The Nightmare Charade Page 3

  Still living. As in not dead yet. At once, an image from a movie I’d watched as a kid rose to my mind. It was an old movie, a childhood favorite of my dad’s where all the fantastical characters were played by puppets. In this particular scene, one of the evil characters drained the “living essence” of another innocent character, a process that aged the puppet and turned it into a mindless drone—like a zombie. The scene had terrified me as a child.

  I shook the image off. “So you think it was stolen for that purpose? To bring someone back to life by killing someone else?”

  “Most likely.” Valentine returned the Death’s Heart photo to the paper. As before his fingers disappeared into the shiny surface, leaving the heart behind when they reemerged. The ink swirled for a moment, then disappeared again.

  “Most?” Eli said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  “It’s always possible the thief will attempt to sell it,” said Sheriff Brackenberry. His low grumble of a voice made me jump. I’d almost forgotten he was here, which was saying something, considering the man was the size of a grizzly bear.

  “Yes, that’s possible,” Valentine said, “but for now we must assume the thief intends to use it. We need to recover it before he does.”

  “Right,” Eli said, cracking his knuckles. “But when did it go missing? From where? And how?”

  Brackenberry rolled his eyes. “Oh, lord, here we go.”

  Valentine frowned at Eli, his expression puzzled. “I don’t see how that information is relevant.”

  “That’s because it’s not. But these two like to fancy themselves as amateur detectives.” Brackenberry pointed his thumb at Eli and me. “Call themselves the Dream Team, from what I hear.”

  I winced. The name did sound a little silly when said like that. Beside me, Eli’s expression remained stoic. Silly or not, we were both serious about it, Eli especially. His biggest ambition was to join the FBI.

  “Huh.” Valentine exhaled loudly through his nose, the sound not quite a laugh but not a huff either. “Well, all I can tell you is that it went missing from a secret vault in Lyonshold. And whoever stole it either works in a high position in the magickind government or has close ties with someone who does.”

  “Why do you think that?” Eli and I asked in unison. The shared moment made my breath catch, a subtle affirmation of our rightness.

  “Well as I said, it was in a secret vault. And Death’s Hearts like this one aren’t even supposed to exist anymore.” Valentine grimaced. “They were banned by the Black Magic Purge Act of 1349 and should’ve been destroyed centuries ago.”

  “Typical.” I folded my arms over my chest. I knew firsthand that the Purge Act wasn’t quite as effective as the history books liked to claim.

  “Hence the need for those nondisclosure agreements.” Valentine motioned toward the table.

  “Okay,” Eli said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Is there anything else we need to know? Is there any sign of when the heart is being used? There’re a lot of ways to detect magic use, right?”

  “Normally, yes, but since the Death’s Heart hasn’t been used in so long we have no idea what those signs might be,” Valentine said, once again rubbing his thumb over the top of his lip. “Aside from the obvious ones, of course.”

  “Obvious?” I asked.

  “Missing persons,” Lady Elaine answered. A grievous expression twisted her age-lined face. Like Valentine, I had no idea how old she was other than very. I didn’t even know what kind she was, witchkind or naturekind or darkkind. I’d never thought to ask. What mattered was that she was an Oracle, the ability to see the future an inborn talent. I didn’t like the fear in her eyes, and I wondered what that talent might’ve shown her recently.

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Valentine. “Fuel for the machine, as it were.”

  It was a coarse way of putting it, and once again the image of that stupid puppet having its vital essence drained rose up in my mind. I shivered. “Has anyone gone missing yet?”

  “No one of importance,” said Brackenberry.

  My eyes widened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” Lady Elaine said, “that we’ve already told you enough to be getting on with. You don’t need to concern yourself with missing persons. Focus the dreams on finding the Death’s Heart. That is the most important thing.”

  I recognized the finality in her tone and had to fight back the urge to argue. I glanced at Eli, expecting him to press for more, but to my surprise he seemed content. I decided to take comfort in that, guessing he already had some scheme in mind to get the information we needed.

