The Nightmare Charade (11 page)

“They kill with magic,” I murmured, thinking aloud. As horrible as it sounded, I knew that was how my mother would kill, too. Of course, she would. She was a long way from stupid. A little reckless from time to time, but not stupid. And sneaking into the magickind police station to kill a prisoner? That would've taken planning and caution, not some rash in and out where she left behind a bunch of hair and fingerprints, or whatever it was they'd supposedly collected.

I tapped my thumb against the table. “Are you sure you even did it right? I mean, no offense, but magickind aren't exactly awesome at ordinary science.”

Valentine snorted. “No argument about that. Oh, don't look so surprised. Regardless of what you might think, I'm not out to get your mother.”

You sure about that?
He could be a Marrow supporter. There was no way to tell.

“I just want to see the guilty brought to justice.” Valentine shrugged. “That said, the evidence was tested and verified by the FBI lab in Cleveland. I have a friend in the agency I often call upon for help in these matters.”

He sounded so convincing, so very much like the stoic lead actor of a police procedural that at first I believed him completely—the news crashing down on me like a landslide. But something didn't fit.

I sat up straighter. “Why would an FBI lab have my mom's DNA on file for you to get a match to what you found in Titus's cell? She's never once been in trouble with the ordinary law.” I started to smile, certain I had him there.

Valentine sighed, his look one of pity, like I was some dumb kid, a child playing at a grown-up. “Because I sent them a sample of her DNA to compare it to.”

“Why would—” I broke off, the truth smacking me in the face. A haze seemed to smear the edges of my vision. “Oh, I see. You already thought she was guilty and so you preemptively had them do an analysis on hers.”

Valentine nodded, his lips pressed together in a gesture of regret.

I wasn't buying it. This guy had suspected my mother all along, including last night when he stopped by to enlist my help in finding the Death's Heart. And why did he suspect her? Because she was a Nightmare. I sat back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. I felt Bellanax's heat through my shirt where the silver band pressed against my side.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “There's no way that's admissible. It's got to be racial profiling or entrapment or something. I don't know for sure, but I'm going to find out.”

This time it was Lady Elaine who sighed, feeling sorry for me—although at least hers was genuine. “That's not how the magickind justice system works, Dusty. We have always relied on ‘racial profiling' as you call it. With the kinds as different as they are, it's an effective tool.”

I gritted my teeth—I had to remember she was on my side in this. “Okay, I get that it can be a good tool for finding the guilty, but it shouldn't be the only tool. Maybe there's some other reason why my mom's DNA was there. And maybe because you've already decided she's guilty, you're overlooking the other possibilities.”

“Like what?” Valentine said, and I could tell by the glint in his eye that he was just humoring me.

“I don't know, but I can't believe that
only
a Nightmare could've pulled it off. I know we're awesome and all, but there has to be other magickind out there capable of getting into that ward to kill him.” Not that I knew of any. But the Dream Team would figure it out. I just needed to get my hands on the case file. I glanced down at the folder still lying open on the desk.

Valentine tented his fingers below his chin. “Perhaps you might be right about other ways, but there is the third reason left to consider.”

I exhaled, steeling myself for the next blow. “What is it?”

“I have witnessed your mother's guilt on that matter.”

“She confessed?” I couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible. Even if my mother was guilty, she would never just admit to it. Not unless she knew she could get away with it.

“Not exactly,” Valentine said. “When I say I've witnessed her guilt, I mean that I have felt it,
fed
on it, if you like that word better. And by fed, I mean in the same way that you feed on Eli Booker.”

The room spun around me again. “What are you talking about?”

“Detective Valentine,” Lady Elaine said, her voice working like a lighthouse beacon, giving my capsized brain a target to focus on, “is a Crimen demon. A guilt demon.”

“Correct.” A prim little smile came and went on Valentine's face. “My kind feeds on guilt. When I brought your mother in to get her alibi for the night Titus died, her guilt was undeniable.”

