by Dima Zales
“Does this sound like a normal request?” I growl. “They’re going to want to know what just happened, why I just emerged from the sewer with Nessie on my tail, trying to tell them the truth about who’s kill—”
He holds up a hand. “I’ll take you there.”
With a wary glance at me, he heads for the castle. I follow, doing my best to shake off the worst of the slime clinging to me before we reach the familiar door into the coliseum where the Council meets.
“They’ll be upset if you just barge in,” the monk says, wrinkling his nose. “And not just because of your smell.”
I shrug, and trying not to breathe too deeply, I step into the Council chambers.
Chapter Forty-Four
Kain is standing in the center of the amphitheater, the place usually reserved for whoever’s in trouble.
“I suggest we vote,” Nina is saying. “Those in—”
“I know who the murderer is,” I announce loudly.
All heads turn toward me.
Kain sniffs the air and looks half perplexed, half horrified. I open my mouth to say more when someone pushes me out of the way. I stagger and look around.
No one’s visible.
My pulse spikes into the stratosphere.
Hekima. He’s here.
Chapter Forty-Five
Instantly, my surroundings change.
I’m still in an amphitheater, only one a thousand times larger than where the Council meets. It looks like the Colosseum in Rome, only brand new. Confirming the Rome connection, screaming people appear in the seats. They look like extras in a movie about gladiators.
The emperor rises. It’s Hekima, dressed in a purple toga, with a gold laurel wreath perched on top of his frizzy gray curls.
He’s looking down at me, his dark eyes filled with genuine sadness. “You remind me of Siti,” he says in a warm, grandfatherly tone. “I wish I could let you live, but you know too much. It’s me or you—basically self-defense.”
My upper lip curls. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. If Siti were alive, she’d be ashamed of you.”
He looks as if I’ve punched him. Stiffening, he sinks onto his imperial seat, and an expression of concentration appears on his face. He must be showing illusions to the members of the Council.
The crowd cheers as though a rock star just walked onstage. I look down. My filthy clothing is gone, replaced with a hybrid of armor and a bikini—apparently Hekima’s dirty fantasy of what a gladiatrix would wear.
I scowl up at him. “I know this costume is an illusion, but it makes no sense as battle gear.” I slide my hand over my exposed cleavage. “It’s basically daring someone to stab me in the heart.”
As if in reply, the doors leading to the stage burst open and a puck saunters out.
It’s an illusion. I know that. There can be no pucks on Earth. Hekima is making me see that hairy body, the horns and the hoofed feet. In the real world, this is someone from the Council, or maybe no one at all. Yet the sights, sounds, and even smells are exactly as if I were at the real Colosseum facing a goat-reeking puck. Not that I have much room to talk—though now that I’m in Hekima’s illusion, I can’t smell my own funk.
The monster opens its mouth, flashing a grill a shark would envy and bathing me in the stench of decomposing meat.
The crowd goes wild.
Is pain one of the senses illusionists can control? Will it feel real when those teeth tear at my flesh?
The puck lunges at me and tries to punch me in the mouth. I dodge and strike at his sternum. I miss—yet I don’t see how I could have. Either I’m fighting someone smaller than a puck, or there’s no one around me at all.
The puck smashes a fist into my face.
Ouch.
That hurt, and my lip feels genuinely split. Either there’s a real person fighting me, or Hekima’s powers are megastrong.
I dodge another swing, then another. My face stings, but not proportionally to how much it would hurt if a real puck hit me—they’re incredibly powerful. Since I see no reason Hekima would hold back on illusory pain, I conclude that my opponent is real and isn’t super-strong. I guess that’s good. Still, I need to finish this battle before my opponent inevitably uses his or her Council-level powers.
The puck sweeps my feet. I jump over his hoof and throw a punch at his throat. My hand connects with flesh that feels more like a jawbone than neck. The puck staggers and falls down.
