“Lady!” A high, feminine voice cut the air. “You’re awake. Splendid.”
A female nightmare bustled through the trees. She appeared human in every aspect, though she was clearly modeled after someone’s eccentric aunt on an acid trip. Dozens of spools of thread were affixed to her short jacket and strands full of buttons clicked around her neck like pearls. White tights ran down to her floral Mary Janes and her skirt was a rainbow of neon tulle. Her blonde hair was divided down the middle in two French braids, and a tiny top hat, no bigger than my thumb, sat cockeyed on her head. She blinked large, owlish eyes and smiled. “Join us, join us!”
“I’m—” I cleared my throat in hopes of sounding more in control. “I’m in a hurry.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” the nightmare said. “You’ve been asleep so long.” She stepped around the button creatures and tucked my arm through hers. “I was just starting a new project, but it can wait. It’s not every day the Lady of Nightmares pays a visit.”
Project?
She led me through rows of trees into a clearing. Mounds of buttons nearly twice my height were sorted by color on the far side, but it was what sat in the center that stopped me: an elderly woman strapped to the surface of a dinner table by large red ribbons, each bow expertly tied.
“Don’t pay her any attention,” the nightmare chirped. “The beginning stage is always a bit messy, but she’ll be beautiful in no time.”
The Dreamer turned her head and large blue buttons stared in our direction, sewed over her eyelids. “Help me, please,” she begged, her voice raw.
I wrenched my arm from the nightmare and bit my tongue. The Weaver wouldn’t let this bother him. I needed to win the nightmares to my side, and that wouldn’t happen if I outwardly judged and chastised them for doing what they did. I had to be diplomatic. For now. Once I cemented myself as their leader, I could change the rules.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Oh, goodness. How rude of me.” The woman straightened her jacket. “I’m the Doll Maker.”
“Ah.” I put on the face I wore so often: the calm, unbothered expression my own mother bought for so many years. “Well, don’t kill her. We don’t need to give the Sandman reason to put the barrier back up.”
She bowed slightly. “Of course, Lady, but I would never hurt my dolls.”
I watched a bead of blood travel down the old woman’s face and held back a cringe. We apparently had very different opinions of what hurt meant. My fingers skimmed over the stitches on my shoulder. “Did you do this?”
“Yes, Lady.” She tapped her fingers together in front of her and rocked on her heels. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you heal quickly, but when I found you, the wounds were bleeding quite badly.”
I shook my head. “I appreciate it.”
The Doll Maker beamed. “Don’t hesitate to come back next time you need stitching. You won’t find another nightmare with as light a touch as mine.”
Next time. She didn’t have to sound so sure about my needing to be mended again. It stood to reason I would, but still, let a girl find her feet before knocking them out from under her.
“How long was I out?” I asked.
“Six hours or so.”
Six hours? My family would know I was missing by now. So much for not ruining Thanksgiving. I rubbed at the guilt rolling through my upper abdomen. The Sandman probably knew too. Would he also know about Mara? I had to warn him before Mara hurt anyone else.
“Where’s my bag?” I asked.
The Doll Maker flung her hands up and scurried around the table. A moment later, she stood in front of me and gingerly held the black bookbag out as if it were a baby. “I had to remove it to get to your injuries, but it’s all there. I didn’t even peek.”
I nodded slowly as I eased the straps over my shoulders. It hadn’t occurred to me that she would steal anything, but now that she brought it up, I would be checking as soon as I got a moment alone. Doing so now would be insulting, and she seemed to like me, which was both lucky and invaluable.
“So.” I looked around the button forest. “Which way would the Keep be?”
