Lair of Dreams (The Diviners #2) (56 page)

“Pipe down, Evil, or I swear I’ll deck you,” Theta said.

“We have to do it tonight. At once,” Ling warned them, steering them back to the crisis at hand.

“Tonight?” Mabel said.

“We can’t wait,” Ling said. “It has to be now, before she draws him in any deeper.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Evie asked. “’S this a party game?”

“We got ghost trouble,” Sam said. “That sleeping sickness? It’s caused by a ghost.”

Evie shook her head vehemently. “No. Not again. Can I tell you a secret? I don’t like ghosts very much. They are terrible people.”

Memphis let out a low whistle, shaking his head.

Theta’s eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s got Henry, Evil.”

For the first time, Evie noticed Henry lying on the Chesterfield, still and pale. “Henry. Sweet Henry.”

“We’d better get started, Freddy,” Sam said.

Jericho ripped a piece of bedsheet from part of the exhibit and painted a sign in thick letters—
CANCELED
—then hung it across the museum’s front doors. “Getting awfully windy out there,” he said.

“Ling, how long should I set the alarm for?” Theta asked, adjusting the clock’s arm.

“Two hours. I don’t think it’s wise to be under longer than that. And I’ll need Henry’s hat,” Ling said.

Theta put Henry’s weathered boater in Ling’s hand, then sat down beside Henry, stroking his forehead. “We’re coming for you, Hen.”

Ling began removing her braces so that she could be comfortable. She noticed Jericho watching her intently, and her cheeks flamed. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t stare.”

Jericho blanched. “It’s not what you think.”

“Infantile paralysis,” Ling said brusquely. “Since you seem so curious.”

“I know,” Jericho said, so low and quiet he could barely be heard above the thunder. He draped a blanket over Ling. “Comfortable?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Go get our boy, Ling. Bring him back safe,” Theta said.

Ling nodded. Mabel put the clock on the table, and Ling listened to its steady
tick-tock
, wishing it were a comfort. She cradled Henry’s hat to her chest. With her other hand, she gripped the feather, a reminder of the battle to be fought. Then she inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and waited for the most important dream walk of her life.

Ling woke on the now familiar streets of old New York. But this part of the dream no longer had the same energy and color as before. When the wagon clopped past, it was little more than a suggestion of a man and a horse. Alfred Ely Beach’s voice ebbed in the fog: “Come… marvel… be amazed… the future…”

The entire scene was like a worn memory fading away to nothing.

For a moment, Ling worried that she wouldn’t be able to reach Henry at all. There was a muffled cry—“Murder!”—and a few seconds later, the veiled woman sprinted past, her presence so minimal it opened just the slightest wobbling space in the wall. Ling dove in quickly after her, praying it wouldn’t close as she attempted her pass. Without Henry at her side, the walk through the ghostly underground was dark and lonely and frightening. But Ling couldn’t waver now. At last, she reached the train station. It was aglow and welcoming, as if expecting her, but Ling took no comfort from it now that she knew the source of its making. Ling plinked a key on the piano.

“Henry?” she called. “Henry? It’s Ling. I’m coming for you.”

The train’s lamp blazed in the dark, announcing its arrival, and then Ling was on board, alone, traveling back to the private dream world and Wai-Mae.

When Ling arrived in the meadow, she found Wai-Mae sitting in the grass near the dogwood tree they’d made, singing happily to
herself, and for just a moment, Ling’s resolve ebbed. Wai-Mae wore the jeweled headpiece of a royal concubine, like one of her beloved romantic opera heroines. Seeing Ling, she smiled. “Hello, sister! How do you like it?” she said, turning her head left and right to show off the headpiece with pride.

A day ago, Ling would’ve found it sweetly charming.

“It must’ve taken a lot of energy to make that,” Ling said coolly.

“But worth the effort,” Wai-Mae said, smiling, and Ling felt a bit sick. “I’m glad you came back. Will you take some tea with me?” Wai-Mae poured a cup and held it out to Ling.

Ling didn’t take it. “I can’t stay long. I’ve come to talk.”

Wai-Mae swept her hand through the air as if she were clearing the last tendrils of smoke from a room. “About last night?”

“Yes. And other matters.”

“That’s all forgotten, sister. I’ve forgiven you for what you did. I know you meant well. But I don’t want to talk about such unhappy things anymore. Here. Sit with me and I will tell you all about tonight’s opera, and you will play whatever role you wish—except for the role I play, naturally.”

