The Nightmare Affair (26 page)

“Leave her alone,” said Eli.

“I quite agree,” added Bethany, following me in.

Both boys startled at the sudden appearance of this strange, oversized woman in their dorm room.

“What are
you
doing here?” Lance said with his mouth hung open like a hooked fish. His fingers, which had been twirling a joker card, stilled mid-flip.

Bethany fixed a glare on him. “Not your concern, Mr. Rathbone.”

“But … you’re Bethany Grey, right?”

She gave him a mock bow. “So glad to know you’ve heard of me.”

Lance gulped. “Yeah, you work for Consul Vanholt. Sort of his personal … something or other.”

“Yes, that’s right, but no time to dwell on specifics. Off to bed with you.” Bethany shooed at Lance like a dog, and to my surprise, he obeyed, disappearing into the bedroom without a word.

Now it was me looking like the hooked fish. I’d never known Lance to be obedient to anybody. I stared at Bethany, feeling more curious about her than I ever had before. “
What
exactly do you do for the consul?”

She waved the question off and turned to Eli. “On to the sofa, young man, and hurry up.” She snapped her fingers. “We don’t have all night.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you here?”

I stifled a groan at Eli’s antagonistic attitude and jumped in between him and Bethany. “It’s okay,” I said, thumping his shoulder. “She’s a Nightmare, too. She’s going to teach me some things, so we’re both going to enter your dream.”

Eli frowned, eyeing the woman who stood nearly as tall as he did, which was saying something. “You’re not actually going to
sit
on me, are you?”

I hid a giggle even though I sympathized with his worry. Bethany would crush him.

She scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. A Nightmare doesn’t have to sit on your chest to enter your dream. That is merely the most effective position for creating a strong connection between dreamer and Nightmare. But only a single touch is necessary for entry. There are even some Nightmares powerful enough to enter your dreams from a distance.”

“There are?” I said.

Bethany glanced at me, frowning. “Didn’t you know?”

I shook my head.

“Not surprised. I’m sure Moira failed to teach you anything useful.”

“You’re probably right.” Seemed there were a few things Bethany could teach me after all.

“Humph,” Bethany said, although she sounded mollified.

Eli sat on the sofa, and we waited for him to fall asleep. Then Bethany and I moved into position on either side of him and entered the dream.

I was in the tunnels again and had to fight back panic. I managed it, but only because there wasn’t any sign of somebody on fire. Actually, there wasn’t any sign of anybody period, not even Eli.

I took off at a run, trying to find him. The tunnel curved around then ended at the threshold of a vast underground chamber. Lit torches hung at intervals around its circumference. The purple haze of the flames told me it was Everlasting Fire, created by a difficult spell that few magickind could perform.

In the center of the chamber, Eli stood next to what looked like a raised altar with a long, rectangular box set on top of it that seemed to be made of some pale crystal. Facets of it twinkled in the light of the purple flames.

Eli spotted me and shouted from across the room, “What is this place?”

“No idea,” I hollered back.

Bethany emerged from the tunnel next to me and the two of us headed into the chamber.

“You’ve never been here before?” I asked Eli when I reached the raised altar.

“Nope.” He was staring fixedly at the box, which was indeed made from some kind of crystal.

I stared, too, taking in the engravings on its side like the kind you might find on a tomb. Then it clicked. It
was
a tomb. I could just make out the form of a body inside it.

I put my hand on the side of it, surprised to find the surface warm. My gaze focused on the engravings, which depicted some ancient, magickind battle. The people carried wands and staffs along with swords, shields, and bows. I’d seen such images before in my history textbook, but none of them came close to capturing the visceral detail here.

Although the figures were posed in different combative postures, they were all bent toward the middle like two armies converging on a battlefield. The three figures in the center were larger and more intricate than the others, two men and a woman. One of the men lay on the ground, clutching at the sword sticking out of his chest. The other stood with his back to the woman who was covering his eyes with her hands. The man looked like he was in the process of falling down. The woman’s expression was impossible to see clearly on the crystal surface, but I thought there was something both sad and victorious about her posture.

