The Nightmare Charade (39 page)

“But … but I didn't do it. It wasn't me. You made me do it. I didn't know!”

Deverell laughed. “You think intent matters in such things? That the magic can distinguish between what's you and what's the sword? It does not and it cannot. A physical act is a physical act. Murder is murder.”

I looked back at Eli, flashes of Lady Elaine's vision playing in my mind.
The curse.
“Oh, God, Eli.” I touched his face, fingers trembling. I didn't know what to do. He was bleeding out. He was going to die.

But he was still awake. A moan escaped his lips, and he reached for the blade in his chest, trying to wrench it out. He only succeeded in slicing his hands.

“Stop it, Eli!” I grabbed his arms and forced him down. If he pulled the blade free he would only bleed out faster. I looked at Deverell and then Marrow. The latter was fully awake now, fully alive and returned.

Thanks to me.

“Help me,” I said.

There was no pity in Marrow's gaze as he turned it on me. No mercy. He no longer seemed confused by what was happening. Perhaps he wasn't. He'd been present for the whole thing, trapped inside Bellanax.

“Help me,”
I said, pleading now. “I saved you. You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing,” Marrow said. The creak in his voice was gone, replaced with the cold, firm surety of a man who'd lived and died a thousand times before. A man who feared nothing. Immortal and inhuman. “I gave you the chance to serve me once. Now you will serve no one.”

I braced, waiting for him to kill me. Tremors rolled through my body in chaotic waves. But Marrow only stared at me a moment longer before turning his attention to Deverell. “You have done well.”

Shock tore through me. He was going to let me live? It didn't make sense. Only … without my dream-seer power, I was no threat to him—and Eli was already dying.

A sob bubbled up in my chest, and I choked it off. I searched for my mother, hoping she could help now that the Death's Heart spell was broken, but she was unmoving atop the altar. Asleep or dead, I couldn't tell.

I turned to Paul. He was awake and sitting up, his eyes dazed—until they met mine. Understanding crossed his face, but his reaction was unreadable. It might have been triumph or regret or cold indifference. I didn't care. A fierce and primal desire to attack him came over me.

Belatedly, I realized that I
could
attack him—with magic. The shock wave of Bellanax breaking must've undone the block Deverell had put on me. With the knowledge came new hope. Not that I would survive this; I wasn't delusional. But that I didn't have to go quietly. I would rather die fighting than live without Eli. Than to live knowing I had killed him.

Marrow and Deverell both had noticed Paul now, and I took advantage of their distraction to retrieve what remained of Bellanax, the hilt with its broken blade lying at the base of the altar. The moment I picked it up, I sensed the magic in it still; some small remnant of Bellanax remained. It would have to be enough.

“What shall we do with the boy?” Deverell said, directing the question at Marrow.

The Red Warlock rubbed a hand over his long beard, smoothing the ragged strands straight for a moment. “Stand up, Paul Kirkwood,” Marrow finally said.

Paul did so, visibly trembling from either weakness or fear or both.

Marrow walked closer to him, his long red tunic billowing behind him. From its perch atop the wall, the black phoenix gave a loud, long screech. The sound made Paul flinch, but he did not retreat.

Marrow halted a few feet from him. “You have betrayed me in your heart, Paul Kirkwood. You claim to serve me, to want my will to be done, but in your heart it is your own will that holds sway.”

Paul swallowed, the cords in his throat flexing.

“If you would have me spare you, if you would commit yourself to me, then you must prove your loyalty.” Marrow stopped speaking, and the black phoenix shrieked again.

“How?” Paul said.

Marrow's gaze slid to me then back to Paul. “You already know.”

Kill her
.

I gritted my teeth, my fingers clenched around Bellanax. So it would be Paul first. First him, then Deverell. If I could take down those two, it would be enough to make a difference—to have made my life matter.

I was still kneeling beside Eli, the sword out of sight for the moment. I touched what remained of Bellanax's spirit with my mind, asking it for help one last time. Sluggishly it gave me its answer.

“Dusty,” Eli said.