Yeah, right. No way a puck would be bested by such a hit.
The crowd goes wild.
The doors fly open again, and a monster more terrifying than a puck ambles out.
It’s a drekavac, a creature that kills by causing unspeakable pain.
I stagger back. Just looking at the thing is painful. It’s a nightmarish, insectoid wraith with too many tentacles and teeth.
Then something dawns on me.
If Hekima wants this encounter to seem realistic, he’ll use someone with the power to kill with a single touch.
Blood drains from my face.
There’s a Councilor perfectly suited for this, one whose touch causes gangrene.
Gertrude.
Chapter Forty-Six
“I can’t fight Gertrude!” I scream, in case Hekima cares.
He doesn’t.
I back away and do my best to strategize. Even if I land a punch, I’ll lose.
The drekavac charges and whips at me with a tentacle.
I dodge.
Shrieking, the monster sends another tentacle my way.
I leap to the side but barely miss getting touched.
There has to be something more effective I can do, some way to penetrate this illusion.
Another tentacle strike, another dodge.
A chat with Pom suddenly pops into my mind. He once claimed that if he were awake, he could show me what Valerian really looks like, based on the assumption that an illusionist wouldn’t think to target my symbiont.
Two tentacles go for me at once, and I perform a backflip to get away. The crowd cheers.
The problem is that Pom must be awake to see through my eyes, and he sleeps all the time. Unless—
Pom, I mentally shout as I dodge yet another tentacle strike. Pom, wake up!
Nothing happens. A tentacle lashes at my legs, and I jump over it.
Pom! Pom! Pom!
“What’s with the shouting?” Pom says groggily in my head.
I’m inside an illusion, I mentally shout. Need you to see through it, or we both die!
“Should’ve led with that.” He sounds much more awake. “How’s this?”
The world flashes with every color of the rainbow, and I barely dodge the next tentacle strike. When the swirl settles, I do my best to make sense of the visual confusion. The Colosseum isn’t gone, but it looks a bit ghostly.
Then I realize it’s actually overlaid with reality, a reality that looks odd. The edges of objects are fuzzy, and something strange is going on with colors. For instance, I see an orc fighting Colton the giant, but instead of the orc being green, both fighters are monochrome.
Puck, that’s not an orc. It’s Kit. Hekima is having her fight for her life, and Pom doesn’t like it. Neither do I. I bet all that black is Pom’s feelings seeping into my perception.
Whoosh. A ghostly tentacle flies at my face, only now I see that the tentacle isn’t a tentacle at all. It is, as I suspected, Gertrude’s arm. Fingers outstretched, she’s trying to touch my cheek in the real world.
I sidestep and grab her arm near the elbow, where her sleeve protects my hand from her skin. I’m not sure what she’s seeing in her own version of Hekima’s illusion, but it must be something terrible because her face contorts with fear.
This won’t help matters.
I twist her arm behind her back and pull hard. She drops to her knees, crying out in pain. I grab hold of one of my slimy shoes and club Gertrude with the makeshift weapon. There’s no way I’m risking a touch again, even if it’s only her hair.
She claws at me with her free hand, so I smack her again and again. My arm muscles burn, but I accomplish my goal.
Gertrude collapses.
This is when I notice who else is lying unconscious nearby.
Felix.
He must’ve recovered from his blood-induced fainting spell, only to fall under Hekima’s influence. He must’ve been the “puck” I fought. No wonder his punches didn’t hurt much—and no wonder I was able to win. He’s a little sensitive about it, but Felix’s powers aren’t useful in hand-to-hand combat.
I rush over and check his vitals. He’ll probably have a headache, but he’ll be fine—and his headache isn’t going to be half as bad as Gertrude’s. I glance back to see how Kit is doing and see her morph from an orc into a giant much bigger than Colton. She raises a massive fist in an arc so wide, she knocks a couple of nearby Councilors off their feet. Pow! She smashes that fist into Colton’s temple.