  But that comfort was short lived as a new thought occurred to me, one that made me feel as if I were having my living essence drained right this very second. “If the thief didn’t steal it for the money, then why?” I bit my lower lip. “I mean, who’s died recently that someone would be willing to go to this length to bring them back?”

  As soon as I said it, I knew it was a foolish question. I’d never lost a close loved one, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the power of that grief and what it might drive a person to do.

  And there certainly had been some significant deaths of late—people who’d held positions of power and who no doubt left behind supporters. There was Consul Vanholt, head of the magickind government, who had died in the attack on Lyonshold. And Senator Titus Kirkwood, of course, the man behind the attack. The magickind police had caught him trying to flee the sinking island, but before he could go to trial, someone had murdered him in his prison cell.

  “Anyone with the knowledge of the heart’s existence could be guilty,” Valentine said.

  I shifted my gaze to Lady Elaine, my fear growing by the second. “It’s not…” I swallowed. “Because of Marrow, is it?”

  Marrow. Even saying his name was hard these days, let alone facing the reality that he was still out there. I often called him the Hitler-wannabe, but that was putting it too lightly. Marrow was behind all the recent disasters and upheaval amid magickind. It all came back to him. He had broken The Will spell. Titus Kirkwood had been one of his followers. Known as the Red Warlock, Marrow was a man who could be killed but who could not stay dead, and that made him an infinite threat, forever lurking. Thanks to his familiar bond with a black phoenix, whenever Marrow’s mortal body died, he would simply be reborn with a new one—same soul, same anima, new packaging.

  But like the Death’s Heart, no one knew exactly how the rebirth worked, whether he would return as a baby or a grown man with a different face, or as a fresh copy of the man he’d been before.

  Lady Elaine took several seconds before answering. “We don’t believe so. At least not if you’re referring to his resurrection. He does not need the Death’s Heart for that. The black phoenix is enough.”

  “Then what then?” Eli said, no doubt catching the hitch in her voice as easily as I had. “Are you saying this is still about Marrow?”

  “We don’t know,” Lady Elaine said, her gaze steely. “But it’s possible. If he has returned already, and if he has learned of the Death’s Heart’s existence, it is most certainly an object he would want in his possession. We might not know much about how the Death’s Heart works, but we do know some of the ways it has been used in the past. In ancient times there were groups of magickind who set themselves up as gods, requiring the primitive ordinaries to make human sacrifices to them. Using the Death’s Heart, they transferred the anima of those sacrifices to themselves, ensuring very long lives.”

  My heart gave a stutter. Eli looked pale beneath his summer-bronze tan. Marrow would definitely be one to set himself up as a god. Only, as Lady Elaine had said, he already had the immortality thing in the bag.

  “But there are also accounts of magickind using the Death’s Heart to create and sustain armies of the living dead,” Lady Elaine continued. “The most famous was Genghis Khan. You can imagine how easy and efficient it was to use the lives of his victims to resurrect his so
ldiers.”

  “That sounds like Marrow,” I said, breathless. I reached for the silver band on my wrist and began to twist it. If Marrow was back and stealing objects, how long before he came after me? He would want Bellanax back. There was no question of that.

  Lady Elaine’s gaze shifted toward my wrist, and I stilled my hand, afraid of what conclusions she might draw. A second later, she pulled her gaze away—the pulling obvious, effortful. Eli shifted closer toward me. I leaned into him, drawing comfort.

  “I believe that’s enough,” Valentine said. “As of right now, we have no proof that Marrow is involved. And if I understand how the dream-seer powers work, I think it best that you channel the dreams on the Death’s Heart so as not to bend the narrative to a possible suspect instead of the correct one.”

  Eli nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “Yes, and with any luck you’ll find the person quickly and this will all be over.” Lady Elaine smiled. I knew it was meant to comfort us, but it was fragile around the edges, like old paper.

  She’s afraid. The Oracle was afraid. What horrible vision had she seen? What did she know that she wasn’t telling us?

