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ToPhilipGarybush,foralwaysbeingthere

Acknowledgments

This is it. The end. Of ALLTHE THINGS. Just kidding.ButitistheendofDustyandEli’s story andmy very first

series.It’sbittersweet.Apartofmewishesthisstorywouldgo on forever, but anotherpart of me appreciates theclosure. I hope you do, too,dearreaders.

Firstly, and as always,thankstoGodandhisSon.

Mybiggestthanksgoestomy editor, Whitney Ross,who saw the potential inDusty’s story and gave her

three whole books to have itplayed out. Thank you alsofor your infinite patience,your insight, and yourongoingsupport.Also,thanksto themarvelous teamatTorTeen, the best place a writercould call home—AmyStapp, assistant editor; LisaDavis, my production editor;Seth Lerner, the art director;Jane Liddle, the copy editor;

Alexis Saarela, my publicist;John Morrone, theproofreader; and, of course,Tom Doherty and KathleenDoherty.

As always, thanks to myfierce,wonderfulagent,SuzieTownsend,andtherestofthecrew at New Leaf Literaryand Media: Joanna Volpe,Kathleen Ortiz, PouyaShahbazian, David Caccavo,

Mackenzie Brady, DanielleBarthel,andJaidaTemperly.

No book exists withoutoutside help, and I’mfortunate to have awesomefriends to call upon. Thanksto my critique partners andbeta readers: Lori M. Lee,Amanda Sharritt, and JasonSharritt.Andaspecialshout-out to my language guru,Junius Johnson. Also, thanks

to my family, Adam, Inara,and Tanner—you’re mydreamscometrue.

And, finally, thanks to allthereaderswho’vestuckwithme this long. Librarians,teachers, bloggers, teens—you’re all special to me;you’re all magical beings. Iwish Icouldgiveyoueachahug. Please keep on readingandspreadingthatmagic.

1

LastKiss

Ihadnoideathatthefirstkiss

wouldbethelast.Thelastfreeonethatwas,

the only oneEli and I didn’thave to steal or keep hiddenlikesometerriblesecret.

No, I had no idea whatwas coming as I stood infront of the bathroommirrorand reapplied my cherry lipglossforthefourthtime.

“You know, Dusty,”Selene said from outside the

door where she was hangingposters on the wall of ournew dorm room, two floorsupfromouroldone.“Despitewhat the packaging mightclaim, I don’t think it’sactually possible to increasethe size of your lips byputtingonlayers.”

Suppressing a nervouslaugh, I turned and steppedout into the living room

portionofthesuite.Wewerejuniors this year, and thatmeant a larger dorm,complete with a privatebathroom. Selene and I hadplans toburnourold showershoes in a celebratory ritualthisweekend.

I fixed her with the mostserious stare I couldmanage.“Areyousure?Thisismagiclipgloss,youknow.”

Selene snorted. “I don’tbelieve you.” She held outherhand,andIsetthelipstickcanister on her palm. Sheturned it over in her fingers,andthenraisedittoeyeleveltoreadthelabel.

“ThisisinFrench.”“That’s because I bought

it in Paris.” The memorybroughta fleetinggrin tomyface. Despite the emotional

challenges I’d faced duringmy summer vacation spenttouring Europe—being cutoff from my friends; stuckwith only my mother forcompany; and mostespecially, going weeks onend without a single wordfrom the literal boy of mydreams, Eli Booker—thephysical experiencehadbeenfun. The lip balm was an

impromptupurchaseatalittleshop called the IncantoriumEmporium.Itwasthekindofplace that only servedmagickind. Probably a goodthing,givenitslocationinsidea secret alcove in the Pariscatacombs. Nothing saidmagical and charming like abunchofskeletons.

“So I gathered,” Selenesaidwithahintofenvyinher

voice. Her summer hadn’tbeenquiteasexotic,althoughIwould’vetradedplaceswithher in a hot second. She’dspent the last eleven weekshanging out with herboyfriend—late-night strollsby the lake, trips to themovies,not tomentionhoursof kissing, or so I guessed.Even ifSelenewere thekindof girl to make out and tell,

shewouldn’thavechosenmeas her confidant. Partiallybecause I wasn’t thrilledabout her reconciliation withmy sometimes tormenter andregular jackass LanceRathbone,butmostlybecauseshe knew all too well howlittle kissing I’d been doinglately.

Asituationthatwasabouttochange.

Aflockofbutterfliestookflight inside my stomach. Ifoughttokeepthetremoroutof my voice, my wordscoming rapidly. “Yeah, theshopowner toldme ithasanamore charm on it. At least,that’swhatI thoughthesaid.His accent was pretty thick,andIdon’tthinkhelikedmeatall.HewasaMorsdemonand you know how they feel

about Nightmares. I mean,then again, pretty mucheverybodyhatesNight—”

“Dusty.” Selene grabbedmy shoulders and gaveme ashake.“You’rebabbling.”

I gulped, trying to settlethe butterflies, but they onlyincreased their frenzy,becoming hummingbirdsinstead, wings on turbospeed.“Sorry. I can’thelp it.

I’mnervous.”Selenesmiled.Thegesture

was so radiant it made myhead spin, and for a secondthe hummingbirds froze,stunned by an unexpectedonslaught of bliss. That wasthe trouble with having asiren for a best friend—random moments ofdazedness.Notthatitwasherfault.Shecouldn’thelpbeing

beautiful and mesmerizing.NomorethanIcouldhelptheway my eyes glow in thedark, an aspect of myNightmare heritage. At themoment, however, I had afeeling Selene wasn’t awareof just how much moredazzling she was being thannormal. I suspected it mighthave something to do withLance.

“You’ve no reason to benervous,” Selene said, hersmileeasingenough tomakethe radiance tolerable. “Youlookbeautiful.”

I shook my head andstepped back. “It’s not that.It’s…” Ibrokeoff, searchingfor the right words. Looksweren’t theproblem. I didn’tfeel beautiful, exactly, but Iknew I was looking nice,

slightly above my averagestate. My makeup was evenandnatural,andI’dmanagedtoconvincemyfrizzyredhairto lieflatforoncewithsomehelp from Magick Madam’sHair Pomade, anotherpurchase from theIncantorium Emporium.Outfit wise, I’d opted for apair of low-rise designerjeansandapalepinkknittop,

the kind that hangs loosearoundtheshoulders,thatmymom bought me from aboutiqueinItaly.

No, looks weren’t theproblem.

Timewas.Nearly three months had

gonebysinceI’dlastseenEliin person. And though I hadno reason to believe hisfeelings formehad changed,

I hadnoproof theywere thesame either. We hadn’tspoken on the phone at all,and the e-mailshadbeen toofew and too brief. I hadn’thad access to my cell phoneallsummer—themomentourplane touched down inLondon,mymomconfiscatedit.Sheclaimeditwasbecauseof the high internationalcellularcharges.Yeahright.

That was the worst of it.None of the adults in ourlives wanted us to betogether.Everybodyfrommymother to magickindgovernment officials weretryingtokeepusapart.Itwasthe primary reason for myimpromptu summer vacationabroad.Buttheirrationalefordoing so was just a stupidsuperstition. Eli and I were

dream-seers; together wecould predict the future anduncoversecretsthroughsignsand symbols inEli’s dreams,agiftthatmadeusinvaluabletothemagickindgovernment.So far we’d stopped amurderous, power-madwarlock who styled himselfas the next Hitler, and we’dprevented the magickindisland capital of Lyonshold

from sinking into the watersofLakeErie.

The only catch to ourability, the only price, cameintheformofacurse—ifEliand Iwere to fall in lovewewould be doomed to destroyeachother.I don’t believe it. I refuse

tobelieveit.Drawing a deep breath, I

let it out slowly. “What if

he’schangedhismind?”“Aboutwhat?”Selenesaid

half-laughing, half-exasperated. “About you?Notachance.”

Relief swept over me ather words and even more attheattitudebehind them.Shewas so certain, so happy andoptimistic.Not at all like thebestfriendthatI’dleftbehindat the beginning of the

summer. That Selenewould’ve been careful in herreassurance,logicalabouttheargument.Not so carefree. Itwas a nice change. A smilebroke across my face. “Whoare you and what have youdonewithmybestfriend?”

Seleneblinked.Inthelowdorm room light, her eyeslooked indigo in color. Herglossy black hair hung in a

thickbraidoverhershoulder.“Whatdoyoumean?”

“Never mind. I just thinkwe need to have a long talkabout your summer vacation.Later.”Ipulledmycelloutofmy front pocket and pressedthe home button, lighting upthe screen: 10:46 P.M. Myheart rate quickened, thehummingbirds taking flightagain.Elisaidtomeethimat

11:00. If I left now I wouldmake it righton time,maybeeven one or two minutesearly. The walk would beeasy since I’d opted for flatsinsteadofheels.

But did I want to arriverightontime?WouldIappeartooeager?Desperate?

With my anticipationwaveringtowardfrustration,Iopened the phone to the text

screen and reread Eli’smessage.

I’mfinallyoncampus.Thinkyoucansneakout?Meetmeatmydormat11:00?

I’d immediately typedback a yes. I didn’t have toask him for his new room

number.Selenealreadyknewit.LancewasEli’sroommateagain this year, and he’dmovedinyesterday.

“Okay,” Selene said, stillpuzzled. One slender darkeyebrow sat higher than theother. “Later then. Shouldn’tyoubegoing?”

I bit my lip. “I don’tknow.ShouldI?”

Selene cleared her throat.

“So who are you and whathave you done withmy bestfriend?”

“What?”“You’re usually not this

indecisive. Normally it’s allact first, think it over later.”Openingmymouth to argue,she cut me off with a raisedhand. “Go on. Eli is waitingfor you. Don’t waste timepretending you feel anything

less than what you actuallydo.”Speaking from

experience? I wanted to askbutdidn’t.Ialreadyknewtheanswer.Returningmycell tomy pocket, I headed out thedoor. I made it five steps,debated whether or not Ishould brushmy teeth again,then forced myself to walkdown the hallway to the

staircase.The only drawback to the

upperclassmandormswasthelongertrek.Itrotteddownthelast two flights of stairs,battling with nerves thewhole way. I slowed as Ireached the foyer. Twomagically animated suits ofarmorstoodguardatthedoor—Frank and Igor, or so I’ddubbed them freshman year.

Atthesoundofmyapproach,theyturnedtheirfacestowardme, blank empty slots insidetheirhelmetswheretheireyesshould have been. Havingthemlookatyoulikethatwascreepyonagoodnight,butinmy current nervous state itwas downright terrifying. Ihadno idea if theywould letmepass.

Technically speaking, I

didn’t have permission to beout after hours tonight.But Iwas hoping Frank and Igorwouldn’t know that. I was aNightmare,afterall,andtheywere used to my late-nightschedule. Last year, I’d beenallowedoutofthedormthreenights a week to dream-feedwith Eli.Well, on Eli, to bemore specific.Even though Iwashalfhuman I still had to

dream-feedtofuelmymagic.“Hey,guys,”Isaid,giving

a little wave. “Did you missme?”

Blankstares.“I’lltakethatasayes.”Moreblankstares.“But listen, I’m on my

way to a dream-feedingsession.OkayifIpass?”

Blank stares to the nthpower.

Aweak feeling struckmykneesandsweatbrokeoutonthe back ofmy neck. If theydidn’t let me through, I wasgoing to have a meltdown.Nervous or not, I had myheart set on seeing Elitonight.Theskinonmywristbegan to warm beneath thesilver band Iwore there, andit occurred to me I couldalways force my way

through,withmagic.But a second later, they

turned their sightless gazesaway from me and pulledtheir spears fully upright.Takingthatasayes,Ihurriedpastthem.

Outsidethewarmdayhadturned to a cool night. Acloudless sky drenched instarscastsilverlightoverthecampus. The buildings at

ArkwellAcademycameinanassortment of architecturalstyles, everything fromGothic to neoclassical tobaroque. I never paid muchattention to the variationbefore, but after nearly threemonths of sightseeing inEurope, I’d developed akeener eye—and vocabulary.Rather than look tacky, theeffect of so many styles in

one place was to makeArkwellfeellikeeveryplace,the entire world situated insometwothousandacres.

Ireachedthebelltoweratthecenterofcampuswithoutspotting anyone, but as Irounded the corner aroundMonmouth Tower, my heartlurchedat thesightofoneoftheWillGuardwalkingdownthe path toward me. Crap. I

didn’t think these magickindversionsofrent-a-copswouldbebackthisyear,notaftersomanyofthemhadbeeninonthe plan to sink Lyonshold.But it seemed I was wrong.This particular Will Guardwasn’t one I’d seen before,but there was no mistakingtheredtunicandblackpants.

Decidingitwastoolatetogo around, I raisedmyhead,

feigningconfidence.“What are you doing out

at this hour?” the womansaid,comingtoahaltinfrontofme. Isawatonce thatshewas witchkind; she carried awand made of some darkwood in her right hand. Thename Bollinger wasembroidered in gold acrossthe left breast of her tunicbeneaththeMagiSenatecrest

ofthetree,wand,andflame.“I’m on my way to a

dream-feeding session,” Isaid, somehow managing tosound steady despite thetremble inmymuscles. “I’maNightmare.”

Bollinger stared back atme, unblinking, faceexpressionless.

“Um.” I bitmy lower lip.“You know, a Nightmare? I

have to dream-feed? Late atnight? While people aresleeping?” I hadn’t meantevery phrase to come out aquestion, but they hadanyway.

The woman’s lips twistedintoafrown.“IknowwhataNightmareis.”That’s a relief, I thought,

wise enough to keep it tomyself. See, Selene was

wrong; I could totally thinkbeforeacting.

The woman’s eyesnarrowed on my face.“You’re the one who brokeTheWill,aren’tyou?”

A chill snaked down myspine at the venom in hervoice. Her dislike was clearas freshlyWindexedglass. Itwouldn’t be the first timesomeone disliked me on

principle. Nightmares oftenprovoked that reaction inother magickind, thanks toour bloody, evil history, oneso violent that there werehardly any more Nightmaresaround.But this time Ihadafeelingitwasmorepersonal.

The shakiness in mymuscleschangedtotension—not from nerves butanticipation, like an athlete

momentsbeforethestartofacompetition.Theskinaroundmy left wrist began to warmagainbeneaththesilverband,the sensationall too familiar.Ontheoutsideitlookedlikeathick bracelet, but on theinside, hidden beneath aglamour, it wasn’t anythingso benign. I reached for theband instinctively, twisting itaround on my wrist. It was

hottothetouch.“Technically, I didn’t

break it. I just made itpossible for it to be broken.”Speakinghadbeenamistake.A lie would’ve been better,but itwas hard to thinkwiththe tension coursing throughme, the burning inmywrist.When that happened all Iwanted to do was disengagethe glamour on the bracelet

and reveal the sword hiddenbeneathit.

Not just any sword, butBellanax, the sword oflegend, sword of power.Ancient and infinitelymagical, it had been knownby many names over thecenturies,includingExcaliburand,most recently, TheWillsword. Yes, this objectaround my wrist was what

hadmade TheWill possible.It was the power source forthe spell that had oncecontrolled and policed allmagicuse.

But I couldn’t revealBellanax, no matter howmuch I wanted to. FewpeopleknewIhadpossessionofthesword,andIneededtokeepitthatway—ifIwantedtostayalive.

Resistingtheurgetobreaktheglamour,Ifocusedonthewomaninfrontofme.

Her frown had become asnarl. “I don’t care abouttechnicalities. What I careabout is having my jobreduced to this.” She wavedherhandthroughtheairas ifto indicate theentireexpanseofArkwell.

I wanted to sympathize, I

reallydid—ithadtoberoughto go from some cushy deskjobtofootpatrollingaschoolfull of teenagers—but withBellanax’s presence pressingsohardonmeatthemoment,sympathy was in shortsupply.The swordwanted tobeseen—andused.

“I’m sorry,” I said, analien coolness creeping intomyvoice.“It’sbeentoughall

over.”“You have no idea,”

Bollinger snapped. Her teethwere startlingly white in themoonlight, the incisorsuneven points. She wore hermouse-brown hair in aponytail at the nape of herneck.

I tookadeepbreath, let itout,thendrewanother.“MayIgotomysession?”Nowmy

voicehadanoteofdaring init—as in “youdon’t dare tellmeno.”Ididn’tmeanforittocome out that way, but itcouldn’t be helped. WhenBellanax decided to maketrouble,allbetswereoff.Thelast time it had acted out,Mom and I were eating in aseafood bar in Inverness,Scotland,andIoverheardthemen at the table next to us

claimingthatiftheLochNessmonsterwasreal ithad tobesome long-lost dinosaur.Bellanaxhadtakenoffenseatthenotion,andtriedtogetmeto correct them—the LochNess was a wyvern not adinosaur. It had taken allmyenergy to resist. The swordwas a numenvessel, housingthe spirit of a long-deadmagickind, and that meant it

had a mind and will of itsown.

Bollinger swallowed, theveins in her neck working.“Yes,”shefinallysaid.“Youmaygo.”

“Thank you.” I movedpastherwithoutanotherwordand without looking back.ThefartherawayIdrewfromher, the spirit or power orwhatever it was that made

Bellanax something morethan a sword, settled backinto a state of dormancy.Which was exactly where Ipreferredit.

The longer I walked,distancing myself from therun-in,themorethewoman’sreactionbotheredme.Icouldunderstand her resentment,but not her hate. She actedlike Iwasanaxmurdereron

death row, one who’dchopped up her family intolittle pieces. It wasn’t fair. Ididn’t—the thought stoppeddead in my mind as Iremembered the attack onLyonshold. We’d kept theislandfromsinking,buttherehad been casualties. One ofthem had even been a friendof mine. Was it really myfault? Was I responsible for

breaking The Will andthereby allowing evildoersthe chance to do their baddeeds?

There was no answer.Even Bellanax, who oftenoffered opinions on suchthings,remainedquiet.

A new kind ofnervousness came over methatnoteven theanticipationof seeingEli could shake.At

least thatwasuntil I actuallyarrived outside his door.Standing before it, my heartgave a hard lurch inside mychestandthenseemedtostopbeating all together for asecond. I didn’t know if Ishouldknockorjustgoonin.Normally,Ididthelatter,butnothingfeltnormalrightnow.

I stood there for severalmoments, thinking it over.

Unconsciously, I touchedmyfingers to the silver band,twistingitaroundandaroundon my wrist as I tried tomuster my courage—knockorenter,knockorenter.

At the sound of a noisecoming down the corridor, Ireached for the door handle,founditunlocked,andpushedmywayinside.

Familiar surroundings

greeted me. Except for thelarger size and bathroom,Eli’s new dorm looked thesame as the old one.Expensive stereo equipmentand other electronics linedone whole wall, most of itbelonging toLanceRathbonewhose dad was a magisenator with all the requisiteincome included. Bandposters and several pieces of

sportsmemorabilia decoratedthe rest of the walls in andaroundthetwodeskunitsandsofa. Iwas happy to see thatLancehadn’tputuphisgirls-in-bikinispostersagain.IhadafeelingIcouldthankSeleneforthatone.

All of this I took in withone quick, forgotten glancebefore my eyes fell on theboy sitting in the chair

farthest from the door. Eli’seyes were fixed on me in apenetrating stare, as if hewasn’tquitesurewhohewasseeing. I stared back, myheartbeatingsomewherenearmythroat.Thehummingbirdsstill filledmy belly, but theyseemed to have doubled insizeandnumber.

Eli looked mostly thesameas I remembered—only

better, because he was hereand he was real. His blackhair, usually longer, was cutmilitary short, and his skinwas tanned to a goldenbronze. The lights wereturned down low, but evenstill I could clearly see theblue of his eyes, pale andstartlingintheircolor.Say something! But my

voice had gotten lost. And I

didn’tknowwhattosay.“Hi”seemed inadequate. I had noidea what Eli was thinking,feeling. All the doubt fromearlier came crashing backdown on me. Here I’dthoughthisinvitetonightwasfor us to rekindle the firstfaintsparkswe’dleftburningweeks ago. But maybeinstead he was just going totellmehe’dmovedon,found

someoneelse.Orevenworse,that he’d decided to believethe curse again, the way hehad when he first learnedaboutitlastyear.

Finally, I mustered mycourage and opened mymouth to speak. But then asmilebrokeacrossEli’sface.The effect was like sunlightbursting through a wall ofstorm clouds, sudden,

undeniableproofofhopeandpossibilitiesandchange.

He stood up, his presenceseeming to fill the wholeroom. I’d forgotten how tallhe was, how physicallyimposing.He’dputonmuscleover the last few weeks, theevidenceclearinthebulging,sinewyshapesvisiblebeneathhis well-worn T-shirt. Hemade me feel small and

vulnerable, but alsocompletely safe andprotected.

“Dusty,”hesaid,hisvoicedeep and husky. The soundsetmypulsetoracing.

Two steps later and hestood before me, peeringdown as he raised his handstomyface,cradlingthesidesof my jaw, the tips of hisfingersslippingintomyhair.

And then his lips closedovermine. Theworld turnedsideways for a moment, butin the next it settled intoplace.Intorightness. Ikissedhimback,wrappingmyhandsaroundhiswaist andholdingon. There was no curse. Noreason to worry. We weremadeforthis.

Nothing could be moreright.

2

AnimusMortem

The smell of him filled my

nose—soap and cologne andsomething earthen like dew-drenched woods at dawn. Ibreathed him in. His handsfell away from my face,coming to rest on the jut ofmy hips. His fingers slidbeneath the hemofmy shirt,his warm skin shootingelectricchillsovermybody.

His lips moved off mineandhekisseda lineovermy

jaw and down my neck.“Dusty,” he breathed, hiswarm breath sending evenmore chills through me.“God,howI’vemissedyou.”

“Me,too,”Isaid.Withmyeyes closed, his kissesbecame the only thing in theworld, allmy senses focusedon the sensation. “For asecond I thought you’dchangedyourmind.”

“What?” Eli pulled back,and I looked up to find himstaring down at me, hismouth slightly open and hiseyebrows drawn together. “Iwill never change my mindabouthowIfeelaboutyou.”Don’t say never, a voice

whispered inmy head. For asecondIwasn’tsureifitwasmy own thought or someoneelse’s.Thesilverbandonmy

wrist was noticeably warmagainstmyskin.

“You’re the girl of mydreams,” Eli said, hisexpression softening. “All ofthem.Everynight.”

Something about the wayhe spoke told me he meantthis quite literally. Worrystarted to creep in. Dreamswere powerful, dangerousthings. My presence in his

could mean anything—goodorbad.

ButthenElibenthisheadtoward me, and the doubtvanished as his lips touchedmineoncemore.

Neither of us noticed thedooropening.Wedidn’thearthe footsteps until it was toolate.

“Unless you want amonth’sworth of detention,”

a familiar voice said frombehind us, “I suggest youdesistrightthismoment.”

I froze inEli’s arms evenas his body stiffened. Thenwe both wrenched apart andspun toward the intruders.Therewerefourinall,threeIrecognized and one stranger.The speaker was PrincipalHendershaw, a short, plumpwoman with Coke-bottle

glasses and a pricklytemperament. Next to herstoodfrail,bonyLadyElaine,chief advisor to the MagiSenate. Dwarfing them bothwas Sheriff Brackenberry,who barked a laugh at ourdiscomfort.

“What are you doinghere?” Eli said with asurprisingamountofhostilityinhisvoiceconsideringwe’d

beencaughtmakingoutinhisdorm room. After hours. Bytheprincipal.Not tomentionthe head of the localmagickindpoliceforce.

“Wearehereforthesamereason anyone would callupon dream-seers,” said thefourth member of the party.Thestrangersteppedforward,bringing his face into fullview.Hewasatall,thinman

of indeterminate age. Blondhair so pale it looked whitehung in untidywaves tuckedbehind his ears. Ormaybe itwaswhite,atruereflectionofhis actual age, with hissmooth-skinned face thedeception. He carried a darkgreen folder tucked beneathhisarm,whichhenowpulledout and flipped open. “Forhelp with averting a crisis.”

Hedropped the folderon thetablenexttoEli.

A tremor went throughme.Another crisis?Already?Ididn’twant tohear it.All Iwanted was for these peopletoleavesowecouldgetbackto thekissingandmakingupforlosttime.

Eli put his hands on hiships, but the irreverencewasabsent in his tone. “What

crisisandwhoareyou?”“This is Detective

Valentine,” SheriffBrackenberry said. “Of theD.I.M.S.: TheDepartment ofIntelligence for MagickindSecrecy.”

An involuntary smilecrested my lips. “Dims?” Isaid. “Like dim-witted? Wasthat on purpose?” Darn it,Dusty, I inwardly cursed.

Openmouth,insertfoot.But to my surprise,

Detective Valentineacknowledged the remarkwithawrysmile.“You’renotthe first to make thatconnection, I’m afraid.” Hisgaze shifted from me to Eli.“Are we free to speakprivately? Where is yourroommate?”

“In there.” Eli motioned

toward the doorway into thebedroom sectionof the suite.“He should have hisheadphones on with themusicturneduploud.”

This news made my skinwarm. Eli had been lookingforward to our reunionenough to make sure Lancegave us some privacy. Ugh,these people. Go awayalready.

“Would you mind takingcare of the roommate,Sheriff?”Valentinesaid.

“Now wait a second—”Elibegan.

Valentinecuthimoffwitha raisedhand.“He’llbe fine.Just a sleeping spell.Everything we say from thismomentforwardisclassified.Isthatunderstood?”

I gulped, sensing the

man’s seriousness. TheD.I.M.S. might be a dumbacronym,butthatdidn’tmeantheir duty wasn’t important.The agency’s title made itsound like a combination oftheFBIandtheCIA.

EliandIbothnodded,notthat Valentine had beenwaitingforourconsent.He’dalreadypulledouttwopiecesofthickpaperfromthefolder

and set them side-by-side onthe table. Words in shinyblack ink filled it frommargintomargin.

Looking up, Valentinesaid, “Thank you forescorting us, Dr.Hendershaw, but if youwouldn’t mind steppingout…”

Looking like she’d justswallowed something large

and sour, Hendershawharrumphed. “Very well. I’llwaitinthehall.”

“That won’t benecessary,”saidLadyElaine.“I will discuss the newsituation with Eli and Dustywhenwe’refinished.”New situation? Dread

began to do a slow marchinsidemyhead.

Hendershawmadeas if to

argue, but then she flashed aquick, acidic smile my wayand disappeared through thedoor.

“What new situation?” Isaid.

“LadyElaine,ifyoucouldplease seal the room,” saidValentine.

Lady Elaine locked thedoor. Then she held out herhand,thearmattachedtoita

thinspindlythinglikethelegof a fawn. She began tomutter an incantation, and atingleofmagicfilledtheair.Ididn’t know the name of thespell, but I’d seen it usedonce before. It wouldsoundproof the room,preventing anyone outsidefromlisteningin.

“Now, Dusty, Eli,” saidValentine. “You two will

please sign one of thesenondisclosureagreements.”

He said it likewe had anoption of declining, but Iknewbetter. I ranmy tongueovermy teethwhilewarningbellssoundedinsidemyhead.If he were an ordinarygovernment official, of thehuman variety, I would’veconsidered a nondisclosureagreementsomethingnormal,

albeit serious. But this wasthe magickind governmentand that meant the potentialforweirdandinexplicable.

“What exactly are wesigning?”Ipaused,eyeingthepaper. “And how?” I wasn’tabouttoofferupanyblood.

“You’ll sign with this.”Detective Valentine held outhishandandasleekgoldpenwith a razor sharp tip

appearedacrosshispalm.I accepted the pen, but

only reluctantly. “What willhappenwhenwesign?”

“Nothing too serious,”Valentinesaid,hisexpressioninnocuous. “Your signaturewill activate a binding spell,which will prevent you fromdiscussing thematter athandwithanyonewhohasnotalsosignedthenondisclosure.”

“Whatifwetryanyway?”“Your tongue will seal

itself to the roof of yourmouthuntil you changeyourmind.”

Beside me, Eli made asarcastic sound that could’vebeen mistaken for a laugh.“That sounds like fun.” Hesteppedclosertome,hisarmpressing against mine. Heatradiatedbetweenourbodies.

“Go on and sign it,Destiny,” Lady Elaine said,andIwincedattheuseofmyrealname.Nope,therewasn’tany getting out of this. Realfirst name meant business. Imight not believe in thedream-seer curse, but Idefinitelybelievedinthewe-are-now-pawns-of-the-governmentaspectofthejob.

Sighing,Isetthetipofthe

pentothepaperandscribbledmy name on the line at thebottom of the page: DestinyEverhart. The letters glowedrubyredforasecond,andtheprickleofmagicspreaddownmy fingertips,overmyhand,andupmyarm.Theglowonmy name disappeared amomentlater,leavingnothingbehindbutblackink.

Eli did the same with his

pieceofpaperandhandedthepen back to Valentine. Itdematerializedasquicklyandsoundlessly as it hadappeared.Istaredattheman,wondering what kind ofmagickind he was. I didn’tsee a wand or other magicalinstrument,andtherewerenotelltale points on his ears toindicate fairykind or someothernaturekind.Notthatthe

lack was proof one way oranother. All the kindssometimes used glamour tohidetheirtrueappearances.

“I apologize for the latehour and all the protocol,”Valentine said, shifting hisgaze between Eli and me.“But the situation couldn’twait any longer and the veilof secrecy is absolutelynecessary.”Heexhaled,andI

couldn’t tell if the gesturewas genuine or theatrical.Like his age, everythingabout him seemed mutable.“We need your help inrecoveringalostartifact.”

“Lost, as in stolen?” Elisaid.

“I’m afraid so,” repliedValentine. “This is not thekind of object capable ofvanishing on its own,

although that would’ve beenapreferablescenariobyfar.”

“Um, does that happenoften?”Isaid.

“More than you wouldguess.” Valentine pointed atEliand thenme.“Ineedyoutwotofocusyourdream-seerskills on finding both theobjectandwhotookit.”

“Sounds simple enough.”Eli folded his arms over his

chest, muscles flexing inways that made me want toforget everything else goingon. If I wasn’t careful, Iwould findmyself caught upin a random moment ofdazedness again, as surely asif Eli were part siren insteadoffullyhumanboy.But thenmy eye caught sight of theleatherbandonhiswrist,andI remembered that wasn’t

precisely true, not anymore.Yes, Eli was human but hewas still magical. He was aConductor, able to channelthe magic contained in thewand hidden beneath theglamoured bracelet. Not thathewashidinghiswandlikeIhid Bellanax. Most peopleglamouredtheirwands.Madeforeasycarryingandaccess.

“I’m afraid it’s anything

but simple,” said LadyElaine. “The object inquestionis—”

“Dangerous?” Eli offered,cockinganeyebrow.

“They wouldn’t need usfor mostly harmless,” Imuttered.

“Very dangerous.”Valentineranhis thumboverthe top of his lip. “Anddeadly.” He turned his

attentiontothefolder,pullingout a blank piece ofphotograph paper this time.At least it looked blank atfirst, but as he set it on thetable, black inky tendrilsbegantoappear,writhinglikesmokeacross the shiny, slicksurface. A moment later, theink resolved into a full colorphotograph of a table with asingleobjectrestingatopit.

Valentine reached towardthephotoandthenthroughit.His hand slipped into thepaper, fingers and palmdisappearing as if it wereactually a bowl. He made acupping gesture, and amoment later he pulled hishandback,carryingtheobjectwithhim.Asit leftthephotothe two-dimensional objectbecamethree.

I stared at it, my mouthsuddenlydryas ifmytongueweremadeofcotton.

It was a heart—a realheart, like the kind beatinginsidemychest.Onlyinsteadof red and pink and meaty,this one was charred blackandlookedashardasstone.

“This is the AnimusMortem, the Death’s Heart.Or,as it is sometimescalled,

the Soul-Stealer.” Valentineheldthedead,decayingthingaloft.“Whatyou’relookingatis just a photograph, ofcourse, but the real thing isthe most powerful object ofblackmagiceverrecordedbymagickind.”Death’s Heart. Soul-

Stealer. I didn’t like thesoundofit.Orthelook.

Awaryexpressioncolored

Eli’sface.“Isitarealheart?”“According to legend,

yes,”saidValentine.“Butnoone now alive can say forsure. Here, hold it in yourhand, study it so you mayrecognize its symbolicpresenceinyourdreams.”Heheld the heart out to Eli. Elihesitated only a second thentook it. He turned the thingover, holding it upside down

andsidewaysasheexaminedeveryinch.

Swallowing my dread, Iasked,“Whatdoesitdo?”

“It makes corporalanimationpossible.”

IfrownedatValentine,Elidoing the same beside me.Both of the words registeredin my mind; animation wastheparticular effect ofmagicandelectromagnetic fieldson

inanimate objects. Givenenough exposure, it broughtthem to life, like Frank andIgor. And I knew corporalmeantbodyorphysical.ButIwasn’t sure what the two ofthemtogethermeant.

Eli held the heart outtoward Valentine. “Are yousaying this thing raises thedead?Likeazombie-maker?”

Iwould’ve laughed at the

idea, butValentinemotionedfor Eli to hand the heart tome. I took it, biting mytongue in an attempt to stillthe squeamish sensationwriggling through mystomach. The thing wassurprisingly heavy, tuggingmy hand toward the ground.Thehardexteriorfeltlikewetbone, cold and slippery. Atonce Iwanted to letgoof it,

but I steeled my courage. IfEliwasbraveenoughtoholdit,thenIneededtobe,too.

“I suppose zombie-makeris an apt name,” Valentinesaid. “But it’s a little morenefariousthanordinaryhorrormovieswouldmakeitseem.”

I glanced at Valentine,relieved for an excuse not tolook at the gruesome thingclutchedinmyfingers.“Have

youseenanyofthosemovieslately?”

“I enjoy themimmensely.” ValentinereachedfortheDeath’sHeart,andIhandeditover,gratefultobe ridof it. “But theystilldonot reflect the evil of thisobject. It’s known as theSoul-Stealer because that isprecisely what it does. Inordertoreturnthedeadtolife

—asemblanceof life, that is—it drains the soul, theanima of someone stillliving.”

Stillliving.Asinnotdeadyet.Atonce,animagefromamovie I’d watched as a kidrose to my mind. It was anold movie, a childhoodfavoriteofmydad’swhereallthefantasticalcharacterswereplayed by puppets. In this

particular scene, one of theevil characters drained the“living essence” of anotherinnocent character, a processthat aged the puppet andturned it into a mindlessdrone—like a zombie. Thescene had terrified me as achild.

Ishooktheimageoff.“Soyou think it was stolen forthat purpose? To bring

someone back to life bykillingsomeoneelse?”

“Most likely.” Valentinereturned the Death’s Heartphototothepaper.Asbeforehis fingers disappeared intotheshinysurface, leaving theheart behind when theyreemerged. The ink swirledfor a moment, thendisappearedagain.

“Most?” Eli said, stuffing

hishandsintohispockets.“It’s always possible the

thief will attempt to sell it,”said Sheriff Brackenberry.His low grumble of a voicemade me jump. I’d almostforgottenhewashere,whichwas saying something,considering the man was thesizeofagrizzlybear.

“Yes, that’s possible,”Valentine said, “but for now

we must assume the thiefintends touse it.Weneed torecoveritbeforehedoes.”

“Right,”Elisaid,crackinghis knuckles. “But when didit go missing? From where?Andhow?”

Brackenberry rolled hiseyes.“Oh,lord,herewego.”

Valentine frowned at Eli,his expression puzzled. “Idon’t see how that

informationisrelevant.”“That’s because it’s not.

But these two like to fancythemselves as amateurdetectives.” Brackenberrypointed his thumb at Eli andme. “Call themselves theDream Team, from what Ihear.”

I winced. The name didsound a little sillywhen saidlike that. Beside me, Eli’s

expression remained stoic.Silly or not, we were bothserious about it, Eliespecially. His biggestambitionwastojointheFBI.

“Huh.” Valentine exhaledloudly through his nose, thesound not quite a laugh butnot ahuff either. “Well, all Ican tell you is that it wentmissingfromasecretvaultinLyonshold. And whoever

stoleiteitherworksinahighposition in the magickindgovernment or has close tieswithsomeonewhodoes.”

“Whydoyou think that?”EliandIaskedinunison.Theshared moment made mybreath catch, a subtleaffirmationofourrightness.

“WellasIsaid,itwasinasecret vault. And Death’sHearts like this one aren’t

even supposed to existanymore.” Valentinegrimaced.“Theywerebannedby the Black Magic PurgeAct of 1349 and should’vebeen destroyed centuriesago.”

“Typical.” I folded myarms over my chest. I knewfirsthand that the Purge Actwasn’t quite as effective asthe history books liked to

claim.“Hence theneedfor those

nondisclosure agreements.”Valentine motioned towardthetable.

“Okay,” Eli said, shiftinghis weight from one foot tothe other. “Is there anythingelse we need to know? Isthere any sign of when theheart isbeingused?There’rea lotofways todetectmagic

use,right?”“Normally, yes, but since

theDeath’sHearthasn’tbeenused in so long we have noidea what those signs mightbe,” Valentine said, onceagainrubbinghisthumboverthetopofhislip.“Asidefromtheobviousones,ofcourse.”

“Obvious?”Iasked.“Missing persons,” Lady

Elaine answered. A grievous

expression twisted her age-lined face. Like Valentine, Ihadno ideahowoldshewasotherthanvery.Ididn’tevenknow what kind she was,witchkind or naturekind ordarkkind.I’dneverthoughttoask. What mattered was thatshewasanOracle,theabilityto see the future an inborntalent.Ididn’tlikethefearinher eyes, and I wondered

what that talent might’veshownherrecently.

“Yes, that’s right,” saidValentine. “Fuel for themachine,asitwere.”

It was a coarse way ofputtingit,andonceagaintheimage of that stupid puppethaving its vital essencedrainedroseupinmymind.Ishivered. “Has anyone gonemissingyet?”

“No one of importance,”saidBrackenberry.

My eyes widened. “Whatisthatsupposedtomean?”

“It means,” Lady Elainesaid,“thatwe’vealreadytoldyou enough to be getting onwith. You don’t need toconcernyourselfwithmissingpersons.Focusthedreamsonfinding the Death’s Heart.That is the most important

thing.”Irecognizedthefinalityin

hertoneandhadtofightbacktheurgetoargue.IglancedatEli, expecting him to pressfor more, but to my surprisehe seemed content. I decidedto take comfort in that,guessinghealreadyhadsomescheme in mind to get theinformationweneeded.

Butthatcomfortwasshort

lived as a new thoughtoccurred to me, one thatmade me feel as if I werehaving my living essencedrained right this verysecond. “If the thief didn’tsteal it for the money, thenwhy?” I bit my lower lip. “Imean, who’s died recentlythat someone would bewillingtogotothislengthtobringthemback?”

As soon as I said it, Iknew it was a foolishquestion. I’d never lost acloselovedone,butitwasn’thard to imagine thepowerofthat grief and what it mightdriveapersontodo.

And there certainly hadbeen some significant deathsof late—people who’d heldpositions of power and whono doubt left behind

supporters.TherewasConsulVanholt, head of themagickind government, whohad died in the attack onLyonshold. And SenatorTitus Kirkwood, of course,the man behind the attack.The magickind police hadcaught him trying to flee thesinking island, but before hecould go to trial, someonehad murdered him in his

prisoncell.“Anyone with the

knowledge of the heart’sexistence could be guilty,”Valentinesaid.

I shiftedmygaze toLadyElaine, my fear growing bythe second. “It’s not…” Iswallowed. “Because ofMarrow,isit?”Marrow. Even saying his

namewashardthesedays,let

alone facing the reality thathewasstillout there. Ioftencalled him the Hitler-wannabe,butthatwasputtingit too lightly. Marrow wasbehindalltherecentdisastersand upheaval amidmagickind. It all came backto him. He had broken TheWill spell. Titus Kirkwoodhadbeenoneofhisfollowers.Known as the Red Warlock,

Marrow was a man whocouldbekilledbutwhocouldnot stay dead, and thatmadehimaninfinitethreat,foreverlurking. Thanks to hisfamiliar bond with a blackphoenix,wheneverMarrow’smortal body died, he wouldsimply be rebornwith a newone—samesoul,sameanima,newpackaging.

ButliketheDeath’sHeart,

nooneknewexactlyhowtherebirth worked, whether hewould return as a baby or agrown man with a differentface,orasafreshcopyofthemanhe’dbeenbefore.

Lady Elaine took severalseconds before answering.“Wedon’tbelieveso.Atleastnot if you’re referring to hisresurrection. He does notneed the Death’s Heart for

that. The black phoenix isenough.”

“Then what then?” Elisaid, no doubt catching thehitchinhervoiceaseasilyasIhad.“AreyousayingthisisstillaboutMarrow?”

“We don’t know,” LadyElaine said, her gaze steely.“But it’s possible. If he hasreturned already, and if hehas learned of the Death’s

Heart’s existence, it is mostcertainly an object he wouldwant in his possession. Wemight not know much abouthowtheDeath’sHeartworks,butwedoknow someof theways it has been used in thepast. In ancient times therewere groups of magickindwho set themselves up asgods, requiring the primitiveordinaries to make human

sacrifices to them. Using theDeath’s Heart, theytransferredtheanimaofthosesacrifices to themselves,ensuringverylonglives.”

My heart gave a stutter.Eli looked pale beneath hissummer-bronze tan. Marrowwoulddefinitelybeonetosethimselfupasagod.Only,asLady Elaine had said, healready had the immortality

thinginthebag.“But there are also

accounts of magickind usingthe Death’s Heart to createand sustain armies of theliving dead,” Lady Elainecontinued.“Themostfamouswas Genghis Khan. You canimagine how easy andefficient it was to use thelives of his victims toresurrecthissoldiers.”

“That sounds likeMarrow,”Isaid,breathless. Ireachedforthesilverbandonmy wrist and began to twistit. If Marrow was back andstealing objects, how longbeforehecameafterme?Hewould want Bellanax back.There was no question ofthat.

LadyElaine’sgazeshiftedtowardmywrist,andIstilled

my hand, afraid of whatconclusions she might draw.Asecondlater,shepulledhergaze away—the pullingobvious, effortful. Eli shiftedcloser toward me. I leanedintohim,drawingcomfort.

“I believe that’s enough,”Valentine said. “As of rightnow, we have no proof thatMarrow is involved.And if Iunderstand how the dream-

seer powers work, I think itbest that you channel thedreams on the Death’s Heartsoasnottobendthenarrativeto a possible suspect insteadofthecorrectone.”

Eli nodded. “Makessense.”

“Yes, and with any luckyou’llfindthepersonquicklyand this will all be over.”LadyElainesmiled.Iknewit

wasmeant tocomfortus,butit was fragile around theedges,likeoldpaper.She’s afraid. The Oracle

was afraid. What horriblevision had she seen? Whatdidsheknowthatshewasn’ttellingus?

Without warning,Bellanax flared into life. Fora second the urge todisengagetheglamourwasso

great thatstarburstsfilledmyvision from the effort ofresistingit.Itwistedthebandoverandoveragain.

LadyElainewasafraid.And it seemed Bellanax

thoughtIshouldbe,too.

3

DeathBecomesYou

A few minutes later,

Valentine gathered up thepapers from the table andtucked them back into thefolder. “Thank you again foryourtime,andI’llbelookingforward to your dreamreports.Oh—”Hepausedandflashedadiplomaticsmilemyway. “It goeswithout sayingthatyourdreamjournalsnowfall under the nondisclosureagreementsuntilsuchtimeas

the Death’s Heart isrecovered.”

And with that, he headedout the door. SheriffBrackenberry followed afterhim. I took a deep breath,relieved to be almost alonewith Eli again. Now if LadyElaine would just leave.Only, so far she hadn’tmoved so much as a pinkiefinger.BeforeIcouldaskher

what the holdup was, Dr.Hendershaw strolled into theroom.Newsituation.Someone else came in

with her, the red and blackuniform sending a joltthroughme.Butitwasn’tjustany Will Guard. It was thesamewomanwho’daccostedmeonthewayoverhere.

Bollinger scanned the

room, distaste clear in herexpression. She might’vebeen pretty if she weren’t inthe habit of screwing up herfeaturesthatway.

“What’sthis?”Elisaid.A broad smile, oozing

with smugness stretched likewarm taffy across Dr.Hendershaw’s face. “This ispartofachangetheschoolismaking to our dream-seer

policy. From this momentforward,youtwowillonlybepermitted to dream-feedtogether under thesupervision of a designatedchaperone.”

A full thirty secondspassedbeforethemeaningofher words finally struck me.When they did, it was like athunderclap, the kind loudenough to shake walls and

burstwindows.Eli had gone utterly still,

allexceptforamuscletickingin his jaw. He inhaled,nostrils flaring. “That’s notnecessary.”

Dr. Hendershaw laughed,the sound close to a cackle.“Very funny, Mr. Booker.ConsideringwhatIwalkedinonearlier.”

Eli’s hands clenched into

fists.I turned toward Lady

Elaine. “Please, don’t dothis.” I spoke low, my voicepleading. Because I knew, Iknew, that thiswas about thecurse.Again.

To her credit, a painedlookflittedacrossherface.

Before she could answer,Hendershaw cut in. “This isnotopenfornegotiation,Miss

Everhart.”Anger heated my skin.

“Thisisbull—”Lady Elaine snapped her

fingers, and something thatfelt like a hot air balloonfilled my mouth. The magictingled over my tongue.Speakingbecameimpossible.

“Before you saysomething you’ll regret,”Lady Elaine said, quietly.

Thensheletoutasmallsigh.“I know this is hard for you,butthereisnochangingit.Aslongasyouareaminorandastudentatthisschoolyouwillabide by whatever rules theschoolchoosestoimpose.Doyouunderstand?”

With tears stinging myeyes, I slowly nodded. Thepressure eased a momentlater, and I drew a deep

breath. It did nothing to easethe ache inmy chest though,as if theoxygen inmy lungshad turned to lead. I sensedElishiftinghisweightbesideme, but I couldn’t risklooking at him. Not unless Iwantedtototallyloseit.

“Now, as I was saying,”Dr.Hendershawwenton,andIdidn’tlookathereither,formuchthesamereason.“Miss

Bollinger will be yourprimary chaperone. She willescortDusty to and fromherdorm to Eli’s and remainpresent during the entiredurationofthedreamsession.Noexceptions.”

The scowl on my facewent so deep I thought myskin might split. I made themistake of looking atBollinger.Her smugnesswas

tangible, a stick I wanted tograb and smack her with.Bellanax stirred, the feel likea growl insidemy head. Theskin on my wrist burned. Iclosed my eyes, pressingagainstit,tryingtoremembertheriskinvolvedinrevealingthesword.Marrowwasback.He would be looking for it.The reminder helped, butonlyalittle.

I opened my eyes to seeeveryonestaringatme.Angerpoundingthroughme,Istaredback.Iwastoomadevenforsarcasm. I considered tellingLadyElaine aboutmy run-inwithBollinger, but I knew itwaspointless. Ihadnoproofthat she hated me, just afeeling. And I doubted thatDr. Hendershaw would beoverly concerned. My

feelingsmeantnothingtoher.Toanyofthem.

Elilookedtenseenoughtosnap. But I wasn’t sure if itwas from anger. There wassome of that, yes, butsomething else, too. Regret?Relief?Butno.Thatwasjustmy imagination, self-doubtfueled by this latest attackagainstourhappiness.

Dr. Hendershaw brought

herhands together ina silentclap. “All right, we shallleave you to your newchaperone. And best of luckwith whatever you’researchingfor.”

She sounded so pleasantthat an outsider might’vemistakenherfornice.Assheturned toward the door all Icould do was glare at thebackofherhead.

Lady Elaine followed herout,shuttingthedoor.

Severalsecondsofpainfulsilencepassed,thethreeofusleft eyeing one another likeganglandnegotiators.

Unsurprisingly, Bollingerspoke first. “All right, youtwo.Get onwith it. I’ve gotpatrolling to do once we’refinishedhere.”

Now Eli looked fit to be

tied. His jaw worked backand forth, making musclesleap and dance on his faceandneck.Heputhishandsonhiship.“You’reinsaneifyouthink I’mgoing tobeable tofall asleep right now.” Withyou here. The unspokenwordshungintheair.

Bollinger shrugged. “Nomatter. I’ve been authorizedtouse sleeping spells tohelp

keep things on track. If youwouldassumetheposition…”

I sensed Eli’s silentdebate, but what choice didwe have? Sure, we couldrefuse, but she was a WillGuard. She could force uswithmagic.Orwecouldfightback, but only at the risk ofbeing expelled or groundedfor the rest of our teenageyears.

Eliseemedtocometothesame conclusion.He steppedovertothesofaandlaydown,his head propped on onearmrest and his feet hangingover the other. “Get on withit,please,”hesaid.

Bollinger sniffed at therequest,butshecameforwardjust the same, holding herwand aloft. “Hupno-drasi.”Eli’s eyes caught mine for a

second, his gaze steady, butthen the spell took hold, andhis eyes slid closed. Amomentlaterhewasasleep.

Bollinger smirked, nodoubt thrilled that she’dgotten to use the restrictedspell.She turnedhergazeonme. “Glare all you like, littlegirl. Won’t change a thing.”Sheretreatedtotheothersideof the room and sat down in

one of the desk chairs. “NotthatIunderstandtheneedforme to be babysitting at all.It’s absurd, this dream-seercurse. Especially consideringthetwoofyou.”

“What do you mean?” Isaid, unable to keep myselffromrespondingeventhoughIsensedatrap.

An overly innocentexpression appeared on her

face. “Oh, I just mean thevast differences between youtwo. Him being such ahandsome boy and you …well…beingsoplain.”

I inhaled, her wordscutting deeper than I wouldeveradmit.Forcibly,IturnedawayfromherandheadedtoEli—my only comfort in allofthis.

Hewasalreadydreaming.

His eyes moved back andforth beneath his eyelids.Seeinghiminhisdreamstate,eagerness to join him cameover me. We might not bealone in his dorm anymore,but we would be in thedream. Trying to ignore thegaze I felt on my back, Iclimbed on top of Eli. Ipositioned my feet on eitherside of his rib cage and

slowly lowered my weightonto his chest. The positionwas weird—and intimate—butalsothemosteffectivefordream-feeding.

The moment I was inplace,aburning,achingwantswelled up inside me, myNightmare powers ravenousfor the fictus, the magicalstuff of Eli’s dreams. I haddream-fed on others these

pastweeks,theneedtorefuelmy magic unavoidable, butthose dream subjects werestrangers, and their dreamswere dull, boring things—blackandwhiteandtasteless.NothingatalllikeEli’s.

His were powerful—andohsosweet.

I touched my handsagainst his forehead and feltmy consciousness shuck off

the confines of my physicalbody, trading it for anexistenceinsideEli’sdreams.Colorsasbrightandpulsatingas a super nova filled myvision. The colors were achaotic blur for a fewseconds, until finallytransforming into the dreamworld.

I found myself lying onmy back with nothing but

blackness overhead. Itmight’ve been the sky or acave or nothing at all. If itweren’tforthepressofahardsurface beneath my back, Iwould’ve thought I wasdriftinginspace.

“Hey, you.” Eli’s voiceseemed to float out of thedarkness.“IsthattherealyouandnottheimaginedoneI’vebeenstuckwiththeselastfew

weeks?”I shifted to my side and

sawthatEliwaslyingbesideme, our bodies almosttouching. Almost, but notquite.Wecouldn’t touch,notin a dream. If we tried Iwould be ejected out of thedream.Painfully.

Ismiled.“Realme.”He smiled back. “I can

tell.Therealyouiswaymore

beautiful than my dreamone.”

I smiled at thecompliment, but Bollinger’sinsultcamebacktome.“Areyou sure about that?Cause Icandoa lotbetter thanthis.”Iclosedmyeyesforasecond,concentrating.WhenIopenedthem again, I’d transformedmy appearance, trading myred fuzzy hair for sleek

platinum. “Do you like thisbetter?”

“No,”Eli said. “Not evenfor a second.” He raised hishand and reached towardmyface.

Ijerkedback.Elifroze.“Damn.Iforgot.

Notouching.”Grimacing, I exhaled.

“Stupiddream.”“Stupid chaperone.” He

satup.The reminder brought

tears stinging to my eyesagain. It was so unfair, soridiculous.

“Hey,” Eli said, staringdownatme.“It’snottheendoftheworld.We’llfindwaysaround it. Who’s better thanusatsneakingaround?”

“Nobody.”“Itmightevenbefun.”

I laughed and sat up, too,taking my first real look atthe dream world, which hadslowly come into focus. Agasp lodged in my throatwhenIsawwewere lying ina boat on a dark, fathomlessriver. Themoment I realizedit, I became aware of thesubtle rock and sway of thewater’s movement beneathus.

“Well, this isweird,” saidEli.

I nodded, my gaze stillprocessing the strange sight.This wasn’t a normal ship,but a barge, like the kindEgyptian pharaohs andprincesses used to cruisearound the Nile on. It waslow-sided,therailingnomorethanalip,butlarge,easilythewidth of a tennis court and

twiceagainaslong.Wewerelyingneartherearoftheboat,andaheadofuswasa raisedplatform with a canopiedroof. The white gauzycurtains hid whatever wasinside.Beyondtheplatform,Icouldjustmakeoutalittleoftheboat’sprow,risingupandin front of the ship like theneckofadragon.

“Weird is right,” I said,

gettingtomyfeet.Theboat’smovement grew even morepronounced as I stood, and Irealizedthatweweremovingforward, following someunknown current. I lookedout over the boat’s edge andspotted what looked like adistant shoreline, although itwas hard to tell in the dimlight.Iglancedup,onceagainseeingnothingbutanendless

black overhead—nomoon orstars, nothing to light theway. Nevertheless there waslight coming fromsomewhere. It filled thecavernous space around theship just enough for me tomake out shapes, but it hadno source, and it made nosense. We shouldn’t be abletoseeanything.Andyetas Istrained my eyes toward the

shore, I could almost makeout people standing there,observing our slow, silentpassage.

I turned my gaze to thefront, wondering where theboat was headed, but therewas nothing but an endlessblack horizon. A sense ofabsolute isolation, somethingakin to claustrophobia, cameoverme,icyfingersclutching

atmyheart.“Wherearewe?”Elisaid.

Thesoundofhisvoicejoltedme from the momentaryterror,andIrolledmyeyesatmyself. I was a Nightmareand this was a dream. Iwasn’t trappedon this barge.Icouldtradethisdark,water-filled landscapefora fieldofbabyunicornsandkittensifIwished.

“I have no idea.” Imotionedtowardtheplatformahead. “Have you ever beenonaboatlikethis?”

Eli pushed himself into astandingposition.“Nope.I’venever even seen a boat likethis. Outside of the movies,anyway.”

I inhaled, a thrill ofexcitementgoingthroughme.Ifhe’dneverseenthisbefore,

then that meant we were onthe track of something. Ididn’t know if it was relatedto the Death’s Heart, but ithardly mattered. I’d missedthethrillofdream-seeing.

“Let’s look around,” Elisaid, his gaze focused on theplatform.

As we walked forward, Ilet my eyes wander to myleft, out over the water. The

glass-smooth surfaceglistened from that unseenlight. Farther away, thebodies now moved on theshoreline, faint and ghostlyandhumanoid.

“Wait,” I said as a newand far closer movementcaughtmyeye.Istoppedandturned toward the boat’sedge. “There’s something inthe water.” My throat

tightened.Anything could bein there. At once I picturedgrayish-white corpsesfloating beneath the surface.“You’ve seen too manymovies,Dusty,” Iwhispered,forcing air back into mylungs.

“What did you say?” Eliasked from behind me. Ishook him off andapproached the low railing.

There was indeed somethingin the water. Lots ofsomethings. But not humancorpses. They looked likesharks or eels. Long, thinbodies slid beneath thewater’s surface, moving upand down, sideways, andturningincircles.

“Some kind of fish,” Elisaid, joiningmeat theboat’sside.“That’snormalenough.”

“Ifyousayso,butI’mnotgoing for a swim anytimesoon.”

“Probablywise.”We both turned and

resumed our slow marchtoward the platform.Although there was nobreeze, the curtains billowedoutward.Seeingit,feelingthewrongness of it, I wanted toturn back, or just leave the

dream all together. I didn’twant to know what washiddenbehindthatcurtain.

“Eli,wait.”He stopped and looked

over his shoulder, frowning.“Whatisit?”

“Idon’twant toget takenbysurprise.”Thismightbeadream,butwebothknewthatdidn’t make it safe. Therewere things in dreams that

could hurt you, and not justpsychologically.

Eli nodded, a single upand down of his chin, hisexpressionuncertain.

I closed my eyes andreached out with myNightmare-keen senses. Atonce I felt the dream as aphysicalthingaroundme,themagic of it like a tightlywoven tapestry. But I was a

master weaver, capable ofpulling it apart andputting itback together again as Ichose. With the feel of thedream firmly fixed in mymind,Iopenedmyeyesagainand focused on the curtain,willingit todisappear, toun-be.

For a second the curtainflickered, like a picturecoming in and out of focus,

butthenIfeltthedreampushback.Itsolidified,goingfroma tapestry to somethingdenser, less easy to breakapart, like granite. Frowning,I pressed harder, but thedream’s resistance onlystrengthened in response. Itdid not want to be vanishedaway.

“Can’tyoumanipulateit?”Elisaid.

I bit my lip. “I’m trying,butitwon’tgo.”

He ran a hand over hishead, combing his fingersthroughhairthatwasn’tthereanymore with his newmilitary-short haircut.“Maybe you’re out ofpractice.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It waspossible. I rarely had reasonto manipulate the dreams of

anybody else—not unlessthey were dreamingsomething gross that I didn’twant to see. But I’d beenfortunateallsummer,mostofthe dreams I visited werepretty tame as dreams go.Onlyoneof themhadbeenashowing-up-naked-to-schooldream, but I’d just kept myeyesaverted.

Givingitupasabadjob,I

disengagedmymagicand letthe dream settle back intoplace. It must be somethingimportant to resist themanipulation so strongly. Ipictured the Death’s Heart.Maybe this wasn’t anEgyptian pleasure barge atall,butafuneralbarge.

A shiver slid over myarms as if from a phantomwind.Butagaintherewasno

wind.Then how is the bargemoving?For itcertainlywas,thefloor inaconstant,subtleshift beneath our feet. Animageofcorpsesinthewatercametomymindoncemore,only this time they werereanimated. They pushed usalong, their dead, water-swollen fingertips pressingintotheship’shull.

I shook the vision off

before it could fullymaterialize. If I wasn’tcareful, I might end upbending the dream into anightmareonaccident.

“I’llgofirst,”Elisaid,andhe stepped forward withoutwaitingforareply.

Chidingmyselfforbeingacoward, I hurried up besidehim. We would do thistogether, same as everything

else.When we reached the

curtain, Eli grasped the rightpanel while I took the left.Then in unison we pulledthem aside, revealing anarrow room. Same asoutside the boat, a strange,impossible light permeatedthespacebeneaththecanopy.

Just ahead was anotherraised structure, this one

unmistakably a bed, despiteits round shape. Therewas amattress or cushion, andbeneathit,somekindofdarkwood comprised the frame,its side rounded andintricately carved withtriangular spoke-like objectsstickingoutfromit.Apersonlayontopofthemattress,thehead nearest uswith the feetpointed toward the front of

theboat.Itwasanunmovingperson. Perfectly still, as ifasleep—ordead.

My bet was on the latter,ofcourse.Becausethiswasadream, and we were dream-seers, taskedwith stopping agreateviloncemore.Besides,it wasn’t the first time we’dcomeacrossadeadpersoninadream.Theyhadadifferentkind of stillness, deeper and

moresolid,likethedifferencebetween a still, quiet pondandonecoveredwithice.

EliandIexchangedalookand then togetherwesteppedup onto the platform andunder the canopy. Thecurtains whooshed closedbehindus.Theairwascoolerin here, but as before therewasn’tanywind.

Moving closer to the bed,

I raised my hand toward thelantern hanging from thecanopy directly above it,willing it to light.Unlike thecurtains, it obeyed at once, aflame sputtering into life inthe center of the glass globe.Shadows began to danceacrosstheroom.

I blinked once, adjustingto the light, and then Iloweredmygazetotheprone

figure. The shape lookedfemale, but I couldn’t becertain. A sheet covered theface and body. It was somekind of burial shroud, thecloth thick and coarselywoven. I stared at theperson’s head, checking tosee if there was any sign ofbreathing,justincase.AsI’dsaid to Eli before, I didn’twant tobe takenby surprise,

and this scenario seemedready made for a horrormovie gotcha. To my relief,theclothandbodybeneath itremainedstill.

“Shall we pull back thesheet?”Elisaid.

“In a minute.” I scannedthe bed once more. Thepersonbeneath the sheetwasimportant but there wereother details to observe, too.

Even the most literal ofdreams were still symbolic.Sometimes minute aspectscouldholdmeaning.

I ranmy finger alongoneofthetriangularspikesonthebed frame. As soon as Itouched it, the design of thethingcameintomymind.

“It’s a dragon,” I said.“Thisistheneck.”Imotionedto the pointed triangles,

which I now saw wereactuallyspines.

“Huh, you’re right.” Elibent toward the bed frame,takingacloserlook.

I circled around, wantingto see the rest of the dragon.The neck gave way toshoulders with the shortstubby legs reaching towardthetopandbottomofthebed,clawed hands wrapped

around the edges. Theserpentinebodycontinuedon,its scales forming ridges inthe wood. If a bed like thisexisted in the real world, itwould’ve taken the artist along time to craft it. Even intheunevenlightImarveledatthe intricate, lifelike details.The tail wrapped around thefoot of the bedwhere it metup with the dragon’s head.

The creature’s mouth wasopened,swallowingthetipofthetail.

“The dragon is eatingitself,”Isaid.

Frowning, Eli steppednearer to me, observing thesight. “Huh.Now this I haveseen before. My aunt has atattoo like this. It’s called anouroboros.”

“Anor-ro-what-oh?”

He grinned. “She got itafter a motorcycle accidentthat almost killed her. It’s asign of renewal orsomething.”

“Motorcycle accident?Tattoos?That’ssomeaunt.”

“Iknow.You’dlikeher.”I smiled up at him, but

quickly looked down again,transfixed by the tail-eatingdragon. “Renewal,” I said,

my thoughts churning. “Ormaybe rebirth. Like theDeath’sHeart.”

“OrMarrow.”I shivered, gooseflesh

risingonmyarms.“There’s only oneway to

be sure.” Eli moved aroundthebed,nearertotheperson’shead.Heglancedbackatme.“Youready?”

I nodded, my breathing

going shallow. From thisangle, Iwasn’t certain that itwas in fact a woman lyingthere. It might be Marrowinstead.Ididn’tknowifIwasready to see him again, evenifonlyinsideadream.

But it was too late toprotest as Eli grasped theedgeoftheshroudandpulledit down, revealing theperson’s face. All the air in

my lungs evacuated at thesight, horror a compressiveforce against my chest,cuttingoffoxygenandbloodflow.

As I originally thought,the person was female anddefinitelydead.Herskinwasamoltenblendofsallowandgray. It sagged over sunken,hollow cheeks. Two silvercoins, of a currency I didn’t

recognize, were set deepinside her eye sockets. Theeyes themselves werecompletelysunkenin,haplessvictimsofgravityanddecay.

Itwas a gruesomevisage.Even still, the person’s stateof death didn’t shock me. Itwasn’t the source of thescream clawing its way upmy constricted throat. No.The source of my terror

resided in the familiarity ofthe person lying there. Afamiliarity thatcouldonlybedescribedasintimate.

This corpse, this deadthing.

Wasme.

4

Nondisclosure

I left the dream a short time

later, only to discover thatleaving was a mistake, nomatterhowbadlyIwantedtoescape thevisionofmydeadbody lying there. Eli didn’twake up with me, not evenafterIgavehimahardshake.

AtonceIunderstoodwhy.I turned to find Bollingerkickedbackinthedeskchair,hereyeshalf-lidded.“Doyoumind taking off the sleeping

spellnow?”Bollinger jerked upright.

“What?”Sheglancedaround,the look of surprise on herface quickly settling into herusual scowl. “Yes, I mind.Thesessionisover.Let’sgetyoubacktoyourdorm.”

“What?” I put my handsonmyhips,ifonlytostillthetrembling in my limbs. “ButEli and I always discuss

thingsafterward.”Bollinger shook her head.

Several strands of mouse-brown hair had worked theirwayoutof theponytail.“Myinstructions don’t includegiving you time to chatafterward. Let’s go.” Shemotionedtothedoor.

Too shaken and defeatedto argue, I headed for it. Itriedtostealanotherglanceat

Eli as I stepped into thehallway, but Bollinger wasalready swinging the doorclosed. I glared, hating thefinality of that shut door, thecertainty that thiswashow itwas going to be—my timewith Eli always restricted,alwaysdelayed.

I turned around, thoughtsroilinginmyhead.Therewassomuchtoprocess,somuchI

wanted todiscuss.Needed todiscuss.Elihadremindedmejust before I left the dreamthat they were symbolic, notliteral. Hewasn’twrong, butI’d gotten the feeling hewastrying toconvincehimselfofthistruthasmuchasme.

Symbolic,yes,butIdidn’tknow how many ways youcouldinterpretmydeadbodyin a dream.The dragon—the

ouroboros—might havedozensofinterpretations.Butnotme.

To my relief, Bollingerdidn’tloiteroutsidemydormwhenwearrived. In fact, shedidn’t even bother comingdown the hallway. She justshooed me along like anindecisive house cat anddisappearedaroundthecornerthe moment I got the door

open.I stepped in, unsurprised

to find the place dark andquiet. Of course, Selenewould be asleep already.Classesstartedtomorrow,andit was well past midnight.Still, I was disappointed,enoughthatIdebatedwakingher for severalmoments.Butwith the nondisclosureagreement, Ididn’tknow if I

could even talk to her aboutthedream.

Besides, Ineeded towritemy dream journal beforeturningin.OnlyIdesperatelydidn’t want to. The presenceof my dead body was soweird and scary. Evenworsewas the worry of how LadyElaine and the rest mightinterpretit.Theywouldlikelysee it as a sign that Iwas in

mortal peril. I could end upwithatwenty-four-sevenWillGuard chaperone instead ofjustBollinger.Theideamademystomachknot.

Sighing, I sank onto thechair beside my desk. MyeTabsat in itscradle in frontof me. Aside from the runemarks etched around theoutside,whichweredesignedto help ward off the

animation effect, it lookedlike an ordinary electronictablet. I pulled it off thecradleandswitchediton,thedebate still raging in myhead. I was torn betweenwhatIoughttodoandwhatIwanted todo,whatwas rightandwhatwasdesirable.Whydid it always seem like thesetwo things always had to befundamentallyopposed?Why

couldn’t the universe line upproperly so that what Iwanted could also be whatwas right? Like ice creambeing good for you. OrFrench fries. Or sunbathing.What a happy, wonderfulworldthatwouldbe.

Gritting my teeth, Iswitched the eTab on andnavigated to the dreamjournal app. Then without

taking time to fret over it, Ibegan to summarize thedream. When I reached thepartaboutthecorpse,Iwrote:Ididn’trecognizetheperson.Guilt made me feel queasy,but I told myself it was allright, that this was just self-preservation. Heck, it wasjustsimpleprivacy.Itwasmydead body after all.And thatmade it feel likeasecret that

shouldn’t be shared,myownpersonal nondisclosureagreement.

Besides,ItoldmyselfafterI’dsavedthejournalandsentit off, if my being the deadperson was significant, thenthere would surely be othersigns to come along. Often,Eli’s most important dreamswererepetitive.Ifithappensagain,I’lltell

them.Butevenas I thought it, I

knew it was a hollowpromise.

***

Predictably,my dreamswerebadthatnight,andIwokethenext morning feeling as if Ihadn’tsleptatall.Mostofthedreams—when they hadn’tfeaturedimagesofmycorpse

—had been about Eli. Overandoverhetoldmehedidn’twanttoseemeanymore.Justlike that.Cold,heartless, andabsolute. Then he’d turnedaway from me and walkedright into the waiting, openarms of his ex-girlfriend,KatarinaMarcel.

I woke with my heartstuttering in my chest, thehurt of his betrayal refusing

to fade even as I lay thereawake, eyes closed andwishing those false dream-feelings away. Problem was,they felt so real. As if thedream was some kind ofrepressedmemory.Ormaybeafutureone.

I shook my head. OnlyEli’s dreams predict thefuture.Notmine.ExceptevenasIthoughtit,thesilverband

onmy wrist began to warm,as if to remind me of therecurringdreamI’dhadaboutBellanax last year, monthsbefore I’d actually bondedwiththesword.

I raised the band to myface, glaring down at theinanimate object. “You shutup.”

The sound of a snortstartled me. “Huh?” Selene

said from the other bed.“Whatdidyousay?”

I hid my arm under thecovers. “Nothing. Sorry towakeyou.”

Selene waved a hand atme and rolled over, buryingher face in her pillow oncemore.Igotoutofbed,tryingtoignoremyenvythatSelenewasasirenandthereforeabletosleep inanextrahalfhour

because she didn’t need tospend a lot of time on hairand makeup. My onlyconsolation was that I didn’thave to go far to get to thebathroom anymore. Oh, theperksofbeingajunior.

I showered quickly, buttook awhile getting dressed.This was the first day ofschool, after all, and nomatter how many times I’d

donethis,nomatterhowwellIknewallofmyclassmates,Istill had the jitters. I hadn’tseen most of these peoplesince before the attack onLyonshold. I’d spent the lastfewweeksofsophomoreyearin a coma. Most everyoneknewabout the part I playedin stopping the island fromsinking, but as Bollingerproved, I couldn’t be certain

ofawarmwelcome.Thank goodness I would

haveEliwithmeallday.Thatwas one of the best parts ofbeing a dream-seer pair—we’d had matching schoolscheduleslastyear.

Withmy thoughts on Eli,eagerness overtook the jittersand I hurried down to thecafeteria. We wouldn’t haveany privacy for a lot of

kissing there, but at leastwewouldbeabletotalk.Wehadsomuchcatchingup todo. Ididn’t even know what Elihad been up to over thesummer break. Once herealized I didn’t have accessto my phone, he hadn’tbotheredsendinge-mails.

No,whenIfinallygotmyphoneback—andchargedthemonths’-long dead battery—

the only e-mails waiting forme had been from PaulKirkwood, my ex-boyfriend.More than a dozen filledmyin-box, most with subjectslike I’m sorry orExplanations or Where areyou?

I still hadn’t read them.Even thinking about themmade me anxious. Myfeelings for Paul weren’t of

the romantic variety, notanymore, but I wasn’temotionally prepared to dealwithhim.Especiallynotafterhis latest, possiblyduplicitous,actionsattheendoflastyear.He’dbeenoneofMarrow’s supporters whenwe’d first met, and eventhough I believed he’d had achangeofheart,Icouldn’tbesure.Thankgoodnesshewas

in hiding somewhere.Avoidance was always theeasiesttactic.

Thecafeteriadidn’tsoundvery busy as I approached,the noise nominal instead ofthe full-on roar it wouldbecomeathighbreakfast.Butbefore I walked in, I pausedjust outside the doorway toreadthepostedsign:

WELCOMEBACK,

UPPERCLASSMEN!REMEMBER,STARTING

TOMORROWYOUWILLNEEDYOUR

CASTERCARD®INTHECAFETERIA

Ishookmyhead,recallingthelittletidbitaboutthecardsin the welcome back letter.Junior and senior magickindhad to start learning about

how ordinaries lived,including responsible use ofcredit cards. Lucky me, I’dlearned that lesson early onthanks to my impulse-buyermother. It was simple—dowhateverMomwouldn’t.

