A nameless, faceless haunt—the voice familiar but impossible to place.
And the monster fixated. Roaring over and over and over.
Sophie, please—stop!
And for a fraction of a second, her thoughts flickered to a pair of terrified green eyes.
Recognition hit.
But she wasn’t alone anymore. There were new voices—stronger than the ghosts.
Calling her name.
She lunged toward the sound and the sound lunged for her—and when they met, the shadows crumbled, burying the monster as she kicked free and crawled up and out.
Back to the light.
Not caring that her head was pounding and her hand was aching or that something strong and heavy was holding her down.
Because two silver-flecked eyes were staring into hers, filled with such horror and anguish it stole the air from her lungs.
“What happened?” Tam whispered, reaching a shaky hand up to tug on his sweat-soaked bangs. Linh tightened her grip on his shoulders, but it didn’t ease his trembling. “One second you were there. And then you just . . . weren’t. And I didn’t know how to wake you up.”
She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“But what happened?” Tam repeated. “What did I do wrong?”
She shook her head, wincing from the headache. “It wasn’t you. I had the same nightmare before.”
And that’s all it was, she told herself.
Just a nightmare.
Not even the scariest one she’d ever had.
But Magnate Leto said, “That was more than a nightmare.”
And she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
Edaline did it for her. “What was it?”
He turned, staring at the shimmering walls and trailing a hand over his greasy hair. “I have no idea.”
Definitely not what Sophie wanted to hear.
The weight pinning her shoulders lifted, and Elwin stepped from behind her, snapping his fingers and forming a strange sphere of light around her whole body—thicker than the others, layered with rings of every color.
And he did not look happy.
“I’m sorry,” Tam mumbled, pulling away from Linh and stalking to the corner of the room, hiding in the shadows. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“It wasn’t you,” Sophie repeated, forcing herself to stay calm. “It was the thrashing, right?” she asked Elwin. “I set my recovery back again?”
She really needed that to be the reason.
But Elwin pulled his glasses off, cleaning the lenses on his tunic before squinting at her again. “You didn’t thrash. I pinned you as soon as I saw you move. So everything should be the same. But . . . your progress has regressed. Not as much as last time—but there shouldn’t be any change. And I’m assuming you have another headache? And more pain in your hand?”
She forced herself to nod. “I take it that means you still can’t see it with your glasses?”
“Of course he can’t,” Lady Zillah jumped in. “The pain isn’t real. It’s just an echo.”
“Uh, it feels pretty real,” Sophie argued.
“And it responds to medicine,” Edaline added.
“Right—sorry.” Elwin scrambled to hand her another vial of the same elixir she’d taken earlier.
He also placed a fresh silver cloth over her forehead, and Sophie closed her eyes, trying to focus on how quickly both remedies made a difference.
Whatever this was couldn’t be that big of a deal. Not if Elwin could fix it that quickly.
“May I try something?” Lady Zillah asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Edaline told her.
“I understand your concern. But I’m not going anywhere near your daughter’s mind. Only her hand—and the echoes don’t respond to me anyway. I just want to see what my shadow can sense. She won’t feel a thing.”
“If anything starts to happen . . . ,” Edaline warned.
“It won’t. But if it does, I’ll stop.”
“I still don’t think—”
“It’s fine,” Sophie interrupted, meeting Edaline’s eyes. “I’m fine.”
She needed the words to be true.
And Lady Zillah seemed to be the only one who had any idea what might be happening. So Sophie held still as a shadow crawled down her arm and sank into her bandages.
She waited for chills or tingles—or worse things she didn’t want to imagine. But Lady Zillah was right.
Nothing happened.
Seconds dragged by, and Magnate Leto must’ve been feeling just as restless, because he used the time to transmit, I saw your nightmare.
“That was not my doing,” Lady Zillah informed Edaline when Sophie jumped.
“It was mine,” Sophie agreed. “Sorry.”
She took a steadying breath before she transmitted back, I thought you said it wasn’t a nightmare.
I said it was MORE than a nightmare. And it was. Your subconscious wasn’t in control in that moment. I couldn’t see what took over, but it almost felt like your memories were under attack.
His description was close enough to the truth that Sophie had to ask, You couldn’t see the monster?
Monster?
It sounded so ridiculous when he said it.
Never mind. Forget I—
No, Sophie. Tell me about the monster.
She was too tired to argue. And honestly? It felt good to say it. Like she was grabbing some small bit of control.
So . . . I’m guessing you think I’m losing my mind, she said when she’d finished.
She shaped the words into a tease. Masking the fear tangled around them.
Hiding the nagging worry that wondered if this time the Neverseen really had broken her.
No, Magnate Leto said with the kind of absolute conviction that made her meet his gaze. That’s not madness, Sophie. That’s your subconscious trying to make sense of the echoes—assigning a word to what you’re experiencing to help you wrap your head around it. But the monster isn’t real.
Really?
She’d known that, of course—but it felt so, so good to hear it.
Tell me this: Can you actually see the monster? Can you describe what it looks like?
She couldn’t.
It had no shape. No detail.