I looked down to find his eyes on my face. He was more aware than before, fear and pain etched around his mouth. “Shhhh,” I said. Then I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. At the same time, I raised my hand and gave him the sword, forcing it into his palm. “Its name is Bellanax,” I whispered. “It will keep you safe.”
It will spare you more pain,
I silently added. It was all I could give him now.

Then not allowing him a chance to respond, I stood up and walked around the altar toward Paul. He approached me slowly, meeting my gaze. I saw hatred in his eyes and determination in the hard line of his mouth. I braced for the attack, turning the word of the spell over in my mind. But I needed to wait for the right opening. If I attacked too soon, he might block, and I would lose the element of surprise.

And my nerve
.

My skin turned to ice, my body to stone. Every muscle clenched, every nerve ending firing with adrenaline.

Paul drew a deep, steady breath and let it out slowly. “I'm sorry, Dusty.”

I didn't respond, only stared at him. My rage was beyond words, my hurt beyond argument.

“Did you…” He hesitated, his expression softening. For a moment, he looked like the Paul I first met—handsome, sweet, and incapable of duplicity, the Paul I always wanted him to be. “Did you ever love me?”

I could tell the question cost him, and some of my anger gave way to pity. I evaluated my answer carefully. This was the end, my last moments. I didn't want to lie. “Yes,” I said, and my answer cost me, too.

Paul's lips twisted in disbelief.

“It's true. Do I feel for you what I feel for Eli?” My voice caught on his name, and I paused, wrestling for control. “No. But love … the kind that matters, the kind that lasts … that's not a feeling. It's a choice. I chose to believe the best of you, Paul. I chose to forgive you despite everything. I would never have been able to do that if I didn't care about you. Hatred? It's a whole lot easier.”

“I know,” Paul said at once, and there seemed to be a deeper meaning in his words. I wasn't sure if he believed me, or just that he wanted to. Or maybe some truth resonated inside him.

“Get on with it, Paul,” Deverell said. “Before we make the choice for you.”

“I'm sorry, Dusty,” Paul said again, but his voice was different this time.

I braced, my magic at the ready, humming beneath my skin.

Paul raised his hand, and his mouth parted with the words of an incantation. “
Temno!
” he shouted, spinning around. I ducked, but there was no need. The spell burst from Paul's fingertips in a flash of white light and struck Deverell in the face. Deep, red gashes appeared across his cheek.

Deverell shrieked, but the pain didn't slow him down. “
Hypno-soma!
”

“
Alexo!
” Paul's shield spell went up just in time to deflect the dazing curse. It ricocheted, zipping over our heads and up toward the cavernous ceiling. A shower of rocks came falling down a second later.

Recovering from my shock, I cast the jab spell, aiming for Deverell's head. “
Fligere
.”

He parried the spell and countered. I dove to the right, just out of the way. The black phoenix launched into the air, letting off another screech.

I rolled and jumped up. With Paul already engaging Deverell, I took aim at Marrow. “
Peiran.
”

The spell soared right toward him, and Marrow made no move to defend. He didn't have to. When it came within a foot of him, the spell struck an invisible barrier and bounced off. Around Marrow's finger the Borromean ring glowed with a pure, white light.

A horrible sense of d
é
j
à
vu came over me. The last time I faced Marrow he had been protected by Bellanax, the sword absorbing every combative spell we aimed at him. Nothing had gotten through, not until I'd used my mind-magic on the sword, making the attack physical instead of magical.

I searched the ground for a weapon, soon spotting a jagged rock the size of a baseball lying a few feet behind Marrow. With my mind-magic, I lifted it into the air then I flung it toward the back of his head, putting all the force into it that I could. It cut through the air with a sharp hiss followed by a loud crack. The rock bounced off the invisible shield same as the spell.

Marrow raised his right hand toward me, the glow of the Borromean ring painting his gaunt face a ghastly white with deep black shadows over his eye sockets. “
Ana-acro!
”

I flung my hand up. “
Alex—
”

Screeching, the black phoenix dove at me, talons extended. I fumbled the spell, and the bird swerved at the last second, dodging Marrow's incoming spell. The magic slammed into me. Silver ropes appeared around my wrists and ankles, pinning my limbs together. I lost my balance and fell forward, striking the ground hard with no way to brace myself.