I continued on into thelarge hall, only to come toanotherhalt,thistimetodealwith the wave ofdisorientation that had come

over me. I’d never beeninside the upperclassmen’scafeteria before. It had asimilar layout to theunderclassmen’s, a bunch oftables and chairs scattered inaroughlyrectangularpattern.But the lunch line here wascompletely different. Itlookedmorelikeafoodcourtin a mall. A row of vendorslinedthebackwall.Iscanned

the various names, unable tokeep fromgrinning at all theriffsonordinaryfoodjoints.

Instead of a Pizza Hut,therewasaPizzaTut. It hadanEgyptian theme, includinga pharaoh mascot chompingdownonabigcheesysliceofpizza. Next to it sat a TacoSpell, this onewith awizardintraditionalbluerobesandapointy hat holding up a taco

that he’d just conjured usingthewandinhishand.

Some of the others wereless obvious riffs but no lessamusing. There was a FairyGarden that seemed to serveprimarily soups and salads,and a Demon Burger thatneeded no description. Mypersonal favorite was theUnicorn Skewer. It lookedlike it served pretty much

everythingsolongasitcameskewered on a fake unicornhorn.

Once I got over thedistractionofthefoodcourt,Iscanned the tables for Eli. Iwasalmostconvincedthathewasn’t here yet when Ispotted him at a table off totheright.Hewasn’talone.Agirlstoodinfrontofhimwithherbacktome.

I stared at the figure,recognizing the long blondhair and curvy shape all tooeasily. I’d just seen it in mydream, after all. Nervous, Iheaded for them. Why wasKatarina talking to Eli? Hadthey seen each other overbreak? Was this the reasonshe’dmade an appearance inmydream?Stop being so paranoid,

Dusty. I grasped the silverbandonmywrist,respondingto the warming sensationthere automatically. At oncemydoubtbegantoease.

AsIdrewnearerthetable,Eli’s gaze shifted mydirection. A bright, broadsmile lit uphis face. Itmademy insides turn mushy, butthefeelingvanishedasecondlaterasKatarinaglancedover

her shoulder to investigatewho was worthy of such agreeting.

Whenshespottedme,hereyes narrowed. So did herlips, which was sayingsomething considering howfluffyandfulltheywere.Sheturned back around at once,spokesomefinalwordtoEli,and then sauntered off,catwalk style. I wanted to

glare at her, but it wasimpossible. The sight of herhad turned my brainmomentarily fuzzy. Katarinawasasiren,sameasSelene.

Before I could shake thefeeling off, Eli was besideme, his arms sliding aroundmy waist. “Good morning,”he said, as he captured mymouthwithhis.Askissesgo,it was pretty chaste, hardly

morethanabrushoflips,butinthemiddleofthecafeteria,surrounded by our peers, itfeltrisqué.Best.FirstDay.Ever.“Good morning,” I

whispered, but Eli stiffenedand pulled back. A WillGuardwasmovingtowardusfrom across the room. Webroke apart and sat downacross from each other. The

Guard, a young man withcolorless brownhair, seemedto consider the value ofscolding us for a second.Then he decided it wasn’tworth it and returned to hisstationnexttotheTacoSpell.

I grimaced and turned toEli.

He reached across thetable and took my hand,squeezing my fingers. “You

allright?”“Alittletired,butokay.”“Me, too.” He motioned

toward his food tray. “Areyou hungry? I got extra justincase.”

Glancing at the tray, Isnorted a laugh. A mountainof food covered the entiresurface, everything fromscrambled eggs to gravy andbiscuits topiecesofsausages

wrapped in bacon andskeweredonagoldenunicornhorn. “Um, thanks,” I said.“But you know I’m just oneperson not three, right?” Ireached over and pulled asausageoffthehorn.

Hepattedhisflatstomach.“Don’tworry. Itwon’t go towaste.”

Inoddedmyagreementtothis statement, having seen

proof of his ability to eatenoughforthreepeople.

“So,” I said, once Ifinished chewing, “what didKatarinawant?”

“Nothing really.” Heshrugged.“Shejustwantedtosayhi,and…um…tothankmeforbeingnicetoherlittlebrother.”

“Her little brother?”Outwardly,Isoundednormal.

Inwardly, my stomach wasdoing backflips and myvision had gone a little hazyaroundtheedges.Great.NowI was being paranoid andjealous.

“Yeah, it’s kind ofembarrassing, but—” Hehesitated,runningahandoverhis shaved head. “I sortaspentmostofthesummeratacamp formagickind.A kids’

camp, that is. Kat’s littlebrother was one of thecampers.”

I felt my eyebrows firstdraw together and then riseupasifpulledbyaninvisiblepuppeteer.

AfaintpinkishcolorfilledEli’s cheeks. “Dr.Hendershaw suggested I go,to try to catch up oneverything I’ve missed. You

know,withthenotbeingabletodomagicuntilacoupleofmonths ago.” He tapped afinger against his glamouredwand.Itwasanumenvessel,same as Bellanax, morepowerfulthanaregularwandbutnotasmuchasthesword.

“Huh.” Realizing mymouth was open, I closed it,trying to regain mycomposure.Iforcedaneutral

smile to my lips. “Thatsounds interesting. How wasit?”

Elimadeaface.“Awfulatfirst.Ididn’tevenwanttogo.I’mtoooldforsummercamp.Atleasttobeattendingoneasa camper. If anything, Ishouldbeacounselor.”

“No kidding.” I cringedinwardly, understanding alltoowellwhatitfeltliketobe

so out of place. My wholefirstyearatArkwellhadbeenthatway, and a good portionofthenextone,too.

“But after a couple ofdays, the other counselorsstartedtreatingmelikeoneofthem and it turned out to befun.Thekidswereablast.”

“Even Katarina’s littlebro?” I said, half-joking butmostlyjustincredulous.

Helaughed.“Surprisingly,yes. Tommy’s not at all likeKat.”Tommy and Kat? Tom

Kat. The thought got melaughing, too, and anyworryI might have had aboutKatarina making a move onEli vanished. I reachedforward and snagged anothersausage.

Weateinsilenceforafew

moments. Then Eli glancedaround and leaned forward,droppinghisvoiceashesaid,“So about the dream lastnight. I’ve been thinking itover, and I don’t believe theDe—”Hemadea sound liketryingtoclearhisthroat.

I frowned at the strangefacehewasmaking,as ifhismouth were overfull ofpeanutbutter.Hiseyesbegan

towater.“Oh,” I said. “It’s the

nondisclosurespell.”Istartedto saymore, but an ominoustingle sprouted over mytongue and I stopped. Itseemed thespellhaddeemedthe lunchroom too crowdedforthattopicofconversation.Iexhaled.“Well,thissucks.”

Eli nodded, his eyes stillwatering as he tried to force

his jaws apart. Severalminutes later he finallysucceeded. “Holy crap thathurt.”Herubbedhischinandcheekswithbothhands.

“We’re going to have tobe careful,” I said, not quiteunhappy to discover thestrictnessofthenondisclosurespell. If we couldn’t talkabout the Death’s Heart inhere, despite the cover of so

muchnoiseandactivity, thenthatmeantwewouldhave towait until we werecompletely alone to talkabout it. The idea of alonetime with Eli made my skinwarm. “Why don’t we planonmeetingupinone-thirteenafter classes today and talkaboutitthen?”

“Um … I can’t. Nottoday.”

“Whynot?”Eli shifted in his seat, his

eyes darting across the roomas if he were looking for areason to change the subject.I waited, unaccountablyanxious.

Finally, he sighed and hiseyes landed on me again.“There’s a training sessiontonight.”

“Fooooor what?” I said,

drawingoutthequestion.“Thegladiatorteam.”My mouth fell open.

“Huh?”Eli rolled his shoulders,

downplaying the monstrosityof this statement. Thegladiator team was the onlyschool sport at ArkwellAcademy, but joining itrequired a level ofproficiency in combative

magic far above Eli’s skills.Even if he had beenpracticing all summer, Idoubtedhe’dbegoodenoughtomakeiton.Nottomentionthat Coach Fritz hatedordinaries, stacking the oddsevenfurtheragainsthim.

“I want to play,” he said,hisexpressionhardening.

Iwincedattheyearninginhisvoice.Amixofregretand

guilt rose up inside me.Before that fateful night ayear ago when I firstdiscovered Eli and I weredream-seers, he’d been justan ordinary human boy,handsome and popular, a bitof a rebel, and perfectlycontent and happy with hislife.Nowhewaslowmanonthemagicaltotempole.

“I know it sounds crazy,”

Elisaid,“butI’vegottogiveitashot.”

“You’re a lot braver thanme,”Isaid.

“Nah.”Hewavedme off.“What’s theworst that couldhappen?”The worst? Well, firstly,

hemightfail,andIdefinitelydidn’t want that. Just theopposite.Iwantedhimhappyand triumphant. I wanted

thingstogoeasyforhimjustonce.Andsecondly—ifIwasgoingtobehonest—theworstwould be all the time we’dlosetogetherifhemadeitonthe team. The gladiators’training schedule madeordinary football practicelooktame.Theytrainedeverynight and every weekend,sometimes hours at a time,and they competed nearly all

year.But no, I refused to play

the part of needy girlfriend,one jealousof extracurricularactivities. Besides, I had myown extracurriculars to thinkabout. So far, that mostlyconsistedoftheDreamTeam,butthatmightchange.Icouldjoin the school newspaper ormaybe even the SuperheroesofTomorrowClub,whereall

the members were aspiringsuperheroes obsessed withcomic books and convincingthemagickindgovernment tolet them use their magic outin the ordinaryworld for thegreater good. I could totallyrock the superhero thing, Ithought,picturingBellanaxasit looked outside of theglamour.Solongasitdoesn’tincludespandex.

Yes, there would still beplenty of time for us. Thosepeskyauthorityfigureswouldhavetotryalotharderbeforethey could stop Eli and mefromhappening.

Feeling better about thesituation, I gave him thebiggest, most sincere smile Ihadinme.“Ihopeyoumakeit.”

Smiling back, Eli reached

over and grabbed my hand.“Me,too.”

5

InvoluntarySeparation

Myconfidence thatEli and I

would find time for eachother took another hit whenwe arrived at homeroom ashort while later. This wasmy third year reporting toMrs. Bar’s classroom inFinneganHall.Mrs.Barwasa fairy, and one of myfavorite teachers at Arkwell.WhenEliandIwalkedinshebestowed on us a smile sowide and jolly that it made

herjowlsjiggle.Shewasstillsmilingafew

minutes later as she handedout our course schedules. Iscannedmineatonce.

First period, history andEnglish. Those two subjectshad been separate freshmanandsophomoreyear,butwerenowcombinedtoallowroomforstudyingnewsubjects.

Second period, biology.

This was my first entirelynew subject.Despite it beingascienceclass Iwas lookingforward to it. Rumor had itwe would study magicalplantsandanimalsinadditionto all that boring ordinarystuff like mitosis anddissectingfrogs.Personally,Iwas hoping for unicorns onthesyllabus.

Third period, ordinary

living. This, too, was a newsubject,onedirectlyrelatedtothe CasterCard and the foodvendors.

Fourthperiod,psionicsFifthperiod,spell

castingSixthperiod,gymSeventhperiod…

“Math?” I said aloud.“The last class of the day?

What kind of cruel andunusualtortureisthis?”

“What are you talkingabout?” said Eli, looking upfrom his examination of hisowncourseschedule.

“We have math seventhperiod. I’m terrible at math,it’s—” I stopped speaking,suddenly aware of the wayEli was looking at me.“What’swrong?”

“I have spell castingseventhperiod.”

A leadball spiraleddowntheedgesofmystomachandsettled into the pit. “Are yousure?”

Eli motioned to myschedule. “Can I see?” Ihandeditover,andheplaceditonthedesknexttohis.Hisexpression soured as hecomparedthetwo.

“Isitbad?”Isaid,alreadyknowing the answer but stillhopeful.

Eli didn’t reply, justhanded both papers back tome.Ididn’twanttolook,butitwas like trying to ignore awreck on the side of thehighway, morbid curiosity amagnetic force. As I’dsuspected,ourscheduleswerecompletely different. Other

than lunch and sixth periodgym, we wouldn’t be seeingeachotheratall,alldaylong.

Swallowinganger,Iraisedmy hand. “Mrs. Bar, I thinkthere’s a problem with myschedule.”

Mrs. Bar, who’d beencirculating around the roomansweringquestions,waddledover.“Whatisit,mydear?”

Ihandedhermyschedule.

“Idon’tthinkthisisright.Eliand I are supposed to havethe same schedule. We’redream-seers.”

Mrs.Bar’ssmile,soperkya moment before, drooped.She didn’t even botherreading the list of classesbefore handing me back theschedule. “I’mafraid there isnomistake.”

I inhaled, dizzy with

outrage.“Thanks for checking,

Mrs. Bar,” he said. “We justwantedtomakesure.”

“You’re welcome, Mr.Booker.” She patted him ontop of his buzzed head,looking relieved. Then sheheadedoffforsaferenvirons.

Huffing,Ifoldedmyarmsover my chest and fell backagainst my chair. “Score

another one for theestablishment.”

Eli laughed, althoughtherewasn’tanyhumor in it.“Are you thinking ofbecomingananarchist?”

“Yes,ifitmeanswewon’thave to dealwith this forcedseparation.” My voicecracked as I spoke, tearsthreatening.

Eli reached over and

squeezed my shoulder. “It’llbe okay, Dusty. We’ll makedo.”

“I know,” I said, sighing.“But I wish they’d cut ussomeslack.”

“Me, too. But they justthink they’re doing what’sbestforus.”

I ran my tongue over mylips, his reasonablenessmaking me feel anxious

instead of comforted. Lastyear,LadyElainehad sharedwith him a vision of thefutureshe’dseen—avisionofour future, mine and Eli’s. Ididn’tknowwhathadbeeninit,butitwasbadenoughthatfor a while he’d avoidedlettingourrelationshipextendbeyond the friend level. Iwasn’tsurewhathadchangedhis mind, although it

might’vehadsomethingtodowithhowIalmostdiedtryingtosaveLyonshold.Ormaybehe’d decided the same as Ihad, that our feelings weretoostrong todeny.Sostrongthat there wasn’t any chancethecursecoulddefeatit.

Eli letgoofmyshoulder.“You could come to thegladiator practice tonight, ifyouwant.”

Icoughed.“Youmeanliketotrain?”

“Sure why not?” hegrinned. “You’re pretty goodatcombativemagic.”

I shot him a crazy look,eyebrowsandmouthaskew.

“What?It’strue.I’veseenyoudo it.”Eli’s eyes flickedbriefly toBellanax.Heknewwhat it was, of course,although not the sword’s

name. No one but me knewthat.Well,exceptperhapsforMarrow.

“IthinkI’dratherwatch.”Eli shrugged. “Whatever

makesyouhappy.”Justyou,Ithought.Wegotupasthebellrang

andheadedoutthedoor.“I’llsee you at lunch.”Eli leanedin for a quick kiss andwhispered against my ear,

“Becarefultoday.”“What do you—” I broke

off, remembering the dreamfromlastnight.

“I’m sure it was justsymbolic,butbettersafethansorry.” Eli kissed me againandthenpulledaway.“We’lltalkaboutitsoon.”

“All right.” Clinging tothishope, I headeddown thehallway in the opposite

direction. My spirits lifted alittlewhen Selene turned outto be in my history andEnglishclass.

Takingseatsinthemiddleof the room, we did a quickschedulecomparison.Wehadfirst, second, third, and sixthperiod together—a newrecord for us. Last year Iwould’ve been overjoyedabout so many classes

together, but my happinesswas muted by the lingeringdisappointment with Eli’sschedule. But at least Selenewas happy—Lance was inthis class, too. He sat downon Selene’s other side,casting me his signaturecocky grin, all teeth andsmarm.

“Long time no see,Dusty,” he said. “Cause any

accidents today? Any scenesofmassdestructionyet?”

“Nope,” I said. “But it’sstill early. And now thatyou’re here, I’ve got moremotivation.Youdomake thebesttarget.”

“I make the besteverything,” he said, slidinghis arm around Selene. Sheseemed to ignore him, but arosy blush colored her

cheeks,makingherlookmoreradiantthanever.

Mr. Corvus greeted theclass with his usual imperialgaze, the expressioninevitablegiventheeyepatchheworeoverhismissing lefteye. Then he proceeded tohand out textbooks thatwereroughly the size of cinderblocks and stuffed withtissue-paper-thinpages.

“We will be starting thisyearoffwithalookattheOldEnglish period, one of mypersonal favorites in bothliterature and history,” Mr.Corvus said with somethinglike a smile on his face—oras close to it as he evermanaged. “First up,Beowulf.” He snapped hisfingers over his head, andmagic filled the air. In front

ofhim,aswirlofdarksmokeappeared. It soon took onshape and began tomaterialize into somethingsolid. Seconds later a giantcreaturethatlookedpartman,partbear,andmostlymonsterstood in the classroom. Tenfeettallorbetter,itsmassive,bulbous head reached nearlytotheceiling.

I watched transfixed by

terroras its lips spreadapart,revealingteethas longasmyindexfingersandamouthbigenough to swallow a babygoatwhole.Ormaybeababydragon.Asitsmouthreachedits fullest expanse, thecreature let out a roar loudenough to make the wallsshake. I shrank back from it,along with the rest of theclass.

Still roaring, the creaturechargedforward,spider-quickdespite its cumbersome size.Itheadedinmydirection,andI reached forBellanax, readyto drop the glamour and gutthethingwiththesword.Butthe creature turned towardLance at the last second. Itstretched out its twoenormous clawed hands andseized him by the throat.

Lance letoutagirlish squealjust as the creature dissolvedback into vapor anddisappeared.

Everyone laughed,including Selene, althoughshe did it with admirablerestraint.

“Justbeglad itwasn’thismother, Mr. Rathbone,” Mr.Corvus said, motioning atLance. “Female trolls are

twiceasfierceasmales.”Lance rubbed his fingers

over his neck and let out ashaky laugh. “That’s true ofmostspecies,yeah?”

Beside him, a wickedsmile flashed across Selene’sface.

The rest of class provedmuch less exciting, butnevertheless it passed byquickly. Mr. Corvus, for all

his imperial manner, knewhow to give a captivatinglecture.

Afterward, Selene and Isaid good-bye to Lance andthen headed for our biologyclass. It was located in theMenagerie, an area ofArkwellI’donlyeverseen—and smelled—from adistance.Locatedonthenorthside of campus, a tall stone

wall separated theMenageriefrom the rest of Arkwell,making the place a campusontoitself.Withgoodreason,I supposed, considering thetypes of plants and animalsthatweresaidtobehousedinthere.

SeleneandIgatheredwiththe rest of the class outsidethe main gates into theMenagerie, waiting

admittance.“Good morning, class,”

the teacher called from theother side of the massivegate. She was a trim,muscular woman with shortbrown hair and skin turnedleathery and wrinkled fromcountless hours spent in theelements. “I’m Ms. Miller,your new biology teacher.Before I open these doors, I

will need you to repeat thisoathafterme.Pleaseholdupyour right hand.” Shedemonstrated thenwaited forthe class to comply. Seleneand I exchanged a puzzledglance as we raised ourhands.

“Very good,” Ms. Millersaid.“Nowrepeatafterme. Iherebydeclare,onoath,thatIwill not touch, tease, or talk

toanyanimalorplantlocatedwithin these walls—” Shepaused,allowingustorepeat.“Unlessgivenpermissionandinstructiontodoso.”Anotherpause while we repeated.“Furthermore, I will notattempt to open any lockedarea within the Menagerie.And I acknowledge thatfailure to follow these rulesmay result in my death,

dismemberment, orinvoluntaryexile.”

I repeated the last of theoath,evenmorepuzzled.Thedeath and dismemberment, Igot. There might be anymanner of magical creatureskept in there, includingdragons and trolls, accordingto rumor, anyway. Butinvoluntary exile? What didthat even mean? Better yet,

didIreallywanttofindout?Satisfiedbyouroaths,Ms.

Miller slid a giant skeletonkey into the padlock on thegate.Asecondlater,itswungopen with a mournful creakand we all shuffled inside.Ms.Miller, looking very un-teacher-like in jeans and agreenpoloshirt, ledusdowna narrow passageway andonto a grassy lawn

crisscrossedwithcobblestonepaths. Walls of animal-filledcagessurroundedthelawnonall sides. Only a few of theanimals were recognizablyordinary, some monkeys, acouple of parrots, varioussnakes.The restwere clearlymagical.

Several Menagerieworkers, also in green poloshirts, were walking various

leashed animals across thelawn. One of the creaturesresembled a salamander,except itwas bright redwitha steady stream of smokeissuing out from its ears andnostrils. Another looked likea rabbit with antlers. Yet athirdwasababy lynx, small,furry, and adorable, but withyellow eyes glowing withmagic.

“No need to worry,” Ms.Miller said over our excitedwhispers. “Only class Canimals are allowed on thelawn and never without aleashandhandler.”

“ClassC?”someoneaskedfrombehindme.

“Those deemed relativelyharmless and with onlymildly aggressivetendencies,”saidMs.Miller.

“That’s comforting,” Iwhispered to Selene. Shemade a strangled noise deepinherthroat,halfamusement,halfdismay.

We crossed the lawn andcontinued down a widewalkway. On the left was arow of stone stables. On theright were a series ofgreenhouses,eachwiththick-panedglassanddomedroofs.

Signsstoodout frontofeachbuilding,bearinglabelsofthesame classification systemMs.Millerhadmentioned.

The stables andgreenhouses gave way to acourtyard area. Roughlysquare in shape, it wassurrounded on three sides byzoo-like cages, eachcontaining a uniqueenvironment.One heldwater

features, a pool, and severalstreams running in betweengrassy banks. Tall trees andclimbing structures filledanother. The third featured acave environment. It wascompletelyclosedin,gloomyand full of large rocks.Several of those rocks hadopenings in them, smalltunnels barely large enoughfor a human to crawl inside.

Old food and other rubbishlined the floor. Some of itlookedlikepiecesofbone.

Tomysurprise, therewasa human inside the cage,anotherMenagerieworker ina green polo shirt. He wassweepingthestonefloorwithapushbroom.Heglancedupas the class gathered around.Forasecond,asheswepthisgaze over us, he paused on

me. A look like recognitioncrossed his face. I didn’tknow him, not even a little.He had short brownhair anda long scraggly beard thatobscuredmostofhisfeatures,allexceptforabeakednose.

I frowned, wondering atthatlook.

“This area is where wewillbespendingthefirstfewweeks of class,” Ms. Miller

said, motioning toward thethreecages.Thenshepointedto the rocky one. “Cananyone guess what sort ofcreature lives in thisenvironment?”

No one answered at first,none of us certainwhat kindof teacher Ms. Miller wouldprove to be—the kind thatwould encourage us towardthe right answer or make us

feel stupid for guessingwrong.

Finally,OliverCorkraisedhis hand. We all turned tostare at him as he answered.Oliver was a dryad, tall andthinwithlightbrownskin.“Isittrashtrolls?”

Ms. Miller smiled,revealing a set of uneventeeth. “You are correct. Thisis one of several dens for

Arkwell’s trash trolls. Everylarge foodwaste bin you seein the cafeteria and otherplacesissetoveratunnelthatleads back to theMenagerie.We will be studying trashtrollsindepththissemester.”

I stifled a groan at thisnews. Trash trolls were tiny,malicious creatures thatresembled feral Mr. PotatoHeads with pointy teeth and

sharp claws. The Arkwellstudentguidewarnedtoneverput your hand in a trash canunlessyoufeltlikedonatingafingerortwo.

“But first,” Ms. Millersaid. “Iwill showyou to thelaboratory we will be usingfor the lecture portion of ourclasses.”

And with that, she led usoff to the Menagerie’s main

building, a tall fortress-likestructure, located roughly inthe middle of the complex.Wespent therestof thehourgetting familiar with theequipment and leafingthrough our new textbooksbeforeMs.Millerescortedusout to the main gates onceagain.

Ontheway,IspottedthatsameMenagerieworkerwith

the beard and beaked nose,this timemuckingoutoneofthe cages on the main lawn.As before, he seemed tosinglemeoutwithhisgaze.Ishivered, the image of mydeadbodylyingonthatbargerisingup inmind. Itwas justsymbolic, I remindedmyself,andkeptonwalking.

NextSelene and I hurriedto our ordinary living class

where we received ourCasterCards,completewithaMasterCard knockoff logoand a unique sixteen-digitnumber. We then spent along, boring hour practicinghowtoswipethem.

Afterward, I said good-bye toSelenebeforeheadingto psionics. This was by farmy best subject. Not tomention itwas taught by the

best teacher atArkwell—andthe most handsome. Mr.Deverellflashedhisgorgeoussmileatmeas Icame inandsatdown.Ismiledback.

“How are you doing,Dusty?” he said, in hisSouthern cowboy accent thathadawayofmakingmewanttogiggle.

Iclearedmythroat,tryingto stifle the blush rising up

my neck. “I’m doing good,thanks.Howareyou?”

“Fine.Glad that school isback in session.” He studiedmy face for a second, hisexpression pensive. “Weshouldsetasidesometimetotalksoon.I’dliketohearhowyou’refaringafterourprivatesessionslastyear.”

“Oh,” I said, my blushdarkening. In all the

excitement at Lyonshold andthe long vacation afterward,I’d almost forgotten thecrucial roleMr.Deverellhadplayed in helping me dealwith the mental block I’ddeveloped last year. ThecauseofthatblockhadturnedouttobeBellanax,anditwasgone now. But Mr. Deverelldidn’t know anything aboutit.Feelingguilty,Isaid,“I’m

sorry. I meant to e-mail butgotalittlebusy.”

He smiled again. It didn’tmakemyheadfuzzythewaya siren’s would’ve, butalmost. “No apologiesnecessary. Still, I lookforward to chatting about itlater.”

He turned and wanderedto the other side of theclassroom where Katarina

Marcel had just sat down. Igroaned at the sight of herand then glanced around theroom,hopingforafriend.

Lance appeared in thedoorway,acellphonepressedto his ear. His face wasflushedtoadarkshadeofred,as if he’d just eaten a rawhabaneropepper.

“I don’t care what youthink, Dad,” he said taking

the seat next tome. “I’ll seeand date whoever I want.”There was a long pause.“Yeah, you go ahead and dothat. See if I care.” Helowered the phone from hisear and pressed the endbutton. “Asshole,” hemuttered.

I winced, uncertain whatto say. It wasn’t like I couldpretendIhadn’theard.“Ishe

upset about Selene again?” Iasked,gently.Selenehadtoldme that Mr. Rathbone’sprejudice against inter-kinddatingwashalfthereasonsheandLancehadbrokenup thefirsttime.

Lance grunted. “If byupsetyoumeanon thevergeof disinheriting me, thenyes.”

I gaped, unsure if he was

beingserious.He turned an imploring

gazeonme.“Pleasedon’ttellSelene.It’llonlyhurther.”

“Iwon’t.”Pitychurnedinmy gut. Or maybe it wasmore like commiseration.“Looks like both of us aregettingahard timeoverwhowewanttodate.”

A scowl twisted Lance’sfeatures until he resembled

his pop culture hero, theJoker. “Screw that. Weshould be free to dateanybodywewant.”

I nodded, but didn’tcomment. Eli and I had itrough with the dream-seercurse, no doubt, but I had afeeling Lance and Selenemight have it harder. Therewas no “we’re just lookingoutforyourbestinterests”in

their case. It was justprejudice, and that seemed atougherwartofight.

When the bell rang anhour later, I leaped up frommy desk and practically ranall the way to the cafeteria.Lancekeptpacewithme.HewasaseagertoseeSeleneasIwas to see Eli. I supposed,in light of all this newevidence of how much he

adored her, how much strifehewaswilling togo throughto bewith her, Iwould haveto cut him some slack.A lotofit.

Lunch passed all tooquickly, and spell castingafterwardwaytooslowly.Sodidgym.EliandIbarelygottotalktooneanotherbetweenrunning lapsanddoingpush-ups.

Buthewaswaitingformeoutside the locker roomafterward. I hurried over tohim, eager for a kiss, butstoppedatthesightofseveralWillGuardsloiteringnearby.

Eli eyed them dubiouslyand said tome, “Practice forthe gladiator team is at four-thirtyifyouwanttocome.”

“I’ll be there.” Therewasn’tachanceIwouldmiss

it.“Good.”Elisaid,andthen

despite the Will Guardwatching us, he leanedforwardandkissedmycheek.

Sighing, I headed downthe hallway in the oppositedirection, pulling out mycourse schedule to double-check the room number formy math class—285 JupiterHall.

Spying rain outside thegymnasium windows, Iheadeddownthestairs to thetunnels that ran beneathArkwell’scampus.

AsIdescended,themurkystench of the canal waterfilled my nose. The smellteased memories of Eli’sdream to the forefront ofmymind. The tunnels consistedof a single dirt path of

varyingwidththatransidebyside with the canal. Therewere lotsofnaturekindswhoneeded regular access towater.Often, theywouldslipdownhereinbetweenclassesforarefresher.Butrightnowthe surface was dark andundisturbed—far too muchliketheriverinEli’sdream.

With prickles dancingdown my back, I glanced

behind me and all around,worried by howquiet itwas,nosignsofanyoneanywhere.Totally normal, I remindedmyself. There were lots oftunnels and Arkwell washuge.

Nevertheless, I quickenedmy pace, darting around thecorner.Thetunnelaheadwasjust as empty as the onebefore.ExceptwhenIpassed

byanalcove,ahand reachedout from the darkness andclosedaroundmyarm.

6

NewLeads

Shrieking, I spun toward the

person. I raisedmy free armoninstinct.

“Hypno-soma!”Thedazingcurseburstout

from the tips of my fingersand struck my attacker rightin the chest. Too late, I sawthe familiar face of mymother. She let out a greatgaspofairandthenstumbledbackward.

“Mom!” I dropped my

hand and rushed over. “Oh,Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’tknowitwasyou.”

She pushed me away.Fury and pain lit herexpression.Seeingit,Ibitmytongue and waited. Speakingnow would just make itworse.

Finally, she drew anotherbreathandstoodupfromherhunchedposition.“Whereare

onearthdidyoulearntocastthat hard? You’re onlysixteenforgoodnesssake.”

I put my hands on myhips. “I’ll be seven—” Ibroke off, finally getting agood look at her. Shock torethrough me. This wasn’t theMoira Nimue-Everhart Iknew.Itcouldn’tbethesamewoman I’d said good-bye toless than a week ago. This

personhardlylookedlikemymotheratall.Herblondhair,normally short and styled tophoto-shoot perfection, hunglank around her makeup-lessface. She looked so old, likeone of those movie puppetsafter having its vital essencedrained. I didn’t want tobelieve that makeup couldmake that much difference,butapparentlyitcould.

Mom shook her head,refocusing. She grabbed meby the shoulders. “Of all thegood luck, Destiny, I’m sogladIfoundyou.Iwasgoingto sneak up to your dormtonight, but this is so muchbetter.”

I gaped, still wrestlingwith shock that was slowlyturning toward fear. “What’swrong?Whyareyouhere?”

“They’recomingforme.”“Who?”Itookastepback

and out of her clutches. Myshoulders were beginning tothrob from her pincer-likegriponthem.

“Thepolice.”“What?” I groaned. “Oh,

geez,Mom,whatdidyoudothistime?”

“Shhhh.” She pressed afinger to her mouth and

glanced behind us, thedirection I’d just come. Asecond later she spun on herheel and started walkingdownthetunnel.Shegrabbedmy wrist and hauled mebesideher.“Howlongbeforeyournextclassstarts?”

“Like five minutes.” Ionceagainfreedmyselffromhergrip,butIkeptpacewithher. She fell into an easy

stride, her movementsnonchalant and at completeodds with her anxiousexpression. She was dressedlike a student—anotherunprecedented event—injeans, T-shirt, and neon-coloredrunningshoes.

“You can’t be late so I’lltalkfast.”

“Screwthat.It’sjustmathclass. If you’re really in trou

—”She cutme off. “No. The

moment you’re late they’llcome looking for you—andthenme.”

I gulped, fear starting tobubble up inside me. Mymomhadbeenintroublewiththe police before, especiallyin her younger years. She’dbeenarresteddozensoftimes,mostly for social activism

stuff likeprotests and rallies.And back when it was stillaround, she’d been chargedwithminor violations of TheWill spell. The nature of ourNightmare magic made herimmune to the spell, anadvantageshelikedtoflaunt.Butnoneofthoserun-inshadever resulted in serioustroubleforher.

It seemed things were

differentthistime.“Mom,whatdidyoudo?”Shejerkedherheadatme,

her glare hot enough to searflesh. “I didn’t do anything.At least, not what I’m beingaccusedof.”

“Andwhatisthat?”Sheshushedmeagainand

glanced over her shoulder. Imimicked the gesture,spottingnothingfollowingus

except the flow of the canalwater.

Mom turned back.“They’resayingIkilledTitusKirkwood.”

Istumbledtoahalt,shockmakingmeclumsy.“Areyouserious?”

Momhissedatme.“Comeon.Beforesomeoneseesus.”

I fell back into step, myheart doing a double-time

beat in my chest. “Why dotheythinkyoukilledhim?”

Mom hesitated. “I … Idon’t know. There’s somenewdetectiveonthecase.Hetookoverwhenthetrailwentcold a few weeks back. Hebroughtmeinforquestioningrightafterwegothomefromour trip. I didn’t think itwasserious, but it seems he’ssince found some new

evidence.”“Adetective?”Theweird,

weightless sensation ofcoincidencecameoverme.

“Yes,”Momsaid,grittingherteethhardenoughIcouldhearit.“He’spartofD.I.M.S.Detective—”

“Valentine,” I finishedforher.

Momstoppedsoabruptly,ittookmeseveralstepstodo

thesame.Iturnedtowardher,seeing concern furrow herbrow. “How do you knowthat?”

Iranahandovermyhair,smoothingthecurlsforhalfamoment. “Lucky guess. Hecame to see me and Eli lastnight. We’re supposed to befinding … something forhim.” I stuckoutmy tongue,trying to fight off the

encroachingspell.Mom pinnedmewith her

gaze, hermouth a sharp linewith its strangely colorlesslips.“Whatsomething?”

I shookmyhead. “I can’tsay. We signed anondisclosureagreement.”

ThelineofMoira’smouthbroke as she began to worryatherbottomlip.“Comeon,”she said, beckoning me

forward.“Weneedtohurry.”I fell into step with her

once again. “I can be a fewminutes late without raisingany alarm. It is the first dayofschool.”

Mom ignored thecomment.“I’mgoingtohaveto disappear for a while. Idon’t know how long it’sgoing to take to get thissorted out. But in the

meantime,Destiny, you havetodosomethingforme.”

I blinked, wonderstruck.My mom needed somethingfrom me? Surely this was asign of the apocalypse.“What’sthat?”

“Remember that questionyou kept asking me allsummer?”

I glanced sidelong at her,tryingtodeterminewhichone

she meant. There’d been somany:When can I have myphone back? When are wegoing home? “Do you meanthe one about who freedMarrowfromhistomb?”

“That’stheone.”Curiosity staved off my

worry. The mystery of whofreed Marrow was one mymomhadbeentryingtosolvefor months now. It was half

the reason for our trip toEurope in the first place.Mygreat grandmother Nimueimprisoned him in a dreamcenturies ago, the only wayshe could think of to stop amanwhocouldnotstaydead.Not justanyman,but her

dream-seer.SheandMarrowhad once been like Eli andme.

A wrench went through

my stomach at the thought.Thecurse.

I pushed it away andturned my attention to mymom, still eager for more.Every time I’d asked herabout the search she shutmedownrightaway.Momdidn’twant me to get involved.Whoever had freed Marrowwas dangerous, his mostpowerful follower. I couldn’t

believe she was about to tellme now.Breathless, I asked,“Doyouknowwhoitis?”

Mom shook her head, herexpression pinched. “I’vethought I’ve had him overandoveragain,buteachtimeI’ve been wrong. And nowI’moutoftime.”

Weroundedacorner,andI spottedmy exit just ahead.My pulse began to pound in

my ears. Was this reallyhappening? Was my momgoingontherun?

“Here, take this.” Momthrust her hand toward me,and I felt something smalland hard press against mypalm. Iglancedat theobject,surprisedtoseeitwasaflashdrive.

Ifrownedupather.“Everything I’ve found

out about the person is onthere. I need you and Eli totake up the searchwhile I’mgone.”

My mouth fell open. Notonly was my mom trustingme with this information—finally—but she was alsogiving Eli and me herblessing.At least, that’s howit felt, even if she didn’texactlyusethosewords.

“I’m more certain thaneverbefore that theperson isatArkwell,”Moiracontinued,quickeningherpacedownthetunnel. “I just don’t knowwho. It’s most likely amember of staff, a teacher,administration, a lunchroomworker,someonelikethat.”

“That’s a pretty big poolofpeople.…”

“There are clues on the

flashdrive.”Shestoppedandswung toward me, allpretenses of being a studentdisappearing. This was themotherI’dknownallmylife.Her nostrils were flared, hereyes blazing—hard andbeautiful.“You’vegottofindhim.Ifwecangettohim,wemightbeabletostopMarrowfrom coming back for goodthistime.”

I droppedmy gaze to theflash drive, doubt churning.“You mean if he isn’t backalready,”Isaid,rememberingthe Death’s Heart. I inhaled,desperatetotellheraboutit.

“We have to hope not,”Mom said, setting her teethtogetherinagrimace.

I balled my hands intofists, grappling withfrustration. “Are you really

going?”“I have to.” Mom started

walking again. “There won’tbeanytalkingmywayoutofit this time. From what I’veheard of Valentine, the onlything he’s going to accept isabsolute proof of myinnocence.AndeventhenI’mnotsosure.”

“AreyousayingValentineisouttogetyou?”Ihurriedto

keepupwithher.“It’spossible.”“What did you do to

him?”Mom scowled. “Nothing.

Contrary to your belief, I’mnot in the habit of makingenemiesofpoliceofficers.”

“You mean except forSheriffBrackenberry.”

Mom snorted.“Brackenberry’s grudge is

personal. He never got overmedumpinghim.”

My eyes widened. Mymom and the Sheriff? Ew.“Well,thatexplainsalot.”

“Never you mind.” Momwaved the subject away.“There’s no telling whatValentine’s motives are. Hecould be just one of thosecops ego-bound on closingcases no matter what, or he

might be one of Marrow’sfollowers trying to stop mefromfindingoutwhosethimfree.”

“And arresting you formurder would be a prettygoodway,” Isaid,coming toahalt.We’dreachedthebaseof the stairs that led up toJupiterHall.

Mom stopped and facedme. “Undoubtedly. I’m just

fortunate I had warningbeforehecould.”

“Fromwho?”“A friend in the police

department. One of the fewpeople I still trust. Whichremindsme…”Momcuppedmy hands with hers andforcibly closed my fingersaroundtheflashdrive.“Don’ttrust anyone but Eli andSelene with this. Not even

LadyElainecanknowIgaveittoyou.”

Iarchedaneyebrow.“Youdon’ttrustLadyElaine?”

“I don’t trust the peoplearoundher.Toomanyof themagickind government haveturned out to be Marrowsupporters. How many moreare there? Titus Kirkwood,Bethany Grey—I’m certainthey’re just the tip of a very

deepiceberg.”“Do you really think Val

—”Ibrokeoffasthebellforseventhperiodsounded.

Mom flinched. “Hide thatflash drive. You’ve got togo.”

“Mom—” I started toprotest, but she pulledme infor a quick hug. The gesturewas sounexpected, sooutofcharacter,thatagreatwhoosh

of fear soared through mychest. Mom was in realtrouble this time. She wasscared. Somehow the realityof that frightened me fardeeperthananythingelse.

Mom let go of me andturned away from the stairs,back to the tunnel. “I’llcontactyouwhenIcan.”

“Wait,” I said. “How areyou going to get out of

Arkwellfromdownhere?”Mom glanced over her

shoulder. “The same way Igotin—byboat.”

“Youboatedinhere?”Mom started to answer,

but a noise reached us fromdownthe tunnelandwebothturned toward it. Heavyfootsteps were coming thisway.Asecondlater,IspottedthreeWillGuards.Onehada

wand at the ready, another astaff. The third wasnaturekind, his pointed earsand outstretched handmarkinghimafairy.

Mom spun the otherdirection, ready to flee, butshefrozeastwopoliceoffersappeared, blocking the way.Therewasnowheretogobutintothecanalorupthestairs.

“Come on,Mom,” I said,

choosingthesteps.Shedidn’thesitatebutchargedafterme.

“Don’tyoudoanythingtohelp me, you understand?”she said, panting. “You stayout of theway. I don’t wantyouintrouble,too.”

“But,Mom.”“I mean it, Dusty. If

Valentine is working forMarrow, we can’t give himan excuse to get at you, too.

For once in your life thinkbeforeyouactanddowhat Isay.”

Herwordsstung.Shewasmy mother, and the menfollowing us looked set ontakingherdown.HowcouldIjuststandbyandwatch?

Wereached the topof thestepsandenteredJupiterHall.

“You go thatway.”Mompointed down the hallway.

“Maybethey’llfollow.”“Okay.” I took off at a

run, trying to be as noisy aspossible. It wasn’t hard withthe hallway empty ofstudents. I glanced over myshoulder to see Mom hadgone out the door onto thecommons.

The men arrived amoment later. I turned backaround, doing my best to

distract them. It seemed toworkforhalfasecond,untilIheard one of them shout.“Shewentoutside!”

I skidded to a stop,pivoted, and saw all themenheaded after my mom,ignoring me completely. Idoubled back. Mom mighthave commanded me not tointerfere,butthatdidn’tmeanIhadtostayaway.

When I arrived on thecommons,ahalf-dozenpoliceofficersandWillGuardshadsurrounded my mom. Shestood in the middle of thelawn, both arms ready infrontofherasshedidaslowcircle,waiting for the attack.A steady drizzle of rain wasslowlyplasteringherhair,herbangsfallingoverhereyes.

One of the policemen

called, “It’ll be so muchbetter for everyone if youcome peaceably, Ms.Everhart.”

“Peaceably?” My motherlaughed. “It’s like you don’tknow me at all, Matthew.”She pointed her arm at him.“Ceno-crani.”

The befuddlement spellstruck the man in the head,and he stumbled sideways,

doing a slow, awkward fallontothestonepathway.

“Oh,God,Mom,whatareyou doing?” I said, fingerscurled into fists as I foughtbacktheurgetojumpin.Shecouldn’t possibly take on allofthem.

Or maybe she could. Themoment after the firstpoliceman had fallen, one ofthe Will Guards behind her

castajabjinx.Momspunandcountereditaseasilyasifshehad eyes in the back of herhead.

The other policemen andWill Guards soon followedsuit. One after another, theylobbied spells at her. Momblocked and countered eachone.Myjawslowlyfellopenat the spectacle. It wasmorelikewatching a dance than a

fight—my mother partneredwithall thesepeople.Aspellcasthere,ablockthere,pivot,turn, duck, cast again. Therewasa fluidity to it, I’dneverseen before, not even in thegladiatorgames.

The fight had drawnspectators, students andteachersalike.I turnedtotheperson nearest me. “That’smymom.” I couldn’t help it.

My awe refused to becontained. Especially as Irealizedshewasgoing togetaway. One by one thepolicemen and Will Guardswere falling to her magic.The few spells that hadmanaged to get past herdefenses hadn’t slowed herdownatall.

But then more policemenarrived, Sheriff Brackenberry

and Detective Valentineamong them. The formerwatchedthescenewithalookofadmirationdawningonhisbroad face. But the latter’ssoon twisted into a look ofoutrage.

“Stop attacking atrandom!” Valentine shouted.Somehow his voice carriedoverthenoiseofthefighting.One by one the policemen

ceasedtheirattack.Fearbegan to twist inmy

gut. My mother’s haughty,confident stance was givingwaytoworryassheturnedina slow circle, braced for thenextattack.

“Onmymark,”Valentineshouted,raisinghishand.

“You can’t!” I screamed.Thereweremore thanfifteenof them now. That much

magicatoncecouldkillher.“One, two, three—now!”

Valentine’s spell reachedMomfirst,strikingher in thechest. More than a dozenfollowed in the second after.There were too many toblock.Even formy superstarmother.

She fell in slow motion,landing on her back in thegrass.Shedidnotgetup.

7

GuiltTrap

Inevermadeittomathclass.

Or to gladiator practice.Moments after my momsuccumbed to Valentine’scoordinatedattack,agroupofWill Guards surrounded me.Theyweren’tquiteashostileto me as they had been toMom, but close enough. Theflashdrive felt as heavy as astoneinmypocket.

“Sir, what do you wantdone with this one?” the

nearestpolicemanasked.Valentine glanced at me.

His angry expression hadbeen replacedwith a look ofindifference.“Takeherdownto the station forquestioning.”Oh, crap. Now the flash

drive felt as heavy as ananvil. Mom’s warning keptechoinginmymind.Ineededtoget ridof this. Idoubted I

would have any right toprivacywiththeseguys.

As if to prove this point,oneofthepolicemenorderedme to hand over myschoolbag. I did so, hoping Ididn’t have any contrabandI’dforgottenaboutinsideit.

Withtheweightofthebaggone frommy shoulders, theflashdrivegrewevenheavier.Where to hide it? I scanned

around, hoping for a likelyplace,buttherewasnothing.

Decidingtobidemytime,I glanced over at my mom.They’d placed another spellon her, hoisting her into theair.Herarmswerepulledoutto her sides with her legshanging limply together.Herhead careened to one side,lank hair haloed around herface.Shelookeddead.

I turned away from her,unabletobearthesight.

A fewminutes later, fourof the policemen shepherdedme off to the main parkinglot. Shepherding was indeedtherightword,consideringallofthemwerewerewolvesandI felt as frightened as a babylamb. Justbeforewe reachedthe parking lot, I spotted asingle potted plant at the

corneroftwowalkways.Thiswasmy last chance to dumpthe flash drive. I just had tohope that no one elsediscovered it and that theplant would be enough toshielditfromtherain.

I reached into my pocketand waited until we drewnear.ThenIcasuallytosseditin. I held my breath,convinced one of the

policemen behind me hadnoticed,butnoonecalledfora halt. By the time wereached the waiting blacksedan, I was breathing easyagain.

The police station, knownas“theRush”bymostof thepeople who worked there—and the people who madefrequentvisits—waslocatedacouple of miles west of

Arkwell Academy in theabandoned Rush Sanitariumfor the Criminally Insane. Asignpostedoutsidethebarredgatesintothesanitariumread:

UNDERCONSTRUCTION

BYTHEIGAMETANESCORPORATIONNOTRESPASSING

AsfarasIknewthatsign

had been there since 1957when the original sanitariumwas shut down by the StateDepartment for unsafeconditions and suspectedabuse of patients. The IgamEtanes Corporation was thefrontusedbytheMagiSenateto hide magickind-ownedbusinessesandorganizations.

This wasn’t my first timecoming to the Rush, just the

first time Iwasmade to feellike a criminal myself. Thepolice officers escorted meinside in the same four-manblock formation they’d usedat the school. Iwas asked toturn out my pockets andsubmit to a pat down.Ironically, I was allowed tokeepBellanax.Noneof themhad a clue how powerful itwas.

We walked through thecathedral-like main room ofthestation,fullofdeskssetinhaphazard rows and anglesandpolicemen talkingon thephone, plunking away atcomputer keyboards, andeven a couple fielding in-person complaints. Mosteveryone stopped what theywere doing to observe ourmarch through the room and

down the hall on the left tothefirstinterrogationroom.

A queasy feeling struckmy stomach as I steppedinside. The place looked likeit had once been the sight ofan ax murder. Rust-coloredstains covered two of thewallslikesomekindofweirdimpressionistic art. A moldyceiling drooped low in thecenter,andthetiledfloorwas

cracked and flaking off inplaces.

“Sitdownanddon’ttouchanything,” one of thepolicemensaid.

“Like what?” Besides thetable and three chairs in thecenter of the room, the onlyother object was a cameraperched in one corner. Istudied it as I sat down,drawn by the way it was

moving side to side, as ifsome drunken operator wasmessingwith the controls onthe other end of the feed.Then I heard the faintelevatormusicplaying in thebackground and realized thecamera was swaying to thebeat, another victim of theanimationeffect.

The policemen shuffledoutoftheroombeforeIcould

ask how long Iwas going tobestuckhere.

The answer to thatquestion turned out to behours. Despite the commandnot to touch anything, I triedthe door only to find it waslocked. Glowering, I turnedand faced the camera. “It’s agoodthingIdon’thavetopeeoranything.”

Thecameradidn’treply.

Finally, an indeterminatetime later, the door openedand Lady Elaine steppedinside.

I stood up, my anxietyspurring me. “This is insaneaboutmymother.ShedidnotkillTitusKirkwood.”

“Insane or not,” LadyElaine said, “Moira is inserious trouble this time.Weneedtodoeverythingwecan

tohelpher, and that includesbeing careful with yourattitude.Understood?”

I swallowed, thoroughlyscolded,andnodded.Atleastshewas onMom’s side still.Thatwasgood.

Lady Elaine came aroundthe tableandsatdown in thechair next to mine, like shewas my social worker and Isomejuveniledelinquent.She

reached out and patted myshoulder. “We’ll get throughthis.Ipromise.”

Iglancedather,uncertain.“Ifyoudon’tthinkshedidit,then how come she’s beingcharged? You’re advisor totheConsul.Can’tyoujusttellthe Magi Senate she’sinnocentandgetheroff?”

“It’s not that easy, I’mafraid.”

“Whynot?”Lady Elaine exhaled, her

thin nostrils moving in andout. “Because I have noproof.”

I scowled, digging thepadsofmyfingertipsintothetabletop. “Since when doesthat matter amongmagickind?”

“Since—” She broke offasthedoorswungopen.

Detective Valentinestepped inside. “Hello again,Dusty.” Once more, he wascarrying a dark green foldertuckedbeneathhisarm.

Isatupfrommyslouchedposition, glaring. “I can’tbelieve you’re investigatingmymother.”

“Neither can I.” He shutthedoorbehindhim,andthensatdowndirectlyacrossfrom

me,placing the folderon thetable between us. Heacknowledged Lady Elainewithaslightbowofhishead,but otherwise his attentionremained focused on me.“And before you ask,” hecontinued. “I did not knowlast night that we would bearresting her today. Thatwould’ve been bad form nottogiveyouwarning.”

“Nokidding,”Isaid,butIwasn’t sure I believed him.That was an awfully quickturnaround. “So whathappened in the last fifteenhours to make you thinkmymom could do something soterribleascommitmurder?”

Valentine cocked aneyebrow, the gestureborderline mocking. “Youmeanso terribleasexecuting

the man who kidnapped heronly daughter, tortured her,andthenlefthertodie?”

My stomach gave a harddip, the sensation like goingover a hill too quickly in acar. Not only did they havesome kind of “evidence” asLady Elaine indicated, butthey also had motive. Apretty good one, I realized,mymind spinning. Titus had

indeed done those awfulthings to me. When he wasbeing murdered, I was in acoma, the doctors, healers,andeveryoneelseuncertainifIwouldeverrecoverfromtheinjuries I’d sustainedpreventing the island fromsinking.

All at once, I was thereagain, racing acrossLyonshold, fire and debris

rainingdownaroundmefromthe burning fissure ahead, adeep hole rent through theisland by a spell designed tosink it.WithBellanax inmyhand, with Bellanax incontrol, I’d jumped headfirstintothelastofthosefissures,my body falling into theflames.Bellanaxhadkeptmefrom being burned alive, butitcouldn’tprotectmefromall

themagic around us that thesword was absorbing intoitself to keep the spell fromreaching completion. It wasso much magic it should’vekilledme.Italmostdid.Mom must’ve thought it

had, I realized, picturing iteasily.Mymother,sostrong,and fierce, and stubborn. Iknew shewould do anythingto keep me safe, but would

she also go to any length toavengemydeath?

I pushed the thoughtaway, afraid the answerwould bite me like apoisonoussnake.

Staring over at Valentine,I hardened my resolve. “Mymotherisinnocent.”

Valentine pursed his lips.“You are entitled to youropinion.Butithasnobearing

onwhyyouarehere.Isimplywant to review the eventsleading up to the attack onLyonshold.” He idlydrummed his fingers againstthe table. “Given the traumayou sustained, you werenever asked to provide anofficial statement. It was anunderstandable oversight, butitnowmustbecorrected.”

“What about Eli and

Selene?Theywerethere,too.SowasPaulKirkwood.”

“Yes, I know.” Valentineopenedthefolder,revealingastack of papers inside. Thetop one bore the title TheLyonsholdIncident.Apictureof the island, post attack,filledmostof it.“Wewillbespeaking to all of them, intime. But your statement isthe most relevant. Now, if

you’d like to start at thebeginning, when you firstrealized that Titus Kirkwoodwasplanningtheattack.”

I shook my head. “Nodeal. First I want to knowwhy you think my momkilledhim.ThenI’lltalk.”

Beside me, Lady Elainemade a noise. It might’vebeen shock, but it soundedmore like amusement. Or

perhaps encouragement.Either way, I kept my gazefocusedonValentine.AroundmywristBellanaxheatedintolife.

“Excuse me?” Valentinesat up straighter. “Are yousaying I have to bargain foryourstatement?”

“Yep.Either tellmewhatIwanttoknoworIpleadthefifth.”

Valentine cleared histhroat. “We are magickind.Thereisnofifth.”

I tapped my foot on thefloor. The sharp rap of mybootagainstthetilewould’vebeen a lot more effective ifnot for the rhythmic creak,creak, creak of the camerastill swaying along to thesong.

“All right,” I said, unable

totakethesilenceanylonger.“If you don’t tell me what Iwant to know, then you’regoing to have to forceme totalk.” With magic at theirbeckandcall,theycoulddoiteasily,butIhadafeelingthatValentinewouldwanttokeepthings smooth, especiallysinceIwasaminor.Atleast,Iwashopinghedid.

With perfect seriousness,

LadyElainesaid,“Iwouldbecarefulhere,Detective.SheisMoira’sdaughter,afterall.”

“So I’m gathering.”Valentine rubbed his thumbover his bottom lip. “Verywell. I don’t see how a littleinformation will cause anyharm.”Youdon’tknowtheDream

Team, buddy. Sometimesbeingunderestimatedwasthe

mostpowerfulweaponofall.“There are three reasons

whyIamcertainyourmotheris guilty,” Valentinecontinued. “Number one, shehad means and motive tocommit the crime. Themotive, as I already madeclear, was you. For means,we need to look no furtherthan the fact that she is aNightmare.”

I bit my lower lip, myheartbeat quickening. For asecond, I thought he wasreferring to the one way ofkilling only a Nightmarecould do—draining a personof all the fictus theypossessed.Only, fromwhat Iunderstood,thisdidn’tkilltheperson in a traditional sense,butleftthemsoulless,neitherlivingnordead,just…done.

Butthatcouldn’tbewhathadhappenedtoTitus.Iwould’veheardaboutitbeforenow.

Carefully,Isaid,“Howdoyoumean?”

“The prison cell TitusKirkwood was being held inwas a magically restrictedward. All magic is blockedusing a spell very similar toThe Will.” Valentine pausedfor effect. “And as I know

youareaware,TheWillspellwas completely foolproofagainst all magical beingsexceptfor—”

“Nightmares,” I finishedfor him. It was true, andmymother had loads ofexperience working magicinside such barriers. Ourmagic was fueled by fictus,theverystuffof imagination,and imaginationcouldnotbe

controlledorpredictedbyanyforce, even a magical one.Acidbegantoburnitswayupmythroat,andIswalloweditdown. “My mother isn’t theonlyNightmareinexistence.”

“True, but of all theknown Nightmares in thearea,sheistheonlyonewithnoalibi.”

I frowned at the way hesaid“allof theknown,”as if

therewerelotsofNightmaresrunningaroundourlittletownof Chickery, Ohio. But thatjust wasn’t true. There wereonly three—me, my mother,andBethanyGrey.Ihadbeenin a coma, and Bethany waslocked up in a prison cellright here at theRush. She’dbeenhereformonthspriortotheattackonLyonshold.Shewas a known Marrow

supporter, serving out hertime for crimes committedaidingMarrowinhisquesttobreakTheWill spell. Inbothour cases, therewas no needfor Valentine to confirm analibi. Sowhowas he talkingabout? I started to ask him,but he didn’t give me achance.

“However,” Valentinesaid,thecondescensioninhis

voice whisper-light, butunmistakably present, “Isuppose it’s possible thatsome unknown Nightmarecameinfromoutoftownjustfor the sole purpose ofbreaking into the magicallysecured facility andmurderingTitusKirkwood.”

I bit down hard on mytongue, fighting back anangry reply. My insides

begantoseethe,andBellanaxwassohotaroundmywristIthoughtmyskinmight scald.ButI’dcaughtthewarninginLadyElaine’squickglance.Ineeded todowhat I could tohelp my mother, and rightnow, that meant informationand not losing my temper. Ihad to learn everything Icould. The Dream Teamwould need it for our own

investigation. Finding theman who freed Marrow wasimportant, no doubt, butfreeing mymother was evenmoreso.

With applause-worthycivility, Isaid,“Whatare theother two reasons you thinkmymotherisguilty?”

IfValentinewassurprisedby my self-control, hisexpressiondidn’tshowit.He

continued on, not missing abeat. “We found DNAevidence linkingyourmothertothecrimescene.”

Iblinked,aweirdsenseofdéjà vu coming over me. Ormore like temporaldisplacement. I felt as if I’dbeen transported from themagickind police station intoa TV police procedural.Words like “DNA evidence”

didn’t belong herewhere theemphasis was always on themagical.

Valentine tilted his head.“You do know what I meanbyDNAevidence,yes?”

Myshocksnappedbacktoanger, and I placedmy handover the silver band on mywrist and began to twist it.“Of course I do. But sincewhen does magickind do

thingstheordinarywaywhenitcomestopolicework?”

“Actually, magickind hasbeen mimicking ordinaryprocedures for years,” saidValentine with a flash ofteeth.“It’sjustweveryrarelyfindanyat our crime scenes.Most of our bad guys killpeople in ways that do notleave physical evidencebehind.”

“They kill with magic,” Imurmured,thinkingaloud.Ashorribleasitsounded,Iknewthat was how my motherwould kill, too. Of course,she would. She was a longway from stupid. A littlereckless from time to time,but not stupid.And sneakinginto the magickind policestationtokillaprisoner?Thatwould’ve taken planning and

caution,notsomerashinandout where she left behind abunch of hair andfingerprints, or whatever itwas they’d supposedlycollected.

Itappedmythumbagainstthe table. “Are you sure youeven did it right? Imean, nooffense,butmagickindaren’texactly awesome at ordinaryscience.”

Valentine snorted. “Noargument about that. Oh,don’t look so surprised.Regardlessofwhatyoumightthink,I’mnotouttogetyourmother.”You sure about that? He

couldbeaMarrowsupporter.Therewasnowaytotell.

“I just want to see theguilty brought to justice.”Valentine shrugged. “That

said, the evidencewas testedandverifiedbytheFBIlabinCleveland. I have a friend inthe agency I often call uponforhelpinthesematters.”

He sounded soconvincing,soverymuchlikethestoicleadactorofapoliceprocedural that at first Ibelieved him completely—the news crashing down onme like a landslide. But

somethingdidn’tfit.I sat up straighter. “Why

would an FBI lab have mymom’s DNA on file for youto get a match to what youfound in Titus’s cell? She’snever once been in troublewith the ordinary law.” Istartedtosmile,certainIhadhimthere.

Valentine sighed,his lookone of pity, like I was some

dumbkid,achildplayingatagrown-up. “Because I sentthemasampleofherDNAtocompareitto.”

“Why would—” I brokeoff, thetruthsmackingmeinthe face. A haze seemed tosmeartheedgesofmyvision.“Oh, I see. You alreadythoughtshewasguiltyandsoyou preemptively had themdoananalysisonhers.”

Valentinenodded,his lipspressed together in a gestureofregret.

I wasn’t buying it. Thisguyhadsuspectedmymotherallalong, including lastnightwhenhe stopped by to enlistmy help in finding theDeath’s Heart. And why didhe suspect her? Because shewas a Nightmare. I sat backinmychair,foldingmyarms

over my chest. I feltBellanax’s heat through myshirt where the silver bandpressedagainstmyside.

Taking a deep breath, Isaid, “There’s no way that’sadmissible. It’s got to beracialprofilingorentrapmentor something. I don’t knowforsure,butI’mgoingtofindout.”

This time it was Lady

Elaine who sighed, feelingsorry for me—although atleast hers was genuine.“That’s not how themagickind justice systemworks, Dusty. We havealways relied on ‘racialprofiling’asyoucallit.Withthekinds asdifferent as theyare,it’saneffectivetool.”

I gritted my teeth—I hadto remember she was onmy

side in this.“Okay, Iget thatit can be a good tool forfinding the guilty, but itshouldn’t be the only tool.Maybe there’s some otherreasonwhymymom’sDNAwas there. And maybebecause you’ve alreadydecided she’s guilty, you’reoverlooking the otherpossibilities.”

“Like what?” Valentine

said, and I could tell by theglint in his eye that he wasjusthumoringme.

“Idon’tknow,but Ican’tbelievethatonlyaNightmarecould’vepulleditoff.Iknowwe’re awesome and all, butthere has to be othermagickind out there capableof getting into that ward tokillhim.”Not that Iknewofany. But the Dream Team

would figure it out. I justneeded to get my hands onthe case file. I glanced downat the folder still lying openonthedesk.

Valentine tented hisfingers below his chin.“Perhaps you might be rightaboutotherways,butthereisthe third reason left toconsider.”

I exhaled, steelingmyself

for the next blow. “What isit?”

“I have witnessed yourmother’s guilt on thatmatter.”

“She confessed?” Icouldn’t believe it. It wasn’tpossible. Even if my motherwas guilty, she would neverjust admit to it. Not unlesssheknewshecouldgetawaywithit.

“Not exactly,” Valentinesaid. “When I say I’vewitnessed her guilt, I meanthatIhavefeltit,fedonit, ifyoulikethatwordbetter.Andby fed, I mean in the sameway that you feed on EliBooker.”

Theroomspunaroundmeagain. “What are you talkingabout?”

“Detective Valentine,”

Lady Elaine said, her voiceworking like a lighthousebeacon, giving my capsizedbrainatargettofocuson,“isa Crimen demon. A guiltdemon.”

“Correct.” A prim littlesmile came and went onValentine’s face. “My kindfeeds on guilt. When Ibroughtyourmotherintogether alibi for the night Titus

died, her guilt wasundeniable.”According toyouandyou

only.Myhandsclenchedintofists. I wanted to hitsomething. It was so unfair,somuch room for deception.“Howdoyouknowherguiltis related to themurder?Shecouldbefeelingguiltyforallsorts of reasons. It doesn’tmean crap without a

confession.”“That might be true if it

weren’t for everything elseagainsther.”Valentinewavedahandthroughtheair.“Butitdoesn’t matter. It’s in thecourt’shandsnow.”

I sucked in a breath, ahelpless feeling coming overme.Butno,itwasn’thopeless—I just had to find out whoreally killed Titus. Clinging

tothisgoal,Isaid,“Iwanttotalktomymom.”

“I’m afraid that’simpossible at the moment.”Valentinesaid.“ButI’msurewe can arrange it in a fewdays.”

“How badly hurt is she?”The image of how I’d seenher last flashed through mymind.

“She’s fine,” Lady Elaine

said. “She’s just under asleepingspellfornow.”

Igaped.“Why?”Valentine offered me a

diplomatic smile. “It’s just aprecautionuntilwecangetacell constructed to hold her.It’s not easy to contain aNightmare, since the normalanti-magic spells are soineffective.”

Iwould’vebeenreassured

bythedifficultyifthethoughtof my mother lyingunconscious somewherenearby wasn’t so upsetting.“What do you meanconstruct? You’ve gotBethany Grey heresomewhere, don’t you?Whycan’t she just go in the samekindofcell?”

The two adults in a roomexchangedalook,andIcould

almost hear the silentquestion pass between them—should you tell her orshouldI?

In the end, Lady Elainelost the coin toss. “The cellwe were using to holdBethany Grey has been …dismantled.Recently.”

“Dismantled? Thenwhereare you keeping Bethanynow?”

Valentine let out anexaggerated sigh. “This isn’tcommon knowledge yet, andas such it falls under thenondisclosure agreement yousigned.ButBethanyGreyhasbeenabducted.”

“She’s gone?” Nobodyimportant,Ithought,recallingSheriff Brackenberry’swords. I could see hisreasoning for saying it now,

given Bethany Grey was acriminal. Only … “How doyou know she didn’t justescape? There are stillMarrow supporters outthere.”

“I had a vision of herkidnapping,” Lady Elainesaid, her expression somber.“Butnotintimetostopit.”

As horrible as thiswas tohear, a new idea occurred to

me, one that sent hopeballooning up inside mychest. “Wait a second. WasBethany Grey being held inthe samemagically restrictedwardasTitusKirkwood?”

Valentinenodded.Inearlyjumpedtomyfeet

in excitement. “Then thatproves someone else besidesmymother has the ability tobreakintothatward!”

Blank stares greeted mydeclaration, from bothValentineandLadyElaine.

“What?” I said,exasperated. “It’s soobvious.”

“No, Dusty,” Valentinesaid,offeringmeasadshakeof his head. “It’s not.Bethany’s disappearance, theDeath’s Heart. It’s allhappened since you returned

from your trip. Your mothercould’veeasilydoneit.Rightnow she’s our biggestsuspect.”

I laughed, feeling on thevergeofhysteria. “Wow,mymom’s a criminalmastermind, isn’t she? Imean, why not blameeverythingonher.Maybesheevenstoleatimemachineandwent back to the sixties just

tokillKennedy.”“Is it really so hard to

believe?” Valentine said, histone annoyingly reasonable.“Bethany and Moira share along and well-documentedhistoryofmutualanimosity.”

Ipressedmylipstogether,wishing I could deny it. ButBethany and Moira did hateeachother.Bethanyhadeventriedtokillher.

Still, I refused to acceptanything until I had moreproof. “I know she didn’t doanyofthis.”

“The judge and jury willdetermine that,” saidValentine.

Swallowing, I asked,“Whenisthetrial?”

“It’ssettostartattheendof October,” Lady Elainesaid.

Blood rushed in my ears.“Whatifshe’sfoundguilty?”

“We really shouldn’tspeculate—” Lady Elainebegan.

Valentine cut her off. “Iffound guilty, she will mostcertainlybeexecuted.”

Iswayedonmychair, theimage of my dead body inEli’sdreamswimming inmymind.Dreams are symbolic,

Eli had said. Except for ourhair,mymotherandIlookedalike.Symbolic.

I closed my eyes andprayed the dream was lying.Justthistime.

8

ItBites

Therestoftheinterviewwent

quickly, painlessly, for themost part. True to the dealwe’d made, I told Valentineeverything I could rememberaboutTitusKirkwoodandtheattack on Lyonshold—including my absolutecertainty thatmymother hadno ideawhatwe’d foundoutuntilafter itallwentdown. Ihadn’t spoken toheratall inthe days before Titus

Kirkwood abducted me, Eli,Selene,andPaul.

But I also had to admitthatsincearrivingbackintheStates nearly a week ago, Ihadn’t had any contact withmy mom until today. Shecould’vebeenuptoanything.Thedaywegothome,Iwentto stay with my dad for theremainder of summer breakforsomemuchneededfather-

daughter time. Up untildiscovering I was aNightmare, I’d livedexclusivelywithmyordinaryfather, a college professor atthelocaluniversity.

In other words, I wasn’tabletodoathingtohelpmymother.

It was nearly midnightwhen I arrived back atcampus. Unfortunately, with

my Will Guard escort, Iwasn’t able to retrieve theflash drive from theflowerpot. It would have towaituntilthemorning.Butatleast Lady Elaine had madesure I could skip classestomorrow,aday tomournasitwere.

The moment the bell forfirstperiodrangthefollowingmorning,Ileftmydormroom

and headed back to theparking lot. To my dismay,the flash drive wascompletely soaked andcoveredindirt. Ihadnoideaifitwouldworkornot.Isetiton my desk to dry when Ireturned to my dorm roomand thenspent therestof thedaybrowsingtheInternetandwatchingmovies.

Selene brought me back

foodfromthecafeteriaduringlunchandthenlateratdinner.I was grateful to avoid thecrowds. The rumors wereflyinghigh.

“How bad is it?” I askedheraswesatdowntoenjoyacoupleofunicorn skewersofshrimp,chicken,andveggies.

“Boringreally.”Shemadea face. “People have noimagination.Imean,ifIwere

going to start a rumor aboutyourmother,itwouldbethatshe’sagovernmentspybeingframed forTitus’smurder sothat the real criminal can goabout his business withoutworrying that her badass,super-self will arrive just intimetofoilhisplans.”Selenepaused, raising a hand to herchin.“Butwait,that’smostlytrue,isn’tit?”

I smiled appreciatively,but couldn’t muster the willtolaugh.

Selenesighed.“Ifitmakesyoufeelanybetter,notalltherumors are about yourmother. There’s one goingaround that Lance’s fatherhas disinherited him becausehe committed the horriblecrimeofdatingasiren.”

I risked a look at her,

wordsescapingme.“Yep, he’s going to be

forcedoutofschoolnowanyday.”

Mymouthfellopen.“Areyouserious?”

“No,”Selenesaid,aweaksmile cresting her lips.“That’s just the rumor.Although it is true that hisdad hates me. If he’s notcareful he just might get

disinherited.”“I’msorry,”Isaid.She shrugged, tossing her

long black braid over hershoulder. “It’s all right.Maybe there’ll be somethingnew for them to make uprumorsabouttomorrow.”

It was a nice idea, butwishful thinking. WhenSelene and Iwalked into thecafeteria the next morning, I

noticedadefinite shift in thenoise level.Theconversationdidn’t stop, just changed inpitch, a suddenuptick.Therewere head turns, pointing,tapsonshoulders.Itmight’vebeen my imagination, but Ididn’t think so. It wasn’t thefirst time I’d been throughsomething like this. It wasjust the first time the rumorswere about my mother

instead of me. For somereason, that bothered memore.

“Just ignore it,” Selenesaid.Sheswepttheroomwitha hawk-like stare, one fierceenough to make onlookersrecoil.Suchwasthepowerofa siren. For a second, Iimagined her unfurling herhidden wings, taking flight,and then dive-bombing the

crowd until they were allprostrate on the ground, tooscared to speak a word. Shewould do it, too, if thesituation called for it. Myaffection for her swelled upinside me, and I resisted theurgetogiveheramushyhug.

Eli and Lance weren’tthereyet,sowewentthroughthe line at the Pizza Tut,orderingacoupleofbreakfast

pizzas big enough to sharewith the boys—roughly halfthe size of a table. Idesperately scanned the foodvendors for signs of acaffeinated beverage. After afitful night’s sleep, Iwould’vesettledfor it inanyform, but the hope I’dharbored that caffeine wouldbe an upperclassmen perksoon died. Like sugar and

nearlyeverythingelseworthyof compulsive consumption,caffeine was a controlledsubstanceatArkwell.

Theboysarrivednot longafterwesatdown.Eligreetedme with a pick-me-up hughard enough to squeeze allthe air from my chest. “Imissed you yesterday,” hesaid, thenhekissedme,bothofusignoringtheWillGuard

alreadyclosingin.“Hey, back off, man,”

Lance said as the Guardreached us. “They’re nothurtinganything.”

Elisetmeonmyfeet,andwe pulled apart. I expectedthe Will Guard to give us areprimand, but it was thesame one from Monday. Hemurmured a halfheartedwarning and then walked

awayagain.“Thanks,Lance,”Isaid,a

littlestunned.“We’ll call it four to

three,” Lance replied,referring to our ongoingprank competition we’d hadmostoflastyear.Hewinked.“Or you could just concedethatIwinforever.”