He roars in pain. Poor dude. I bet his headache’s going to be even worse than Gertrude’s.
Someone needs to stop this madness. The real Hekima is on the other side of the room with a wall of Councilors between him and anyone wishing to cause him harm. Everyone in his line of defense shows grim determination; they must each be experiencing illusions in which they’re protecting someone or something they care about. There goes my hope of knocking him out.
I recognize some of the defenders—Isis and Chester—and note that not a single one of them is among those Hekima still wants to get revenge on.
I soon see why.
Nina, standing a stone’s throw from me, raises her hands with a look of concentration. The stone benches where the Councilors usually sit rip out of the ground, break apart, and begin zooming all over the room.
I dodge one, then another—but not all the Councilors are so fortunate. Unlike me, they can’t see what’s real. At least four get hit in the head. I can’t help but notice they’re all on Hekima’s kill list.
Two benches fly in Hekima’s direction, giving me hope that his revenge may backfire. But no. A bench that seemed to be flying at Chester lands an inch away from him. How lucky for Chester—and Hekima, by extension. The other bench lands in front of the wall of Councilors, hitting Vickie on the head.
Isis shoots an arc of golden energy at the siren, healing her instantly.
Is Hekima being nice to the siren because she’s not on his list? Nah, that’s giving him too much credit. The real reason becomes apparent a moment later. Gulping in a large breath of air, Vickie shrieks at a nearby Councilor on the list, and two seconds later, only the man’s skeleton remains.
Puck. What do I do? I can’t get to Hekima, and if Nina keeps flinging those benches around, I might get knocked out too.
I sweep my gaze over the room for ideas and spot Ariel fighting Kain. There’s too much hatred on their faces for two people who don’t know each other—Hekima’s illusions in action again.
Ariel smashes a fist into Kain’s ear. He strikes back. She blocks with her forearm, but the force of his hit is so powerful that the back of her hand recoils and splits her lip.
Crap. Fighting Kain isn’t as easy as taking down Filth—and I don’t know if Ariel even realizes she’s battling a vampire.
Another bench piece crashes down next to my feet, courtesy of Nina. Now that could work. I scan the floor for the biggest chunk of stone I can lift and find one that weighs about thirty pounds. Straining, I raise the rock above my head and charge at Kain.
Oblivious to my existence, Kain lands a punch in Ariel’s midsection. Ariel crumples in pain.
Before Kain can go for the kill, I slam the stone into his head.
The vampire sways, a stunned look on his face. Ariel recovers enough to stumble toward him, and I shove the stone into her hands. With a startled expression, she grabs on. I can’t guess what it must feel like to have a bloody rock materialize in your grasp, but Ariel’s a trooper. She doesn’t waste time pondering her good fortune.
Easily lifting the stone, she smashes it into Kain’s face.
Kain staggers back.
Ariel hits him again.
Kain stumbles to the floor.
Ariel jumps on his chest and slams the rock down on his forehead, again and again.
“Enough!” I yell at her, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. She bashes and bashes what remains of Kain’s head, way past the point of his demise. Clearly, whatever illusion Hekima is giving her has generated a murderous rage.
I feel a surge of pity for the vampire—for all our differences, he was just trying to do his job—but I remind myself that Kain’s death is on Hekima’s conscience. Same goes for the Councilors Hekima wanted revenge on.
They’re dead now too.
But Hekima himself? He’s staring at me.
Puck.
I frantically look for a smaller rock, but he points his hand at Nina.
“Wait!” I yell.
Too late.
An invisible telekinetic force hurls me into the air.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I flail as I sail through the air.
This isn’t the dream world. This flight will end in a painful crash at best, a bashed-in head à la Kain at worst. Heart pounding, I rummage through my pockets for something to throw at Hekima.
Nina boomerangs me a new direction, breaking my concentration. Does she think I’m a drone or something?