“Terrible Rowan. Terrible, terrible,” the Doll Maker spat. “Taking what’s not hers. It would be one thing if the nightmares following her were only doing it because they craved a powerful leader. A majority are, mind you, but there are a few that she’s spent decades wooing to her side. Ah—” She cut herself off sheepishly. “Forgive me. That was not your question, Lady. If you head—”
A gloved hand materialized on the Doll Maker’s shoulder, followed by a man nearly seven feet tall. I swallowed a scream as he loomed over her with a wide red hat swooping low over his features. People didn’t just appear like that. But he wasn’t a person. He was more dangerous than that, which made staying silent all the harder. When he brought his chin up, a black Venetian mask covered his entire face. Red painted lips swooped up into a cold smirk, and red looping scallops were painted around each eye—or where his eyes should’ve been if the mask offered holes to see from. The black and red color scheme from his mask continued into the rest of his clothing, from the high, puffed collar to the matte shoes on his feet.
“Halven! My goodness,” the Doll Maker chattered. “Two visitors today! Aren’t we lucky?” she called to the woman on the table. “Though you did give me a bit of a fright.”
Halven gave her a soft squeeze before removing his hand, then stepped toward me. Don’t move. My legs quaked from the effort to stay still. He extended a hand covered in a black silk glove, and I flinched. He seemed to contemplate the reaction, his head tilted. I could feel him staring, though there was no outward proof of it.
Then Halven bowed deeply.
“Umm…” I glanced between him and the Doll Maker. “Hey.”
“Such good timing.” The Doll Maker shifted closer to me, almost as if she sensed my discomfort. “There’s no one better than Halven to guide you where you’re going.”
Doubtful. Besides, I was sure his timing was anything but a coincidence. “But he doesn’t know where I’m going,” I said as neutrally as possible.
“Of course he does.” She patted Halven’s forearm as if she were a proud mother. “He knows where everyone is, where they’ve been, and where they’re going. Sometimes even before they do, isn’t that right?”
Halven, still in his bow, dipped his head lower.
“He can take you right where you’re going, my Lady. Don’t you doubt that!”
Halven lifted his head, and it felt as if he stitched me to the buttons beneath my feet. “Do you know where I’m going?” I asked, somehow sure he did, though I sure as heck didn’t know my destination. Heading straight for Rowan before I got my footing was foolish, and I would need to get in touch with the Sandman before making a move. For his help, and, more importantly, for his forgiveness. If the worst happened, I didn’t want to die without apologizing first.
Halven nodded.
“And is it the Keep?” I asked curiously.
He shook his head, and I fidgeted with the straps of my bookbag. “I’ll need some things before I face Rowan. Supplies. An army—?” I said carefully, testing their reactions to gauge how bad things really were. I really, really didn’t want to raise an army. Or lead one. But if Rowan had the Blood Army at her service…
“Army?” The Doll Maker pressed a hand to her chest and glanced quickly over her shoulder toward the woman on the table. She shuffled closer and lowered her voice. “My Lady, you don’t need an army to defeat the usurper. All you need is—”
Halven shot up straight and snatched my hand with his. Before the Doll Maker could say another word, we were halfway through the button forest with every step feeling like ten. The darkness inside me reveled in it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t share the sentiment.
“Stop,” I whispered, trying to shake away the disorientation. When he didn’t, I sucked in a breath. “Stop!” The voice was half mine, half something else. A commanding thing. Halven came t
o an abrupt halt and released me. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”
He bowed low.
“What was she going to tell me?” I snapped. “All I need is what?”
“Your power, my Lady.” His voice was deep and forced from behind the mask, as if it took all of him to speak a single word.
I waited for him to continue, but he remained silent. An innocent enough answer, so why rip me out of there? But now wouldn’t be the best time to call him on it. We were alone, for one. I took in the desolate landscape. “Where are we?” A fiery geyser blasted up from the ground, and a wave of heat brushed against my face. Oh, cool. Death by fire. My favorite. “Never mind,” I muttered.
“I will not betray you,” Halven vowed. “Trust me.”
“Trust has to be earned.”
I had given it too freely before when I took the dagger from Rowan and Kail. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, but the truth was I didn’t have much choice. Not unless I wanted to wander aimlessly and hope the next nightmare I ran across wasn’t an enemy. I’d only seen a small amount of my own realm: the cave Katie was tortured in, the Barren, the Blood Tower, and a few other random places on the way to the Keep. Nothing that would offer me shelter.