“Last I checked, hell isstillprettyhot.”

We all sat down to eat,and I filled them in onmostof what happened in myinterviewwithValentine.Allexcept for the stuff aboutBethany. The second I triedto tell them she’d gonemissing, my tongue sealeditselftotheroofofmymouth.

Elicluckedannoyanceandran his hand over my back.“Don’t fight it. Just think

about something else.” Thenhe turned to Selene andLance. “Dusty and I have tobecarefulaboutwhatwetalkabout. We signed anondisclosure agreement afew days ago for our latestdream-seertask.”

Selene huffed. “That’sgoingtomakethingshardfortherestofus.”

I nodded, still unable to

speak.“We’ll figure a way

around it,” Eli said. “Wecan’tletitstopus.”

By the time thenondisclosure spell gave meback control of my mouthagain, breakfast was over. Isighed, dreading the rest ofthe day without Eli. But atleastwehadadreamsessiontonight.

Only, Iwasdreading that,too, and not just because ofBollinger.

“I’ll spend some timecomingupwith a strategyofhow we should start ourinvestigation,”Elisaidas thefourofusexitedthecafeteria.“Shouldwemeetafterschooltoreallydigintoit?”

“What about yourgladiator practice?” I asked.

“Isn’titeverynight?”Eli smiled down at me.

“Your mom is way moreimportant.”

A flush heatedmy skin. Istudied his gaze and saw hetruly meant it, his cool blueeyes unwavering. Onlymaking the team meant somuch to him. “Thanks, but Idon’twantyoutoskipit.”

He cocked his head.

“What?Why?”I squeezed his fingers,

interwoven with my own.“Because it’s important toyou, and I know you’ll stillmanage to help. Besides, thetrial’s weeks away. We’vegotalittletime.”

Eli rubbed his chin.“Tryoutsarecomingupsoon,butareyoureallysure?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice

firm. “We should all justbrainstorm about it as muchaspossible sowe’re ready togettoworkwhenwemeetupagain.”

Everyone agreed to thisplanandwemadeourwaytohomeroom.

Itcameandwentquickly,the announcements typicallylong as they always were atthe beginning of the school

year.When thebell rang,Eliand I shuffled out into thehallway to head to ourseparate classes. SpottinganotherWillGuardnearby, Istifled a groan ofdisappointment. It seemedwe’dnevercatchabreak.

IturnedtosayasmuchtoEli, but to my surprise, hepulled me against his chestand bent his head toward

mine. The kiss was deeperthan the last, our mouthsopened, tongues touching.Even though it lasted only asecondbeforetheWillGuardvultureorderedusapart,Ifeltthe longing in his kiss, theunspokenwishformoretimespentdoingthis.

Ignoring the Will Guardshouting at us, Eli fixed agaze on me that was more

promise than look.We’ll findtimetogethersoon.

I nodded,mywhole bodytingling from the inside out.Thankgoodness I haveEli, Ithought as I headed to class.Together we could doanything.

Although I was a daybehind, I spent most ofhistory and English thinkingabout how to savemymom.

The only way, short ofbreakingherout,was to findthe real killer. We reallyneededthosepolicefiles.Butgetting them would requirebreaking into the Rush, aplace both physically andmagicallyguardedaroundtheclock. As it was, I doubtedwe’d even be able to breakout of school, what with theWillGuardpatrollingcampus

allthetime.Unless we can break into

thecomputersystem.Itwasagood idea, but problematic.The only person I knewcapableofpullingoff ahacklike thatwasPaulKirkwood.Forthefirsttimeinmonths,Iwas sorry he wasn’t around.It seemed it was time I readallthoseunopenede-mails.Later, I decided, catching

asternlookfromMr.Corvus.Whenfirstperiodended,I

tried to scan some of Paul’se-mails on the way tobiology, but it provedimpossible to readat the fastpacewewerewalking to getthere on time.Andwhenwearrived Ms. Miller kept usbusy. Today she had usworking with a pack ofazbans,raccoon-likecreatures

with a reputation for beingthe most clever andmischievous of all magicalanimals.

“They have a wickedsense of humor,” Ms. Millerwarned.Morelikemean,Idecided

when ten minutes into theclass one of them bit myfinger.

“Are you all right,

Dusty?” Selene said, spyingthe blood. “Ms. Miller, weneedhelp.”

“I’m fine,” I said, painripplingupmyhand intomyarm. I glared at the azban,whichwasstaringatmewithwide, watery eyes, its littlehandscoveringitsmouthlikeitwaseithershockedbywhatithaddone—orwaslaughingaboutit.

Myvotewasonthelatter.“Let me see,” Ms. Miller

said.I held out my hand. She

examined it a moment,pronounced it a fleshwound,andofferedmeastripofdirtyrag.

“Just wrap that around it.You’llbefine.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said,staringdownatmymutilated

finger.“Karma,” someone

whisperedfrombehindme.“Even azbans don’t like

Nightmares,”camethereply.I resisted theurge to look

around.Findingoutwhohadsaid it wasn’t going tomakemefeelanybetter.

By the time we got toordinary living, my fingerwashurting toobadlyforme

toholdapencil.IconsideredaskingMrs.Barforapass tovisit the infirmary, butdecided to tough it out.Psionics was up next and Ididn’twanttomissit.

Then again, maybeskippingwould’vebeenbest.Katarinaturnedtostareatmethemoment Iwalked in.Sheleaned towardherbest friendCarla Petermeier, whispering

behindherhand.Just ignore them, I

thought, reaching for thesilverbandonmywrist.Theextra contact with Bellanaxseemed to lessen the pain inmy finger, if only by adegree.

AfewmomentsafterIsatdown, Mr. Deverellapproached my desk. “Areyou doing all right, Dusty?”

He peered down at me, hisexpression one of openconcern.

Igulped, suddenly feelingemotionally fragile. I’d beendoing okay all day—rumorseasier to deal with thansympathy. “I’m fine.Thanks.”

Deverell nodded. “Letmeknow if you’d rather notparticipate in today’s

activities. It could bechallenging.”

“Ilikeagoodchallenge.”“Iknowyoudo.”Asmile

slid across his face,disappearing a second later.“I’m so sorry to hear aboutyour mother. Please let meknowifthere’sanythingIcando.”

“Thanks,” I said, tight-lipped as I fought back that

fragility once again. It waslike trying to hold acrumbling wall in place. Hemade it soundas ifmymomhad died instead of beenarrested and charged withmurder.

“Today,” Deverell said tothe class at large a fewminutes later, “wewill beginour study of psychometry.Doesanyoneknowwhat that

is?”Several hands went up in

theair.“Yes, Katarina,” Mr.

Deverellsaid.“Psychometry is the

ability to read the history ofanobjectbytouchingit.”

“Very good.” Deverellbestowed an appraisingglanceonher.“Now,thisisavery difficult skill as it

requires the mind and thebody to work as one. But asalways, the more open andsupple your mind is, thebetter you will do. So let’sstart with some focusingexercises and then we willattempt to read someobjects.”

Deepeningmybreathing,Iclosedmyeyesandattemptedto perform the first exercise

—mind-cleaning, as it wascalled.Ipicturedalargeroomcluttered with objects, visualrepresentations of all mythoughts. I imagined myselfcleaning out the room,removing the clutter one byone. The goal was to maketheroomemptyandopen,aninviting place for the mind-magictodwell.

After several minutes of

trying, I failed to remove somuch as a cobweb. Worryaboutmymomkeptpressingin. The image of my deadbodyinEli’sdreamhadbeenreplacedwithhers.Icouldn’tshakeit.

Giving up, I opened myeyes, inwardly cursing. Isupposed if Deverell calledonmeIwouldtakehimupontheoffertopass.

At the front of the room,Deverell was levitatingobjectsfromoutofthenearbyutility closet and placingthem on the long table setbeside his desk. I spotted arusted hammer, a skull, awrench, a knife. I halfexpected Miss Scarlett andColonel Mustard to appearnext.

Soon, everyone else had

given up on the warm-upexercises as well, all of ourattentionfocusedonDeverell.

“Okay,” he said, claspinghis hands. “The objects yousee before you have verylong,verypowerfulhistories.They are also very ‘loud’ aswecallitinthebusiness.Andby that I mean they arebroadcasting a good deal oftheir histories easily enough

forevenbeginnerstodetect.”Katarinaraisedherhand.“Yes, Miss Marcel,”

Deverell said, motioning ather.

“Why do they broadcastsoclearly,sir?”

Deverell beamed, and itseemed I heard all thefemales in the room give acollective sigh—myselfincluded. “There are two

factors thatprimarilycausearegular object to both retainand broadcast a history. Thefirst is emotional impact.Allmind-magic,beittelepathyorempathy or anything else,comes from living, sentientbeings.Inanimateobjectswillsometimes absorb theemotions of the humans andmagickinds that live nearthem. Objects that have

witnessed tragedyor extremejoy are more likely to retainthe psychic energy of thathistory. It makes animpressiononthem.

“The second factor is thedurationofexposure.Objectsthat have been ownedby thesamepersonoreventhesamefamily are more likely toretainhistory.Makesense?”

I nodded along with the

rest of the class. It soundedsimilar to the animationeffect,onlywheremagicandelectromagnetic fields werereplaced with emotions andexposure.

“Now, whowould like tovolunteer to go first?”Deverellsaid.

Onceagain, severalhandswentintheair.

“DeannaAckles,”hesaid,

waving to the dark-haired,dark-eyed girl sitting at theback of the classroom.Deanna was demonkind,although Iwasn’t surewhichtype.

“Youcanselectanyoftheobjects you wish,” Mr.Deverell explained as shearrived at the front of theclassroom. “Then all youhave to do is place your

hands on it, close your eyes,andopenyourmind to it thesame as you would during atelepathyexercise.”

After a few secondscontemplation, Deannaselected an antique compass.Shepickeditup,holdingitinone hand and cupping it inthe other. She closed hereyes. Several seconds passedwith the rest of uswatching,

silently.Deanna scrunched up her

nose in concentration. “IthinkIsee…a…a…pirateship.”

Several people laughed atthis—Deanna had areputationofbeingawiseass—butashereyesslidopened,Icouldtellshewasn’t jokingthistime.

Mr.Deverellsaid,“Thatis

very close to true, Deanna.Good job.” He took thecompassoutofherhandandhelditupfortherestofustosee.“Thisbelongedtooneofthe sailors of the unfortunateMaryCeleste.”

A murmur of surprisewent through the classroom.Onanormalday, Iwould’vebeenutterlycaptivatedbytheideaof theghost ship,butas

it was, my head wasbeginningtoache,thelackofsleep catching up with me.Even worse was the steadythrob inmywounded finger.It was starting to make mesicktomystomach.

“Does the compass showwhat happened to thesailors?”Deannaasked.

A devilish expressioncrossed Deverell’s face. “It

just might. We will have tosee.”Hesetthecompassbackon the table then called onKatarinanext.

She did her catwalk thingallthewaytothefrontoftheclassroom, casting her sultrygaze here and there. Inseconds, she held everyonecaptive with her sirenbedazzlement. For the firsttime in perhaps ever, I was

grateful for thedistraction. Ithelpedmeforget thethrobinmy finger and the pound inmyhead.

Katarina examined theobjects, contemplating theskull before turning towardthe knife.A smirk came andwentonher face.Shepickeditupandclosedhereyes.Theclass watched with acollective held breath, all of

usenchanted.“I think,” Katarina said,

her lips curling. “I think …that thiswas used in a… ina … murder.” Her eyes slidopen for a moment, longenough to recapture anyonewho’dmanagedtobreakfreeof her mesmerizing power.Even with the throb in myfinger, I could tell she wasdeliberately using her siren

magic.Dreadbegan to thruminside me, building low,somewheredeep.Murder shehadsaid.

Katarina squeezed hereyes closed again, and nowan alarmed look crossed herface—the beautiful horror-flick damsel in distress whojust discovered the psychokillerisinthehouse.Likeallsirens, she was quite the

actress.“Yes, a murder. Someone

important. A politician, Ithink. And the person whodid it was a … was a … awoman.” Katarina’s eyescame open once more, andagain that smirk ghosted herface. Around me, I heardseveral snickers, some of theothers catching the jokebeforeIdid.

Thecruel,awfuljoke.Throb, throb, throb. My

anger coiled insideme like asnake.

“Yes,” Katarina said, hersnide smile directed at me.“This knife was used tocommit murder by aNightmare.”

My anger, coiled onemoment, exploded into ragein thenext.And itwasmore

than emotion. It became aforce. It became power.Magic.

I lurched to my feet, myhand reaching for Bellanax.At the same time, I felt thesword reaching for me,calling me to it, compellingme.“Luo-dikho!”Ihissed,the

spell foreign on my lips andyetfamiliar,too.

I’dnevercastitbefore.I’d cast it a thousand

times.The knife in Katarina’s

hand exploded, the steelspraying outward likeshrapnel. Pieces of it struckKatarina in the face, and shescreamed.

I started to disengage theglamour on Bellanax, thesword’s eagerness to be

unleashed like gasolinepoured onto the fire of myoutrage.

Somewhere nearby, avoice shouted, “Hupno-drasi!”

I only had time to seeDeverellraisehishandinmydirection. Then the spellstruckme, and Iwent under,asleepbeforemybodyhittheground.

9

Motives

I dreamed I was back in the

catacombs of Paris.Walls ofbone surrounded me on allsides. Skulls stacked inuniformcolumnsstareddownat me with black-holed eyesandrictusgrinsformedbythefemur bones set in rowsbeneath them. I turned in acircle, my gaze fixed on thewalls, my heart racing withthe sudden certainty that Iwasn’talone.

“Dusty!”I froze. It was my

mother’svoice,asfamiliar tomeasmyown.

“Dusty!”I raced toward the sound

coming from somewhereahead in this labyrinthinepalace of the dead. I turnedleftthenrightthenleftagain,chasing it. “Dusty, Dusty,Dusty,” she called, her voice

strainedandgrowingweaker,evenasIdrewnear.

I rounded a corner into acircular room. More bonesfilledtheplace,buttheywerestacked pell-mell, the deadnothing more than forgotten,inconsequential things. Thedark narrow mouth of a pitleered from the center of theroom.

My mother’s voice rose

out from it like a prayer.“Dusty.”

“Mom!”Ifelltomykneesat the edge of the pit andleaned over, staring downintoit.Itwasnowiderthanawell,andmymotherstoodatthe bottom of it, her faceturnedup,her eyeswide andterrified,redfromcrying.

“Dusty!” She raisedbruise-painted arms toward

me,hernailssplitandbloodyfrom where she had tried toclawherwayupandout.Thewalls of the pit were linedwith more bones, thin andslippery, offering nopurchase. “Help me, Dusty,”she screamed. “I can’t getout.Ican’tgetout.”

“Mom!” I reached towardher, on my belly now. Shestarted to climb again, her

fingers closing over bones,the veins in her hands andforearms popping out. Sherose an inch closer.But thenthe bones inside the wellbegan to crumble. Soon anavalancheofthemwasfallingdown on her. She struggled,tryingtogetatopofthem,butitwasnouse.Theboneswereheavyandtoomany.

I screamed, stretching

down toward the pit, but Icouldn’t get to her. Inseconds she was gone, hercries silenced by the weightofthedead.Sobbing,Istartedtopullbackfromthepit,butsomething shoved me frombehindandItumbledforwardinto it. There shouldn’t havebeen room, not with mymother buried beneath allthose bones. But this was a

dream, and it accommodatedmyfear, thepitexpanding.Ithad always been so deep, socapable of holding us both. Ihit thebottom,an impossibledistance down. Bleeding andcrying, I shuffled into asitting position, the walledbones scraping against myarms. I struggled to my feetandlookedupattheopening.

“Help!” I screamed, but I

knew it was no good. Therewasnoonetohearit.

Panting now, I grasped atthe bones in the wall, tryingto find a grip. My fingersached as I pulled myself up.A face appeared over theedgeofthepit.

“Eli!” I shouted, and lostpurchase, sliding the meagerinches I’dmanaged toclimb.“Helpme,Eli!”

He shook his head, hisexpression inexorably sad,desolateeven,likethescarredground left behind from aforestrazedtomakeroomforaparkinglot.

“Please, Eli,” I said, nolongerscreamingbutbeggingnow. I didn’t understand thatlookonhisface.Ididn’twantittobethere.

He just shook his head

again,andthenhestood,andI saw a shovel in his hands.Heturnedawayforamomentonly to swing back, theshovel now full of discardedbones.Heflungthemintothepit. They struck me in theface and head and arms, ahundreddullhurts.

In seconds there were athousand of them, anavalancheofbonescomingto

swallow me as it had mymother. I screamed andscreamed until the bonespressed so tight against mychest I could no longer fillmy lungs with air. And thenthe bones reached my neckand head. Darkness coveredme,andIscreamednomore.

***

I woke with my heart

pounding, the nightmareemotions chasing me intoconsciousness. I lookedaround,tryingtowillthefearaway. I was awake now. Itwas just a dream. Eli didn’tjust try to kill me.Mymomwasn’tdead.Yet.I focused on my

surroundings, surprised tofind myself not in my own

bed but in Arkwell’sinfirmary.

Islowlysatupandpeeredaround,my head feeling likesomeonehadtakenahammertoit,repeatedly.Fragmentsofthe bone dream flittedthroughmybrain,and I triedtoignorethem.

I jumpedwhen I saw twopeople sitting in the chairsacross from the hospital bed.

Neither was whom I wantedto see at the moment. Iwantedmymom,butshewasincarcerated. My throatconstricted,tearsthreatening.

“Hello again, Dusty,”Lady Elaine said, the smileshe offered looking tired andreluctant. The feeling wasmutual. I liked Lady Elainewell enough, but never oncehad her presence in my life

meant anything besidestrouble.

Beside her sat Mr.Deverell. He, too, waslooking tired. He stifled ayawnashe spoke agreeting.Suspecting it was late, Ipeered out the single largewindow beside the bed. Thecurtain was drawn back, thewindowpanebeyondascreenofdarkness.

I looked back at myunusual visitors. “Whathappened?”

With a hooded gaze,Deverell said, “What do youremember?”

I blinked, my minddrawingablank.Thenslowlyrecollection crept in, of Mr.Deverell’s class andKatarinaholding the knife, the bladeshattering. Choking on a

breath,Ireachedforthesilverbandonmyleftwrist,onlytodiscoverthatitwasn’tthere.Istarted to get out of the bed,close to panic, but my kneestruck something hard. Iknewwhat itwas instantly—Bellanax,unglamoured.Islidmy hands beneath the sheetand grasped the sword’spommel. At once, my panicsubsided. So did the ache in

myhead.“What do you remember,

Dusty?” Deverell askedagain.

I inhaled, the memorybecoming clear in my mind.“I attacked Katarina becauseshe was making fun of mymom.Only, I didn’tmean todoit.Ijustlostmyheadforaminute.” I hesitated, mylower lipquivering. “Is… is

Katarinaallright?”“Shewillbe,”LadyElaine

said. “The wounds aresuperficial, and given thatshe’s a siren, the nursesanticipate she will healquickly.”

“Is she in the infirmary,too?”

LadyElainenodded.“Justnext door, but she’s mostcertainlyasleepatthishour.”

I inhaled, gulping. “Ididn’t mean to hurt her. Notlikethat.”

“Sheshouldn’thavemadethose comments about yourmother,” Deverell said, hisexpression darkening. “Iregretnotputtinga stop to itsooner.”

“Yes, well.” Lady Elainefoldedhertwiglikearmsoverher chest. “Dusty here needs

tolearnhowtoriseabovethesillyanticsofapettygirl.”

I glanced away, ashamedat the scolding. Lady Elainewas right. It wasn’t the firsttimeKatarinahadtauntedme,and it certainly wouldn’t bethelast.Iknewbetterthantoletitgettome.

Lady Elaine sighed. “Notthatitwasentirelyyourfault,whathappened.Clearly.”

Iturnedbacktoher.“Howso?”

Mr. Deverell cleared histhroat.“Doyourememberthespell you used to make thebladeexplodelikethat?”

I thought about it forseveral long seconds, mymindracingasItriedtomakesense of it. I rememberedcasting the spell, and Iremembered the results

clearly—the polka dot arrayof wounds scattered acrossKatarina’s face—but Icouldn’t remember theincantationI’duttered.AndIknew without a doubt itwasn’t a spell I’d everlearned. I shookmy head. “Idon’t know that spell. I’venever even heard it before.But how … how did I castit?”

Beside my leg, I feltBellanax grow warm, and asound like a cat’s purr filledmyhead.

“Itwastheasundercurse,”LadyElainesaid.

“What?” My mouth fellopen.Thatdefinitelywasn’taspellIknewhowtoperform.The asunder curse wasrestricted—only lawenforcement officers were

permitted to learn it. I shookmy head. “Are you sure?HowdidIdoit?Idon’tthinkI coulddo it again rightnowifItried.”

“Webelieve,”LadyElainesaid, “thatTheWill sword isstartingtoexertitswill.”

“No pun intended,” saidDeverell.

Any surprise I felt thatDeverellnowknewaboutthe

sword was short-lived. Hewas something of an experton numen vessels, and to behonest, it was a relief that Inolongerhadtokeepitsecretfromhim.Isnorted.“Tellmesomething new why don’tyou.”

Lady Elaine frowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”

I rolled my shoulders,surprised to feel how sore I

was,likeDeverellhadusedadazingspellonmeinsteadofasleepingspell.OrmaybeI’djust injured myself when Ifell.“Theswordhasbeenlikethat from day one.” Itshould’ve been hard notsaying Bellanax’s name, butit was surprisingly easy, asecretIhadnodesiretosharewithanyone.

Lady Elaine crossed one

legovertheother,bothofherfeet swinging more than aninch off the floor. The chairwas normal-sized, shemidget. “Areyou saying thatthe sword has been trying toinfluence you since thebeginning?”

“Well, yeah.” I tilted myhead. “Why are you sosurprised? I mean when Ibonded with it the very first

thingitdidwastakeovermybodyandmakemejumpintothatfissure.Ineverwould’vedone that on my own, youknow.”

“Thatwasdifferent,”LadyElainesaid.“Thethreatoftheisland sinkingwas imminent,and the swordhas enoughofits own intelligence to havesensed that everyone was indanger, including you, its

newmaster.”“Yes,” Deverell added,

nodding. “But other thanextreme cases like that mostnumen vessels are quiet.Their masters are barelyawareoftheirexistence.”

Ifrowned.Thatwasn’tmyexperience at all. Right fromthe beginning, Bellanax hadbeen a constant presence.SometimesIcouldevensense

it in my sleep. But I’dassumed that was the norm.Not that I’d had anyone elseto talk toabout it.TherewasEli, of course, his wand anumenvessel,too,butthanksto the stupid dream-seercurse, I hadn’t been aroundhim long enough to comparenotes. Then again, I’d beentherewhenhe’dbondedwiththe wand, but it had been

nothing like Bellanax. He’dsimply been drawn to thewand and it to him, nopossessionrequired.

“What sorts of things hastheswordbeendoing?”LadyElainesaid.

Ipursedmylips.“Nothingbig, really. I mean untiltoday. Mostly it just wantsme to take the glamour offand flash it around. And

sometimesitwantsto,Idon’tknow,likeenforcejustice.”

Deverell scratched hischeek. “What do you meanenforcejustice?”

“Stupid, silly stuff,really.” I brushed strands ofhairthathadfallenfreeofmyponytail behind my ear. Irealized I was still in myschool clothes. That was agood sign. I might be in the

infirmary, but if the nurseshadn’tfelttheneedtoputmein a robe, then it probablywouldn’tbeforlong.

“Like what, Dusty?”Deverellpressed.

Iwrackedmybrain,tryingto think of the best example.Thereweresomanytoshare.“Well, there was one timewhen Mom and I werevisiting Stonehenge over the

summer. I saw this little girlbeingpickedonbyherolderbrotherandtheswordwantedmetostopit.Idid,sorta,butnot the way the swordwanted. I justgot theparentsto pay attention to what washappeningwiththeirkids.”

“Whatdidtheswordwantyou to do?” Lady Elaineasked, her thin eyebrowsarchinghighonherforehead,

creatingacavernofwrinkles.I scrunched up my face.

“It wanted me to swat thelittleboyonthebuttwiththeflatoftheblade.”

Deverell cleared histhroat. “Do you always dowhattheswordwantsinsomemanneroranother?”

Aquakewentthroughmychest. Icouldtellbyhis tonethat this was serious.

Deciding it best to downplaythesword’sinfluence,Ishookmy head. “Some of what itwants me to do is crazy.”ThenIrelayedthestoryabouttheincidentatLochNessandthesword’sdislikeofthemenreferring to Bessie as adinosaurandnotawyvern.

TherewereotherincidentsIcould’vementioned,butthatone seemed the most

harmless. Not all ofBellanax’s“requests”weresoinnocent.Like the timeMomand I visited Isla Màgica inSeville, Spain, on one of ourrare, nonculturally focusedexcursions. It had been sun-poisoning hot and miserablewhilewewaitedinlonglinesfor rides. At one point, twoteenage boys cut in front ofus. They did it smirking and

victorious, fully aware oftheir own asshat behavior. Iwanted so badly to tell themoff.BeforeIknewitBellanaxwas prompting me to throwcursesatthem,tomakethempayfortheircrime,awarningagainst anyone else. For abriefmoment I almostdid it,my mind heady with thethought of exerting suchpower. They were ordinary

boys, not magickind,completely incapable offendingofftheattack.

Evennowtherecollectionofthatdarkimpulsemademystomachclench.

Lady Elaine cast aquizzicallookatDeverell.

“Should I be worried?” Isaid.

A few seconds passedwith neither adult speaking.

Then finally, Deverellexhaled loud enough to beheard. “I don’t believe so.Notnowthatweknowwhat’sgoingonwiththesword.Weshould be able to prevent arepeat of such behavior. Inmy studies I have comeacross a couple of storiesabout numen vessels thatneeded more than just thenaming from their masters.

Some of them seemed torequirearelationshipofsorts.Like a dog wanting thecompany of its owner. Ibelieve the solution is for usto try to discover what theswordwants fromDusty andthenfulfillthatneedasmuchaspossible.”

I felt Bellanax stirring. Itdidn’t like the dogcomparison. Icouldn’tblame

it. Itwasnothingatall likeapet. It was more a wildanimal,feralandpredatory.

“It’s a sword,” I said.“Whatcould itpossiblywantfromme?”IhadanimageoftakingBellanaxforawalk,ormaybeusing it tochopwoodso it could feel useful. Thenagain itwas a sword.Wouldit be satisfied being used forsomething other than

fighting?After all, whatwasaweapon’spurposebuttobeusedtoattackanddefend?

“It might want anynumber of things,” Deverellsaid. He had looked sleepybefore but now he appearedwideawake,eagerinthewayofascholarfacedwithanewdiscovery. “But don’t worry.I doubt itwillwant anythingyouwillbeunwillingtogive.

Clearly,thefirstthingwecanassume is that itwants to befree of the glamour, at leastoccasionally.”

“How do you know?” Iasked, even though I had nodoubt this was true. It madeperfectsense.

“Because the glamourcame off on its own,” LadyElaine said. “And that’shighly unusual. Although

thankfully it didn’t happenuntil after we moved you totheinfirmarysonoonesaw.”

“That’s a relief,” I said,puffingoutmycheeks.

“How often do you takethe glamour off?” Deverellasked.

“Never,” I said. “I mean,it’s a sword, and it oncebelongedtotheRedWarlock.I don’t want anybody

knowing I have it whodoesn’thaveto.”

“Yes, that’s wise,”Deverell said. “But I thinkmoving forward you shouldtake the glamour off eachnight. The sword needs timetobewhatittrulyis.”

Nodding,Isaid,“IthinkIcanmanageit.”

“Good.” Deverell foldedhis arms over his chest. “We

should also schedule someadditional psionics lessons,sameaswedidlastyear.Youneed to develop your rapportwith the sword. You mustlearn how to communicatewith it, and most importanthowtomakesurethatitisnotable to seize control of youagainunlessyouwantitto.”

“Want it to?” I said,incredulous.

“Well, you might haveneedtosavetheworldagain,right?” Deverell winked. Ismiled, feeling better abouttheidea,butthenheadded,“Ithink we should plan on anhoureverydayafterschooltostart. I have room in myschedule to accommodate it.Thenasyouprogresswecanconsider cutting it backsome.”

An extra hour each day?Myheart sank. Iwasalreadyso busy. How was I evergoingtofindtimetoworkonmymother’scase?Andwhatabout homework and Eli?FindingtheDeath’sHeart?

I took a deep breath, mychest tight with growingdespair. I knew therewas nododging this one. It was tooimportant. I had attacked

Katarina with the asundercurse.No, I had attacked thestupidknife,butstill,what ifthe spell hadbeenoff?Whatifithadhitherdirectly?Shemightbedeadnow.AndIwouldbeakiller.

10

StrangerwithYourFace

I spent the night in theinfirmary.

“The nurse will dischargeyou in the morning,” LadyElaine said as she andDeverell prepared to leave.“Youwill be expected togettoclassontime.”

I nodded, wondering justhowlate itwas.“Whataboutmydream-sessionwithEli?”

“Canceled,” Lady Elaine

said.“Obviously.”“Can we make it up

tomorrow?”She clucked her tongue.

“Let’s wait for the Fridaysession. You’ve had astressful week. No reason toaddtoit.”

“Okay,”Isaid,evenasmyheartsanklowinmychest. Ihad a feeling that concernover my stressful week

wasn’t as big a worry forLady Elaine as allowing Eliand I theextra time together.IhopedIwaswrong,butshehad seemed to flinchwhen Isaidhisnamejustnow.

But my spirits rose asecond later when I spottedmy cell lying on top of therolling tray table shoved inthe far corner. I said a quickgood-bye, eager for them to

leave.Finally,Deverellswitched

the lights off and closed thedoor behind him and LadyElaine. I waited a couple ofseconds tomake surenoonedoubledbackandtoallowmyeyestimetoadjusttothedimglow cast by the smallemergency light next to thedoor. I slid from the bed,grabbed my phone off the

tray, and then climbed backunder the covers, beingcareful not to bump intoBellanax.

As I suspected,myphonewas off. I hoped that thenurseshaddoneitratherthanthephoneturningitselfoffbychoice. This was a newphone, shiny and fast, butthere was no telling howquickly it would succumb to

the animation effect.My lastcell, a temperamental ancientdevice that I had despisedwith thepassionof anuclearbomb, had been destroyedduring the Lyonsholdincident.Ithadnothingtodowith the island sinking, andeverything to do with PaulKirkwood, who had riggedthe phone to explode ifanyone tried to access the

hiddenfileshe’d loadedontoit—filescontainingthenamesofsecretMarrowsupporters.

Only, the phone nevershould’veexplodedthewayithad.NotunlessPaulhadbeenlyingtomeaboutitallalong.Suspecting he had lied wasthe biggest reason I’d beendodginghise-mails.Butnow,itwastimetoreadthem.

First though, I needed to

text Eli. Once the phoneturnedonandfoundasignal,several waiting messagealertsappearedonthescreen.I read the ones from Selenebut didn’t reply. She wouldcertainly be asleep. To Eli, Isent:

I’mokay.Intheinfirmary.Lotstotalkaboutsoon.I

hatethatImissedoursession.

I pressed send, and thennavigated to my e-mails. Asbefore, more than a dozenunread messages waited inmy in-box. I decided to startat the bottom and work mywayup.But just as I clickedon the oldest message fromPaul, my phone buzzed with

anincomingtext.

I’mcomingtoseeyou.

What???

I wrote back, franticallymistyping and relying onautocorrect.

Rightnow?You’ll

getintrouble.

I’llbeokay.Iwanttoseeyou.Justdon’tscreamwhenIgetthereandleavethelightoff.Whatroom?

Giddy,Islidfromthebedagainandcrept to thedoor.Ipushed it open slowly, my

handstremblingwithapotentmix of fear and excitement.The corridor outside was asdimasmy room,but I couldjust make out the numberoverthedoor.

Room12

ItypedtoEliasIclimbedintothebedoncemore.

Gotit.Seeyousoon.

Becareful.

I leaned back, resting myheadon the pillowwhilemyheartstutteredagainstmyribcage.Eliwascominghere.Itwas a huge risk, but if hepulleditoffwewouldfinallyhave some alone timetogether. Warmth spreadthroughmeatthethought.

Anxious, I tried to focusonPaul’se-mailsagain,butitproved impossible. My eyesread the words, but themeaning got lost on the wayto my brain. I was able togleanonlythebasics.Hewassorry for what happened atLyonshold, and he claimednot to be at fault for whathappenedwiththephone.Buthe didn’t offer any

explanations about it either.His e-mails seemed vagueand cagey. They read likesomeone afraid they mightget intercepted. Couldsomeone be monitoring e-mails? I knew such thingshappened in the ordinaryworldwith all that homelandsecurity stuff, but my phonewasusingArkwell’swirelesssystem.Could themagickind

governmentbereadingmye-mails?Mytextmessages?

This last thought had mesittingupagaininmomentarypanic. The magickindgovernmentwas terriblewithordinarytechnologies.Paul,acomputergeniusgoodenoughto be accepted at MIT, hadproven that time and timeagain. But DetectiveValentine was using DNA

evidence against my mother.Perhaps things werechanging.

With my mental stateteetering between calm andfreak-out, I setmy phone onthe bed besideBellanax thenforcedmyself toliebackandclose my eyes. I doubted Iwould be able to sleep any,but pretending couldn’t hurt.Yet somehow, I must’ve

drifted off, because the nextthingIknewIheardthedoorintomy roomopen. I peeredaround, groggy anddisorientedforasecond,untilmy eyes fell on the figurewalkingtowardthebed.

“You made it,” I said,reachingup.

“Hi,Dusty.”Isuckedinabreath,panic

bringingmefullyawake.Not

Eli. I opened my mouth andstarted to scream just as ahand fell over my lips,stranglingthenoise.

“Shhh, please don’tscream, Dusty. It’s me. It’sPaul.”

Thrashing now, I tried topulloutfromhisgrip,buthewastoostrong.IfeltBellanaxlying beside me, and Ireached for the sword, ready

tofightmywayfree.Abruptly, the hand

holdingmymouthletgo.“Please don’t scream. I’m

sorry I scared you.” He heldout his hand and a lightappeared in his palm, a faintglowing orb, casting justenoughformetoseehisface.

“Paul?” I said, my breathcoming in quick pants. Thevoice sounded close to his,

but the man standing beforeme wasn’t my ex-boyfriend.The nose was wrong, theshapeoftheforehead.Andhewore a beard, long andscraggly. Recognition struckme. It was the creepy manfrom the Menagerie who’dstaredatmethatfirstday.Hewas still wearing the greenworkshirt.

“It’sme,Dusty.Here, I’ll

prove it.” He set the orb onthe bed, the little ball purelymagical and not at risk ofcatching anything on fire.Then he reached up andunfastened the necklace hewore. It was strangelymade,as rigid as a choker withirregularly shaped whitebeadsbraided into thehemp-like chain, but long enoughthatthelargegreengematits

center had been hiddenbeneathhisshirtcollar.

The moment he pulled itoff,hisfacewentblurry—thesightmakingmystomachroil—but then his featuresrightedintosomethinghumanagain. The creepy beardedmanbecamePaulKirkwood.

I didn’t know if Iwantedto hug him or hit him. “Youscared me to death, and I

can’t believe you’ve been atArkwellallthistime.”

“Sorry for the scare. Iwasn’t thinking. But whattime?”Paulsaid,thehintofagrin on his lips. “School’sonly been back in sessionthreedays.”

I huffed.Hewas right, ofcourse, but with everythinggoing on it felt longer.Especially combined with

how long it had been sinceI’d seen him last. “What areyou doing here?” I said,finallyovercomingmyshock.Eli was on his way, and thelast thing I wanted was forhimtoshowupandfindPaulstandingovermybed.

“You never read my e-mails.” It came out anaccusationdrapedinamatter-of-facttone.

“Howdoyouknowthat?”Paul shrugged. “I put a

readreceiptonthem.”“Of course you did.” I

folded my arms over mychest.Iwasfullydressed,butI felt naked with him in theroom, vulnerable. But then Iremembered that Bellanaxwaslyingbetweenusandthatvulnerability vanished.“You’re lucky I didn’t stab

you.” Too late I realizedmyblunder.

Paul arched an eyebrow.“So it’s true. You have TheWillsword.”

“What … what are youtalkingabout?”

“Don’t try todeny it.”Hebrushed back a strand ofblondhairthathadfallenintohis eyes. He was wearing itlong again, a ponytail at the

base of his skull. “But whenyou’ve spent all summerbeing carted around by onemagickind policemen afteranother,youhearrumors.”

My shock must’veregistered on my face.“NobodyissupposedtoknowIhaveit.”

“Don’t worry. It wasmostly guesswork on mypart.” He smiled, reminding

meinaveryvisceralwayjusthowhandsomehewas.“AndI had inside informationgoingin.”Like what? I wanted to

ask, but instead I clearedmythroat. “Same old Paul.Alwaysangling,aren’tyou?”

Ahurt expression crossedhis face, and I regretted myhasty words, no matter thattheyweretrue.“Ididn’tlieto

youaboutthecodeonthecellphone,Dusty.”

“Thenwhydiditexplode?Isawyouruncleputthecodein correctly. There’s noreason it should’ve self-destructed. Not unless youhada time limit for the thingto be secured again.” Thewords came out easy,practiced. Mostly becausethey were. I’d imagined

saying this to him a hundredtimesbefore.

Paulsighed.“You’reright.Therewasatimeronit.”

“Why did you lie aboutit?” Iwas furious that I’d lethimtrickmeagain.

“It wasn’t an intentionallie. I just … forgot to tellyou.”

“Ha.” I kicked themattresswith the heel ofmy

foot. “Well, wasn’t thatconvenient.”

Paul crossed his arms. Irealized he was no longerwearing the greenwork shirtbutamaroon teewithaMITlogo across the front. Theclothes must’ve changed thesame time as his face had.“It’strue,”hesaid.“IrealizedIforgot to tellyourightafterwe said good-bye that day.

Weweredowninthetunnels,inouroldspot,remember?”

Againstmy sincere desirenot to, I felt myself blush.Some of the canals dead-ended into reservoirs. TherewasonesuchreservoirwherePaul and I had always metwhenweweredating,asecretplace where we could havetime together in private,unobserved.Exactly the kind

ofplacethatEliandIneededrightaboutnow.

Thoughts of Eli chasedawaymyblush.“Ofcourse,Iremember.Iwasthere.”

“Yeah.” Paul started tofidget with the collar of hisshirt. “Well, it was a littledistracting being down therewith you again after …after… everything.You canunderstandthat,right?”

Ireluctantlynodded.“AndwhenIgaveyouthe

code you didn’t try to openthedatarightthen.IfyouhadI would’ve remembered totell you how to close itproperly.Andso—”Heblewout a breath. “It’s gone now,destroyed forever. I can’t tellyou how sorry I am aboutthat.”

I staredathimfor several

long seconds. The light orbstill glowed, but it wasstarting to flicker, castingdancing shadows over hisface. Reluctantly, I decidedhe was being sincere.Believing the alternative—that he’d intentionally nottoldmeabout the timer—feltbeyond my ability to dealwithat themoment.Besides,what did it matter? Like he

said,thedatawasgone,andIhad so many other things toworryaboutnow.

“Okay,” I said, “apologyaccepted. But you’ve got togo.”

“Are you expectingsomeone?” He said it jokingat first, but thenunderstanding dawned on hisface. “Eli.” The line of hislips went razor thin. “I’ll

leaveinasecond,butIdidn’tcome here just to apologize.I’ve got info about yourmother.”

Myheart seemed to falterfor a second, like a carstallingoutthensurgingbacktolife.“Whatdoyouknow?”

Paul met my gaze, hisexpression unwavering. “Shedidn’tkillmyuncle.”

I held my breath, braced

for whatever he would saynext. It was me, I imaginedhim saying. Paul hated TitusKirkwood. I didn’t have asingledoubtthathewould’vekilled him, given the chance.And deep down, I couldn’treallyblamehimafterall theyears of abuse he’d sufferedat his uncle’s hands. No, Icertainly wasn’t sorry Tituswas dead, only that my

motherwasbeingblamedforit.

“She was there, on theward,” Paul said, “At leastI’mprettysureitwasher.Buthe was still alive when sheleft.”

Myhead spunwith shockforamoment.“Mymomwasthere?”

“Yeah, I think so. Theywerekeepingmeinthesame

wardasTitusatthetime.Formy protection, you know.The night he died, someonecame onto the ward betweenthemidnightandoneo’clockguardcheck.Ididn’tseewhoit was. The person put meunderabindingspell.”

“Wait.” I raised my handtomyforehead.“Ifyoudidn’tsee the person, then how doyouknowitwasher?”

“The magic … it felt …well…alotlikeyours.”

“Oh.”Ablushwarmedmyskin. Magic did havecharacteristics unique to theperson who wielded it, butrecognizing themwas tricky.It was the sort of thing thatrequired a lot of familiaritywith the magic, a kind ofintimacy.

“Anyway,” Paul

continued, a flush rising uphis neck, “my uncle wasn’tkilled until some timebetween the one and twoo’clock guard check, longafterIwasfreeofthebindingspell. When the one o’clockguard made his rounds, hetalked to my uncle briefly. Iheard Titus reply. The twoo’clock guard is the one thatfoundhimdead.”

My hope rose, and Ireached for Bellanax,wrappingmyhandaroundthehiltasifforaholdfast.Ifmymom had visited the ward,then that might explain theDNA. It might even explainher guilt, too. “Did you seeanyone else come onto thewardduringthattime?”

“No, but I might havefallenasleep.”

Ibitmy lip.“Didyou tellanyoneaboutwhatyousaw?”

Heshookhishead.“Whynot?”“I didn’t have any proof,

for one thing, just a feeling.And I was trying to protectyourmom.To protect you. Ididn’t know what she wasdoing there, but I knew itwould be trouble for hereither way. And at the time

thedetective interviewedme,she wasn’t even a suspectyet.”

“Okay,”Isaid,grudginglyseeing his point. “But whatabout now? It was DetectiveValentine, right? If you tellhim he might let my momgo.”

Paul sighed. “It won’twork, Dusty. He wouldn’tbelieve me. I already lied

once,and…”“Andwhat?”“He knows how I feel

about you. He would justthinkIwaslyingnowtohelpyou.”

I turned away from him,both in frustration andembarrassment.Ididn’tknowhow to react. I wasn’t sure Ieven believed him. Paul wassohardtoreadandsoeasyto

distrust. Mostly because myfirst inclination was alwaysthe opposite—I wanted tobelieve everything he saidwholeheartedly.But thatwasa bad idea. Paul was ahalfkind, likeme,but insteadof being part human, partNightmare, he was partwizard, part siren. I knewfirsthandhowgoodhewasatsirenmagic.UnlikeKatarina,

or even Selene, Paulwas slywith his siren magic. Hecouldmesmerizewithoutyoueverrealizing.

Untilitwastoolate.“Anyway,” Paul said into

the awkward silence. “I’mreallysorry.Iwishtherewassomething I could do aboutit.”

“Maybeyoucan.”Ibitmylip. Eli would be here soon,

butthiswastooimportantnotto pursue. “I need to get ahold of Valentine’s case fileon the murder. The DreamTeamisgoingtoinvestigate.”

Paul nodded, a politesmile creasing his lips. “Ifigured. But I don’t see howI’m going to get it for you.I’m not supposed to wanderfar from theMenagerie.Thisis my witness protection

cover.” He held up thenecklaceagain,thegreengemtwinkling as it caught thelightfromtheorb.

“What is it exactly?” Iasked, my curiosity gettingthebetterofme.

“It’s a shape-changenecklace. It allows me tochange my appearancewithout the telltalesignsofanormal glamour.No blurring

aroundtheedgesandstuff.”“It’s a good one,” I said.

“I had no idea it was you inthere.ButIwasn’tsuggestingyougoing to theRush to getthefiles.”

“Thenhow?”“Hacking Valentine’s

computer. Think you can doit?”

Paulraisedhishandtohisface and rubbed his chin.He

didn’thaveabeardanymore,notwithout the shape-changenecklace on, but there was agood amount of blondstubble. “I don’t know,Dusty. I’m on really thin icein general. If I get caught itcouldmeanjailtime.”

Ipressedmylipstogether,angry tearsstingingmyeyes.My mother was already injail, and she was innocent.

Unlike Paul. I took a breathand then blurted, “Valentinesays they’ll execute her ifshe’sfoundguilty.”

Paul gaped. “You’rekidding. For killing myuncle?Thatdoesn’tseemlikejustice.”

“Don’t joke about it,Paul,” I hissed. “Don’t youdare.”

Heraisedhishandsasifin

surrender. “Wasn’t joking.But all right. I’ll do it. Atleast,I’llgiveitatry.Ican’tpromiseI’llbeabletogetin.ThisValentineguyknowshisstuff better than any othermagickindI’veseen.”

“So I’ve noticed,” I said.Even still I felt light-headedwithrelief.“But thankyou. Ican’t tell you how much itmeans.”

“LikeIsaid,nopromises.”Paul hesitated. “And I’mgoing to need a couple ofthingsfromyou.”

“Suchas?”“Computeraccess,mostly.

I’mnotallowedtoconnecttothe network. I’m not evenallowedtolookatacomputerfor longer than a secondwithout my guards steppingin.”

“You’re being guarded?”It was an all-too familiarscenario.

Paulshrugged.“Sure.Canyoublamethem?I’vegottwoWill Guards that take turnswatchingmeallday.”

“Huh.” I frowned. “Thenhow did you get away fromthemtonight?”

“With this.” Paul held upthe necklace again. “I finally

figuredouthowtochangetheglamouratwill.Asfarasmyguards know I can only shiftinto the Menagerie workeryousawbefore.Thenecklacedefaults to that, but if Iconcentrate hard enough, Ican change it to somethingelse. Itwasenough to letmewalkbythemtonightwithoutthemevenknowingit.”

“Wow,” I said, genuinely

impressed. “That’s got to behandy.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Iwas starting to go nuts nothavinganyfreedom.”

I smiled, utterlysympathetic. “But wait, ifyou’re not allowed computeraccess then how have youbeen e-mailing me allsummer?”

“Cell phone. But Sheriff

Brackenberry gave it to me,soyoucanbetit’snotclean.”

“No kidding.” Thatexplained the dodgy tone inhis e-mails. I was suddenlyvery glad that I neveransweredanyofthem.

“But as I was saying,”Paul continued. “I need yourusername and password. Icould also use a goodcomputer, and you’ll need to

purchaseanddownloadsomesoftware. Do you have alaptopthesedays?”

Ishookmyhead.“JusttheeTab and my ancientdesktop.”

“Nogood.”I thought about it for a

couple of seconds, frustratedtomeetanother roadblock sosoon. There was no way Icouldgetmyhandsonanew

laptop. I didn’t have anymoney for it; what littlesavings I’d had before hadtakenahitduringmysummerabroad. Eli didn’t have oneeitherandneitherdidSelene.

Then the answer dawnedon me. “Lance Rathbonemight have one. If Seleneaskshe’dprobably letususeit. Actually, if she asks hemight go out and get a new

one just to make her happy.Hisdad’srichenoughforhimtodocrazystufflikethat.”Solong as he hasn’t beendisinherited yet, I remindedmyself.

“All right,” Paul said.“Talk to him and let meknow.”

“How can I do that withyour phone beingmonitored?”

“The old-fashioned way.”A delighted expression litPaul’sface.“Writemeanote.I’ll be sure to be near whenyou’reinbiologytomorrow.”

I wrinkled my nose. Isupposed that would work.With the chaos that wasbiology, slipping him a notewouldbesimpleenough.Butit was a slow way tocommunicate. “We can do

that for now, but we shouldcome up with a code so wecanusethephones.”

“Agreed.”He inclined hishead. “I’ll put somethingtogetherthatBrackenberry,orwhoever is watching, won’tbeabletofigureout.”

“It’s a plan. But you’vegot to go.” I glanced at thedoor, convinced I’d heard anoise. But several seconds

passed, and the doorremainedshut.

“All right.” Paul slid thenecklace around his neck,locking it into place. Thesecond he did, the magic inthe thing kicked on. Thatsame blurriness obscured hisfeatures for a second beforeclearing again. The creepybearded man stood in theroomwithme.Isuppresseda

shiver.Paul peered down at me

with a stranger’s eyes. “I’lltalk to you soon. Be careful.Especiallywiththatsword.”

I nodded, lacking thenervetospeak.Itwasjusttooweird with him in thatdisguise.

Heturnedtowardthedoor,but thenstoppedjustshortofopening it. He glanced back.

“One more thing. Are yougoingtotellEliIwashere?”

“I…” I hesitated, theanswer not forthcoming. “Idon’t know. Probably. Whydoyouask?”

“He won’t like it,” Paulsaid, a warning look in hiseyes.“Hehatesme.”

Iscoffed.“Elidoesn’thateyou. You’re just not hisfavoriteperson.Likeever.”

Paul chortled. “That’s anunderstatement.Dowhatyouwant, but please rememberthat nobody is supposed toknowI’mhere.”

“Eli wouldn’t out you,” Isaid,annoyed.

“No, I suppose not. Butplease promise to keep itsecret. Selene and Lance areokay.Butthat’sit.Allright?”

“Sure,” I said,

understanding all too well.Paul had made a lot ofenemies the last fewmonths.He’d been one of Marrow’smost important followersonce, and now he’d openlyturned against him. Everyperson on that destroyed listmightbeouttogethim.

“Thanks,” Paul said. “I’llbe seeing you.” Then hedisappeared out the door,

closingitsilentlybehindhim.Aloneagain,Ileanedback

on the pillow and closedmyeyes, eager for Eli’s arrival.Even though having Paulback in my life wasn’tsomething Iwanted, I had toadmit he’d raisedmy spirits.The situation with my momlooked less bleak than it hadjust an hour before. Lessbleak enough that I thought

I’d be able to enjoy theprivate timewithEliwithouttoomuchguiltorworry.About time, I thought,

yawning.But as the seconds gave

way to minutes, and finallyanhour,Isuccumbedtosleeponcemore.

Elinevershowedup.

11

BadLuck

“Wherewereyou?”

Eli chewed the last bit ofhis bacon and swallowed.Around us the cafeteria waschaotic with breakfastactivity, chattering voices,tired laughter, and the clickand clack of silverwareagainst plates. Selene andLance were still goingthrough the food line, givingEli andmea raremoment totalk in private. Minus the

couple dozen of our fellowstudents,ofcourse.

“I got caught byBollinger,” he said, rubbinghis eyes. Two dark circlesrimmedhischeeks.“Shewaspatrolling right outside theinfirmary. I think Iwould’vemadeitintoseeyouifithadbeen anybody else, but sheknew exactly why I wasthere.”

Myeyebrowsclimbedmyforehead.“Youthinkshewasguardingme?”

“Yeah, maybe. At leastsheknewyouwereinthere.Itwasrottenbadluck.”

“No kidding.” I smiled,ruefully. “That’s certainlyhow it’s been running for uslatelythough,right?”

“So it seems.”He pushedhis tray to the side, the food

half-eaten. I frowned,dismayedbyhis reaction. I’dexpected the opposite. Hewas usually my bright-sideboy.

Decidingitwasmyturntotakethesunnyview,Ileanedtoward him, lowering myvoice. “In the better newsdepartment, I might have awaytogetacopyofthecasefiles Valentine has on my

mom.”“You do?” Eli sat up

straighter.“How?”“Paul’sback.He’shereat

Arkwell, but it’s a secret.He’s in disguise for his ownprotection.Buthe’swillingtotry to hack into Valentine’scomputerforus.”

Eli’s body went rigid.“When did you start talkingtoPaul?”

Iswallowed,rememberingPaul’swarning.“He’sbeene-mailing me all summer. I’vebeen ignoring them, but lastnight…hecametoseemeintheinfirmary.NotlongafterItextedyou.”

Elidughisfingersagainstthe table. “You were alonewith him? In the middle ofthenight?”

I slowly nodded. “I

thought it was you at first.Youcanimaginemyshock.”

The sound of his teethgrinding sent a shiver downmyback.“Notreally.”

“Well, trust me, I wasn’thappy about it. Until he toldmethatheknowsmymotherisinnocent.”

I watched as Eli visiblyunclenched his jaw. “Whatdidhesay?”

Quickly, I relayed thestory. “And so I ended upasking if he could hack intothe police computer networkfor us,” I said, as I finished,“andheagreed.”

Eli drew a deep breath,and I could see the strugglewaging inside him. “That’sgood news. And I’m… I’mgladhe’swillingtohelp.Weneedthosefilesforsure.”

“Right,” I said, my voicebreathlesswithrelief.

Eli reached across thetableandtookmyhand.“Justmake sure you don’t goanywhere alone with himagain.Ever.Okay?”

Ipressedmylipstogether,fighting back a smile at hisprotectiveness. “I’ll try notto.”

“I mean it, Dusty.” He

locked his eyes on my face,hisgazeintense.“Hecan’tbetrusted, and … and I’mworriedaboutyou.”

I let out a nervous laugh.“Don’t be. It’s like you said.Dreams are symbolic. It wasmy dead body but it wasn’tme.” Just don’t let it be mymother either, I silentlyadded.

Eli shook his head. “It’s

notthat.Well,notonlythat.”“Then what?” My pulse

quickened as I realized thedepthofhisconcernwentfarbeyondmereprotectiveness.

“I’m terrified that you’regoing to get hurt. And Paulcoming back into the picturejustmakesitworse.”

Blood rushed in my ears.One dream containing mydead body couldn’t be

enough to make him thisspooked. “Why are you soworriedaboutme?”

He sighed. “It’s stupid.ButIkeephavingalotofbaddreams about you. Reallybad.”

The bad dream I’d hadabout him rose in vividdetails inside my mind, allthose bones crushing downonme.Istifledashiver.

“I’ve always had themsince Lady Elaine first toldme about the curse, but theyfadedsomeoverthesummer.Now they’re back full force.Sometimes I dream about usarguing, you telling me thatyoudon’twanttobewithmeanymore.” He laughed, thesound hollow, like the tinnyping of a cheap bell.“Sometimesyoueventellme

that you’d rather be withPaul. But often, I just dreamabout you getting hurt.” Ashudder went through hisbody.

I didn’t press him fordetails. I knew well enoughhow vivid and relentlessdreams could be and with athousandwaystodieinthem.

“And the worst thing is,”Eli went on, “I’m the one

whokeepsdoingit.Ihurtyouoverandoveragain.”

The hairs on the back ofmyneckstoodup.ItwashardtodismisshisworrywhenI’dhadthesamesortsofdreams.There was no such thing ascoincidence in the magicalworld.“Doyou think it’s thecurse?”

“I don’t know, but it’sdefinitelysomething.”

Myheartdidahardstutterin my chest. Around mywrist, Bellanax felt cold,lifeless. All at once thecertainty I’d been harboringthatthedream-seercursewasamade-upthing,aspowerlessto hurt us as the boogeymanin children’s stories, camecrashingdown.Therewasnodenying what happened toMarrowandNimue,afterall.

They’dbeendream-seers justlike Eli and me. By allaccountstheyhadoncelovedeach other, but the feelinghad turned to hate. Nimueimprisoned Marrow in adream,meaning to keep himthere for all eternity. Andwhenheawoke,hekilledher.With the very sword

glamouredaroundmywrist.Thistruthmademeflinch.

It was a terrible, wondrousthing to realize thatBellanaxhadkilledpeople.No, I thought. The sword

is just a sword. Marrow didthekilling.

Eli squeezed my fingersagain.“It’sprobablynothing.Don’t worry about it.Goodness knows we’ve gotenough on our plate rightnow.”

Iopenedmymouth,readyto tell him about my owndream,butSelene andLancearrived at the table, trays inhand.We never have enough

time, I thought, my spiritssinking.Badluckindeed.

“Hey,”Lancesaid,slidingintohischair.“Andyes.”Hepicked up a unicorn skewerandpulledoff the firstpiece,

egg with onion, tomato, andspinachallwrappedinbacon.

I narrowed my gaze athim, immediately suspicious.“Yeswhat?”

He grinned up at me,forcibly chewing. He gulpedthefooddownandsaid,“Youcanborrowmylaptop.”

“Your laptop?” Eli said,lookingpuzzled.

“Yeah,sheneedsitforher

ex to hack into the policedepartment’scomputers.”

“Shhh.” Selene slappedhis arm. “Keep your voicedown.”

Lance winced. “Opps.Sorry.”

I turned to Eli andexplainedtherestoftheplan.

Henoddedhis agreement,his earlier worry hiddenbehind an aloof mask—one

heworeformybenefit.Wemadeplanstomeetup

inroom013afterdinner,thenweheadedofftoclass.

Out of respect for Eli, Iwaited until after homeroomtowritethenotetoPaul—outof sight, out of mind. But itproved challenging to focuson during English andhistory. We were stillstudying Beowulf, a story I

was familiar with thanks tovarious movies and TVshows. Only, like so manyother ordinary myths,Beowulfwasatruestory.Andthe magickind version was alittlemoreinteresting.

“When Beowulf’s slavestolethegoldencupfromthedragon,” Mr. Corvus wassaying,“thepoorfooldidnotknowtherewasacurseupon

thegold.Itwasthiscursethatwas responsible for all thedestruction that came later.Thedragonwasboundbythelaws of the curse to destroythe lives and property ofwhoever had committed thetheft for seven generationson.”

I set downmypencil,mynote to Paul only halfcomposed. The idea of the

curse had caught myattention.Cursescameintwotypes: minor and major.Minor ones were those youcould cast with anincantation, like the asundercurse.Butmajoroneswereadifferentbeast all together.Abeast like the dream-seercurse.

Iraisedmyhand.“Yes,Dusty.”Mr.Corvus

motionedtowardme.“Ifthecursewassupposed

to be for seven generations,does that mean Beowulfbrokethecursebyslayingthedragon?”

“Yes,” Corvus said,scratchinghisneatlytrimmedgoatee.“Butonlybecausethedragon had cast the curse tobegin with.” Corvus pausedand swept his one-eyed gaze

over the room, making surehe had everyone’s attention.“Beowulf was very lucky inthis. The dragon wasextremelyold.Ifithaddiedanaturaldeath,thecursewouldhave continued, only insteadof the dragon causing thedestruction it would’ve beenthe elements—storms,earthquakes, famine. That isthe nature of major curses.

Often, they grow morepowerfulovertime.”

Ileanedbackinmychair,heavy with disappointment,andyet—“Is therenoway tobreakacurseoncethecreatorhasdied?”

Corvusstaredatmealongtime before answering. Iresisted the urge to squirmbeneath the scrutiny. “Thereareotherways,butnonewith

anyguaranteeofworking.”With that,he turnedaway

from me, the subject at anend.

***

When I arrived at biology, Ispotted Paul right away. Hiscreepy bearded-man disguisewasslightlylessdisturbinginbroad daylight, but stillweird. Especially when he

lookedatmewith suchopenfamiliarity. Ignoring mydisquiet, I walked past him,slyly holding out my handwiththenotetuckedbetweenmy fingers. Paul plucked thenote from me with an easethat suggested we’d beendoing this sort of thing for along time. I was glad Eliwasn’taroundtoseeit.

The rest of the day sped

by quickly, mostly thanks toallthehomeworkIwastryingtosqueezeinbetweenclasses.I needed to make someheadway, especially with thestart of my private lessonswithDeverellthisafternoon.

Fortunately, when Iarrived at Deverell’s roomafter classes, he told me wewould keep it short that firstday.

“I know you must betired,” he said. “And there’slittle point in doing a wholelotifyourmindisn’trested.”

I could’ve hugged him,butIrefrained.

“I figurewewillworkonsome mind-strengtheningexercises, but before we dothat,wouldyoumindtakingalook at this?” Deverellhanded me a piece of paper

thatatfirstglanceItooktobeanother nondisclosureagreement.

“Student conductagreement?” I said, readingthe title written across thetop.

“Yes,”Deverellsaid.“Thenondisclosure agreement Ihad to sign in order to helpyouwith the sword gavemetheidea.”

I scanned the fine print,which seemed to detail atlength all types of bullying.“Doesitworkthesameasthenondisclosure?”

“Indeed, although therange of the spell will belimitedtothisclassroom.”Hemotionedtotheroomwithitsauditorium setup and largeopen space at the front. “Butonceeverystudentsignsone,

theywillnolongerbeabletopartake in any bullyingbehaviors during my classes.Themagicwillquite literallysealtheirmouthsshut.”

An image of Katarinalooking like a cow chewingcud flashed in my mind.“You’redoingthisforme?”

Deverell cupped his chin,running long tanned fingersover his angular jaw. “Not

just for you, but for all mystudents. I’ve had the optionofimplementingoneoftheseagreements from thebeginning. Psionics can besuchadelicateareaofmagic.Therearerisksinvolvedwithopening your mind to otherpeople, as youwell know. Ifyou’re not skilled atprotecting your thoughts,otherscangleanthem.”

I nodded, rememberingthe way he’d taught me toguard my memories andthoughtsIdidn’twanthimtosee during our sessions lastyearwhenwehadengagedinnousdesmos,aspecialkindofmind-link.

“AndIdon’twantarepeatof what happened betweenyou and Katarina,” Deverellwent on. “This classroom, if

nowhereelseoncampus,willbe a safe haven for anystudentwhoenters.”

Onceagaintheurgetohughim came over me. I beat itback, settling for the hugestsmile my face would allow.“Thank you, Mr. Deverell.Thatsoundswonderful.”

Hebeamedatme.“You’rewelcome. Now let’s getstarted.”

We spent the rest of thetime doing basic mindstrengthening exercises. BythetimewereachedtheendIwas tired, but not nearly asexhausted as I’d been aftersome of our sessions lastyear.Before I’d bondedwithBellanax, the sword hadhaunted my dreams forweeks. But with Mr.Deverell’s help, I finally

figured outwhat itwanted—me. I couldonlyhope itwasquicker about tellingme thistime.

“Make sure you leave thesword unglamoured againtonight,Dusty,”Mr.Deverellsaid.

I nodded, picking upBellanaxbythehilt.Deverellhad suggested we leave thesword in its natural state

duringthesession.“Also,”Deverellsaid,“we

mightwanttoconsidertryingsomepsychometryonit.Thatis,ifyou’rewilling.”

Icockedmyhead,alarmedbythesuggestion.Theswordhad belonged to Marrow foryears.“Doyouthinkitmighttell us something about him?Like what it’s like when heresurrects?”

Deverell tented hisfingers. “Anything ispossible.”

Theideawasboththrillingandterrifying.Iexaminedthesword, seeing it in a newlight. My mom wasconvinced that finding theperson who freed Marrowfrom the tomb was the bestway to stop him, but thiscouldbeevenbetter.

Asswordsgo,itwasn’tallthat impressive, certainly notas ornate as some of theswords you could buy at aRenaissance festival. Thecross guard was made ofblack steel, narrow in widthand perfectly straight exceptfor where the ends liftedsharplyupward.Boneaspaleas ivory formed the hilt, anengraving of a phoenix

covering the roundedpommel. I’d always assumedthatMarrowhadput it there,asymbolofbothhis familiarandhismasteryofBellanax.Isupposed thatwas somethingthepsychometrymighttellusforsure.

Making up my mind, Ipulled my gaze away fromthe sword and reapplied theglamour. “I’m up for it,” I

said, sliding the silver bandonto my wrist. “But maybeyoushouldtryitfirstthough,sinceI’msonewatit.”

“That won’t benecessary,”Deverellsaid,hisexpression confident. “Wewill do it together. Besides,I’m not certain the swordwouldpermitme toprobe itssecretswithoutyou.”

“Permit?” I started to

smile,thoughtbetterofit,andfrowned. “The sword couldstopyou?”

“Of course. This is notsome mere inanimate object.It’s alive, in a manner ofspeaking. If it does not wishtodivulgeitshistorytomeitwon’t. I mean to say, that isthepointofwhatwe’redoinghere—foryoutolearnhowtocommunicate with your

numenvessel.”“Right.” I hoisted my

backpack onto my shoulder.“Together then.” It was amore reassuring option thangoingitalone.

Although Deverell hadindeed cut the session short,there wasn’t time for me tomakeittoEli’spractice.Eventhough I was anxious to seehim—if only to quell the

doubt thathadbeenplaguingmeallday—Ireturnedtomydormroom,decidingtofocuson homework instead. Iwanted to get as much donebefore dinner as I could. Ialso took the time to try mymom’s flash drive, which atlastseemedtohavedriedout.To my dismay, an errorpopped up on the screenwhen I plugged it into my

computerstatingthediskwascorrupt.

“Damn.” I smacked thetopofthedesk,andmyradiogave a little squawk ofsurprise. I ejected the driveand slid it into my pantspocket.

When I arrived at thecafeteria, my brain hurtingfrom overload, I said to thegroupatlarge,“Doyoumind

ifEliandIheadtoroomoh-thirteen early? We’ve gotsome things to talk about inprivate.”

Lance smirked and thenmadeakissingsound.Selenesmacked him in the back ofthehead.

I rolled my eyes,embarrassed with goodreason—kissing wasdefinitelyontheagenda.

“I’ll leave first,” Eli saidas we finished eating. “I’llhead around Monmouth andthen double back. You leavea fewminutes later and go adifferentway.”

I started to ask him why,then understood. We neededtoditchtheWillGuard.Forasecond, I wished we hadPaul’s shape-changenecklace. It would certainly

makethingseasier.Five minutes later, I left

the cafeteria, making a leftwhere Eli had turned right. Iarrived at room 013 in thelibrary a short while later.ThemomentIentered,achairwheeled out from beneath adeskandchargedme.

“Down, Buster!” Iscreamed, arms braced todefendmyself.Thechairslid

toa stopwitha loudsqueak.It seemed to stare at me forseveral seconds—a weirdsensationconsideringitdidn’thave eyes. Or a face even.Nevertheless the chair wascapableofexpressingitself—quite clearly. It was anotherunfortunate victim of theanimation effect, which forsome reasonwas particularlyvirulent in room 013. That

was why we’d selected theplace for Dream Teammeetings.Nobody ever cameinherebychoice.

“Good boy,” I said,leaning forward to give thechair a pat. “Selene will behere to see you in just a fewminutes.”

Now the chair gave theimpression of beingdelighted. It rolled back and

forth several times on itswheels, squeaking them likemechanicalpealsof laughter.For whatever reason, thechair had taken a fancy toSelene.Somuchsothatshe’dbeen forced to give it itsname just in an attempt tokeep it under control. Theployhadworked.Someofthetime.

Satisfied I was no longer

in danger of trampling bychair,Iscannedtherestoftheroom. Eli wasn’t here.Frowning, I turned back tothe door just in time to seehimarrive.

He didn’t hesitate, butcameinandsweptmeupinahug.Itwasadifferentkindofhug than all the ones before,asifheweretryingtoholdonto me while some invisible

forceattemptedtowrenchmeaway.He’s still worried. I was,

too, but Iwasn’t about to letit get tome.Not now,whenwefinallyhadafewmomentsalone. Besides this curse,even if it did exist, wasn’tlike the dragon’s treasure inthe story of Beowulf. Ourfeelings for each otherweren’t tangible, something

we could put in our pocketand carry around. We werepeople—free-willed and ableto make our own choices.Like choosing to love eachothernomatterwhat.

“I’ve been thinking aboutwhatyou said earlier,” I saidoverhisshoulder,myvoicealittlebreathlessfromhisarmspressing me against him.“And I’ve decided that your

dreamsaboutmegettinghurtdon’t mean anything. Afterall, I often dream aboutshowing up to class nakedandthatneverhappens.”

Eliturnedhisheadtowardme, his lips brushing myneck. “That’s a littledisappointing.”

Iignoredthecommentandthewaymyskinreacted—alltingling and writhing with

pleasure. “The only dreamsthat matter are the ones weshare.”

I feltEli’s smile, as ifhisentirebodyhad justbreatheda massive sigh of relief.Sensingit,understandingthatmyfaith inushad thepowerto make him feel this good,drove all my fear and doubtaway, scattering it like sandinawindstorm.

Emboldened, I reachedupand grabbed his face,draggingitdowntomine.Hismouth opened automatically,our lips touching, slidingtogether like silk on silk. Iclosed my eyes, thesensations overwhelming,settingeveryinchofmyskinalight. I wanted the momenttolastforever,tostretchitoutlikecotton,softandwillowy,

andwrapitaroundmylifeasaneternalblanket.

But it seemed that nomatterhowstrongourfaithineachotherwas,wewere stillvictims of bad luck and illtiming.We never have enough

time.The sound of the door

opening reached us, madeworse by the sound of a

throatclearing.“Um, sorry you guys,”

Paul said from the doorway.“Do you want me to waitoutside?”

Isighed,andforasecondIalmosttoldhimyes.ButEliwasalreadypullingaway,themomentgone.

Bad luck had struck usonceagain.

I wondered how long

beforethatbadluckstartedtofeellikefate.

12

TheOtherNightmare

Several awkward minutes

passed before the othersarrived. Paul recounted hisstoryaboutTitus’smurderforEli, which burned a littletime. Then he demonstratedthe usefulness of the shape-change necklace, whichhelpedalittlemore.Butstill,it felt like an eternity beforeSeleneandLancearrived.Atleast the latter brought hislaptopwithhim.

“This will workperfectly,”Paulsaid,crackinghisknucklesoverthelaptop’skeyboard. “I just need yourusername and password forthenetworkaccess,Dusty.”

“Why hers?” Lance said.“Won’tthatmessupmine?”

Paulshookhishead.“It’llbe its own unique account,everything separate. And Iwould prefer to use Dusty’s.

No offense, but I know herbetter.”The“I trusther”wasimpliedbuteverybodycaughtitjustthesame.

“Use mine,” Eli said. Hewas hovering near the desk,hisarmscrossedinawaythatmadethemusclesinhischeststandout.

“Why?”Paulsaid.Eli’s stare spoke louder

than words. Because I don’t

trustyou,itsaid.“Never mind.” Paul

lowered his gaze to thecomputer screen. “What isit?”

While Eli spoke theinformationaloud, therestofus pretended not to listen.Selenewastheonlyonewhopulleditoff,butonlybecauseBusterwasgivingher suchahard time. In its excitement,

the chair kept rolling side toside, bucking a little witheachchangeofdirection.Shethreatened multiple times toremove itswheels if itdidn’tstop, but so far the chairwasn’tbuyingit.

“Okay,thereweare,”Paulsaid. “Now, I’ve just got topurchase the software I needandwe’regoodtogo.Um…”Heglancedaround the room.

“Doesanybodyhaveawaytopay for this? I would offer,but I’mprettysureyoudon’twant it traceableback tome.Not to mention ex-cons arenotoriouslybroke.”

“Crap, I don’t haveanything,”Isaid.“NotunlesstheplacetakesCasterCard.”

“Doubtful,”saidPaul.“I don’t have anything

either,” Selene called from

thefarsideoftheroomwhereBuster had just whisked herto.

Smirking, Lance pulledhis wallet out of his pantspocket. “It’s all right. I gotit.” He slid out a card,seemingly at random. Ispotted a half-dozen ormorein there. “But you owe me,Everhart.”Hewinked.Areyousurethisisagood

idea? I wanted to ask him,not knowing how thingsstood between him and hisfather, butSelenewasboundto wonder at my concern. Isnickered instead. “Wouldyou like that as a personalcheckormoneyorder?”

Lance tilted his head.“What’samoneyorder?”

“Nevermind.”As Paul set to work, I

reached into my pocket andwrapped my fingers aroundthe flash drive. It waspossible Paul could salvagesome of the data, but Idoubtedmymomwouldwantme to trust him with theinformation.

“Okay,” Paul said a fewminutes later. “Thiswill takeawhile to download. But assoon as it’s done, I’ll start

working on the hack. Butdon’t expect results rightaway.Itmightbeafewdays,easily.”