  Without warning, Bellanax flared into life. For a second the urge to disengage the glamour was so great that starbursts filled my vision from the effort of resisting it. I twisted the band over and over again.

  Lady Elaine was afraid.

  And it seemed Bellanax thought I should be, too.

  3

  Death Becomes You

  A few minutes later, Valentine gathered up the papers from the table and tucked them back into the folder. “Thank you again for your time, and I’ll be looking forward to your dream reports. Oh—” He paused and flashed a diplomatic smile my way. “It goes without saying that your dream journals now fall under the nondisclosure agreements until such time as the Death’s Heart is recovered.”

  And with that, he headed out the door. Sheriff Brackenberry followed after him. I took a deep breath, relieved to be almost alone with Eli again. Now if Lady Elaine would just leave. Only, so far she hadn’t moved so much as a pinkie finger. Before I could ask her what the holdup was, Dr. Hendershaw strolled into the room.

  New situation.

  Someone else came in with her, the red and black uniform sending a jolt through me. But it wasn’t just any Will Guard. It was the same woman who’d accosted me on the way over here.

  Bollinger scanned the room, distaste clear in her expression. She might’ve been pretty if she weren’t in the habit of screwing up her features that way.

  “What’s this?” Eli said.

  A broad smile, oozing with smugness stretched like warm taffy across Dr. Hendershaw’s face. “This is part of a change the school is making to our dream-seer policy. From this moment forward, you two will only be permitted to dream-feed together under the supervision of a designated chaperone.”

  A full thirty seconds passed before the meaning of her words finally struck me. When they did, it was like a thunderclap, the kind loud enough to shake walls and burst windows.

  Eli had gone utterly still, all except for a muscle ticking in his jaw. He inhaled, nostrils flaring. “That’s not necessary.”

  Dr. Hendershaw laughed, the sound close to a cackle. “Very funny, Mr. Booker. Considering what I walked in on earlier.”

  Eli’s hands clenched into fists.

  I turned toward Lady Elaine. “Please, don’t do this.” I spoke low, my voice pleading. Because I knew, I knew, that this was about the curse. Again.

  To her credit, a pained look flitted across her face.

  Before she could answer, Hendershaw cut in. “This is not open for negotiation, Miss Everhart.”

  Anger heated my skin. “This is bull—”

  Lady Elaine snapped her fingers, and something that felt like a hot air balloon filled my mouth. The magic tingled over my tongue. Speaking became impossible.

  “Before you say something you’ll regret,” Lady Elaine said, quietly. Then she let out a small sigh. “I know this is hard for you, but there is no changing it. As long as you are a minor and a student at this school you will abide by whatever rules the school chooses to impose. Do you understand?”

  With tears stinging my eyes, I slowly nodded. The pressure eased a moment later, and I drew a deep breath. It did nothing to ease the ache in my chest though, as if the oxygen in my lungs had turned to lead. I sensed Eli shifting his weight beside me, but I couldn’t risk looking at him. Not unless I wanted to totally lose it.

  “Now, as I was saying,” Dr. Hendershaw went on, and I didn’t look at her either, for much the same reason. “Miss Bollinger will be your primary chaperone. She will escort Dusty to and from her dorm to Eli’s and remain present during the entire duration of the dream session. No exceptions.”

  The scowl on my face went so deep I thought my skin might split. I made the mistake of looking at Bollinger. Her smugness was tangible, a stick I wanted to grab and smack her with. Bellanax stirred, the feel like a growl inside my head. The skin on my wrist burned. I closed my eyes, pressing against it, trying to remember the risk involved in revealing the sword. Marrow was back. He would be looking for it. The reminder helped, but only a little.

  I opened my eyes to see everyone staring at me. Anger pounding through me, I stared back. I was too mad even for sarcasm. I considered telling Lady Elaine about my run-in with Bollinger, but I knew it was pointless. I had no proof that she hated me, just a feeling. And I doubted that Dr. Hendershaw would be overly concerned. My feelings meant nothing to her. To any of them.