That’s what I thought. It’s a monster by name alone.
I don’t understand what that means.
It means it’s a monster because you say it’s a monster, and that’s how your brain is choosing to understand it. But in reality, it’s simply an echo of whatever trauma the shadowflux caused.
Well . . .
That almost made sense.
Assuming we can trust Lady Zillah about this shadowflux stuff, she reminded him. You’ve really never heard of it?
I haven’t. But I have heard claims that certain Shades have access to a greater reserve of power. And truthfully, I don’t know as much about the ability as I should. Once I ruled it out for Project Moonlark, I stopped researching it.
Why did you rule it out?
Not for the reason you’re fearing. As someone whose entire life has been shaped by the ridiculous prejudices of our world, I do my best to resist their influence. We were simply trying to pick abilities that brought something unique to your skill set—and many of the feats that Shades accomplish are in a similar vein to your telepathy and inflicting. But if you should end up manifesting the ability as a natural result of your genetics—like you did with enhancing—I wouldn’t give it a moment’s pause.
Wait. I thought you knew what all of my abilities are.
Definitely not. I’ve mapped out your genetic code, but there’s plenty I’ve been unable to translate or predict. Like when you suddenly found yourself able to jump off cliffs and teleport.
That had been a pretty big surprise.
So . . . does that mean I might still manifest another ability?
He hesitated a second too long before he told her,
It’s hard to say.
That sounds like a yes.
At best, it’s a “maybe.” Most elves manifest before they turn fifteen, so you’re outside of that window. But . . . you’ve never been like most elves. You’ve also had your abilities reset—twice—
Twice? Sophie interrupted. When was the other time?
She only remembered the day she’d flown with Keefe and Silveny to one of the Black Swan’s hideouts and trusted their dangerous cure to fix her broken abilities. And given that she’d nearly died in the process—and had a small, star-shaped scar on her hand as a souvenir—she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have forgotten if it had happened another time.
Unless . . .
You said you saw my nightmares, she transmitted quietly. What . . . did you see?
Something we probably shouldn’t discuss with this large of an audience.
Which was confirmation enough.
And he was right. It definitely wasn’t the right time.
But that didn’t stop the terrified green eyes from filling her mind again.
Amy’s eyes.
The name alone made her shiver. But the real chills came from the blank space surrounding the memory.
Sophie knew what that space meant.
She’d been begging the Black Swan for years to tell her why she’d woken up in the hospital when she was nine years old with no memory of how she’d gotten there and no explanation, other than the doctor’s diagnosis of a severe reaction to some unknown allergen. And the whole thing had become much more mysterious after she discovered that she was allergic to limbium—an elvin substance, which she shouldn’t have had access to while living with humans. She’d also discovered that her sister had the same blank spot in her past, so whatever had happened had affected both of them.
And Magnate Leto’s slip now made it clear they’d given her limbium that day to reset her abilities.
But the rest of the memory was still missing, still stolen away—except for one piece.
One piece the monster unearthed from the darkest shadows of her mind. And in that tiny, fractured flashback, her sister had stared at her like she was the monster.
Screaming, Sophie, please—stop!
TWELVE
THIS IS NOT MY DOING either,” Lady Zillah assured everyone when Sophie’s headache spiked, sharp enough to make her gasp.
“How do you know?” Edaline demanded, gently massaging the back of Sophie’s neck—which helped a little. “You’re the only one trying anything right now.”
“I suspect that’s not true,” Lady Zillah said with a glance in Magnate Leto’s direction that would’ve made Sophie wonder how much she knew about who he was—if her brain didn’t currently feel like the gorgodon was chewing on it.
Lady Zillah’s strange eyes turned darker as she tilted her head to study her. “What were you thinking about just now?”
“A gorgodon eating my brain,” Sophie told her.
She knew it wasn’t the answer Lady Zillah wanted. But her head hurt and her hand hurt and everyone was staring at her like she was some fragile vase with a huge crack in the middle—and she was starting to worry that they were right.
And somehow it made her feel better being just a little bit difficult.
She wondered if that was Keefe’s motivation.
“Okay,” Lady Zillah said through a drawn-out sigh. “What about before the headache flared?”
“Why does it matter?” Sophie countered.
“Because I think I might understand what’s happening. But if you don’t feel like cooperating—”
Sophie sighed. “I was thinking about . . . one of my nightmares.”
“The same nightmare you had while Tam was attempting to quiet your echoes?” Lady Zillah clarified.
Sophie nodded—and even though she tried to block it, Amy’s voice screamed through her brain again, each word a fresh stab.
“Then it’s what I suspected,” Lady Zillah murmured. “The echoes have built a bridge between fear and pain.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Sophie asked.
“I’d hoped you would—but I suppose it is an abstract concept. And it’s possible I’m not choosing the best metaphor. But for now, let’s go with it.” She turned to pace, her white cape billowing behind her as she slowly crossed the Healing Center. “You were afraid during the attack, weren’t you? I’m sure we all would be. And the shadowflux fed on that fear. It also caused you a significant amount of pain as it carried out the orders it was given. So now, as far as the echoes are concerned, fear and pain are one and the same. And when something frightens you—like a nightmare—the echoes react and cause pain everywhere they touch. But it’s a different kind of pain. A shadow of the trauma you experienced. Which is why you can’t see it,” she told Elwin. “This pain is grounded in darkness. You’ve probably even noticed that it looks dimmer where the echoes reside.”
