The Nightmare Charade (41 page)

I looked down at Marrow's dead body, any thrill I'd felt vanishing at once. Already smoke billowed up around the corpse. The resurrection process had begun. The black phoenix screeched from on high. I looked up, my hope extinguishing.

This had to end. He had to die once and for all. But how? The bird was infallible. It had been hit with spells a half-dozen times, but it looked as sure and steady as ever. Maybe we could keep it away, never allow it to reclaim Marrow's spirit. But for how long? Eli didn't have time.

Screeching again, the black phoenix dove toward me. I knew it wouldn't stop, not until it had driven me away. I could either run or die. I stood my ground, Bellanax hot in my hand.

Something collided with the bird midflight, a human-like object. For a second, I thought it was Selene, then I saw it was a boy with white, underdeveloped wings, thin and malformed rising out of his shoulder blades.

Paul,
I realized, bewildered. Paul, who was half wizard, half
siren
. Like Selene. Only unlike her, he had never learned to use his wings. He couldn't really fly, not much more than that first initial launch that had brought him soaring into the black phoenix's path. But it had been enough. He latched onto the bird's back as if he were trying to ride it like a dragon. The black phoenix was big, but not big enough to bear his weight. It had flown all the way to the ceiling, hundreds of feet above in its attempt to dislodge him, but now they were falling back to the ground.

Paul didn't even try to fly, his wings limp things streaming behind him. Instead he shifted his grip until both hands held the thin, hollow bone at the top of the black phoenix's wing. He gripped it—then yanked up, forcing the bone to bend in a way it was never meant to.

The black phoenix's cry drowned out the sound of the wing snapping. The bird twisted hard, body jerking convulsively. Paul's grip loosened. He started to slide, only to have the bird catch him as it turned. It wrapped its talons around his waist in a perverse sort of a hug. Paul hugged it back, his hands around its neck. He twisted as hard as he had with the wing. The black phoenix's body went rigid, and what had been a restrained descent turned into a straight plummet.

I tried to slow them down, but they were too heavy and the velocity too great. They struck the ground together in one deafening crack. They lay as they landed, boy and bird entwined, and did not move.

“Paul!” I rushed over to him but slowed as I drew near. The black phoenix was clearly dead, its head thrown back on its broken neck, its lifeless eyes like dull, black stones.

And Paul …

I turned away from his limp, shattered form, gasping. Hopeless despair pressed down on me. He'd died saving me from the black phoenix. He'd killed the mythical bird, but what did it matter? The creature was eternal. It would resurrect. So would Marrow. Only his foes truly died, never him. He would—

The thought halted in my mind, overtaken by the sudden realization that something had changed. Marrow's body was no longer smoking. There was no sign of fire, no sign of life.

I turned and looked back at the black phoenix. It, too, showed no sign of life, no hint of the magical flames that would resurrect it.

My mother staggered toward me. “Is it possible?” Her voice rose in shock, hopeful but afraid.

I glanced at Corvus. His gaze shifted between Marrow and the black phoenix over and over again. Then finally, he gave a single, slow nod. In my hand, I felt Bellanax's answering agreement.

“He's gone,” Moira said. She turned to me. “He's gone.”

I didn't reply. I wanted to be happy, to be relieved, but I couldn't. Paul was dead, and Eli—

My heart lurched into my throat.
Eli.
I spun around and raced over to him. “Eli!” He lay motionless on the altar, on his back once more, eyes closed. The broken blade still rose out of his chest. There was so much blood it looked as if the stone was bleeding along with him. But that was just an illusion. The blood was all his, all him—his life leaking out with every precious red drop.

It had leaked and leaked until he finally ran dry. I knew it without checking for a pulse or a breath. I could feel the absence of him as if a piece of myself had been ripped away. I collapsed next to him, cupping his head in my arms.

We had beaten Marrow, but the price was too high. Unbearable.

Eli Booker was dead.

 

30

Death Like Sleep

I cried.