My gaze drifted up from the woman’s face to the sky, where a huge bird hovered over the people’s heads, wings outstretched. Like hearing the opening notes of a familiar song on the radio, recognition hummed inside me at the sight of it.

“Eli,” I said, pointing. “Do you see what I see?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s the black phoenix.”

“How can you tell?” said Bethany, approaching the tomb for a closer look.

“Because we’ve seen it.” A humorless smile curled one side of Eli’s lips. “A lot.”

I scrutinized Bethany’s face, trying to read her expression. “Do
you
know what it is? Or
who
it is?”

Bethany met my eyes. “Nobody’s told you?”

I flipped my hair back behind my shoulder. “Well, no, but we haven’t exactly asked.”

“Hmmm, I suppose if the senate wanted you to know, someone would’ve told you before now.”

“Oh, that’s
great
.” Eli waved his hands through the air. “Because leaving the people with the ability to stop these murders clueless about everything makes
so
much sense.”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” said Bethany. “The subject is restricted.”

I motioned to the vast chamber. “I’m pretty sure nobody can hear us inside a dream.”

“You’re mistaken.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously? Somebody can spy on us here?”

“Only another Nightmare, but yes. They can even influence the dream if they’re powerful enough. But don’t worry, your mother
isn’t
.”

I frowned, uncertain if she was being honest or just spiteful. “If my mom can’t listen in then there’s no problem with you telling us the truth. I mean, there’s no risk of being overheard since you and I are the only other Nightmares around.”

“Besides,” added Eli. “We already know what the killer is after, so what’s the harm in learning the truth about the phoenix?”

A smug expression rose on Bethany’s face. “You couldn’t possibly know what the killer is after.”

“Wanna bet?” said Eli, equally smug. “It’s the power source for The Will spell. Excalibur.”

Bethany looked like she’d just swallowed something sour. “Who told you? Was it Moira?” She turned her glare on me.

“Um, yes,” I said, taking a gamble with the truth.

“So she told you about the sword and not the identity of the black phoenix? How typical.”

“I know, right? I mean, I’m sure she had her reasons, but I’m equally sure they’re in
her
best interest and not the senate’s.”

Bethany nodded, vigorously. I stifled a smile, pleased that my mother’s bad reputation was working in my favor for once.

Bethany took a step closer to the tomb and traced a finger over the phoenix’s outline. I shivered, remembering the eerie, hypnotic sound of the bird’s cry.

“Only one black phoenix has ever existed,” Bethany said. “The familiar of the greatest and most feared magickind ever to be. A wizard who has been called by many names throughout history. His last title was the Red Warlock. But in ordinary folklore, he’s known as Merlin.”

Eli chuckled. “Merlin? Are you kidding me?”

“What’s so funny?” asked Bethany.

“It’s just hard to take the idea seriously when you’ve grown up seeing Merlin as this crazy old wizard who’s always tripping over his beard in cartoons. Hard to picture that guy having a familiar as fierce as the black phoenix we’ve seen.”

I sympathized with Eli’s point, but it was no different than the Tinkerbell version of fairies. If Merlin had been so great and fearsome, then the Magi would’ve softened his image on purpose to make people forget how dangerous the real man had been.

Only the “had been” wasn’t right, if I understood the implications of what Bethany said. I asked, “But if the Red Warlock has a phoenix for a familiar does that mean he’s immortal?”

“Yes,” said Bethany. “Through his bond with the bird, he has died and been reborn many times. Some say his existence predates the ancient Egyptians.”

“Oh-kay.” I paused, trying to digest the information. “So in other words, the Red Warlock,
Merlin,
could still be alive today even though the Arthur legend is like a thousand years old.”

Bethany wagged a finger at me. “Not
could
be alive. There’s never been any doubt he lives. What has been in doubt is whether or not he’s currently awake and wandering around Arkwell’s campus.”

I blinked. “What do you mean
awake
?”

Bethany grimaced. “Don’t you know the story ordinaries tell about what happened to Merlin?”

“Uh, no.”

“I do,” said Eli. “There’re lots of different versions, but most say he was imprisoned in some kind of magical tomb by a witch named Niviane or some such.”

