could retract them with the damage to the left one. She was pale, like my mother, but still strong enough to put up a fight if she had to. And I knew she would, once she realized what I intended to do.
“I’m sorry, Selene, but I’ve got to do this. Hupno-drasi!” As with Corvus, she hadn’t anticipated the attack, not from me, her best friend. She crumpled to the ground, deeply asleep and already dreaming. I hated the betrayal, but she would understand if the situation were reversed, if it had been Lance lying on that altar instead of Eli and she had been responsible.
“Stop this, Destiny,” my mom shrieked. I’d never heard her sound like that, as if she were being rent apart from the inside out. For a second it was almost enough to stop me.
“I can’t, Mom.” Then turning my back to her, I walked over to the altar where Marrow disguised as Eli had lain when I first arrived. It seemed like years ago, an eternity. The Death’s Heart had fallen behind the altar, nearly invisible in the shadows. I picked it up, my skin crawling at the slick, dense feel of it.
“You drop that now,” my mom said, one hand pointed at me. It was an empty threat. She didn’t have enough magic or physical strength to stop me—and we both knew it. But that didn’t keep her from trying. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.” Her voice broke on a sob.
I closed my eyes and drew a breath, fighting back my own tears. I didn’t want to hurt her, but—“I have to do this, Mom. I can’t … I can’t live knowing I killed him. And I can’t live knowing I could’ve saved him.”
My mom was crying in earnest now, her breathing jagged and her expression broken.
I didn’t relent. I had to make her understand. “If you want to stop me, you’ll have to kill me yourself. Either way I die, but at least this way, Eli will get to live.”
She wasn’t convinced—I could read it in her face—but I saw the fight slowly slipping out of her. She glanced at Corvus. As with Selene, fictus was coming off of him in waves, and she was hungry. Without a word, she turned toward Corvus. For a second, I was shocked by her compliance, but then I realized her plan. She would recharge her magic and stop me.
I was willing to let her try. It didn’t matte
r. Only Eli mattered, and this heavy, gruesome object in my hand. With Bellanax’s help, I would turn its evil power for good.
As my mom got in position over Corvus, I hurried over to Eli. I climbed on top of the altar, settling my knees on either side of his waist. I held the Death’s Heart in my left hand and Bellanax in my right. Closing my eyes, I listened as the sword showed me how to turn on the Death’s Heart, and how to channel its power the way I needed it to flow—my life for Eli’s. Instead of draining his vital essence, I would pour mine into him.
The Death’s Heart began to glow, red light oozing out of it like liquid blood. At once I felt the pull of it. It was like the pull of a dream, only deeper and heavier, a descent into darkness instead of the multicolor explosion of light and fictus. Terror, like in the split second before a car crash, came over me. But it was too late to change my mind, too late to let go.
And I didn’t want to. I was a fire being snuffed out by the wind. I could feel it happening, my limbs growing heavy as my heart slowed. I became terribly aware of my breathing. It, too, was slowing down, each in-and-out of my lungs a greater effort than it had ever been before. I didn’t fight it; I couldn’t. It was like falling asleep, inescapable and welcome. Darkness swept over me. My vision dimmed. My muscles relaxed, and I fell forward.
I fell down … down … down into oblivion.
* * *
The cave was dark, the only light a scattering of glowing orbs, the magic inside them weakening by the second. But the two apparitions hovering above the stone altar could see easily, their spirits’ eyes possessing a greater spectral range than their physical bodies had ever known.
“Is this a dream?” the girl asked, turning her gaze on the boy. She was young and slender with red hair and eyes mirror-bright in the darkness.
The Nightmare Charade Page 31