Every fiber of my being wept, every muscle clenching and unclenching, spasms of despair and heartbreak. It was pointless, an empty gesture, but it was all I had left.

Eli was dead. I would never hear his voice again or feel his fingers on my skin. I would never taste his dreams, so sweet and perfect. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, death a masquerade of sleep on his face. But he wasn't dreaming. There was no fictus. There was nothing but the absence of everything.

“Dusty.” A gentle hand touched the top of my head. “Come on, Dusty. We have to get out of here.”

“No.” I didn't look at my mother. I couldn't bear to take my gaze off Eli, knowing that this was the last time I would ever see him. Despite the ashen color of his skin and the caked blood around his mouth, he was still beautiful. I wished I could see his eyes, if only to memorize forever their unique shade of blue.

“He's gone, Dusty,” my mother said, her fingers at my shoulder now. “You've got to let him go.”

“No!” I shook her off, fury bubbling up inside me like acid.

“Your mother is hurt, Dusty,” Corvus said from somewhere behind me. “So is Selene. They need your help to get out of here.”

Guilt squeezed my chest, and I looked up at my mother. Her face was nearly as ashen as Eli's, deep black divots beneath her eyes. The Death's Heart had nearly killed her.

The Death's Heart
.

Blood began to pound in my ears. I still held Bellanax in my hand, the hilt warm in my palm. A tiny thread of the sword's spirit remained, more echo than voice, but I touched it with my mind, seeking reassurance—and knowledge.

Once again, and for the last time, Bellanax told me what I needed to know. I stood up, summoning all the strength I had left. I was tired and sore, my shoulders aching from where the black phoenix had wounded me, but I had to push past that just long enough to accomplish this task. The others would try to stop me. I had to take care of them before they could.

“
Hupno-drasi!
” I aimed the sleeping spell at Corvus. The attack took him by surprise. His eyes widened with shock, but he was asleep before his body struck the ground.

“What are you doing?” my mom asked, taking a step back from me.

I pointed Bellanax at her. “What I have to. You need to dream-feed. Selene and Corvus will need your magic to help them get out of here.”

“Dusty, what are you saying?” Selene ambled toward me. Her wings trailed behind her. I doubted she could retract them with the damage to the left one. She was pale, like my mother, but still strong enough to put up a fight if she had to. And I knew she would, once she realized what I intended to do.

“I'm sorry, Selene, but I've got to do this.
Hupno-drasi!
” As with Corvus, she hadn't anticipated the attack, not from me, her best friend. She crumpled to the ground, deeply asleep and already dreaming. I hated the betrayal, but she would understand if the situation were reversed, if it had been Lance lying on that altar instead of Eli and she had been responsible.

“Stop this, Destiny,” my mom shrieked. I'd never heard her sound like that, as if she were being rent apart from the inside out. For a second it was almost enough to stop me.

“I can't, Mom.” Then turning my back to her, I walked over to the altar where Marrow disguised as Eli had lain when I first arrived. It seemed like years ago, an eternity. The Death's Heart had fallen behind the altar, nearly invisible in the shadows. I picked it up, my skin crawling at the slick, dense feel of it.

“You drop that now,” my mom said, one hand pointed at me. It was an empty threat. She didn't have enough magic or physical strength to stop me—and we both knew it. But that didn't keep her from trying. “You can't do this. I won't let you.” Her voice broke on a sob.

I closed my eyes and drew a breath, fighting back my own tears. I didn't want to hurt her, but—“I have to do this, Mom. I can't … I can't live knowing I killed him. And I can't live knowing I could've saved him.”

My mom was crying in earnest now, her breathing jagged and her expression broken.

I didn't relent. I had to make her understand. “If you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me yourself. Either way I die, but at least this way, Eli will get to live.”

She wasn't convinced—I could read it in her face—but I saw the fight slowly slipping out of her. She glanced at Corvus. As with Selene, fictus was coming off of him in waves, and she was hungry. Without a word, she turned toward Corvus. For a second, I was shocked by her compliance, but then I realized her plan. She would recharge her magic and stop me.