According to you and you only.
My hands clenched into fists. I wanted to hit something. It was so unfair, so much room for deception. “How do you know her guilt is related to the murder? She could be feeling guilty for all sorts of reasons. It doesn't mean crap without a confession.”

“That might be true if it weren't for everything else against her.” Valentine waved a hand through the air. “But it doesn't matter. It's in the court's hands now.”

I sucked in a breath, a helpless feeling coming over me. But no, it wasn't hopeless—I just had to find out who really killed Titus. Clinging to this goal, I said, “I want to talk to my mom.”

“I'm afraid that's impossible at the moment.” Valentine said. “But I'm sure we can arrange it in a few days.”

“How badly hurt is she?” The image of how I'd seen her last flashed through my mind.

“She's fine,” Lady Elaine said. “She's just under a sleeping spell for now.”

I gaped. “Why?”

Valentine offered me a diplomatic smile. “It's just a precaution until we can get a cell constructed to hold her. It's not easy to contain a Nightmare, since the normal anti-magic spells are so ineffective.”

I would've been reassured by the difficulty if the thought of my mother lying unconscious somewhere nearby wasn't so upsetting. “What do you mean construct? You've got Bethany Grey here somewhere, don't you? Why can't she just go in the same kind of cell?”

The two adults in a room exchanged a look, and I could almost hear the silent question pass between them—
should you tell her or should I?

In the end, Lady Elaine lost the coin toss. “The cell we were using to hold Bethany Grey has been … dismantled. Recently.”

“Dismantled? Then where are you keeping Bethany now?”

Valentine let out an exaggerated sigh. “This isn't common knowledge yet, and as such it falls under the nondisclosure agreement you signed. But Bethany Grey has been abducted.”

“She's gone?”
Nobody important,
I thought, recalling Sheriff Brackenberry's words. I could see his reasoning for saying it now, given Bethany Grey was a criminal. Only … “How do you know she didn't just escape? There are still Marrow supporters out there.”

“I had a vision of her kidnapping,” Lady Elaine said, her expression somber. “But not in time to stop it.”

As horrible as this was to hear, a new idea occurred to me, one that sent hope ballooning up inside my chest. “Wait a second. Was Bethany Grey being held in the same magically restricted ward as Titus Kirkwood?”

Valentine nodded.

I nearly jumped to my feet in excitement. “Then that proves someone else besides my mother has the ability to break into that ward!”

Blank stares greeted my declaration, from both Valentine and Lady Elaine.

“What?” I said, exasperated. “It's so obvious.”

“No, Dusty,” Valentine said, offering me a sad shake of his head. “It's not. Bethany's disappearance, the Death's Heart. It's all happened since you returned from your trip. Your mother could've easily done it. Right now she's our biggest suspect.”

I laughed, feeling on the verge of hysteria. “Wow, my mom's a criminal mastermind, isn't she? I mean, why not blame everything on her. Maybe she even stole a time machine and went back to the sixties just to kill Kennedy.”

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Valentine said, his tone annoyingly reasonable. “Bethany and Moira share a long and well-documented history of mutual animosity.”

I pressed my lips together, wishing I could deny it. But Bethany and Moira did hate each other. Bethany had even tried to kill her.

Still, I refused to accept anything until I had more proof. “I know she didn't do any of this.”

“The judge and jury will determine that,” said Valentine.

Swallowing, I asked, “When is the trial?”

“It's set to start at the end of October,” Lady Elaine said.

Blood rushed in my ears. “What if she's found guilty?”

“We really shouldn't speculate—” Lady Elaine began.

Valentine cut her off. “If found guilty, she will most certainly be executed.”

I swayed on my chair, the image of my dead body in Eli's dream swimming in my mind.
Dreams are symbolic,
Eli had said. Except for our hair, my mother and I looked alike.
Symbolic.

I closed my eyes and prayed the dream was lying. Just this time.