“Okay,” I said, and thentakingadeepbreath,Ipulledthe flash drive out of mypocketandhelditouttohim.No,Momwouldn’twanthimtrusted with it, but I didn’thave anyone else to go towith it. And he was helping

ussaveher.Thathadtocountfor something. “Would youmindseeingwhatyoucandowiththis?”

“What’s wrong with it?”Paul said, accepting the flashdrive.

“It got rainedon.”Then Iexplainedwhatitcontained.

Paul looked intrigued anda little shocked at the news,but he slowly nodded. “I’ll

seewhatIcando.”“All right.” Eli put his

hands on his hips. “In themeantime we should startidentifying what we knowand what we need to figureout.” He strode over to thedry-erase board on the farsideoftheroom.

I watched him withhungryeyes.Thiswashow Iliked Eli best—in his private

detective mode, focused tothepointoffervency.

“So,” he said, a blackmarker in hand. “The mostimportantthingweneedtodois determine possiblesuspects.” Eli began jottingnotes down on the board.“We have to determine whoelsemight’vekilledTitus.”

“Oh,that’snotgoingtobehard at all,” said Selene as

she forcibly rolled the chairnearer to the rest of us oncemore. “Every single personwho lost a loved one atLyonshold has a motive forkillingTitusKirkwood.”

Eli licked his lips. “Iknow.Which is why insteadwe need to figure out justwho else is capable ofcommitting the crime.Valentine claims only a

Nightmare could do it. Soeither there’s anotherNightmare around here wedon’t know about, or there’ssome other way the killercould’ve gotten onto themagicallyrestrictedward.”

“What about one of theguards?” I turned to Paul.“You said they did regularfloorchecks,right?”

“Yeah, they did. I mean

theydo.”Eli glanced over his

shoulder. “Wait.Aren’t theresecuritycameras?”

Paul laughed. “Nope.They used to use them, Ithink, but they’ve beendisconnected. They’re toounreliablewith the animationeffect.”

“No kidding,” I said,remembering the dancing

camera in the interrogationroom.

Eli shook his head,bemused. He jotted “nocameras”ontheboard.

“Well,we know itwasn’tone of the guards,” Selenesaid.“NotunlessoneofthemisaNightmare.Nomagicontheward.”

“Who says he was killedwith magic?” Eli said. “The

guards could’ve killed himlike an ordinarywould have.A knife, box cutter, even arazorbladewoulddothetrickifappliedtotherightarea.”

I shivered, rememberingKatarina’ taunt about mymother. Had she chosen thatknife just because it was theonly traditional weapon onthe table? Or did she knowsomething about Titus’s

murder?Iwonderedwhatherparentsdidforaliving.

“Ifitwasaguard,”Isaid,turning to Eli, “the killercould’ve slipped into Titus’scell during the floor check,killedhim,andcamebackoutand gave the all clear. Thenallhehad todowaswait forthenextfloorchecktoreportthemurder.Or letoneof theother guards discover the

body.”“Yes, that could work,”

Eli said, biting his lip. Hewrotethewordguardsontheboard beneath the columnsuspects. He paused, staringat it, his mind working sohard I could almost hear thegears churning. Then to mysurprise, he shook his head.“No, it’sagoodtheory,butIbetwhenwegetthecasefiles

we’re going to find all theguardshavebeencleared.”

“Whydoyou say that?” Iasked.Inoticedafrayonmyjeansandstartedpickingatit.

“BecauseValentineknowswhathe’sdoing.”Eliexhaledloudly.“Theguardswould’vebeen the first people heinvestigated and cleared. Ifthekillingcouldn’thavebeenaccomplished with magic,

then the easiest solution isthatitwasaninsidejob.ButIbet they all passed the liedetector testorwhatever it ismagickind do in thatsituation.”

“The guilt test,” I said,glowering. “Valentine is aguilt demon. A Crimen, Ithinkit’scalled.”

“Wow.”Elisnorted.“Thatsounds really reliable and

effective.”“Tellmeaboutit.”Irolled

my eyes. “But wait. Couldsomeone disguised like oneoftheguardshavedoneit?”Imotioned toPaul. “Likewithone of those shape-changenecklaces? Maybe the killersnuckintothecellpretendingto be one of the guards andthen snuck out again after itwas over without the guard

ever knowing he was beingimpersonated. They wouldpasstheguilttestthen,yes?”

Paul ran a hand over hishair.“It’sanothernicetheory,but that’s exactly thekindofthing the anti-magic protectsagainst.Thesecondyoutrytowalk in therewithaglamouron,evenoneaspowerfulasashape-change necklace, thespell will break and set off

thealarms.”“Crap. Why does magic

have to make everythingmore complicated?” Elirapped his fist on the table.The computer sitting nearbylet out a startled beep. Elipulled his hand away andshoved it into his pocket,making it clear he wouldn’thit anything again. Violenceofanykindwasabadideain

room 013. The animatedobjects didn’t take it verywell.

“You’re right it does,”Paul said. “But if itwasn’t aguard, I just can’t seesomebody else pulling offthat killing without magic.Thewholeward is restricted,notjustthecellsthemselves.Idoubt the killer could’vebroken in, snuck past all the

security, and committed themurder without using magicsomewherealongtheway.”

“It might’ve been hard todo,” Eli said, his expressionturning stony, “but we can’truleoutthepossibilitythathewaskilledbyordinarymeans.Notuntilwegotaholdofthecase files and know for sure.Magickind likes to pretendordinaries can’t do anything

at all because they’re notmagical, but that’s not true.Someone clever enough,determined enough, could’vefoundaway.”

“Where there’s a will,” Isaid, clinging to the thought.Nevermindthat“clever”and“determined” described mymotherperfectly.

“Hang on a minute,”Selene said. In her

excitement,shestoodup,butright away Buster wheeledforward, striking her in theback of the knees. Shetumbledontothechairwithagrunt. I waited for thespectacletoensue,butSelenewas so focused she justignored the misbehavingchair completely. “Paul’sright that his glamournecklace wouldn’t work, but

what if the killer is a realshape-changer?”

“That’simpossible,babe,”Lance said, giving a littlelaugh. “There’s no suchthing.Notanymore.”

Selene scowled at him. Iwasn’t quite sure if it wasbecause he’d dismissed heridea or that he’d called her“babe.”My vote was on thelatter. “You don’t know that

for sure. Nobody can provethey ever went extinct. It’simpossible to proveconsidering they can shifttheirshape.”

Lancestartedtoargue,butEli cut him off, raising hishands as well as his voice.“Holdup,you two.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

Selene tore her gaze offLance and directed it at Eli.

“Shape-changersare,orwere,a typeofdarkkind.Theyhada reputation for evil—totalmayhem and destruction. Somuchsothattheirmagicwasoutlawed at the end of themagickind wars. Anyonecaught shape-changing wasputtodeath.”

“That’s a familiar tale,” Imuttered.

“Theydidoutlawit,”Paul

said, “but telling a shape-changer not to shift theirshape is like telling aNightmare not to feed ondreams.”

“But Nightmares woulddiewithoutdream-feeding,”Isaid.

“Exactly.”Selene tapped her toe

against the floor. “That wasthe whole point. Some

legends claim all the shape-changers were executedbecause they refused to stopshifting. Others claim theysimply died from magicdeprivation.”

I shuddered, feeling gut-punched by the idea, by therealityofit.Itwasthekindofawful truth I wished I coulddismiss as mere legend orevenexaggeration,butIknew

better. The severe lack ofNightmaresaroundwasproofenough that such prejudicecouldhappen.Evenworse, itwas still happening.Everywhere, it seemed. Andnotjustamongmagickind.

“But other legends saythey just went into hiding,”Selene continued. “Theshape-change isn’t detectablelike most magic. It’s more

likeaNightmare’smagic.It’spart of who they are. Ashape-changer could’vewalked right into that wardwithout setting off a singlemagic detector.” Shehesitated. “I think so,anyway. If the legends aboutthemaretrue.”

Ifoldedmyarmsovermychest. “I’m not sure thatrelying on an ancient legend

as a possible explanation isgoingtogetusanywherewithValentine. He’s more of afacts-and-evidence kind ofguy.”

“That’scertainlytrue,”Elisaid,asighinhisvoice.“Butstill,wedon’thavealottogoon. If we eliminate theimpossible, whateverremains, no matter howimprobable, must be the

truth.”“You know Sherlock

Holmeswasfictional, right?”Paulsaid.

“Yousureaboutthat?”Eliarched an eyebrow, thesarcastic gesture doing littletodisguisethehostilityonhisface.Hemightbeactingcivilwith Paul so far, butfriendliness would be a longtimecoming.Likenever.“Up

until a year ago fairies andsirens and Nightmares wereall fictional, too. To me atleast.”

“Good point,” I said, myvoice a little higher pitchedthan normal. I sensed a fightbrewing, and I wanted tohead it off. “It seems likeevery other day I discoversomething I thought wasmyth is actually true—

Atlantis, Beowulf, KingArthur.”Excalibur, I silentlyadded. Around my wrist,Bellanax tingled against myskin.

Flashing me acommiserating smile, Eliturned back to the board andwrotedownshape-changer.

“Guys,” Lance said, “wedon’thavetogosearchingforimprobableexplanations.Not

yet.”All three of us turned to

look at Lance. Even Busterseemed to shift toward him,insyncwithSelene’sgaze.

“Whatdoyoumean?”Elisaid.

“There’s anotherNightmare around, besidesDustyandhermom.”

“If you’re talking aboutBethany Grey,” I said, “you

can forget it. Valentine toldmeshe’sgonemissing,anditwasn’t a jailbreak. LadyElaine saw a vision that it’sconnected to the—” Isuddenly couldn’t speak, mylipssealedtogetherasifwithmagicalcement.

Eli grunted. “That damnnondisclosure thing. WhatDusty is trying to say is thatgiventhereasonBethanyhas

gone missing it makes her avictim,notasuspect.”

Selene harrumphed. “Ireally wish you could tell uswhat thisnondisclosure thingisallabout.”Me, too, I thought,unable

tosaythewordsaloud.“Me,too,”Elisaid.Lancewaved us off. “I’m

not talking about BethanyGrey.”

“Thenwho?”Selenefixedafiercestareonhim.

Shifting his weight fromside toside,Lancesaid,“It’sMr.Corvus.”

I tried to laugh, couldn’tquite do it with my mouthclosed, and managed asnorting sound instead like Iwastryingtobreathethroughwater. Mr. Corvus? ANightmare?Noway.

“I don’t know,” Eli said.“It’shardtopictureit.”

“Why?” Selene said, herface alight withcomprehension. “Becausehe’smale?Trustme,therearemale Nightmares around.Therehastobe.Youknow,alittle thing called survival ofthespecies.”

A suggestive grin flashedacross Lance’s face. Wisely,

he made it vanish beforeSelenenoticed.

“Yeah,okay.”Eli focusedon Lance. “But why do youthink Corvus is one? He’snevermentioneditinclass.”No kidding, I thought, I

would’ve rememberedsomethinglikethat.

“His eyes glow in thedark,”Lancesaid.

An awkward silence

descended at thisannouncement. It was truethat glow-in-the-dark eyeswere the surest sign of aNightmare,oursignatureasitwere,buthowonearthwouldLance have ever seen it? Itwasn’t like Corvus made ahabitof turning the lightsoffto teach. And I knew fromexperience that Nightmarestook measures to keep their

glowingeyeshidden.Lancebaredhis teeth ina

sarcastic smile. “It’s not asweirdasitsounds,Ipromise.Isnuckout theothernight toput some hot sauce in thetrash troll feed bins in theMenagerie—”

Selene gaped. “Why onearthwouldyoudothat?”

“Wanted to see whatwould happen to the little

bastards.Oneof thembitmyshoetheotherdayinbioandnearly escaped with a toe.”He shrugged. “I figured theymight stop being so inclinedto bite if they got a taste ofsomethinghot.”

Isnorted.“Thathasgottobe the worst prank you’veever come up with.” A halfsecond later, I realized thenondisclosurespellhadletgo

of its hold on my tongue.“Thank goodness,” I said,pattingmymouth.

“Welcomeback,”Elisaid.Lance grinned in my

direction.“Imighthavebettersuccesswithmypranksifyougotbackinthegame.”

“Come on, you two,”Selene said. “Don’t getstarted.”

Lance sniffed. “Fine. The

point is, I saw Corvuswalking outside theMenagerie.Itwasreallydark,butI’msureitwashim.”

“Ifitwasdark,howcouldyoutell?”Iasked.

“Are you kidding?” Hislips twisted upward in asmirk. “There aren’t a lot ofpeople on campus with onlyoneeye.Trynone.”

“Oh.” As soon as he said

it, I realized it made perfectsense.Itwasincontrovertible.Glowing eyes meantNightmare. Glowing singleeyemeantCorvus.

“Wow,” said Eli. “I can’tbelieve we never figured itoutbeforenow.”

“Yeah, but do you reallythink he’s involved?” saidPaul.“Whatmotivewouldhehaveforkillingmyuncle?”

“Who can say?” said Eli.“Theremight be any numberofreasons.”

“Especially if he’sconnected to Marrow,” Iadded. I stood up, unable tostaystillas thoughts tumbledthroughmymind.“Valentineand Lady Elaine seem tothinkthatallofthismightberelated to Marrow. BothTitus’s murder and the thing

that Eli and I aren’t allowedto talk about. And withMarrow involved, Corvusmight have any number ofreasons for killing Titus.Maybe it was a cover-up.Remember how we thoughtCorvuswasinvolvedwiththeattackonLyonshold?”

“That’sright,”Elisaid.Helooked on the verge ofpacing. “Me andDustywere

snooping through Corvus’soffice when Titus kidnappedus. Titus said he’d buggedourdream-session,butmaybethatwasalie.MaybeCorvusknew we’d broken in andtippedhimoff.”

I nodded, scrambling torecallallthedetails.Ithadn’tbeenallthatlongago,alittleover three months, but somuch had happened after

Titus captured us. “Wesuspected Corvus becausethere were ravens in Eli’sdreams,” I said, thinkingaloud.

“And he owned theAtlantean Chronicle,” addedEli. “He’s an historian. Wenever did figure out howTituslearnedthespelltosinkLyonshold. Maybe Corvustoldhim.”

“That’s possible,” Selenesaid, bobbing her head inagreement. “And he mightnot have known what Tituswasplanningwhenhehandedover the information at first.But then after the attack, hecould have decided to killhimtosavehisownneck.”

I frowned. Was Corvuscapableofsomethingsocoldand calculating as executing

Titus Kirkwood to protecthimself? The short answerwas—maybe. It wasn’t thathe was cruel or unkind. Hedidn’t even strike me asvindictive.No, theword thatalwaysseemedtocometomymind to describe him wasimperialistic. Authoritarian.He ruled his classroom withabsolute power, and thatsense of dominancy

permeated everything abouthim. He reminded me of ageneral in a war movie, thekind of man capable ofmaking decisions that heknew would cost lives, butthat he calculated would beworthitinthelongrun.Whatkindofapersoncan

do that? I thought, sacrificereal lives like chess pieces?Onlyithappenedallthetime.

Wars were fought amongordinaries across the worldeveryday.

Shaking off the shiversliding down my spine, IglancedatEli.“Andthethirdreasonwesuspectedhimwasbecause of that symbol. Theone with the three rings allconnected.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Eliturned toward the dry-erase

board and drew the symbol.Whenhefinished,hesteppedback, giving us all a clearview.

I examined the symbol, apeculiar feeling goingthrough me. Mostly, Isuspected, it was because ofall the bad memories thatcamewithit.IglancedatEli.“Didn’tyouaskCorvuswhatitmeantafterward?”

He ran a hand over hisbuzzed head, nodding. “Hecalled it the Borromeancircle. Said itwas an archaicmagickind symbol of unity.Each ring represents a kind.One for witchkind, one fornaturekind, and one fordarkkind.”Hepointedtoeachinturn.

“So something less thandiabolical, in other words,”

Paulsaid.I nodded, but inside I

wasn’tsosure.Only the blood of the

twelvecanundothecircle.The odd phrase came

sailingatme fromoutof theblue.ForamomentIcouldn’trememberwhereI’dheard it,butthenitcametome.ItwasthelineCorvushadmademetranslate out of one of his

ancient books as part of mydetention with him last year.AdepictionoftheBorromeancircleshadbeeninthatbook,too.Andwhilethesymbolismof the Borromean circlesmight be positive, thatsentence certainly wasn’t. Itsounded like a way ofbreaking the circles,shattering that unity—perhaps in the same way

TitusKirkwoodhadhopedtostartanewmagickindwarbysinking Lyonshold andmaking the naturekinds lookresponsibleforit.

“Well,” said Selene, “thesymbolmightnotbeevil,butthat doesn’t mean Corvuswasn’t involved. Doesanybodyknowifhewasevenat Lyonshold that day? Iknow I didn’t see him. He

should’ve been there though.All the teachers werechaperoning.”

Eli twisted the markerthrough his fingertips, hismouth hanging slightly openas he contemplated thepossibility. “We won’t knowanything for certain until wetake a closer look at whathe’sbeenup to.But I’vegottoguessthatValentineknows

he’s a Nightmare and hasgottenhisalibialready.”

I clucked my tongue indismay. “He certainly gaveme the impression that therewas someone other than me,Bethany, and my momrunningaroundhere.”

“Yes, and I would thinkhe’dhavetodisclosehiskindto school officials, at aminimum,” said Lance. We

all turned to stare at him,surprised by his suddencontribution.Itwasn’tthathewasdumb,quitetheopposite.Lancewas absurdly clever—anddevious—buthewasalsoperpetually bored anddisinterested. It was strangeto hear him talk with suchenthusiasm.

“Yeah,theyprobablydo,”Elisaid,recoveringfirst.“But

I don’t think we shouldeliminate him as a possiblesuspect. Not yet. He’s ourbestleadsofar.”

“And he could’ve liedabouthisalibi,”Paulsaid.

“What about the guilttest?”askedSelene.

I scoffed. “Valentinesuspected my mother fromthe beginning. I doubt hetried all that hard to read

Corvus’sguilt.”“Or maybe Corvus is

pathologicalanddoesn’thaveany guilt about committingmurder,”Lancesaid.“HeisaNight—” Lance cut himselfoff before finishing thesentence, but that didn’t stopSelene from standing up andpunching him hard in theshoulder. Buster followed itup with a full frontal attack,

whackingLance in thekneeswithitsseat.

Lancewinced,andcuppedhis hand over his arm, as iftrying to squeeze the hurtaway. “Ouch. But yeah, Ideserved that.” He cast asheepish smile in mydirection. “Sorry,Dusty.Oldhabits and all.” The wordswere light, but for once hesaid them straight, no joking

orunderlyingderision.I clenched my teeth,

uncertain how to react,whether to be angry orpleased. On the one hand, itwasn’t thefirst timeI’dbeenfacedwiththestereotypethatNightmareswerebornevil.Intruth, it was one I’d worriedabout from time to timemyself. I was often hauntedby the possibility that there

wassomethingfundamentallyevil about my nature,especially whenever Iscrewed up and didsomething stupid.But on theother hand, Lance hadapologized—sincerely. If hecouldchange,well,thatwasabigenoughmiracleforme.

“It’sall right,” I said,andfor once I spoke to himstraight, too—no snide or

sarcasminsight.Eli cleared his throat. I

hadasuspicionhewastryingnot togrinabout theDisney-moment breakthrough LanceandIjusthad.“Anyway,soitlooks like our first order ofbusiness is to investigateCorvus.”

Inodded.“Butweneedtobeextracarefulthistime.”

“No argument there.” Eli

wrote Corvus’s name on theboard.

I stared at it, a weightsinkingthroughmychestanddown into my stomach.Corvus was a Nightmare.Like me. Like my mother.LikeBethany.Fourofus,theonly four I’d ever met orknewanythingabout.Andofthose four, Bethany was acondemned criminal and my

mother suspected of murder.AsmuchasIwascertainshehadn’tkilledTitus,Icouldn’tclaim that she was entirelyinnocenteither.Mymomhadskirtedthelineofthelaw,theline of rightness, her wholelife.

And then there was me.Most times I wanted tobelieve I was good, alwaysinclinedtodotherightthing.

But I’d attacked Katarina.Was that really just becauseof Bellanax? Or was itbecause of something in mynature?

Therewas no answer, noteven from the sword, whichseemedtohavegonecoldandlifeless as it lay in itsglamoured form around mywrist.Please let us be wrong, I

thought, looking at Corvus’snameon thedry-eraseboard.Please let the guilty beanybody else except aNightmare.

13

CellBlockB

Bollingercame togetme for

mydreamsessionwithElithefollowingnight.Shepoundedon the door hard enough tomaketheposterboardsonthewallshakeandthreatentofalloff. I jumped up from mychair, startled by the noise. Imust have dozed off.After afruitless day trying to learnmore about Corvus, I’d beenresearching Nightmares. ButasIexpected,therewerevery

few ways to determine if apersonwasone.

Bollinger pounded again.“Come on,Destiny Everhart.You’regoingtobelate.”

“Holdon,”Ishoutedback,scrambling to reapply theglamouronBellanax.

“Iwouldthink,”Bollingersaid as I opened the door,“that someone as into herboyfriendasyouclaimwould

bemoreeagertogetthereontime.”

I folded my arms,Bellanax already going hotagainst my skin. With aneffort, I held back a scathingreply.

“Let’s go.” Bollingerheadeddownthehallwaynotbothering tomakesure Iwasfollowing. Not that Iwould’ve considered staying

here even for a second.Bollinger or no, Eli waswaiting.

On the long walk overthere, Imadeplansofwhat Iwould say and do—namelygreeting him with a kiss themomentIsteppedthroughthedoor. Forget Bollinger. Shecouldn’tstopusfromkissing.

Eagerly, I climbed up thestairs to Eli’s dorm. When

she pushed the door open, Istepped forward, expectingher to wave me inside first,butshewentinaheadofme.Ihad just long enough to spotEli already stretched out onthe sofa, when Bollingerwaved her wand and said,“Hupno-drasi.”

The spell struckhimdeadcenter in the chest. His eyessnapped closed, and he

slumped against the sofa, hisheadlollingtooneside.

“Why did you do that?”Outrage pulsed so hardthroughmeIstartedtoshake.Bellanax became a hot ironagainst my wrist. Theincantationofacurse rose inmymind.AllIhadtodowassayit.No, I thought as much to

Bellanax as tomyself.Beads

of sweat broke out on mytempleatthestruggletokeeptheswordglamoured.

“No time to waste,”Bollinger said, turning to sitdown in thechairnearest thedoor. “I have duties waitingas soon as this is over. Soplease, get on with it.” Shemotioned toward Eli’s pronebody.

Iforcedmyangertocalm.

It wasn’t wise to bring thatintothedream.Highemotionon my part could skew thedream—and Eli and I had alot to explore and discovertonight.

Takingabreathandlettingitoutslowly,IclimbedontopofEli.Hewas deeply asleepand already dreaming, hiseyes shifting back and forthbeneathhislidsandthefictus

comingoff him like a sweet,irresistible scent. Still, I heldoff entering the dream longenough to lean forward andpressmy lips tohis. Itwasasmall intimacy, but it wasbetter than nothing. Onceinside the dream, wewouldn’t be able to touch atall.

I closed my eyes,sloughedoffmymortalbody,

and descended into thedream. As always, the worldswirled around me in anexplosion of color andsensations,a thrillingdescentinto a place of unknownpossibilities. I could arriveanywhere, no landscape toofarfetchedorimpossibletobemaderealbythepowerofthedream.

Butwhentheworldfinally

formed around me, I foundmyself in a very familiarplace—the schoolgymnasium. Well that’s justdisappointing. I turned in acircle to take in the scene.Climbing structures andbarricades,ofthesortthatweused regularly inphys ed forcombativemagic study,werescattered over the yellowwood floor from onewall of

bleachers to the other. Thesesame structures were alsousedingladiatorgames.

Which was exactly whatwasgoingonaroundmerightnow.Morethanadozenboysroamed the floor, in betweenand over the structures. Ididn’trecognizeanyofthem,thanks to the protective gearthey wore, including beetle-like black helmets. But

nevertheless,Icouldtell theywereallboys.

“What’s thedeal?” I said,handsonhips.Didthismeanthat there weren’t any girlstrying out for the gladiatorteam? Or was Eli’ssubconscious a playgroundfor repressed sexism. I votedontheformerandresolvedtoaskhimaboutitonceIfoundhim among the chaos of

flyingspells.I launchedmyself intothe

air, employing my favoritedream-walking pastime—flying. In seconds Iwasnearthe ceiling, the game floorspread out before me like agiantchessboard,eachplayereasily visible now. Inseconds,IspottedEli.Hewasin the far corner, crouchedbehind a short square

structure. I couldn’t exactlysay how I knew it was him,given thehelmet. Itmight’vebeen intuition, or perhaps hewas just more physicallypresentthantheotherplayers.This dream was his party,afterall.

Ilandedafewfeetinfrontof him. “Hey,” I said. “Areyoureadytogetgoing?”

He didn’t reply or even

turnhishelmetedheadinmydirection.

“Eli,” I said again. “EarthtoEli!”

Again, he ignored me. Asecondlater,hedartedaroundthecornerofthestructureandthrew a dazing curse at anincoming opponent. Hepassed so close to me that Ileaped back, missing acollisionbyinches.

I shouted his name for athirdtime.Butonceagain,heignored me. No, I realized,not ignoring me—he’s justtoo deep in the dream. Ithadn’t happened in a longtime—normally Eli wasaware of my presence themoment I got here—but forwhateverreason,hisattentionwas completely captured bythisdream.

“I’m really sorry aboutthis,” I said, and then Ireached out with myNightmaremagic,caughthimby the arms like a puppet onstrings,andliftedhimintotheair.

“What the hell?” Hetwisted around, his legsthrashing for a second. Thenfinally he turned toward mewhere I hovered in the air

besidehim.“Dusty?”“That’s right. Are you

readytogetgoingorwhat?”He pulled off his helmet.

“Crap, this is a dream, isn’tit?”

I nodded and slowlylowered us both to theground.

“Sorry,” he said, asheepish smile crossing hisface. “I must’ve been

distracted.”“No kidding.” I grinned

and motioned to the gym.“Don’tyougetenoughofthiseverydayalready?”

“What?”Hewinked. “It’sfun. And you know I can’tcontrol the content of mydreams.That’syourjob.”

“Right you are. I guess Ishould get on it then.Whereshouldwegofirst?”

“Let’s try the policedepartment,” Eli said.“You’ve been there oftenenough to re-create it, right?Maybewe’llbeable toget alookat thewardwhereTituswaskilled.”

“I’llgiveitago.”“Good, but do you mind

givingmeawardrobechangefirst?” Eli said, motioning tohisgladiatorgear.

I raised a suggestiveeyebrow. “Would you preferyourbirthdaysuit?”

Hegrinnedbackatmeandtookastepnearer,ourbodiesonly a few dangerous inchesaway from touching. “I’mgameifyouare.”

A blush heated my skin,burning from the top of myhairline all the way down tomy toes. For a second, I

almost considered doing it,butno.Itwouldbetoogreatatease. Besides, Iwouldn’t beconfident enough to showhim my true naked body. Inthisdreamworld, Iwouldbetempted to present a falselyperfect body—skin tannedand blemish-free, a stomachlean and flat,minus the littlepouch just below my bellybutton.

But I didn’t want to giveElialie.Iwantedtogivehimme as I truly am, and havehim accept me for it, not bedisappointed by a dream-world expectation I couldnevermatchinreallife.

“Maybenexttime,”Isaid,givinga little laugh that rangfalse tomyears. “Likewhenwe’re actually able to domore than look.” I waved at

him,willinghisgladiatorgearto vanish and his usual jeansandT-shirttotakeitsplace.

“It’s a promise,” Eli said,smoothing down his newclothes.

Hiswordssentaprickleofanticipation dancing overmyskin.Isavoredthefeelingfora moment, and then closedmyeyesandconcentratedonchanging the dream. I

pictured theRushas I’dseenitlast,themaincathedral-likeroomwithitshaphazardrowsof desks and clutter. Thedream resisted the change atfirst, like it always did, butslowly I felt the substanceofit give way, bending towardmyvisionandwill.

“Wow,goodjob,”Elisaidafewmomentslater.

I opened my eyes and

understoodthecomplimentatonce. Sometimes when I setthe scene of a dream, theresult was an in-betweenthing, close to real but notquite,asurrealblendof truthand imagination. This time,however, I was nearly spot-on. The only thing off aboutthe scene was the lack ofpolicemen. I doubted theRush was ever so empty.

Evenmorestrangewasalltheindicators that peopleshould’ve been there—acoffee cup with steam stillrising from its surface setatop a file cabinet, a half-eatendoughnutonadesk,theredjellyinitsmiddlestillwetandoozing.Therewasevenalit pipe laying on a littlewooden stand, smoketricklingupfromoneend.

Then again, perhaps mymagic hadn’t worked soperfectly. I doubted anykindof smokingwas permitted inthe Rush. Too manynaturekinds were allergic tothefumesofburningplants.

“Which way should wego?”Elisaid,lookingaround.

“I’mprettysuretheprisonis thatway.” I pointed aheadat a set of double doors. To

the left of them ran thehallwaywiththeinterrogationroom. Offices filled thehallwayontheright.

Eli headed that direction,and I stepped into placebeside him, being sure tokeep an abnormally widedistancebetweenus.The lastthing I wanted was to getejectedfromthedreamearly.Bollingerwouldnodoubtcall

anendtothesession.Thedoubledoors led to a

wide corridor lined withwindowsthatlookedoutonalawn and an artfularrangement of flower beds.They were the kindmaintained by naturekinds,theplants largeandvibrantlycolored, a painting right outof a fairy tale. Brightsunshine poured through the

glass, making the airpleasantlywarm.

On the other end of thecorridor was another set ofdouble doors, these madewith iron bars. Eli tried thelock on it, but it wouldn’tgive.

“Letme,” I said. Iwavedmy hand over the lock andwilled it to open. The dreamobeyed easily, and we

steppedthrough.We arrived in a short

hallway, dim and cramped.Ahead was a glass door andtotheleftandrighttwomoreirongates.Above theoneonthe leftwas a sign that read:WESTCELLBLOCK.Totherightwas the East Cellblock.Peering through the bars, Isaw a wide corridor linedwithprisoncellsoneachside.

The sight sent a shiverdownmy arms, and a sense ofclaustrophobia began tosqueezemychest.

“Let’s try in here first,”Eli said, striding over to theglass door.He opened it andwe stepped inside. Areception desk filled the firsthalf of the room. Behind itwassomekindofobservationpost. TV monitors lined the

walls on three sides, stackedfromthedeskstotheceiling.Microphones, switchboards,andotherequipmentclutteredthe topsof thedesks.All theequipmentlookedancient,thekind of stuff you saw in oldmovies from the ’60s aboutthe space race. If this reallywas the typeofequipment inthe Rush, no wonder theanimation effect was so bad.

Thisstuffhadbeenabsorbingmagic and electromagneticfieldsforyears.

“This must be centralcontrol,” Eli said, walkingpast the reception desktowardthemonitors.

I followed him, butstoppedasIspottedamassivebook sitting open behind thedesk.Iwalkedovertoit,andin seconds realized it was a

prisoner’slog.“Eli,lookatthis.”Heturnedandcameback.

“Huh. Do you think there’srealinformationinthere?”

“Maybe.” Anything waspossible inside a dream,especially if this one helddream-seerpowerinit.Therewasnowaytotell,butIhadafeeling it did. The details sofar were too good for there

nottobesomethingbiggeratwork.

“Let’s find out.” Elistarted leafing through thepages. Moments later hetapped his finger against thebook. “Got it. It says TitusKirkwood was being held incellB-Three.”

Mypulsequickenedatourgood fortune, and Eli and Ileft the control room and

headed for the WestCellblock. Once again, I hadtowillthelockstoopen.Themoment I stepped inside,vertigostruckmeandIfroze.The cellblock was six tiershigh with narrow platformsset at the base of each tier.Stacked in rowed columns,the tinycells lining thewallsreminded me of uprightcoffins.Theplacehadacave-

like feel, windowless anddark.Throughthebarsofthenearestcells Isawruststainson the walls. Chips andcracks marred the concretefloors as if the prisoners hadtriedtoclawtheirwayfree.Asick feeling struck mystomachatthethoughtofmymother spending her days inthisplace.Shewouldgomad.Anyonewould.

“W-One, W-Two,” Elisaid as he scanned the smallplaques on the front of thecells. “Huh, itmust be just astraightcount.”Heleanedhishead back, trying to get alookatthesecondtier.

“Holdon. Igot it.” I flewinto the air, rising up highenough to see the labels onthe second level. “You’reright.Itjustkeepsgoingup.”

Iloweredmyselfbackdown.“Let’scheckout theother

cellblock.”I nodded, but could

alreadyguessthatitwouldbelabeled with an “E” not a“B.”

My suspicions provedright.TheEastCellblockwasa mirror image of the west,theonlynoticeabledifferencethelabelingonthedoors.

“There’sanothercellblockthisway,I think,”Elisaidaswe left the East Cellblock.Theshorthallway in frontofthecommandcenterwrappedaround on both sides of theEast and West blocks. Wefollowed the hallway andsoon came to a set of irongates labeled: CENTRAL

CELLBLOCK.“Whatdoyouwant tobet

thesearelabeledC?”Isaidaswesteppedin.

Eli didn’t answer. I wasright, of course, which webothsawatonce,butitdidn’tmatter.TheCentralCellblockwasnotamirrormatchtotheothers. A few feet down thecorridor lay an iron gate setinto the floor. Icy fingersstroked thebackofmyneck.Itcouldbeadoorway tohell

oranoubliettefilledwiththedead, decaying bodies ofprisonersthrowndownintoitandforgotten.

“Think B stands forbasement?”Elisaid.

I swallowed, trying tomustermycourage.Evenifitdidn’t,Iknewweweregoingdownthere.

Wordlessly, Eli strodeforwardandliftedthegateby

the thick handle. Unlike theother irongates in thisplace,this one wasn’t latched. Heheaded down first, and Ifollowed after him. A foul,damp stench hung in the airasIdescended.Icoveredmynosewithmyhandandforcedmy breathing to go shallow.The walls were damp andslimy. Cool air wrappedaround my face and bare

arms.Thedarknessgrewthicker

with each step until I couldno longer see Eli in front ofme.“Holdonasec,”Icalled.

Iheardmorethansawhimstopandlookbackatme.

I closed my eyes andwilledus two flashlights intoexistence.The dreamhandedthemovereasily,almostasifitwaseagerforustoseewhat

waitedbelow.Iflippedoneofthe flashlights on,accidentallyblindingEliforasecond, and then I handed itovertohim.

We continued on for alongtime,thedescentseveralstories down, it seemed.Finally, we arrived at thebottomfloor.Itwastruedarkdown here, no light at allexceptwhatwebroughtwith

us. All I could see from myvantage point was that thewalls were made of a darkredbrick, the color of driedblood.

“You don’t really thinkthey keep prisoners downhere, do you?” I said, tryingtolookpastEli.

“Ithinktheycertainlydo.”He stepped farther down thepassageway, far enough for

me to see thebarreddooronthe leftwith a plaque on thefront that readB1. It openedontoaprisoncellsonarrowIwouldn’thavebeenabletoliecrossways inside it. It wascompletely empty except fora blackened, ancient pillowand a urinal pot in the farcorner. My stomachwrenched at the sight of it,andIpulledmygazeaway.

“Lookslikewefoundit,”Isaid.

Elinoddedandmovedon.Unlike the cellblock above,downherethecellslinedonlythe one wall, the othernothing but blank redbrick.Except, I realized as weheaded farther down, forshackles dangling out fromthe bricks at intervals. Theywere set so high that anyone

locked into them wouldn’thave been able to touch thefloor.Isupposedthatwasthepoint.

“B-Three,” Eli announcedas we reached the third cell.“Oh, God, Dusty, don’tlook.” He turned his headaway.

For a second I almostlistened,butmycuriositywastoopowerful.Justadream, I

told myself as I peered in,nothing here I can’t changeby—

Agaspclimbedmythroatand came out a scream. Ichokeditoffatonce,becausethe thing inside the cell hadheard. It was a giant,slithering thing, scaly inpatterned stripes of black,yellow,andred.Forasecond,my mind resisted the word

snake.Notbecauseofitssize,notbecauseofthetoo-aware,intelligent look in its blackeyes.

But because it was in theprocessof swallowingamanwhole.

14

Doppelgänger

Hewasdeadalreadyat least.

That much I could tell. Theman’s legs and waist werealready gone down thesnake’s gullet, but his headlolledside tosideagainst thebrick floor, themovement inperfect harmony with thesnake’sundulatingbody.

Iturnedaway,gagging.“It’s Titus,” Eli said, a

horrified awe making hisvoice higher pitched than

normal. Despite his warningto me, he’d already lookedback and was now watchingthescenewith the samekindofterrifiedentrancementIfelttuggingmygazebacktoitaswell.

Reminding myself thiswas just a dream, I focusedon the man’s face. It wasTitus,allright.HiswasafaceI would never forget. “Can

youtellhowhedied?”Isaid.“Idon’tthinkso.”Elitook

a step nearer the door. Iwould’ve shouted at him tostay put, but the iron barsweretoocloselyknittogetherforthesnaketopassthrough.Not tomention that it was alittle preoccupied at themoment.“There’renovisiblemarks on his neck or chest.He could’ve died of a heart

attackforallIknow.”I stared at the snake once

more, right into those inky,beadedeyes.Theyseemed tobe watching me with anunsettling keenness, as if itknew just how much itbothered me to be watchingthis. “He could’ve died offright.”

Eli looked over at me.“Thesnake’sjustasymbol.I

doubt it’s even supposed tobe a magical snake, exceptforitssize.”

Ipriedmyeyesawayfromthe creature long enough toshoot Eli a puzzled look.“Howdoyoufigure?”

He pointed. “See thecolored stripes? That’s anEastern Coral Snake. I’veseensomebefore,onhuntingtrips with my dad down to

Mississippi. They’re reallypoisonous,butnotmagical.”

“Let’s move on,” I said,turning away from the snakeandTitus.Ididn’twanttoseeanymore.Anddreamornot,Iwasn’tabouttoopenthatcelldoor for a closer look. Theidea of snakes and theirsymbolismwassomethingwecould investigate outside ofhere. Somewhere safe, like

theInternet.“All right.” Eli backed

away slowly as if the snakemight strike if he stoppedwatchingit.

I moved on to the nextcell. “I wonder which onethey were keeping Bethanyin.”

As soon as I said it thedoor to the last cell swungopen. I flinched at the loud

creak it made. I stopped andwaited, braced for whateverwasinsidetoappear.Anothersnakeperhaps—orsomethingworse.

Severalsecondslater,oritmighthavebeenaminute,Elisaid, “I think we have to godownthere.”Hesteppedpastme, once more leading theway. And once again I wasokay with letting him.

Normally,snakesdidn’tscareme that much, but I had afeeling that would bedifferent from now on. Atleast it hadn’t been giantbugs. That would’ve leftpsychologicalscarssodeepImightneverrecover.

The second I thoughtabout giant killer bugs, Ipushed the idea away beforethedreamgotanyideas.

Eli paused outside theentrance to the last cell. Icametoahaltbesidehimandpeered in. Instead of a cellthere was a narrowpassageway,onedeepenoughwe couldn’t see where it ledbeforethedarknessclosedin.A feeling of déjà vu struckme.Thebricksendedrightatthe edge of the other cells,giving way to stone. From

there, the passageway slopeddownward.

“It looks like an Arkwelltunnel,”Elisaid.

“ItisanArkwelltunnel.”Istepped through the doorwayinto it. “At least it feels likeone.” I concentrated hard,tryingtomaketheconnectionbetween my sense offamiliarity and a directmemory. “Wait.” I reached

out and touched the stonewall.“Thisremindsmeofthetunnel that led down toNimue’stomb.”

“You’reright,itdoes.”Elitouchedthewall,too,grazinghis palm over the roughsurface. “But I doubt thistunnel exists in the realRush.”

“Me, too.” Even if thelikelihoodwasn’tsodoubtful,

the feel of the dream wasindication enough. It hadchanged the moment Isteppedinsidethetunnel.Theworld became lesssubstantial, less real, as if atany moment it might comeapartattheseams.

The farther along wewalked, the more I began tosuspect this was the exactsametunnelthathadledusto

the tomb of my ancestorNimue, to Bellanax, andultimately the showdownwith Marrow. Finally, Ispotted proof of it when wearrivedatasmalldoor.

“We’ve definitely beenhere before,” Eli said, anironicnote tohisvoice.“Butwhy would the dream bringus back here? It makes nosense. That chamber was

emptiedoutafterwedefeatedMarrow.”

I smirked. “You meanthat’swhattheysaidtheydidwith it afterward. But I’venever been back to check,haveyou?”

Heshookhishead.The only thing I was

certain about was thatNimue’s tomb aswell as herbody had been buried in

Coleville Cemetery atArkwell. My mother and Ihadattendedtheceremony.

The small door stoodopen, inviting us in. Ihunched down to avoidscrapingmybackontheroofandsteppedthroughit.WhenI reached the other side, Istood up, fully prepared tosee a massive chamber litwith torches that burned

purple fire. Instead I foundmyself standing on the shoreofariver.Ormaybealake.Itwas impossible to tell in themurkydarkness,hanginglikecurtainsovertheblackwater.The smell of brine and rotburnedmynose.

I looked up and saw wewere still underground, in amassive cavern, the roofpierced with stalactites like

jutted, misshapen swords.Ahead, a narrow, decrepitdock perched out over thewater.Tetherednexttoitwasa boat, the same low-sidedpleasurebargefromEli’slastdream. A funeral barge, youmean. I swallowed as myeyes fixed on the raisedplatform at the center of theboatwithitsbillowing,gauzycurtains.

“It’s the same one,” Elisaid from beside me. Worrythreaded his voice. It wasn’tjustbecauseofthedeadbodywe’d seen the last time, Iknew. No, the worry had todowith the frequency of thething. This was only oursecond dream together andalready we were seeing thesame ominous signs again.Normally, a repeat of dream

symbolsmeant thatwhateverwas coming was comingsoon.Butneverbeforehadithappenedsoquicklyforus.

“Theyshouldn’thavekeptus apart all summer.” Iglanced at him. “I bet yourdream has been trying towarn us about the Death’sHeart and Bethany’sdisappearanceandallofitforweeks now.We just weren’t

togethertoreadthesigns.”Eli ran a hand over his

head,his expressionhaunted.“Maybe. Which means webetter step it up now.” Heoffered me a brave smile.“Ready to go see what’s intherethistime?”

I inhaled a sharp, quickbreath.“Sounds likeablast.”But he was right. This wasthe heart of the dream, the

deepest level. I could tell bythewaymyskintingledwiththesubtlepresenceofmagic.

Elisteppeddownontothebarge first. I followed afterhim,holdingmyhandsoutatmy sides as I adjusted to thefeel of the shifting floor. Asecond later, thebargebegantomove.Iglancedbehindmeto see the ropes that hadmoored it to the dock were

gone. The boat slid quicklythrough the black water, andin moments the shorelinegrew distant. We weremoving impossibly fast. Asbefore there was no winddrivingusforward.Novisiblecurrent. And no oars orferrymaneither.

Silently, Eli and Iapproached the platform andpulledbackthecurtains.

“Oh,” I said, my voicebreathless with shock. Thestrange round bed with theouroborosframewasgone.InitsplacestoodNimue’stomb.It was exactly as Irememberedit,madeofsomekind of crystal and engravedononesidewithanelaboratebattlescene.

I stepped nearer the tomband peered down on the

scene, my flashlight settingthe crystal surface aglow.Two armies convergedaround three larger figures inthe center, awomanand twomen. One of themen lay onthe ground with a swordprotruding from his chest. Istooped to takeabetter look.The sword, I realized, wasBellanax. I hadn’t known itthe first time I saw this

engraving,butIknewitnow.As if in confirmation, thesilver band around my wristbegantowarm.

Theotherman stoodwiththe woman just behind him,her hands cupped over hiseyes, and he seemed to befalling down. Into sleep, Irealized. Because this wasMarrow and Nimue depictedhere. Dream-seers, lovers,

andultimatelyenemies.“Does it look different

than you remember?” Elisaid, stooping down besideme.

Ishookmyhead.“Exactlythe same.” I reached out andtouched the figureofNimue,running my finger over thesmooth edges of the carving.“This is the moment NimuelockedMarrowinadream,”I

said. For several hundredyears, the Red Warlock hadslept, trapped in Nimue’sspell.Itwastheonlywayshecould think of to keep himfromspreadinghisevil.Withhisblackphoenixfamiliar,hecouldn’t be killed, notpermanently. But he couldsleepforever.Until someone broke him

out.Istoodup.Butwho?

“Iwonderhowshedidit,”Elisaid.

I blinked and lookedoverathim.“Whatdoyoumean?”

“Howshetrappedhiminadream. Is it something allNightmares can do? Couldyou do that to me?” Ahumorless smile crestedEli’slipsthenfellaway.

“Don’t be absurd,” I said,but my tone wavered. The

truth was I didn’t know if itwas absurd or not. Maybe itwas something I could do.Therewasalotofmagicthathad been lost after themagickind wars and theBlack Magic Purge. Maybetrapping someone inside aneternalsleepwasoneofthosethings. I wouldn’t know.When it came to being aNightmare, most of what I

knew and understood I haddiscoveredonmyown.

“Shall we open it?” Elisaiditlikeaquestion,butwebothknewitwasn’t.

Together, we placed ourhands against the lid andpushed—hard. Too hard itseemed,asthelidslippedofffast and crashed against thebottom of the boat with aloud,wetthump.

Eliwinced.“Ithoughtthatwas going to be moredifficult.”

“Me, too.” It had beenimpossible the last time wesawthistombinadream.

I peered over the side,feelingmybreathcatchinmythroat and my heart rattleagainstmyribcage.Itwasn’tNimue lying in the tomb thistime, but my mother. She

didn’t look dead, not as mybody had in the last dreamwhen it lay in this place.Insteadshelookedasleep,butalsopaleandsickly.Shewaslying on her back with armsfoldedacrossherchest.Inherhand she held the shaft of ascythe.Thelongcurvedbladerested across her rightshoulder.

“Why is she holding

that?” I said. I didn’t expectan answer, but I heard Elidrawbreathbesideme.

“Thescythe is thesymboloftheGrimReaper,”hesaid.“At least in the ordinaryversionofthemyth.”

I swallowed. The GrimReaper. As in thepersonification of death.Steeling my courage, Istretchedmy hand toward it.

The moment my fingersgrazed the metal surface, asurge like electricity pulsedout from the shield. It sentboth Eli and I sailingbackward,landinginaheap.Igroaned,thepainrealdespiteitsdreamorigin.

“What thehellwas that?”Elisaid,sittingup.

“Magic,” I replied. I stillfelt the tingle of it burning

overmyskin.“Let’s not do that again.”

He wiped away blood fromwherehe’dbittenhislipashefell.

“Agreed,”Isaid.But there was no need.

Whenwegot toour feet andapproached the tomb, Moiraandthescytheweregone.Eliand I were lying inside itinstead, two doppelgänger

bodies posed toward eachother, forehead to forehead,armstoarms.Welookedlikea sculptor’s rendering ofRomeo and Juliet, the finalactoftragicromance.

NeitherElinor I spokeaswetookinthesightofus.Welookedsoreal,soentirelylikeourselves. I wondered if IcouldtouchthisEliwithinthedream, but I knew I didn’t

want to. His skin would becold, icy, and lifeless. Weweren’t asleep like Moira.We were dead. The longer Istared, themore I realized it.Our cheeks were colorlessand sunken. A deep darkbruisecrestedmyforehead.Aline of blood encircled Eli’sthroat.

“What is that we’reholding between us?” Eli

said.Thetrembleinhisvoicewas slight but present. Iwinced,hearingit.Andforanawful moment I consideredmanipulating the dream,erasing this vision forsomething better, a future Iwanted instead of this illomen. But I didn’t do it.Therewastoomuchatstake.

I stared at our cuppedhands, fingertips pressed to

fingertips. But not palm topalm. Something black andweirdly shaped blocked theway.“It’stheDeath’sHeart,”Iwhispered.

Before my eyes, the skinon my doppelgänger’s facebegan to draw in on itself,creases forming like paperbeingcrumpledbyafist.Hereyesbegantosinkbackward,disappearing into the sockets

as theboneof theskullgrewmorepronounced.

But beside mydoppelgänger, Eli’s took onflesh and color. His chestbegan tomove up and downasheslowlyreturnedtolife.

“No,”Elisaidfrombesideme. “This isn’t real and it’snever going to happen.” Heleaned forward and grabbedthe Death’s Heart from

between our doppelgängers’fingers.As he started to pullit away, his doppelgänger’seyesflashedopen.Theywerewrong.Jaggedyellowslitsforirises stood out against allblack. His lips spread apart,revealing fanged teeth and aforkedtongue.

ThedoppelgängergrabbedEli’s wrist, its movement asquick as a whip crack. Eli

yanked back, but thedoppelgänger held fast,fingerspinching.Shakingoffmy paralysis, I lungedforward, grabbed thedoppelgänger’s armand triedto pry him off. Its skin washot and slick, scaly like asnake’s.

“Let go!” I screamed atthewrongEli. It hadn’t evenseemed to notice me before,

its entire focus centered ontherealEli,butnowitsheadswung my way. Its tongueslid out, and I cringed back,butdidn’tletgo.

Finally, with ourcombined strength, Eli brokefree. He skidded backward,the Death’s Heart stillclutchedinhishand.Ibackedaway, too, resisting the urgetorun.Therewasnowhereto

goonthisbarge,nowherebutoutofthedream.ButIdidn’twant to leave. Not yet. EliandIneededmoretime.

Side by side we retreatedfromthedoppelgängerEli asit climbed out of the tomb.Only climbing wasn’t theright word—it slithered.Before my eyes, its featuresturned waxy and began toblur.Itwasthesameaswhen

Paulputontheshape-changenecklace.Only the blurrinessdidn’t stop at thedoppelgänger’s face. Itextended outward, obscuringits whole body. The nose,mouth, and eyes of a humanboy elongated into thefeatures of a snake. Skinbecamescales; shoulders andchest became extended ribcage.

As the change completed,thegiantcoralsnakefromthebasement cellblock was nowhereonthebarge.

“Get out of here, Dusty,”Eli said. “Leave the dreamandwakemeup.”

I swallowed, still notready to leave. A wink ofsilver caught my eye, and Istared down at Bellanax onmy wrist. I could kill the

snake, I realized. Taking offitsheadwouldbeeasy.Only,the snake had been Eli amoment before, a version ofhim if not the real thing.What would happen after Ikilled it? Would it shape-change back into Eli’sdoppelgänger? The thoughtturned my stomach—andmadeupmymind.

“All right,” I said. “I’m

going.”Eli nodded, his eyes still

fixed on the snake. “Do itfast.”

I didn’t respond, just shutmy eyes and willed myselfout of the dream. When Ireturned tomybodyand fullconsciousness, I grabbed Eliby the arms and gave him ashake.“Wakeup!”

He didn’t respond, his

eyes still doing that fastrhythmic sweep from side toside.The sleeping spell. I

wrenchedmygazebehindmeand onto Bollinger. She haddozed off and was lyingawkwardly to one side. Icouldn’t believe the noise ofmy return hadn’t woken heryet.Ineededherawake,onlyI couldn’t be sure shewould

undo the sleeping spell. Shehadn’tlasttime.

Beneath me, Eli’s bodyclenched and his mouthopenedinasneerofpainandhorror.

“Eli,” I said, shaking himharder.“Wakeup.”

But it was no good. Thespell lay too heavy on him,and I had no idea how toperformthecounter-spell.

What was happening inthe dream? Was the snakehurting Eli? If it were anormal dream, I wouldn’tworry,butthepropheticonesweredifferent. I’d oncebeenattacked by Marrow’s blackphoenix inside a dream andthe wound it gave me hadfollowedmeoutofit.

Close to panic now Iturned, ready to wake

Bollinger and force her toundo the spell.But thenpainseared around my wrist—Bellanax awake and pressingforcontrol.

I grabbed the silver band,slid it off my wrist, anddisengagedtheglamour.Freeof the spell, Bellanax wasstronger and more present,easier to control. I fought tostayinchargeofmymind.

Tell me the spell, Ithought, my concentrationcentered on the sword inmyhands.Teachme.Showme.

For a moment, Bellanaxresisted. It seemed to rearuplike a wild horse trying tobreak free of its lead. Butthen it settled and theresistance reversed. Thewordsofthespellflowedintomymind.

“Ou-hupno,”Isaid.ItwasasifI’dcastthecounter-spella thousand times. Themagiccameeasily.ItsweptoverEli,dragginghimawake.

His eyes opened, and hepeeredupatme,slackjawed.Realizing the picture I mustbepresenting as I stoodoverhim with naked sword inhand, I stepped back andreappliedtheglamour.

“Welcome back,” I said,sliding the bracelet onto mywristoncemore.

He sat up and wiped hisforeheadwiththebackofhishand. “Took you longenough.”

“It wasn’t easy,” I said,and glanced down at thebracelet then back again.“What happened? Did thesnakehurtyou?”

Eli slowly nodded, and Inoticedhowgreenhelooked.A tremble went through hisbody.“Itkilledme,Dusty. Itswallowedmewhole.”

15

Alibis

The following Wednesday,

Paul finallymanaged tohackintoDeverell’sfiles.Igotthetext just as I arrived back atthedormafteranotherdream-sessionwithEli.Thelasttwohad been much less eventfulthan the snake dream. OnMondaywe visited the Rushagain,onlytofinditempty—no snake, Titus, or anythingelse.Tonightwe’dvisitedthebarge again, but it, too, was

empty. Nimue’s tomb hadbeen replaced with theouroborosbed, but therewasnoonelyingonitthistime.Icouldn’t explain the suddendropinthedreams’intensity,butIwouldtakeit.

It took me a full fiveminutes to translate the textusing the cipher Paul hadgivenmethemorningbefore.It was a code of his own

design and so complicated itmade my head swim withawe. Sometimes hisintelligence was a bit scary.WhenIfinisheditread:

Ihavethefiles.Volunteertogettheburnkittomorrowinclass.Itwillbemissing.

I frowned down at thescreen. Burn kit? Ms. Millerhad said that we would startstudying fire salamanderstomorrow. I knew the lizardshad a habit of randomlybursting into flames, but sheassureduswewouldbe fine.Then again, she’d promisedthat the azbans would provedocile and lovable, too, butmyfingerstillachedfromthe

not-yet-healed bite on myrighthand.

Painstakingly using thecipher, I managed to typeback:

Howdoyouknowwewillneedaburnkit?

A couple of minutespassed before my phone

buzzedagain.

Firesalamanders,someonewillgetburned.Justmakesureitisn’tyou.

Icaughtmyselfsmilingatthat and then went back tosleep.

***

“Paul has the files,” Iannounced toEliatbreakfastthenextmorning.

He stopped mid-chew,swallowed, and then smiled.“That’s great. When do wegetit?”

“I’ll get it during bio. Hehas a plan for me to sneakawayforasecondandpickitup.”

“Oh.” Eli’s eyes dropped

tohisplate.“Well,becarefulanddon’tgetcaught.”

Eachpoliteword soundedlike it cost him. I sighed,hating to cause him worry.We’d seen Paul a couple oftimessincethatfirstmeeting,but so far Eli’s attitudetoward him hadn’t softenedonebit. I hada feeling someof it was because of theanxiety dreams still plaguing

him. There hadn’t been anysign of either of our deadbodies in the last dream-sessions, but his normaldreamswereadifferentstory.I’d started the unfortunatehabitofaskinghimabouthisdreams every morning,hoping each time he wouldsmile and say they’d beenpleasant.Butsofarnoluck.

EvenworsewasthatIwas

starting to have them moreoften, too. I was doing mybest not to think about it—and I hadn’t spoken a wordabout them to Eli either.What was the point? All itwoulddowasprovidefoddertomakehisworse.

When I arrived at theMenagerie for bio, therewasno sign of creepy-beardedPaul. And despite his

prediction, the first thirtyminutes of class passedwithout incident. The firesalamanders were caged in aseparate area from the trashtrolls, a grassy, tree-filledspacewithseveralpondsandvarious water features.Actually, minus the lizardsroaming the place, itwould’ve been beautiful.Maybe evenwith the lizards.

Aside from the way theirtongues kept shooting in andoutoftheirmouths,theywerekindofpretty.

Until one of the smallerones exploded right in CarlaPetermeier’s palm. Sheshrieked and threw thecreature halfway across thecage. It crashed into one ofthe ponds with a loud plop.The fae water lilies nearby

immediately closed up, theirpink and yellow petalsquivering as they scrunchedtogether.

“Itburnedme!”Carlawasholdingherhandout in frontof her, the thick leathergloves still smoking. For asecond,Ithoughtshewasjustplaying drama queen, then Irealized it was moreoverreaction. She had gotten

burned,acoupleofangryreddotsformedonherforearm.

“Stopyourshouting,”Ms.Miller said, storming over.“Doyouwantall of them tostartexplodingrightnow?”

For a second, I thoughtshe was going to smackCarla,andIcouldn’thelpbutfeel a stab of disappointmentwhenallshedidwaspeeloffthe glove.Katarina had been

back in class since Monday,andsheandCarlahadstartedan aggressive taunt-Dusty-every-second campaign.Well, everywhere except forpsionics, that was. Mr.Deverellhadmadeusallsignthe Student ConductAgreement last week.Katarinahadbeen livid—andmaking up for lost timewherevershecould.

“Someone bring me theburn kit off the equipmentcart,”Ms.Millersaid.Crap, I thought, realizing

this was my moment, andstupid me, I hadn’t stayednearthecart.Lookinglikeananxious idiot, I leaped intoaction and raced over to thecart, bumping at least twoofmyclassmatesoutoftheway.Igottherefirst,examinedthe

cart for half a second, andthen announced, “It’s nothere, Ms. Miller. I can runbacktotheclassroomandgetit.”

“Yes, all right,” Ms.Millersaid.

Ignoring the peculiarlooks,Iturnedandboltedoutof the cage. Let them thinkwhat they wanted. Heck,maybeCarlawouldassume I

was trying to make amendsand tell Katarina about it. Iwouldn’t say no to a cease-fire.Not that itwas likely tohappen; Katarina neverbackeddown.

A few minutes later, Iarrivedbackintheclassroom.“Paul?” I called, not seeinghim anywhere. Aside fromthecloset,therewasnowhereforhimtohide,notunlesshe

had a spell of invisibility inhis arsenal. Where was he?Clenching my teeth infrustration, I went to thecloset and searched theshelvesfortheburnkit,butitwasn’t there. Of course, itwasn’t. Paul had stolen it atsome point to make thiswork.

I spun on my heel, readyto search the hallway and

crashed intoPaulashecamethroughthedoor.“Ouch.Yousteppedonmyfoot.”

“Sorry.” He wrapped hishand around my arm. “Areyouokay?”

“Yes.”Ipulledawayfromhim. “I was worried youweren’tgoingtoshowup.”

He grimaced, the gesturemostly obscured by his thickbeard. He reached up and

pulled off the shape-changenecklace.Hiscreepybearded-man features blurred backinto Paul. “I almost wasn’t.Problem down in the dragoncaves.”

“Dragoncaves?”“Yeah, there’s a whole

network of them beneath theMenagerie.”

“Therearedragonca—”Istopped, shook my head.

“Never mind. Do you havethefiles?I’vegottogetbacktoclass.”

“Yeah,Ido.”Paulreachedintohispocketandwithdrewaflashdrive.Isawatonceitwas the one my mother hadgivenme. “I’m sorry,Dusty,but nothing on this wassalvageable.” He handed itover.

“Bummer,” I said,

unsurprised but stilldisappointed.

“But there’s a lot on thisone.” Paul pulled a secondflash drive out of his pocketandgave it tomeaswell. “Iwas up half the night goingover it. You’re not going tobelieve this, but … I thinkCorvus might’ve killed myuncle.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked,

taken aback by the suddenassertion.

Paul glanced over hisshoulder as if to make surewe were still alone.“Detective Valentineinterviewed him, and hedoesn’t have an alibi for thenightTituswaskilled.Claimshe was at home by himselfthewholetime.”

My heartbeat began to

quicken, a steady thump-thump-thump against my ribcage. I didn’t want aNightmaretobeguiltyof thecrime,butIwouldtakeitifitmeant getting my motherfree.“Valentinesaidmymomdidn’thaveanalibi.IfCorvusdidn’t either, why didValentine mark him off thelistofsuspects?”

“Well, theDNA evidence

for one thing.” Paul sighed,histoneregretful.“AndIhateto say it but it looks prettyconvincing. I don’t know alotaboutthatstuff,butitwashardnottobeimpressed.”

I gritted my teeth, hatingthe doubt in his voice. “If itreally was my mom whocame onto the ward thatnight, it’s possible that’swhere the DNA came from.

It’sjustcircumstantial.”Paulraisedhishands.“I’m

with you. I know your momdidn’t do this, but I’m justsaying the case against herlooksbad.”

Ifoldedmyarmsovermychest and stuck outmy chin.“What else convincedValentine that Corvus isinnocent?”

“The guilt thing, like you

said. Valentine noted thatCorvus’s guilt didn’t spike asingle degree.That’s a directquote.”

My nostrils flared as Iinhaled, my temper on therise. Bellanax burned againstmywrist.“Isthatall?”

Paul shook his head.“Valentine couldn’t find amotiveforhimeither.There’sa background check on

Corvus,but it’s thin. It’s liketheguyhasdonenothingbutteach school for the lasttwentyyears.He’sneverbeenmarried, no kids. And nocriminal record. He’s nevereven had so much as aspeedingticket”

“Huh…Iwonderhowhelosthiseye.”Itseemedtomethe result of some kind ofviolence, given the scarring

around it, visible despite theeyepatch.

“Idon’tknow.”Paulranahand over the stubble on hisface. “His records only wentback those twenty years. Itdidn’t even have a date ofbirthoranything.”

“That’s weird.” I lookeddownandnoticedtheburnkittucked beneath Paul’s arm.“But I’ve got to get back to

class.”“Right.”Paulhandedover

the kit. “Before you go, I’vegot an idea on how we caninvestigateCorvus.”

I glanced at the door,getting nervous about mylongabsence.“How?”

“Well,neitheryounorEliare going to get awaywith alot of sneaking around thisyear,notwiththeWillGuard

tailingyoureverymove.”I scowled, my hands

tightening into fists.The twoflash drives pressed againstmypalm.Hewasrightaboutthat. The Will Guard haddogged us every step, fromour evening homeworksessions to our Dream Teammeetingsinthelibrary.

“What if I can get you ashape-change necklace like

mine?”Paulsaid.My mouth fell open. A

hundred questions dartedthrough my mind, but Icouldn’t seem to snatch onelongenoughtoaskit.

“Eliwon’tlikeit,Iknow,”Paulpressedon.“But I thinkit’s our best shot. I can onlyget my hands on one, but Idon’twanttogiveittohim.Itwouldn’t work. He doesn’t

trust me enough, andinvestigatingCorvus isgoingtobeatwo-manjob.”

“Why a two-man job?” Iasked.“Allittakesisakeytogetintohisoffice,andIknowhow to get it.” At least, Ihoped I did. Last year I’dbeen able to convince theschool janitor, Mr.Culpepper, to let Eli andmein. I’d spotted Culpepper

onceortwicesofarthisyear,andeachtimehe’dcastmeaveryfaint,hardlytheresmile.But for Culpepper that waspracticallyahug.

“I’mnottalkingaboutjusthis office,” Paul said. “Weneed to break into his home.Andgetthis,it’soffcampus.”

“That doesn’t makesense.”

“I know. Pretty much

every other teacher lives oncampus,butnotCorvus.He’srenting a house off CanalStreet.”

“Weird.”“Youmeansuspicious.”Ifrowned.An exasperated look

crossed Paul’s face. “Don’tyou see? By having a houseoffcampus,there’snowayoftracinghisactivitythatnight.

Or any other night for thatmatter.Everyvehicle leavingcampus and coming onto itgets recorded, standardsecurity.Buthewould’veleftArkwell at like five that dayand could’ve goneanywhere.”

I slowly nodded, catchingon. “So if he did live oncampus, the police could’vefigured out when he left and

came back, but not in thiscase.”

“Right,” Paul said. “Itgiveshimalotofanonymity.Solongashecomesandgoesaboutthesametimeeachday,nobody would question it.”He hesitated then blew out abreath.“Marrowdidthesamething when he was teachinghere.”

Iwincedat thename,and

even more at the reminderthat Paul had once beenMarrow’s supporter. Theenormityofwhathe’dknownandhadlethappenstruckmeanew, and I shook my head.“Idon’tknow,Paul.I’llhavetothinkaboutit.”

“Oh.”Hurt flashed acrosshis face before he hid itbehind a falsely pleasantsmile. “I understand. Just let

me know. I’m still going togetit.Ifyoudecideyou’rein,we’llneed to take some timeforyoutopracticewearingit.It’s hard to be someone elseat first.You don’t have yourprivate lessons with Mr.Deverellthisweek,right?”

“Right,” I saidautomatically. Deverell hadbeen out sick since Tuesday.“Howdoyouknowaboutmy

lessonswithDeverell?”“You mentioned it to Eli

the other day. I overheard.”Paulsmiledagain,thistimeitwasn’t false. “I promise I’mnot spying on you if that’swhatyou’rethinking.”

Itwas, but Iwasn’t aboutto admit it now. “Okay, butsowhataboutmylessons?”

“Ifhe’sstillouttomorrow,wecanmeetupandI’llshow

youhowtouseit,”Paulsaid.I nodded. It really was

tempting.Even if I didn’t gosnooping Corvus’s off-campus house with Paul, Istillcouldusethenecklace.Itwouldmakea lotof thingsawhole lot easier—likesecretlymeetingupwithEli.

I exhaled, glanced at theclock, and nearly shrieked.“I’ve got to go. I’ll think

aboutit.Probablyyes,butI’lltextyouforsure.”

“All right,”Paulsaid,andI could detect the hopefulnoteinhisvoice.

Its presence gave mepause. I stopped in thedoorway and turned around,narrowing my eyes at him.“Why are you being sohelpful with all of this? Imean, if you get caught, it’ll

bebigtrouble,right?”“Yes.” His expression

turned grave for a moment,thenheshookitoff.“Butit’sworththerisk.”

“Why?” I pressed, eyesstillnarrowed.

He glanced away amoment, then met myexpressionheadon.“BecauseIcareaboutyou,Dusty.AndIknowhowharditwillbeon

you if your mom is foundguilty. I’ll dowhatever I cantoprotectyoufromthat.”

I swallowed, a cocktail ofsudden unnamable emotionschurning in my stomach. Iturnedand left theclassroomwithoutreplying.

***

Ididn’ttellEliatlunchaboutPaul’s offer to get me a

shape-change necklace. IdecidedtowaituntilI’dmadeupmymindwhattodo.

“Did youget it?”Eli saidas soon as he arrived at thetable.

Itappedmypocket.“Flashdrive.”

“Good. We need to diveintoitrightaway.”

Inodded.“I’mgoingtogothrough it while you’re at

gladiator training. Deverell’soutagaintoday.”

“Oh.” Eli’s look wasalmost comicallydisappointed, like a puppybeing put in its cage for anap.

“You don’t mind, doyou?” I said. “I’ve come tothelasttwo,andyou’redoinggreat.”

He grinned. It was a true

enough statement. Hecertainly wasn’t the bestplayer out there, but hewasn’t the worst either. Andconsidering how much lesstime and experience he hadcompared to the others, thatwasquiteanaccomplishment.“I don’t mind you not beingthere,”hesaid.“I justwish Icould skip and go through itwithyou.”

I smiled, trying not toignore my owndisappointmentthathewasn’tgoing to skip. But tryoutswere coming a week fromSaturday, and Iknewhewastooanxioustoeaseoffnow.

It seemed Lance wasgetting anxious, too, becausehe asked Selene not to cometo practice tonight either.“Youmakemedistracted,”he

said, planting a kiss on herforehead.

Sherolledhereyes.“Howare you going to handle itwhen I try out for the teamthen?”

Lancecluckedhis tongue.“Ha,ha.Veryfunny.”

Selenegavehimalooktocut ice. I stared at her, browfurrowed. Shewasn’t joking.Iknewherwellenoughtosee

that.Lanceclearlydidn’t—orwas choosing willfulignorance—as he plantedanother kiss onher forehead.“Seeyouatdinner.”

Isaidgood-byetoEliandthen made plans to meet upwith Selene after classes inroom 013. She’d offered tohelp me go throughValentine’s files even beforeLanceaskedhernottocome.

“So,”Isaidasweroundedthecornerintotheroomlaterthat day, “you’re trying outfor the team?” The questionhad been bugging me sincelunch. Icouldn’tquiteacceptthatshereallymeantit.

She rolled her shoulders,notmeetingmyeyes.Mostlythis was because Buster hadcommanded her attention themomentweentered.

I setmybackpackononeof the desks. “Why are you?You’ve never expressed anyinterestintheteambefore.”

SelenesatdownonBusterand crossed one leg over theother. “Actually, I’ve alwayswanted to play. I justwasn’tmotivated togo throughwithituntilIrealizedtherewasn’tgoing to be a single girl ontheteamthisyear.”

I beamed at her. “You’remyhero.”

“Heroine,” she correctedme.“Andyoushouldtryout,too.We’llkillthem.”

I snorted. “I’m notinterested in public ridiculeand disaster, thank you.” Ipulled out Paul’s flash drivefrommy pocket and pluggeditintothecomputer.

“I think you’re just afraid

you might be great at it,”Selene said, rolling Busterovertogetabetterlookatthescreen.

I sat down and beganpulling off some of the files,saving them to the desktopfor the time being. Oncedone,Iejectedtheflashdriveand moved to anothercomputer while Selene tookmyplacebehindthefirstone.

Fortunately, the files onthe drive were labeled bysubject and not somethingless convenient like date. I’dgiven Selene a couple offolders with names I didn’trecognizebutcouldguesshadbeen suspects at one point.The three folders Iwasmostinterested in, I kept formyself: Moira Everhart, IanCorvus,andTitusKirkwood.

I started with the latterone, not quite ready to facethestuffontheothertwojustyet. In minutes I discoveredthat Titus had indeed beenkilled by ordinary means.According to the autopsyreport, he died from a singlestab wound to the chest thatpierced his heart. Death hadbeen instantaneous. Anexecution, according to

Valentine’s note. The crimescene technicians estimatedthe knife to be six inches inlength with a serrated blademade from a human femurbone.

I read this detail threetimes before I was finallyable to accept it as real. Itappearedasmallpieceof theblade had broken off whenthe killerwrenched it free of

Titus’s rib cage.Shivering atthe idea of how much itwould’ve hurt and how hardit would’ve been to do, Iresisted an impulse to de-glamour Bellanax andexamine the hilt. It too wasmade of bone, but it waspolishedsmooth,comfortableto touch and hold. But thenagain I could easily imaginesomeonecarving thematerial

intosomethingsharp.Aknifewithaboneblade.

My mother owned no suchthing. Not that I had everseen. And how would sheeven get one? Surelysomething made from ahumanfemurbonewasn’tanobject you could order offeBay.Itsoundedlikeablackmagic item. She could’vegottenitfromCulpepper.The

realization increased thechillspreading over my skin.Especially when I readValentine’s note below theknife’s description—findingitiscrucial.

Yes it was. The smokinggun. It would be the key togetting my mom off this.Assuming, that was,Valentine hadn’t alreadyfoundit.Itwasaguaranteehe

hadn’t told me everythingabout the case against her inourshortinterview.

