Incubus (31 page)

“Lucas?” I felt a knife of ice twist in my stomach and knew then that someone—Dad? Hale?—had

talked to Lucas, convinced him that the best way to protect me was to keep me from the vessel.

“If keeping you safe means we have to wait a little longer, I’ll deal. It’s worth it.”

“Lucas, you’re not listening to me.
Twenty years
isn’t a little—” But Lucas cut me off, placing a

finger across my lips.

“Braedyn.” Pain laced his voice. “I’m too vulnerable to you right now. I’m asking you to stop,

please.”

I stared at him, suddenly speechless. Lucas brushed his hand against my cheek again, then pulled

away from me.

“And—don’t take this the wrong way, but I think maybe we should cool it on the dreams for a few

nights.” Lucas turned and left, without waiting for a response.

I stared after him, at a loss. I had to make him see—that vessel was the key. Whatever he knew, he

had to share it with us before it was too late. But before I could summon the energy to follow him, a

door opened behind me. It was Mr. Hart.

“Braedyn?” he asked. “I thought I heard someone fighting out here.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, taking a step away from him before I could stop myself.

Mr. Hart’s eyes tightened, and he studied me for a long moment. “Everything okay?”

I stared at Mr. Hart, suddenly remembering I’d been unable to touch his dreaming mind. After

Seth and I had seen the stranger in his house, I’d simply assumed we’d found our incubus. Now,

looking at Mr. Hart, I couldn’t fathom why we’d left this stone unturned.

“Braedyn?” he prompted. “Is there something on your mind?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, fighting to keep my voice level.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he asked with a small smile. Before I could figure out

how to answer this question, Mr. Hart looked around, then lowered his voice. “Listen, Braedyn. I’m

not a bad guy. I mean, you can ask Cassie.”

“What does this have to do with Cassie?” I asked, my voice faint.

A group of students rounded the corner of the building. Mr. Hart glanced at them, eyes narrowing.

He turned back and caught my gaze. “Just that, whatever you think you know, you should consider the

possibility that you’re wrong. I know you don’t want to see her get hurt any more than I do.”

I stared at him. Was that a threat?

“If you think about it, we’re really after the same thing,” he said. He retreated into the theater,

closing the door behind him.

I stood there until my hands ached with the cold, torn by indecision. On the one hand, I wanted to

find Lucas and convince him that we needed his help to locate the vessel. On the other hand, I needed

to make sure Cassie—who spent every afternoon under the power of the charming Mr. Hart—was

okay.

The costume closet, nestled in the heart of the building, was a cozy little den of creativity. I poked my

head into the room and saw Cassie hard at work at the table. A sturdy sewing machine hummed as she

guided material under the needle with expert moves. She was so absorbed in her work, she didn’t

notice me enter. I waited until the sewing machine stopped.

“Cass?”

Cassie looked up. When she saw me, she held a finger up. “Hang on.” She clipped a few loose

threads and turned the creation inside out. It was a large tunic in rich black brocade and velvet. Cassie

glanced at it, then turned to drape it over a wide dressmaker’s form. “I am insanely overwhelmed,”

she said. “Our Mortimer broke his leg—compound fracture. They think he’s going to be in traction for

a week or two. So Mr. Hart had to cast a new Mortimer, who’s three sizes bigger than the old

Mortimer, hence the mad scramble for new costumes at the last second.” She finished draping the

tunic and stepped back to give it a critical once-over. “Well, that’ll be good enough for a fitting,

anyway.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I said.

Cassie turned away from the costume. “What brings you to my kingdom?”

“Just, wanted to check in,” I said. “See how things are going.”
Make sure you’re not turning into a

little snack pack for an incubus.

Cassie wrung her hands. “I know things have been kind of weird between us this semester. I hate

it.”

I felt a swell of emotion at her honesty. “Me too,” I said. “I really hate it.”

“Hug it out?”