  Eli looked tense enough to snap. But I wasn’t sure if it was from anger. There was some of that, yes, but something else, too. Regret? Relief? But no. That was just my imagination, self-doubt fueled by this latest attack against our happiness.

  Dr. Hendershaw brought her hands together in a silent clap. “All right, we shall leave you to your new chaperone. And best of luck with whatever you’re searching for.”

  She sounded so pleasant that an outsider might’ve mistaken her for nice. As she turned toward the door all I could do was glare at the back of her head.

  Lady Elaine followed her out, shutting the door.

  Several seconds of painful silence passed, the three of us left eyeing one another like gangland negotiators.

  Unsurprisingly, Bollinger spoke first. “All right, you two. Get on with it. I’ve got patrolling to do once we’re finished here.”

  Now Eli looked fit to be tied. His jaw worked back and forth, making muscles leap and dance on his face and neck. He put his hands on his hip. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to be able to fall asleep right now.” With you here. The unspoken words hung in the air.

  Bollinger shrugged. “No matter. I’ve been authorized to use sleeping spells to help keep things on track. If you would assume the position…”

  I sensed Eli’s silent debate, but what choice did we have? Sure, we could refuse, but she was a Will Guard. She could force us with magic. Or we could fight back, but only at the risk of being expelled or grounded for the rest of our teenage years.

  Eli seemed to come to the same conclusion. He stepped over to the sofa and lay down, his head propped on one armrest and his feet hanging over the other. “Get on with it, please,” he said.

  Bollinger sniffed at the request, but she came forward just the same, holding her wand aloft. “Hupno-drasi.” Eli’s eyes caught mine for a second, his gaze steady, but then the spell took hold, and his eyes slid closed. A moment later he was asleep.

  Bollinger smirked, no doubt thrilled that she’d gotten to use the restricted spell. She turned her gaze on me. “Glare all you like, little girl. Won’t change a thing.” She retreated to the other side of the room and sat down in one of the desk chairs. “Not that I understand the need for me to be babysitting at all. It’s absurd, this dream-seer curse. Especially considering the two of you.”

  “What do you mean?” I said, unable to keep myself from responding even though I sensed a
trap.

  An overly innocent expression appeared on her face. “Oh, I just mean the vast differences between you two. Him being such a handsome boy and you … well … being so plain.”

  I inhaled, her words cutting deeper than I would ever admit. Forcibly, I turned away from her and headed to Eli—my only comfort in all of this.

  He was already dreaming. His eyes moved back and forth beneath his eyelids. Seeing him in his dream state, eagerness to join him came over me. We might not be alone in his dorm anymore, but we would be in the dream. Trying to ignore the gaze I felt on my back, I climbed on top of Eli. I positioned my feet on either side of his rib cage and slowly lowered my weight onto his chest. The position was weird—and intimate—but also the most effective for dream-feeding.

  The moment I was in place, a burning, aching want swelled up inside me, my Nightmare powers ravenous for the fictus, the magical stuff of Eli’s dreams. I had dream-fed on others these past weeks, the need to refuel my magic unavoidable, but those dream subjects were strangers, and their dreams were dull, boring things—black and white and tasteless. Nothing at all like Eli’s.

  His were powerful—and oh so sweet.

  I touched my hands against his forehead and felt my consciousness shuck off the confines of my physical body, trading it for an existence inside Eli’s dreams. Colors as bright and pulsating as a super nova filled my vision. The colors were a chaotic blur for a few seconds, until finally transforming into the dream world.

  I found myself lying on my back with nothing but blackness overhead. It might’ve been the sky or a cave or nothing at all. If it weren’t for the press of a hard surface beneath my back, I would’ve thought I was drifting in space.

  “Hey, you.” Eli’s voice seemed to float out of the darkness. “Is that the real you and not the imagined one I’ve been stuck with these last few weeks?”