Terror comes without announcement. Something is very wrong with me. Why am I paralysed?
As if in a perverse answer to my question, my body begins to move. Through the air. I fall heavily to the ground and pain pulses hot and hard in my arm. I watch inanimately as the suited man bends down in front of me, asking questions I can’t hear, his phone gripped by white knuckles.
My twitching fingers tell me I’m regaining control of my body, but it’s too late. My mind slips away. I’ve had enough dreams by now to recognise the blackness that comes with them.
*
I find myself not in the cavern with the robes and the tied-up girl, but in a large chamber. It’s dark but I can see clearly as I stumble forward, pulled by a feeling I mistake for desperation. It’s only when I drop to my knees in front of a raised dais that I realise grief is the emotion crumpling my body.
“Please,” I rasp. “She’s not meant to die. She’s not meant …” I can’t finish, bursting into tears for a reason that’s beyond me.
I raise my head, vision blurring, to look at the man on the throne above me. I know instantly he’s Numen, a God. He’s twice the size of an ordinary man and there’s an aura around him. Darkness framed by light.
He speaks into my mind. I offer you a bargain.
“Anything,” I choke, tears coming fast. I try to close my mouth, to stop the words, but I’m detached from myself. I’m not in control of this grieving Yasmin. “I’ll do anything for you. Please just bring her back.”
The figure nods. Yes, you will do anything. Yes, I will give the girl back to you.
I look up, hopeful and dreading. The beast inside me is so silent that it must be dead. Now it’s just me, alone with the wild determination driving me. Someone should be here to stop me. I’m not thinking right. I know something bad will come of this but still—there’s not a shred of me that cares.
A life in return for the great power I have lost. Retrieve it for me, and I shall free your girl from this prison.
I reach up a hand, not sure what for, but I’m jerked back abruptly. It feels like I tumble into true, unadulterated darkness. I come to, gasping in a hospital bed and shaking with fright.
*
“What the hell, Yasmin?”
I throw an arm over my eyes. I want anything but to hear that voice right now.
“You’re going to explain what happened, in detail, or I’m going to tell Mavers you passed out in the middle of Callaire. He’ll pull you back to the Academy without a second thought.”
I avoid answering. “How long was I out?” I whisper, not wanting to speak at normal volume. Whispering is only half acknowledging his presence.
“Five hours.”
I pull my arm away, sitting up in shock. “Five hours? Are you serious?”
“Do I look,” Guy says, “like I’m joking?”
I avoid his glare, searching for my things. Hospitals make me jumpy. I’m paranoid they’ll discover what I am and lock me in a lab for the rest of my life to study me. My bag and clothes are dumped in my lap and I meet Guy’s eyes for a second. Under a thick mask of anger I swear there’s worry. It’s not the first time I’ve thought I’ve seen it, which probably makes it real. I feel horrible, and not because of the dream.
“I’m waiting outside,” he says, watching for any arguments from me. When he doesn’t get any, he adds, “And then I’m taking you home.”
I almost protest but I have no other way of getting home and I don’t want to stay in this hospital any longer. There’s also the small matter of me feeling like the worst person in the world, and the obvious fact that Guy’s been here for five hours waiting for me to wake up.
I dress quickly and meet him outside. “Don’t I need to be discharged or something?”
He heads for the exit. “Do I look like I care?”
“Okay. Well. Thanks—for taking me home.”
“No problem.” He wrenches a door open and holds it for me, his hand a fist around the handle. Guy is seriously pissed at me and I’m not sure what I can do to fix it. It’s an entirely new feeling to want to fix it, instead of ignoring it like I usually do.
When I’m in the car, the heater warming my cold limbs, it takes me a minute to realise Guy is staring expectantly at me, and to remember what he wants.
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve been hearing a voice. And having weird dreams that aren’t mine. That’s what happened in town—I had a dream. I don’t know whether it was mine or someone else’s, but it was weird.”