I gaped at him, surprised by the depth of his knowledge on the subject.

“What?” he said, shrugging. “I have sort of a thing for mythology and folklore.”

Yeah, that might be even cuter than the cop stuff.

Bethany turned a pointed gaze at me. “Nimue was her real name. And she wasn’t a witch, but a
Nightmare
.”

I swayed on my feet. Nimue was my mother’s maiden name. There was too much coincidence here, too many threads that seemed interwoven in a deliberate pattern.

Bethany said, “Nimue imprisoned the Red Warlock in a
dream
. That’s what you’re seeing depicted here.” She pointed at the tomb and the woman standing behind the man. “And until a couple of weeks ago, when you first saw the black phoenix in Eli’s dream, we believed him still imprisoned.”

“Well, is he or isn’t he?” Eli stooped toward the engraving once more.

Bethany sighed. “Nobody can say for sure. The Red Warlock’s tomb isn’t in America but somewhere in Britain. The senate has asked the Magi Parliament over there to confirm whether or not his body is still inside but they either don’t know or are unwilling to tell us for some reason.”

“Nice,” said Eli. He pointed at the second man on the tomb, the one with the sword sticking out of his chest. “Who’s this guy supposed to be then?”

“King Arthur,” said Bethany.

Eli opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “The senate thinks it’s the Red Warlock behind the murders, don’t they?”

“Most likely, given the regular appearance of the black phoenix in Eli’s dreams.” Bethany paused. “Or it
could
be someone trying to free him from the tomb by using the sword. Impossible to know for sure. There aren’t any recorded pictures of the actual man. Some say he cursed his own image a long time ago to prevent his likeness being recorded. He could be anybody. Young or old, there’s no telling. But it’s certain that if the Red Warlock has escaped he will come after Excalibur.”

“Why?” asked Eli, straightening up.

“Because it belongs to him. Always has.”

“But wait,” said Eli. “If Merlin was entombed in Britain why is his sword in America?”

Bethany shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “The Magi governments decided a long time ago it was best to keep as much distance between the sword and wizard as possible. So it was brought to the States and hidden away somewhere around here in case the Red Warlock ever escaped.”

“You mean like he might’ve done now,” said Eli.

“Precisely.”

I wanted to know more about the true history of the sword, but something more pressing occurred to me. “Do you think
this
is Merlin’s tomb?” I bent close to the crystal surface, cupping the sides of my face with my hands as I tried to see into it.

“I don’t know,” said Bethany.

“Let’s find out.” Eli put his hands on top of the tomb’s lid and pushed. He strained so hard he groaned, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I think you need some kind of key to open it.” Bethany pointed at a round hole just above the phoenix’s head. She was probably right, except I saw two similar holes on each end as well, and none of them looked like normal keyholes.

“No, we don’t,” said Eli. “This is a dream. Come on, Dusty, force it open.”

I shook my head. If Merlin was in there, I didn’t want to risk freeing the black phoenix. I was learning not to believe that everything in dreams wasn’t real.

“You truly think she’s strong enough to open it when you weren’t?” asked Bethany, her tone sarcastic.

“She can
dream
it open,” said Eli, “or whatever it is she does to change the stuff in here. She’s done it before.”

Bethany turned her fierce gaze on me. “You’ve been
manipulating
the content of his dreams?”

I fidgeted beneath her admonishing look. “Um, yeah, a little bit. I thought that was normal for Nightmares.”

Eli snorted his disagreement on my definition of little, but thankfully he didn’t elaborate.

“Is that bad?” I asked, guessing the answer already as I remembered how worn-out Eli had appeared the morning after I’d forced his dream to show us Rosemary’s death. Not to mention the furious way Bethany had reacted when my mom had done the same to hers. At the time I figured it was just Bethany’s animosity toward all things Moira.

“
Very,
” Bethany said, nostrils flaring. “It’s dangerous to manipulate dreams. The more you do the more fictus you drain from your victim. Of course, if you’d come to your dream training sessions with me, you would know that.” She pointed a finger at Eli. “She can trap you in your own dream forever if she’s not careful.”