Lies and Prophecy

by Marie Brennan

  I hadn’t thought of that, and a chill ran down my spine.

  “After I fell, what happened then?”

  Glancing at my bandaged hands, I shrugged. “Not much. I only held out for a moment more.” The wrappings drew my attention. My hands were better, but still ached, particularly after my room-cleaning flurry. “There was a scream … I reached into the fire.”

  My eyes flicked back upward. “I reached across and tried to grab hold of Julian. That’s when the scream happened. And the light flared, and I passed out.” I’d reached into the fire. No wonder my hands were burned.

  Robert sighed and leaned his head back again. “So that leaves us with nothing—except our gods-damned memories.”

  I knew what he meant. That golden light was engraved on my eyelids, a reminder of our folly. I wondered if it would ever go away.

  “This was not the same as before,” Robert whispered.

  Unthinking, I slid back, and half-fell into the chair’s depths. From my new vantage point, I frowned across at him. “What?”

  He managed to sit up, escaping his own little hole. “You felt it, did you not? Whatever took Julian before, it seems to have treated him kindly.”

  I almost disagreed, but swallowed the words before they left my mouth. Someone had erased the traces of his ritual, and returned his athame to his room. Julian had been thin when he returned, and he didn’t remember anything, but by all signs no serious harm had been done to him. I couldn’t see that happening this time. The malevolence I’d felt from the golden light had been all too clear.

  The golden light?

  The thought seemed to occur to Robert at the same moment. “What made it change?”

  With my eyes closed, I could see it again. The green mist, changing to gold. Or—“It didn’t change.”

  “Something else took over.”

  The pieces were falling into place. Sort of. “Julian starts the ritual. Some … entity … comes.”

  “Which is possibly what he encountered before.”

  “Yes.” It was making more and more sense. “So we succeeded in calling in something that could explain what happened in the attack on Samhain, and where he went afterward. Maybe. But then the other influence came, the malevolent one. And the rest, we know.”

  “Except where he went.”

  “We’ll figure that out too,” I said, and for a moment I truly believed it.

  Robert rose and extended a hand to pull me from my seat. I accepted it, lacking the energy to fight free on my own. For a moment I simply stood next to him, taking a breath to steady myself. Friends. I had more than one. I needed to remember that in the days to come; we could draw on each other’s strength.

  “Come,” Robert said, and we left the Dungeon.

  ~

  I stopped in the door to the bedroom, took one look at Liesel, and said, “You meddling little elf.”

  Despite everything, a smile spread across her face. I collapsed onto my own, unmade bed and rolled my eyes. “I thought you wanted me and Robert to forgive each other, or something—to get over being guilty about what happened.”

  Liesel snorted. “More fool me if I thought you would do it. No, you both have a right to feel upset over this mess. The Lord and Lady know I do. And that’s healthy. But you needed to talk it over, just for your peace of mind.”

  “Well, we did. As you can obviously tell.”

  “You’re no longer in a mood to chew on the walls, at least.”

  My anger was still there, but now it was aimed in a more useful direction than at myself. Whatever was behind that golden light, it would pay.

  The thought reminded me, and I sat up on my bed. “I should also tell you—more good came of this than just emotional therapy.”

  Liesel listened with wide eyes as I outlined what Robert and I had sorted out. When I was done, she laced her fingers together in a rare sign of nervousness and asked, “Kim … what will you do, if you figure out where Julian’s gone?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it. Rising, I paced to the window, looking out on the snow, flaming bright where the setting sun touched it. My stomach complained mildly, and I realized I hadn’t eaten lunch. We should go to dinner soon. Though the thought of actual food made me ill.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, thinking of my argument with Robert, my decision to help Julian despite the danger. “My fear is, I won’t be able to do anything.” I laughed softly. “How’s that for hell? Krauss rating of point four, and it’ll be good for nothing whatsoever.”

  “But you won’t give up,” Liesel said.

