The Nightmare Affair (14 page)

When my teeth started chattering, I gave up. Either Culpepper wasn’t going to come out again this evening or he couldn’t. Regardless, I knew for sure I didn’t want to be in this cemetery when night arrived. The twilight surrounding me now was disturbing enough. I started to go, but then on a reckless impulse turned and approached the mausoleum.

I stared at the door, debating whether or not to go inside. There wasn’t a handle to speak of, just a keyhole, so I put my hands flat against the stone and pushed. The door didn’t move. Culpepper must’ve locked himself in. I considered knocking, but had no idea what I would say if he answered. No, I had to be patient and smart about this. Something was definitely going on here. I couldn’t say for sure it was related to Rosemary’s death, but it might be. Either way, I was determined to find out.

But not tonight. Too cold, too dark, and too dangerous.

I turned around, hoping I could remember the way back on my own. A little panicked at the possibility of being lost, I hurried down the way I’d come in.

Someone grabbed me from behind.

10

Background Check

I shrieked and spun around, lashing out with the first spell that came to mind. “Hypno-soma.”

It was a stupid decision; the dazing curse was combative magic and restricted by The Will. Yet, purple sparks flew out from my fingers and struck the attacker square on the chest. He gasped then stumbled backward, landing hard against the ground.

It was Culpepper. I stared down at him, thunderstruck. My shock turned to panic—no time for questions. Culpepper was already stirring as the spell’s effects retreated. In a moment, he would be on his feet again. He didn’t look so big or scary lying on the ground, but standing up he would loom over me. His eyes flicked open. I started to turn but froze when I spotted the notebook lying beside him. On impulse, I willed it into my hands, then I bolted.

I stumbled along, unsure of the way, trampling flowers and bumping into headstones and statues. I soon heard the loud noise of Culpepper running after me, spurring me onward. It was like being chased by a semitruck.

“Stop! That’s mine!” he bellowed.

I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder and saw he was even closer than he’d sounded. My terror quadrupled at the sight of him. The physical aspects of his demon heritage, usually hidden behind a glamour, were fully visible now, making him look even scarier. His eyes glowed electric green, and his horns looked like two curved daggers growing out from his skull. Any doubts I’d had that Culpepper was capable of murder vanished in an instant.

I swallowed a scream and looked forward again, running faster than ever.

Think, Dusty, think!
But it was so hard with fear clouding my brain. My breath came in short, painful gasps. I knew if I didn’t get a grip soon, he was going to catch up with me—and then what? I wanted to believe The Will would protect me, but I wasn’t about to test the theory. Besides, my dazing curse had worked even though it shouldn’t have. What if there was something wrong with The Will? Maybe Culpepper could attack
me
with magic.

The thought scared the fear right out of me. I ceased my pell-mell trek through the cemetery and started weaving in and around obstacles on purpose. I knew I needed to keep out of his direct line of sight if I had any hope of dodging an incoming spell. I flinched at every sound coming from behind me, the smallest twig snapping as loud as gunfire.

“Stop! Thief!”

At the sound of desperation in Culpepper’s voice, I clutched the notebook tighter, convinced it held the answers. I was getting tired, my breath coming in short, side-wrenching gasps and my strides faltering from legs that felt strained to the point of breaking. I needed to find help soon. But I was completely lost. No part of the cemetery looked familiar. I might even be running in circles.

Then at last, growing desperate myself, I turned and cast a befuddlement jinx over my shoulder. “
Ceno-crani!
”

The magic leaped out from my fingers in a streak of purple and struck Culpepper on the forehead. He blinked in surprise and stumbled sideways. He tried to right himself, but his legs weren’t working properly. He looked like a drunk person trying to walk the line for a sobriety test. I didn’t stick around to see how long it would last. I sped up again, already thinking of what spell to cast at him next. For the first time in my life, I was grateful gym was a required subject.

I pushed my way through a row of bushes, and my feet hit pavement. I looked up and spotted the familiar sloping spire of Monmouth Tower. I veered right down the sidewalk toward the Commons, hoping to find some police officers on patrol.

