The Nightmare Affair (31 page)

“The sword
must
be destroyed,” Moira said.

I took a step forward. “No. I won’t let you.”

“I don’t have time for this right now.” She turned toward the sword once more.

I raised my hand and pointed. “Hypno-soma.”

Nothing happened.

My mother turned back, outrage on her face. “What the hell?”

I tried again. Still nothing.

My mother cast her own dazing curse to the same effect. It wasn’t like how The Will absorbed magic, but as if there weren’t any magic at all, like we were in some kind of magic-free zone. Mom and I came to the same conclusion at the same time, and we both sprinted for the sword. She reached it first, but I crashed into her, knocking her to the ground.

My mother was more experienced at fighting than me, but she wasn’t stronger or faster. Neither of us played by any rules. We pulled hair and bit and kicked and scratched. I saw a nasty-looking wound on Moira’s side that looked as if something had taken a bite out of her, probably one of those wolf-scorpion things. I tried my hardest to grab hold of it.

She caught onto this strategy at once, and before I knew it she managed to get behind me, pin her arms around my neck, and cut off my ability to breathe. I clawed at her, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Stop fighting me, Destiny,” Moira said. “You’ve got to trust me. I’m your mother. I don’t want to hurt you, but the sword has to be destroyed.”

Panic was a living thing inside me, a demon that had possessed me, making me thrash and kick.

Through my hazy vision, I saw something approach the dome. My mother’s grip loosened as she saw it, too, and I was able to take a full breath. Then we both gaped in surprise as Bethany Grey emerged from the water beyond.

Moira whispered in my ear with a note of panic in her voice, “You’ve got to help me, Destiny. Beth’s the villain here, not me.”

I bit back my automatic denial of this lie and nodded. Bethany had been looking intently at me, sending me a silent message—she was here to help. Together we could overcome.

Moira let go of me, not once disbelieving my nod of agreement. As soon as I was free, I turned on her, Bethany jumping to help me. Mom was no match for the two of us, and when we finally managed to pin her down, Bethany was heavy enough to keep her there.

“Get the sword. I’ll hold her until you’re out,” Bethany said.

I fought back guilt at the sight of my mother struggling to break free. “Don’t hurt her,” I said.

Bethany bobbed her head, her face pinched with effort.

I approached the sword cautiously, both afraid and mesmerized by it. The hilt looked made of bone, and strange rune marks ran down the blade. I wrapped my hands around the hilt, and raw energy shot through me so hard it almost knocked me over. But I held on and yanked upward.

Resistance. Something held the sword in place. I squatted down and pulled with everything I had. Finally, slowly, the sword began to move. When it at last came free of its earthen sheath, I saw why it had been so difficult to remove. A woman was clawing her way out of the lake bed from the place where the sword had been, like a zombie emerging from a grave.

Only she wasn’t some monster, but Nimue, her face ageless and familiar. Our gazes locked on each other, and I could sense her appraisal. A moment later she nodded, and the last of the resistance on the sword vanished.

“Go,” Nimue whispered.

I shut my eyes, but I had no idea how to bring the sword out of the dream. I’d only done such a thing once before with the Milky Way, but that had been unintentional. Still, there was nothing else to do but try. Holding the sword tightly, I
imagined
myself bringing it out.

Nothing happened. I couldn’t leave the dream at all, sword or no. I looked around, fighting back alarm.

“You must take it beyond the dome,” Nimue said, and her voice was like a soothing balm on my nerves. “But don’t let him have it.
Never
let him have it.”

I watched her slowly sinking back into the lake bed. Then casting one last glance at Bethany and my mother, I dashed for the dome’s edge and plunged through it into the cold, dark water. It seemed all the creatures out there were waiting for me, unspeakable things with red eyes and forked tongues. I closed my eyes and tried again, willing myself and the sword out of the dream.

For a terrible moment, nothing happened. The creatures closed in. Something hard and scaly brushed against my leg. Then with a jolt, my consciousness rejoined my body. I opened my eyes and saw the sword was still in my hands.

I stood up, my limbs trembling both from the terror of Nimue’s dream and grief over my mother, but also from joy at my victory.