“What happened?” His hands loosen slightly on the steering wheel, and he starts the car.
“I think I made a deal with a Numen.”
His head whips around to stare at me. I feel pressured into pointing out, “In a dream! It wasn’t real.”
“You know the power of dreams, Yasmin.”
“But … it wasn’t me. I wasn’t in control, and I was … I think I was grieving. I said ‘bring her back.’”
“Hmm.” The headlights sweep across the empty street as he pulls out of the hospital car park. “You’d better hope it was just a dream. What about the voice?”
I shake my head. The voice is too personal. It’s my hope, my answers. The resounding click of the doors locking makes me jolt. “What the hell?”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “You’re not getting out until you’ve told me everything.”
“If you want to torture me, you could use the good old fashioned methods. Suffocate me with Akasha, surround me with fire, I don’t care.”
“I’m not trying to torture you.” He’s genuinely puzzled. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Why?” I yank the ring from my finger and chew it hard enough to dent. Guy isn’t the only one pissed off now.
He lets out a growl that’s pathetic in comparison to my own and lets the car roll to the side of the road. Running his hands over his face, he says, “Are you really that clueless?”
“Clearly,” I bite back.
Guy shifts until he’s fully facing me, and my insides writhe with discomfort. He turns away a minute later, disappointed.
He drives me home without another word.
TEN
THE GIFT
I’m barely home an hour before someone hammers down my door. I glare down my intruder, heedless of my fluffy top or bunny-patterned pyjama bottoms.
“Oh,” I say, losing steam. I stand for a second, staring in confusion. “Did something happen?”
“No.” Guy leans against the doorframe, looking more tired than usual. He holds up a silver cord necklace, a pendant spinning on it. A glass ball is suspended inside a gold ring, Akasha clearly visible inside it. I stare at the combination of the five elements—earth, fire, air, water, and spirit. It looks like a tempest in a marble, black smoke constantly in movement with slivers of fire like lightning bolts running through it.
“What—”
“It’s a talisman for malevolent forces—to prevent mind invasion. It’ll keep the visions and voices away. I figured it’d be useful.”
“You’re giving me this?” I watch the tiny storm sceptically.
He nods.
I take the pendant. “Did you make this?”
Guy snorts. “You think I made a talisman so quickly? Do you really think I’m that powerful?”
Still looking at the Akasha, I deadpan, “Yes.”
“Fine.”
I can’t look at him—he’d see the tears pricking my eyes. I’d like to blame it on the emotional day I’ve had, but the only reason I’m close to tears is because Guy made this for me. “Why did you bring me this?” I ask quietly, trying to hide the weakness in my voice. “I don’t understand. You hate me.”
“I do not.” He sounds offended, angry. I daren’t raise my eyes. “Yasmin, look at me.” When I don’t he grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. “I don’t hate you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep the tears off my face.
He release
s my chin and whispers, “You idiot. When I was younger I was jealous of you. You spoke to Venus—”
“Twice!” I hardly had weekly chats with her.
“You still got to speak to her, to see her. I never did. I envied you so much for that. You knew what she looked like, what she sounded like. I never had that.”
“Sorry.”
“Shut up. It doesn’t matter anymore. I was stupid. I blamed you for something you had no control over. It wasn’t your fault our mother granted you dreams. I realised that years ago.”
“But—”
“For Numina’s sake, Yasmin, will you let me talk?” I shut my mouth. “By the time I realised what a dick I was being, it was too late to apologise to you.”
“It’s n—” I press my lips together. Apparently I have issues with letting other people talk.
Guy fights a smile. “I never had a chance to apologise. Every time I entered a room you left it, and any time we were actually in the same room you blanked me. I understand why now.”
He sighs, curling and uncurling his fingers into fists. “I don’t think I ever actually hated you. Well, maybe for a week when I was eleven, but I hated everyone that week.”