  “No.” I shook my head, still not looking at her. “I couldn’t live with myself if I left Julian to face this alone.”

  Silence from behind me. Liesel was wrestling with a question, hard enough that I could feel it in the air. Finally she voiced it. “And if he’s dead?”

  “He’s not.”

  I said it without thinking. It wasn’t defensive—or not only defensive—I believed it, gut-deep. Liesel said, “How do you know?”

  I looked down, twisting my hands. “I can’t prove it. You know how my readings have been. But divinatory gifts can work on a subtler level, too—especially if you’ve got a connection to the subject.”

  “A connection?”

  She knew damn well what I meant. This was her favorite trick, asking questions to lead the patient into understanding things for herself. For myself. Liesel wasn’t pushing me empathically, but she was definitely working on me, toward a specific end. I just wish she’d chosen a better time to do it. Like before all this trouble started.

  “Friendship,” I muttered at last, giving my fingernails far more attention than they deserved. “Maybe more.”

  Liesel rose and put her hand on my shoulder, a spot of warmth and support I sorely needed. “Then I believe he’s okay, or will be. Because you believe it, and I trust you.”

  Now we just had to hope I was right.

  ~

  My sleep was uneasy, troubled by vague dreams interspersed with sharp sequences where I tried to reach through the fire to take Julian’s hand, but watched in horror as my arms melted, dripping like hot wax to the ground until I was left with nothing beyond my shoulders; or where Julian’s skin was pulled from his body, him screaming all the while.

  I woke with a jolt from a cycle where I tried to escape the ritual circle, but was continually thrown back by the shields. For a moment I lay still, calming my heart. Then I looked at my clock and found it was early morning. Dawn was only a vague grey hint on the horizon. I gazed out the window for a while, then pulled on warm clothing and went outside.

  The air was searingly cold. I hunched my shoulders into my coat and tramped through the snow across the fields, with no particular destination in mind. My feet took me to the banks of the river, already frozen over, and without thinking I turned and followed its course upstream. The path was becoming far too familiar.

  Dean Seong hadn’t exaggerated the damage we’d done. The tree with the broken limb was gone, but I didn’t need it; the ground in a huge circle was bare of trees, underbrush, and even snow. I circled around its edge, eyeing the unnaturally clear dirt, before pulling off one glove and touching the earth gingerly. It burned hot, and I snatched my hand back. All physical traces of our work were gone. The only things in the circle that had survived the blast were ourselves and our ritual knives. Julian’s athame had been there, too, the blade scorched black.

  Postcognition wasn’t my strength, but I wasn’t incapable of it, either. Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mind.

  I realized my mistake an instant later, but not before a pounding headache leapt into being. If I looked crosswise at the circle of bare earth, I could see the radioactive glow of the spot, power heating the earth and all but blinding anyone who tried to examine it. The Dean and her cohorts must have set up a buffer to investigate this. No one could possibly read magical signatures out of something that volatile, not directly.

  Trembling, b
ut not from the cold, I perched myself on a boulder and sat looking out over the river. Sunrise was closer now, pinking the sky, but as yet doing nothing to warm the air.

  Sitting there, waiting for the sun to rise, I slowly released the various barriers within. My recent calm was unnatural. I knew it, and Liesel did too—but it was necessary. I could not afford to break down.

  Except now, in this little moment of quiet before the day began once more. Looking at the river, I exhaled a long, unsteady breath, and let myself acknowledge my fears.

  I might never see Julian again. Even if I did, he might not be whole, in body or mind. And then these past years, all the times I backed off, giving Julian the space he seemed to crave … I’d curse that lost time, those lost chances to reach across the gap and, perhaps, be more than a friend.

  My throat closed up tight. I balled my hands, but my gloves kept my fingernails from digging in. Oaths to do better were pointless; I might never get the chance to make good on them. But with the river’s icy surface blurring in my vision, I sent up a private prayer, to whomever might be listening.

  “Please—bring him back safe.”