The straps of my bookbag dug painfully into my shredded shoulders, but I did my best to ignore it in favor of the very real, very big problem in front of me. I stared at the black spaces where Halven’s eyes should’ve been. Don’t do it. But the grin, half formed and unsure, nudged me forward.
“So earn it,” I dared. “And keep your hands to yourself.”
Halven gracefully swept an arm out, and I edged past him.
I can do this. I can rule here.
Not that I had much choice.
11
The Sandman
Snow crunched beneath my boots, my breath clouding in front of my face, but not even the frigid temperature could wipe away my smile. My heart was quieter than it had been in a long time, and my body felt more alive. I could still feel every line Nora traced on my skin. The taste of her lips lingered on mine, along with the memory of her breath on my neck. The shiver that ran over me had nothing to do with the nightmare landscape surrounding me.
Pay attention.
I had a job to do. The three nightmares I took control of on the lawn of the Keep waited at the top of the mountain overlooking the ruined palace. I ignored the booted footprints, large enough for me to lie down in, that lead in the same direction. Either an enormous nightmare lurked nearby, or they were there for the fear factor. That I left no prints of my own did not escape me. It was likely designed to confuse Dreamers when they couldn’t retrace their steps, but it benefited me in a way that would’ve irked the Weaver into altering the entire cliff side.
My smile did waver then. The Weaver was dead, and—Nora’s situation aside—I should’ve been glad of it. Part of me was, but not every part. It was strange to know I would never fight him again. There was something like comfort in an enemy one knew and something like grief in the ghost of our friendship. Having both ripped away left me disoriented. Maybe it was a good thing I was too busy to process that aspect; maybe the uncertainty of it would fade away with time.
The two-headed deer trotted toward me, its eyes glazed over with my magic. I laid a palm on its forehead and closed my eyes. My magic skated to the surface just below his fur. An image grew slowly. It warbled and faded, but the message was clear. At least two-thirds of the Blood Army lurked in the swamp near the Keep, biding their time, hidden from view. Their usual near-constant moaning had ceased, likely on Rowan’s order. Their black cloaks blended in well with the dark trees. The hiss of the red mist coiling around their ankles could be attributed to the tears of children hitting the scalding swamp water or the cry of the witch dwelling at its center. All-in-all, the swamp was well chosen. I tried not to think about how many of the remaining third were in the basement because even a fraction of the Blood Army was more than enough to pose a threat.
Other images came and went, but showed nothing I hadn’t already seen with my own eyes. My hand fell to my side, and I willed my magic to fade back into the deer’s subconscious. The nightmare’s pupils constricted as the creature regained itself, and a moment later, it raced back down the mountain with its tail in the air. I had hoped to learn something more. One of Rowan’s weaknesses, maybe, or if a more advanced nightmare was helping her. I couldn’t take out Rowan, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t weed out other powerful enemies. Unless the other two spies had anything we could use as a springboard, I didn’t see how I could justify bringing Nora back earlier than planned.
There’s time, I told myself continuously over the last few months. We would figure it out one step at a time, but now that time was almost up, and we had figured out precisely nothing. The thought of Nora coming here, staying here, ruling here, made my blood run cold.
A quiet buzz of wings zipped down the mountain. The spider’s black form cut a line through the stark white horizon. It veered left, then right, as if it were unsure which way to go. Here, I called to my magic, but a stone spear whizzed overhead, straight through the spider’s wings. The arachnid flipped through the air, legs flailing, and stopped only when its abdomen became impaled on a broken branch. I froze. Between us, the bright white handle of the spear stuck straight into the sky like an icicle. My heart thumped, heavy. A spear that size would need a nightmare even bigger to throw it. The footprints—
The spider’s legs quivered and black blood oozed from the base of its missing wings. I scanned the direction the spear sailed from but saw nothing. The obvious thing to do was leave. The spider was dying, and there was no need to pit myself against anything that could help Nora later. But if it learned something, anything, it could make the risk worth it. There was a world of possibilities left unaligned. Baku and I hadn’t killed so many nightmares saving Dreamers that it would affect—
A cutting gasp of Nora’s fear rippled through my veins, yet it was the excitement mixed into that caught me up. It was a dark thrill woven with magic I knew all too well, and it left me with a warm, pooling sense of accomplishment. Nora wouldn’t, would she? Could she? I rubbed my chest as it grew closer. No. Nora had barely mastered basic combat. There was no way she could make it to the Nightmare Realm without help. Then my lungs deflated as every other sensation gave way to blinding terror. I zeroed in on the pain, nearly bright enough to blind me, and reached out desperately for something solid to grab onto. For a cord no longer there. But there were others. I latched onto the closest one and held on to the dull cord as if it were my sole lifeline.