 

8

It Bites

The rest of the interview went quickly, painlessly, for the most part. True to the deal we'd made, I told Valentine everything I could remember about Titus Kirkwood and the attack on Lyonshold—including my absolute certainty that my mother had no idea what we'd found out until after it all went down. I hadn't spoken to her at all in the days before Titus Kirkwood abducted me, Eli, Selene, and Paul.

But I also had to admit that since arriving back in the States nearly a week ago, I hadn't had any contact with my mom until today. She could've been up to anything. The day we got home, I went to stay with my dad for the remainder of summer break for some much needed father-daughter time. Up until discovering I was a Nightmare, I'd lived exclusively with my ordinary father, a college professor at the local university.

In other words, I wasn't able to do a thing to help my mother.

It was nearly midnight when I arrived back at campus. Unfortunately, with my Will Guard escort, I wasn't able to retrieve the flash drive from the flowerpot. It would have to wait until the morning. But at least Lady Elaine had made sure I could skip classes tomorrow, a day to mourn as it were.

The moment the bell for first period rang the following morning, I left my dorm room and headed back to the parking lot. To my dismay, the flash drive was completely soaked and covered in dirt. I had no idea if it would work or not. I set it on my desk to dry when I returned to my dorm room and then spent the rest of the day browsing the Internet and watching movies.

Selene brought me back food from the cafeteria during lunch and then later at dinner. I was grateful to avoid the crowds. The rumors were flying high.

“How bad is it?” I asked her as we sat down to enjoy a couple of unicorn skewers of shrimp, chicken, and veggies.

“Boring really.” She made a face. “People have no imagination. I mean, if I were going to start a rumor about your mother, it would be that she's a government spy being framed for Titus's murder so that the real criminal can go about his business without worrying that her badass, super-self will arrive just in time to foil his plans.” Selene paused, raising a hand to her chin. “But wait, that's mostly true, isn't it?”

I smiled appreciatively, but couldn't muster the will to laugh.

Selene sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, not all the rumors are about your mother. There's one going around that Lance's father has disinherited him because he committed the horrible crime of dating a siren.”

I risked a look at her, words escaping me.

“Yep, he's going to be forced out of school now any day.”

My mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“No,” Selene said, a weak smile cresting her lips. “That's just the rumor. Although it is true that his dad hates me. If he's not careful he just might get disinherited.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

She shrugged, tossing her long black braid over her shoulder. “It's all right. Maybe there'll be something new for them to make up rumors about tomorrow.”

It was a nice idea, but wishful thinking. When Selene and I walked into the cafeteria the next morning, I noticed a definite shift in the noise level. The conversation didn't stop, just changed in pitch, a sudden uptick. There were head turns, pointing, taps on shoulders. It might've been my imagination, but I didn't think so. It wasn't the first time I'd been through something like this. It was just the first time the rumors were about my mother instead of me. For some reason, that bothered me more.

“Just ignore it,” Selene said. She swept the room with a hawk-like stare, one fierce enough to make onlookers recoil. Such was the power of a siren. For a second, I imagined her unfurling her hidden wings, taking flight, and then dive-bombing the crowd until they were all prostrate on the ground, too scared to speak a word. She would do it, too, if the situation called for it. My affection for her swelled up inside me, and I resisted the urge to give her a mushy hug.

Eli and Lance weren't there yet, so we went through the line at the Pizza Tut, ordering a couple of breakfast pizzas big enough to share with the boys—roughly half the size of a table. I desperately scanned the food vendors for signs of a caffeinated beverage. After a fitful night's sleep, I would've settled for it in any form, but the hope I'd harbored that caffeine would be an upperclassmen perk soon died. Like sugar and nearly everything else worthy of compulsive consumption, caffeine was a controlled substance at Arkwell.

The boys arrived not long after we sat down. Eli greeted me with a pick-me-up hug hard enough to squeeze all the air from my chest. “I missed you yesterday,” he said, then he kissed me, both of us ignoring the Will Guard already closing in.