Withdreadnowpulsinginmy temples, I opened mymother’s file and began toscan through it. In seconds Icameacrossthedetailsofheralibi. Like Mr. Corvus sheclaimed to have been homeall night—watching myunconscious daughter, the

transcriptread.Icouldalmosthearhersayingit,facedrawnin anger, teeth flashing. Mymomwasfierceonanygivenday, but doubly so when itcametome.

Iswalloweddownguilt.Itwasmy fault shedidn’thavean alibi. If only I’d beenawake by then. But it didn’tmatternow.Whatdidwasthepresence of her DNA on

Titus’s body. How did it getthere? I scanned the rest ofthe transcript and saw thatValentinehadaskedthesamequestion.

MOIRA: How should Iknow? Perhaps thoseordinarieswhoran thetest are idiots andmade a mistake. Orperhaps you are the

idiot who collected itwrong.OrmaybeIjustmakeaneasytargetfortherealkiller.VALENTINE: There’s noreason to be hostile.This is just aninterview.MOIRA: The hell it is.Thisisawitchhunt.

I winced as I read it.My

momwasusuallymorecleverthan this, less prone toemotional outbursts. Beneaththe last line of dialogue,Valentine had written a noteabout Moira’s “visibleagitation” and her “clearlyspikingguilt.”

Fighting back a growingsense of despair, I scannedthe rest of the files until Icame to an inventory of the

“itemsofnote”thepolicehadcollected from my mother’shouse. The knife wasn’tthere.

Satisfied at least by asmalldegree,IclickedonMr.Corvus’sfolderandglimpsedthe contents. Paul had beenright about the skimpybackground check. Actually,thewhole thingwas skimpy.Aside from transcripts of the

oneinterview,therewaslittleelseinthere.Thatwas,untilInoticed the part of thebackground check that listed“Distinguishing PhysicalCharacteristics.” Themissingeye was mentioned, ofcourse,aswellasatreetattooon his right shoulder. Thatwas a weird idea—a teacherhaving a tattoo, especiallyoneasoldasMr.Corvus.

But the finalcharacteristicsgavemepauseand set my teeth on edge.Corvus had a scar over hisbreastbone that had been“madebyabrand”accordingtothenote.Abrand?Atfirst,I couldn’t make sense of it,butthenIclickedonalinktoa photo and realized theywere talking about a brandlike the kind used to mark

livestock.Thepictureshowedaman’sbarechest.Onitwasa puckered, red scar shapedliketheBorromeanrings.

Once again those strangewordshe’dmademetranslatecame tome—Only the bloodof the twelve can undo thecircle. Was it related to theBorromean rings? They’dbeen pictured on the samepage.

I scanned the rest of thefile, looking for someclarifying remark, somethingto explainwhy amanwouldwillingly brand himself witha hot iron. Unless it wasunwilling.Ishuddered.

But the file containednothing else of note. And IrealizedthatdespiteCorvus’slack of a verifiable alibi,Valentine hadn’t gone

throughhishousethewayhehadmymother’s.

Which meant Paul wasright—we needed to gothroughit.

“What’s wrong, Dusty?”Selene called from the othercomputer.

I turned toward her,running my fingers throughtheloosehairofmyponytail,yanking at the snags just to

keep my hands occupiedwhile my mind churned.“Paul thinks Corvus isresponsible, and I’m startingto agree with him.” Imotioned toward mycomputer screen, and thenfilled her in on Corvus’snonexistent alibi, the houseoffcampus,andfinallyPaul’soffer of the shape-changenecklace.

Silence descended as Ifinished speaking. Selenedidn’t react outwardly at allwhile she processedeverything I’d just toldher. Iresistedtheurgetobreakthatsilence as long as I could—abouttenseconds.

“What do you think?Should Ido it?Eliwill freakout if I say yes. I guess Icouldalwaysjustnottellhim

but—” I bit my lip before Istartedbabblinginearnest.

Selene cleared her throat.“I think you should do whatyoudecidetodoregardlessofwhatanyoneelsethinks.Andyes, you should tell Eli, butdon’t let him stop you. Youare your own boss. No oneelse.”

Iinhaled,feelingathrillofexhilaration at the idea. It

seemed so opposite of myreality. Every momentsomeone else was makingdecisions for me—when toeat,where to be,what to do,what not to do. I let mybreath out slowly. “WhataboutPaul?Doyouthinkit’ssafetotrusthim?”

There was another longmoment of silence, and thistime I managed not to break

it.FinallySelenesaid,“Itrustyoutobeabletotakecareofyourself,nomatterwhatPaulmight be up to. Especiallywith that sword you’recarrying. I wasn’t kiddingthat youwouldmake a greatgladiator.”

I laughed, the soundcoming out a snort thanks tomynerves.“Notachance.”

Selene shrugged. “Suit

yourself.Buttheyhavesmallteammatchesyouknow, twoon two. We’d make a greatteam. The boys wouldn’tstandachance.”

Laughing again, I turnedbacktothescreen.Myhumorquickly faded, givingway todetermination. I would takePaulupontheoffer.Wehadto get into that house andlookaround. I clickedon the

Titus folder again, scrollingdown until I came across apictureof theknife.Iclickedonit,feelingexhilaratedonceagain. We needed to searchthehouse,andIknewexactlywhatwewerelookingfor.

16

HereBeDragons

IheldofftellingEliaboutmy

decision until lunch the nextday.Hedidnottakeitwell.

“Please tell me you’rejoking,Dusty,”hesaid,aforkgripped tight in his hand. Ihadafeelinghewasthinkingabout stabbing someonewithit. Thank goodness Paulwasn’taround.

I took a deep breath,trying not to overreact. Iknew he would see reason,

oncehegotpasthisworryforme. “I’m not. It’s a goodplan.Andwedon’thavealotof options with the WillGuard breathing down ournecks. Sneaking off campuswould be impossible withoutashape-changenecklace.”

“Wecouldget aweekendpass.”

I offered him a patientsmile. “We don’t have time.

They don’t start approvingthoseuntilnextmonth.”

“What about the tunnels?Isn’t that howyourmomgotoncampus?”Elipressed.

“Well,yeah,butwedon’tknowtheway,wedon’thavea boat, and even if wemanaged to get out onto thelake, how do we get toCorvus’s house without acar? It could be miles and

miles, and it’s not likethere’recabsoneverycorner.This is Chickery not NewYork.”

Eli’sjawworkedbackandforth, muscles quivering inhis temple, cheek, and neck.“Fine. Then he can give methe shape-change necklace,and I’ll go with Paul toinvestigateCorvus.”

I shook my head. “Paul

alreadysaidnotothat.”“He what?” Eli’s

expression darkened evenmore.

I shifted in my seat,completely understanding hisreaction but being powerlessto change anything. “Hedoesn’t think it would be agoodideaforittobeyouandhim. You don’t play nicetogether.”

Eli snorted, the sounddangerous, akin to a wildanimal growling. “Justbecause I don’t like himdoesn’t mean I would dosomething stupid and get uscaught.”

“I know that, but I can’tmake Paul do something hedoesn’twantto.”

Eli grunted. “He’s justlooking for an excuse to be

alonewithyou.”Isighed.“Maybe,buthe’s

theonetakingthebiggestriskin all of this. If I get caughtit’llbea slapon thewrist. Ifhedoes…”

“I get it.” A grimexpression crossed his face.Eliglancedtohisright,whereLancewaslisteninginonourargument with palpableinterest. Next to me, I

suspected the same fromSelene, although she wasdoingabetterjobathidingit.

Eli ran a hand over hishead.“Canwetalkaboutthisoutside?” He smiled at theothers.“Nooffense,guys.”

Lance slappedhimon theback. “None taken. Wish Icould keep every argumentprivate, too.Makesforbettermaking up options

afterward.”Selene shot him a dirty

look, but Eli was alreadystanding up, motioning formetofollow.

Wedumpedour traysandthen headed out into thehallway.Itwasmostlyempty,except for a Will Guardstandingatthejunctureofthenearest hallway. Eli tookmeby thearmandguidedme in

theoppositedirection,justfarenough to let us talkwithoutbeing overheard, but not sofar that the Will Guard feltinclined tomove inandpushusapart.

Eli faced me. We werestanding close enough I hadtoleanmyheadbackto lookupathim.

“Look, Dusty, I knowyou’re inclined to think the

bestofPaul,andIknowyouthink I’m inclined to alwaysthink the worst, but you’vegot tobelievemewhenIsayyou need to be careful abouthim.”

Iclosedmyeyes,justlongenough to composemyself. Ididn’t want to sounddefensive.“Whydoyouthinkso?Thistime,Imean.”

Eli bit his lip, released it

again. “It’s just, how canwebe sure that Paul wasn’tinvolvedinwhathappenedtoTitus?”

A laugh burst from mychest.“That’sabsurd.”

“Is it?” Eli leaned back,increasing the distancebetween our gazes. Then heleanedforwardandtookholdof my shoulders. “Thinkabout it, Dusty. Paul was

there, on the basementward,same time as Titus—by hisownadmission.Andwebothknow that he had reason tokill his uncle. More thananybody else, after all thoseyearsofabuse.”

I flinched.Themotivationwascertainly true,scarilyso.I closed my eyes and shookthefeelingoff.Motiveornotthat didn’t make him the

killer.ImetEli’sgaze.“Paulwas locked up. You sawthose cells. How could hehavegottenout to do it?Weknowhe’snotaNightmare.”

“No,he’sasiren,”Elishotback at once, as if he’d hadthisvolleypreparedaheadoftime. “What if one of theguards took interest?What ifone of them was a woman?One willing to leave his cell

unlockedforhim.”Right away I remembered

some of the names inValentine’s files. There haddefinitelybeen femalenameson the list. And similar to aNightmare’s power, thesiren’s ability to mesmerizecouldn’t be completelyblockedbyanti-magicspells.

I jerked my gaze awayfrom Eli, staring at some

random spot on the floor. Ididn’t want to believe it. Iwasn’tsureIcouldbelieveit,butIknewIcouldn’tdiscountiteither.Notthistime.

I turned back to Eli.“Look, I promise I’ll becareful.Iwon’ttakeanythinghesaysatfacevalue.I’mnotgoingtogettrickedthistime.But—” I raised my hand tohis lips, silencing a protest.

“I’vegottodowhateverIcantohelpmymom.AndifPaulis responsible for Titus’sdeath,thenspendingthistimewith him will give me achance to investigate him,too.”

Mystomachtwistedattheidea. Not because I wasopposed to spying on him,butbecauseifitturnedouttobe true, then that meant

Paul’soffer tohelphadbeenabout misdirection from thebeginning. Just an attempt tokeeptheguiltfromshiningonhim.

To the detriment of mymother.

I clenched my teeth andbreathed in deep. Exhaling, Isaid,“Iknowyou’reworried,but he won’t get the upperhand with me ever again.” I

raised my left arm, showinghimBellanax.

Eli exhaled, and I sensedthe fight ease in him. “I amworried,Dusty.Aboutalotofthings.” He hesitated andglanced at the Will Guard.The man had moved closer,but was still out of hearingrange.Eli turnedback tome.“But you’re right. This isaboutyourmotherandwe’ve

gottodowhat’sbestforher.”I leaned up on my tippy

toes and kissed him. “Thankyou.”

His answering kiss wasjust a little bit cold, like theshift toward night at the endofanearlysummerday.

Itleftmechilledforhoursafterward. So did hiswarningsaboutPaul.When Itexted Paul last night,

agreeing to his plan, he toldmetovolunteertohelpoutatthe Menagerie after class. Iwasn’t wild about the idea.Ms. Miller had mentionedvolunteer opportunities onceor twice in class, but so farthoseopportunitiesseemedtoconsist of shoveling trollmanure or removing thecobwebs in the jackalopecages.Funtimes.

Fortunately, when Ireported for volunteer duty,Ms.Miller sentme tooneofthe classrooms to clean thedry-eraseboards.

“That’s all?” I said,archingoneeyebrow.

Ms.Miller didn’t look upfrom the sprite she heldclutched in one hand. In theother she was preparing toclip its wings with a pair of

surgical shears. The spritewas humanoid but with afeline face, sharp pointedteeth like thumbtacks,currently bared in protest atMs.Miller.Its tinybodywasshifting colors, yellow togreen to pink to purple. Iswallowedasurgeofpityforthelittlecreature.Iwantedtoask why Ms. Miller wasclipping its wings, but I

didn’t have time for thetwenty-minute lecture thatwould probably accompanytheanswer.

Finally, Ms. Millerglanced up. “Yes. You haveto prove your reliabilitywithsimple tasks before you areallowed the responsibility ofhandlinganylivingcreatures,plant or animal, in theMenagerie.”

Holding back a reply, Iheadedtotheclassroomshe’dindicated.IsentPaulatextonthe way with just the roomnumber. I didn’t have theencoder with me and hopedhe would understand by thenumberalone.

It seemed he did—ormaybe he’d known myassignment ahead of time—becausehewaswaitinginthe

classroomwhenIarrived.Hewas wearing his creepybearded-man disguise, but Iwasstarting togetused to it.When he smiled at me, Icould see Paul behind thosestranger’seyes.

“Hey,thanksforcoming.”“No, thank you,” I said,

my answering smile alreadyfragile. Somuch risk hewastaking to help me. Why? I

pushed the question to thebackofmymind—fornow.Ineeded to learn this shape-changestuff.

“Come on,” he said. “Weneedtogosomewhereprivateforthis.”

“Okay.” I managed tosoundnormal,butmyinsideswere shaking. Goinganywhere private with Paulwould’ve made me nervous

even before Eli had pointedout thedarkerpossibilitiesofhis sudden reappearance inmylife.

We headed out of theclassroom, made a left andthen another left, toward therearofthebuilding.Whenwearrivedatthebackdoor,Paulpushed it open andmotionedme through. I stepped outonto a narrow walkway

running between theadministration building andthe outer wall of theMenagerie.

Paul joinedme amomentlater, pulling the door shutbehindhim.“Weshouldn’tbeseen back here. Hardlyanybodycomesthisway.”Hestarted walking, headingdeeper into the Menagerie. Ifollowedsilentlybehindhim.

Althoughhehadn’ttoldmetostay quiet, there was aclandestine feel to ourjourney up and down thenarrow alleys. Whenever heheard someone nearby, hewould stop andwait,makingsure the coast was clearbeforemovingon.

Finally, we arrived at along rectangular buildingwith a low, flat ceiling. The

place looked abandoned. Itleanedtoonesideasifithadaspirations toward fallingover.Alargesignpostedoverthedoorread:

WARNINGKEEPOUT

RISKOFDEATHANDDISMEMBERMENT

“What is this place?” Iasked as Paul stepped up to

the door and slid a key, oneofatleastadozenhehadonalargechain,intothelock.

He smiled. “Just ignorethesigns.”

I bit my lip. Ignoring thesignsneverturnedoutwellinmy experience. “But what isit?”

Paulpushedthedooropenandsteppedinside.Ihesitatedonthethreshold,breathingin

thestrangesmelloftheplace,amix of ash and rotten egg.Vaguely, the words of theoathMs.Millerhadmadeustake our first day in theMenageriepassedthroughmymind, something about notopeninganylockedareas.

“Come on,” Paul said.“Before we get caught. Thisplaceisofflimits.”

“No kidding,” I muttered

asIfollowedhimin.Heshutthe door behind me andturned the lock. Inside, thebuildingwasonegiant room,completelybareofeverythingexcept the dirt and leaf litteron the concrete floor. To theleft, the floor slopeddownward, leading into thetunnels.

Paul reached up andremoved his shape-change

necklace, his bearded-manpersona disappearing. Hefolded the stiff chain andtucked it into his pocket.“This way,” he said, turningtoward the tunnel. A lanternhung on thewall next to thetunnel’s entrance, and Paulpicked it up andwhispered afire incantation. Flamesappeared inside the glassframe, casting an impressive

amountoflightgivenitssize.Holdingitoutinfrontofhim,heproceededintothetunnel.

“Where are we going?” Isaid hurrying after him andhalf-stumbling over my ownfeet. “What is this place,Paul?”

He glanced over hisshoulder,amischievoussmiletwisting his lips. “Why areyousowor—”Thesmilefell

away. He stopped and facedme, his eyes levelwithminethanks to his lower vantagepoint.“It’sEli,isn’tit?”

I blinked at him, rockingback on my heels tocompensate for the slopingfloor. “What are you talkingabout?”

Paulmotionedtowardme.“You, acting like I’m an axmurderer luring you away to

myfavoritechoppingblock.”Imadeaface.“That’snot

funny.”“It is Eli, right?” Paul

lowered the lantern as if itwere suddenly too heavy tolift. It dangled from hisfingers, bumping against hisjeans.“Iknowhe’snothappyaboutthis,assumingyoueventoldhim.”

“Of course I told him,” I

said, my voice dangerouslyclosetoahiss.

“Oh, yeah? What did hehavetosayaboutit?”

I opened my mouth andclosed it again, gritting myteeth. Paul waited a fewseconds, thesilenceapainfulpressure as I searched for aresponse, one that didn’tinvolve accusing him ofkillinghisuncle.

“Let me guess,” Paulcontinued. “He thinks I’minvolved,doesn’the?”

I stared at him, unable tothinkofareply.

“Yeah,Ithoughtso.”Paulpressed his lips together.Anger glistened in his eyes,which were colorless in thedimcave-likehallwayaroundus, the darkness broken onlybytheflickeringlanternlight.

“Don’t be silly,” I said, ahollowclanginmywords.“Imean,yeah,hewasmad,butdid you really expectanythingelsefromhim?”

“Not at all.” Paul exhaledthen drew in a breath deepenough that I saw his chestexpand. “But I also knowyou’recoveringforhim.”Hewavedoffmyprotest.“It’sallright. I don’t blame you or

him. Not given my history.”The timid smile that rose tohisfacewaspainfultosee.

“I … I’m sorry, Paul.” Idroppedmygazetothefloor,unable tobearhisexpressionamomentlonger.Iwantedtosay something better, but Icouldn’tthinkofanything.

“Do you believe inredemption?”

I raised my eyes to find

Paul wasn’t looking at me,but had bent his neck to theside, his gaze focused downthetunnelsomewhere.

“I don’t know.” Oncemore they were hollowwords,ahollowanswer.

Paul turned back to me,his expression closer tonormal,thatbrokennessIsawinhimamomentagocoveredby a hard veneer. “All I can

doisgiveyoumywordthatIdidn’t kill my uncle. I waslockedupinthatcellwithnowayoutofitforalmostthreeweeks. That makes twice inmy life I’ve been a prisonerinside the Rush. It was theworstthingI’veeverendured.And I have no intention ofever ending up back thereagain.”

I stared at him, weighing

this answer in my mind. Iknew he could still be lying,butthenthevividmemoryoftheRush’s cellblocks rose inmymind.Isawthoseuprightcoffincells,theruststainsonthe wall, and the oppressivedarkness, the kind madeworse by the knowledge oflight existing outside of it,like that glass corridorleading to the prison, so

warm and beautiful. Even atnight it would glow a littlewithmoonandstarlight.

I slowly nodded. “Ibelieveyou.”

The hardness in hisexpression broke into relief.“Let’s get going. We’ve gotlots to do and only a littletime. I’ve got to be at thefront gates by five or mywatchdogswillgetsuspicious

andcomelookingforme.”I followed after him, too

leery of this undergroundjourney to want to walkbesidehim.Thereweremoresigns down here warningpeople to stay out or riskbeing, “impaled, crushed, orincinerated.”

The sloping tunnel endedin stairs that circleddownward in a dizzying

spiral. It was impossible totellhowfardownitwent,butwithin seconds I wasconvincedwewouldbeon itforever. The stone wascrumbling around us, bits ofgravel and dirt showeringdown with every step. Evenourbreathseemedtodislodgeit.

“Seriously, Paul, wherearewegoing?” Just as I said

it the stairs came to an end,and Paul and I stepped outintoavastcavern,onesotallthelanternstoodlittlechanceof illuminating theceiling.Athousand years of dirt andscreecoveredthefloor.

Paulheld the lanternaloftand turned in a circle, as ifoffering me a view of theplace. “No one will discoverus down here. It’s not as

structurally sound as it usedto be, but we should be allrightforwhatwe’redoing.”

I didn’t like the wordshould but decided not topress.“Itlooksreallyoldandnotmanmade.Notthispart.”

“That’s because this is adragon’snest.”

I spun to face him. “Awhat?”

Hegrinned.“Iknewyou’d

like it. Once upon a time, afemale dragon lived in hereand laid her eggs. See.” Hescooted his foot against theground, and I heard a fainttinkling.

IlookeddowntoseewhatI thoughthadbeenscreewasactually shells. Or mostlyshells. There was plenty ofscree and other bits of rockand debris mixed in with it.

“Wow. This is amazing. Sothere really are dragons atArkwell.”

“Well, yeah, I told youthat, but they’re not like theonesthatusedtoliveinthesecaves.”

“Howso?”“The dragons that lived

herediedoutalongtimeago.OrIguessyoucouldsaytheyevolvedintoextinction.”

Puzzled, I cocked myhead. “How are the dragonsdifferentnow?”

“Size mostly. Andviciousness. Our moderndragonsarea lot smaller, thesize of elephants. Butthese”—he motioned towardtheceiling—“werethesizeofdinosaurs.”

Igaped,unabletoimagineit. I’d once seen a life-sized

replica of a blue whalehanginginanentrancewayofamuseum. Itwas so large itfelt like a cheap gag. Mymind couldn’t wrap itselfaround the idea thatsomethingthatbigcouldalsobe alive, that it could moveandthinkonitsown.

“Our modern dragons arealso domesticated.” Paulscrunched up his nose.

“Sorta. Anyway, come on,there’s a clearer spot overhere.”

He led the way along thenearestwalluntilwereacheda cluster of stalagmitesstandingupinaroughcircle.Insidethecirclethefloorwasclearofdragonshells.Anoldblanket and several pillowsfilled the space, alongwith acoupleofadditionallanterns.

“I brought some stuffdown ahead of time tomakethis more comfortable,” Paulexplainedwhen I shot him aquizzicallookattheitem.

Stepping into the circle,Paul lit the lanterns with awave of his hand. In thesudden burst of light, Inoticedsomethingoddonthenearbywall.

“What’s that?” I pointed.

Caveman drawings coveredthe stone. At least, that waswhat they looked like at firstglance. But I soon saw theywere more complex, akin toEgyptianhieroglyphs.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Paulsaid. “There’s a lot of thisprehistoric artwork in thedragon caves, even in theones we’re still using. Ms.Miller told me they were

made by a prehistoricNativeAmericantribeofwitchkinds.The Iwatoke, I think theywerecalled.”

“TheIwatoke,”Irepeated,struggling with the strangeword.

“Theyworshipeddragons,apparently.Somostofthisisabout that.” Paul steppedcloser to thewall, letting thelightexpandoverthesurface.

He pointed. “See over there,that’sthehatchingandthere’sthematingritual,andsoon.”

I gawked, in awe of thescene before me. It was thekind of thing that made mewant to grow up to be anarcheologist, to become themagickindversionof IndianaJones or Lara Croft, minusthegunsandkillingbadguys.“Iwouldlovetogoexploring

downhere.”“Oh, no you wouldn’t,”

Paulsaid,turningtofaceme.“This is as safe as it gets.That tunnel over there isalmost impassable.” Hepointed at another slopingtunnel leading downwardnearby. “Even I’m not braveenoughtogodownthere.”

I consideredwalkingoverfor a better look but then

turned my gaze back to thewall. “Dangerous or not, itwould be really—” The restof my sentence got derailedasmyeyes tookinafamiliarshape. The sight sent a chillslipping down my spine,every hair on my bodystandingup.

The drawing was ofanother dragon. This onelying in a perfect circle, its

arms and wings drawn closeto its serpentine body. Thedragon’smouthwasopenandit was swallowing its owntail.

It was the ouroboros.RightoutofEli’sdream.

17

GrowingPains

“What’swrong,Dusty?”

Paul’svoicebrokethroughmy shock, and I turned tostare at him, my mind stillwhirling. I turned back,walking over to the wall. Ihad to stretch my hand overmy head to reach theouroboros drawing. I ranmyfingers over the roughsurface, tracing the twist ofthedragon’sbody.

“Idon’tget it,”Paul said,

hands on hips. “What’s thebig deal? That symbol is allover the place down here.”Heswungaroundandpointedat another spot on the wall.“Look, there’s another andanother.” He pointed to twodifferent areas on the wall,and I flinched at the sight ofeachouroboros.Everyinchofmyskinwastingling.

I took a deep breath,

trying to regain mycomposure before Paulbecame convinced I washaving a psychotic break.“It’sEli’sdream.We’veseenthissymbol.”

“Oh.” Paul’s eyebrowsdrew together. “Soyou thinkithasanextrameaning?”

Inodded.“Ithasto,onlyIdon’t think it means quitewhatwethoughtitdoes.”

“Huh?”Iglancedathim,uncertain

ofhowmuchtotellhim.Eli’ssuspicions about him keptpinging in the back of mymind, tiny warning bellscallingforcaution.“Well,it’sa symbol of rebirth andrenewal, according to theInternet.”Even the e-net, themagickind version of theInternet, said the same, and

not much else. I’d madeseveralsearchesaboutitoverthelastfewdays.

“You think it representsMarrowthen?”Paulsaid.

Once again, I flinched,inhalingaquickbreath.Itfeltwrong to discuss this withPaul. The contents andmeanings in Eli’s dreamswere something I normallydiscussedwithEli,but so far

we’dhadlittlechancetotalk.A lot of what we needed totalk about we couldn’t withthe Will Guard alwaysaround.

I ran a hand through myhair and faced him. The catwas too far outof thebag totrytowrangleitbackinnow.“Yeah, that’s what wethought. I mean, we havereason to believe he’s

involved in thenondisclosurething that the magickindSenatehasusinvestigating.”

“Oh, I see.” He turnedback to the wall, his gazeshifting between the variousouroboros symbols. “But Idoubt these symbols haveanything to dowithMarrow.They were here even beforehistime,I’msure.”

“That’s just it,” I said,

unabletokeeptheexcitementfromleapingupinmyvoice.“Whatifwewerewrongthatit representedMarrow?Whatif the dream’s been pointingus toward the dragon cavesallthistime?”

Paul frowned. “I supposeit’spossible.”

SuddenlyallIwantedwasto race upstairs and find thenearest computer connected

tothee-net.Iwantedtoknowwhat a search stringcombining “ouroboros” withthe“Iwatoke”wouldturnup.

Except, proving mymom’s innocence was moreimportant. That had to comefirst.

Withaneffort,Ipulledmygaze away from the symbolson the walls and focused onPaul. “I’ll look into it later.

Show me how to use thisnecklace.”

Paul returned to thecircleandIfollowedhimintoit.Hefaced me and withdrew ashape-change necklace fromhis pocket. It wasn’t his, butsimilar. This one held a bluestone instead of green withthe same hemp chaininterwovenwithoddlyshapedopaquebeads.

“Ijustgotitlastnight,butit works pretty well,” Paulsaid, stretching it out so Icouldseeitbetter.“Itdefaultsto a woman in her mid-thirties, I think. She’s tall,easily my height or better.Her eyesight’s not great, butotherwise, it’s a decentshape.”

“Your height?” I lookedup at him, cringing. He had

mebyhalfafootatleast.“Isthisgoingtohurt?”

Paulhesitatedlongenoughforanxiety tobeginchurningin my stomach. “Not hurtexactly. It’s just reallyuncomfortable.Butyou’llgetused to it.” He held thenecklaceouttome.

I took it, suddenly awareofhowcoldmyfingerswere,practically numb. It was

chilly and damp down here,the familiar smell of canalwater present as it waseverywhere inArkwell’svastunderground, but I knewmycurrent drop in temperaturehadmoretodowithwhatwascoming. The necklace waslighter than I expected andundeniably magical. AlreadyI felt its power tingling overmy palm, ready to be

unleashed.I raised thenecklacefora

closer examination, anythingto delay the next part a fewseconds longer. My breathcaught in my throat as Irealized the white beadsweren’t beads at all. “Arethesehumanteeth?”

“Yes.” Paul winced. “ButItrynottodwellonit.”

“Gross.” I resisted the

urgetohandthethingbacktohim. The knowledge that itwascomprisedof teethmadeit feel dark. Evil. Blackmagic. “How did you get asecond one?” His necklacehad come from the police aspartofhiswitnessprotectiongig, but I doubted theywould’ve given him anotherone just for kicks, notconsidering that they wanted

tokeeptabsonhim.“I got it from Mr.

Culpepper,”saidPaul.I frowned, my dislike of

the thing in my handincreasing tenfold. AlthoughCulpepperwasokay, Ididn’texactly love his side job.Whenhewasn’tfixingthingsaround the school he ran ablack market, one thatincluded black magic items.

“SoItakeitthisisillegal?”Paul scratched his cheek,

not quite meeting my gaze.“Kinda,alittle.”

I closed my eyes andinhaled, reining in my fear.This is forMom. I remindedmyself.

“It’sallright,Dusty,”Paulsaid. “We’re not using it foranything evil, and we’re notgoingtogetcaught.”

He seemed prettyconfident, way more than Idid. Then again, he’dprobably gotten away with alot more than I’d everattempted. It was a soberingthought.Becareful, IheardavoicelikeEli’swhisperinmymind.“ButhowdidyougetitfromCulpepper?I imagine itwasexpensive.”

“I traded him something

for it.” Paul pulled his cellphoneoutofhisbackpocketand checked his watch.“Damn,weneedtohurry.”

I nodded, my heartbeatpicking up. “What do I havetodo?”

“Just put it on. Thenecklace does all the work.Youjustneedtoholdstillandlet it happen. That’s thehardestpart.”

“Why?”“You’ll see. Just don’t

take the necklace off, nomatterwhat.Letthemagicdoitsjob.You’llknowwhenit’sdone.”

Ill at ease with suchvague,unhelpfuldescriptions,I raised the necklace to myneck and fastened it. Magicblazed into life, sweepingover me like a blast of

furnaceair.Myskinbegantoitchasifathousandantswerecrawlingalloverme.Ilookeddown atmy arms, convincedI would see the bugs. Therewas nothing there, themagicinvisible.Icouldfeelitinsideme, burrowing beneath myskin.

In seconds, I understoodwhy Paul said this was thehardest part. Every single

instinct I possessed wasscreaming at me to removethe necklace. My body feltlike it was being stretchedand poked and pressed ahundred different ways. Itwas excruciating withoutbeing painful. Finally, Icouldn’t take it anymore.Shrieking,Iraisedmyhands,ready to yank it off. Paul’sfingers closed around my

wrists, and he wrestled myhands away from thenecklace.

“Don’t fight it,” heshouted over my protests.“You’re almost there. Andtrust me, you don’t want tostartoveragainnow.”

I struggled uselesslyagainsthisgripforamoment,and then forced myself torelax.Itwasliketryingtolie

still and keep your mouthopenwith the dentist drillingintoyourteeth.

An eternity later, it cametoanend. Iopenedmyeyes,whichI’dheldshuttheentiretimeandsawPaul lookingatme with an odd expression.He let go of my wrists andsteppedback.

“What?” I said, andjumpedatthestranger’svoice

thathadspokenmywords.Itwasadeepvoice,roughlikeasmoker’s. I lookeddownandsaw hands that didn’t belongto me. They were older, theveins more prominent andetched with wrinkles. Myclotheshad transformedfrommy usual T-shirt and jeansintoaturtleneckandcardiganensemble over a pair ofkhakiswhosewaistbandIfelt

pressing against my navel,several inches abovewhere Inormallyworeit.

“It’sweird lookingatyouateyelevel,”Paulsaid.

I stared at him, suddenlydisoriented. Itwas like Iwaswearing stilts. I becameaware of how much biggermy body was, how alien. Iswayedonmyfeet.

“Whoa.”Paul reachedout

tosteadyme.I moved my right leg,

widening my stance. “I’mokay.Ithink.”

“This is why we’repracticing,” Paul said.“You’vegottogetusedtothenewdimensions.”

“Forreal.”Iputmyhandson my waist then droppedthem away. It was liketouchingsomeoneelse.

Paul smiledencouragement. “That’s it.Get used to it. When you’reready,trywalkingaround.”

Ididashesuggested,firstraisingmyhandstotouchthetopofmyhead.Thehairwasthinner than mine, smoothlike silk and ending justabove my shoulders. Itouched my fingers to myface, feeling the more

prominent brow and sharplyangularnose.Iranmytongueover my teeth, the sensationof someone else’s mouthprobably theweirdest part ofall.

Finally, I worked up thecouragetotrymoving.Itwasdifficult,especiallyinthedimlight and uneven floor.Morethan once I had to stop andsteadymyself.

“You’re going to have tobe extra careful about anylow ceilings,” Paul calledfrom inside the circle wherehe stood watching myprogress. “You should wearthenecklaceonthewaybackup.That’llbegoodpractice.”

“Youmeanagoodwaytoknock myself out,” I said,stumbling over my too-largefeet.

“If that happens I’ll carryyou out. Minus the shape-changenecklace,ofcourse.”

“Goodidea.”Ashortwhilelater,Icame

to a stop and said, “I thinkI’mgettingthehangofit.”

“Good.” Paul smiled andreached into his pocket,pullingouthiscell again.Henavigatedacoupleofscreensandthenhelditup,pointedat

me.“What’reyoudoing?”“I need a picture of you

likethis.”I arched an eyebrow—at

least I tried to, but this facedidn’t seem capable of themovement. Both eyebrowswentupinstead.

“For your fake ID,” Paulsaid, making an adjustmentonthescreen.“You’vegotto

bein thesystemwhenwegothrough the guard gate orthere’llbequestions.”

“Huh.”Iputmyhandsonmy hips. “They don’t checkIDsatthegate.”

“They didn’t used to. Butthings have changed sinceLyonshold.” Paul aimed thephoneoncemore.“Smile.”

I did, feeling a doubledose of awkwardness than at

a normal picture. I had noidea if this face would lookbetter open-mouthed orclosed, big smile or small,crinkledeyesorwideopen.

Thephoneclickedandthebright flash struck myeyeballs. Paul lowered thecamera and examined theresult. “Notbad.”Hehandedthe phone over to me. Ilooked at the picture,

intrigued by the stranger’sface. She was averagelookingwithdarkbrownhair,the kind of woman thatwouldn’t draw much notice.Agooddisguise,Idecided.

I handed the phone back.“Are you sure you’ll be abletomakeanIDoutofthat?It’ssoexposed.”

Paul grinned. “Piece ofcake with Lance’s computer.

Printingitwillbeharder,butthere’s equipment in theMenagerie.Afterthat,allI’vegot to do is hack Arkwell’scomputersandaddyoutothedatabase.”

Bemused,Isaid,“That’salotofcriminalactivity.”

The grin slid from Paul’sface.“I’mdoingitforyou.”

Iinhaledasharpbreath.“Iknow. Thank you, by the

way.”A few seconds passed

before he said, “You’rewelcome.”

Smiling, I wracked mybrain for a safer subject.“So…oncewehave theID,how are we getting offcampus?”

“I’m going to borrow afriend’s car, this guy I workwith in the Menagerie. He’s

thesameonewhosefaceI’vebeenborrowing,actually.”

I wrinkled my nose. I’dseen his alternate shape justtheonce,adark-haired,dark-skinned man in his mid-thirties.“Howdoesthatworkexactly?”

“It’s all about the teeth,I’m afraid.” He grimaced.“This one here is differentfrom the rest of the

necklace.”Hepointed to oneof the beads that protruded alittle furtherout than the reston his necklace. “Took meawhiletofigureitout,butifIfocushardenoughonit,Icanchangeintohim.”

Aquiverwentthroughmystomach. “Do you mean tosay that the teeth in thisnecklace belonged to thewoman whose face I’m

wearingrightnow?”“I’dthoughtthatwould’ve

beenobvious.”Itwas,butI’dbeenhoping

theopposite.“But…”Iraisedmyhand to the necklace andgingerly touched one of theteeth. “How did they gethere?”

“Itrynottothinkaboutittoohard,”Paulsaid,hisgazeonthefloor.

I cleared my throat. Thiswoman whose shape I wasborrowing wasn’t exactlyyoung but she wasn’t oldeither. Was she dead? Thethought sent a shudderthrough my body. “How didyougetyourfriend’stooth?”

Paul blew out a breath.“Pure luck. He got whackedin the facewithadragon tailanditknockedthetoothclean

out.Imanagedtofindit.”“Ew.” I scrunched upmy

noseindisgust.“Iwasdesperateforalittle

freedom.” He checked thetime on his phone. “Damn.Weneedtogo.”

Paulturned,pickedupthelantern,andbeganleadingtheway back. I followed afterhim, anxious not to be leftbehind. I might be keen on

exploring this place, but Ididn’t like the idea ofclimbing out of here in thedark. Not in this strangebody. Over and over again Ibumped into the walls ortripped over my own feet.Paulhadbeenrightabouttheneedtopractice.

When we emerged fromthe tunnels, I pulled thenecklace off. Undoing the

shape-change proved a lotmore comfortable thanputting it on. In an instant Ifelt my skin and body snapback into its right form.Relief came over me likekicking off an ill-fitting pairof shoes after hours ofwalking. Sweet release. Iheavedahappysigh.

“Welcome back,” Paulsaid.

“Thanks.” I held up thenecklace.“ShouldIkeep thisoryou?”

“You,” Paul answered atonce. “And you should keeppracticing.Maybethenyou’llbe ready by the time I’vefinishedyourID.”

“All right.” I droppedmygaze to the necklace, able toseeitmoreclearlyinthelightuphere.Itwashardtobelieve

I ever could’ve mistaken theteethforbeads.Teeth.Fromadeadwoman.Blackmagic.I folded the necklace and

slid it into my pocket. Ithought I could understandwhy the rest of magickindhad come down so hard onshape-changers, at least alittle. They could steal youridentity, your life, maybe

evensomeofyoursoul.Feeling dirty from the

outside in, I vowed I woulddestroy the necklace as soonasthiswasover.

18

Breakthroughs

My first order of business

after leaving the Menageriewastoheadtomydormroomand fetch my eTab. Selenewasn’t there when I arrived,andIwonderedifshe’dgoneto gladiator practice. Shehadn’t said shewas planningon it, but she might’vechangedhermind.

I pulled my cell out andexamined the screen only tofind I’d missed a text from

Selenethatshe’dsentanhourago. Either I hadn’t felt thephone vibrate or the surlything had chosen not tovibrate.Probablythelatter.

In013ifyouwanttohangafter.

I checked the time andsaw it was a little too earlyfor dinner. Tucking the eTab

undermyarm,Ileftthedormagain,headingforthelibrary.WhenIarrivedinthehallwayoutside Room 013, I heardSelene shouting. I broke intoarunandskitteredaroundthecorner into the room, myhand raised and a dazingcurseonthetipofmytongue.

I froze, stunned by thescenethatawaitedme.Selenewas indeed shouting, but it

was at Buster and not someenemy.Onlyasecondlater,Irealizedthatthechairwastheenemy.Itlookedlikethetwoof them were sparring. Shewasstrafingsidetosidewhileacross from her the chairrolledanddarted.

“Fligere!” Selene shoutedand a stream of blue lightshot out from her fingertips.The jab jinx struck Buster

right in the headrest. Thechair went flying backward,spinningonitsaxle.

“What are you doing?” Isaid,completely takenaback.For a second, I consideredcastingabindingcurseatherjust to stop the abuse. Sure,Busterwasapain in thebuttbutthisseemedexcessive.

Selene spun towardme, ahard, focused look on her

face and her hand still heldout in front of her, ready tothrowanotherspell.

“Whoa,” Isaid,wavingather.“It’sjustme.”

Selene relaxed at once,lowering her hand. A broadsmilesplither face.“Sorry, Iwas just really getting intoit.”

Ishotheraconfusedlook,myeyebrowsdoingthesplits

—oneofthemrisinghighandtheotherlowering.“Intoit?”

“Practice,” Selene said,pushing her long black braidbehindhershoulder.“TryoutsareaweekfromSaturday.”

I didn’t know whether tolaugh or shake her. “You’reusing Buster for targetpractice?Really?”

She shrugged. “Hevolunteered.”

“How—never mind. Whydidn’tyoujustgotogladiatortrainingwiththeboys?”

A mischievous glintflashed in Selene’s eyes. “Idon’t want to give up theelement of surprise. Plus,sign-ups for the class closedtwoweeksago.”

I sighed and sat down onthe nearest chair, onethankfully not inclined

toward animation. “Youneverceasetoamazeme.”

SelenewaggledafingeratBuster, and the chair camerolling over to her at once,turning to offer its seat. Itseemed it really didn’t mindbeingused as target practice.Dumbchair.

Selene sat down andcrossed one leg over theother. “You really should

consider trying out with me.It’sgoodtraining.”

“Forwhat?”Selene’s gaze seemed to

pierceme.“Marrow’scomingback someday, Dusty. Weneed to be ready for it.”Silencehungheavyaroundusfor amoment, theonlynoisetheclickandbeepof thetwocomputersinthefarcorner.Itsounded like they were

bickering.Ifrowned,mostlybecause

I knew she was right. Only—“What good will it reallydotobeabletofighthim?”

Selene scoffed, hands onhips. “How about stayingalive?”

“That’s just it though.” Iidly began to twist Bellanaxonmywrist.“He staysalive.Always. And no matter how

good we learn to fight, itwon’t stop him, not forgood.”

Selene turned her head totheside,consideringtheidea.“Therehastobesomeway.”

“You think so? Mygrandmother imprisoned himinadream,givingupherownlife tokeephim thereandhestillcameback.”

“Well, yes,” Selene said,

“but we can’t know for surethat was the only option shehad. Maybe she did know awaytokillhimforgood,butchosenottodoit.”

“What makes you saythat?”IforcedmyhandawayfromBellanax.

“Theywere dream-seers,”Selenesaid,matter-of-factly.

“Sowhat?”“She loved him. Maybe

she decided imprisoning himinadreamwasmorehumanethan the alternative.” Seleneleanedback,proppingonelegon top of the other. “I don’tknowmuch aboutNightmaremagic,butitseemstomethatif he was imprisoned in adream of her own makingmaybeshecouldvisithim inthedream.”

Aweightlessfeelingcame

overmeatthethought.Wasitpossible? PowerfulNightmares could enterdreams fromafar,butNimueand Marrow had been onseparate continents—sheasleep here beneath Arkwellwith Bellanax hidden in herdream while Marrow hadbeen in the UK somewhere.Only, diddreams really haveboundaries?Theydidn’tseem

to.Theydidn’tobeytherulesof time, the laws of physics.They could go anywhere,anytime, every dreamconnectedtoanotherinsomevasteternalweb.

“Wouldn’t you do thesame?” Selene said. “If Eliturnedoutevilandyouhadtostophim,Imean.”

The notion of Eli turningevil was absurd, but I could

seeherpoint.WouldIchooseas Nimue had?Would a lifespent inashareddream,ableto see and talk to Eli butnever touch him, be betterthan ending it forever? Itwasn’t a choice I wanted tomake—ever.

“Maybe,” I said, meetingSelene’sgaze. “Butwedon’tknow that Nimue could’vedonesomethingelse.”

“Exactly.”I touched a finger to the

silver band on my wrist.Doyou know? The swordhummed in my mind butnothingmore. If itdidknow,maybe the psychometrywould reveal it. More andmoreIwasreadytogive itatry,butthelastthingDeverellhad said before he went outon sick leave was that I

needed to gain more controlfirst.

“Anyway,” Selene said.“How’ditgowithPaul?”

Relieved at the change insubject, I filledher in.WhileIdid, I satdownandopenedmyeTabtoasearchwindow.

“Teeth?” Selene said, alook of disgust twisting herlips.

“Apparently.”

She began to fiddle withthe end of her braid. “Isuppose that makes sensethough. They say the toothfairy myth was created byshape-changers.”

I looked up from thescreen.“Really?Ifiguredthetooth fairywould turn out tobereal.”

Selene laughed. “Nothardly. No more than Santa

Claus.”I was strangely bummed

bythisnews.“Shape-changers made it

up as an easy way to get ahold of teeth,” Selenecontinued. “But once theydied out, ordinaries just keptondoingitanyway.”

I nodded, having heardsimilar stories before. “Butwhatdidtheywantwithbaby

teeth?”“Beats me.” Selene

inclined her head toward thecomputer. “What are youlookingup?”

Ifacedthescreen.“Ineedto figure out the significanceof the Iwatoke and theouroboros.”

“Thewhatandthewhat?”Iexplainedtheconnection

betweenEli’sdreamsandthe

dragon caves. As I talked, Ientered the search string andstarted sifting through theresults. Right away the firsthit caught my eye—IwatokeandtheCultofResurrection.

Iclickedonitandscannedthefirstcoupleofparagraphsbefore slowing down to readonemorecarefully:

Perhaps the most intriguingaspectoftheIwatokeculture

is their belief in the GreatOuroboros, a legendarydragonwhodiedswallowingits own tail.At themomentof its death, the dragon’sbody was said to havehardenedintostone,creatinga walled space set in aperfect circle. The Iwatokebelieved the areawithin theouroboros circle to be holy,and that it possessedextraordinary restorativepowers. They claimed that

anypersonclosetodeathorrecently departed could bereturned to life if set in thecenter of the circle. Someaccounts state anaccompanying spell wasneededtoactivatethemagicin the ouroboros, whileotherssayonlythoseblessedby the Great Dragon weregranted the power ofresurrection.

However, despite thediscovery of nearly a dozen

ouroboroscirclesthroughoutthe lands of Ohio, Indiana,West Virginia, andKentucky, none of themhave possessed anymagicalproperties whatsoever. Infact, most appear to becarved of various naturallyoccurring materials such aslimestone, flint, or granite.Although some moredetermined treasure hunterscontinuethesearchforarealouroboros circle, the

magickind historic andscientific communities havedetermined that the GreatOuroboros was simply amyth perpetuated by theIwatoke.

I didn’t read any furtherbut went back to the searchpage and clicked on anotherlink. It said much the samething, although with a littlemore detail on the supposed

ritual as well as speculationon what purpose the mythmighthave servedwithin theIwatokeculture.

After exploring a coupleofotherlinks,disappointmentset in. It seemed theouroborossimplymeantwhatEli and I had originallythought—Marrow. Theirpresence in the dragon cavesmustbemerecoincidence.

“Noluck?”Selenesaid.“Looks that way.” I

cracked my knuckles. “Butwhatelseisnew?”

“Come on, then,” Selenesaid, standing up. “Will youhelpmetrainforthegladiatortryouts?You’llmake amoreinteresting opponent thanBusterhere.”

The chair made adisappointednoise.

“Are you sure that’s agood idea?” I said, glancingaroundtheroom.

Selene waved off myconcern. “We’ll just pass afewvolleys.Nobigdeal.”Haha—right.Selene’s few volleys

endedupbeingaspectacleofbloodandbruises.

Without protective gear,we could only trade shots

back and forth, eitherblockingwithashieldspellortrying to repel themwith thecounter-curse. Yeah, inhindsight it probably wasn’tthebestideawe’deverhad.IrealizeditwhenSelenefailedto repel my dazing curse alltheway.I’dthrownitwithoutany real heat or force.Nevertheless, blood burstfromher lipas itglancedoff

herface.“Oh, God, Selene, I’m

sorry.” I took a step towardher,justasshethrewadazingcursemyway.Itwastoolateto block, too late to doanything except raise myhandsinfrontofmyfaceandhopeforthebest.

The spell struck me, andthen…nothing.Onemomentthe magic was there and the

next it was gone as if it hadnever been. Except aroundmywrist,IsensedBellanax’spresencegrowstronger,morephysicallyrealsomehow.

But the realizationmattered for less than asecond as pain exploded inmyknees.Shrieking,Ilookeddown to see that Buster wasinfullattackmode.Thechairhad just careened into my

legsandwasalreadybackinguptodoitagain.

“Heel,youstupidthing,”Ishouted at it. But it onlypealeditswheelsandchargedforward.

A jet of magic struck itjustbeforeitcrashedintome.Bustercareenedsidewaysandtipped over. Its wheels keptspinning wildly, but once itwasdowntherewasnowayit

wasgettinguponitsown.I glanced at Selene.

“Thanks. And wow, I’mreallysorryaboutyourface.”

She grinned and gentlyprobed her bleeding lip.“LookslikeIneedtoworkonthatone.Andsorryaboutthatspell. It was reaction. But atleastyoublockedit.”

“Noproblem,” I said, andfeltBellanaxwarmingagainst

my skin. I hadn’t blocked it,and neither had the sword.Instead, Bellanax hadabsorbedthemagicintoitself.I could feel the increasedpower even now, like a buzzofelectricitydancingovermyskin. I stared down at it,wondering at this newestdevelopment. It had nevershielded me from a spellbefore. Maybe all the mind-

magicexercisesDeverellhadme doing was finally havinganeffect.Thesworddidseemmore accessible than ever. Itwas as if there’d been a badcell phone connectionbetween us before, full ofstaticandnebulousexistence.Now it was as clear andsteadyasalandline.

Deciding we’d doneenough damage for one

evening, Selene rightedBuster, gave the chair a pat,and then we left for thecafeteria.

“What the hell happenedto you?” Lance said as wearrived, his eyes fixed onSelene’s injured face. Hisexpression turned instantlymurderous.

She and I exchanged alook.

Then Selene faced Lance,letting a slow, sultry smilespreadoverher lips.Iwasn’tsure how she could do itwithout wincing from pain,butshedid.Itwassodazzlingit made the injury lookweirdlysexy.

“Wegottogoofingaroundin room oh-thirteen,” shesaid. “No big deal.” Sherolled her shoulders, turning

upthecharmevenmore,butIcould tell she wasn’t usingher siren magic. She didn’tneedto.NotwithLance.

His glare turned into asoppygrin.Isatdownacrossfrom Eli, suddenly verygratefulthatmyinjuriesfromour sparring session weren’tvisible.Ihadafeelingasmileand a wink wouldn’t cut itwithEli,not considering that

I’d spent a good hour alonewithPaulearliertoday.

But at least when I gavehim the recap of my tripdowntothedragoncaves,hekepthiscool.Mostly,Ithink,because he was so intriguedby the Iwatoke and theouroboros.

“Butthesearchdidn’tturnupanything?”heasked.

“Unfortunately,no.”

Eli drummed his fingerson the table. “I’d still like togetalookatthecave.MaybePaul can take us both downtherenexttime.”

I nodded, trying to hidemyreliefthathewasrelaxingalittleaboutPaul.

“I’vefoundoutsomethingnew, too,” Eli said a fewmomentslater.“Butit’llhavetowaituntilwe’realone.”

After dinner he and Iheadedbacktothelibraryforsome studying and a privatechat. As usual, a couple ofWillGuardstrailedbehindus.I didn’t understand how theycould always be so on it. Inever caught them followingmewhen Iwasbymyself orwithSelene.OnlywhenIwaswith Eli. They were gettingmoreandmoreobviousabout

it. Tonight they were sopursuantthatEliandIhadtoretreat to the farthest cornerof the study room we’dselected—one convenientlydevoid of anyone else—andeven then he had to whisperbeforethenondisclosurespellwouldlethimspeak.

“Rememberwhen I askedValentineiftheDeath’sHeartwasarealheart?”Elisaid.

Slowly, the conversationcamebacktome.“Hewasn’tsure,right?”

“Yes, but now I think—”Hepausedandglancedatthedoorwherewe’dbothheardanoise. When no one cameinside,he turnedback tome.“—That it’s the heart of aGrimReaper.”

“LikearealGrimReaper?The personification of death

itself?” I couldn’t keep thedoubtfrommyvoice.

Eli nodded. “I know itsoundscrazy,butIguesstheywere some kind of corporealspirit. Only none have beenseenforcenturies.”

“Nice,” Isaid, foldingmyarms over my chest. “SoSanta Claus is bogus butGrimReapersarethegenuinearticle. What does that say

abouttheworld?”Eli smiled ruefully. “I

don’t know, but are youthinkingwhatI’mthinking?”

I stared at him, uncertain.Thenachillincheddownmyneck as I remembered thescythe my mom had beenholding in the dream. “Thatmymom is connected to theDeath’sHeart?”

“Itseemsthatway.”

Yes,itdid.“Buthow?”Eli opened his mouth to

answer, but it was no good.The Will Guards chose thatmomenttocomeinanddriveusout.

“It’s getting late,” one ofthem said. “You two shouldbe heading back to yourdorms.Alone.”

“No kidding,” I muttered,mymoodsuddenlybleak.

***

That bleakness did notimprove. The next few daystheWillGuardgotworseandworseaboutbreakingEliandI apart. I tried to keep myspirits up by focusing onfreeing my mom, but it wastaking Paul longer thanexpected to finish the ID.Even worse, every time I e-mailedLadyElaineaskingto

see my mother, she keptputtingmeoff—thecell’snotready yet. Which meant mymom was still under thesleepingspell.

At least training withSelene was helping keep mebusy.SheandIspentseveralhours both Saturday andSunday practicing in Room013 while the boys were atgladiator training.Selenehad

managed to borrow a coupleofgladiatorhelmets fromtheschool’s storeroom for ouruse. She’d gotten lucky lateFriday nightwhen she snuckintothegymtostealacouple,only to find Culpepper therecleaning up. He liked heralmost as much as he likedme,andsohadletherborrowtwo with minimal fuss andgrumbling.

The addition of thehelmets made gladiatortraining less perilous,although not incident free.Selene was sporting bruisesup and down both arms andalong one hip by the timeMonday rolled around. Forme, I hadn’t gotten so muchas a broken fingernail.EverytimeI failed toblockaspell,Bellanax was there, ready to

absorb it. It was comfortingtofeelsoindestructible.

If only Bellanax wascapable of protecting mefromemotionalattacks,sameas magical ones. But no, asBollinger proved in secondsof arriving at my dorm thatnight to escort me to thedream-sessionwithEli.Itriedmy best to ignore hermutterings and complaints,

the not-so-veiled insults, butby the time we arrived atFlintHall, Iwas ready to trytheasundercurseagain.

Bellanax burned aroundmywrist.Shutup,shutup.

“Then again,” Bollingerwas saying, “I suppose Ishouldn’t be that surprisedyou’retheonewhobroketheWill spell. Especially givenyourmurderessofamother.”

Bollinger pushed the dooropen and stepped inside.“Hupno-drasi!”

Eli was just standing upfromhisdeskwhen the spellstruck him in the chest. Hiseyes slid closed, and heslumped to the floor,whackinghisheadashefell.

“You … you evil, awfulperson!” I pushed past herintothedorm.

“That’s rich coming fromaNightmare,”Bollingersaid,completely unconcerned. ShepointedherwandatEliagainandmuttered a spell I didn’tknow.Hisbodyrose into theair, his limbs jerkingawkwardly.Shelevitatedhimacross the room and droppedhimontothesofa.

Then she turned to faceme oncemore. “Get onwith

it before I decide to use thesamespellonyou.”Go ahead and try. My

hand rose automatically tomy wrist. Bellanax roaredinsidemyhead,demandingtobe unleashed. Theincantations to a half-dozenspells flitted through mymind, each as easy to pluckoutanduseasselectingapenfrom a drawer. You can

destroy her. Silence herforever.

My vision blurred. Istartedtoslidethesilverbandfrom my wrist. In anothermoment the glamour wouldbeoff.No! I gritted my teeth,

wrestling for control. Icouldn’tdothis.Notnow,nothere with this womanwatching.Bollingerhadbeen

a Will-Worker, she mightrecognizeBellanax.Destroy her! The sword

shouted in mymind. It gaveupitsattempttobefreefromthe glamour. But it didn’tneedtobefreeformetousethespells itoffered. Itwouldbesoeasy.Sosatisfying.No. This time the thought

was firm in mymind, and amoment later I felt the fight

go out of the sword entirelyasitsurrenderedtomywill.

Bollinger watched mewith an annoyed expression.“What are you waiting for?Getonwithit.”

Wiping sweat from mybrow, Iwalked past her overtoEli.Tremblesofangerstillslid through my body, buttherewas triumph there, too.I’d come so close to giving

up control to Bellanax, but Ihadn’t. Deverell would beproudwhenheheard.You should consider

yourself lucky, I thought,glancing back at Bollinger.And that, too, made me feelbetter, a strange, new sort ofpower—thepowernottoact.

Clinging to this victory, Iclimbed onto Eli anddescendedintohisdreams.

19

ProceedwithCaution

Wewere on the barge again.

And this time it wasn’tdeserted.My dead bodywasonce more lying on theouroboros bed, but it didn’tdisturb me quite as much asbefore.Maybebecauseofthecomfortable weight ofBellanaxaroundmywrist,thesure knowledge that it couldhand me spells at will.Nothing could hurt me withtheswordaround.

Still, I could tell itbotheredEli.Iwatchedashebent toward my body, hiseyes drawn and faceshadowed. He studied mycorpse as if trying to readsome clue of how I diedthere. I stared, too, ignoringthe creep factor. But inseconds, I felt certain weweren’t going to learnanythingbyjustlooking.

Mustering my courage, Ileaned forward, took hold oftheburialshroudcoveringmychest, and pulled it back allthe way. Beneath, I waswearing a white gown of adesign from a long-gone era,circa the age of KingArthurand my great-greatgrandmotherNimue.Aswathof red as bright as paintstained the gown on the left

sideofthechest.Right over the heart. My

breath caught in my throatand a wrench went throughmy rib cage like a phantompainofthesameinjuryIwasseeing below.Withmy heartstartingtopoundinmyears,Ireached out and tentativelypulleddown thecollarof thegown, just enough to revealthe open, weeping puncture

wound. It was easily thewidth of three fingers andlooked deep enough to havegone all the way through totheotherside.Not thatIwasabouttoflipthebodyovertomakecertain.

Beside me, I heard Elimake a choking noise. Iglancedathimandrealizeditwasn’t a sound of revulsionbutofdespair.

“Cover it up,” Eli said,turningaway.

Iobeyed,aseager tohideit as he was and wishing Ihadn’t looked in the firstplace. Absently twisting thesilver band on my wrist, IsteppednearertoEli.

“Are you okay?” I asked.Even though I spoke softly,my words echoed in thecavernousspace.

Eli faced me, his gazehooded.Amuscle in his jawmovedinandout.“I’vebeenbetter.”Heraisedhishandstohis temple and pressed for asecond. “Seeing you dead orhurtingoranythingotherthanhappyisreallystartingtogetold.”

“I know,” I said. I wastiredofbothseeingmyselfinhisdreamsandofseeinghim

unhappy in my own dreams.Theattackwasrelentlessandperpetually cruel. “But thebest thing we can do is getthis solved. The sooner wefind the Death’s Heart, thesoonerthesedreamswillstop.I’msureofit.”

Eli’sjawworkedbackandforth.“Areyou?”

I flinched, his doubt aphysical blow. “Of course I

am. Aren’t you? Please tellmeyou’renotstartingtobuyinto all of this.” I motionedbehind us toward theouroboros bed. “It’s all justsymbols, Eli. Nothingmeanswhat it appears to on thesurface. And we alreadyknowmymotherisindanger.Thisisjustmoreofthat.”Myvoicebroke,tearsthreateningto make an appearance. Yet

again today, I’d been told Icouldn’tseeher.

Hedidn’t reply,and I feltmy heart tumble from mychest into my stomach. Icouldn’t take the idea thathemightchangehismindaboutus.Notnow,witheverythinggoing on. I needed things tobe right between us, thepossibilityofthecursefar,faraway.

Finally, he drew a breathand said, “I’ve seen thisbefore. You lying just likethat, with just that wound.”Hepointedtothecorpselyingbetween us. “I’ve seen it inmy own dreams, and I’veseenitin—”Hebrokeoffatastrange noise. It was a loudmoan of wood bending, thesound a tree makes when itsboughbreaksinthewind.

Eli and I both headedtoward it, stepping out fromthe curtained platform andontotheprowoftheship.Thesource of the noise becameapparent at once. Themasthead, which before hadbeencarvedintoadragonnotmuch different from theouroboros bed, was now thelikenessofagiantbird.Ithadtheheadandneckofaheron,

butwith the crest of a harpyeagle,twotuftslikefeatheredhorns. The bird’s woodenfaçade was beginning tocrack and splinter like aneggshell. Real feathers asblack as wet ink appearedbeneath. Slowly, loudly themastheadwascomingtolife.

Itwasbecomingtheblackphoenix—Marrow’sfamiliar.

Eli and I could only

watch, horrorstruck andfrozen in place. As beforethere was nowhere to go inthe dream but out of it. Notunless we wanted to try ourluck with the dark watersurrounding the boat, filledwith its unknown watercreatures.

The cracking andsplintering wood continuedon until the entire bird was

revealed, including the redplumageofitstail.Theblackphoenix, now free and hereandalive,archeditsheadandspreaditswings,thegestureastretchofpleasure.

Its sharp, hooked beakopenedanditletoutashriek.The sound pierced myeardrums, and it was all Icould do to cover my earswithmyhands.Butitwasan

invasive sound, crawlinginside me somehow, makingmyinsideswrithelikeworms.I felt my body start tocrumple, my torso bendingtoward my knees as if thesound was a down force aswell,likegravity.

I fought to keepmy headupandmyeyeson theblackphoenix. It turned towardEliand me, its red eyes boring

into mine with sentientrecognition.

Fear seemed to rip measunder,my heart a quaking,quiveringthinginmychest.Iwasparalyzedwith it,unabletothinkormove,unabletodoanything but stare, transfixedbyitsgaze.

Iwas barely aware of Elibesideme,hisbodytremblingwith the same fear that held

me in its grip. But then hereached out and grabbed mebythearm.

Pain seared through mybody, and the dream worldmelted into non-reality as Ifelt my consciousness beinghurledoutofit.Irejoinedmybody with an agonizing jolt,landing so hard I started totumble sideways. Eli’s armsroseuparoundme,creatinga

buffer.He pulled me to him,

holdingmeinplaceontopofhim. “I’m sorry,” he said,panting. “But it was thefastestwayout.”

“You mean the mostpainful,” I said, groaning.Atthemoment it felt like everynerveendinginmybodyhadbeendosedinacid.

“I’m sorry, Dusty.” Eli

huggedme to him again andthen began to run his handsup and down my back.Slowly the pain of beingevicted from his dream gavewaytopleasanttingles.

Ipushedmyselfupalittle,enough to glance behind meat Bollinger. She was asleepinher chair. I turnedback toEli, disbelieving our luck.“You’re awake this time,” I

whispered.Eli glanced at Bollinger,

too,andloweredhisvoice.“Iknow. Maybe your painfulexitbrokethesleepingspell.”He paused. “That or fear. Ican’t believe we saw theblackphoenix.”

“Me,either.”Thelasttimewe’dseenitinadream,ithadcut my arm with one of itsclaws.Istillborethescar.

Worry about thesignificance of the blackphoenix’s presence in Eli’sdream threatened to distractme,butwithaneffortIforcedit away. The dream, thethreat, Marrow, everythingelsecouldwait.

I glanced over myshoulder again, making sureof Bollinger’s position. Shewasfacingawayfromus,and

deeply asleep judging by thefictuscomingoffher.IturnedbacktoEli.Forallintentsandpurposes we were truly,officially alone, unwatchedandundeterred,solongaswestayed quiet. I wanted tomake the most of thismoment, no matter howselfish itmightbe, nomatterthat I had to steal it awayfrommoreimportantthings.

I inhaled then leanedforward, letting a slow easysmile stretch across my lips.“Did you notice that we’vecome into some unexpectedprivacy?”

Elinodded,agrinformingat the edges of hismouth. Itwas all the encouragement Ineeded. Closing my eyes, Ipressed my lips to his. Myskin heated, an avalanche of

tingles spreading over myface.Eli’s lipspartedandhistongue met mine, sweet andsoftandinviting.

His hands moved to mywaist and began to climb upmy back beneath my shirt.Hiswarmfingerslefttrailsoffire over my skin. My headbegantoswimwithsensation,my thoughts nonsensical likea fever dream. Eli pushed

himselfintoasittingposition,andIshifteddowntostraddlehis lap now. We movedslowly, quietly, afraid ofwaking Bollinger no matterhow heavy a sleeper sheseemed to be. His hands leftmybackandcuppedmyface,our kiss deepening. I placedmy hands on his shoulders,taut muscles flexing beneathmyfingers.

Things were escalatingquickly.Wewerelikea trainwith no brakes, headeddownhill with a drunkenconductor at the controls.Fearandthrillmetinsideme,blending into a singularfeeling:want.

ItriedtoconveythistoElithrough silentcommunication, kiss andtouch, anything but words. I

even thought it at him,employing telepathy andempathyboth.Forastretchofblissful, soaring moments, Isensed Eli’s answer, aresounding yes, more echothanconsent.

But then he began to pullback from me, withdrawingbothhisbodyandhismind.

“Wecan’tdothis,Dusty,”hewhispered.

I nodded, rememberingBollinger. “Do you want togo in there?” I motionedtowardthesleepingquarters.

Elishookhishead.“Right, Lance.” I bit my

lip. “I could use a sleepingspell on Bollinger. I knowhow to do it now.” It wastrue. I could sense Bellanaxcoiledandreadytoguideme.Eagerforit.

“How?”Elisaid,hisarmstensingaroundme.

I ran my hand down hischeek. “Same as before. I’mlearninghowtocommunicatebetterwiththesword.”

Eli’sexpressiondarkened.“No, Idon’twantyou touseaspellonher.Idon’tlikethatsword teaching you things.There’s something not rightaboutit.”

“Why?” I cocked myhead. “My sword is anumenvessel just like your wand.That means there’s a livingspirit in it,onewith thoughtsandapersonality.”

Eli glanced at the leatherband on his wrist, hisglamoured wand. “But mywandneverspeakstome.It’sjust there, just magic for metouse.”

“Maybeit’sadifferenceinthe type of vessel orsomething.”

“Orinthespiritithouses,”Elisaid.

Isighed,caressinghisfaceonce more. “There’s nothingto worry about from mysword. I promise.” I leanedforwardandkissedhischeek.“Sohowabout it?Shewon’teven know afterward, and

we’ll be free to do whateverwe want without worry ofsomeonefindingout.”

“No,” Eli said at once.“Nothere,notnow.”

Hiswords felt likea slap,the sharp, certain sting ofrejection.Iforcedmyeyestohis, afraid of what I wouldseethere.“Why?”

His expression softened,andhecuppedmyfaceagain,

running a thumb over mybottom lip, swollen from hiskisses. “Because this isn’tright. It’s not how it shouldbewithus.”

“What do you mean?” Ifelt my heart folding in onitself, disappointment acompressiveforce.

Eli released his hold onmy face and reached for myhands instead, squeezing my

fingers. “We’re dream-seers,Dusty.That’sabondfor life.Nomatterwhathappenstousin our everyday lives, we’llalways be connected by thispower.It’sanawesomething,but scary. We gotta makesure we don’t screw up bygoingtoofast.”

I inhaled, my quiveringheart solidifying to awe. Nomatter how much my body

may hate the idea of takingthings slow, it did makesense. Reckless wasn’t therightapproachtoforever.

“Okay,”Isaid.“Iseeyourpoint.” But I leaned forwardand kissed him again. Onelasttime,whilewestillcould.

Eli seemed to agree, andhis hands slid around mywaist,pullingmecloser.

The dorm room door

slammed open hard.Bollinger jerked awake, andfell out of the chair with amuffled thump. Eli and Iwrenchedourfacesapart,butit was too late to hide theposition of our bodies fromthepeoplenowcrowdingintotheroom.

There were two WillGuards—ofcourse,whoelse?—but also Lady Elaine. The

look she cast us was one ofmingled fury and fear. Igulped and started todisengage myself from Eli,climbingoutofhislap.

Lady Elaine swoopeddownon us. “Have you seenher?Heardfromher?”

I stumbled to a standingposition. “Who? What areyoutalkingabout?”

Lady Elaine grabbed me

by the shoulders. “Yourmother! Has she texted you,called, anything in the lastfewhours?”

“What?”Iwastoostunnedto freemyself from her grip.“No, of course not. Not fordays.”

Tears glistened in LadyElaine’s eyes. “Are you sureyou’re not covering for her?Please, Dusty, tell me the

truth.”Fear electrified my skin.

“No, I’m not covering, Iswear.What’shappened?”

“Your mother…” LadyElaine swallowed. “She’sgone missing. Just likeBethanyGrey.”

20

ThreeVisions

Lady Elaine turned away

frommeandsatdownonthenearest chair, sagging into itlike a warrior in defeat. Herlarge purse, bright pink andcovered in sunflowers, slidoff her frail arm and landedbeside her. The sight of herreactionscaredmemorethanthenewsaboutmymother.

“I’d hoped you werecovering for her,” LadyElaine said, dropping her

forehead onto her hand. “It’swhy I came here instead ofcalling, but I can tell you’renotlying.”Shelookedup,herexpression scornful as shetook inEli andme. “No, notlying. You two were clearlytoo busy with your ownindulgencesforthat.”

The accusation slid rightby me, my fear too slipperyfor anything to dislodge it.

“Howcanshebemissing?”“She’s just not there. I

don’t know how. At onecheckthecellwasfull,atthenext empty.” Lady Elaineturned her gaze ontoBollinger who was hoveringnearby and listening intently.“But this is a conversationthat requires privacy.” Shestood up and smoothed thefront of her khakis. “Go on,

Dusty. We can use the recroom.”

I started toward the door,butfrozeasLadyElainesaid,“Not you, Mr. Booker. Youwillstayhere.Youshouldbeashamedofyourselfafter thepromiseyoumademe.”

I turned back in time toseeElistiffenandhisfacegored. My stomach did abackflip.What promise? But

Icouldonlyguess.“And you”—Lady Elaine

swung toward Bollinger—“willnolongerbeassignedthis duty. Clearly, you areunfitforthepost.”

Bollinger’s nostrils flared,and I braced,waiting for thefireworks to start. ButBollinger only pressed herlips together and nodded. Soshe might be a horrible

person, but not a stupid one.Gofigure.

“Go on, Dusty,” LadyElainesaid,shooingme.

“Please,” Eli’s voice cutthrough the air. I turned tolook at him again, but hiseyes were fixed on LadyElaine.“Pleasedon’tdothis.”Do what? I thought,

wishinghecouldhearit.“It’s too late,” said Lady

Elaine. “You knew theconsequences.”

Then with that, shephysically pushedme towardthe door. I fought in vain toread some warning in Eli’sexpression, but he droppedhis gaze to the floor, his lipspressedintoatightline.

Fear thrummed inside mewith each step I took downthe stairs. I had never been

inside the rec room of FlintHall, but I had no troublefindingit.Ipassedbyiteverynight thatIcametoadream-session.WhenItriedtoopenthedoor,Ifounditlocked.

Lady Elaine brushed measide and then opened thedoor with a single wave ofher hand. I stepped insidefirst, blinking in the suddenbrightness. The room was

large and perfectly square,full of armchairs, severalottomans,onecareworn sofa,andnumeroussmalltables.Asingle pinball machineoccupied the far corner, itsred and blue lights twinklingagainst thewall.Acrossfromitwasapool table, thegreenvelvet top ratty and fadedneartoyellow.

“You two can wait out

here,”LadyElainesaidtotheWill Guards who hadfollowed us down fromEli’sroom.OfBollinger,therewasnosign.

Lady Elaine slammed thedoor closed and swung tofaceme.“Sitdown,”shesaid.

I dropped into the nearestarmchair and waited whileshe sealed the room againsteavesdroppers. When she

finished she took thearmchair opposite mine. Itdwarfed her small body,making her look like a veryold doll. Her thin, spindlylegs dangled several inchesabove the floor.Hermassivepursesatbesideherlikesomeloyalpet.

“Tellmeaboutmymom,”I said, before she had achance to steer the

conversationanywhereelse.Lady Elaine folded her

armsover her concave chest.“I’m afraid there’s little elsetosay.ShehasdisappearedasmysteriouslyasBethanyGreyand in much the samecircumstances.”