My patting hands discover an object in the last pocket I check. Is that what I think it is? Clearly, sleep deprivation made my memory worse than I thought. Here’s yet another tool from the Bernard job I’ve completely forgotten about.
I pull out the sleep grenade as Nina makes me circle the room even faster.
If I use the grenade, everyone here will fall asleep. That includes Nina, which means I’ll crash-land. If I don’t use the grenade, she’s bound to tire of playing with her drone and crash me into something. Not a big difference. At least this way, I stand a chance.
So be it.
Holding my breath, I activate the grenade and toss it.
Gas fills the room, and I feel myself plummet. I keep holding my breath until I land atop Chester’s sleeping body.
Ouch. That hurt, but I’ll definitely live. But there’s one problem: I can’t hold my breath any longer.
Lungs screaming for air, I inhale—and join everyone in sleep.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I’m standing under a shower that sprays tomato juice instead of water, soaking the pink tutu I’m wearing. A purple llama stands just outside the stream, chewing the shower curtain.
“Can you pass me the body wash?” the llama says in a Scottish accent, after the curtain is kaput.
I obligingly reach for the bottle, only to notice something missing from my wrist.
Pom isn’t where he should be.
Of course. I’m dreaming. For the millionth time, I wonder why such absurdities as the tutu and the llama don’t clue me in.
Recalling what happened right before I fell asleep, I change my outfit and head for my dream palace.
I’m lucky Chester fell where he did. Was that his luck or mine? It’s possible that his probability power guided my fall so as to save him from Hekima’s trap. Hopefully that means I can figure out how to do exactly that.
Pom materializes in front of me. “Did it help when I let you see what I see?”
I pull him close and fluff his fur. “Yep, but no time to talk. I think I have a plan.”
“Good luck.” His ears turn black. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay out of it—I have a feeling it’s going to be scary.”
“Suit yourself.”
I teleport to the tower of sleepers. A few Councilors are already here, but not Hekima. He must not have reached REM sleep yet.
Since Kit is here, I enter her dream. Surprise, surprise, she’s dreaming of an orgy.
I interrupt the proceedings. “Hey, Kit, this is a wet dream. We need to talk.”
When she looks at me, I re
move the naked people and the bedroom from around us and replace them with a recreation of the Council meeting chamber—or at least the way the place looked before Hekima’s massacre.
“Have a seat,” I tell her, and fill her in on everything that’s happened.
By the time I finish, her eyes are almost as wide as Pom’s. “I can’t believe it was Hekima. But that does explain what happened to me. I saw Colton admit that he was the murderer, and then he attacked me.”
“I bet Colton thought you admitted the same thing.”
“So many dead.” She shakes her head mournfully.
“About that. Filth and Kain’s deaths—”
“—are Hekima’s fault.” She turns into Hekima and imitates cutting a throat. “I’ll make sure the rest of the Council understand that you, Felix, and Ariel aren’t guilty of anything, nor is anyone who killed a colleague due to Hekima’s trickery. Don’t worry.”
Great. And it’s almost true. No one needs to know the particulars of Filth’s demise. He had it coming, but Ariel could still get into trouble unless Hekima takes the blame.
“Thank you,” I say.
Kit reverts to her usual guise. “What now?”
“I’m going to bring more Councilors here and ask you to bring them up to speed.”
Leaving her, I go back to the tower of sleepers and enter Nina’s dream. She’s flying over a field of daisies. I take to the air and loft up next to her.
Her eyes boggle.
“You’re in a dream,” I say.
She floats down to earth and bends to literally smell the flowers. “Seems so real.”
“I know.”
She rubs her forehead. “Did I really—”
“Let’s hold off on the explanation for a moment.” I take us to the dream version of the Council meeting room. “Kit, please tell Nina what happened. I’ll get the others.”
Without waiting for a reply, I return to the tower of sleepers and get Chester, followed by Colton, Isis, the siren, and a few other Councilors.