Something was wrong.

Eli and Selene were lying on the floor a few feet away from the tomb in the same position as we’d found Bethany, wrists and ankles bound with silver rope. They were gagged as well with more silver rope. Paul stood over them.

My brain couldn’t make sense of it. “What are you doing?”

Paul looked at me, but before he could answer a familiar voice spoke from my left. “Anything I ask him to. Anything at all.”

I jerked my head in the direction of the voice and saw Mr. Marrow standing there, looking at the sword in my hand with something more than curiosity. He walked over, a broad smile on his face. “Well done, Dusty. You’ve far exceeded my expectations. Now, hand over my sword.”

His sword?
I blinked at him.

Then I remembered what Bethany had said about how the Red Warlock could be anybody. Was it possible? Could it have been Marrow all along?

That was when I noticed it. There, perched on the end of the tomb and staring at me with the same look of satisfaction as its master, was the real black phoenix. It was even more fierce and terrible than it had been in Eli’s dreams.

24

The Red Warlock

“But that means you’re … you’re…” I couldn’t say it out loud. The words wouldn’t come.

“Merlin is the name you’re looking for, I believe. Although it’s the wrong name,” said Marrow.

“But it
can’t
be you.”

“Oh, but it is. I warned you, didn’t I? That the killer was clever enough to use you without you knowing it.”

I gritted my teeth. “You didn’t use me.”

A sneer twisted Marrow’s features. “Are you so sure? I’m the one who told your mother what the Keeper spell was guarding. I’m the one who planted in her mind the idea of telling you as a way to scare you off. But I knew your reaction would be just the opposite. A rebellious nature is so easily predictable.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t, as a sickening feeling rose up in the pit of my stomach. Beside me, the black phoenix crooned, as if to mock me.

“I
needed
you to know about the sword, you see,” Marrow continued. “You’re the dream-seer. I needed you to find the location of this tomb for me. You’ve done well. I’m grateful. Now give me my sword.”

I shook my head, but it was pointless. Marrow raised his wizard’s staff toward me, free of its cane glamour, and with one casual flick, he ripped the sword from my hands. He heaved a sigh as he grasped the hilt. The look on his face was like someone welcoming home a lover. He dropped his cane, seized the sword with both hands, and waved it over his head in a circle. A shower of magic rained out from the tip and sprayed downward around him, obscuring him from sight for a moment.

When the magic cleared, he no longer wore his usual suit but a crimson cloak over a pair of loose-fitting black pants and undershirt. His face was changed as well. He looked younger, his skin less careworn and wrinkled. Yet he was older, too, ageless like Nimue. It seemed his transformation was complete. The teacher I’d known was gone, an ancient, evil wizard in his place. For there was no denying he was evil. He’d murdered those people. It took all the courage I possessed not to run away screaming.

“Is it done then?” asked Paul. He sounded both relieved and anxious. I looked at him, my chest seizing from a literal heartache. I couldn’t believe he was involved. It seemed impossible. He’d even tried to stop us from coming this way. Why?

Marrow turned his gaze to Paul, eyes assessing. “See for yourself.” With a flick of the sword, he sent his staff flying across the room into Paul’s outstretched hands. “Give it a try on the girl.”

Before I knew what Marrow meant, Paul turned toward Selene, pointed the staff, and said, “Ana-acro.”

Selene’s body rose into the air, hoisted by the silver rope around her wrists. She shrieked in pain, limbs straining. I gaped at Paul’s sudden ability to do magic.

Jumping off the tomb, I shouted the counter-spell. The magic surged out from my fingers, but Marrow deflected it with a spell from the sword. No, not deflected. He
absorbed
it into the sword like The Will always did.

Whoever controls the sword, controls The Will,
my mom had said. The Will didn’t work on Nightmares, yet the sword did. I couldn’t understand it.

“There’s no point in trying to attack,” Marrow said. “Your spell casting has certainly improved, but it’s no match for me. And I wouldn’t try running away, either. Phoenixes fly very fast, you know.” The bird crooned as if in emphasis, the sound as beautiful and deadly as it had been in the dream.