“Was that the week you broke the door?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re meant to be keeping quiet. But yeah, that was the week I broke the door. Anyway, long story short—you thought I hated you, I thought you hated me, and I never had the balls to apologise for being a shitty brother.”
It seems unreal. I know everyone insisted Guy gave a crap about me but I thought they were just seeing what they wanted. I fold my fingers over the Akasha pendant, not sure what to think.
“Why now?”
He looks down the hall, away from me. “You’re suffering. It’s horrible to watch.”
“You wanted to know about the voice.” I guide the conversation away from my suffering. I don’t know what he means by it. “It’s a girl. I think she might be Psychic like me.”
“Have you talked to her?”
I put the necklace around my neck and tell him I don’t dare reply to her. The Akasha is pleasantly warm against the hollow of my throat. “Thanks for the talisman.”
He grunts in reply. “You should come to the Academy. Sunday.”
“Dinner with those assholes? No thanks.”
“That’s mildly offensive. I’m one of ‘those assholes’. And I bet dinner with the Red would keep Minnie off your back for a few days …” He turns, a smug smirk on his face.
“That’s borderline blackmail,” I say.
He throws me a smile and a shrug, and then he’s gone through the door. I stare at the hallway for minutes, wondering what just happened.
ELEVEN
THE DEVIL REVERSED
The moon is visible even though it’s daylight. I watch it without resentment or wariness. It’s only half full, which means the Manticore is at its least powerful. This is the closest thing I have to complete control over my beast.
But I don’t feel in control at all. The hunters have started canvassing Almery Wood again, even though Persuasion makes them forget about us. Whatever beast they’re hunting, it’s not Legendary. But they’re still a danger to us; if they’re in the woods at the full moon, someone else might be shot.
I lean against the window in my living room, perched on the windowsill.
I made an effort with my appearance today. I figured if I’m going to mend some bridges with the Red, the first step would be bothering to get dressed up. Still, I’m not in finery. I wouldn’t want the Numina to think I was dressing for them.
Sunday dinner is an ordinary affair everywhere but at the Academy. Legendaries, or at least the Legendaries I’ve known, use Sunday dinner to show appreciation of the Numina. It’s half tribute, half ritual, and I haven’t done it in years.
A loud and obnoxious beep draws my eye to the pavement where a turquoise car waits. It’s flashy and shiny, clearly an expensive classic. Making a face, I leave the window and grab my coat.
“Subtle,” I say, locking the building behind me. “There’s this little thing called the Legend Mirror that we’re supposed to keep secret by not drawing attention to ourselves.”
Vic ruffles his auburn hair. “Relax. This is completely human.”
I slide into the car, giving him a look that says just how unamused I am.
As he drives away, he says, “Besides, this car is worth risking the Shadow Ministry’s wrath.”
No it isn’t, I think. He hasn’t seen the robes; he doesn’t know how much they can scare you. “Whose is it, anyway?” I ask.
“Harriet’s.”
I stare at him, disbelieving. “Harriet’s? But she’s thirteen!”
“A gift from her grandmother.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Harriet’s grandmother deigns to acknowledge her existence but what about the rest of us, always craving a favour from our Legendary parents? “Where the hell is my car?”
“In the shop.”
I throw a glare. “Hilarious.”
“That’s me. Funny, sweet, and good looking.”
I look at the passing street. “How did your date go?”
“Let’s put it this way: I’m no longer a free man.” He even goes so far as to puff out his chest, which looks ludicrous.
“And when do we get to meet this lady of yours?”
Vic smiles. Despite his joking and bravado, his cheeks are tinged red. He must really like this girl. “Matronalia. You’re coming to that, right?”
“No.” I slide lower in the seat, hoping it’ll swallow me. I might be giving my old friends a chance by visiting the Academy more often but I’m not attending a party.
He pulls the car into the Academy courtyard and turns pleading eyes on me. “Please?”
“No.”