A dark figure appeared in the path in front of me, and I instinctively cast the dazing spell. A part of me knew this couldn’t possibly be Culpepper, but I couldn’t help it. The instinct to defend myself was too far in control now. He’d gotten the jump on me once before, after all.

The spell left my fingers and hit the mark. The figure grunted and fell. As I ran past, I glanced down at the person’s upturned face. When I realized it was Mr. Marrow, I skidded to a stop and spun around, heart in throat.

I knelt beside him, panting. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? I didn’t mean to, I was scared and—”

“Be quiet,” said Marrow.

I shut up, my stomach doing backflips. I’d been in trouble before, but never like this. I attacked a
teacher
! I stood and stepped away from him, deciding distance was best here.

But the anger I heard in Marrow’s voice was gone when he sat up a moment later and said, “That was some impressive spell work, Dusty, if a little uncalled for.” He rubbed his chest where the spell had struck.

“I didn’t mean to hit you. I don’t know why but The Will—”

“Doesn’t work as effectively on Nightmares as it does on other kinds,” interrupted Marrow as he pushed himself to his feet. He ran his hands over the back of his brown slacks, wiping away the dirt.

I gaped at him, trying to decide if he was serious. “But … why?”

He shook his head. “Not now and not here.” Marrow’s gaze took in my disheveled appearance. “Where have you been the last few hours? Half the school is out looking for you.”

“They are?” I finally remembered the notebook in my hands. I glanced down at it. The word
ledger
was written across the front in raised letters. That was odd. I opened it and saw the pages were full of numbers and abbreviations. This wasn’t a secret diary at all. It was probably some official record of maintenance parts.

And I’d
stolen
it.

“Indeed,” Marrow said, drawing my attention back to him. “Selene in particular was most distraught when you didn’t show up for class.”

I looked up at my teacher, tongue-tied and smarting with guilt. I hadn’t considered how Selene would react to my disappearance. This whole thing was nothing but a stupid, selfish,
pointless
stunt. Somebody get me the dunce cap.

The sound of footsteps pounding pavement distracted me from my self-berating. Marrow and I both turned to see Culpepper running toward us. The Metus demon slowed when he spotted Mr. Marrow, but the teacher’s presence did nothing to quell his anger. His eyes, still glowing that livid green, were fixed on the ledger in my hands.

He stopped a few feet away and said between pants, “This girl stole from me, sir. That book is
mine
. I want it back.”

Marrow raised a hand, silencing him. Then he addressed me. “Let me see it, Dusty.”

I handed it over. Marrow opened to some random section and examined the numbers filling the lined page. I took a second look myself, trying not to be obvious about it. Now that my initial shock at my blunder was wearing off, I wondered why Culpepper would be so upset about the theft of a ledger—assuming it was being used for legitimate reasons. What if it wasn’t? What if Culpepper was cooking the books, as they say? Or maybe he was running some kind of business on the side.

Marrow closed the ledger and looked at Culpepper.

“She’s been spying on me, sir,” Culpepper said, now sounding more sullen than angry. He had a broad face with a pointy nose. He wore his hair too short to determine the color, but his eyebrows were blond.

“I see,” said Marrow.

“And she used
spells
on me.
Illegal ones
.”

Marrow raised an eyebrow at him. “Illegal, you say?”

“Yes, sir. And I mean to press charges.”

Marrow’s brow rose even higher then fell. “Are you
sure
you want to do that given your recent trouble? I’m certain Sheriff Brackenberry will be most curious as to why you were chasing a student in the first place.”

Culpepper paled and shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t want that.”

“Yes, I thought so.”

Culpepper pointed a finger at me. “I won’t press charges, but you need to mind your own business and leave me alone.”

Like hell I will
. If anything, I was even more interested in what he was up to. Innocent people didn’t behave so shadily.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” said Marrow, handing the ledger back to Culpepper. “I suggest you move along quickly. The sheriff is on campus tonight.”