Paul lowered a now-whimpering Selene back to the ground, breaking the spell. Beside her, Eli looked fit to kill.

I stared at Paul, the truth clawing at my insides. “You’re the F from Rosemary’s diary, aren’t you? It was never Culpepper.”

He nodded. “Paul
Foster
Kirkwood. I’ve no idea why Rose fixated on my middle name, but it did its job in hiding my identity.”

“How
could
you?”

He flinched before his expression hardened. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be so powerless. To be
hated
by your own family. Your own
mother
.”

“But you killed them. Rosemary and Mr. Ankil.”

“I didn’t … kill … only … helped.”

“
Why
?” I choked on the emotions raging through me at his betrayal. He’d used me as he had Rosemary. None of the things we’d shared had been real.

“Leave him be,” Marrow said. “Paul did what he had to do to be free.”

I glowered at Marrow. “Free from
what
?”

“It was only The Will preventing him from using magic. But the spell, at least as you knew it, is no more, due in no small amount to Paul. This sword has the ability to absorb magic and to hold it like a reservoir, making it possible for The Will to work on magickind. But the spell wasn’t intended for them. I created it as a weapon against the ordinaries who persecuted us. A thousand years ago magickind were far fewer in number and most of us lived in isolation, easily overpowered by the sheer number of ordinaries. The spell gave me control over the mind and will of mankind, forcing them into submission where they belonged. Where they would be now if the Magi had never stolen the sword and spell from me.”

I gaped at his lunacy. It was like listening to the magical reincarnation of Hitler. “What does this have to do with Paul?”

Marrow pointed the sword downward, resting the tip of the blade on the floor. “The only reason Paul couldn’t do magic is because the Magi and their Will-Workers manipulated my spell to prevent
halfkinds
from using their powers at all. Most of them, anyway.”

I scoffed. “Why would they do that?”

Marrow straightened up to his full height. He seemed so much taller and imposing now. “Because they feared halfkinds above all others.
I
am halfkind, the first one ever born. Half-wizard and half-demon but more powerful than either. That’s the way it works, usually. The Magi don’t approve of anyone more powerful than they are, so they enforced sterility through the spell as a way to stop the kinds from interbreeding. Not anymore though. Now
I
control The Will. And you’ve helped set so many free, Dusty. You should be proud.”

I wasn’t. Choked by guilt, I understood the full weight of what I’d done. All that magic no longer in check. But I hadn’t done it on purpose. I didn’t know what I was doing.

You didn’t think,
that nasty voice whispered in my head.
You never stop to think
.

Marrow’s gaze shifted from me to the tomb, and I turned to see that Bethany Grey had returned from the dream. For a moment my heart leaped, convinced that here was the answer to getting out of this. Together we might be able to overcome the Red Warlock.

She smiled at Marrow, her face shining in triumph.

“Well done, Bethany,” he said.

“But…,” I stammered. “You’re working for
him
?”

Bethany’s grin widened.

“Then my mother…”

“Was trying to destroy the sword before I could get to it,” Bethany said, stepping down.

“But your finger…”

“Cut it off myself. Self-maiming is the only way to survive the breaking of a Keeper spell, don’t you know.”

I shivered, but my disgust at her actions quickly turned to anger. “You
tricked
me.”

“No,” said Marrow, clucking his tongue. “You tricked yourself. Paul told me how easily you suspected your mother once I told you the truth about your kind. And of course, my encouragement of her only helped. She’s also been doing her own search to find me, but her actions only made her look more suspicious. Still, she almost succeeded in getting the sword first. She might have if she had shared what she found out. But she didn’t. I suppose you can blame it on her distrust of everyone. Even you.”

I shook my head, wanting to deny it.

Marrow looked at Bethany. “Where is Moira now?”

“Dead,” Bethany replied.

A terrible pressure seized my lungs, and I swayed on my feet, unable to breathe. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Then I realized my mother was no longer sitting upright in the dream-feeding position, but had slumped forward, lying as still as someone … someone … dead.

An anguished cry escaped my throat, the sound a pale, pitiful reflection of the despair raging inside me. “You killed her. You killed her!
I’ll kill you
.” I bounded toward Bethany.