I was willing to let her try. It didn't matter. Only Eli mattered, and this heavy, gruesome object in my hand. With Bellanax's help, I would turn its evil power for good.

As my mom got in position over Corvus, I hurried over to Eli. I climbed on top of the altar, settling my knees on either side of his waist. I held the Death's Heart in my left hand and Bellanax in my right. Closing my eyes, I listened as the sword showed me how to turn on the Death's Heart, and how to channel its power the way I needed it to flow—my life for Eli's. Instead of draining his vital essence, I would pour mine into him.

The Death's Heart began to glow, red light oozing out of it like liquid blood. At once I felt the pull of it. It was like the pull of a dream, only deeper and heavier, a descent into darkness instead of the multicolor explosion of light and fictus. Terror, like in the split second before a car crash, came over me. But it was too late to change my mind, too late to let go.

And I didn't want to. I was a fire being snuffed out by the wind. I could feel it happening, my limbs growing heavy as my heart slowed. I became terribly aware of my breathing. It, too, was slowing down, each in-and-out of my lungs a greater effort than it had ever been before. I didn't fight it; I couldn't. It was like falling asleep, inescapable and welcome. Darkness swept over me. My vision dimmed. My muscles relaxed, and I fell forward.

I fell down … down … down into oblivion.

*   *   *

The cave was dark, the only light a scattering of glowing orbs, the magic inside them weakening by the second. But the two apparitions hovering above the stone altar could see easily, their spirits' eyes possessing a greater spectral range than their physical bodies had ever known.

“Is this a dream?” the girl asked, turning her gaze on the boy. She was young and slender with red hair and eyes mirror-bright in the darkness.

The boy returned her gaze, an uncertain expression crossing his face. “I don't know,” he said after a while. “It feels like a dream.…”

“But it doesn't,” the girl finished for him.

He turned to her very slowly, unsure of himself, unsure of everything. “There's only one way to test it.” He held out his hand palm up.

The girl studied him a moment, equally unsure.

Then making up her mind, she raised her own hand and pressed it to his, fingertips to fingertips, palm to palm. They were spirit, but their bodies inhabited the same plane of existence, giving them substance, one next to the other.

Nothing happened.

“Not a dream,” they said together in eerie unison. But they did not break the touch. Instead they wove their fingers together. They drew closer, shoulder to shoulder. She leaned against him, sighing.

“What happened here?” the boy said. He swept his gaze over the room. It was a strange place, comprised of several low stone altars surrounded by a circular wall shaped like a dragon. They weren't alone, the boy realized. Some of the people were asleep, some were dead. At least two were dreaming. The boy glanced at the girl once more. “Are we dead?”

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as her eyes were drawn to the altar nearest them. Two figures lay on top of it—a boy and a girl just like them. “I don't know,” she answered truthfully.

The boy reached for her with his other hand. He pulled her close. “I know what you did. I remember now.” It sounded almost like an accusation, but not quite. The way his voice broke spoke of something different—awe or maybe despair.

“I had to,” the girl said. “It was the only way to save you.”

He cupped her face, fingers splayed. “But how do I save you?”

Tears appeared in the girl's eyes, glistening like diamonds. “You already did.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed her back. It was a kiss full of unspoken words and affections, full of everything they couldn't say—
I love you … I need you …

Good-bye.

A strange noise pulled them apart. They turned toward it, but they didn't break their embrace, arms folded around each other. He held her close, ready to die again to keep her safe. She did the same.

In the center of the circle they saw the carcass of a dead animal. Smoke was billowing up all around it. Flames quickly followed. Soon the fire was so large it filled the room with both heat and light. The flames licked and writhed, looking like something alive, a ravenous beast consuming the body of the bird at its center. It burned and ate and burned until there was nothing left but ashes and the fire went out.

The girl and boy watched it all, still locked in their embrace. They knew they should be afraid, but wonder prevented the feeling from reaching them. They were ghosts, after all, what did they have to fear from flame and ashes?