  ~

  I hated tears, but they did bring catharsis. Once my face and nose had frozen solid, I went back to Wolfstone, and if my heart wasn’t lighter, at least it felt stronger. In the entryway of the dorm, I paused to shake a light dusting of snow off my coat, and was almost shoved back outside as Liesel came off the staircase at a dead run.

  She rammed my port into my hand. “You left this in the room.”

  I stared at her. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” she said, grabbing my arm and hauling me out the door. “They found Julian.”

  ~

  I careened down the hospital corridor, avoided a tray-laden nurse by the narrowest of margins, flew past a desk and the objecting man there—leaving Liesel to cover for me—and threw myself into a scene of chaos.

  Two doctors stood on opposite sides of Julian’s head, arguing loudly as a harried nurse tried to edge around them. A security guard—what the hell was he for?—stood uncomfortably, off to one side yet somehow in everyone’s way, doing his best to ignore the Dean chewing out Professor Grayson.

  I ignored all of them. Elbowing past a second nurse, I ducked around Grayson to crouch at Julian’s side.

  My stomach lurched at the sight of him. His dead white skin gleamed with a sheen of cold sweat, beading down his face to soak into his tangled hair. Far worse, every wiry muscle in his body strained desperately against the straps binding him to the bed.

  “Enough!”

  Grayson’s voice cracked like a whip through the babble. Everyone froze and stared at her—even me.

  The white-haired woman pointed one imperious finger at the doctor on my side of Julian’s bed. “You. Out. This isn’t your patient, and your counsel has not been called for. If you are needed, you will be summoned.” The woman tried to look outraged, but withered under Grayson’s glare and departed. The finger moved on.

  “You. That work can be done later. Go away.” The nurse under fire fled, nearly running over the one I’d shoved past. He, too, thought the better of being there.

  “You. Can you not guard a room from outside?” The security guard escaped with relief.

  When the professor turned to the Dean, her hand dropped and her tone softened, but not by much. “I’ll do what I can, Emily. You’ve put me in charge of this affair; now please allow me some time—and quiet!—in which to work.”

  Grayson was in control? No wonder she could get away with ordering everyone around. The Dean looked like she wanted to say something more, but decided against it. Leaving, she almost bumped into Liesel, who chose to stay in the hallway. Wise of her.

  That left four people in the room—me, Grayson, the second doctor, and Julian. In the silence I could clearly hear the rasp of his breathing as he struggled with crazed strength to free himself from the bonds that trapped him.

  My usual shields must have been in tatters, because Grayson’s voice gentled when she spoke to me. “Kimberly, you shouldn’t be here. We’ll let you know if anything happens.”

  “Why is he tied down?”

  The question came out too harshly, but I wouldn’t have taken it back if I could. Julian’s hand spasmed open and shut on my own as I slipped it into his, and he gripped my palm hard enough to grind bone against bone.

  “We had to restrain him,” the doctor across from me said, reeking of soothing bedside manner. “He could injure himself, or others. He wouldn’t even let us get an I.V. into his arm.”

  I straightened from my half-crouch, knees stiff, and looked down on my friend. What I saw made me sick.

  Julian’s eyes were open, but there was nothing of him in the blind rage I saw there. His lips were peeled back in a silent snarl. Every scrap of strength in his lean body directed itself against his canvas chains, jerking against them as though he could break free by sheer will. He fought with the desperate fury of an animal gone berserk.

  I knew Julian’s mind—better than anyone else in this room—and I knew what sent him over this edge.

  I could barely speak past the fist-sized lump in my throat. Julian’s straining body blurred into a smear of color; I wiped the tears away with my free hand. “Let him go.”

  A pause. Then Grayson replied.

  “Kimberly, we can’t do that. Look at him. He could hurt someone, maybe himself.”

  Julian’s left hand was the only part of him not throwing itself madly against the straps. It remained steady and white-knuckled, crushing my palm.

  “Release him,” I snarled. Were it not for Julian’s hold on me, I might have shaken her.