I ran my tongue over myteeth.“ButValentine thoughtmy mom had kidnappedBethany.”

Lady Elaine tsked. “Weboth know that was nevertrue. Just as we both knowyour mother did not killTitus.”

Relief made me feelweightless for a moment. Itdidn’t last long. My mom’sinnocence hardly matteredwith her missing. A chillinched across my neck as Iremembered the scythe. “Her

disappearance is about theDeath’s Heart, isn’t it?Whoeverstole itplans touseitonher.”

“Why do you say that?”Lady Elaine tilted her head.Her silver hair was pulledback in a severe bun, andlong, golden earrings hungfromherdroopinglobes.

“Thescythemymomwasholding in Eli’s dream,” I

said, guessing she wouldremember the descriptionfrommydream journal. “It’sasymboloftheGrimReaper,and that ties it to theDeath’sHeart, which is made fromtheheartofaGrimReaper.”

Lady Elaine cleared herthroat,andahumorlesssmileflitted across her lips. “TheDream Team astoundsagain.”

I didn’t smile in return,taking no pride in thediscovery.Icouldn’twithmyfearworseningbythesecond.“But why use the Death’sHeart on my mother, onBethany?Isitbecausethey’rebothNightmares?”

“Who can say?” LadyElaine rubbed her temples.“Nightmares are powerfulandararerformofmagickind

perhaps,buttomyknowledgethat makes no difference tothe Death’s Heart. Maybethey were kidnapped for amore personal reason. Likerevenge.”

“Against them both?” Igaped. “But they hated eachother.Howcouldtheyhaveacommonenemy?”

“They didn’t always hateeachother,”LadyElainesaid,

crossing one leg over theother. “When theywereyourage, they were friends, asclose as you and SeleneRiversarenow.”

Istared,wide-eyed,unableto imagine it. I wonderedbriefly what had comebetween them, but then thecontentsofEli’s latestdreamsoared into the forefront ofmy mind. “This is about

Marrow. The Death’s Heart,mymother,allofit.”

Lady Elaine waved meoff. “There’s no reason tojumptothatconclusion.”

“Yes there is.” I leanedforward. “The black phoenixwas in Eli’s dream tonight.Wewere on the barge again,the same one where we sawmy mother with the scythe,and the black phoenix was

there.”LadyElainevisiblypaled.

“That’s … that’s disturbingnews.”

Silence descended aroundus, broken only by the chirpand whirring of the pinballmachine.

Drawing a deep breath,Lady Elaine sat up straighterand fixed her gaze on me.“Disturbing yes, but also not

yourconcern.”“Excuse me?” I sat up

straighter,too,readytogettomyfeetandstartpacing.“Mymom is missing, kidnappedbyeitherMarroworsomeoneworkingforhim,mostlikely.Howisthatnotmyconcern?”

“Because,” Lady Elainesaid, “your primary concernneeds to be keeping thatobject around your wrist

hiddenandsafe.IfMarrowisback—”

“Yeah,yeah,Iknow.He’llbe coming for it.”Wrappingmyarmsaroundmyself,Ifellback against the cushions.“But I don’t see how doingnothingisgoingtohelp.”

“Don’t do nothing. Stayfocused on the dream andstay safe. Go to classes, doyour homework, and don’t

wander anywhere out of thenorm. Not for anything oranyone.”

Ibracedatherwords,fearsurging through me again. Ididn’t have to be psychic toknowwhatwascomingnext.

“Andevenmoreimportantthan that,” Lady Elainecontinued, her eyesnarrowing. “you must stopthese romantic interactions

with Eli. I thought he wouldhave self-control enough forthe both of you, but afterwhat I walked in on tonight,clearlynot.”

My face heated, but myinsides turned cold. “I’m oldenough to have romanticinteractions with any boy Iwant. And you’re not mymother.Youhavenoright totry to stop me. There’s

nothing wrong about myrelationshipwithEli.”

Lady Elaine did not reactto my outburst, her voicecalm,almostawhisperasshesaid, “There is plenty wrongwithitwhenyou’readream-seer.”

Thrusting out my chin, Isaid, “I don’t believe in thecurse.”

Lady Elaine sighed and

shook her head, herexpression more sad thanangry. “You don’t have to.It’s real and coming for youwhetheryoubelieveornot.”

I inhaled, all the baddreams swimming into mymind. It couldn’t be true. Itcouldn’t. Our feelings foreach other were in ourcontrol,ourchoice.Nocurse,nomagiccouldchangethat.

“But you’re right,” LadyElaine continued, her tonenowdiplomatic.“Ican’tstopyou from pursuing arelationshipwithEli.”

I stared at her, distrustfulofthesuddenswitch.

She waved a hand at me.“Oh, don’t look so shocked.I’ve known from thebeginning all I could dowasslow you down. You are

Moira’s daughter, after all,and nothing can stop youfrom going after what youwantbutyourself.”

I bit my lip unsure if Ishould take this as acomplimentornot.“Doesthismeanyou’regoingtocallofftheWillGuard?”

LadyElaine scowled. “Ofcoursenot.Adeterrentisstilla deterrent. No—” She

stopped and drew a deepbreath. “I’m just going toshare with you my vision ofyourfuture.”

Theworldseemedtopitchsideways for a second. “Idon’twanttoseeit.”

“Yes,Iknow.Butit’swellpast time. I’ve only held offthis long because Eli beggedme to, and because he sworethat he would be the one to

keep things distant betweenyou.” She made a disgustednoisedeepinherthroatasshepulledherpurseontoher lapandreachedinsideit.

Thepursewassolargeshecould have any number ofthings stowed in there—theentirecontentsofhermakeupdrawer, a portable DVDplayer,anUzi.Shewithdrewa round object wrapped in

thickblackvelvet.Shepulledback the cloth to reveal amirror the size of a dinnerplate.Golden filigree framedthe edge. For a moment Ithought it was elaboratedecoration,butthenIrealizedthose swirls and hard lineswere rune marks, similar tothe ones etched onto myeTab.

“Whatisthat?”Isaid,my

voice strangely tremulous.The mirror held undeniablemagic. The entire roomseemedtovibratewithit.

“It’s a scrying mirror. Ithelps focus my visions.”LadyElainepaused,hergazepenetratingassheturneditonme.“Andtosharethem.”

I gulped, fear constrictingmy throat.Whatever shewasabout to showmewas going

to be bad. Eli had seen italready, and it had botheredhim enough that he’d spentmonths trying to deny hisfeelings for me afterward.Would the same happen tome?Ididn’tthinkso.I’dseenvisions of the future before,allthetimeinEli’sdreams.Notlikethis.No,notlikethis.Thiswas

avisionaboutmyfuture.And

it wasn’t dreams andsymbols.

Across from me, LadyElaine summoned a tablewith her magic, setting itdown right in front of me.Then she gently placed themirror face up on the table.My gaze was drawn to theglass surface. A faint glowseemedtoemanateoutoftheglass.Withaneffort I forced

myeyesbacktoLadyElaine.“Idon’twanttoseethis.I

don’tcarewhatyoushowme.It’s not going to change mymind.”

“Maybenot,”LadyElainesaid. “Then again, maybe itwill.Icanonlyhope.”

My stomach clenched. Icould sense the magicgrowing in the room. Themirror’s surface no longer

lookedsolid,butliquid,likeIcould plunge my hands intoit.“This isn’t fair.All Iwantis to be free to kiss myboyfriend without having tohide like some kind ofcriminal.”

“Yes,it’snotfair,andyetit is,” Lady Elaine said, hervoice becoming almost achant. She laid her palmsagainst themirror’sedge,her

fingers splayed. “You havebeengivenagreatpower.Butno power comes without aprice. That is how magicworks. How the universeworks. All things kept inbalance.”

Hurt squeezed my chest,making my words come outbreathless. “I didn’t ask forthis power.What if I give itup?WhatifInevervisitEli’s

dreams again? Then we canbe together without anybodycaring.”

Lady Elaine’s eyesflashed. “Is that really whatyou would choose? A boyovertheabilitytoforeseeandstopgreatevil?”

Shame heated my skin.No,ofcourseIwouldn’t.But—“Mr.Corvussaysnomagicexists within a vacuum. If I

giveupmydream-seerpowerit will go to someone elseeventually,right?”

Lady Elaine shook herhead. “It won’t just transferelsewhere.No,ifyougiveupyour power our enemieswillgain power. They will growstronger, the world out ofbalance.”

I clenched my teeth,strugglingtoresistthepullof

the mirror, which was evenstrongernow.

“Look at it,” Lady Elainecommanded. “Your visionawaits.”

At her words, myresistancebroke,andIleanedforward,gazingfullyintothemirrorforthefirsttime.Foramoment, nothing but myreflectionstaredbackatme.

In the next, I was pulled

into the vision as ifdescending into a dream.Only, it wasn’t like a dreamat all. Itwas likewatching amovie in 3-D. I could onlyobserve, nothing more. Icouldn’t act or scream orprotest.Icouldonlywatchasthehorrorunfolded.

I saw Eli, and I sawmyself. We were standingacross from each other, our

stances one of anger—ofhate. We looked exactly aswe did now, no older. Thiscould be tomorrow or thenextday.

We were about to fight.Eli had his hand clenchedaround his wand, raised andpointed at me. Clutched inmy handswasBellanax, freeoftheglamour—threefeetofnaked steel, honed and sharp

andpulsatingwithmagic.JustasIsaw,Ialsofelt. I

wasintheheadofthisfutureme,sharingher thoughts,herfeelings like they were myown. Hatred burned in myguts;my heart quiveredwithit. I wanted him dead. Iwanted itmore than I’d everwantedanythingbefore.Thatwant was a living thing, awill, a force, acting inside

me,throughme.Eli felt it, too. Icouldsee

itburninginhiseyes.We fought. Spell after

spell, curse after curse. Heparried and I countered. Istruck,andheblocked.Butinthe end a Conductor was nomatch for a Nightmare, andhis pitiful wand was littlemore than a twig next toBellanax.

Finally, one of my spellsstruckhiminthehead,andhereeled backward, fallingdowninalifelessheap.Onlyhewasn’tdead.Notyet.Withrage and hatred burning likelitgasolineinsideme,Istrodeovertohim,Bellanaxraised.Don’t, Iwantedtoscream

but couldn’t. I had no voicehere.Evenworse,Iwantedtodoit.Iwastwopeopleatthe

same time, my current selfand my future self—twowants, two desires sofundamentally opposed, butneverthelesspresent.

The future-self won, thevision marching onward. Istopped before Eli’s pronebody. He was lying on hisback, his eyes looking up atme, pleading. I raised thesword, turning the blade

downasIraisedthehilthigh.And then with one quick,downward thrust, I drove thebladethroughEli’schest.

The vision shifted, theworld blurring before myeyes.When it cleared, I sawthatthescenehadreset.Onceagain, Eli and I faced eachother,ourmagicreadyforthefight.Onlythistime,itwasn’thatred I felt, but an

overwhelming sadness. TearsstreameddownmycheeksasI foughthim,butonceagain,hewas nomatch forme andBellanax. The final spellstruckandhefell.Iwantedtolook away as the vision-meapproached. I didn’t want toseethisagain.

But this time, I droppedBellanax to the ground as Iapproached.Then I straddled

himandkneltonhischest, aNightmare feeding. Only itwasmore than that. I wasn’tjust feeding—I was sendinghim into a forever sleep, asNimue had sent Marrow. Itwas a different ending, yetthe same as the first. I waskilling him all over again—only more slowly this time,condemningusbothtoalonglife together, but always

separate.Make it stop, I wanted to

scream,butasbefore Icoulddonothingbutwatch.

The vision shifted again,thedreamresettingforathirdtime. We faced each otheronce more, only this time Ifelt neither hatred norsadness, but a colddetermination. When Eliraised his wand, ready to

strike, I lowered Bellanax,opening myself up for theattack.Elididn’thesitate.Hisfirst spell knockedmedown.I fell backward, landing onmy back. Bellanax flew outof my hand, skidding feetaway.Eliwentafteritatonceand picked it up. Then heapproached me as I hadapproachedhimtwicebefore.He raised the sword high

abovehishead,bladepointeddown. He struck. I felt thepointtouchmychest,thefirstpangs of pain, and then theworld of the vision shatteredaroundmelikebrokenglass.

I foundmyselfoncemoreintherecroomofFlintHall.Pain filled my chest, and ittookme amoment to realizethat I was sobbing. Tearswetted my face and chin. I

couldn’tstopcrying.Lady Elaine watched me,

her expression hooded, butnot unkind. She waited formetogetaholdofmyself.

It had been so real. Evenmore real than a dream.Andunlike a dream, that sense ofrealnesswasn’tfading.Itwasas if those emotions, thosethoughts and memories, hadbeen imprinted on my brain.

Branded therewith a red-hotiron like Corvus and hisBorromean brand. Iunderstood more than everwhyElihadn’twantedme tosee.Itwasn’tthathefearedIwould believe the vision—itwas that he knew how itwould make me feel. As hemust’ve felt. As he was stillfeeling, I realized,remembering our latest

shareddream—mybodywithapuncturewoundthroughthechest—aswordwound.It wasn’t real, I told

myself.Itdidn’thappen.Yet.No! I closed my eyes,

fightingtogaincontrolofmyemotions. I reached forBellanax, finding comfort inmyindestructiblecompanion.

Slowly, the emotions

fadedenough forme toopenmy eyes and draw a breathwithout sobbing. Iwiped thetears from my face with thebackofmysleeves,andfacedLadyElaine.

Clearing my throat, Iasked, “If what you showedmewas the future, thenwhyweretherethreevisions?”

Lady Elaine looked as ifshe’d been expecting the

question. “There are alwaysthree. The future is neverfixed,butalwaysinfluxuntilthe moment it meets thepresent.Onevision is for thefirst choice and one for theopposite. The third is for thein-between, the hidden,harderpath.”

I stared at her, notunderstanding. I consideredasking her to explain, but a

more important pointoccurredtome.“Ifthefutureis in flux, then all three ofthemmight’vebeenfalse.”

LadyElaine slowly shookher head. “All three shareaspects that are certain. Thesituation is fixed—you andEli opposed. Only theoutcomesareinflux.”The outcomes. I

considered thevisions. In the

first Eli would die by myhands. In the second Iwouldcondemn him to a lifeimprisonedinadream,aslowdeath, once more at myhands.And in the third, he kills

me.Tears threatened once

again.Threeoutcomes.Threechoices. And in the end,whichwouldIchoose?

It was a question I neverwantedtoanswer.

21

SwordDreams

I didn’t avoid Eli the next

day,butIwantedto.Itwasanawfulfeeling,soatoddswiththe rest of me—the part thatwanted to grab hold of himandneverletgo.

“Are you all right?” hesaidasIsatdownbesidehimin the cafeteria for breakfast.We both knew he wasn’taskingaboutmymother.

Inodded,butsaidnothing.Ididn’t trustmyvoicenot to

betray how far from okay Itrulywas.

Eli touched my shoulder.“It’ll get easier. I promise.”He hesitated, his fingerspressing into my skin. “Andwe’llfindyourmom.”

I hoped both were true,butinthemeantime,Ineededtokeepmymindoccupiedasmuch as possible, fillingevery secondwith something

other than the memory ofLadyElaine’svisions.

Fortunately, I had plentytofocuson.Knowingwithouta doubt that Marrow wasinvolved changed things.Finding Titus’s killer stillmattered, but discoveringmoreaboutMarrowwasnowthe most pressing. Whenpsionics rolled around, Iwasrelieved to see Mr. Deverell

was back. I wasted no timeaskinghimifwecouldtrythepsychometry on the swordduring our session thatafternoon.Deverell agreed atonce, despite how tired helooked. Whatever sicknesshe’d been dealing with thelast few days had taken itstoll.

When I arrived at hisclassroom after class, I

immediately removed theglamourandplacedtheswordonthedeskinfrontofhim.

Deverellstareddownatit,his expression a mixture ofaweandfear.Helookedupatme. “Are you sure youwantme to help with thepsychometry? If what youtold me earlier is true, youmight not need me for itanymore.Yourbondwiththe

swordhasgrownvery strongindeed.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said,tryingtomakemyvoicefirm.Although there was a strongpartofmethatdidn’twanttoshare anything aboutBellanax with anyone, thebiggerpartofmeunderstoodthiswastooimportanttoriskmaking a mistake. I knewfrom class that some objects

were sensitive topsychometry. They wouldclose up at the first hint ofprobing like a touch-me-notplant.

“All right.” Deverell’ssmile looked careworn. Hishandsome facewas tired anddrawn, but there was a glintof anticipation in his eyes. Ishared the feeling. We wereabouttoembarkonajourney

nooneelsehadevertaken,todelve into the secrets of themostdangerousmagickindofalltime.

“How do we do this?” Iasked, anxiously shifting myweightfromfoottofoot.

Deverell motioned to thesword. “We will form amind-link, the nousdesmosweusedlastyear.Butwewillboth need to be touching the

sword for the psychometry.SinceIwillbeleading,Iwillneed to have the bigger holdonit.Withyourpermission,Iwillholdthehiltandthenyouwill place your hands onmine, touching as much oftheswordaspossible.”

“Okay.” I waved atBellanax. “You,uh,havemypermission.”

Deverellinclinedhishead,

then stretched his handtoward the sword.Hemovedslowly, carefully, his wholebodyrigidwithwarytension.

“It’s not going to biteyou,”Isaid.

An eyebrow rose onDeverell’s face,buthedidn’tlook up, his gaze focusedunblinkingly on Bellanax.“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.Magicalobjectslikethishave

a lot in common with wildanimals. They can bepredatorial, especially abouttheir space and about theirmasters.”

“Huh, well, in that case,you look like you’ve donethisbefore.”

Henodded,justonce.“Weused to catch snakesbarehanded back home, justforfun.”

I laughed, nervously.“That’s an interestingchildhood.”

“About as exciting as itgets in the Mississippibayou.”Deverellwrappedhisfingers around the bone-handledhilt.Mine. The thought struck

me hard, and I sucked in abreath.

Deverell picked up the

sword,bothhandsonitnow.Mine. Mine. Mine. It was

allIcoulddonottowrenchitfreeofhisfingers.

“Are you all right?”Deverell asked. He’d finallymovedhisgazeofftheswordandwasnowlookingatme.

With an effort, I schooledmyexpressionintosomethingotherthanascowl.“I’mfine.SoIneedtoputmyhandson

yours?”“Yes.” He turned toward

me, still moving cautiouslylikebefore.“Justputthemontop,with your fingers on thecrossguard.”

Ididasheasked,tryingtoignoretheawkwardsensationof touching my teacher. Mywhole educational life Ididn’t think I’d ever donesomething like this. But the

moment my hands were inplace, the awkwardnessvanished.ReliefthatIwasincontact with Bellanax againtookitsplace.

“Now,” Deverell said,“close your eyes and preparefor the nousdesmos. Let meknowwhenyouareready.”

Ididasheasked,takingafew moments to empty mymind,tomakeitopenforthe

mind-link.Itwassurprisinglyeasy, given all the worries Ihad cluttering my thoughts.Then again, Deverell and Ihaddone thisbefore.For thefirst time in days, I felt atpeace,safe.

“I’mready.”Deverell did not reply

with words, but a momentlater I felt his mind link tomine. Then leading me, he

engaged the sword, proddingittorevealitshistorytous,toshare its memories. It tookawhile, but eventuallyBellanax began to project.Thatwastherightwordforit.It was as if a movie screenhadappearedontheinsideofmybrain.

Isawanancientforest,thetrees large and the growththick, completely unmarred

by modern intrusion. One ofthetreeswastallerandwiderthantheothers,anditseemedtoformtheheadofacircularclearing.The tree had a darkgaping hole at its base,wideenough for a man to standinsideof,likeawoodencave.

At first, I thought theclearingwas empty, but thena woman appeared. Sheapproached the tree, facing

thehole.Icouldseeonlythebackofher,longhairhangingin loose curls down to herwaist. She wore a woolengownofdarkbluetrimmedingold silk. Iwatched herwitha growing sense ofrecognition.ButIcouldn’tbesure, not until she turnedaround.

She finally did a fewseconds later. Nimue I

thought, and I felt anothermindanswer,confirming thisstatement. Bellanax, Irealized. I scanned theclearing, looking for thesword. It had to be heresomewhere. This was itsmemory, after all. But asidefrom my great-greatgrandmother, the only otherliving thing was the blackphoenixperchedinthelowest

bough of the holy tree. Myheartquakedatthesightofit,and for a second, the imagewent blurry as I felt myselfclose to breaking away fromthemind-link.

But Deverell’s mindpressed against mine, strongandaffirming. I felt his calmcontrolwashoverme.

Feeling more certain, Istaredupatthegiantbird.For

the first time ever it did notlook threatening as it satthere, preening itself. Itlooked younger and smallerthan the black phoenix I hadfought a year ago. And as itadjusted its position on thetree limb, I noticed that thered and plumage of its tailreached further up its backthan I remembered, with alittle gold showing

underneathaswell.It’sbeautifulwhenit’snot

trying to kill you, I thought,and for some reason therealizationmademesad.

A stir of movement drewmy eye away from the birdandbacktothetreebelow.Adarkshapewasmovinginsidethehole in the tree, ahumanshape.Itsteppedforwardlikea living shadow, until it

finally reached the edge ofthe hole and sunlight shoneonaman’sface.Marrow.He looked exactly the

same—blackandsilveronhishead and beard, the sameslightbut fit build.Hewasaman both old and young atonce,ageless.

“Welcome back,Ambrose,”Nimuesaid, relief

shiningonherface.“How long have I been

asleep?”“Nearly eleven months

this time.” She motioned tothe tree. “And that was withthe help of the Great Oak’spower.”

Marrow scowled, hishands clenching to fists. “Solong.Ineedawaytomakeitfaster.”

Nimue shook her head.“No.Whatyouneedistostopthis madness. Stop fightingand putting yourself indanger. Why must youconstantly war? Why mustyouobsessoverthisvisionofuniting the kinds againstordinaries? There are otherways than violence. This isthe third time since I’veknown that you have

needlessly died. Died andbeen reborn. It’s not natural,Ambrose. It’s wearing onyou.” She paused. “It’schangingyou.”

His answering glareburned. “You know nothing.No death is needless. Witheach one I grow stronger,growclosertoallI’veworkedfor.” He turned away fromher, running hands through

his graying hair. He wore ared tunicoverblack trousers,Bellanaxsheathedathisside,The sword had lain next tohim the entire time he slept,the entire time his body andsoulhadrequiredtocompletetheresurrection.

“I need a way to shortenhow long it takes,” Marrowsaid,“butitjustkeepsgettinglonger and harder.” He

paused and turned his gazetowardtheblackphoenix,hisexpressiononeofreproachorperhapsdisappointment.Weneed toseemore than

this, I thought, sending itouttoward Deverell andBellanax.This is theMarrowIknew.Butwhatdidhe looklikebefore?

Immediately, the scenebegan to fade away and then

blurred into something new.This timewewere in a largecircularroomwiththickstonewalls. A castle tower, Irealized, catching a glimpseofabattlementbelowthroughthe nearby window, onecomplete with arrow slits. Asingle canopied bed stood inthe middle of the room, thecurtains drawn around it.Nimuesatbesidethebedina

plush armchair with anembroidery frame in front ofher.

For a moment nothinghappened, and then thecurtain began to move.Nimue stood up, pushing theframe aside. She reached forthe curtain and drew it therest of the way. Marrow’sfacepeeredoutather.Aslowwarmsmilecrossedhislips.

Helooksexactlythesame,I realized, my brain reeling.Allthoseyearsago.Hundredsof them, and he’d worn thesame face. How was itpossible?

Then I remembered aconversation I’d once hadwithBethanyGreywheresheclaimed that there were norecorded images of the RedWarlockanywhere.Somesay

hecursedhisownimage,shehadsaid. Itmustbe true.HisfacewasanAchilles’heel.Ifhis enemies had a way torecord his image and pass itdown, they and theirdescendants could target himforever. But since theycouldn’t, Marrow couldalways start over again, inanother country, in anothercentury, if he waited long

enough.Then I wondered why

Bellanax had been able torecord his image, but theswordsuppliedthatansweratonce—thisismemory.

“Is the fighting over?”Marrowasked.

Nimue nodded, herexpression now troubled. “Itis, but you nearly didn’tsurvive it. Your phoenix

struggledtofindyouamidthefighting.Ithoughtitwouldbetoolate—”

Marrow waved a hand atthe bird, standing on a perchnear the window. “He neverfailsme.…”Show me more, I thought

at Bellanax. The memoriescamefasternow,likeamoviemontage.IwatchedMarrow’sresurrection a dozen times in

adozendifferentplaces.Onewas on a tiny grass- andflower-covered island at thecenter of a silver lake.Another was in anunderground cavern notunlike theonewherewehadfoundNimue’stomb.Inallofthem he was alone. Thesewere from a time beforeNimue.

The more the sword

revealed the more exotic thelocations became, untilfinally we witnessed hisrebirth inside the newly builtTemple of Athena. I didn’tthinkanythingcouldtopthat,but the next one happenedinsideanEgyptianpyramid.

Each time Bellanax wasbeside him. The blackphoenix was there, too, onlyin the oldest memories, its

feathers weren’t black butscarlet and gold. We werewitnessing Marrow’s historyinreversetime,anditshowedthat the black phoenix hadgradually earned its name,each resurrection darkeningits facade, spreading likesomekindofcancer.

Once we witnessed hismany births, Bellanaxshowed us his many deaths.

Somewerenormal enough—stabbing with a spear, anarrow to the throat—whileothers were gruesome—abeheading, pulled apart bychariots, burned at the stake.But all of themwereviolent.Ineveryonehe’dbeenputtodeath. Killed by someone’shandororder.Itseemedhe’dnever knownanatural death,one fromold ageor sickness

or even tragic accident. Theclosest he camewas the firstone, not long after hediscovered Bellanax. He’dspent themajorityofhis firstnatural life searching for thesword of power. I tried toimaginewhatitwouldbeliketo experience so manydifferentwaystodie,tocarrythose memories forever. Itwoulddriveapersoninsane.

Even worse was when Irealized what all this saidaboutMarrow’s nature.Herewas amanwhowould neverstop. Over and over againhe’d made plays for power.Overandoveragainsomeonehad taken him down, forcedhim to retreat. But no oneever won. Nimue had comethe closest when sheimprisonedhiminthatdream.

Butshehadnotbeatenhim.Andneitherwillwe. I felt

a shudder pass through me.Unless we find a way to killhimforever.

IstartedtoaskBellanaxifhe knew a way, if he couldshow us, but the scene hadchanged again, drawing myattention back to it. Weseemed to have traveled fullcircle. Once more I saw the

clearing with the Great Oak.Nimue and Marrow werethere along with a group ofstrange men. They were allarmed, some with swords orbow and arrow, others withbattleaxes and maces. Theyall wore leather jerkins withno undershirt, their arms andchests bare. Although theirclothes were of differentcolors,therewasauniformity

to their appearance that toldme clearly that they were asinglegroup.

Ahostilegroup,Irealized,as they started to circlearound Marrow and Nimue.They did not draw theirweapons, but magic swelledintheairaroundthem.Thesestrange men were allmagickind.Butofwhat type,Ididn’tknow.

Four naturekind, fourwitchkind.Bellanaxprovided.FourNightmares.

I stared at them,completely transfixed. Allthree kinds here at once, andso many Nightmares amongthem—but why? I keptmoving my gaze from themtoNimuetoMarrowandbackagain. Although they werecircling around Nimue and

Marrow both, it was clearthey were only concernedwith the Red Warlock. Hewas the focus of all theirhostility.

Slowly and with dawningshock, I realized that alltwelve men bore identicalscars, visible on their barechests beneath the sleevelessjerkins. Across theirbreastbones the Borromean

rings had been branded intotheir skin. They were theexactshape, theexact image,asMr.Corvus’s.

22

HolyPlaces

Afterward,DeverellandIdid

notdiscusswhatwe’dseen.Istarted to tell him aboutCorvus,butheraisedahand,silencingme.

“Lady Elaine hasmade itclear that the Magi Senatedoesnotwantyou todiscussanything connected to theswordwithanyone,”hesaid.

I frowned as Iabsentmindedly reapplied theglamour toBellanax and slid

thesilverbandontomywrist.“Whynot?Youalreadyknoweverything. Or almosteverything.”

“I was given theimpressionitwasformyownsafety.” He offered me anapologeticsmile.

“Yeah, I guess that’s forthe best,” I said, although itwas halfhearted. With somuch going on, it would’ve

beennice tohaveanadult totalk to about all of this—onewho wasn’t threatening mewith visions of the future.Then again, it wasn’t as if Icould tell himmy suspicionsabout Corvus. I didn’t thinkhe would freak out—he’dalwaysbeentheposterboyofcool,likewhenhecaughtmesneakingintotheboy’slockerroomlastyear—buthewould

have to wonder how I knewabout Corvus’s scar in thefirst place. And short of apotentially disturbing lieabout witnessing teachernakedness, I doubted I couldtell him without implicatingPaul.Paul. I needed to talk to

himrightnow.Weneededtofigure out when it would besafetogotoCorvus’shouse.

I said good-bye to Deverell;then, stepping through thedoor, I pulled out my cellphone.

“Dusty.”Thevoicemademejump,

andIturnedtoseeElileaningagainstoneofthelockers.Heworehisgymclothes,hishairdarkwith sweat and his faceflushed. Despite his casualstance,Ifiguredhemusthave

raced here from gladiatorpractice, his breathing stilllabored.

“Hey,” Isaid,shoulderingmybag.Ibraced,waitingforhimtomakethenextmove.

His hesitation wasobvious,evenifitlastedonlya second before he cameforward and crushed meagainsthim.Thefeelingsandimages of Lady Elaine’s

visionrearedinsidemyhead,and alongwith theman urgetopushhimaway.Isuckedina breath, my body shaking.But then I buried the panicdeepdowninsideme.Iclungtotherealnessofhim,thefeelofhis armsaroundmybody,eventhesmellofhissweat.

Sinkingintohim,Ifeltthedizzinessretreat.

“How’d it go with

Deverell?” Eli pulled backfromthehug,buthekepthishands on my waist, as ifafraidtobreakdirectphysicalcontact.

“Good.Betterthangood.”I paused, catching sight of aWill Guard who had juststeppedintothehallway.

Eli glanced behind himthen turned back to me.“Comeon.Let’stalkinhere.”

Heledmetothenearestdoorandintoanemptyclassroom.He left the door open, butpaused long enough to peerout into the hallway. Iimagined he was giving theWillGuarda look thatstated—leaveusalone.Icouldonlyhopethemanwouldlisten.

A moment later, Eli wasnexttomeagain.“Spill.”

I plunged into the story,

telling him everythingBellanax had shown me.“They had the Borromeanbrand,Eli,”Isaid,comingtothe end. “Just like Corvus,and now I’ve got to find away to get to his house. Atfirst I thought we might justbe looking for the knife, butnow…” I stared at Eli, myeyeswide. “What if…whatif that’s where he’s keeping

them? Like in the basementorsomething.”

Eliranhistongueoverhisbottom lip. “I guess it’spossible. But either way weneed to check it out. We’vegot to find a time for you togo when we know he won’tbehome.”

“Easy,I’llditchtomorrow.We know he’s in class allday.”

“No good.” Eli’sexpression turnedstern.“Themomentanybodynotices thatyou’re missing from classthere will be wide-scalepanic.”

“Crap. This is soimpossible.” I smacked myfistagainstmypalm.

Eli put his hands on myshoulders, rubbing my arms.“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure

somethingout.”Peering up at him, I said,

“How?”He thought about it for a

couple of seconds. “I’ll conhim into revealing hisschedule. Shouldn’t be toohard.Icanusetheouroborosand the Iwatokeas a lead in.He is a history teacher.Whoknows,maybe I’ll even learnsomething helpful on the

way.”This would’ve sounded

like a thin plan from anyoneelse besides Eli. I had fullfaith in his ability. He knewhow to steer a conversationand he practically oozedcharm. “Okay. Can we do ittomorrow?”

“Yes, but I’ll do it bymyself. It’s easier to work aconversationoneonone,”Eli

said.“AndI’vegotthebettertimefor it.Corvushasa freeperiod right after my class.I’llhangback.”

Igrittedmyteeth.Ididn’tlike not being involved, butthenagain,Icouldn’tbesurethat I would be able to keepmy cool around Corvus. Notwith all my suspicions abouthim.“Allright.Ijusthopeweget lucky and he spills

something.”“If he doesn’t, I’ll find a

way to peek at his dayplanner.” Eli smiled. “Oneway or another, you’ll beheading to check him outsoon.Ipromise.”

***

Withalltheexcitementofthenight before and today, Ididn’t linger with Eli after

dinner,butwentstraightuptomy dorm, planning for anearly turn-in. At least, that’swhat I told the little voice inmyheadnaggingmeaboutit.

To my surprise, Selenecameupwithme.

“For the record,” she saidas she plopped down on herdesk chair, “I hate thisnondisclosurething.”

I crossed my eyes for a

second.“Ugh,Ihateit,too.Itsucks not being able to tellyouthings.”

Selenehuffed, foldingherarms over her chest. “Nokidding.” She started kickingherlegbackandforth.“So,ifwe can’t talk about yoursecretmission,whydon’tyoutellmewhat’sgoingonwithyouandEli?”

I winced, hating the

question, even though herasking it was inevitable.Selenewasfartooperceptiveabout people and feelings tohave missed the tensionbetween Eli and me tonight.Still, noone couldblamemefor wanting to avoid thepainful subject foras longaspossible.

“I’ll tell you about Eli ifyou tell me what you and

Lance were arguing aboutearlier.” I’d spotted themhavingaheateddiscussioninthe cafeteria hallway afterschool, but the moment theysawmecoming,theybothputontheirplay-nicefaces.

Anger flashed acrossSelene’s features. “It wasabouthishorriblefather,whatelse.”

I sworeonherbehalf and

then started to pick at thefrayingendofmyshirtsleeve.“What’dhedothistime?”

“Nothing,” Selene said.“Not yet anyway. But he’sthreatening to do all sorts ofthings. Lance wants to justblow him off and keep rightonlikenothing’swrong.”

“What do you want todo?” I said, looking up fromthe thread that had now

doubledinlength.Selene glanced away, a

faint blush rising to hercheeks.“Iwanttobreakup.”

“What?” Shockheightenedmyvoice.

“I mean, I want us topretendtobreakup,butkeepon seeing each other insecret.”

Istaredather,atalossforwords.

“Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat,” Selene said, finallymeetingmy gaze. “I know itsounds cowardly, but you’veno idea how bad it was lasttime. Lance started off justignoring it, but his dadworehimdownintheend.”

“No,Igetit.Ireallydo.”Ioffered her a commiseratingsmile. “But … um … don’tyouthinkyououghttohavea

littlefaithinhim?”Seleneshotmealooklike

I’d said something crazy.“YouthinkIshouldhavefaithinLance?”

Imadeaface.Itdidsoundcrazy,givenourhistory.“I’vedecided he can be an okayguy. Besides, he’s absolutelynutsaboutyou.Anybodycanseethat.”

She blushed, but waved

the comment off. “It’s timeforyoutotellmeaboutEli.”

I took a deep breath tosteady myself, and then IspilledoneverythingI’dseenin Lady Elaine’s vision. Itwas just as awful talkingabout it as it had beenwitnessing it—no sense ofgetting it off my shoulderswhenIfinished.

“That’s horrible,” Selene

said.Hereyeswerehugewithshock.

Ibitmylip.“Yeah,butdoyouthinkit’sreal?Arecurseslikethatreal?”

“Some of them,” Selenesaid, her tone far toodiplomaticformycomfort.

Fighting back tears, Idropped my gaze to myfrayedshirtsleeveoncemore.“Doyouknowofanywayto

breakacurse?” I tried to sayit jokingly, but it came outpatheticinstead.

Selene sighed. “Short ofkillingthepersonwhocastit,theonlywayI’veheardof isself-sacrifice.”

“You mean like dying intheplaceofsomeoneelse?”

Shenodded.“Buttheonlytrouble with that solution isyouendupdead.Whichisno

solutionatall.”I didn’t reply, the three

visions playing through mymindonceagain.Oneofusisgoingtodieeitherway.Ifthecurseistrue.

***

Elididn’tmanage to findoutCorvus’s schedule the nextday.

“But Iwill tomorrow,”he

reassuredmewhenwemetupafter practice. “Corvus hadsomewheretobeandleftinahurry, but not before I gothimtoagreetomeetwithmeafterclassestomorrow.”

“You’re skippingpractice?”

“Sure.”“But aren’t tryouts this

Saturday?”He shrugged. “Missing

one won’t make a differenceat this point, and it’s a smallpricetopayifitmeanssavingyourmom.”

I kissed him then, but Ihated the waiting, hatedfeeling idle when there wassomuchontheline.

Not that Eli was the onlything I was waiting on. ThelastIheardfromPaul,hestillwasn’t quite done with my

ID. I had no idea what wastaking so long, but I knewbetter than to ask. It wouldinvolve some technicalexplanation that wouldmakelittlesensetomytechnology-challengedbrain.

ButatleastEliandIhadadream-session that night.With Bollinger sacked, itseemedLadyElainewouldbetakingherplaceasmydream-

sessionescort.“Temporarily,” she said

when she greeted me at thedoor.Shewavedmeout intothehallway.“Howare thingsgoingwithDeverell?”

I glanced sideways at heraswewalkedalong,debatingwhat to share. My mom’swarningaboutnottrustingthepeople around Lady Elainehad come back tome in full

forcerecently.“Hedidn’ttellyou?”

“No. He’s underinstructions not to discussanything with anyone,includingme.”

Deciding the risk wasworth whatever insight shemightbeabletoshare,Isaid,“We tried psychometry on ityesterdayanditworked.”

“That’s good. What did

you find out?” She watchedme sidelong, her expressionanxious.

“Marrow’sworn thesamefaceallhislife…er…lives,Imean.”

Lady Elaine pursed herlips. “I can’t say I’msurprised to hear that. Itexplains why there are norecordedimagesofhim.Evennow the fewphotoswe have

ofhimfromhistimeteachinghere show only a blurredformwhereheshouldbe.”

Ishuddered,picturingit.Itwaslikesomekindofhybridvampire thing, only withphotographs instead ofmirrors. Fitting, consideringhis immortal gig. “And theblack phoenix, it wasn’talways black. It was all redandgoldinthebeginning.”

“Yes, but what aboutMarrow’s resurrection? Howlong did it take him to comeback?Howdidhedoit?”

By nowwe’d reached thefoyer, and I offered mycustomarywaveatFrankandIgor before answering.“Impossible to tell. The lasttimetookhimelevenmonths,but he had the help of the‘GreatOak’whateverthatis.”

LadyElainecametoafullstop and swung to face me.“The Great Oak is like…”She paused and glancedaround, checking we werealone. She must’ve decidedFrank and Igor didn’t countas she continued, “It’s liketheDeath’sHeart. It restoreslife.”

I inhaled, taken aback.The idea of a soul-sucking

tree seemed too perverse tobe true. I liked trees. Theywere big and old and alive.They shouldn’t be evil.“Restoreslife?Doesitstealitinthesameway?”

Lady Elaine startedwalking once more. “No. Itspower came from withinitself. It gave of its own lifeto restore it in others.And itcouldn’tbringback thedead,

but it could heal even themostmortalofwounds if theperson was brought to it intime.”

“That’s more like it,” Imuttered, falling into stepbesideher.

LadyElainenodded,moreto herself than me. “IfMarrow needed the GreatOak to restorehimself to fulllife back then, maybe he

needstheDeath’sHearttodothesamenow.”

Atremorwentthroughmystomach. “It makes sense.Only Idon’t thinkheneededit. Fromwhat I heard, it justhelpedhimrecoverfaster.”

“Or perhaps hisregenerative power isweakening. You said it wasthelast timehewent throughit,yes?”

“Right…” I trailed off,thinkinghard.“Butwhygotoall the trouble using theDeath’sHeart?Isn’ttheGreatOak still out there? Does itstillwork?”

Lady Elaine’s nostrilsflared. “It was destroyedduring the Second WorldWar. Magickind forcesworking with the Axispowers cut it down and

burnedit,rootsandall.”I stumbled at this news,

shock turning me clumsy.“How…why…whywouldtheydothat?”

Lady Elaine’s expressionturned grave. “To keep themagickind supporting theAlliesfromusingitspower.”

Several swearwords wentthrough my mind. Why didthepoor tree have to pay for

some stupid war? “I didn’tthinkmagickindtooksidesinordinarywars.”

“Magicorordinary,we’reallpeople.Andpeoplealwayspicksides,”LadyElainesaid.“Wecan’thelpwhat’s inournature.”

We walked along insilence for a couple ofminutes,bothofuslostinourown thoughts and worries. I

keptpicturing theGreatOak,sadness squeezing my chestat the knowledge that it hadbeendestroyed.Itwassuchawaste. So wrong. The GreatOak sounded like theoppositeoftheDeath’sHeart—its counterbalancing force.I wondered if another wouldeverappear.Treeswereborn,weren’tthey?Itcouldhappenagain.

I turned my head towardLadyElaine.“ArethereotherplacesliketheGreatOakstillaround?”

A cool wind blew acrossthe deserted campus towardus, and Lady Elainequickened her pace, pullingher coat tighter around herbody.“Notmany, I’mafraid.Mostof themhavebeenlost,destroyed,orhavegonedry.”

“Gone dry?” I huggedmyself, wishing I’d thoughttobringajacket.

“Yes. Many of thoseplaces are like wells. Theystore magic, but notnecessarily forever.Sometimestheybreakandthemagic seeps out. But moreoften they go dry. They getused up by magickind andbecome no more than

ordinaryobjects.”I squeezedmy hands into

fists,hatingtherealityofthis,eventhoughitwassomethingI saw happening all the time—and not just frommagickind. Ordinaries weretwice as bad. When I waslittle there’d been a woodbehind my house, but it hadbeen torn down last year tomake room for a housing

development. They hadn’tbeen magical trees, but ithardly mattered. Especiallyconsidering all the emptyhouses there were aroundtown. Why build new whentheoldwerestillgood?

With an effort, I pushedthe depressing subject awayand refocused. “What wheresomeoftheotherplaces?”

“Oh, there were healing

springs.Mysticalcaves.”Her words struck a chord

inside me. “And all of themareaboutrestoringhealthandlife?”

“Yes,moreorless.”My head spun, the

memories Bellanax hadshared taking on a deepermeeting. So many of theplaces where Marrow hadbeen resurrected were

magical like the Great Oakwas magical—restorative,healing places. Holy places,in the most fundamentalsense.Therewas theTempleof Athena, the pyramids. ItseemedthatMarrowhadbeenusing these things to helpspeed up his resurrectionfrom the beginning. Isupposed that confirmed thathe was behind the Death’s

Heart theft. Or moreaccurately, someone workingforhimwasbehindit,oneofhismanyfollowers.It has to beCorvus.…Or

at least he was involvedsomehow—the Borromeanbrandprovedit.

But how to fish forinformation about himwithout rousing suspicions?“The last thing the sword

showed us,” I said, taking apeekatLadyElainetogaugehow well she was listening,“was a group ofmen gettingready to attack Marrow. I’mprettysureitwasrightbeforeNimue locked him in adream. But what was weirdabout it was that four of themenwereNightmares.”

I deliberately stoppedspeaking, hoping she would

offer some insight, but shejust kept walking, her gazefocusedahead.

“Andevenmore strange,”I continued, “was that all themen were branded withBorromean rings on theirchests.” I indicated the area,pressing a finger to mybreastbone.“Righthere.Haveyou ever seen anything likethat?”

Lady Elaine consideredthe question. “I’m familiarwith theBorromean rings, ofcourse, but I don’t know ofany brands like you’redescribing.”

I frowned at her insurprise. I didn’t think shewaslying,butwhydidn’tsheknow about Corvus? MaybeValentine was keepingsecrets. Don’t trust anyone,

my mom’s warning camebacktome.

We walked on in silence.With the conversation at anapparent end, my mind soonbegan to wander. MemoriesofLadyElaine’svisioncamepressing in, digging, clawingatme.

ItonlyworsenedwhenwearrivedatEli’sdorm.Hewasalreadyasleeponthesofa,on

his back, just like in thevision.Seeinghimthatway,Iwasafraideventotouchhim.Itwasanautomaticfear, likebeing afraid of a growlinganimal or a fire burning outofcontrol.

“Go on.” Lady Elaineprodded me forward when Ijuststoodtherefrozen.

I turned my gaze on her.Youdidthistome,Ithought.

I wanted to say it aloud, tohurlitatherlikeacurse.ButIcouldn’t.IfIdid,shewouldthink she’d won, that she’dconvinced me to turn myback on my feelings for Eli.She hadn’t. I wouldn’t. Wewould fight ourway throughthis like we did everythingelse.

Despite the quake in mystomach, I turned away from

her, climbed on top of Eli,andenteredhisdreams.

23

Tryouts

His dream quickly became a

nightmare. Lady Elaine’svision followedme into it. Itwas already there, waitingwhen I arrived. Iwas on thebargeagain,driftingalongthedark still water. Voicesshouted ahead of me, on theother side of the curtainedplatform. Stepping past it, IsawEli standing across fromanother doppelgänger of me.He and the doppelgänger

faced each other with wandand sword drawn.My other-self trembledwith fear, tearson her cheeks; Eli trembledwith fury. The look on hisfacemadetherealmewanttostartcrying,too.

“Eli,” I said, waving athim.“Eli!I’moverhere.Thisis a dream, Eli. Snap out ofit.” But he didn’t hear me,completely fixated on the

fight.Unable to bear it a

moment longer I closed myeyes andwilled thedream tochange.Thedream-seercursehadnoplacehere,nobearing.We had more importantthings to uncover. Corvus, Ithought. The Death’s Heart,my mom, the Great Oak,Marrow.Iwilledthethoughtstotranslateintothedream,to

manipulate into signs andsymbolswecouldfollow.

But when I opened myeyes again, nothing hadchanged. Eli was stillengaged in the fightwith hisdream version of me. Mydoppelgängerhadloweredthesword,openingherselfupfortheattack.

“Stop crying. Fight me.Fight me!” Eli’s voice

seemed to shake the entireship,thedreamvibratingwithhisanger.

“Eli!” I shouted. Iwalkedover to him as close as Idaredwithout getting ejectedfromthedream.Butitdidnogood. He was lost to me,caughtinthefevergripofthedreamemotions.

He raised his wand,pointed. “Peiran!” he

screamed.Theattackspellstruckthe

othermeinthechest,andshefell backward, landing hard.Theswordskiddedoutofherhands.Eliwentforit,butthemoment he picked it up, thesword transformed into aknife.Thebladewasmadeofbone, slick and white anddeadly sharp. He turned theknife over, holding it like a

cleaver as he knelt over herpronebody.

“Eli,stop!”He plunged the knife

down. It sank into the otherDusty’s chest hilt deep. Mydoppelgänger and I screamedatthesametime.Terror,hurt,shock, it was a harmony ofpain.

The sound of it finallybroke the dream’s hold over

Eli.Ormaybe itwas thefeelof hot sticky blood poolingover his fingers, or the sightof my doppelgänger’s facefirst turning pale and thenblankasthelifeseepedoutofher.

“Dusty?”hesaid,hisgazeconfused as he peered fromher to me. He stood up,wrenchingtheknifefree.

“It’sme,”Isaid.“I’mreal.

She’s just a dream thing.” Ipointed to the doppelgänger,and then summoning all themagic and force of will Ipossessed, I vanished herfrom the dream. The onlysign of what had happenedwas the blood still stainingEli’s fingers and the knife inhishand.Elistareddownatitforamoment.

When he looked up, tears

stood in his eyes. Theyweren’tfalling,buttheywerethere. They made him lookbroken, defeated. The sighthurt meworse than anythingelsesofar.

“I didn’tmean it,Dusty.”Heshookhisheadasiftryingto convince himself asmuchasme.“Itwasjustthedream.Ithadme.”

“I know.” I tried to smile

butfailed.“It’snotyourfault.I was thinking about LadyElaine’s vision when Ientered the dream. I think Ibroughtitinwithme.”

Eli’s mouth closed, hisjawclenching.Aveinpulsedin his temple. “It’s not real.The curse isn’t real. Thiswon’teverhappen.”

I nodded, even though itsoundedlikehewastryingas

much to convince himself ofthis truth as to give mecomfort.

Hedroppedtheknifethenstepped closer tome. “I willneverhurtyou.”

“Iknow,”Isaidagain,myvoice firm and steady. Ibelieved him. He was realand he was here. LadyElaine’svisionwasjusthaze.Wewouldseeourwayoutof

ittogether.I leaned toward him,

wanting to kiss him,overwhelmedwiththeurge.Istopped myself just in time.We couldn’t do that here.And although I knew it wasjustalimitationofthedream,theseparationcutdeep.Itcutrighttotheheart.

***

Things were tense atbreakfast the next morning,the dream and visionlingering in both our minds.EliandIsatsidebyside,ourbodiestouchingcasuallyhereandthere,butourinnerselvesremained distant. I hated it,wishingIcoulddosomethingto make it better. But onlytimewouldhelp—andgettingthings back to normal. As

soon as we find my mom,we’ll be okay, I told myselfoverandoveragain.

Thewaitingbecamemoretortuous than ever. I spentevery spare moment goingover the police files withoutturningupanything.Thedaycrawledby,secondsimitatingminutes, minutes imitatinghours.WhenmysessionwithDeverell finally started, I

could barely concentrate, notknowing if Eli could betalking to Corvus right thismoment.

Afterward,Irushedoutofthe psionics classroom,expecting to see Eli waitingfor me in the hallway. Myheart sank when he wasn’tthere. Idugmyphoneoutofmybackpocket,hurryingofftoward Mr. Corvus’s

classroom.Where are— I started to

type,thenfrozeasIheardElicallingforme.

I spun around and sawhim coming down the hallfromtheoppositedirection. Ifrowned, wondering why hewas approaching from there,but my curiosity vanished atthe broad smile stretchingacrosshisface.

“You did it?” I said, myvoicebreathlesswithhope.

He answered me with ahug, lifting me off my feet.“Sunday morning,” he said,setting me back down. “Mr.Corvus attends a ten o’clockyoga session every Sunday.Youshouldhavea littleoveran hour to get in and outbeforehecomesback.”

“Yoga?”Isaid,laughing.

Eli grinned. “Now, now,don’t make fun. There’s noreason why men can’t enjoythatsortofthing.”

“Yeah but most menaren’t Mr. Corvus,” I said,imagining our imperialisticteacher inupward-facingdogor horse pose. It painted anamusing picture. Still, mostofmyhumorwasanoverspillof delight at this news. I

reached up and kissed him.“Thankyou.”

“What can I say?Anythingforyou.”

His words heated mywhole body, and for amoment, not even LadyElaine’s vision could bringmedown.

***

I texted Paul the news about

Corvus the moment we satdown in thecafeteria. It tookawhile as I had to carefullytranslate each word into thecode.

CorvuswillbeoutofthehouseonSundaymorningfrom10:00to11:00.Weneedtogothen.WilltheIDbeready?

Paul’s answering textcame back a few minuteslater. It was short and Idecodeditquickly:

Withanyluck.

“What does that mean?”Eli asked, reading over myshoulder.

“No idea.” I blew out abreath. I wanted to ask for

more details, but the codingprocess was arduous, and asbefore, I doubted I wouldunderstand much of theexplanation.

“Remind me to give youthe moonwort key and alockpick kit,” Eli said.“You’ll need it if Paulmanagestopulloffhispartintime.”

“He has to,” I said. I

couldn’t bear the thought ofwaiting another week. Paulhad to come through.Everythingdependedonit.

***

Friday came and went muchlikethedaybefore.Icheckedmy phone over and overagain for a message fromPaul. I hadn’t spotted himduring biology, and I was

starting toworry that hewasavoidingme.

But finally, less than anhour before my dream-session with Eli, his textcamein.

We’reready.

I couldbarely containmyexcitement,butIdidmybestto hide it when Lady Elaine

arrived. I didn’t want hersuspicious of my suddenchange inattitude.Butaswewalked along, each step Itook felt light and springy,my hope higher than it hadbeen in ages. Just one moreday,and then Iwould finallyget to do something to helpmymom.Andatleastagoodportion of tomorrow wouldbe taken up by gladiator

tryouts.Lady Elaine and I spoke

only briefly on the way toEli’sdorm.Therewaslittletotalk about. In the last twodaysthere’dbeennonewsonmy mother, other than thatthesearchforhercontinued.Ididn’tplaceanystockinthemfindingher,notwithBethanyhaving been missing for solong.

There were no new signsinthedreameither.Actually,asdreamswent, thisonewaspretty tame. Nodoppelgängers showed up,and the dream was suppleenough that I was able toshape the landscape to showustheclearingwiththeGreatOak. Marrow was there andso was Nimue, but the menwith the Borromean brands

didn’tmake an appearance. Iwas disappointed. If onlywehad someway of connectingthe dreams to Corvus. Thenthe magickind police wouldhave to searchhishome.ButtryasImightitdidn’tmakeadifference.

When the dream ended,Eli remained asleep, stillunder Lady Elaine’s spell. Ididn’t bother asking her to

take it off. Therewasn’t anypointwithherthere.Besides,hehadgladiatortryoutsinthemorning and needed thesleep.

“Good luck, tomorrow,” Iwhispered to him beforeleaving. I probably wouldn’tseehimbeforetryoutsstarted.He would need to eatbreakfast extra early to getthereintimeforthewarm-up.

I had plans to catch up onsomesleepmyselfandthentospendsome timewearing theshape-change necklacetomorrow. I needed to makesure the difference in sizewouldn’t screwme up.Withthe ID, getting through thegate should be easy, but Ididn’t want to raisesuspicions with any weirdbehavior—like bumping my

headonthecardoor.Selenewas asleepwhen I

got back to the dorm. Therewasnoneedtoenteradream-seer journal tonight—I’dgiven Lady Elaine therundown on our walk backhere—so I turned in aswell.But sleep was a long, longtimecomingforme.

***

Iwokelatethenextmorning.For several seconds I laythereinbed,mymindgroggyandblank.I’dbeensodeeplyasleep that coming out of itwas like trying to swimthrough jelly. I turned over,vaguely aware that Selenewasn’t in the bed oppositeme.Thatwasweird.Crap, gladiator tryouts. I

glanced at the clock beside

my bed, saw it was fiveminutes to ten, and had amomentary panic attack. Ileaped out of bed, grabbed afresh set of clothes, made apit stop in the ladies’, andthen booked it out of thedorm. The campus was asdeserted this morning as ithad been the night before. Itseemed the entire school hadturned out for gladiator

tryouts.WhenIarrivedatthegymnasium, there wasstandingroomonly.

Disappointed, I scannedthe bleachers. From downhere,Iwouldn’tbeabletoseea thing. Then I spotted asingle, tiny seat four rowsdown from the top, close totheaisle. I headed for it, andsoon realized the occupantsofthatrowwerefreshmen.

The one nearest the aislewas a girl clearly here byherself.The sliverof a spacenexttoherwasonlyinchesinlength, but it might as wellhavebeenamilewide in theway it alienatedher from therest of her classmates. Thegirl had brown hair, aprominent nose, and roundfull cheeks. When she sawmecoming,hereyesdropped

andsheseemed to fold inonherself. I could almost hearher thoughts—please don’ttalk to me. Please don’tnotice me. I’m not worthnoticing. If you talk to me, Imightdieofembarrassment.

I sighed, understandingthat feeling all too well. Istoppedonelevelbelowhers.Thensummoningthebiggest,friendliestsmileIpossessed,I

said, “Hey, do youmind if Isitthere?”

Thegirlvisiblypaledthengaveasingleawkwardjerkofherhead.

“Thanks,”Isaid,myvoiceoverlybright.“Yousavedmyneck. I overslept thismorning.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,”shesqueaked.

I beamed at her. “Yeah,

someofmyfriendsaretryingout today and they would’vekilledme if I didn’t get heretoseeit.”

“Uh-huh. That’s great.”Oh God, please stop talkingto me, her expression said,but perversely this justmademewant to talkmore. I wasclosetobabblingasItoldheraboutSelene,Lance,andEli,but Ididn’tcare. Iwanted to

coax her out of her misery.To my triumph, she finallystarted to relax a little andtalkback.

The tryouts started offwith the individualevaluation. When the firstcontender, Nick Jacobi,finally took the field, thecrowd whooped and clappedwith anticipation. Nick wasan Ira demon, the kind that

feeds off rage. He put in astrong performance, blastinghis way through a line ofsenior gladiators to capturethe flag set at the top of thetallest structure at theoppositeendofthecourt.

Next upwasOliverCork,a dryad. He fared less well,getting tagged out twominutes into the round.Afterhim came Jarrod Ackles,

Deanna’s twin brother. Hegot taggedout four feet fromthe flag. I didn’t know thenext two boys, both of themseniors. Both lasted only acouple of minutes beforebeingtakendown.

Then finally, it wasSelene’s turn.Shekilled it—almost literally. Like Nick,she’d faced an entire line ofsenior gladiators. But unlike

him,shetookdowneveryonewithaquickvolleyof spells.I screamedand leaped tomyfeet as she grabbed the flagandhoisted itup.Besideme,my new friend Veronica didthesame.AndwhenImovedin for a fist bump, shereturned it with enoughenthusiasm my knucklesstungafterward.

We sat back down and I

anxiously waited for Eli andLance. Only, some twentyminutes later, the announcersaid,“Andthatdoesitfortheindividual rounds. We willnow move on to the teamportion of our tryouts,featuring two-team capturethe flagwith amixof seniorandhopefulplayers.”

“What?”Isaid,gaping.“I thought you said you

had three friends tryingout,”Veronicasaid.

“I do. There has to besome mistake.” With myworrygrowingbythesecond,Ipulledmycellphoneoutofmypocket.Tomydismay, itwas turned off. I switched iton and stared at the screen,certaina text fromEliwouldappear, some explanation forwhyhehadn’ttakenthefield

fortheindividualround.There was no text. No

voicemail.Nonothing.OnceIacceptedthistruth,

I sent Selene a text—wherearetheboys?Ifolloweditupwith a dual text to Eli andLance—Whereareyoutwo?

Several minutes went bywithno reply fromanyone. Isoon realized why Selenewasn’t answering when she

came running out onto thegame field with fourteammates. The matchstarted, and I watched itunfold, my worry for ElitakingabackseattothemoreimmediateworryforSelene.Iwanted her to succeed, buttheteamtheywereupagainstwas good—they’d alreadytaken down two challengingteams.Mereminutes into the

match, three of Selene’steammates fell in rapidsuccession, including NickJacobi.

The four players on theopposingteam—threeseniorsand one hopeful—started tosurround her. They did itslowly, certain of theirvictory. I half-suspected theywere giving her a chance tosurrender,notwantingtohurt

theonlygirl.But once again, Selene

proved that underestimatingherwasabadidea.Theentireaudience gave a gasp ofsurpriseasSeleneleapedintotheair,hertwomassiveblackwings expanding out aroundher.Somehowshe’dmanagedto modify her uniform toallow for her wings to comethrough.

Culpepper, I suspected. Itseemed maybe she’dborrowedmorethanacoupleofhelmets.

WithSelenenowairborne,the other teamdidn’t stand achance. She swooped downon her enemies, terrifyingthem into making mistakes,spells and curses shootingwide as she dodged inbetween them. Her spells

found their mark though,executed with perfectaccuracy.

By the time she went fortheflag—flyinguptoitratherthantakingthelongwayoverthestructures—therewerenoenemies for her to worryaboutatall.

Theaudienceerupted intoapplause when Selene onceagain held up the flag. She

carried it down to the floor,landing gracefully in themiddleof thefield,herblackwings fanned out behind herlike billowing royal robes.Then she marched ittriumphantlyoutof thegamefield, serenaded by thecheering,whoopingcrowd.

“Wow, she’s amazing,”saidVeronica.

“Tell me about it,” I

replied. Then standing up, Isaid a quick good-bye andhurrieddownthestairstothegym floor. I pushed andelbowedmyway through thecrowd and dashed into thegirl’slockerroom.

“Selene!”Ishouted.She stopped and spun

around.Herfacelitupasshesawme.

“Where’sEliandLance?”

Isaid,racingovertoher.Her triumphant look

blurredintoconfusion.“Whatdoyoumean?”

“They didn’t compete fortheindividualround.”

“What?” Selene’s eyeswidened.“Areyousure?”

“Yes,I’msure.”Iresistedthe urge to shake her in mypanic. “Have you seenthem?”

“No. Not once all day.I’ve been avoiding them onpurpose.”

I exhaled, fighting backfear.“They’renothereatall,Selene.”

“Did you try theirphones?”

“Both. No answer.Something’swrong.”

She nodded and thenstarted pulling off her

gladiator gear, her blackwings retreating into herbody. “I’m finished withmytryouts. Let’s go check theirdorm.”

Five minutes later, wewerepoundingonthedooroftheirdormroom.Tensecondsafterthatwewerebustingourway inside. There was nosign of either of them in theliving quarters, and Selene

and I got in theway of eachotheraswebothattemptedtogo through the door into thesleeping quarters at the sametime.Selenewon,heading infirst. Her scream of alarmstruckme like a knife to thechest. I gasped withoutknowing why, my terrormultiplying.

Then I managed to peeraround her. I didn’t scream

and Ididn’t faint at the sightbeforeme,althoughIwantedto do both. Lance was lyingin an awkward heap on hisbed, as if he’d fallenbackward into it. His headwastiltedback,almostoutofview,but I could see enoughto spot the blood seepingslowly out of a gash on histemple.

Withmyheartflutteringin

mychest,Iturnedmygazetothe other bed. It was empty.Eliwasn’tthere.

Eliwasn’tanywhere.

24

HiddenTarget

Lance’s injury was serious

enough that they tookhim toVejovis, the magickindhospital. Detective Valentineorganized the search effortsfor Eli—entire squadrons ofpolice officers, Will Guards,faculty and staff, evenstudents pitching in to combeveryknowninchofArkwell.

Iwantedtosearchforhim,too, but I was sent to theprincipal’s office for my

safety, four armed guardsposted outside the door intothe conference room. Selenewent with Lance to thehospital. I was worried forher, knowing that Lance’sfather would be there sooneror later. But that worry wasnothing compared to what IfeltforEli.

Several hours later therewas no sign of him. Deep

down, I’d known therewouldn’t be. Even beforeLady Elaine came to tell meher suspicions, I’d knownhe’d been taken by the sameperson who had my motherand Bethany Grey, the samepersonwhohadpossessionofthe Death’s Heart—aphantom with the ability tocome and go as he chose,leaving behind no trace,

nothing but the absence ofpeopleIcaredabout.

The thoughtofElihavinghis vital essence drainedmademe feel as ifmy bodywerebeing turned insideout.Myheart ached;mystomachwas a leaden ball in mycenter.

LadyElainelookednearlyas distraught as I felt whenshesatdownacrossfromme,

the long, narrow conferenceroom table between us. Thesight of her distress onlyworsenedmyown.

“Don’t you have anysuspects yet?” I said, myvoice pleading rather thanaccusatory. Please say yoususpect Corvus, I silentlyadded. It took allmywill tokeep from telling her mysuspicions. I didn’t owePaul

much, but I did this—he’dhacked those files for me. Ifhe hadn’t, I never would’veseenCorvus’sbrand.ButEli ismore important

thanPaul, the thought flittedthroughmymind.

Sorrow filled LadyElaine’seyes.“No,I’mafraidwe don’t. You can’tunderstand how clever thisperson is. There’s no trace.

Nothingatall.”I slowly nodded. I

understood better than sheknew. Marrow had made ahabit of recruiting clever,powerfulpeople tohiscause.Themagickind parliament inthe UK had never been ableto figure out who freedMarrow from his tomb,either, and my mom hadspent months trying to, as

well.Something clicked inside

my brain—a puzzle piecefallingintoplace.“Itmustbethesameperson.”

“What?”LadyElainesaid,browfurrowinginconfusion.

I leaned toward her. “ThemanwhofreedMarrowfromhis tomb. My mom wastracking him. She wasconvinced he was here at

Arkwell. What if it’s thesame person behind all ofthis?”

“It’s possible.” LadyElaine grimaced. “But yourmotherhadsuspectedhewashere for weeks and couldneverpinhimdown.”

No,shecouldn’t.Ibitmylip, hating myself for lettingthat flash drive get ruined. Ifonly … but there was no

point dwelling on it now. IneededtostayfocusedonMr.Corvus. Once again the urgeto tell Lady Elaine what Iknew came upon me. Thistime, I acted on it, seeing away to shed light on himwithoutimplicatingPaul.

Clearingmythroat,Isaid,“You don’t think it wasMr.Corvus,doyou?”

Lady Elaine cast me a

suspicious look. “Why onearthwouldyousaythat?”

Iwriggled inmyseat, tooaware of the thin ice I wassliding on. “Because he’sa … a Nightmare. AndValentine thought only aNightmare could’ve done it.That’s why he suspected mymom. But with her andBethany missing, that leavesonlyCorvus.”

LadyElainenarrowedhereyes at me. “How do youknowhe’saNightmare?”

I began to fidgetwithmyhair. “I saw him in the darkonce. His one eye wasglowing.” I could tell shewasn’t convinced, andgrowing desperate I plungedon, “And… and he has theBorromean rings branded onhis chest just like the

Nightmares who confrontedMarrow. I’ve seen that, too.”Ibitmylipandhopedforthebest. I hated putting Paul atrisk,but if ithelpedsaveEli,it was worth it. I won’t telleven if they torture me, Ithought. I was aninvestigator, of sorts, and nomatter how cheesy it mightmakemefeeltothinkit,Ihadarighttoprotectmysources.

ForamomentLadyElainedidn’treactatall,onlystaredat me like I was some newand strange creature she’dnever seen before. “I don’tknow how you learned thesethings aboutMr.Corvus, butyou must swear to me thatyou won’t breathe a wordaboutthistoanyoneelse.”

An icy breath seemed toblow against the back ofmy

neck.“Why?”“Mr. Corvus is working

for me. Or with me, Isuppose,tobemoreaccurate,and I have vouched for himwithValentine.”

My stomach flipped overat this news. Suddenly mymom’s warning not to trustthe people around LadyElainedeepened.What ifmymom had known about

Corvus and Lady Elaine?What if she had suspectedhim?

Trying to keep my voicesteady, I said, “What is hedoingforyouexactly?”

Lady Elaine shook herhead. “I’ve already told youmorethanyouneedtoknow.But you must swear to keepthistoyourself.WhatCorvusis doingmust be kept secret.

Even the Magi Senate don’tknow about him. There aretoo many people in highplaces who can’t be trusted,Dusty.”You got that right. I

nodded,wonderingifshewasone of those people,inadvertentlyornot.

“Promise me,” LadyElaineinsisted.

“I promise,” I said, and

myvoicesoundedsteadyandsure, asbelievable as I couldmake it. “Iwon’t sayawordaboutCorvus.”

Lady Elaine smiled,looking relieved. I was gladto see it. The last thing Iwantedrightnowwasforhertosuspectmytruefeelings—Iwas more certain than everthathewasuptonogood.

And first thing tomorrow,

Paul and I would be on ourway to finding out the realtruthaboutMr.Corvus.

***

That evening, Paul and Iworkedoutthefinaldetailsofour mission through a seriesof short, cryptic textmessages. I spent the rest ofthe day wearing the shape-change necklace around my

dorm room, trying to getcomfortable in the taller,largerbody.

Selene returned from thehospital a few hours afterdinner with the news thatLancewasstillunconscious.

“Thedoctor’ssaiditwasaphysical attack and not amagicalone.”Selenesoundedperfectly normal as shespoke, but her eyeswere red

fromcrying.“Hehasswellingon the brain, so they’rekeeping him asleep for now.Theymight try to revivehiminthemorning.”

“Dothey thinkhe’sgoingtobeokay?”Isaid.

She nodded. Then herexpression darkened. “Let’sjust hope he saw whoattackedhim.”

“Yeah, that would be

great,”Isaid,butIdoubtedit.This guy was too clever forthat. I waited, expecting hertotellmemore,butwhenshedidn’t I quietly asked, “WasLance’sfatherthere?”

Fresh tears blurredSelene’s eyes. The wetnessmade them lookmore indigothan ever. “Yes, he wasthere.”

“Whatdidhedo?”

Selene exhaled, the soundclosetoasob.“HedemandedI leave.” She thrust out herchin, her tear-filled gazefierce. “But I refused. Notuntilthedoctor’stolduswhatwashappening.”

“Good for you,” I said,trying to smile, but mostlyfailing.

She nodded. “And I’mgoing back first thing

tomorrow.He can’t keepmeaway.”

Her bravery brought meunexpected comfort. Despitemy eagerness to investigateCorvus, I was anxious aboutit, too. So much could gowrong.Wemightgetstoppedat the gate, the car couldbreakdown,orwemightnotbeable toget into thehouse.And there was the worst

possibility of all—that wemightnotfindanything.

But no, I couldn’t dwellon that. We had to findsomething or Eli and mymommightbegoneforever.

***

I woke early the nextmorning. Even though Iwasn’t hungry, I went downto the cafeteria with Selene

and forced myself to eat. Icould tell she was forcingherselftoeat,too.Itwasasifboth of us were preparing togo to battle against enemiesunseenandundefeatable.

Finally,aneternitylater,itwas time to go. Selene and Iwalked together to the mainparking lot outside the frontgates. I waited until she’dgotten into the car with her

mom, then I headed for myrendezvous point with Paul,just around the corner of thenearest building. Fiveminutes later he still wasn’tthere, and I started to paceandfretwithworry.

“Hey,”someonesaidfrombehindme.

Ijumpedandspunaround,startledbythestrangevoice.Irecognizedthemanasoneof

the Menagerie workers,Paul’sotherform.Oratleast,I thought it was. “Paul? Isthatyou?”

He nodded. “Sorry I’mlate. Had to get these.” Heheld up a pair of car keys. Iwasrelievedtoseethem.Mr.Corvus’s house was a goodfifteen-minute drive fromcampus.

“Okay,” I said, rubbing

my sweating hands together.“Arewereadythen?”

“As soon as you put onyour costume.” Paul said,motioningtome.

“Right.” I took a deepbreath and pulled out theshape-change necklace. ThemomentIsliditon,Ifeltthatawfulstretchingfeelingcomeover me, painful withoutpain. A few seconds later, I

stood several inches higherthan before—the differenceputting me an inch or twoshorter than the form Paulwas wearing. I turned in aslow circle, adjusting to thenewsize.

“Looking good,” Paulsaid. He reached out andtouched my arm. “I’m sorryaboutEli.”

I swallowedandmanaged

a nod. I didn’t want to talkabout it. I was certain thattears would arouse suspicionintheguardsatthegate.Withan effort, I schooled mystranger’s expression intosomething that I hopedlookedcalmandinnocent.

“Let’sgo,”Isaid.Paul headed around the

corner and into the parkinglot. He held up the keys and

double-pressed the lockbutton.Acaralarmsquawkedonce in the distance. A fewmoments later, I pulled openthe passenger door of a blueFord Focus. The car wassmall, a fact I was hyperaware of inmy bigger, tallerbody.

As Paul sat down andstarted the engine, I glancedbehindme. “Couldn’t I have

just ridden in the trunk?” Isaid, turning back. It seemedlike that would’ve been awhole lot easier than all thebusiness with the ID andhacking Arkwell’s computersystem.

“Nope,” Paul said,backing out of the spot.“Therearesensorsonthegatethat check for that sort ofthing. They’re magical

sensors. They check for anykindofconcealment.”

I raised a hand, touchingthenecklacearoundmyneckwith the tip of my finger.“Won’titdetectthisthen?”