“Murkier,” Elwin agreed, placing a fresh silver cloth over Sophie’s forehead. “But I thought you said the pain wasn’t real.”
“I was wrong. It shouldn’t be real—and if the echoes were simply echoes, it wouldn’t be. But shadowflux can cause change. And in Sophie’s case, that change gives the echoes more power—enough to drag her fears to a place where they become actual physical pain. Maybe that’s a better metaphor. Not a bridge, but a bully, preying on her trauma.”
“Sounds a bit like a monster,” Magnate Leto noted, with a meaningful glance at Sophie. “But the question is: How do we tame it?”
Lady Zillah shook her head. “We don’t. I can do nothing. And the echoes resisted Tam’s attempts to soothe them.”
“And I’m not trying again,” Tam added from the shadows.
“You shouldn’t,” Lady Zillah agreed. “Not until you’ve overcome your own trepidation. The echoes won’t respond to someone timid—someone doubting themselves. They want someone confident. Relentless. The person who commanded the shadowflux.”
“But I didn’t command it!”
“You did. You showed it you were more determined, more resourceful than it could ever be, and it bent to your will in response. You must find that part of yourself again for the training we have ahead—and I’m not letting you back out of that, in case that’s what you’re thinking. If anything, the strength of these echoes proves how vital this power may someday be. There’s greatness in you, Tam. But it will never amount to anything unless you embrace it.”
Tam looked away.
Linh crossed the room to stand beside him, whispering something in his ear.
“Okay,” Edaline said, breaking the silence. “So . . . how do we fix this?”
“We wait for the echoes to fade,” Lady Zillah told her. “That’s all we can do.”
Something inside Sophie shriveled, and Edaline sounded just as deflated when she said, “And in the meantime, every nightmare’s going to cause Sophie pain and slow her recovery?”
“I doubt it will happen with every nightmare,” Lady Zillah said quietly. “But you’re right that she’ll need to be careful. She’ll need to focus on positive thoughts while she’s awake. And when it’s time to sleep, I’m sure Elwin has plenty of sedatives.”
And there it was.
Something that shouldn’t be a huge thing. It wasn’t like Sophie hadn’t occasionally taken sedatives over the last few years.
But . . . it felt like another victory for the Neverseen.
They might as well have been there, pressing a drugged cloth over her nose.
“We could try somnalene,” Edaline suggested. “That helped you after Oblivimyre.”
“Maybe,” Sophie mumbled.
Somehow she doubted the shimmering eye drops would keep the monster at bay.
“Is Fitz going to have this same problem?” Linh asked—and shame twisted Sophie’s insides.
She should’ve been the one to ask that question.
Should’ve been thinking about someone besides herself.
“His echo is weake
r,” Lady Zillah reminded them. “And it isn’t near his mind.”
“No, it’s near his heart,” Sophie argued.
“It is,” Lady Zillah agreed, moving to Fitz’s side and waving her hand over his chest. “I wish I could tell you how that’s going to affect him. But I truly don’t know. My best advice would be to keep him sedated until the echo fades.”
Elwin sighed. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“I’ll do some research on shadowflux as well,” Magnate Leto told them, which seemed to end the conversation.
The others were soon gone, and Sophie spent the rest of the afternoon focusing on one task at a time: letting Edaline help her bathe and change. Slurping down a bowl of bland broth. Chugging a dozen different elixirs, including the marrow regenerator Elwin had made for Sandor—which tasted like liquefied dead things mixed with rotten bananas.
She was on her second bottle of lushberry juice, still trying to wash the taste away, when Elwin set one more vial in her lap.
A hot pink elixir that Sophie remembered taking once before.
“You need happy dreams, right?” he asked. “You won’t get happier than that.”
She wouldn’t.
She’d be in for a long night of sparkles and rainbows and dancing animals.
“But it is a sedative,” Elwin added gently, “so if you’d rather not, we can try somnalene first.”
“No pressure,” Edaline added. “It’s your call.”
Sophie glanced at Fitz, still curled up peacefully with Mr. Snuggles nestled under his chin, totally oblivious to shadowflux and echoes.
And she thought about the monster.
And her sister’s panicked screams.
And all the other voices haunting her nightmares.
And she took the sedative.
THIRTEEN
WELL, I THINK IT’S SAFE to say that the Fitzphie slumber party is a total snoozefest,” Keefe said, plopping dramatically onto the empty cot next to Sophie. “And I mean that literally.”
He pointed across the room, to where Fitz was still curled up with Mr. Snuggles, looking far more peaceful than Sophie felt at the moment.
Ro was watching Fitz like a hawk, like she suspected him of eavesdropping again. But every time she poked his shoulder, Fitz let out a snuffly snore.
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 16