Ling didn’t move. “Wai-Mae, where’s Henry?”

“Henry? He’s with Louis, of course.”

“Wai-Mae. You need to let him go.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He is happy with Louis in their dream.”

“No. He’s trapped inside a dream. You can’t stay here, Wai-Mae. None of us can live inside a dream. You’re… hurting people. You’re hurting Henry.”

“I would never hurt Henry.”

“All of this”—Ling gestured wide—“is draining him of his Qi. He’ll die, Wai-Mae. And then he’ll become one of those burned-up, discarded things, those hungry ghosts, loose in our world.”

Wai-Mae put her hands over her ears. “Nothing you say makes sense! Go away if you only want to trouble me.”

Ling needed to find a way to break through Wai-Mae’s clouded mind and make her see. She offered her hand. “I want to show you something. It’s important. Will you walk with me… sister?”

At the word
sister
, Wai-Mae smiled. “Is this a new game?”

“It’s an experiment,” Ling said.

“Science again.” Wai-Mae sighed. “Very well, Little Warrior. But then we must make our opera.”

Ling led the way through the forest. For once, Wai-Mae wasn’t chattering, and Ling could sense her wariness.

“Where are you taking me?” Wai-Mae asked.

“Just a little farther now.”

As they broke through the line of trees, the entrance to the tunnel loomed.

Wai-Mae stepped back, scowling. “Why have you brought me to this cursed place?”

“Why don’t you want to go inside?”

“I’ve told you! Something terrible happened there. She lives there now.”

“The veiled woman. The one who cries.”

“Yes, yes. I’ve told you all of this before,” Wai-Mae said, looking away.

“How do you know this?”

“I-I just do! I can… feel her.”

“Why is it that you can feel her emotions but Henry and I can’t?”

“How should I know?” Wai-Mae snapped. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to stay here. Let’s go back.”

“You know what happened in there, don’t you? You’ve always known. Who is she?”

“Stop it!”

“Remember, Wai-Mae. I know you don’t want to, but you must. You must remember what happened.”

“I won’t have my dreams ruined.”

Ling didn’t move. “Wai-Mae, a terrible injustice was done to you,
and for that, I’m sorry. I am so sorry for all the pain. But you can be at peace now. You can be at rest. I can help you.”

Wai-Mae looked baffled. “I’m already at peace. Here. In dreams.”

“Just come inside with me. That’s all I’m asking,” Ling said, taking a step backward toward the tunnel. The skin of her neck prickled into gooseflesh. “Walk through the tunnel with me this one time, and I promise I’ll never mention it ever again.”

Ling took another step backward and Wai-Mae’s mouth parted in horror. “Sister! You mustn’t go in—it isn’t safe!”

“Why? What will she do to me?”

Ling took another step, and Wai-Mae balled her fists at her mouth. Her eyes were huge. “She’ll… she’ll… don’t.”

“In science, we need proof. Prove me wrong. Come after me.”

And with that, Ling stepped inside the tunnel.

“Ling! Please!”

Wai-Mae’s cry echoed around Ling. She kept her eyes on Wai-Mae, standing in the sunshine, but she could feel the darkness at her back. Her skin buzzed with fear.

Wai-Mae came closer. Her breathing was shallow, her voice desperate. “Please, Ling.”

Heart hammering, Ling took another step backward, and another. Behind her, the dark sighed, like a long gust of wind through dry leaves, and it took all of Ling’s will not to run back toward the light.

Wai-Mae hesitated for another moment, and then, carefully, she stepped into the darkness, glancing around fearfully at the earthen tomb. Nothing happened, and Ling wondered if perhaps she’d gotten it wrong after all.

“Sister? Where are you?”

“I’m here,” Ling said, her voice hoarse. “Come to me.”

As Wai-Mae moved through the dark, light crackled along the walls, making her jump.

“Please. Let’s go back, Ling.”

“Just a little closer,” Ling said.

The bricks sputtered to life, glowing with so many dreams. Like a curious child, Wai-Mae drew closer to the wall. She put her hand to first one, then another, then another, staring at the image of the veiled woman as she ran toward Devlin’s.

Wai-Mae sang, soft as a lullaby.
“La-la-la-la-la… wake unto me. Starlight… sweet dreams…”
Her song became a whisper.
“Are waiting. Waiting for… for…
me
.”