“No,” Paul said, hisattitudeconfident.“Thesearethe best shape-changenecklaces around. Nearlyimpossible to detect. Imean,they’re based on shape-

changermagicafterall.”“I hope you’re right,” I

muttered, but Paul didn’treply. We’d already reachedthegate,andhewasbringingthecartoastop.

Aguardsteppedoutofthegatehouseandapproachedthedriver’s side window.Wordlessly,Paulhandedhimtwo IDs, each showing ourborrowedfaces.

The guard scanned bothIDs with some electronicdevice he held in his otherhand. The light on it flashedred to green, red to green.Then he handed both IDsback to Paul. “Have a niceday.”

“You, too,” Paul said.Hewasted no time in driving usthrough the gates and outontothestreet.I inhaled, just

now aware of how shallowmybreathinghadbecomethelast few minutes. My heartfeltlikeaherdofstampedinghorsesinsidemychest.

Paul, oblivious to mydistress,gazedsidelongatmeandgrinned.“Tooeasy.”

“Yep,” I managed, andthen I sank back against theseat,tryingtosavorthereliefthatwe’dmadeitthroughthe

firstbighurdle.As we drove along, Paul

pulled his cell out of hispocket and brought up themap app. It took us downseveralmaindragsandfinallyonto the side streets of anunremarkable neighborhood,one so ordinary, I found ithard to believe that imperial,eccentric, history-obsessedMr. Corvus would ever

choosetolivethere.When I spotted his actual

house ahead of us, I wascertain there had to be somekind of mistake. It was aperfectlyordinaryranch-stylehomeon a sleepy cul-de-sac.I stared at it, strangelydisappointed. Itwas the leastlikely house to holdsomething as sinister as theDeath’sHeartand itsvictims

inside.“Where are we going to

parkthecar?”Iasked.“Right in the driveway,”

Paul said, alreadyslowingusdown.

“Inthedriveway?Areyoucrazy?”

He laughed. “A little,maybe.But the bestway notto get noticed in a place likethisistobeobvious.Nothing

draws suspicion likesuspiciousbehavior.”

Isupposedhehadapoint.Imean,whowouldbelieveacoupleofprowlerswouldjustparktheircaroutsideinbroaddaylight and knock on thedoor?Theywouldassumewewererelatives,stoppinginfora visit. Or maybe we werehere to house-sit. I waswillingtobetthatMr.Corvus

wasn’t friendly enough withthe neighbors for them to bethat concerned about hiscomingsandgoings.I’dspentplenty of time inneighborhoods like this, andpeoplegenerallystayedoutofotherpeople’sbusiness.

That was Americansuburbia for you—leave mybusinessaloneandI’llignoreyours,too.

Paulpulled the car all theway up to the garage door,and killed the engine. Iclimbed out, smoothing myhair back and adjusting mypants, which felt strange onmystranger’sbody.

MyanxietyspikedwhenIspotted the next-doorneighbor sitting on his backporch. The guy had a cup ofcoffeeandabook,but tomy

reliefhedidn’t lookourwayonce.

Tapping my pockets forthe contents I’d hid insidethembeforeleavingthedorm,I headed for the front door.Paulfollowedafterme.

“Should we try themoonwortkeyfirst?”Iasked,reaching into my pocket forit. Eli had given me both itand the lockpick kit late

Friday. The moonwort keywould be easiest, but therewas no guarantee it wouldwork. Mr. Corvus kept hisoffice on campus barredagainst any kind of magicalmeans for breaking in. Iwashoping he wouldn’t be soparanoid about his off-campushome.

“Mightaswell,”saidPaul.I pulled the key frommy

pocket and slid it into thelock. It went in awkwardly,its moonwort consistencymaking it flexible. Once itwasinasfarasitwouldgo,Iturned it to the right only tobemetwithresistance.

“Damn,” I said, pullingthekeyoutagain.“Nogood.”I glanced at Paul, my pulsequickening.

“You’ve got the lockpick

kit, right?” he said, hisexpressionpinched.

I nodded. I knew how touse the tension wrench andthe rake, but I wasn’t nearlyasgoodatitasEli,whocouldjimmy a door in seconds.Still,therewasnothingforit.I reached into my oppositepocket,pulledoutthekit,andsettowork.

Several minutes later I

was still at it, the tools slickin my sweaty hands and myfrustration building. I waskeenlyawareofthenext-doorneighbor.Wewereoutofhisline of sight, but that didn’tmean there weren’t otherpryingeyeswatchingus.Andithad tobeobviouswhatwewereuptonow.Thesoundofthe lock rattling while Ijiggled the tools back and

forthwaslikeanalarmbell.“This is not working,” I

saidthroughgrittedteeth.“Here, letme try.” Paul’s

hand descended on my armand he moved me aside. Ibarely had time to protestbefore he’d conquered thelock and was pushing thedooropen.

“Wow,” I said, letting offa lowwhistle. “Where’d you

learntodothatsoquickly?”“I didn’t.” Stepping into

thehouse,heflashedagrinatme over his shoulder. “I’mjustgoodwithmyhands.”

“Ifyousayso.”Icouldn’thelp but be impressed. I’dspent hours practicing withthelockpickandstillfailedatit.

I stepped in behind himand pulled the door shut,

locking it again just in case.ThenIturnedmyattentiontotheroominfrontofme.OncemoreCorvus’shousefailedtomeet my expectations. Theliving room was perfectlynormal, the kind you wouldseeinjustaboutanyordinaryhouse. There was a greensofa, a matching love seat,and a plush leather armchairset around a massive flat-

screen TV. The fireplace offtoonesidelookedmorelikeadecoration than anythinguseful.

“Are you sure this is theright address?” I said,glancing at Paul who wasalreadymakinghiswaytothedoorintothenextarea.

“I’m as sure as you are.You saw the police files,too.”

I sighed, knowing hewasright. “Let’s check out therest.” But before doinganything else, I reached upand pulled off the shape-change necklace, stuffing itintomypocket.

“What are you doing?”askedPaul.

“I’ll have an easier timebeing my own size. I don’twant to break anything.” I

stretched my arms over myhead, shaking off thelingering feel of the shape-change.

“Good point,” Paul said,reaching up to remove hisown necklace. It was astrangerelieftoseehiminhisnatural form. Stuffing thenecklace into his pocket, hestepped into the doorway tothe next room and looked

backatme.“I’llgothisway.Yougothatway.”Hepointedfirstleftthenright.

I nodded and followedafter him through the door,feelingmuchmoreatease inmyown skin.To the left thehallwayledtothekitchen.Totherightweremostlikelythebedrooms, although Icouldn’ttellwithallthedoorsclosed. I stopped at the first

oneandpusheditopen.“Whoa,” I said, stepping

inside. Now this was morelike it. In an ordinary housethiswouldhaveindeedbeenabedroom, but right now itlooked like an alchemist’sstudy.A large tableoccupiedmost of the room, its surfaceclutteredwithbowls,jars,andvarious utensils used formakingpotions.Threeof the

four walls were filled withbooks, herbs, and otheringredients. There was nodenyingamagickind lived inhere.

I snooped around, pullingsome of the books off theshelvestocheckthetitlesandcontents.Most of themwereprinted in languages I didn’teven recognize, let alonepossesstheabilitytoread.No

two volumes appeared to bewritten in the same languageeither. How any one personcould be knowledgeableenough to read all thesebookswasbeyondme.

A few minutes later Idecided the room haddivulgedallthesecretsitwasgoingtoandmovedontothenext. It turned out to be thebathroom,fullofthekindsof

thingsyouwouldexpectfroman old bachelor—aftershave,deodorant,acoupleofrazors.The next room was anotherbedroom, currently stockedfull of unopened movingboxes.Icheckedthelabelsonacoupleandsawthey’dbeenshipped here from Scotland.It made sense, given Mr.Corvus’slastteachingjob.

The final room down the

hallwaywasanotherbedroom—this one occupied by anactual bed, a dresser, and anightstand.Aswiththelivingroom, it appeared to be aperfectlynormal roomforanordinary. There wasn’t asinglemagicalitemanywherethatIcouldsee.

Frowning, I pulled thedoorshut.Therehadtobeanoffice of some kind around

here, a place where he satdowntogradepapersovertheweekend or to perform otherscholarlyduties.

I headed down the hall tothe kitchen where I couldhear Paul banging around. Istepped in to see himswingingacabinetdoorshut.

“Didyoufindanything?”Isaid.

He gave a slight jump of

surprise then shookhis head.“Nothing.”

I grimaced. “Did you gothrough the knife drawer?” Idoubted Mr. Corvus wouldkeepthebone-bladedknifeina kitchen drawer but youneverknew.

“Yeah, but there are juststeakknivesinthere.Didyoufindanything?”

I shookmyhead then ran

my fingers over my hair,beginningtofret.“Isthisit?”I glanced around the room,lookingforanotherhallway.

“I think so,” Paul said.Then he pointed at a door inthe far corner. “Unless thatisn’t a pantry.” He walkedover to it and turned thehandle, only to find it waslocked.

“Bingo,” I said. I pulled

themoonwort key out ofmypocket,pushedhimaside,andtriedthelock.Butaswiththefront door, the moonwortonly bended inmy hand, thelockholdingagainstthekey’smagic.

“Try the lockpick,” Paulsaid.

I fetched the tensionwrench and rake out of myother pocket and slid them

into place. Then I stepped totheleftandmotionedforPaulto take over. He did so,jimmyingthelockinamatterofseconds.

“You’re going to have toshowme how you do it likethat,”Isaid.“NotevenEli isthatquick.”

Paul shrugged. “It’s niceto know I’m better than himatsomething.”

I didn’t reply but pulledthedooropenall theway.Acool draft of air seeped overmyface,andIspottedasetofstairs leading down to thebasement. There was a lightswitch just inside thedoorway, and I flipped it on.Thebright,unfilteredglowofabarebulbshoneupatus.This is it, I thought, and

strangelymyheartseemedto

slow instead of quicken. Itbecameahard, steady thumpinmy chest. I pulled outmycell phone and checked thetime.We’dbeenhere fornotquite a half hour. I returnedthephonetomypocket.Thentakingadeepbreath, I raisedmyrighthandinfrontofme,magicattheready.InmylefthandIfeltBellanaxpulsatingwith anticipation. It was

ready to help the moment Ineededit.

Paulfollowedafterme,hishandatthereadyaswell.

I wasn’t sure what toexpect when I reached thebottom,butwhenIgot there,I knew itwas anything at allbesideswhatwaswaiting forus.

The basement, a cool,quiet room with concrete

walls, was mostly emptyexcept for a single chair setbeneaththebulb.

Mr.Corvuswassittingonit, his one eye fixed on usboth.“Hello,Dusty,”hesaid.“Sogladyoufinallymadeit.”Then he raised his hand anduttered a spell. A jet ofyellowlightshotoutfromhisfingertips and struck Paul inthe chest. He fell with a

muffledcryofsurprise.Thenfrom up above I heard theloud bang of the doorshutting.

I was trapped and facingMr.Corvusallalone.

25

Traps

Except, I wasn’t alone. I

reachedforthesilverbandonmywrist. Bellanax was withme.But allmy sessionswithDeverell had taught me thatmy connection to the swordwas stronger with itunglamoured. Thinking onlyabout the danger and not theconsequences, I freed it fromthedisguise.

“Don’t you dare tryanything,”Isaid,pointingthe

swordathim.“Itwon’tworkwhileI’mholdingthis.”

Mr. Corvus’s narrowed-eyed gaze told me just howimpressed he was by thisassertion. “I’m quite familiarwith The Will sword, younglady.”Then as if to prove it,he gave a flick of his hand,and Bellanax was wrenchedoutofmygrip.Itwentsailingacross the room toward him.

He caught the sword one-handed.

Terror came over me,squeezing me so hard Icouldn’t even scream. Icouldn’tdoanythingbutstareat thisman,mybody in totalparalysis.

“But for the record,” Mr.Corvus said, “I won’t betryinganything.”He loweredthe sword and then applied

the glamour, transforming itback into a silver band. Hetosseditatme.

Ibarelycaughtit,clappingmyhandsarounditatthelastsecond. Disbelief pulsed inmy temples. Was he toyingwith me? Or did he reallymean it? I glanced down atBellanax, probing the swordwith my mind, worried thathe’d messed with it

somehow.But the sword feltperfectlynormal.

“Youcanput itbackon,”Corvus said, a touch ofimpatience in his voice.“There’s nothingwrongwithit.Noharmcancome to thatswordfromanyonebutyou.”

I frowned, but slid thebracelet back onto my wrist.“Whatdoyoumeanbutme?”

“It is a sword of power,

imbuedwithsoulmagicfromits first victim,” saidCorvus.“It is indestructible exceptfrom within. As its master,you control all the powerinsideit.”

I started to ask him whathe meant exactly, but he cutmeoff.

“Don’t get me wrong, ofcourse. I’m well within myrights to punish youboth for

trespassingintomyhomelikethis.”

Overcoming some of myshock, I said, “What did youdotoPaul?”

Corvusglancedat theboyslumped on the floor besideme. “Nothing he won’trecover from shortly. Nooffensetohim,butyouandIarewellpastdueforaprivatechat.” His gaze flicked back

to me. “But I promise thatyour boyfriend will be fineand you two will leave herewithoutsomuchasahairoutofplace.”

“He’snotmyboyfriend,”Isaid, hands clenching intofists.“Myboyfriendhasbeenabducted.”

“Oh,yes,ofcourse.ButasI’m sure you’ve figured outby now, it wasn’t by me.”

Corvus motioned around theroom. “You’ve been allthrough my house andhaven’t found anythingamiss,correct?”

I frowned. “Like thatmeansanything.Howdidyouknowwewerecoming?”

Mr.Corvusmadeasoundlike a growl. “I didn’t. As amatter of fact, I was justgettingready tomakemyself

a cup of tea and read for afew hours when I heard youatthedoor.”

“Youweresupposedtobeat yoga.” Too late I realizedthis probably wasn’tinformation I should’vedivulged.

Corvusdidn’tmissabeat.“Decided to skip it, afterspending half the nightlooking for your other

boyfriend.”“Whatdoyoumeanother

—”Ipaused,scowling.“Likelooking for Eli matters ifyou’re the one who tookhim.”

Corvus shook his head.“So suspicious. And so verymuchlikeyourmother.”

Resisting the urge to pullout Bellanax once more, Isaid, “What do you know

aboutmymother?”“A good deal more than

you.” Mr. Corvus waved hishand again, and from thefarthest,darkestcorneroftheroom, another wooden chairfloated over to me. “Whydon’t you have a seat andwe’lltalkthingsthrough.”

I considered my optionsfor a couple of seconds. Butintheend,thereweren’tany.

Not unless I went for apreemptive strike.Considering how easily he’ddisarmed me already thatseemedabad idea.Finally, Iexhaled and sat down. But Ididn’t make myselfcomfortable.Iperchedontheedgeoftheseat,readytoleapinto action if this crazy one-eyed man decided to tryanythingfunny.

“Thank you.” Corvustented his hands in front ofhim. “Now, before I go intodetails, let me start byreassuring you that I hadnothingatalltodowithyourmother’s disappearance orEli’s or even the Death’sHeart.”

I flinched at hisknowledge. “How do youknow about the Death’s

Heart?” It was weird beingable to say it aloud tosomeonenew.

“LadyElainehaskeptmeinformed. And yes, she toldmeyoursuspicionsaboutmeaswell.”

Ifoldedmyarmsovermychest, a feeling of betrayalcomingoverme.Whydidshehave to tell him? If he hadturned out to be the bad guy

—andIhadn’tyetdecidedhewasn’t—then she tipped himoff to be ready for me. “Soyou really are working forher?”

“With herwould bemoreaccurate. And with yourmother.” Corvus inclined hishead.“I’mhere tohelpLadyElaine root out Marrow’ssupporters, and also, mostimportantly, to discover the

manwhofreedMarrowfromhistomb.”

Iinhaledsharply.Corvusranahandoverhis

goatee. “Yes, that’s right.YourmotherandIhavebeenafter the same thing for awhilenow.Wecrossedpathssome eight months ago andhave since combined ourefforts.”

Iexaminedhisexpression,

trying to decide if I couldbelieve him, but he wasimpossible to read,immutableasstone.“Ifthat’strue, why didn’t she tell meaboutyou?”

“She swore to keepme asecret, same as Lady Elaine.The fewer people who knowthetruththebetter.Howelseam I supposed to uncoversuch aman as the onewe’re

hunting?”Corvuspointedhisfinger. “He’s always a stepahead.”

“Okay,” I said, seeing hispoint. “But what does thathavetodowithme?”

“Because we are huntingthe same man, DestinyEverhart.”

I went very still, eventhough my heart was nowgalloping inside my chest.

“AreyousayingthemanwhofreedMarrowisthesameonewhostoletheDeath’sHeart?”

“Yes. And I believe hekidnapped Bethany Grey,yourmother,andEliaswell.”

I slumped against thechair, overwhelmed by thisnews.Itwasonethingformetohavesuspectedit,butquiteanother to have it confirmed.How were we ever going to

capture such a person? “Doyou knowwho it is?” I said,soundingmorehopefulthanIintended.

Corvus grimaced. “No.But take heart. We areclosing inonhim, I’veneverbeenmorecertain.”

“How?”Despairmademyvoicebreathy.

“First, you mustunderstandhowhard thishas

been,” said Corvus. “It’stakenmeavery long time tolearn it, but the person whofreedMarrowfromhisprisonisashape-changer.”

For a second the wordstruck my brain withoutregistering any meaning.WhenitdidIwasgladIwassitting down. “Selene wasright.”

“Excuse me?” Corvus

raisedhissingleeyebrow.I shook my head. “I

thought shape-changers wereextinct.”

Corvus sighed and leanedback in the chair. “That’s animpossibility, given theirnature.”

I stared at him, trying todecideifhewasdisappointedor relieved to know that anentire group of magickind

was incapable of beingannihilated. Given that hewas a Nightmare, I chose togowiththelatter.

“Withtheirabilitytostealshapes,” Corvus continued,“theman could be anyone atArkwell.Nomatterhowlongthat person has been here.The shape-changer could beDr. Hendershaw and no onewouldeverhaveknownit.”

“But … but how?” Mymind began to reel. “There’smore to being a person thanwhattheylooklike.Wouldn’tsomebodyhavecaughthiminagoofbynow?”

Corvusshookhishead.“Italldependsonhowtheshape-changerstoletheshapeinthefirstplace.”

“Don’ttheyjustneedtheirteeth?”

Corvus looked surprisedby my knowledge, but heonly nodded. “Teeth is oneway for a shape-changer toshift.Butasingletouchisallthey need to borrow yourshape for a limited period oftime.Inbothcases,theyonlysteal the body as you said.But if a shape-changerwantstocompletelyassumeanotherperson’s life, they can do so

byfirstkillingthepersonandthenconsumingtheirheart.”

I inhaled and feltmy gagreflexkickin.“Doyoumeaneating them? Likecannibals?”

“Yes, it’s both a physicaland magical act for them,”Corvus said, seeminglyoblivious to thewaymyfacewas turninggreen. “It allowsthem to assume the victim’s

shape permanently, and itgives the shape-changeraccess to every memory,mannerism, and emotion thatthe person possessed. Theycanquiteliterallybecomethatperson.”

I ran my hand over mymouth,willingmystomachtosettle.The idea that someoneat Arkwell, one of myteachers perhaps, or maybe

even someone like Mr.Culpepper was actually ashape-changer in disguise,one dining on hearts likesome magickind version ofHannibal Lecter, made myskincrawl.

Withaneffort, Imanagedtokeepmycool longenoughto ask, “Aren’t there anydistinguishing signs of ashape-changer?Like theway

oureyesglowinthedark?”“There is a sign, but it’s

very hard to detect.” Corvusshifted his weight in thechair, crossing one leg overthe other. “They have astrange ridge on the roof oftheirmouth.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well that’shelpful.”

“Indeed. Short ofphysically assaulting every

faculty and staff member atArkwell long enough for metoprobetheirmouths,Ineverstood a chance of simplyrecognizing the shape-changer.AnytimeIgetclose,all he has to do is stealanotherform.”

Frustration began to buildinsideme.Iwasn’tsurewhenI’d decided to believe hisstory, but I definitely did

now. Too much of it madesense, and I’d been alonewith him for quite a while;he’dhadampletimetodomeharm.

“This is impossible,” Isaid.“You’vebeensearchingfor this guy for months withnoluck.HowamIevergoingto findhim in time to rescuemymotherandEli?”

To my surprise Corvus’s

face brightened. “It just sohappens that these recentdevelopments might havegiven us a way to succeed.Andit’swhyI’msogladyousoughtmeouttoday.”

I leaned forward, stillskepticalbutwilling tohope.“Howdoyoumean?”

“I don’t know why theshape-changer has stolen theDeath’s Heart,” Corvus said.

“Marrow does not need it tocome to life. At least he hasnever needed such a thingbefore.”

“Wait.” I raisedmyhand.“HowdoyouknowsomuchaboutMarrow?”

“I’msurprisedyouhaven’tguessed already.” Corvustapped a finger against hisbreastbone “Once you foundout about my Borromean

brand,thatis.”I stared at him, my mind

trying to solve the puzzle.“Those men with thebrands … they were therewhenNimue…”

“Trapped Marrow in thedream,yes,”CorvussaidasIfaltered. “There were twelveof them. There are alwaystwelveofus—theBorromeanBrotherhood, as we call

ourselves. Four darkkind,four naturekind, fourwitchkind.”

“We?” I blinked. “So thatmeansthatyou—”

“HavededicatedmylifetokeepingMarrowsealedinhistomb.”

I took a moment toprocess this information, butthere were too manyquestions.Toomuch I didn’t

understand. I cleared mythroat. “There are twelve ofyou?”

Color darkened Corvus’scheeks. “There were twelveofus.”

“Were?”Corvus rubbed a thumb

over his ring finger, and hisvoice darkened as he said,“Onlythebloodofthetwelvecanundothecircle.”

I flinched at the familiarquote.

“The shape-changer killedthem,”Corvussaidamomentlater.Hedrewabreath,andIsensedhisstruggle tocontrolhis emotions. His angerseemed to comeoff him likewavesofheatoffabonfire—anger and hatred. “Hemurdered us one by one.Allbutme.”Corvusmotioned to

his missing eye. “I am theonly one who survived theattack.”

I swallowed a mixture ofpityand revulsion. I couldn’timaginewhatitmust’vebeenlike for him to go throughthat.But itmademeinclinedto trust him.Thiswasn’t justabout justice for him. It wasabout vengeance, too, andthat was a powerful

motivation.Icouldonlyhopeit would be enough to savemymomandEli.

I took a deep breath andletitoutslowly.“Soyousaidyou had a way to get theshape-changer now. What isit?”

“You,” Corvus said atonce.

“Me?” A chill slid overmyskin.

Corvus nodded, hisexpression growing evenmore intense than before. Itseemed to glow with anewfound fervor. “Of thepeople the shape-changerhasabducted recently, the onlythingtheyhaveincommonisyou.”Eli and my mother, I

thought, knowing he wasright.“WhataboutBethany?”

Corvus waved thequestion off. “I’m not surewhyhetookher,althoughhehadhisreasons,nodoubt.Butthey don’tmatter now.Whatdoes, is that he seems to betargeting the people close toyou.”

“But why?” I wrung myhands,therealityofthistruthhittingme like a blow to thegut. For a moment I wanted

to curl into a ball, the fetalpositiontheonlywaytocopewith the guilt.Mymom andEli were both suffering rightnow—because of me.Assuming they weren’t deadyet.

“Again, I don’t knowwhy,” Corvus said, and Icould hear the regret in hisvoice. It made me feel likecrying.

“Butwhat Idoknow,”hecontinued,“isthatyouarethekey to finding him. I’vesuspected as much since themoment I foundout thatyouhad bonded with The Willsword. Your mother hasworried about you beingdragged into this from thebeginning, which is why sheinsisted so stridently that wekeep you in the dark about

theshape-changerforaslongas possible. Sheworried thatyou might try and go afterhimyourself.”

“Yeah well, she wasright.” I folded my armsacrossmychestandbegantotap my foot against theconcrete floor. “Butknowinghe’stargetingme,whatcanIdotohelpfindhim?”

“Thehardestthingofall,”

Corvussaid.“Bepatient.”“Huh?”He bobbed his head, his

single eye overly bright. “Ineedyou towait and lethimcome foryou.He’sgoing to,Iknowit.Andwhenhedoes,I’mgoingtobetheretocatchhim.”

I blinked, my mouthsliding open again. “Youwanttousemeasbait?”

“In lieu of a less vulgarexpression, yes.” Corvusbared his teeth in an almostferal smile. “It will take asignificantamountofbraveryon your part. But if you’reanything like your mother, Iknowyoucandoit.”

Tearsstungmyeyesashesaid it. I knew he might bemanipulatingmyemotionsonpurpose, but it worked

nevertheless.“I’lldoit.Butifhe comes for me, how am Isupposedtoletyouknow?”

“It’s simple, actually.”Corvus stoodupand reachedinto his pocket, withdrawinga small object I’dnever seenbefore. “And it’s somethinghewillneverseecoming.”

***

Halfanhourlater,PaulandI

left Mr. Corvus’s house.Corvushadtakenoffthespellthat had incapacitated Paulonly a few minutes before.He’d been livid at first,demanding an explanation ofwhat happened. But Icouldn’ttellhim.Corvuswasright about that. Nobodycouldknowtheplanwe’djustset in motion. In the end, Ihadtoappeal toPaul’sbetter

nature.I took his hand and

squeezed his fingers,pleading. “You’re going tohave to trust me, Paul. Allright?Justtrustme.”

He watched my face forseveralseconds,notspeaking,thenheslowlynodded.

After that we’d climbedthestepsoutofthecellarandheadedforthefrontdoor.Mr.

Corvus watched us go, notspeaking a word to eitherPaul or me.We got into thecar and started to make ourwaybacktoArkwell.

When we were less thanfive minutes from campus,Paulpulledintoanalley.

“What are you doing?” Isaidasthecarcametoastop.

“Time toputonour facesagain,”hesaid,retrievinghis

shape-changenecklace.“Right.”Ireachedintomy

pocketandpulledoutmineaswell. I stared at the necklacewith its smooth, yellowedteeth,anuneasyfeelinginmystomach. After what I’dlearned from Mr. Corvusaboutshape-changermagic, Icouldn’t believe that themagickind police forcesanctioned the use of these

necklaces. Then again, Isupposed maybe it didn’tsurprise me that much, evennow.TheMagiSenatewasn’tabove using black magic tomeetitsownends.Still,oncewegotbacktocampusIwasgoing to follow throughwithmyvowtodestroyit.

“Youcoming?”Paul said,startling me out of myreverie. I looked up to see

that he’d already slid on hisnecklace and changed backintotheMenagerieworker.

“Yeah,justasec.”Iputonthenecklaceandimmediatelyfelt the shift into the otherwoman. “Okay,” I said.“Let’sgo.”

Paul pulled the car out ofthe alley and back onto themain drag. I felt my phonebuzz in my back pocket and

pulleditout.“Who’s it from?” Paul

said,glancingover.“Selene, she—” I broke

off as I read the message.Once. Twice. Three times.Fearclosedinaroundmelikecollapsingwalls.Lance is awake, Selene

had written. He saw hisattacker.ItwasPaul.

26

TheShape-Changer

Don’t panic, Dusty. Don’t

panic.Playitcool.“She what?” Paul said,

and I jumpedat the soundofhisstranger’svoice.

“Oh, she, um, Lance isstill unconscious but doingbetter.”

“That’sgood.”I nodded, not trusting

myself to sayanythingmore,not if this really was thepersonwho’dattackedLance

and kidnapped Eli sittingbeside me. Maybe Lancemadeamistake.Hehadtakena blow to the head. But if itwas true—the thought wasalmost too frightening to beallowed. My stomachchurned at the idea of Paulbeing involved in all thisMarrowbusiness again.Howcould he? How was hecapable of such deception

evennow?Unless this isn’t Paul in

frontofyou.The thought flipped my

panicbuttonsohardthatforamoment, I almost attackedhim. Around my wrist,Bellanax burned, the swordsensing the danger. I heldback at the last second. Ineeded to be careful, neededtobesmart.Butitwashardto

think with the blood rushinginmyears.

“Youallright?”Paulsaid,glancingoveratmeagain.

“Yeah sure. Of course.Why wouldn’t I be?” Iavoided his gaze. Myknuckles were white aroundmy cell phone, and I forcedmyhandtorelax.

“Yousure?Becausewe’realmostatthemaingates.”

“Oh.” I peered out thefront window and saw thegate just ahead.Play it cool,Dusty. For a second, Icontemplated asking theguard for help, only todismiss the idea. If PaulwasbehindtheattackonLance—ifhewasbehindeverything—thenIneededtokeepitsecretlong enough to find Eli andmymom. If I tipped himoff

now, he might run, and Iwouldneverfindthem.

Summoning as muchcourage as I could muster, Iforcedmybodytorelaxtoitspre-terror state. It was hard,but I managed it. Bellanaxhelped, its power coiled andwaiting, ready to strike themomentIcalledforit.

Thinking clearly oncemore, I sent Selene a quick

reply:

I’mwithhimnow.GetCorvustohelp.We’reheadingtocampus.

IglancedoveratPaulasIpressedsend,prayingIhadn’troused his suspicion, but hisgaze remained fixed out thefrontwindow.

When we arrived atArkwell,thesameguardfromearlier came out of thegatehouse.PaulpulledthecartoastopandhandedoverourIDsoncemore.

Tomy surprise, theguarddidn’t scan them at once buttook his time looking themover.

“Somethingwrong?” Paulsaidafterafewseconds.

The guard looked up.“We’ve had a security alert.We’re on the lookout for aguy named Alan Early. Sixfeettall,darkblondhair.Hasabeard.Doyouknowhim?”

I feltmore than saw Paulstiffen. “Alan?” he said.“Sure I know him.Weworktogether in the Menagerie.What’s he supposed to havedone?”

“Don’t know, but thepolice are on their way herenow to look for him. We’reputting the campus underlockdown.You got back justintime.”

My heart stuttered at thisnews.I’dneverheardofAlanEarly, but it didn’t take agenius to guess that was thenamePaulwasusingwhenheworehiscreepybearded-man

face.“Oh, glad we got lucky

then,”Paulsaid.The guard nodded and

handed over the IDs. “Say,youhaven’tseenEarlytoday,haveyou?”

“No, but if I do, I’ll callthe authorities right away.”Paul’s manner as he spokewas a convincing display ofinnocenceandconcern.Even

Ihalfwaybelievedhim.“Very good,” the guard

said.Realizingthejigwasup,I

leaned toward the driver’ssidewindow, ready to soundthe alarm. Paul knew he’dbeen found out—he wouldrun as soon as he could.Butbefore I could say anything,he touched my wrist, and Ifelt a sharp prick like an

insect bite. Pain lancedthroughmybody,andIfroze,unabletomoveorspeak.

“Thanks so much,” Paulsaid to the guard, and thenwithout releasing my wrist,he drove us through the gateandontocampus.Whatdidyoudo tome? I

tried to shout, butmymouthwasn’t working. I hadbecomeaprisonerinafrozen

body, completely at themercyof theboysittingnexttome.If he is a boy. I never

knewPaultohavemagiclikethis.Myhandfeltasifithadbeen bitten by a snake, andthere was something likevenom pulsing through myveins,enforcingtheparalysis.

But if thiswasn’t Paul, ifit was the shape-changer

wearing his skin, thenwherewastherealPaul?Consume their heart, I

heard Corvus saying oncemore. But no, Paul couldn’tbe dead. Unexpected tearsstungmyeyesatthethought.Iwanted towipe themaway,but I still couldn’t move. Icouldn’tevenblink.

The stranger next to mepulled the car into the same

parking spot as before. Iwaited while he killed theengine, incapable of doinganythingelse.

“Sorryaboutthesting,”hesaid, flashing me a chillysmile. “But I had to actquickly once I realized whatwasgoingon.”

Again, I waited withenforced outward patience,unable to give voice to the

cursewordsscreechinginmymind,beggingtobeshouted.

He finally removed hishand from my wrist, but hedidn’t let go—not until afterhe’dpulledBellanaxfrommyarmandputitinhispocket.

“And now, it seems wehave reached a moment ofinevitable conflict, you andI,” he said, and the suddenstrangeness of his speech

confirmed for me what Ialready knew—this wasn’tPaul. “I am prepared tocounteractthevenom’seffectif you agree to come alongquietly.”

Inside my head, I waslaughing.DefinitelynotPaul.He would’ve known betterthantosuggestsuchathing.

“And I am quite certain,”he continued, “that your

answer is going to be yes,despite what you might bethinking inside that prettylittle head of yours.” Hereached over and ran a handover my hair and down thesideofmycheek.

Thelaughterstopped,ragetaking its place. I wanted tohit this guy. I wanted toscream and pound my fistsintohisface.

“Your options are quitesimple,DustyEverhart.Icaneitherkillyourighthere,orIcan undo the paralysis andgive you a chance to saveyour mother and yourpreciousEli.”

Silence filled my headnow, the quiet calm of sheerterror.Thismanwasakiller.He’ddoneitahundredtimes.And he eats his victims’

hearts.“You have something I

want,” the not-Paul said.“And it’s important enoughthat I’m willing to bargain.Letmeknowyourdecisioninfive-four-three-two-one.Anti-amnes.”

The spell swept over me,and I felt the paralysis giveway, as if I’d been cut freefromaspider’sweb.Iopened

mymouth,my eyes blinkingrapidlytorestorethemoisturefromsomanyminutesofnotblinking.

The shape-changerclimbed out of the car andhurriedaroundtomyside.Heopened the door for me andwaited. I got out slowly andfaced him, planning myattack.

“Hypno-soma!” I

screamed, casting the spellwithdizzyingspeed,allthosepractice sessionswith Selenepayingoff.

Buttheshape-changerwaseven faster. “Alexo,” he said,seeming to swipe my dazingcurse aside with his shieldspell.Thenhecounteredwitha spell I didn’t recognize. Itried to block it and missed.The magic struck me, then

nothing, not so much as atingleofpain.

Shakingitoff,Iraisedmyhand for another attack, butwhen I spoke the incantationmymagicdidn’tcome.Itwasgone.Erased.Cutout.“Whatdid you—” Invisible fingersclosed around my throat asthe shape-changer raised hishandtowardme.

“Don’t be hasty here,” he

said.“ImeanwhatIsay.Youcansavethemboth.YoujusthavetogivemewhatIwant.”

“And … what … is …that?”Isaidbetweengaspingbreaths. I had my fingers atmy throat, trying to freemyselffromhismagicalgrip,buttherewasnothingtograbonto. I’d nevermet someonewith such powerful mind-magic, and without my own

magic, Iwashelplessagainsthim.

“Youwill findout.And Ipromise it does not have toinvolveyourdeath.”

“That’s… re… assur…ing.”

The shape-changergrinnedandloweredhishand.The pressure on my neckvanished, and I sucked inchokingbreaths.

“This way, when you’reready.” The shape-changerheld out his hand, indicatingthedirection.

I reached for my magicagain,butoncemorenothingcame. “What did you do tome?” Tears burnedmy eyes,and a sob expanded in mychest. I knew it couldn’t bepermanent that it was just aspell, some kind of block. I

could even sense my magicstill waiting inside me, butbeing separated from it wasterrifying. It was like thosedreamswhere you needed torun but couldn’t—you knewhow to run, knew you werecapable of it, but your bodyrefusedtoobey.

“Convenient little spell,wouldn’tyousay?Oneofmyspecialties. It works so well,

even on Nightmares.” Theshape-changer put his handsonhiships.“Nowlet’sgo.”

Still I didn’t move. Ineeded to get at the deviceCorvushadgivenme, tuckedinmyleftfrontpocket,somekindoftrackingbeacon.AllIhad to do was press thebutton and it would send analert to his phone alongwithmy GPS coordinates. The

electronic device was newenough that animationwouldn’t be an issue. If Icouldonlyactivateitwithouttheshape-changerseeing.

First though, I needed toditch this stranger’s body. Ineeded the familiarity of myown skin if I stood anychange of activating thedevice and surviving this. Ireachedupandpulledoffthe

necklace, half-expecting theshape-changertostopme,buthesaidnothing.

Savoring the relief of myownshape,Isteppedinfrontof my captor. He did notremove his necklace or thepurloined Menagerieworker’s face. He couldn’twith all his other coversblown—both Alan Early andPaul Kirkwood were wanted

men.“Where are we going?” I

asked, moving in thedirectionhehadindicated.

“TheMenagerie.”Nodding, I started to put

my hands into my pockets,nonchalant. An invisibleforcesnakedaroundmywristandsqueezed,restrainingme.

“KeepyourhandswhereIcanseethem,please.”

“Oh,sure,sinceyouaskedso nicely,” I said, scowlingback at him. I faced frontagain, adjusting my coursetoward the Menagerie.Fighting back dizziness Itried to formulate a plan,somewayoutof this.ThenIrealizedthatImightnotneedto. I’d thought this shape-changer was supposed to beclever, but heading for the

Menagerie was the epitomeof stupid, given what theguardhadjusttoldus.

Then again, I should’veknown better than to hope itwouldbesoeasy.

Justbeforeweroundedthecorner toward theMenagerie’s main gates, theshape-changer said frombehindme, “Now,be sure toplayyourpartwell,mydear.”

“What?” As I started toturn around he grabbed myarm.Magic crawledovermyskin,followedbythefamiliarsqueeze and stretchingsensation of trading my faceandbodyforsomeoneelse’s.

When the shape-changeended, I looked down andsaw fingers lined with ageand thick blue veins—thehands of an old woman

insteadofmyown.Somehowhe’d shifted my shapewithout the necklace. “Howare you doing this?” I said,and I gasped at the familiarvoice of Lady Elaine issuingfrommymouth.

“Just one of my manytalents,” the shape-changeranswered,onlyhisvoicewasdifferent now, too. I didn’thave to look back to know

whoitwas,butIdidanyway.Instead of the Menagerieworker, the shape-changernowwore the face and bodyofDetectiveValentine.

“Are you reallyValentineoristhatshapestolen?”

“Borrowed, my dear,borrowed.Andno, this is thefirsttimeI’vewornhim.”

The brilliance of hispower filled me with both

awe and terror, and Iunderstood more than everbefore why these creatureshad been so hunted. If theywere all like thisone,maybethat persecution was evendeserved. The thoughtsickened me, and I hatedmyselfforthinkingit.This is only one shape-

changer, I remembered.Condemning them all based

onhisbehaviorwouldbelikecondemning all witchkindbasedonthethingsthatTitusKirkwood had done. Still, Icouldn’tdenymyrevulsionatsuchunrestrainedpower.

When we arrived at thegates into theMenagerie, theshape-changer pulled aD.I.M.S. badge out of hispocket and ordered theworkers and Will Guards

assembled there to let usinside.

Theydidn’tevenconsiderrefusing. Why would they?The shape-changer wasconvincing.Formypart,he’dorderedmetobesilent.Iwasokay with obeying. It gavemeachance to slipmyhandinto my pocket and activatethe beacon.At least, I hopeditwas active. I’d pressed the

button once and then yankedmyhandout,convincedforasecondthattheshape-changerhadnoticed.

But he was busy givingfalse instructions to theMenagerie workers. “Wehaveanideaofwheretolookfor Alan Early. You all stayputandwaitfortherestofthepolice force. SheriffBrackenberry will be here

shortly.”Again,noonequestioned,

no one doubted. I wanted toscream the truth at them, butthat desire warred with myneedtogettomymotherandEli. I didn’t trust the shape-changer for an instant, nomatterwhathesaidaboutnotkilling me. But I believedcompletely that he had mylovedoneshiddensomewhere

inthisplace.Hewasmyonlywayoffindingthem.

The shape-changerdirected me further into theMenagerie and around acorner, heading out of sightoftheguards.Hetouchedmyarm briefly, and I felt mybody return to its true shapewitharelief.Thenwedoublebacked to the long lowbuilding that Paul had taken

me to once before. Fear roseup inme at the sight of it—and doubt. The abandoneddragoncavesbelowwouldbetheperfect hidingplace.Hadthat been the real Paul whotook me there that day? Orhaditbeentheshape-changerall along? I couldn’t decide.Before, when I’d been here,PaulhadseemedsomuchlikePaul.Buthowcouldhehave

been coming here and nothaveknownabout theshape-changer? Was it justcoincidence?

My insides clenched—Ididn’tbelieveincoincidence.

We entered the buildingand the shape-changer closedand locked the door behindus. I headed for the tunnelwithout being asked, but hecalledformetostop.Iswung

to face him. He was stillwearing the Valentinedisguise.

“Turn out your pockets,please,”hesaid.

I felt my heart pulsing inmythroat.“What?”

“You heard me.” Theshape-changer folded hisarmsacrosshischest.

Glowering to hide myfear, I shovedmy hands into

mypocketsandwithdrewmycellphonefromtherightoneand the tension wrench andrakefromtheleft.

The shape-changer took astep closer to me andexamined the objects. Hepickedupthetensionwrenchand rake and slid them intohis own pocket. Then hepickedupmyphone.BeforeIcould protest he smashed it

againstthefloorandstompedonitforgoodmeasure.

“You didn’t have to dothat,” I said, wincing. “Youcould’vejustturneditoff.”

“Destructionisalwaysthesafestoption.”

I started to argue, but hegrabbed my arm andwrencheditbehindmyback.

“What are you doing?” Itried topull free,butheonly

increased the pressure. I hadnochoicebuttobendforwardat the waist. With me nowimmobilized, the shape-changerslidhisfreehandintomy left pocket. I wanted tosquirm, the feel of his handthere sickeningly intimate,butbeforeIcouldreact,heletgoofme.

I spun toward him to seethebeaconinhishand.

“Oh, poor, poor Corvus.”Alookofmockpityappearedon the shape-changer’sborrowed face, but I saw thedelightofvictorytwinklinginhis eyes. “Cine-aphan,” hesaid. Therewas a loud crackasthebeaconvanished.

I trembled, my kneesthreatening to buckle. Mybest chance of help had justbeenobliterated.

“Go on.” The shape-changermotionedme towardthe sloping floor ahead. “Ibelieveyouknowtheway.”

Swallowing, I headeddown the tunnel. In seconds,the darkness grew too thickfor me to see the ground infrontofme,andIstoppedandfaced him. “You got aflashlight or something?”Once again I felt the painful

absenceofmymagic.The shape-changer raised

his hand and a ball of lightappeared over his head. Ithung there foramomentandthen flew forward like agiant,roundfirefly.

I followed after it. Wereached the spiral stairs andheaded down, eventuallyarriving at the dragon cavewhereI’dcomewithPauljust

afewdaysbefore.I slowed down, but the

shape-changer pushed meforward. “Head for the nexttunnel.”

Inwardly cursing, I mademywaytowardit.Whetherithad been Paul here with methe last time or not, I soonfoundout itwasno lieaboutthe tunnelbeingdangerous. Ihadtoholdonehandpressed

against thewall tokeepfromsliding with every step. Butno matter where I put myhand,therockwallcrumbled,adding more scree to thealreadytreacherousfloor.

I walked on,uncomplaining. Deeper anddeeper we went. Soon themaintunnelbranchedoffintoseveral smaller tunnels. Theshape-changer pointed to the

one on the left. I headeddownitonlytobeconfrontedwith more branching tunnelsnotfarahead.Onceagain,theshape-changer indicated theway. Over and over wereached branching tunnelsuntil Iwas sohopelessly lostI doubted I would ever findmywayback.

“Do you want to tell mewherewe’reheaded?” I said,

givingintomynerves.“I don’t think so,” came

his quick reply. “You’ll seesoonenough.”

I rolled my eyes, thegesturewastedwithmybacktohim.

A few seconds later, Itried again. “Sowho are youforreal?”

Silence answered thequestion, and I glanced over

my shoulder, nearly losingmy balance in the process.The shape-changer was stillwearingValentine’sform.

“That’s an interestingquestion,”he said,motioningforme to continue down theslope.“Ihavesomanyshapesthatbelong tome.And tobehonest, my first shape is sooldIbarelyrememberwhatitfeels like to wear it any

longer.Not thatIwouldeverwantto.”

I gave a sharp intake ofbreath. “What do you meanold?”

“Oh, I take it Corvus didnot fill you in on everythingabout shape-changers, didhe?”

I shrugged. “How am Isupposed to know if I don’talreadyknow?”

“Good point.” The shape-changer sniffed. “But surelyhetoldyouhowweclaimthebodyandmindofothers.”

“Ifyoumeanthebitabouteatinghearts,thenyes.”

The shape-changer tsked.“It’s not as disgusting orunfathomable as youmake itsound. The true shift, as it’scalled, prolongs our life. It’sthe ability that got my

kindred in trouble all thoseyears ago. I mean, whatwould you do if you weresickanddyingofoldageandhad the ability to takesomeone’s life so you couldcontinueliving?”

I suppressed a shiver ofhorror. “You really want metoanswerthat?”

“No,” he said. “Whatvalue would your opinion

have? You can’t judge ifyou’ve never been in thesituation, now can you?Youareyoungandhealthy,fullofhopesanddreamsabout longlife.Youhavenoideawhatitwill be like for you in theend. But I have been there,and suffice it to say it’s adecision I have neverregretted.”

“Really?” I said shooting

himalookovermyshoulder.“I’m so surprised that youdon’t regret murderingpeople.”We’dbeen travelingever downward, but thesteepnessoftheslopeseemedtobe lessening.The smell ofwater had been growingsteadily stronger. “But whatyou’re really saying,” Icontinued whenmy sarcasticcomment failed to get a

response, “is that you’vestolensomanylivesthatyoudon’trememberyourown?”

“Oh, I remember it,” hesaid. “I just don’t choose towear it anymore. It’s likecasting aside a pair of shoes.They served you well, andnow you’re ready forsomething new. But don’tfret, Dusty Everhart. I dohaveacurrent trueform,and

it’s one you’re very familiarwith.”

As he spoke, I felt icyfingers slide down my back.It was a voice I recognized.The voice of someone Itrusted enough to have lethim into my head over andoveragaininthenousdesmos.With my heart in my throatand my stomach drawing inonitself,Istoppedandslowly

turned around to face theshape-changer.

Mr. Deverell’s handsomeface grinned back atme. Forasecond,Irefusedtobelieveit. This had to be anothertrick.

ButthenIfeltthebrushofhis mind against mine, thetouchofitunmistakable.

The shape-changer, theman who’d freed Marrow

from his tomb, was Mr.Deverell. It had been him allalong.

27

WillofItsOwn

Icouldn’tstopthetears.They

came of their own will. Iturned around and wipedthem away before he couldsee. His betrayal stung deep,making each breath shakyand painful. I didn’tunderstand it—he could’vekidnapped me easily beforethis. So why had he waited?Whatdidhewantfromme?Iwasafraidtofindout.

Fortunately, our walk

continuedonforseveralmoreminutes, givingme a chanceto regain my composure. Iburiedthehurtofhisbetrayalas deeply as I could. I toldmyself there had been a realDeverellonce,themanwhosememories and mannerismshad created the teacher Icared about so much. Thatman, that first Deverell,deserved vengeance against

the creature that had stolenhislife.

Hatred began to buildsteam inside of me. It gaveme focus, driving away thefear. I needed to rescue mymomandEli,andIneededtodestroy this monster behindme.

Finally, the passagewaywe’dbeenfollowingcame toan end. Deverell’s ball of

lightflewintotheroomaheadofus,andonceitgotthere,itmultiplied. Soon dozens ofsuch lights hung over ourheads, revealing a vastcavernous space. The ceilingwassotallthatallIcouldseeof it were the tips ofstalactitespointeddownatuslike clawed, accusatoryfingers.

Ahead stood a circular

structure some four feet tallthat at first appeared to bemade of stone. I would’vecalled it a wall but thedescription didn’t fit. Itwasn’tmadeof sharpangles,but was perfectly round inshape, a cylinder lyingon itsside.Iblinked,tryingtomakesense of it. But as I drewcloser to it I realized thatwhat I had taken for stone

blockswereactuallycarvingsinthewall…ofscales.

“The Great Ouroboros,” Isaid,thewordsinvoluntaryintheforceofmyastonishment.

Deverell made a noise ofapproval from behind me.“Yes, very good. It took memonthstofindit.ButIknewitwasdownheresomewhere.All the historical documentson theIwatokesaidso. Ihad

tofindit,ofcourse.Afteryoukilledmymaster.”

I snorted, unable to helpmyself. “Your master? Whatisthis,aStarWarsmovie?”

Deverell narrowed hiscoolblueeyesonmyface.Hemight be a monster, but hewas no less handsome thanbefore, a scary kind ofhandsome. “I am proud tocall theRedWarlockmaster.

Heisworthytobeserved.”“Whoa, somebody’s been

drinking the Marrow Kool-Aidrealhard.”

To my surprise Deverellsmiled. “Soon the wholeworldwill feel as I do.” Hissmile widened, revealingperfectlywhite,straightteeth.“Andthosewhodon’twillbesilencedforever.”

I gulped, the idea of his

brainwashing no longerfunny.Notwhen it had suchreal consequences. I pulledmygaze away fromhim andsurveyed the rest of the area.My breath hitched as Ispotted a distant shoreline.Blackwaterglistenedbeneaththe balls of light overhead.Floating in the water was anancient-looking boat. Itwasn’t the sameas thebarge

in Eli’s dreams, but closeenough to set my heart toracing.

I turned back toDeverell.“Where’smymom?Where’sEli?” I kept glancing at theboat, fearing his answerwould involve a trip downthatblackriver.

To my relief Deverellturned toward the GreatOuroboros and pointed. “In

there, along with the RedWarlock.”

I turned my gaze to thedragon statue again,wondering what horrorsawaitedmeinside.

“Go on,” Deverellprodded.“I’llhelpyouclimbover.”

Dread began to beat asteady tattoo against myskull. True to its mythology,

the Great Ouroboros was asingular object, with nobeginning or end. There wasno secret door through it, nopassageway beneath it. Theonlywayinsidewastoclimbover,itseemed.

AsDeverellhadguessed,Ineeded help. It was too tallfor me to jump and the toptoohighandroundforme tohoist myself up. If only I’d

beenbornasirenlikeSelene.Thenitwould’vebeeneasy.

For a moment, afterDeverell helped me up andover it, I was alone. Itwould’ve been the perfecttime to prepare an attack—ifI’d had access to my magic,and if I hadn’t beencompletely shocked by thescene inside the large stonering.

Therewerefivelowstonealtars—one in the middlewith the others set around itlike the four points of acompass. A body lay on topof each one. On the centerstone, which sat higher thanthe others, was Marrow. Irecognized him easily—hisface the same as it had everbeen, the only difference thelonger, unkempt beard. He

was lying on his back, hiseyes closed and his armscrossed over his chest. TheDeath’s Heart had beenplaced between his hands. Itgaveoffafaintredglowthatpulsated like a real heart.Sitting on the wall directlyacross from the altarwas theblack phoenix. Its red eyeswerefixedonme,butitmadenomovetoattack.

Withterrortwistinginmygut,Ipulledmyeyesawaytolook at the other altars. Myspirits lifted as I saw Eli onthe nearest one.He appearedto be asleep, but otherwiseokay. Not at all like mymotherlyingonthenextone.She was noticeably thinnerandsicklypale.Irushedoverto her. Dark bruises rimmedhercheekbonesand theblue-

black lines of veins werevisibleinherforehead.

Iputmyhandonherbarearm and flinched at theicinessofherskin.“Mom!”Ishookher.

“Don’t waste the effort,”Deverellsaid,walkingovertome.“Shewillnotwakeupsolongasshe isunder thespelloftheDeath’sHeart.”

I glared up at him, tears

hotinmyeyes.“Takeitoff.”It was a stupid demand, butdesperation clouded myreason.

“All in good time,”Deverellsaid.“Andassumingyoudoyourpart.”

Idroppedmygazebacktomy mother. If I only knewhowtobreakthespellmyself.I tried to reach out toBellanaxwithmymind,butit

was hopeless without mymagic.SomehowIneeded tobreakfreeofDeverell’sspellandgettheswordback.

With despair pressingdown on me, I turned awayfrommymother.Myeyesfellon the next altar, the onedirectlyaboveMarrow.Foramoment, I had no idea whowas lying there, but thenslowly I realized it was

BethanyGrey.She was utterly changed.

ThewomanI’dknownbeforehad been large and strong,withmoundsofextrafleshonherbody, thekindofwomanwho would’ve looked athome in a powerliftingcontest. But now, BethanyGrey had been reduced to ashell of a person. There wasstill extra flesh, but it hung

off her bones in loose folds,as if all the muscle and fatbeneathhadbeensuckedout.Wrinkles covered her ashenskin ina thousandspiderwebcracks.LikethevisionofmydeadbodyinEli’sdream,hereyes were sunken into herhead,herfaceskeletal.

I covered my mouthagainstmyrevoltingstomach.

Seeingmyalarm,Deverell

turned his attention toBethany. He let out a long,lowsigh.“It’stragic,isn’tit?She was once such afearsomecreature.”

“You’re disgusting. Youdidthistoher.”BethanyGreyhad been a horrible person,who’d done horrible things,but she didn’t deserve this.Noonedid.Thiswastheveryworst suffering I’d ever seen

anyone endure. She’d beenwasted away to nothing bytheDeath’sHeart.

“Wrong,” Deverell said,placinghishandsonhiships.“Bethany did this to herself.Oh, I put the spell onher, tobe sure, but she earned herplace. In fact,when I helpedher escape the Rush, shesurrendered to the Death’sHeart’s magic willingly. She

failed theRedWarlock.Youandyourmothershouldneverhavebeenabletodefeathim.Bethany understood she wastheweaklink.Shefailedhimin life, but has repaid him inher death. She has made theultimate sacrifice to ourmaster.”

“That’ssick.” IpointedatMarrow. “He’s already liveddozens of lives. He didn’t

evendeservethefirstone.”“You’re wrong. He

deserves all we have to givehim.”

I shook my head. “So isthat why you killed Titus?Did he fail Marrow in someway?”

“Not exactly. Titus’s sinwasthathepresumedhimselfto be as great as Marrow. Icouldn’t allow him to

continue.” Deverell turnedand motioned to the fourthaltar.“ButlikeBethany,Paulwas also there when youdefeatedmymaster.He, too,owes a death, but he is soyoung still. I decided to givehim a second chance, butsadlyhefailedoncemore.”

My head buzzed withalarm, and I jerked my gazetowardthelastaltar.Paulwas

lying there in the sameunconscious pose as theothers. Ihurriedover tohim,afraidthathewouldn’tbefarbehind Bethany. But whenmy eyes fell on him fully, Isaw that hewas hardlymoredrainedthanEli.

“How long has he beenlike this?” I turned toDeverell.

He thought about it a

moment, doing a mentalcalculation. “Six days. He’sbeen working for me allalong, you know. From themoment he first revealedhimself to you in theinfirmary.Ineededyourhelp,yousee.Ormorespecifically,what you call the DreamTeam’s help. I’d been tryingtotakeoutCorvusformonthsnow. I’ve been able to stay

ahead of him, but he wasclosing in. I couldn’t riskgoing to his house on myown.Ifhe’ddiscoveredme,Iwould’ve had to find a newdisguise, and that takesplanningandmoretimethanIcould afford. But theinvestigation you launchedagainst him proved theperfectcover.”

I felt thecolor leach from

my face. Paul had beeninvolved in all the evidencewe discovered. He’d hackedValentine’s files. He couldhave altered the contentsbefore handing them over. ItwasPaul’sideaforustogotoCorvus’s house. It was Paulwho gave me the shape-change necklace and insistedonly I could go to Corvus’shousewithhim.

But no, I refused to justtake this man’s word on it.Deverell was a master ofdeception. “Why would Paulhave helped you? He turnedhis back onMarrow after helearned thatTituswasoneofhissupporters.”

“Did he now?” Deverellarched a single eyebrow.“Areyousure?”

I wanted to rip the

mocking expression from hisface.

“The thing about Paul,”Deverell said, crossing hisarms over his chest, “is thathe craves freedom andacceptance above all else.These are the two things hisuncledeniedhimforsolong.But Paul is not stupid. Heknows that given his historytheonlywayhewill ever be

free is when Marrow is incontrol.TheMagiSenatewillnever trust him enough toleave him unattended. Hefound that out quite well inthe months after Marrow’sdefeat.”

The room seemed to spinaround me. I rememberedhow sincere Paul had beenwhenhetoldmehewoulddoanything to avoid being

imprisonedoncemore.Atthetime, I’d thought he meantthat he was on the straightandnarrowpath.ExceptwithhisWill Guardmonitors andtheneedfortheshape-changenecklace, he was more aprisonerthanever.

The realization turnedmybloodtoicewater.“IfPaulisworkingforyou, thenwhyishe like this?” I motioned to

his unconscious body, tearsthreateningagain,angryonesthistime.

“He had a last minutechange of heart,” Deverellsaid. “He started questioningme at every turn, doubtingmy decisions. I knew it wasonly a matter of time beforehe weakened. It all startedwhen he and I brought yourmother down here. I think it

was because the two of youlooksomuchalike.”

“What does that have todowithanything?”

Deverell rolled his eyes.“As if you don’t know. Paulis in love with you. Youmight be the one thing hewants almost asmuch as hisfreedom and autonomy. Ofcourse,again,he’snotstupid.Heknowsyoudon’tlovehim

in return, but feelings likethat are a sort of sickness.The heart has a way ofcorruptingthemind.Iknewitwas just a matter of timebeforehewas tempted to tellyou the truth, so I took theoptionawayfromhim.”

I gritted my teeth. “Sonowyouare theonedenyinghimhisfreedom.”

Deverell shrugged. “I

could’ve just killed himinstead.Wouldthathavebeenbetter? It certainly would’vebeen easier than having topretendIwashimallday,ifIhad done the true shift onhim.”

“Nokidding,”Isaid.“Yousucked at being him.”Outwardly, I sounded brave,but inside my fear wasspreading like an epidemic.

Hecould’vekilledPaul—andeaten his heart. He could’vedoneittoEliormymom.He could do it tome and

no one would ever know.They’ll never find me downhere.

Deverell laughed. “It wasgoodenoughtofoolyouforawhile. The mission toCorvus’s house was asuccess.”Hereached intohis

pocket andwithdrew a silverring.

“Youstolethat?”“Oh, yes. This ring was

themainreasonI’vehadPaulworking so hard to get youthere.Corvuskeptitinasafeinthekitchen.Tookusalongtimetofigureoutthelocationandcombination.”

“Whatisit?”“Invincibility.” Deverell

reached into his other pocketandwithdrewtwomorerings,one golden and the other thedark dull color of iron. Heplacedthesilverringwiththeothertwo.Thenheclosedhisfingersaroundthem.

Magic stirred in the air.There was a faint tinklingsound, and then Deverellopened his hand once more.The three rings were now

linkedintoone.Hehelditup,and I saw that together theymade theBorromean rings—the symbol of magickindunited. If the silver ringbelonged to Marrow, Iwonderediftheothertwohadonce belonged to hisBorromean brothers, nowdead.

I shivered, sensing thepower in the rings the same

way that I sensed it inBellanax. “That makessomeoneinvincible?”

“As near as it is possibleto be.” Deverell aligned thethree rings into one and thenslid it onto his right indexfinger. With a look oftriumphheclaspedhishandstogether and turned hisattention fully to me. “It’snow time for your part.”

Deverell reached into hispocket once more and thistime he pulled out my silverbracelet.

I inhaled, jealousy andfear warring for dominanceinside of me. I wantedBellanax back. Right now.ForasecondIwanteditmorethan anything else, evensavingmymotherandEli.

Unaware of my inner

struggle,Deverelltookofftheglamour on the sword.Bellanax appeared in hishand, the runes on the bladewinking in the lights floatingoverhead.

Heturnedtheswordover,examining it from all sides.“Do you know much aboutswordlore,Dusty?”

I shook my head. “LadyElaine says most of the lore

hasbeenlost.”Deverell clucked his

tongue. “So it has, like somany things. I didn’t knowmuch about itmyself, either,but I’ve since learned. Itappearsthatsomeswords,themostpowerfulones,havetheability to steal the souls ofthose theykill.Abit like theDeath’sHeart,actually.”

Mr.Corvus’swords came

back to me—soul magic. Adeeper, darker fear began tospreadthroughmenow.

“Only for most swords,the soul-stealing happensonly during the first kill,”Deverell continued, turningBellanaxovertoexaminetheother side. “It was for thisreason that a youngswordsmaninpossessionofanewly made sword would

often seek out the mostpowerfulbeinghecould findto kill first. That’s how thissword became a numenvessel in the first place. Thevery first person to possessthe sword all those centuriesago sought out the mostpowerful magickind of theage,andkilledhimwithit.”Bellanax,Ithought.Hadit

been a person once? A

magickind, slain by thesword’s first owner andtrappedinsideitforever?

“Marrow became itsowner not long after,”Deverellsaid,walkingovertothe center altar. I followedhim, reluctantly.“Hemade itwhat it is now.Hepossessedthe sword up until the timeyoukilledhim.”

I flinched. It was true—I

had killed him, stabbed himwithhisownsword;I’ddoneit to save my mom, Eli,Selene, myself. But Isuddenly felt unclean, soiledby the sword and itsbloodthirstyhistory.

“But a strange thinghappened then.” Deverellshifted the sword in hishands, turning it sidewayswhere he cupped the blade

with his other hand. “Thesword had never been usedagainstMarrowbefore,neveron a man who can be killedbut who cannot die. All theothertimesMarrowhadbeenkilled before, the swordremained safe from hisattackers, thebondunbroken.But when you used his ownsword on him, you trappedhim in it.His soul—his vital

essence—should have stayedtethered to his body longenough for the phoenix toreclaim him. Instead, yousliced it free and the swordpulled him in. Marrow hasbeen trying to get out eversince.”

I felt my knees go weakand I started to sway on myfeet.Memoriesracedthroughmymind of all the times the

sword had spoken to me, ofthe way it had shared spellswithme. It’s intelligenceandliveliness had been so farabove other numen bonds,nothingatall likeEliandhiswand.Marrow, I thought. It had

been Marrow all along. Orhadit?Bellanaxwasinthere,too.Wasn’tit?

“It took me a very long

time to figure it out,”Deverell said, drawing myattention back to him. “I’ddone everything right torevive Marrow. He trainedmewellwhattodoifhewaskilled. I soughtout theGreatOuroboros, knowing hewould need its power tospeeduptheprocess,andtheblack phoenix performed itspart—resurrecting his body

with its magic. Everythingseemed to be working, butMarrowwouldnotwakeup.Iperformed nousdesmos withhim and there was nothingthere. He was an emptyshell.”

Deverell paused, his gazedropping to Marrow for amoment. Then he lookedbackatmeagain.“I’dstartedto believe hemight really be

gone this time—thatyouhaddone the impossible anddefeated him. But then youcame to me for help, and Inoticed the block on yourmind.Marrowtoldmeonceithad been the same for himwhen he first claimed thesword. He did not know itsname,butohhowhewantedto.”Just like me. Mymuscles

clenched.“At first, I thought you

bonding with the sword wasevidence that Marrow wastruly gone,” Deverellcontinued. “But I refused togiveuphope.Notuntil Ihada chance to see the swordmyself.TheMagiSenatehadhidden it away. IknewIhadtohelpyougetpasttheblockandcomplete thebond.After

you saved Lyonshold, whileyouwerelyingunconscious,Iconvinced Lady Elaine to letme examine you and thesword. It was easy once shelearned all I’d done to helpyou.” He paused, drawing adeepbreath.“ButthemomentI touched it, I knew mymaster was not dead. I felthim there, dormant but noless powerful. It was then I

realizedwhat I needed to dotobringhimback.”

I thought Imight be sick,shame burning in my belly.I’d fallen for it, fallen foreverything. I’d been so easyto manipulate, so willing totrust.

“But all this had taken along time,” Deverell said.“Without its spirit, mymaster’s body began to

decay.Ihadnochoicebut tosteal the Death’s Heart tokeep that part of him alive.Andnow,it’stimeforyoutomake him whole again.”Deverell held the sword outtome.

“What am I supposed todo?” I didn’t make a movetoward the sword, eventhough every instinct Ipossessed was telling me to

take it back. It belonged tome;webelongedtogether.

“It’s simple.” Deverellmotioned towardMarrow. “Iwant you to kill him with itagain.”Kill him? My stomach

clenched.IshiftedmygazetoMarrow. Asleep he didn’tlook at all scary, not how Iknew he would be oncerestored to full life.Thiswas

amanbentondominatingtheworld.HowcouldIwillinglyset him free? Assuming itwould even work. The verynotionthatdeathwouldbringlifeseemedludicrous.

“Come on now,Dusty.Adealisadeal,”Deverellsaid,taking a step closer to me.“OnceIrestoreMarrowtohisfull self, I will let you, yourmother,andEligo.”

I clenched my teeth,knowingagainstallhopethathe was lying. The last timeI’d facedMarrow he’dmadeitquiteclear thathecouldn’tletapairofdream-seerslive,not if we weren’t using ourpowers for him. Deverellwouldn’tbeanydifferent.

I looked away from him,down at Marrow. There hadto be some way. There was

alwaysaway,wasn’tthere?Bellanax. My eyes fixed

onthesword.ItwasTheWillsword, the most powerfulmagical object in existence.AndDeverellwas offering itback to me. He believed Iwoulddo it, that IwouldusetheswordonMarrowtosavemy loved ones. But he wasforgetting something crucial.While Marrow might have

corrupted the sword’s magicfrom the inside, on theoutside,itwasstillasword—a weapon designed forkilling.

Oh, I would use it allright.

Onhim.I closed my eyes for a

moment, summoning all mycourage. I would have to bequick. No hesitation. We

werestandingcloseenoughIcould reach him easily withthatthreefeetofsteel.

“Okay,”Isaid.“Giveittome.”

A confident smile snakedacross Deverell’s face as hehandedtheswordover.

My fingers closed aroundthe hilt, and somethingclicked inside me, thereassurance ofmy bondwith

Bellanax. The sword surgedtolife,anditspowerbegantoflow into me. My owntrapped magic didn’t matter.Withthisswordinmyhands,I was invincible once more.All my fears drained away.Bellanax was here with me.To serve me, to defend andprotect.

But then another powerreared up in the sword,

something dark and equallystrong—Marrow.

The twopowers struggledfor dominance. For amoment, I was certainBellanax would win, but inthe next I sensed the darkpowerexpanding,forcingoutthelight.Istartedtoletgoofthe hilt, but I wasn’t fastenough. In an instant, thesword’spower turnedagainst

me—and took over. It was afeeling I’d experiencedbefore. Once on Lyonsholdand once in Deverell’sclassroom.Possession.No. I fought against it,

eyes squeezed shut. But itwas like trying to stand in arushing river. Without myown magic to cling to, mymind and will bent towardMarrow’s. Inch by inch the

sword turned me away fromDeverell and towardMarrow’s body, lying pronejustahead.

I shifted the sword inmyhand, pointing the bladedownward. My gaze fell onthe Red Warlock. His facewas waxy in his long sleep,hisbodyclosetolifeless.

I raised the hilt of thesword above my head, and

thenwithonemightythrust,Idrove it down, burying thebladeinMarrow’schest.

Therewas a loudburst ofpowerastheswordconnectedwiththeRedWarlock.Magicexploded outward, makingthe ground shake and thewalls tremble. Bits of rockssprayed down from theancient ceiling in a haze ofdust. The black phoenix

launchedintotheair,seekingasaferperch.

I barely noticed. Thesword was vibrating in myhands, making my wholebody shake. Something waswrong. I could sense thesword’s fear—the realBellanax,thetrueheartoftheswordandnumenvessel.

I tried to pull the swordout, to save it, but the blade

shattered.There was another

explosion of magic, andBellanax’s presence in mymindvanished.Iheldthehiltin my hand, but severalinchesabovethecrossguard,the blade ended in a jagged,diagonal line of shorn steel.TheWillsword,theswordofpower and ancient magic,indestructible and infallible,

wasbroken.My eyes dropped to the

body beneath me. Onemoment my heart poundedpainfully against mybreastbone, as if it weretrying to force its way out,and in the next it stoppedbeating all together. The airin my lungs left me in ascream loud enough tomakethewallstrembleagain.

Itwasn’tMarrowlyingonthealtarbeneathme.

ItwasEli.Hewasawake,eyesopen,

and mouth twisted in agrimace of pain. Blood wasspreading over his chestwhere the sword had piercedhim,where evennowhalfofBellanax’sbladeremained.

28

TheCurse

Theworldended.

Icouldfeelithappening,asingle moment stretching oninto eternity. There wouldneverbeanythinggoodagain,nothingbutthis—Elidying.

Bymyhands.Mykneesgaveway,andI

collapsed beside him,dropping what remained ofthesword.“Eli!” Iscreamed.“Eli!”

It couldn’t be him. It

couldn’t. Marrow had beenlying here, so real and solid.But then I saw the necklacearoundEli’sthroat—stifflikea choker, a green gem at itscenter, in between smooth,opaque teeth. It had all beenan illusion, a horrible deadlycharade. Even the Death’sHeart was gone. But if Elihadbeenherethewholetime,wherewasMarrow?

Iturnedtothealtaracrossthe way, the one where Elihad lainwhen I first arrived.Marrow occupied it now.Hewas slowly rising to his feet,the real Death’s Heart in hishand.Itnolongerglowed,butwas a black lifeless thingoncemore.

“Master,” Deverell said,stepping forward to helpsteady the olderman. “Here,

you’llwant thisnow that theswordisbroken.”

Marrow turned hisclouded gaze onto the objectDeverell was holding out tohim.“TheBorromeanrings?”Marrow’s voice creaked liketoo-dryleather.

“Yes, the trueone. I havefinallyunitedthemagain.”

Marrow dropped theDeath’sHeart,tossingitaside

like it held no moresignificance than a child’stoy. He extended his righthandandallowedDeverelltoslidetheringintoplaceonhisindexfinger.

“What did you do?” Iscreamed at Deverell, thesound choked by tears. Mymind was beyond thinking,beyond anything but thehorrorexpandinginmychest,

threatening to suffocate thelifefromme.

“Therewasonefinalpieceof the sword lore I forgot tomention,” Deverell said, hisvoicemockinglycasual.“Theonly way to free a spirittrappedinabloodedswordisto break the blade.” Hepaused, and the smile thatcrossed his lips might’vebeen mistaken for sympathy

ifnotforthecoldglintinhiseyes. “And the only way tobreak a sword of power isthroughanactofbetrayalbyitsmaster.”Betrayal.“But…but Ididn’tdo it.

It wasn’t me. You made medoit.Ididn’tknow!”

Deverell laughed. “Youthink intent matters in suchthings? That the magic can

distinguish between what’syouandwhat’s thesword?Itdoes not and it cannot. Aphysicalact isaphysicalact.Murderismurder.”

I looked back at Eli,flashes of Lady Elaine’svision playing in my mind.The curse. “Oh, God, Eli.” Itouched his face, fingerstrembling.Ididn’tknowwhatto do. He was bleeding out.

Hewasgoingtodie.Buthewas still awake.A

moanescapedhislips,andhereached for the blade in hischest,tryingtowrenchitout.He only succeeded in slicinghishands.

“Stop it, Eli!” I grabbedhis arms and forced himdown. If he pulled the bladefreehewouldonlybleedoutfaster. I looked at Deverell

and then Marrow. The latterwas fully awake now, fullyaliveandreturned.Thankstome.“Helpme,”Isaid.There was no pity in

Marrow’sgazeasheturnediton me. No mercy. He nolonger seemed confused bywhatwashappening.Perhapshewasn’t.He’dbeenpresentfor the whole thing, trapped

insideBellanax.“Help me,” I said,

pleading now. “I saved you.Youoweme.”