By the time I could see straight again, I stood in Nora’s bedroom. I gripped the edge of her dresser, panting, but when I raised my eyes, it wasn’t Nora that stood in front of me. Katie faced the desk, and her hand shook as she clutched a piece of paper, her knuckles white. Pieces fell into place. The note. Nora’s absence. The emotions.
“No.” The word fell from my tongue so quietly I barely heard myself speak, but Katie did. She spun toward me, banging into the desk, and her eyes locked onto me with something between recognition and fear. “Where is she?” I asked from beneath my hood. Katie opened her mouth, either to answer or scream, but nothing came out. I stepped forward and plucked the paper from between her slackened fingers. “She’s safe?” I asked, reading over the letter. The page crumpled in my grip. “Taking time to enjoy the city?”
“Why don’t you tell me where she is?” Katie asked in a wavering voice.
The Nightmare Realm. She was in the Nightmare Realm. My body felt numb, my brain scrambling to find answers. How? I glanced at Katie. At least I had an answer for why. Her mother and sister—the only two close blood relatives she had—made her feel like she was out of her mind, and she was starting to believe it.
I flung my hood back and stared Katie right in the eyes. “Are you sure you want to know?”
She slammed one hand over her mouth. “Ben?”
I held the note out for h
er to take back, waiting for her answer. Katie did everything in her power to pretend nothing happened five months ago, including lying to Nora’s face. Why would she want to know now, now that it was too late?
Something hard flickered through her eyes, her expression shuttering. “Or should I call you Sandman?”
“Call me whatever you like,” I said, harsher than intended.
When Katie didn’t take the note, I set it down on the desk. Dusk had barely settled outside, casting the room in cool light. Already it felt cold and empty, the four walls missing their heart. The sentiment echoed in my chest. Nora asked me to take her back to the Night World, and I failed to give her the answer she wanted last night. So she went anyway. Because she didn’t believe in me. I searched out her emotions but found a black wall as hard as granite. I fell onto the edge of her bed. The same bed we… She knew what being together meant to me. I wanted to take things slow and make sure our relationship had a firm foundation so there was no chance for regrets. But still she… Had she planned on leaving with or without me even then? I should’ve known. The night she found me in the Dream Realm with the knife Rowan gave her, she wanted the same thing from me. It was all to distract me from her lies.
“You won’t find her,” I said softly to Katie. I covered my face with my hands and fought to breathe. “What have you done, Nora?”
Katie made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “It’s happening again, isn’t it? What did you rope her into this time?”
I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes. “I can explain.”
“No,” she said in a low, angry voice. “I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses. Get out of my house.”
“I—”
The door slammed. When I looked up, I was alone in Nora’s room, and my heart tore. Gone. Nora was gone. What more could I have done to make her believe in me? When had she stopped? There was a time not so long ago that we were inseparable and had leaned on each other. She told me she trusted me, loved me, as I loved her, but she had taken the knife from Rowan. She killed the Weaver, nearly killed me, because she hadn’t believed what I said about the balance. And now… She didn’t believe me when I told her what she was about to walk into. And yes, part of me selfishly wanted to keep her from the Nightmare Realm to protect her, but I wouldn’t have. What I wanted was nothing compared to what she needed. It never was.
Dark Consort Page 9