A phosphorescent aura softened the outline of Wai-Mae, like something raised from the deep, and then she fell into the dirt, her face in her hands. The howl torn from her nearly broke Ling’s heart.

“Why?” Wai-Mae sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Ling said, fighting tears. “So sorry.”

“How could you do this to me?” Wai-Mae said, shaking.

“Let me help you, Wai-Mae.”

Wai-Mae’s eyes flashed. Her teeth lengthened, sharpening to points. “You are dishonorable! Like the man who tricked me here.”

Behind Ling, the dark felt alive. Nails clicked on stone. Scratching. And Ling didn’t know what was more terrifying—the thought of what might lie in the vast dark behind her or the creature transforming before her. Wai-Mae rose from the dirt, walking slowly toward Ling. As she did, her modest tunic shifted into the long white dress. Bloodstains seeped through and stretched across the fabric in flowering wounds. The headpiece dissolved, and Wai-Mae’s neatly coiled dark hair came undone. It fell loose across her shoulders, snarled and broken. Her sharp teeth gleamed. Purple pockmarks painted themselves upon the pale ribbon of Wai-Mae’s throat. Her waspish voice stung the air: “I will show you the terror of your desires. I will show you the folly of dreams. I will show you how the world tears you apart. Here is your dream turned to dust.”

The veil descended. In her hand was the dagger. Wai-Mae lunged, grabbing the back of Ling’s neck. “
Dream with me, sister
,” she growled, plunging the dagger in. She parted her lips and pressed her dream into Ling’s mouth.

Ling fought back until she no longer could. Her arms hung at her sides, loose and long, as if she’d put down a heavy burden at last.

And then she was tumbling down.

Mabel shut off the alarm, but Henry and Ling slept on.

Jericho’s face was grave. “I can’t wake her.”

Theta shook Henry. “Wake up! Come on, Hen! Please.”

In the eerie silence that followed, Theta stood and faced everyone. “Well, I’m not sitting here while that witch kills my best friend. I say we go into the tunnels and find that train station and whatever is so damned important down there. I say we burn it if we gotta. Whaddaya got around this Creepy Crawly to help us out?”

Mabel rifled through drawers, pulling out all manner of things—ceremonial knives, protective charms, a wooden stake, stones, and a wooden box.

“Any of these things work?” Theta asked, examining a woven wheel with feathers attached.

“Possibly,” Jericho said. “The trouble is, we don’t know how they work. And Will has always said that each culture has its specific beliefs about ghosts. You can’t guarantee that a gris gris bag will keep you safe from a Chinese ghost, for instance. You’d need to know more about what you’re up against.”

“How can we find that out?” Theta asked. “The two people who know the most about our ghost are out cold.”

“Maybe if we had somebody who could get a read on the situation once we’re down there?” Sam said and looked over at Evie, slumped in her chair.

“I don’t think Evil could read the directions on a can of beans right now,” Theta said.

“I am perfectly capable, I can assure you,” Evie sniffed.

“Swell. Somebody get the Great Blotto some coffee.” Sam opened the weapons cabinet. “And a few of these knives couldn’t hurt.”

“Agreed. These flashlights will also come in handy,” Memphis said, testing the batteries in each one.

“Jericho, you and Mabel stay here and keep trying to wake them up,” Sam said as he grabbed for his jacket.

“I should come with you,” Jericho protested. “I’m bigger.”

“Yeah, I know. I got eyes,” Sam sniped. “But if something goes really south with Ling and Henry, we need somebody who could drag them off to the showers. Or fight whatever comes in here.”

“I don’t like it,” Jericho said.

“I don’t like any of this, pal!” Sam yelled. “If you got a better idea, let me know.”

Jericho didn’t have a better idea, but he resented being stuck at the museum instead of where the action was. That was always his role, and he was tired of it. “Fine,” he grumbled.

“Theta, I’d feel a whole lot better if you stayed here,” Memphis said.

“Nothing doing. Henry’s my best friend, my only family. He’s all I got.”

“You’ve got me,” Memphis said softly.

“Poet, I didn’t mean it that way.…”

“Mabel shouldn’t go. Theta shouldn’t go. Why is no one being chival… chivaroos… how come none of you bums is looking out for me?” Evie pouted as she sprawled across her chair.

“I am,” Theta said. She yanked Evie to a sitting position, put a cup of coffee to her lips, and practically poured it down her throat.