“I owe you nothing,”Marrowsaid.Thecreakinhisvoicewasgone,replacedwiththecold,firmsuretyofamanwho’d lived and died athousandtimesbefore.Amanwhofearednothing.Immortalandinhuman.“Igaveyouthe

chance to serve me once.Nowyouwillservenoone.”

I braced, waiting for himto kill me. Tremors rolledthrough my body in chaoticwaves. But Marrow onlystaredatmeamomentlongerbeforeturninghisattentiontoDeverell. “You have donewell.”

Shocktorethroughme.Hewas going to let me live? It

didn’t make sense. Only …without my dream-seerpower,Iwasnothreattohim—andEliwasalreadydying.

A sob bubbled up in mychest, and I choked it off. Isearched for my mother,hoping she could help nowthat the Death’s Heart spellwas broken, but she wasunmoving atop the altar.Asleep or dead, I couldn’t

tell.I turned to Paul. He was

awakeandsittingup,hiseyesdazed—until they met mine.Understanding crossed hisface, but his reaction wasunreadable. It might havebeentriumphorregretorcoldindifference. I didn’t care. Afierce and primal desire toattackhimcameoverme.

Belatedly,IrealizedthatI

could attack him—withmagic. The shock wave ofBellanax breaking must’veundone the block Deverellhad put on me. With theknowledge came new hope.NotthatIwouldsurvivethis;Iwasn’tdelusional.ButthatIdidn’t have to go quietly. IwouldratherdiefightingthanlivewithoutEli.Than to liveknowingIhadkilledhim.

MarrowandDeverellbothhad noticed Paul now, and Itook advantage of theirdistraction to retrieve whatremainedofBellanax,thehiltwithitsbrokenbladelyingatthe base of the altar. Themoment I picked it up, Isensed the magic in it still;some small remnant ofBellanax remained. It wouldhavetobeenough.

“What shall we do withthe boy?” Deverell said,directing the question atMarrow.

The Red Warlock rubbeda hand over his long beard,smoothing the ragged strandsstraightforamoment.“Standup,PaulKirkwood,”Marrowfinallysaid.

Paul did so, visiblytrembling from either

weaknessorfearorboth.Marrow walked closer to

him, his long red tunicbillowing behind him. Fromits perch atop the wall, theblack phoenix gave a loud,long screech. The soundmade Paul flinch, but he didnotretreat.

Marrow halted a few feetfrom him. “You havebetrayed me in your heart,

PaulKirkwood.Youclaimtoserveme, towantmywill tobedone,butinyourheartitisyour own will that holdssway.”

Paul swallowed, thecordsinhisthroatflexing.

“If you would have mespare you, if you wouldcommit yourself to me, thenyoumustproveyourloyalty.”Marrow stopped speaking,

and the black phoenixshriekedagain.

“How?”Paulsaid.Marrow’s gaze slid tome

then back to Paul. “Youalreadyknow.”Killher.I gritted my teeth, my

fingers clenched aroundBellanax.SoitwouldbePaulfirst.Firsthim,thenDeverell.If I could take down those

two, it would be enough tomake a difference—to havemademylifematter.

IwasstillkneelingbesideEli,theswordoutofsightforthe moment. I touched whatremained of Bellanax’s spiritwith my mind, asking it forhelponelasttime.Sluggishlyitgavemeitsanswer.

“Dusty,”Elisaid.I looked down to find his

eyes on my face. He wasmore aware than before, fearand pain etched around hismouth.“Shhhh,”Isaid.ThenI leaned forward and kissedhim on the lips.At the sametime, I raised my hand andgavehimthesword,forcingitinto his palm. “Its name isBellanax,” I whispered. “Itwill keep you safe.” It willspare you more pain, I

silently added. It was all Icouldgivehimnow.

Then not allowing him achancetorespond,Istoodupand walked around the altartoward Paul. He approachedmeslowly,meetingmygaze.I saw hatred in his eyes anddeterminationinthehardlineofhismouth.Ibracedfortheattack, turning the word ofthe spell over in my mind.

But I needed to wait for theright opening. If I attackedtoosoon,hemightblock,andI would lose the element ofsurprise.Andmynerve.Myskinturnedtoice,my

body to stone. Every muscleclenched, everynerveendingfiringwithadrenaline.

Paul drew a deep, steadybreath and let it out slowly.

“I’msorry,Dusty.”I didn’t respond, only

stared at him. My rage wasbeyond words, my hurtbeyondargument.

“Didyou…”Hehesitated,his expression softening. Foramoment,helookedlikethePaul I first met—handsome,sweet, and incapable ofduplicity, the Paul I alwayswanted him to be. “Did you

everloveme?”I could tell the question

cost him, and some of myanger gave way to pity. Ievaluated my answercarefully. This was the end,my last moments. I didn’twanttolie.“Yes,”Isaid,andmyanswercostme,too.

Paul’s lips twisted indisbelief.

“It’strue.DoIfeelforyou

whatIfeelforEli?”Myvoicecaught on his name, and Ipaused,wrestling for control.“No.Butlove…thekindthatmatters,thekindthatlasts…that’s not a feeling. It’s achoice.Ichosetobelievethebest of you, Paul. I chose toforgive you despiteeverything. I would neverhavebeenable todothat if Ididn’t care about you.

Hatred? It’s a whole loteasier.”

“I know,” Paul said atonce,and there seemed tobea deeper meaning in hiswords. I wasn’t sure if hebelieved me, or just that hewanted to. Or maybe sometruthresonatedinsidehim.

“Get on with it, Paul,”Deverell said. “Before wemakethechoiceforyou.”

“I’m sorry, Dusty,” Paulsaid again, but his voicewasdifferentthistime.

Ibraced,mymagic at theready, humming beneath myskin.

Paul raised his hand, andhis mouth parted with thewords of an incantation.“Temno!” he shouted,spinning around. I ducked,but there was no need. The

spell burst from Paul’sfingertips in a flash of whitelight and struck Deverell inthe face. Deep, red gashesappearedacrosshischeek.

Deverell shrieked, but thepain didn’t slow him down.“Hypno-soma!”

“Alexo!” Paul’s shieldspell went up just in time todeflect the dazing curse. Itricocheted, zipping over our

heads and up toward thecavernous ceiling. A showerofrockscamefallingdownasecondlater.

Recovering from myshock, I cast the jab spell,aiming for Deverell’s head.“Fligere.”

He parried the spell andcountered.Idovetotheright,justoutoftheway.Theblackphoenixlaunchedintotheair,

lettingoffanotherscreech.I rolled and jumped up.

With Paul already engagingDeverell, I took aim atMarrow.“Peiran.”

The spell soared righttoward him, and Marrowmadenomove todefend.Hedidn’thaveto.Whenitcamewithinafootofhim,thespellstruckaninvisiblebarrierandbounced off. Around

Marrow’s finger theBorromean ring glowed withapure,whitelight.

Ahorriblesenseofdéjàvucameoverme.ThelasttimeIfaced Marrow he had beenprotected by Bellanax, thesword absorbing everycombative spell we aimed athim. Nothing had gottenthrough,notuntilI’dusedmymind-magic on the sword,

making the attack physicalinsteadofmagical.

Isearchedthegroundforaweapon, soon spotting ajagged rock the size of abaseball lying a few feetbehind Marrow. With mymind-magic, I lifted it intothe air then I flung it towardthe back of his head, puttingall the force into it that Icould. It cut through the air

withasharphissfollowedbya loud crack. The rockbounced off the invisibleshieldsameasthespell.

Marrow raised his righthand towardme, theglowofthe Borromean ring paintinghisgauntfaceaghastlywhitewithdeepblackshadowsoverhiseyesockets.“Ana-acro!”

Iflungmyhandup.“Alex—”

Screeching, the blackphoenix dove at me, talonsextended.Ifumbledthespell,and the bird swerved at thelast second, dodgingMarrow’s incoming spell.Themagic slammed intome.Silver ropes appeared aroundmywristsandankles,pinningmy limbs together. I lostmybalance and fell forward,striking thegroundhardwith

nowaytobracemyself.Marrow strode forward,

his face lit with a sinistergrin.“Kaio-dontia.”

Pain exploded over myskin likebeing jabbedwithamillion tiny needles all atonce. I screamed, convulsingagainst the silver ropes.Marrow took off the spell,giving me a few seconds ofrelief,onlytocast itagain.It

was worse the second time,knife points instead ofneedles.

I forced my eyes openedand onto Paul, onto anythingthat might distract me fromthepain.Butmyscreamshaddistracted him. He turned aquickglanceonme,justlongenoughforDeverell’sspelltostrike him in the leg. Therewas a sharp snap, like the

soundofsomeonebreakingatree branch over a knee, andPaulcollapsed.

Once more, Marrowremoved his spell, and thefeel of those fiery fangschewing up my skindissipated. I sucked airthrough my teeth, my bodyrawandthrobbing.

“What shall we do withthemnow?”Deverellsaid,his

gazefixedonMarrow.Therewas something hungry in hisexpression.Gooseflesh brokeout over my already tenderskin.

I looked away from him,my stomach roiling as mymind provided a gruesomeimageofhimeatingahumanheart. Movement in thedistance caught my eye. Mybreath hitched when I saw

that my mother had rolledover onto her stomach. Shewas awake and positionedbehindMarrowandDeverell.

I pulled my gaze awayfrom her, afraid Marrowwouldnotice.At themomenthe was staring at Paul, hisexpressionevaluative.IcouldhearPaul’s laboredbreathingas he held his broken legbetween his hands. He

wouldn’t be able to attackwithmagic,notwiththepainofabrokenleggettingin theway.

Marrow shook his head.“Neither shape would beworthmuchtoyouafter—”

“Hupno-soma!” Mymom’s voice cut across theroom,shrillandtremulous.

MarrowandDeverellbothturned. I watched the spell

reach Deverell, but nothinghappened. He didn’t evenflinch. The magic in it hadbeen weak, almostnonexistent. With a sinkingheart,IrealizedmymomhadbeenundertheDeath’sHeartspell too long. She hadn’tdream-fed in weeks, herfictusallbutgone.

“Now that one,” Marrowsaid, extending his hand

toward my mother. “Has aheart worth taking. Ana-agra!”Thesamesilver ropesaroundmywrists and anklesappeared around mymother’s. The next moment,Marrowliftedherintotheairby those ropes and levitatedherclosertowherePaulandIlay. She landed in anawkward heap and let out awhimper. I tried to shut the

sound out, tears stinging myeyes. At least from thisposition I couldn’t see Eli. Ididn’t have to watch himdying.

“Itwill bemypleasure totake it,” Deverell said. Hestepped up to my mother,stretched out before him.Long, curved claws hadappeared on the tips of hisfingers. They looked sharp

enoughtoshredrawmeat, totear through thebonesofherrib cage and yank the heartfromherbody.

“Don’t!” I jerked againstthe ropes, ignoring the waytheyburnedmyskinfromthemovement. The sweet,repugnant stench of singedflesh and hair reached mynose.“Don’t!”

“Hold on,” Marrow said,

and Deverell paused, hispredator’s hands hoveringinches above my mother’sprone form. “Let’s see to thedaughterfirst.”

My mom started toscream, butDeverell slappedher, open-palmed. His clawsleft red ribbons of bloodacross her face, and she fellsilent.

Marrowtookastepcloser

to me. “Do you have yourknife?”he said,motioning toDeverell.

A moment later, Deverellhanded him a knife with aserratedblademadeofbone.

Marrow gripped the knifeoverhand like an ice pick.“It’s only fitting that thedream-seers should dietogether, slowly andpainfully. But don’t worry,

my dear Dusty. In the end,dying is so much likesleeping. For you, it mightevenbelikedreaming.”

I could only hope. Mythoughts turned to Eli, thefear insidemesmaller thanitmight’vebeen.Therewasnopoint in fighting anymore.Therewasnowayoutofthis.With the silver ropes aroundmywristsIwasashelplessas

a newborn kitten, completelyat the mercy of the manstandingoverme.Mylife,asshort and insignificant as ithad been, meant nothing tothe RedWarlock. I was justone more victim in a longslaughterline.

Marrow raised the daggerover his head, and I cranedmy neck toward Eli. I couldjustseehimstill lyingonthe

altar. His eyes were closed,but his chest rose and fell.Asleep then, or so I hoped. Iwouldjoinhiminhisdreams,andwewoulddietogether.Inthe end, there was no otherwayIwould’vechosen.

29

TheFallen

My eyes slid closed, and I

waitedfortheblowtofall.Itnevercame.Astrangethumpingsound

filled the air—no it beat theair.

I opened my eyes, myheartclimbingintomythroat,hope filling my lungs. Asecond later, I spotted her.Somehow, someway, Selenehad foundherwayhere. Shesoared through the air, her

black wings like rallyingbanners. She wasn’t alone.Impossibly, Corvus wasdangling from her arms. Theweight of him dragged herdown, each vertical inch astruggle, but it didn’tmatter.As soon as they cleared theGreat Ouroboros, she let go.Corvushittheground,rolled,then sprang to his feet withthe agility and grace of a

muchyoungerman.Heletflywithaspell,aiminglow.

The magic struck theground a few feet fromMarrow. The rock floorexploded, pieces spraying uplike shrapnel. Marrow andDeverellbothdoveforcover,while I rolled around, tryingtoprotectmyfaceandhead.

“Ou-agra,” a voice spokefrom behind me. A second

later, I felt the silver ropesaround my limbs fallingaway. Gaping, I lookedtoward Eli. He was leanedtoward me with Bellanaxpointedlikeawand.Ilurchedtomy feet and raced over tohim.

“Eli,youshouldn’t—”He silenced me with a

hard, fierce look, one thatbelied theweakness I sensed

in him. Blood still flowedfromthewoundinhischest.

“Fight,” he said. “Stopthem.”

It tookallmywill to turnaway from him. But he wasright. The odds had tipped,and there might still be timeto save Eli. Real life wasn’tlikethemovies.Deathwasn’talways so quick, butsometimes a slow, creeping

thinglikeasnakestalkingitsprey through tall grass.Hurry,hurry,hurry, theneedpulsed through me,adrenaline sharpening myfocusandreflexes.

Corvus was taking onMarrowandDeverellatonce,lobbying spells andcountering them. His skillmadethebestofthegladiatorteam look like beginners. I

casttheunbindingspellatmymother, freeing her from thesilverrobes.

“Help, Eli,” I told her.Then I joined Corvus in theattack.

Overhead, Selene wasbusywith the black phoenix.The moment the bird hadspottedamovingtargetithadzeroed in on her. Now theywere engaged in a kind of

aerial war dance. They doveand soared, spun and twirled—the phoenix chasing whileSeleneaimedspellsatitoverhershoulder.

WithMarrowprotectedbythe Borromean ring, the bestCorvus and I could do waskeep him and Deverell toopreoccupied to escape.Marrow spent as much timeprotectingDeverell as he did

attacking us.We were luckythatMarrow seemed to be athalf strength. As it was, wecouldbarelymatchhim.

Butthescalestippedonceagain as Selene dove towardus, heading forMarrow. Shewas covered in dirt andblood, her wings ripped inplaces, but she flew straightand fast, more missile thangirl.Marrowonlyhadtimeto

duck, but Selene caught himeasily, one hand taking holdof his long beard and theotherhisarm.Thenusingthemomentum of her dive, shehoisted him up, flew a fewdozenfeet,andhurledhimatthewall.

He hit it back first, skullwhacking against the stone.Hedroppedtothegroundandlay there, motionless. The

black phoenix screamedoutrageandwentafterSelenewith renewed fervor. Shetried to stay ahead of it, butshewas tiring and the attackon Marrow had slowed herdown. When the blackphoenix reached her, it sankits talons into her left wingandyanked,shreddingfeatherand cartilage both. Thephoenix didn’t let go until it

hadtornallthewaydownthelength of the wing. Selenetriedtostayintheair,butherinjured wing failed. Shebegan to fall in quick,awkward spirals, half-glidingwithheruninjuredwing.

“Selene!”I reachedout toher with my mind-magic. Icouldn’t stop her falling; Iwasn’tstrongenoughforthat,but I helped steady her

descent. She landed on herfeet hard then tumbledforward. Her wings werestretchedout behindher, oneblack andwhole, the other abloodyruin.

The black phoenixwasn’tsatisfied. Already it wasswooping down for anotherpass at her. Leaving CorvustodealwithDeverell,Iracedover toSelene, armextended

over my head as I let off abarrage of spells at the bird.Despite its massive size, itwas impossible to hit, but Iwas able to keep it fromgettingcloseenoughtostrikeagain. It helped that Selenehad fallen near the wall,givinguspartialcover.

“Are you okay?” I asked,when I reached Selene. Shewas slowly struggling to her

feet.“I will be,” she replied,

although I could hear agonyin her voice. But the paindidn’tkeepherfromshootinga dazing spell at the blackphoenixcirclingaboveus. Insecondsshehad thingsundercontrol enough that I couldturnmyattentionback to thefight between Corvus andDeverell. Marrow was still

lying next to the wall,unconsciousitseemed.

“So you finally foundme,”Deverellsaid,flashingamalicious grin at Corvus.“Tookyoulongenough.”

“It was easy,” Corvusreplied. “Once you enteredmy house and stolemy ring.Fligere!”

The spell soared toDeverell, but he blocked it.

“Howdidyou findyourwaydown here though?Thatwasimpressive, even from you.Ceno-crani!”

Corvus parried the magicwithacasualflickofhisarm.“I put a tracer spell on mysafe. Although I neverbelievedyouwouldbestupidenoughtofallforit.”

Deverell’s expressiondarkened,andhecastanother

curse at Corvus, angerthreadinghisvoice.

I turned back to Selene.“Yougotthis?”

Shenodded,bitingher lipas she concentrated on theblack phoenix. Wishing hergoodluck,Idartedacrossthecircle,meaningtorunbehindDeverell toget toMarrow.IfSelene had been able to pickhimupthatway, thenmaybe

the Borromean ring didn’tprotect him from a close,direct physical attack. If Icould get the ring from him,wemightsucceed.

Themoment I drew near,Deverell launched a spell atme.“Fligere!”

“Alexo.” My shield spellwentupjustasDeverell’sjabspell crashed into it. Theshield shattered on impact,

but it still deflectedDeverell’s spell, shooting itright back at him. He saw ittoo late, and the magicglanced his shoulder,knocking him backward astep.

ItwastheopeningCorvushad been waiting for. Withhatredburninginhiseyes,heran forward, seized Deverellbythethroat,andhoistedthe

shape-changer into the airwith brute strength. Deverellgrabbed Corvus’s wrists andtried to pull him off, butCorvus was bigger and hisragelenthimpower.

Abruptly, Deverellstopped struggling. His facebegantoblurasheshiftedhisshape. Lean, wiry Deverelldisappeared, replaced by ahulking, mountain of a man

I’dneverseenbefore.Corvuswasn’tstrongenough toholdup this new form, and asecond later the shape-changerbrokefree.Heletoutabooming,gleeful laughandthrewapunch.ThemeatyfistconnectedwithCorvus’sjaw.The older man’s headsnapped sideways, and hestumbled,nearly falling fromtheblow.

“Frangere!” I said. Thebreaking spell struck theshape-changer in the chest,butheonlygrunted,thethick,tough hide of his new shapeprotectinghim.

Corvus recovered enoughto throw a dazing curse athim, but like my breakingspell, it had little effect.Deverell was slower in thisbody, but his size and

strength made up for it. Helunged for Corvus with abearlike movement. Corvusshuffled back, just escapingtheassault.

“Ana-agra!” I heard Paulcry frombehindme. I turnedto see that he struggled to astanding position, all theweight on his uninjured leg.The spell hit the shape-changer, but as the silver

ropes began to appear, hewidened his arms and legs,using sheer physical will tokeep themagic frombindinghim.

“Noyoudon’t!”Ishouted.“Ana-agra!”A second set ofbinding ropes appearedaround Deverell. Half abreath later, Corvus cast thespell as well. Beneath thepowerof the three spells, the

shape-changer’s strengthfinally gave way. Themagicdrew his hands and feettogether, and it was all hecoulddotostayupright.

Corvusstrodetowardhim,onceagainseizinghimbythethroat. The shape-changer’sform blurred for a secondtime. I half-expected him toturn intoCorvus andmake atwisted play for mercy, but

instead he reverted to hisDeverellshape.Fearsparkledin his eyes. He opened hismouth, trying to speak, butCorvus only tightened hisgrip.Foramoment,IthoughthemeanttostrangleDeverelltodeath.

But then Corvus drewback his right hand, stillholdingDeverell’s neckwiththe other. He pointed at the

shape-changer’sface.“Thisisformybrothers,yousonofabitch.Luo-dikho!”

Strangling would’ve beenbetter,cleaner.

The asunder curse struckDeverell dead center. Hisbody ripped apart in a sprayof blood, tissue, and bone.Then the two halves of himcrumbled to the floor withwet,meatythumps.

All the light in the cavevanished, and darknessdescendedlikecurtains.ButitwastoolatetoblockoutwhatI’dseen.Mygorgerose,andIchokeditdown.

Corvus spoke anincantation into thedarkness,and light reappeared, thesame glowing orbs thatDeverell had used. With theshape-changer’s mangled

body once more in view, Iturned away, my arms andlegs trembling. I was toosickened toberelievedaboutDeverell’s demise. I almostforgot where I was, what Ishould be doing. Then Ispotted Marrow lying in thedistance,andIforcedmyfeettopropelmeforward.

“Dusty, look out!” Seleneshouted.

ToolateIsawthemassiveform of the black phoenixdivingmyway.Severalspellsstruck it, one from Selene,one from Corvus. Even Paulhad taken aim at it fromwhere he stood, leaningagainst one of the altars. Itdidn’t matter. The blackphoenix was either immuneor too focused on its goal tocare. Its talonsclosedaround

my shoulders, piercing fleshand muscle. I shrieked as itpulledmeintotheair.Agonyshotdownmyarmsandback.

“Dusty!”This time itwasPaulshouting.

Theblackphoenixcarriedme across the circle towardMarrow then let go. The fallwasn’t far but I landed hardenoughtoknockthewindoutof me. Panicking with the

need to breathe, I couldn’tfight the hands that closedaroundmyarms,hoistingmetomyfeet.Therenewedpaininmy shoulder drove off thehaze from the fall, and I letoutaninvoluntaryscream.

“Don’t struggle,”Marrowspoke into my ear. Hisfamiliar had delivered me tohim like a cat with a deadmouse. A shudder passed

throughmybody.Suddenly aware of the

serrated knife atmy throat, Iforcedmyselftostill.

Everyone else had frozenas well, all except for theblackphoenix,flyingincalm,sweeping circles above usnow.

“You all understand howthis works,” Marrow said,pushing me forward. “I will

beleaving,andsolongasyoustay there and don’t try tostop me, Dusty will live. Ifyou try to stop me, she willdie and the rest of you willfollow.”

It wasn’t a hollow threat.Hemightbeweaker than thelast time I faced him, but heremained impossibly strong,hismagiccomingoffhimlikean electrical current.

Combined with theBorromean ring’s protectionhewasasformidableasever.

“Dowhathesays,”Isaid,fixingmygazeonCorvus.Ofall of them, he remained thebiggestthreattoMarrow.Mymother was standing next tohim, and although her facespoke of murder, she didn’thave the strength to back itup. She looked ready to

collapse at a single puff ofwind.

I shifted my gaze to Eli.He was still sitting up,leaning heavily on one hand,the other clutching Bellanax.There was something odd inhisexpression.He lookedfaraway. Fading away. Terrorclawedatmythoughts.

“Pleaselethimgo,”Isaid,once again addressing

Corvus.And hurry, I silentlyadded,tearsburningmyeyes.Eli was still alive, but eachsecond, each desperate beatof his heart, only drove himclosertotheend.Thelifewasseepingoutofhiminvisceraldisplay. Blood soaked hischest and the altar beneathhim.

“Okay,” Corvus said.“Go.”

“There’s a goodNightmare,” Marrow said,and then grabbingmeby theshoulder, he pulled me backwith him, edging us towardthe wall. I kept my eyes onEli. I didn’t care if Marrowescaped so long as Eli lived.Myheartbeatcountedouttheseconds. How much longerdidhehave?

“Dusty,” Eli called, and

his voice was so weak Ibarelyheardhim.

“Don’t talk, Eli. Pleasedon’ttalk.”

He raised his hand, theone holding Bellanax. “Thisis still yours,” he said, andthen with all the strength hehadleftinhim,hehurledtheswordintotheair.

It was an impossiblethrow, an impossible

distance. But this was noordinary sword, and Eli noordinaryboy.Theswordflewthrough the air, spinning hiltover jagged blade. Timeseemed to slow around me,around everything except thesword that flew with asingularpurpose. I raisedmyhand, fingers outstretched,and Bellanax soared into it,the hilt landing in my palm

likeithadalwaysbeenthere.The moment my skin

brushed it, the bond betweengirl and sword, betweenmagickindandnumenvessel,knitted into place, likeligaments binding two bonesinto a single joint. The spiritin the swordwasweak, onlyhalf-present, but ourconnection remained strong.Bellanax reached for control

andIgaveintoit,lendingthesword strength. Thiswas theBellanaxfromLyonshold,theonewhohadsavedtheislandandeveryoneonit.Andnowitwouldsaveme.

With the sword guidingmy movements, I spuntowardMarrow.Hishandstillheld the knife, but he didn’thave the same skill with atraditionalweaponthathedid

with magic. I knocked theknife aside with Bellanax’sjaggedblade.TheBorromeanring couldn’t protect himnow. I was too close, withinitssphereofmagic.Iplungedthe sword straight intoMarrow’sheart.

Hiseyeswidened,andhislips spread as if hemeant tolaughlikehehadthelasttimeI’d stabbed him with this

sword. But he didn’t laugh.Death was too quick. Withone, mighty shudder, themuscles in his body seized,thenletgo.Hedroppedtothefloor.IkeptholdofBellanax,pulling the blade free as hefell. I didn’t want his spirittrappedthistime.

I looked down atMarrow’s dead body, anythrill I’d felt vanishing at

once. Already smokebillowed up around thecorpse. The resurrectionprocesshadbegun.Theblackphoenix screeched from onhigh. I looked up, my hopeextinguishing.

Thishadtoend.Hehadtodieonceandforall.Buthow?Thebirdwasinfallible.Ithadbeen hit with spells a half-dozen times, but it looked as

sure and steady as ever.Maybe we could keep itaway, never allow it toreclaim Marrow’s spirit. Butforhowlong?Elididn’thavetime.

Screeching again, theblack phoenix dove towardme. I knew it wouldn’t stop,not until it had driven meaway. I could either run ordie. I stood my ground,

Bellanaxhotinmyhand.Something collided with

the bird midflight, a human-like object. For a second, Ithought itwas Selene, then Isaw itwasaboywithwhite,underdeveloped wings, thinand malformed rising out ofhisshoulderblades.Paul, I realized,

bewildered. Paul, who washalf wizard, half siren. Like

Selene. Only unlike her, hehad never learned to use hiswings.Hecouldn’treallyfly,notmuchmorethanthatfirstinitiallaunchthathadbroughthim soaring into the blackphoenix’s path. But it hadbeenenough.Helatchedontothe bird’s back as if heweretryingtorideitlikeadragon.The black phoenix was big,butnotbigenoughtobearhis

weight. It had flown all theway to the ceiling, hundredsoffeetaboveinitsattempttodislodge him, but now theywere falling back to theground.

Pauldidn’teventrytofly,his wings limp thingsstreaming behind him.Instead he shifted his gripuntilbothhandsheldthethin,hollowboneat the topof the

black phoenix’s wing. Hegripped it—then yanked up,forcing thebone tobend inawayitwasnevermeantto.

The black phoenix’s crydrownedoutthesoundofthewing snapping. The birdtwisted hard, body jerkingconvulsively. Paul’s griploosened.He started to slide,only to have the bird catchhim as it turned. It wrapped

its talons aroundhiswaist inaperversesortofahug.Paulhugged it back, his handsarounditsneck.Hetwistedashardashehadwiththewing.The black phoenix’s bodywentrigid,andwhathadbeena restrained descent turnedintoastraightplummet.

Itriedtoslowthemdown,but theywere too heavy andthe velocity too great. They

struck the ground together inonedeafeningcrack.Theylayas they landed, boy and birdentwined,anddidnotmove.

“Paul!” I rushed over tohim but slowed as I drewnear. The black phoenixwasclearly dead, its head thrownback on its broken neck, itslifeless eyes like dull, blackstones.

AndPaul…

I turned away from hislimp,shatteredform,gasping.Hopeless despair presseddown on me. He’d diedsaving me from the blackphoenix. He’d killed themythicalbird,butwhatdiditmatter? The creature waseternal.Itwouldresurrect.SowouldMarrow.Onlyhisfoestruly died, never him. Hewould—

The thought halted inmymind, overtaken by thesudden realization thatsomething had changed.Marrow’sbodywasnolongersmoking. There was no signoffire,nosignoflife.

I turned and looked backat the black phoenix. It, too,showed no sign of life, nohint of the magical flamesthatwouldresurrectit.

My mother staggeredtoward me. “Is it possible?”Her voice rose in shock,hopefulbutafraid.

I glanced at Corvus. HisgazeshiftedbetweenMarrowand the black phoenix overand over again. Then finally,hegaveasingle,slownod.Inmy hand, I felt Bellanax’sansweringagreement.

“He’s gone,” Moira said.

She turned to me. “He’sgone.”

Ididn’t reply. Iwanted tobehappy,toberelieved,butIcouldn’t. Paulwas dead, andEli—

Myheart lurched intomythroat.Eli. Ispunaroundandraced over to him. “Eli!”Helaymotionlessonthealtar,onhis back once more, eyesclosed.Thebrokenbladestill

rose out of his chest. Therewas somuchblood it lookedas if the stone was bleedingalongwithhim.But thatwasjust an illusion. The bloodwas all his, all him—his lifeleaking out with everypreciousreddrop.

It had leaked and leakeduntil he finally ran dry. Iknew itwithout checking fora pulse or a breath. I could

feeltheabsenceofhimasifapiece of myself had beenrippedaway.Icollapsednextto him, cupping his head inmyarms.

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

EliBookerwasdead.

30

DeathLikeSleep

Icried.

Every fiber of my beingwept,everymuscleclenchingand unclenching, spasms ofdespairandheartbreak.Itwaspointless, an empty gesture,butitwasallIhadleft.

Eli was dead. I wouldneverhearhisvoiceagainorfeelhis fingersonmyskin. Iwouldnevertastehisdreams,sosweetandperfect.Hewaslying on his back, eyes

closed,deathamasqueradeofsleep on his face. But hewasn’t dreaming. There wasno fictus. There was nothingbuttheabsenceofeverything.

“Dusty.” A gentle handtouched the top of my head.“Comeon,Dusty.Wehavetogetoutofhere.”

“No.” I didn’t look atmymother. I couldn’t bear totake my gaze off Eli,

knowingthatthiswasthelasttime I would ever see him.Despitetheashencolorofhisskin and the caked bloodaroundhismouth,hewasstillbeautiful.IwishedIcouldseehiseyes, ifonlytomemorizeforever their unique shade ofblue.

“He’s gone, Dusty,” mymothersaid,herfingersatmyshouldernow.“You’vegotto

lethimgo.”“No!”Ishookheroff,fury

bubbling up inside me likeacid.

“Your mother is hurt,Dusty,” Corvus said fromsomewherebehindme.“SoisSelene. They need your helptogetoutofhere.”

Guilt squeezed my chest,andIlookedupatmymother.Her facewasnearlyasashen

as Eli’s, deep black divotsbeneathhereyes.TheDeath’sHearthadnearlykilledher.TheDeath’sHeart.Blood began to pound in

myears. I still heldBellanaxinmyhand, thehiltwarm inmypalm.Atinythreadofthesword’sspiritremained,moreechothanvoice,butItouchedit with my mind, seekingreassurance—andknowledge.

Once again, and for thelast time, Bellanax told mewhat I needed to know. Istood up, summoning all thestrengthIhadleft.Iwastiredand sore, my shouldersaching fromwhere the blackphoenixhadwoundedme,butI had to push past that justlong enough to accomplishthis task. The others wouldtry to stopme. I had to take

care of them before theycould.

“Hupno-drasi!” I aimedthe sleeping spell at Corvus.The attack took him bysurprise. His eyes widenedwithshock,buthewasasleepbefore his body struck theground.

“Whatareyoudoing?”mymom asked, taking a stepbackfromme.

I pointed Bellanax at her.“WhatIhaveto.Youneedtodream-feed. Selene andCorvuswillneedyourmagictohelpthemgetoutofhere.”

“Dusty, what are yousaying?” Selene ambledtowardme.Herwings trailedbehind her. I doubted shecould retract them with thedamage to the left one. Shewaspale,likemymother,but

stillstrongenoughtoputupafight if she had to. And Iknew she would, once sherealized what I intended todo.

“I’m sorry, Selene, butI’ve got to do this. Hupno-drasi!” As with Corvus, shehadn’t anticipated the attack,not fromme,herbest friend.She crumpled to the ground,deeply asleep and already

dreaming. I hated thebetrayal, but she wouldunderstand if the situationwere reversed, if it had beenLance lying on that altarinstead of Eli and she hadbeenresponsible.

“Stop this, Destiny,” mymom shrieked. I’d neverheardhersoundlikethat,asifshe were being rent apartfrom the inside out. For a

second it was almost enoughtostopme.

“I can’t, Mom.” Thenturning my back to her, Iwalked over to the altarwhere Marrow disguised asEli had lain when I firstarrived. It seemed like yearsago,aneternity.TheDeath’sHeart had fallen behind thealtar, nearly invisible in theshadows. I picked it up, my

skin crawling at the slick,densefeelofit.

“You drop that now,”mymom said, one hand pointedatme.Itwasanemptythreat.She didn’t have enoughmagicorphysical strength tostopme—andwe both knewit. But that didn’t keep herfrom trying. “You can’t dothis. I won’t let you.” Hervoicebrokeonasob.

Iclosedmyeyesanddrewa breath, fighting back myown tears. I didn’t want tohurt her, but—“I have to dothis,Mom. I can’t… I can’tlive knowing I killed him.And I can’t live knowing Icould’vesavedhim.”

My mom was crying inearnest now, her breathingjagged and her expressionbroken.

I didn’t relent. I had tomakeherunderstand.“Ifyouwant to stopme, you’ll haveto kill me yourself. Eitherway I die, but at least thisway,Eliwillgettolive.”

She wasn’t convinced—Icouldreaditinherface—butI saw the fight slowlyslipping out of her. Sheglanced at Corvus. As withSelene,fictuswascomingoff

ofhiminwaves,andshewashungry.Without a word, sheturned toward Corvus. For asecond,Iwasshockedbyhercompliance, but then Irealized her plan. She wouldrecharge her magic and stopme.

Iwaswillingtolethertry.It didn’t matter. Only Elimattered, and this heavy,gruesomeobject inmyhand.

WithBellanax’shelp,Iwouldturnitsevilpowerforgood.

As my mom got inposition over Corvus, IhurriedovertoEli.Iclimbedontopofthealtar,settlingmyknees on either side of hiswaist. I held the Death’sHeart in my left hand andBellanaxinmyright.Closingmy eyes, I listened as theswordshowedmehowtoturn

on the Death’s Heart, andhow tochannel itspower theway Ineeded it to flow—mylife for Eli’s. Instead ofdraining his vital essence, Iwouldpourmineintohim.

The Death’s Heart beganto glow, red light oozing outof it like liquid blood. Atonce I felt the pull of it. Itwas like thepullof adream,only deeper and heavier, a

descent into darkness insteadofthemulticolorexplosionoflightandfictus.Terror,likeinthe split second before a carcrash, came over me. But itwas too late to change mymind,toolatetoletgo.

AndIdidn’twantto.Iwasafirebeingsnuffedoutbythewind. I could feel ithappening,mylimbsgrowingheavy as my heart slowed. I

became terribly aware ofmybreathing. It, too, wasslowing down, each in-and-out of my lungs a greatereffort than it had ever beenbefore. I didn’t fight it; Icouldn’t. It was like fallingasleep, inescapable andwelcome. Darkness sweptoverme.Myvisiondimmed.My muscles relaxed, and Ifellforward.

I fell down … down …downintooblivion.

***

The cave was dark, the onlylight a scattering of glowingorbs, the magic inside themweakeningbythesecond.Butthe two apparitions hoveringabove the stone altar couldsee easily, their spirits’ eyespossessing a greater spectral

range than their physicalbodieshadeverknown.

“Is thisadream?” thegirlasked,turninghergazeontheboy. She was young andslenderwithredhairandeyesmirror-brightinthedarkness.

Theboyreturnedhergaze,an uncertain expressioncrossing his face. “I don’tknow,”he said after awhile.“Itfeelslikeadream.…”

“But it doesn’t,” the girlfinishedforhim.

He turned to her veryslowly, unsure of himself,unsure of everything.“There’sonlyonewaytotestit.”Heheldouthishandpalmup.

The girl studied him amoment,equallyunsure.

Thenmakinguphermind,she raised her own hand and

pressedit tohis,fingertips tofingertips, palm to palm.They were spirit, but theirbodies inhabited the sameplane of existence, givingthem substance, one next totheother.

Nothinghappened.“Not a dream,” they said

together in eerie unison. Butthey did not break the touch.Instead they wove their

fingers together. They drewcloser, shoulder to shoulder.She leaned against him,sighing.

“What happened here?”the boy said. He swept hisgaze over the room. Itwas astrange place, comprised ofseveral low stone altarssurroundedbyacircularwallshaped like a dragon. Theyweren’t alone, the boy

realized. Some of the peoplewereasleep,someweredead.At least two were dreaming.The boy glanced at the girloncemore.“Arewedead?”

Thegirlopenedhermouthto speak, but closed it as hereyes were drawn to the altarnearestthem.Twofigureslayontopofit—aboyandagirljust like them. “I don’tknow,” she answered

truthfully.The boy reached for her

with his other hand. Hepulled her close. “I knowwhat you did. I remembernow.” It sounded almost likean accusation, but not quite.The way his voice brokespoke of something different—aweormaybedespair.

“Ihadto,”thegirlsaid.“Itwas the only way to save

you.”He cupped her face,

fingerssplayed.“ButhowdoIsaveyou?”

Tears appeared in thegirl’s eyes, glistening likediamonds.“Youalreadydid.”

She leaned forward andkissed him. He kissed herback. It was a kiss full ofunspoken words andaffections, full of everything

they couldn’t say—I loveyou…Ineedyou…Good-bye.A strange noise pulled

them apart. They turnedtoward it, but they didn’tbreak their embrace, armsfoldedaroundeachother.Heheld her close, ready to dieagain to keep her safe. Shedidthesame.

In the center of the circle

theysawthecarcassofadeadanimal.Smokewasbillowingup all around it. Flamesquickly followed. Soon thefirewas so large it filled theroom with both heat andlight. The flames licked andwrithed, looking likesomething alive, a ravenousbeast consuming the body ofthebirdatitscenter.Itburnedandateandburneduntilthere

wasnothingleftbutashesandthefirewentout.

The girl and boywatchedit all, still locked in theirembrace. They knew theyshould be afraid, butwonderprevented the feeling fromreaching them. They wereghosts,afterall,whatdidtheyhave to fear from flame andashes?

But then the ashes began

tomove,likethegroundinanearthquake. Some of it gaveway,whilesomeof itbulgedup in smoky upheavals.Slowly,a formbegan to takeshape, risingoutof theasheslikeananimalburrowingoutfromtheground.Firstabeakappeared, and then a long,thinneck,likeaheron’s.Thephoenix emerged fullygrown, as large as a man.

Black from beak to tail, itstretcheditsneckandthenitswings. It gave a great shakeas if it were covered withwaterinsteadofash.

The girl covered hermouth, stifling a giggle. Itwas strange to see theformidable bird doingsomething so ungainly, soutterlynormal.Butthegigglesoon turned into a gasp. The

ashwasfallingawayfromthebird in a cloud of gray dust.When it cleared, theboyandgirl saw the phoenix was nolongerblackasithadbeenindeath. In this new life itwasyellow and red, gold andrubies. Red feathers covereditsback,head,and the topofits tail,while golden feathersformed its chest and theundersideofitswings.

Tearsfilledthegirl’seyesas she lookedat thephoenix.It was so beautiful,indescribable in the way itmadeherheartfeellight.Shethought she could go onlooking at it forever andnever want for a differentview.

“Itneedsanewname,”theboy said, and the wonder inhisvoicegavesound towhat

thegirlfelt.The phoenix opened its

mouth.Theybothexpectedascreech, like the one theyremembered—the kind thatwouldpiercetheirheartswithterror. Instead itmadea soft,cooing sound, sweet andalmost musical. It was alullaby sound, designed tosoothe.Now thegirl laughedopenly.

The bird’s head cockedtoward the sound of herlaughter. It staredatherwithwide, curious eyes, anewborn exploring a newworld. The girl told herselfshe should be afraid, but shecouldn’t manage the feeling.Whenthephoenixtookastepforward, neither the boy northegirlbackedaway.Justtheopposite.Thegirl had awild

urge to rush forward andthrow her arms around thebird’sneck.

But then doubt sunk in.She was spirit. How couldshetouchit?Shecouldtouchthe boy, yes, but he wasspirit, too. The phoenix wasreal.Andyet,whenitreachedthem,itstretchedoutitslongneck, bringing its head closeto hers. The girl gave into

desire and raised her hand,running her palm over thebird’shead.Her fingersweresolid against it, and shestroked its warm, silkenfeathers.The lightness in herheart suddenly grew lighterstill,untilshealmostcouldn’tbearit.

The boy reached out andtouched the phoenix as well.It permitted the touch,

standing perfectly still. Butonly for a moment. Then itraised its head and breathedout, making that cooingsound again. It spread itswings and launched into theair. It was even morebeautiful in flight. The girlopenly cried now. The boypulled her close, kissing thetopofherhead.

She turned toward him as

the phoenix soared abovethem, its golden wingslighting the darkness likeflames. Her lips found his,but themoment they toucheda force began to pull themapart. The girl tensed, fearreachingheratlast.

“Don’t go,” the boy said.He felt the pull, too. Theywere being drawn back totheir physical bodies still

lyingon thealtar. Itwas likeascendingoutofadream.Buttowhat?

“Iloveyou,”theboysaid.“Forever,”thegirlreplied,

and then the two spiritsdisappeared, vanishing backinto the vessels where theybelonged.

31

TheAfter

Sunshine warmed my face,

my eyelids awash in goldenlight. I was pleasantly hot, aheatthatspreadovermybodylike a blanket. A breezeteased across my skin, andstrangesoundsfilledmyears.I spent several momentstrying to identify them—flowing water, rustlingleaves,chirpingbirds.

Wasthisheaven?I didn’t want to openmy

eyes. I was dead. Iremembereddying,thewayitfelt to have my bodysurrender, all my vitalprocesses giving out. OnemomentIwashere,alive,andthe next I was just gone. Itwasassimpleasalightgoingout. On then off. Light thendark.Herethennothere.

Only … I hadn’t beencompletely gone, had I? I

remembered Eli and mestandingsidebyside,handinhand, as we watched theblack phoenix resurrect. No,as we watched the blackphoenix reborn intosomething new—the goldenphoenix. Then again, maybethat had been myimagination.

“Dusty, are you awake?”The voice didn’t startle me.

Instead itwasacaress tomyears.Eli. I would know himanywhere. Definitely heaventhen.Ormorethanheaven.Itwas paradise, a dream cometrue.

Iopenedmyeyesandsawhimpeeringdownatme,blueeyes aglow in the sunshine.Hewassittingon thegroundnext to me. I sucked in abreath.“Arewedead?”

He laughed, but wincedright away, clutching hischest. “Not dead. I’m prettysure Iwouldn’t hurt this badifwewere.”

I sat up, the pleasantwarmth switching to cold sofastIshivered.Istartedtoaskif he was okay, but it cameout as a gasp. A fierce achethrobbed through my entirebody. Both of my shoulders

feltliketheywereonfire.“Areyouokay?”Eli said,

touchingmyarm.I shook my head. “I feel

like I’ve been run over by atruck.”

“I know the feeling. Buttake it easy. You’ve beenthroughalot.Webothhave.”

I looked up at him,ignoring the pain. “So we’rereallynotdead?”

Eli didn’t laugh this time,andhekeptahandpressedtohis chest. He was wearing agreen tunic and loose-fittingbrownpants. It looked like across between a medievalHalloween costume and ahospitalrobe.“Notanymore.”Not anymore. So we had

been. Dead. Memories creptinto my mind—of the fightwithDeverellandMarrow,of

PaulandElidying,andofmeusing the Death’s Heart onEli. No, that wasn’t right. Iused it on myself. Bellanaxhad shown me how. Thesword’s absence gnawed atme. It was like knowingyou’ve forgotten somethingimportantbutbeingunabletoremember what it was otherthanthatitwasimportant.

The memories were too

muchtothinkabout.Iturnedaway fromEli, taking in oursurroundings. We might notbe dead, but this place didindeedlooklikeheaven,oratleastheavenasIwantedit tobe. We were in a gladehemmed by woods on oneside and a stream on theother. Grass as green asAstroTurf and dotted withcartoon-bright wildflowers

filled the glade, wrappingaroundancienttreesthewidthof cars and stretching alongthe bankwith its short, steepdrop-offintothewater.

IturnedbacktoEli.“Thisisn’tadream,isit?”

“No.” Then to prove thepoint, he took my hand andsqueezed.My skin tingled athistouch.“Thisisfairyland.”

“Excuseme?”

He grinned. “It’s anotherworld, a realm fornaturekindonly.”

I arched an eyebrow athim. I’d heard aboutotherworldsandfairyrealms,like Mag Mell and Avalon,thelegendaryrestingplaceofKing Arthur. I knew enoughabout them toknow that twopeople like us—human andNightmare—weren’t

permittedtobehere.“Howisthatpossible?”

“Well,” Eli said, crackinghis knuckles, “when thenaturekindsenatorsfoundoutwe defeated Marrow, theyinsistedonsendingusheretorecover from our ordeal.There’s healing magic here,apparently.”

I droppedmy gaze to hischest, the worst of the

memoriescomingbacktome—Eli with two feet of steelsheathed inhis ribcage.“Doyou…isit…isitbad?”

Heshrugged,althoughthegesturewasn’tascasualas itmight have been. I could tellhe was being cautious witheach movement. “It’s notpretty, but I survived, andthat’swhatmatters.”

Inodded,swallowingback

tears.“I’msorry,Eli.”“What?” He grabbed my

shoulders.“Areyoukidding?It’snotyourfault.Youdidn’tknow itwasme,Dusty.Andthen after.” He hesitated, hiseyes suddenly brighter thanbefore, and glistening withunshed tears. “What you didwith the Death’s Heart—yousavedmylife,andyoualmostdieddoingit.Youdiddie,but

the phoenix brought youback. At least, that’s whatLady Elaine thinkshappened.”

“Thatwasreal?”Myheartfluttered in my chest,remembering what it hadbeenliketoseeit.

“Yes,itwasreal.Itseemsthat when Marrow and theblack phoenix died at thesame time, the familiar bond

broke. Marrow stayed deadthistime,butthephoenixwasreborn back into its naturalstate, before Marrowcorruptedit.Ithink…Ithinkwefreedit.”

I didn’t reply, my chestwas too tight with emotionsforspeaking.Butinmyheart,IknewEliwasright.Wehadfreed it.Howmanyhundredsofyearshadthephoenixbeen

chained to Marrow? Howlong had it been polluted byhis constant, unnaturalresurrections, his obsessionwithpower? In someways ithad suffered more thananyoneelse.

But the idea that Marrowwasreallytrulydead,thatthethreat of him was over forgoodwasalmostmore thanIcouldwrapmymind around.

Myreliefwasn’tasgreatasitshould’ve been. Maybe intime.

“WhataboutPaul?”Isaid,myvoicequiet.

Eli looked away. “Hedidn’tmakeit.”

Inodded,alreadyguessingasmuch. The truth cut deep,and I pushed it away. FornowIwantedtofocusonthegood—Eli and I being here

together,alive.Andhedidn’thatemeorevenblamemeforwhathappened.

I leaned toward him andkissed him. He wrapped hisarmsaroundmyback,pullingmecloser.Isavoredthetasteof him, but only for amoment. My heart began toache as I realized thiscouldn’t last. We couldn’tkeepdoing this.Marrowwas

dead, but there was still thedream-seer curse. Thephoenix was free, but weweren’t.

“Areyoutwosupposedtobedoingthat?”

EliandIbrokeapartatthesound of the intruder. Lanceand Selene had just emergedfromthetreesacrossfromus,walking hand in hand.Selene’s wings were visible,

the left one bound in whitebandages.Whenhergazemetmine,sherushedforward.

“You’re awake!” she saidwith a very un-Selene-likeshriek of glee. She droppeddown beside me and threwherarmsaroundmyneck.

I laughed, hugging herback, despite how much mybody hurt at the gesture.“How long have I been

asleep?”“Ayear.”The laughter died on my

lips.“What?”“I’m kidding,” Selene

said, her expression impish.“It’sjustbeentwodays,butitfeels like a year. Time runsweirdinthisplace.”

“Yeah, but the scenery islike wow,” Lance said,ploppingdownbesideus.

Isnorted.“You?Enjoyingthescenery?”

Heshrugged.“There’snotmuch else to do. Besideskissing,ofcourse.”

Selenegiggled.“But what are you two

doinghere?”Isaid.“Same thing as you,”

Selene replied. “Recovering.Every morning the fairykindsendus to a different area to

hang out. They claim all thenaturearoundherespeedsuphealing.They’ve been takingyou out of the castle everyday and have you lie in thegrassandstuff.Goodthingitneverrains.”

Itwas so strange to thinkof my body going placeswithoutmebeingawareofit.But I had no memory ofanything beyond using the

Death’s Heart. Watching thephoenixbeingrebornhadfeltmore like a dream thananythingreal.

“But your wing,” I said,shaking the weirdness off.“Areyougoingtobeokay?”

“Yep, I should be flyingagaininnotime.”Sheflexedthegoodoneinemphasis,theblack feathers glistening likeoil.

I beamed at her, relievedbythisnews.“ButwhataboutmymomandMr.Corvus?”

“Allfine,”saidEli.“Your mom is here with

us,” Selene added. “Sheneeded the healing, and sheinsistedoncoming,besides.Ithink she was afraid youweren’tgoingtowakeup.”

I couldn’t blame her forthat. Not after Lyonshold.

That time I’d beenunconscious for weeks. Twodays was a hugeimprovement, although theacheinmybodydisagreed.

“Actually,” Selene said,standingup.“I’dbettergogether. She’s liable to hurt mefor not telling her you’reawakerightaway.”

“Wecansave thehurt forlater,”anewcomersaid.

We all turned toward thevoice, and I saw my momemerging from the woodsnow,followingthesamepathSelene and Lance had. Shelooked good, or at leastbetter. The ashen paleness inherskinhadbeenreplacedbyalighttan,andonlyashadowof bruising remained beneathher eyes. Still, I barelyrecognized her. She wasn’t

dressed in one of her usualsnazzy outfits, the kind thatbelonged in a fashionmagazine for youngprofessionals, but in a silkengown with a scoop bodiceand long, drooping sleeves.She lookedmore likeNimuethanMoiraEverhart.Isortoflikedit.

“Stand up, Destiny,” mymom said, striding over to

me. “Prove to me you’rereallyonthemend.”

I frowned up at her. Icouldn’tseehowstandingupproved anything more thantalking and sitting here. ButthenItriedtogetupandsawher point.Mymuscles didn’twant to obey. Gritting myteeth, I pushed through it,finally managing a verticalposition.

My mom wasn’t fooled.She folded her arms acrossherchest.“Well,alivebutnotbetteryet.”

Iflinchedatheranger,notunderstandingit.

Shepointedafingeratme.“I’m only going to say thisonce, but if you ever dosomething like that again,I’ll…I’ll…”

“Killme?”Ioffered.

She scowled. “That’s notfunny,althoughit’sarelieftoseeyour inappropriatehumorremains intact. But if youevertrythatagain,I’llgroundyou for the rest of your life.And trust me. I will ensurethatitisaverylonglife.Fullofabsolutelyzerodanger.”

She still sounded angry,but I saw the brokennessbeneathherexpression.

“I’msorry,Mom.”Her anger vanished, and

she swept forward, huggingme hard enough that Igroaned.“Iloveyou,Dusty,”shewhisperedagainstmyear.“AndI’mproudofyou.”

“Iloveyou,too.”

***

We spent another three daysinthefairyrealm.Iaskedmy

fairykind chaperones severaltimesiftheplacehadaname,butnonewerewillingtosay.I had a feeling that theywantedtokeepitsecretfromoutsiders like us. We mightbe welcome at the moment,but it was a temporaryhospitality.

I spent most of my timewalking the grounds outsidethe castle and exploring the

woodswithEli.Iavoidedthebedroom I’d been given forthe duration of my stay asmuchaspossible.Thereweretoo many mirrors in there,and I couldn’t quite stomachmyappearancethesedays.I’dsurvived the ordeal withMarrow and the Death’sHeart, but it hadn’t beenwithoutaprice.

I had aged, as if the

Death’s Heart had quiteliterallysuckedawayyearsofmy life. I didn’t look oldexactly, but certainly not asyoung as before. Faint whitehairs now streaked throughthe red. It wasn’t anything avisittothesalonwouldn’tfix—my mom had alreadyvolunteered to take me—butthere was no disguising thechanges inmy face. I looked

thinner, gaunt almost, but Ihadn’t lost any weight. Infact, I was eating more thanever before. This fairy realmencouraged indulgence ofeverykind.Although I neverate the fairy food. Normalfood was being imported forusdaily.

But the damage wentdeeper than my looks. Noneofthemagickinddoctorswho

came to examine me couldsayhowbad itwas,but theysuspected that my organs,joints, and vital systemsmight have suffered partialdegradation.

“Butdon’t fret,mydear,”one of the doctors said. “It’snothing too severe, I’m sure.Nothing worse than whathappenstousallasweage.”

I hadn’t replied. The

“effects of old age” wasn’tsomething that should’vebeen inmyvocabulary foratleast another decade or two.There was nothing to sayabout it though, nothing tomake it better. Not that Iregretted the price. Eli wasalive and that was worth ahundred years of my life.Besides, the only time Inoticed the changes in my

bodywas if I sat too long inone position or if I exertedmyself too hard. If I did, aweaknesscameoverme,andI had to sit down until itpassed.

Eli wasn’t much betterwith his injury. The stabwound was healing quickly,thanks to the fairy realmmagic,buthewouldneverbethe same physically again,

according to the doctors.Hishopes of being on thegladiator teamwereover, forthis year definitely. Evenonce he recovered, he mightnot be capable of thedemanding activity. Onlytimewouldtell.

But Eli never oncecomplained. Instead, one dayhesatdownbesidemeafteralong walk, both of us

breathing too hard from theexertion.Hewrappedhisarmaround my shoulder andpulled me close. “We mightbealittlebrokenthesedays,”hesaid,“butIwouldn’ttradeitforanything.”

My heart throbbed insidemy chest, the feeling of bothjoyandpain. Ididn’tknowIwas capable of loving oneperson this much, as if my

insides were bigger than myoutsides, love an expansiveforce.Itmadethetruthofourpending separation all theworse. But it had to happen.Once our stay herewas overand we returned to the realworld and our real lives, wewould have to put an end tothis. The risk of stayingtogether was too great. Inever wanted to be there

again—watching Eli die,living one of Lady Elaine’svisions. I understood thatnow.

Eli did, too, although weneverspokeofit.

Therewereotherthingstotalk about. My mother cameto us on the third day withnews that the Magi Senatewas planning an awardsceremonyinourhonor.

“No way,” Eli and I saidtogether.

My mom sighed. “I toldLady Elaine you weren’tgoingtolikeit.”

I hated the idea. We’dbeen through one of thoseceremonieslastyearwhenwesaved Lyonshold fromsinking. I understood whythey wanted to do it, but itdidn’t feel right this time.

There’dbeentoomuchdeath,too much loss. I just wantedtoputitallbehindme.

“Can’t we just say nothen?” Eli said, rubbing hisjaw.

Momputherhandsonherhips. “I’m afraid not. Wehavetogivethemsomething.This is too momentous aneventfortherenottobesomekindofofficialclosure.”

I bitmy lip. Itwasn’t theresponseIwould’veexpectedfrommymom, the queen ofbucking the establishment.Butthatjustdrovehomehowserious the situation was.Closure. I supposed Ineededit,too.

“WhataboutPaul?”Isaid.Mymomturnedtolookat

me, her mouth a thin line.“Whatabouthim?”

“Hashebeenburiedyet?”The words felt alien in mymouth, an impossiblelanguage with impossiblemeaning. I’d seen him die,but I couldn’t accept it. Hemight come walking aroundthecorneranymoment.

“I don’t think so,” mymom replied, a suspiciouseyebrow climbing herforehead.

I drew a deep breath.“Then let the Magi Senatehold their ceremony at hisfuneral.” I glanced at Eli,trying to gauge his reaction.He met my eyes, and I readunderstanding in his, if notagreement.

I turned to my mother,who needed the mostconvincing. “Paul deservesthehonorasmuchastherest

of us, if not more. He diedstopping Marrow. Hesacrificedhimselftosaveus.”

“Yes,”mymom said, hervoice surprisingly gentle,“but he betrayed you first. Ifhe hadn’t have been helpingDeverellhemight—”

Icutheroff.“Thatdoesn’tmatter. All that does is whathe did in the end.” I paused,waiting formymom andEli

tomake their arguments, butmyheartwassetonthis.Paulhaddonea lotofbad things,buthechosegoodintheend.

When neither of themspoke,Ipressedon.“Withhisuncle dead and his motherwho knows where and hisfather who knows who, it’suptoustoseehehasapropersend-off.”

My mom’s jaw worked

back and forth, for a second.Thensherelaxed.“I’lltalktoLadyElaineandseewhatwecando.”

“Thank you,” I said. Thedecisioneasedtheacheinmyheart,justalittle.Do you believe in

redemption? I rememberedPaul askingme. I hadn’t hadan answer then, but I didnow.

Yes, I thought, hopingPaul would hear it whereverhe was now. He had earnedhisredemption.

32

Dream’sEnd

It took a while, and a great

deal of cajoling according tomy mother, but the MagiSenate finally agreed to theplan. Paul was set to beburied in his family’smausoleum in ColevilleCemetery, located on thenorthsideofArkwell.

Eli, Selene, Lance, and Iarrived back at campus thedaybefore.We’dbeenplacedunder sleeping spells for the

journey back to the humanworld.Ihadnoideahowthatjourney worked, but Isuspected it involved boats.There’d been severalmooredat the dock by the river thatran in front of the castle. Ididn’t ask for confirmationthough. After all of Eli’sdreams with the funeralbarge,Ididn’twanttoknow.

SeleneandIspentthenext

twenty-fourhoursconfinedtoour dorm room by choice.Reporters of all types andshades had infested Arkwelllike so many rats—everyoneeagertognawatuswiththeirquestions.Ididn’tunderstandwhy the school had allowedthem on campus in the firstplace. Even worse was theseparationfromEli,butItoldmyselfitwasforthebest.We

bothneededtogetusedtothedistance.

The funeral started atsunset the next day. Seleneand ImetupwithLanceandEli, and we walked toColeville escorted by a troopof police officers. Thereporters hurled questions atus the entire way, but allexcept a select few werebarred from entering the

cemetery.Eli took my hand as we

steppedinside.Asalways,theheavy scent of flowers filledthe air.Colevillewaskept inbloomyear-roundbythefairygardeners. I’d never beforeappreciated it as much as Idid now. It reminded me ofthe fairy realm. I wished wecould go back—Eli and me,spending therestofour lives

there. Surely, the cursewouldn’t be able to touch usinsuchamagicalplace.

But it was wishfuldreaming.

The entire school hadturned out for the funeral, itseemed,alongwiththeentireMagi Senate and theirentourage. Magickind filledeveryinchoftheareaaroundthe Kirkwood’s mausoleum.

Therewerepeopleleaningongravestones, standing in theflowerbeds.Severalhadevenclimbed trees to get a betterview.

We were escorted to thefrontwherethecoffinsatjustbefore the door into themausoleum. The moment Ispotted it, the tears I’d beenholding back broke. I didn’ttrytostopthem.Eliwrapped

hisarmaroundme,his silentsupport all the comfort Ineeded.

Chairs had been providedfor the honored guests, andwe took ours right up front.To my surprise Lance’sfather, Senator Rathbone,appearedon theothersideofLance. Iwatched as his gazetook in Selene sitting besidehis son.Herwingswere still

out, although some of thebandages had been removedfromtheleftone.Hestaredather for several long seconds.She raised her head andmethis stare head-on,unflinching. Lance washoldingherhandwithbothofhis,knuckleswhite.

Finally, Mr. Rathbonesighed and stretched out hishand to Selene. “I want to

thankyouforwhatyoudidinstopping thatmonster.And Icouldn’t be prouder of myson’s wise choice ofgirlfriend.”

Selene’s jaw cameunhinged for half a second.Thensherecoveredandstoodup, accepting his handshake.“Thank you,” she said, verystiffandformal.

Mr.Rathbonenoddedthen

let go of her hand and tookthe seat next to his son. Iexchanged a quick glancewith Selene. It had been avery diplomatic statement,the kind to save face in apublicarena,butevenafalsegesture might become truewithenoughpractice.Asmileghostedtheedgesofherlips,and her eyes sparkled. Isqueezedherhand,happyfor

her.But the good feeling

didn’t last long. SadnesspresseddownonmeasLadyElainestooduptoofficiate.Itwas a solemn affair, nomusic, no pomp. ConsulBorgman gave a speech,thankingPaul forhisservice,as well as the rest of us.Every pair of eyes in theplace turned toward Eli,

Selene, and me when shepointed us out. I hated thescrutiny,wanting tokeepmydespair private. Fortunately,Borgman soon turned herattention to my mother andMr. Corvus, giving theassembled a cleaned-upversion of the events in thedragon caves, as well asexonerating my mother foranywrongdoing.

I wept again as LadyElainedeliveredtheeulogy.Iwept both for Paul’s deathand the tragedy of his life.His pretender of a motherhadn’t bothered to come toher own son’s funeral. ItseemedIwastheonlypersontotrulymournhim.

When the ceremonyended,thefourMagiSenatorswho’d volunteered to be

pallbearersstoodupandtooktheirplacesaroundthecoffin.As they hoisted it up andcarriedit intothemausoleumIrealizedthatPaulhadfinallygottenhiswish.Hewasfree.Thethoughtmight’veseemedglib,but itwasn’t tome.NotafterwhatI’dbeenthrough.Iknewbeyonddoubtthatdeathwasn’t the end. Paul wouldfind freedom on the other

side.Afterward, Eli and I

escapeddeeperintoColeville,dodging the Magi Senatorsandtherestlookingtoplyuswith questions. It wassurprisingly easy todisappear.

“Do you remember thatthis was the first dream weevershared,righthereinthiscemetery,” I said as we

walkedalong.A sad smile crossed Eli’s

lips. “Of course I remember.I’llneverforgetit.”

Myheartdidaslowsteadythump againstmy chest. Theend was coming. It wasalmost here. I supposed thisfirst dreaming place was afittingsightfortheendofourrelationship.

Eli came to a halt and

facedme.“Dusty,”hebegan.Iraisedafingertohislips,

silencing him. “We don’tneed to say it out loud. Justsayitwithakiss.”

Something broke in Eli’sexpression, and when hereachedforme,hediditwithboth hands cuppingmy face,holding me like somethingfragile that he desperatelywanted to hold on to but

didn’t want to shatter. Hislips captured mine with aferocity that said he wasnever lettinggo,even thoughhewas.

Thekisslastedaneternity,evenasitendedalltoosoon.

A strange noise broke usapartsometimelater.Webothturned to see we weren’talone anymore. Lady Elaineand Mr. Corvus were

standingafewfeetaway.Isighed.“Youdon’thave

to lecture us.We know, andwewill.”

“Willwhat?”LadyElainesaid, folding her broomstick-thin arms over her narrowchest.

I scowled at her, hatingthatshewasmakingmesayitaloud.“Wewon’tbetogetheranymore.”

Lady Elaine pursed herlips.“ItjustsohappensthatiswhatI’mheretotalkabout.”

“I mean it. It’s really notnec—”

She raised a hand,silencing me. “I don’t knowhow or why, but my visionaboutthetwoofyouandyourfutureisgone.”

Ifrowned.“Gonehow?”LadyElainedrummedher

fingersagainstherarm.“Justgone. There is no visionaboutyouanymore.I’vetriedscryingaboutitoverandoveragaintheselastfewdays,butthere’snothing.”

“What does that mean?”Elisaid.Heslidhishandintomine, intertwining ourfingers.

“I’mnotentirelysure,Mr.Booker,” she said, and it

seemedtomethattherewasatwinkle inher eyes. “Butmyguess is that the dream-seercursehasbeenbroken.”

Atrembleslidthroughmybody, and I sagged into Eli.That couldn’t be right.Dreams didn’t come true inreallife.Notlikethis.

“Idon’tknowifitwastheself-sacrifice,” Lady Elainecontinued, far toononchalant

than the subject warranted,“or if itwas thework of thephoenix, but the curse is nomore.Asfarasmysightcantell, you two are free to behoweveryouwant.”

I froze, unable to move,unabletoreactatall.ButnotEli. He turned me towardhim, hands onmy shoulders,and kissedme once again. Itwasn’t a chaste kiss either.

But we didn’t care. Our joycouldn’tbeheldbackbysuchtrivial things as appropriatepublic displays of affection.Not breaking the kiss, Elidroppedhishandstomyarmsandhoistedme into theair. Iwrapped my legs around hiswaist. I was both laughingandcryingatthesametime.

LadyElaineletitgoonfarlonger than I would’ve

guessed, but eventually shesaid,“That’senoughyoutwo.I might have given you myblessing about the curse, butthisisstillschool.”

Eli setme down, his grinsowidehisfaceseemedtobealllipsandteeth.

“Well now that you’vegotten that out of yoursystem,”Mr. Corvus said, “Ihave more good news. At

least, I believe you’ll behappyaboutit,Dusty.”

I faced him, barelylistening. There couldn’t beanythingbetterthanthenewsLady Elaine had just givenus.

But I was almost wrongabout that. Mr. Corvus slidhis hand into his pocket andwithdrew a silver bracelet. Igaped, my heart now

flutteringinmychest.“Is that…” I began, but

thewordsdied inmymouth.Corvus had removed theglamour, revealing the swordbeneath. It was Bellanax,wholeoncemore.

“Not everything aboutswordlorehasbeenlost,”Mr.Corvus said, and he held theswordouttome.

Ihesitated,glancingatEli.

“Are you okay with this?”The sword had been themeansofhisdeath,afterall.

He smiled, the expressiongenuine. “Of course. Thatswordsavedus,didn’tit?”And he knows its name

now,Iremembered.Inodded.Bellanax had saved us. Butthe sword had been broken.Was the spirit still there orwasitjustasword?

Bracing myself for theworst, I took the sword fromCorvus.Atfirst,Ifeltnothingbutthehard,slickboneofthehilt against my skin.Disappointment set in atonce,adespairnearlyasdeepaswhatIfeltforPaul.

But then the hilt began towarm in my hand. Bellanaxslowly stirred to life. Thesword seemed to purr inside

my mind, the feeling one ofwelcome and relief. It hadmissedme, and I hadmissedit.

Swallowing the emotionsrising up my throat, I fixedmy eyes on Mr. Corvus.“Thankyou.”

He bowed his head, andforthefirsttimeInoticedtheBorromeanringonhisfinger.“You’rewelcome. Itwas the

leastIcoulddo.YoustoppedMarrow and you helped mebringjusticetomybrothers.Iwould give you theworld toshowmygratitudeifIcould.”

Forthefirsttimeever,thereality ofMarrow’s death hitme. It was like a massiveweight being pulled off mysoul. I felt so light I half-expectedmyfeettoleavetheground. It was over. Truly

over.I applied the glamour to

Bellanax and then slid thesilver bracelet ontomywristwhere it belonged. Where itwould always stay, for aslongasIlived.

“Come on then,” LadyElaine said, flashing a quicksmile at Mr. Corvus. “Let’sleavethesetwoalone.”Leave us alone. Three

words had never been morebeautiful.

And they made good onthe statement, walking awayfromusandnotlookingbackonce.

Elikissedmeagain.Itwasshorter this time, but no lesssweet. “I think I’m going tohave to do that about onceeveryfiveminutes.Thatokaywithyou?”

I laughed. “I don’t know.Five minutes seems like anawfullylongtime.”

Hegrinned,andthetwoofusstartedwalkingagain.

“I wonder what ourdreamswillbelikenow,”Elisaid after a few moments ofsilence.

“Better than they’ve everbeen?”Iventured.

“Oh, that’s a given, but

there will still be trouble,sooner or later. I mean, wearestillthedream-seers.”

“I suppose so.” I paused.“AndMarrowisgone,buthestill has supporters out there.Someinthesenateeven.”

Elinodded.“Is it weird that I’m kind

ofglad?Imean,allthedeathand destruction aside, themystery-solving,herostuff is

prettyfun.”Now it was Eli’s turn to

laugh.Hestoppedandkissedme again. “I wouldn’t wantyou any other way. That’swhywe’retheDreamTeam.”The Dream Team come

true, I thought. But I didn’tsay it aloud. There was noneed. We walked on,exploring new paths as wewent, heading deeper and

deeper into the cemetery.With Bellanax on my wristandElibymyside,Irealizedthe real world had nowbecome the dream. And Iwantedtostayinitforever.

AbouttheAuthor

Mindee Arnett lives on a

horse farm in Ohio with herhusband, two kids, a coupleofdogs,andan inappropriatenumber of cats. She’saddicted to jumping horsesandtellingtalesofmagicandthemacabre.Hershortstorieshave appeared in variousmagazines, and she has amaster of arts in Englishliteraturewithanemphasisincreative writing. She also

blogsand tweets, and ishardatwork on her next novel intheArkwellAcademy series.Find her online atwww.mindeearnett.com orsign up for email updateshere.

TorTeenBooksbyMindeeArnett

TheNightmareAffair

TheNightmareDilemma

TheNightmareCharade

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Contents

TitlePageCopyrightNotice

Dedication

Acknowledgments

1.LastKiss2.AnimusMortem

3.DeathBecomesYou4.Nondisclosure

5.InvoluntarySeparation6.NewLeads7.GuiltTrap8.ItBites

9.Motives10.StrangerwithYourFace

11.BadLuck12.TheOtherNightmare

13.CellBlockB14.Doppelgänger

15.Alibis16.HereBeDragons17.GrowingPains18.Breakthroughs

19.ProceedwithCaution20.ThreeVisions21.SwordDreams22.HolyPlaces23.Tryouts

24.HiddenTarget25.Traps

26.TheShape-Changer27.WillofItsOwn28.TheCurse

29.TheFallen30.DeathLikeSleep

31.TheAfter32.Dream’sEnd

AbouttheAuthorTorTeenBooksbyMindee

ArnettCopyright

Thisisaworkoffiction.Allofthecharacters,organizations,andeventsportrayedinthisnovelareeitherproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.

THENIGHTMARECHARADE

Copyright©2015byMindeeArnett

Allrightsreserved.

CoverartbyKateForrester

ATorTeenBookPublishedbyTomDohertyAssociates,LLC175FifthAvenueNewYork,NY10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor®isaregisteredtrademarkofTomDohertyAssociates,LLC.

eBooksmaybepurchasedforbusinessorpromotionaluse.Forinformationonbulkpurchases,pleasecontactMacmillanCorporateandPremiumSalesDepartmentbywritingtoMacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

TheLibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.

ISBN978-0-7653-3335-3(hardcover)ISBN978-1-4668-0070-0(e-book)

e-ISBN9781466800700

FirstEdition:August2015