Marrow strode forward, his face lit with a sinister grin. “
Kaio-dontia
.”

Pain exploded over my skin like being jabbed with a million tiny needles all at once. I screamed, convulsing against the silver ropes. Marrow took off the spell, giving me a few seconds of relief, only to cast it again. It was worse the second time, knife points instead of needles.

I forced my eyes opened and onto Paul, onto anything that might distract me from the pain. But my screams had distracted him. He turned a quick glance on me, just long enough for Deverell's spell to strike him in the leg. There was a sharp snap, like the sound of someone breaking a tree branch over a knee, and Paul collapsed.

Once more, Marrow removed his spell, and the feel of those fiery fangs chewing up my skin dissipated. I sucked air through my teeth, my body raw and throbbing.

“What shall we do with them now?” Deverell said, his gaze fixed on Marrow. There was something hungry in his expression. Gooseflesh broke out over my already tender skin.

I looked away from him, my stomach roiling as my mind provided a gruesome image of him eating a human heart. Movement in the distance caught my eye. My breath hitched when I saw that my mother had rolled over onto her stomach. She was awake and positioned behind Marrow and Deverell.

I pulled my gaze away from her, afraid Marrow would notice. At the moment he was staring at Paul, his expression evaluative. I could hear Paul's labored breathing as he held his broken leg between his hands. He wouldn't be able to attack with magic, not with the pain of a broken leg getting in the way.

Marrow shook his head. “Neither shape would be worth much to you after—”

“
Hupno-soma!
” My mom's voice cut across the room, shrill and tremulous.

Marrow and Deverell both turned. I watched the spell reach Deverell, but nothing happened. He didn't even flinch. The magic in it had been weak, almost nonexistent. With a sinking heart, I realized my mom had been under the Death's Heart spell too long. She hadn't dream-fed in weeks, her fictus all but gone.

“Now that one,” Marrow said, extending his hand toward my mother. “Has a heart worth taking.
Ana-agra!
” The same silver ropes around my wrists and ankles appeared around my mother's. The next moment, Marrow lifted her into the air by those ropes and levitated her closer to where Paul and I lay. She landed in an awkward heap and let out a whimper. I tried to shut the sound out, tears stinging my eyes. At least from this position I couldn't see Eli. I didn't have to watch him dying.

“It will be my pleasure to take it,” Deverell said. He stepped up to my mother, stretched out before him. Long, curved claws had appeared on the tips of his fingers. They looked sharp enough to shred raw meat, to tear through the bones of her rib cage and yank the heart from her body.

“Don't!” I jerked against the ropes, ignoring the way they burned my skin from the movement. The sweet, repugnant stench of singed flesh and hair reached my nose. “Don't!”

“Hold on,” Marrow said, and Deverell paused, his predator's hands hovering inches above my mother's prone form. “Let's see to the daughter first.”

My mom started to scream, but Deverell slapped her, open-palmed. His claws left red ribbons of blood across her face, and she fell silent.

Marrow took a step closer to me. “Do you have your knife?” he said, motioning to Deverell.

A moment later, Deverell handed him a knife with a serrated blade made of bone.

Marrow gripped the knife overhand like an ice pick. “It's only fitting that the dream-seers should die together, slowly and painfully. But don't worry, my dear Dusty. In the end, dying is so much like sleeping. For you, it might even be like dreaming.”

I could only hope. My thoughts turned to Eli, the fear inside me smaller than it might've been. There was no point in fighting anymore. There was no way out of this. With the silver ropes around my wrists I was as helpless as a newborn kitten, completely at the mercy of the man standing over me. My life, as short and insignificant as it had been, meant nothing to the Red Warlock. I was just one more victim in a long slaughter line.

Marrow raised the dagger over his head, and I craned my neck toward Eli. I could just see him still lying on the altar. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell. Asleep then, or so I hoped. I would join him in his dreams, and we would die together. In the end, there was no other way I would've chosen.