Culpepper didn’t need any more encouragement. With a final glare at me, he stalked off the way he’d come.

“I think it’s past time we talked, Dusty,” said Marrow. “Would you mind coming to my office?”

“Okay.” I tried not to sound reluctant, but probably failed. I was sweaty and exhausted and well aware that I was still in trouble.

I followed him into Monmouth Tower and up the winding staircase to his office on the third floor. He unlocked it and led me inside. A large desk occupied most of the room, its surface cluttered with books, sheets of paper, and various writing instruments. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with more books and an odd assortment of objects. An antique spyglass stood atop a wooden stand with a compass set beside it. The needle on the compass was spinning around as fast as a plane propeller. I wondered what it was supposed to point to, guessing it wasn’t north. One entire column of shelves was devoted to jars full of the herbs and chemicals used in alchemy.

Marrow walked around to the back of the desk and picked up the receiver on the rotary phone sitting among the clutter. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him. I sat down, and listened to the odd whirring sound as Marrow dialed.

A moment later he said into the receiver, “This is Marrow. I’ve found her … yes, she’s fine. She’ll be home in a bit … okay … thank you.” He hung up.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know that ditching would be such a big deal.”

Marrow sat in the desk chair and looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a big deal, as you say, because
you
are a big deal now.”

I swallowed. “Because I’m a dream-seer?”

He nodded. “You’ll want to be more careful in the future. That is, if you value what little freedom you still possess. Any more strange disappearances and the senate will assign you a full-time bodyguard.”

I grimaced. So my mom hadn’t been exaggerating after all. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you tell me what you were doing?”

I sighed and wondered if it was possible to blush so much your face stayed red permanently. “I saw Mr. Culpepper go into Coleville, and I wanted to see what he was doing. I heard he’s a suspect in Rosemary’s murder and thought he might be headed back to the scene of the crime or something.”

“Did he?”

“No.” I gave him a quick summary of what happened. When I finished, I asked the question most pressing on my mind. “How is it I was able to cast those spells?”

“You’re a Nightmare,” Marrow said as if this explained everything. “Your magic works differently from other magickind. You’re the exception to The Will’s rule. You just never had occasion to discover it before now.”

Marrow hesitated a moment, the age lines on his face deepening. “The things I’m about to tell you are not common knowledge. However, I’m a firm believer that people ought to know the truth. But you must promise you’ll keep the information to yourself as much as possible.”

“I promise.”

He took a deep breath. “Despite the senate’s attitude to the contrary, The Will is far from perfect. It has its chinks and weaknesses same as any spell. The Will-Workers who maintain and administer the spell are just as flawed as the rest of us and more than capable of mistakes. But The Will’s greatest weakness, its
blind spot,
you could say, concerns Nightmares. The reason The Will fails to control your kind is because of the fictus that feeds your magic. Fictus is the very essence of imagination. It is the one magical force that resides inside all sentient beings, enabling them to create, imagine, dream, and other such activities. Imagination cannot be controlled or predicted by a spell. It is one of the few powers in the world that is truly wild.”

“But I thought fictus was just a form of mind-magic?”

“That’s a misnomer.” Marrow rested his arms on the desk. “True mind-magic comes from thoughts generated by all those electrical impulses in the brain. Fictus comes from something more on the level of instinct than consciousness. It’s why a dreamer usually has no control over the subject of their dreams or why artists can rarely identify the source of their inspiration. Understand?”

I began to fidget with the zipper on my jacket. “I think so. But … if that’s true, how come this is the first time I’ve ever been able to do something restricted by The Will? I mean, it usually stops me the same as anybody.”

“Ah,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling. “There are two reasons for that. The first is you’re consuming a lot more magic than you used to. The second is that fictus-fed magic must be used on the level of imagination and not mere thought. Simply muttering the incantation and aiming for your target the way you’ve learned in school won’t work. You must wield the magic the same as you do inside a dream.”

“But I don’t use magic in dreams, normally.”