  Grayson looked at me. The doctor glanced back and forth between us, uncertainty written on his face. Guardians, even retired ones, had a certain amount of legal authority in such cases. The doctor wanted to keep Julian bound, but if the professor gave the word, he would probably have to cooperate.

  Desperate, I marshaled my empathic control, gathering up my certainty and tossing it to Grayson. Not to force it on her, but to show her, in the most direct way possible. I wasn’t just a panicked young woman, upset by her friend’s condition. I knew.

  Grayson said, “Untie him.”

  The doctor hesitated, but it wasn’t his call. I turned back to Julian and knelt, returning his grip with all my strength, as he began to unbuckle the straps.

  Julian surged upward as soon as his body was freed. One wide-flung arm knocked the I.V. stand over. The doctor lunged to save it. Grayson undid the band across his legs, and was almost kicked in the jaw for her pains. I put my hands on Julian’s shoulders, talking desperately to him. I had no idea what I was saying; I was simply trying to get through to him, past the madness, trying to find a spark in him that could still hear.

  At last he subsided, breath rasping in his throat. His left hand sought out mine once more, clutching it convulsively. I stroked his wrist, still speaking in a rapid, low voice, calming him as best I could. While I soothed Julian, the doctor examined his I.V. and checked several monitors beeping their displeasure.

  He backed off, out of my peripheral vision, and I dimly heard him speaking to Grayson, who answered briefly. The door opened and shut. Then there was quiet, except for Julian’s gasps.

  “Why were you so certain?”

  I ignored Grayson’s question. Julian’s eyes were closed, but the tendons in his neck no longer stood out as sharp ridges against his skin, and healthier color was returning to his face. Not enough, but he looked less like a corpse.

  After a moment, Grayson departed as well. Left alone in the hospital room, I sat with my eyes on Julian’s sweat-covered face, still whispering to him, holding his hand in both of my own, trying to call him back to himself.

  ~

  I stayed there for hours. Nurses showed up from time to time, to tinker with various pieces of equipment and make marks on a chart. Food was put on a little table for me.
I ignored it. Even Grayson appeared once, staring not at Julian, but at me, for a long time before leaving.

  He slept, but not peacefully. Dreams sometimes clawed at him, making him jerk his head back and forth, muttering incoherently; I gripped his hand and tried to ease him through them. Sometimes he stared at the ceiling, and didn’t seem to see me or anyone else. Then his eyes slid shut, and soon another nightmare took over.

  I didn’t know how to stop them.

  I needed more information for that. The room was quiet; no one had been in for a while. I settled my feet flat on the floor, breathed myself into a light trance, and called on a skill Liesel used much more often than I did.

  Julian’s aura surged with about eight different colors, few of them happy. Fear predominated, a sickly green. Murderous fury slashed through in almost equal proportion. But it was also streaked with dead-black horror, and colorless despair, grey confusion—and, oddly enough, repeated threads of bright curiosity. Other emotions, too, flashing in and out too quickly to be registered.

  I considered my options. I wasn’t some mind-numb PK specialist headed for Hollywood, but neither was I an experienced empath, trained to interpret Julian’s mental condition from his chakras or other signs. The doctors would already have done that, and this stalemate was the result.

  To know more, someone would have to do something that, given Julian’s current state, was insanely dangerous: they would have to touch his mind.

  Grayson would stop me in a heartbeat. But she wasn’t here right now; no one was. And Julian hadn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t. I had to believe that.

  I couldn’t live with myself if I left Julian to face this alone.

  So I’d told Liesel. And I was here—but that wasn’t enough. Julian was alone right now. If I could touch him, even for a moment, it might help.

  Taking a deep breath, I reached out and picked up his hand once more, curling the slack fingers around my own. The danger still lurked just beneath the surface, the terrible, uncontrolled power that could crush me in an instant.

  I gathered myself, closed my eyes, and dove in.

  Julian’s madness washed over me, carrying me down into the abyss.