“Do you remember how you avoided us for the past two years? How you haven’t spoken to me at all? I felt abandoned—tortured!—heartbroken.” His almost-convincing sadness turns sly. “Coming to the Matronalia party would totally make up for that.”
He gets out of the car and says, over his shoulder, “Bring a date.”
I sit, stunned, in the leather seat and blink at his disappearing form for seconds before I shake myself out of it. I slam the door behind me. I’m ninety percent sure I was just emotionally blackmailed.
*
“Mavers wants to see you,” Harriet says as I come into the kitchen. She sits on a stool, weaving her dark hair into a fishtail braid. “He’s in his study.”
“Thanks.” The kitchen is weirdly deserted. It was always full when I lived here. “I left your car outside. I didn’t know what to do with it—I can’t drive.”
“Neither can I.” She shrugs. “Someone will move it, probably.”
“Right.” I force a smile, walking to Mavers’s study. Harriet doesn’t even care about the car. It stings, that I’ve never received a gift from Venus but Harrie’s grandmother bestows her with something as big as a car. Now I get why Guy envied me for years; this feeling sucks.
I knock on the mahogany of Mavers’s office door. He swings it open with a wide smile. “I had a feeling it was you.”
His study has changed since the last time I was here. It’s been painted a deeper shade of red, accented with gold. It feels like a study some Royal might have had in the twentieth century. Well, except for the bows. The walls have been covered with bows in all shapes, sizes, and wood types. Quivers are lined above a bookshelf along the back wall, the light from the window throwing odd rays of light across everything.
“Woah,” I say.
He rocks on his heels, pleased. “Collecting bows has become an obsession.” He takes the nearest bow from the wall—a pale wood engraved with figures and symbols that’s as tall as I am. “There’s a myth that Mars left behind his Legendary bow after the Battle of Hastings, and that finding it will grant you a one-time meeting with the Numen himself. I’ve been collecting these for years now, in the hopes of finding it.”
I wander around the room, eyeing each of them. There’s a cherry wood bow carved to look like it’s twisted. In the centre, where the wood has been worn down by handling, two stars are engraved. They’d be completely ordinary in any other building, except this bow is in a Legendary home, and I don’t believe in coincidence. I run my finger over the marks.
“The morning star and the evening star,” Mavers murmurs, confirming my thoughts. “Venus.”
I turn my back on it. “Why did you want to see me? It wasn’t to show me all this ….”
“Ah, I had forgotten.” He perches on his desk, enthusiasm replaced by seriousness. “I was granted a meeting with the Shadow Ministry. I went to them last night. The Numina are in disagreement about whether to help us. The majority seem to be willing to aid us, but enough Numina disagreed aggressively.”
“Was anyone hurt?” I ask quickly. When the Numina are pissed, people die. I think of the empty kitchen and start to freak.
“No. Not yet.”
I exhale in relief.
“But if this continues, people will be killed, Legendary and Pure alike.”
I know what will come—war, death, obliteration. “What do we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. The Numina have to sort this out themselves. I wanted you to know first because Venus is one of the Numina opposing the decision to aid us. They assaulted Ceres.”
I swear loudly. “Does Guy know?”
“Yes. I told him not long before you got here.”
I nod, glad he’s been warned. When two Numina disagree, their children are often targeted out of spite. If this conflict goes on, someone will be killed, either as a result of the animosity in the Legend Mirror or because they’ve been assassinated. Guy and I are at the top of the to-be-killed list.
Mavers comes to my side. “If it comes to it, there’ll be a divide among the Numina. We have Gods on our side, and quite a few Creatures. You’ll be protected, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worrying.”
“Of course.” His smile says he’s just indulging me, but I didn’t lie. I’m not worrying, exactly. Not about this. There’s too much to worry about already that I can’t even digest this right now. “Go find Minnie,” he says. “She’ll be looking for you, I’m sure.”
The Beast of Callaire Page 5