I laughed, and opened my arms. Cassie and I embraced tightly. When she pulled back, she was

smiling. “I’m so glad you came. I’m freaking out about this play.”

“Why?” I asked. “Everything I’ve seen of your costumes looks amazing.”

“It’s—” Cassie shook her head and I saw that she was really nervous. “I just wish I had more time

to get everything right before all my work is paraded in front of the whole school.” So it wasn’t that

she was worried about the costumes, she was worried about putting her talents on display for our

peers. “I know that’s stupid. People are going to be paying attention to the actors, not what they’re

wearing.”

“Cassie,” I chided. But telling her that her costumes were likely to be as eye-catching as the best

performances on that stage probably wouldn’t help matters. So I bit my tongue.

“Maybe—” Cassie gave me a pleading look. “Do you think you could come to dress rehearsal on

Friday? It’d be great to just get an outside perspective on the whole thing.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Knock, knock.” Mr. Hart walked into the costume closet. Cassie turned, her face filling with a

happy glow at the sight of him. I eyed Mr. Hart, trying to conceal my worry from him. But I didn’t

have to bother—he wasn’t looking at me. His attention was focused on Cassie. Try as I might, I

couldn’t sense anything supernatural about him. And yet, Cassie looked at him with such devotion.

She straightened, unconsciously straightening the hem of her shirt. “Hi, Mr. Hart.”

“I’ve brought you a Mortimer to fit.” Mr. Hart made a sweeping gesture back at the door as a

stocky kid waved. Cassie barely glanced at him.

“Excellent. I’m all ready.” Cassie turned back to me, almost as an afterthought. “I should get back

to work.”

“Right,” I said, stepping out of the way as the new Mortimer entered to admire the tunic.

Mr. Hart glanced at me with a veiled look. “Anything I can help you with?” he asked.

“Nope.” I tried to keep my voice light for Cassie’s benefit. “I was just leaving.”

“Then we’ll see you later, Braedyn.” Mr. Hart turned his back to me, watching Cassie measure the

new Mortimer’s arm length with her tape measure.

Oh yeah, I’d be at that dress rehearsal. It’d give me a chance to kill two birds with one stone;

support Cassie, and keep an eye on
him.
In the meantime, I had a bigger problem to solve.

I had to figure out how to convince Lucas to tell me what he knew about the vessel.

Training sessions were becoming the perfect outlet for my pent up frustrations. After our fight, Lucas

put a little distance between us. He was still angry, and I totally got that. But it made finding time to

talk to him alone impossible. Also, I was respecting his request that I not visit his dreams, which

killed any chance of a private conversation entirely. But when Saturday dawned, I was faced with the

uncomfortable reality that we only had one week until the full moon. I was running out of time to be

patient. Lucas had the key, and if we couldn’t talk, he couldn’t hand it over.

As I fought Gretchen and Matthew that weekend, I turned my thoughts to the enemy, picking apart

our assumptions about the incubus—and who he might be. Mr. Hart didn’t seem overtly supernatural,

but then again, I hadn’t been able to glean anything from his dream. What did that mean? And who

was the stranger in Seth’s house? That guy
had
seemed otherworldly—but I hadn’t seen him before or

since, and whoever the incubus was seemed extremely plugged into what was going on in my life. So

—where did that leave us? Nowhere.

Sunday’s training session was grueling, but I embraced it. The harder I trained, the less time I had

to think about the approaching solstice. For a few hours every day, I didn’t have the energy to think

about anything beyond the next attack, the next defense.

“It’s good to see you applying yourself again,” Hale said as we broke for some water. “I haven’t

seen you this focused since—” Hale hesitated only briefly, then gave me an encouraging smile.

“Well, you know, incubus on the loose,” I murmured. Lucas shot a look at me from the corner of

his eye. I drank half a bottle of water, then set the bottle down on the back table.

“Okay, let’s try another round. Lucas, you can sit this one out,” Hale said.

“Gladly,” Lucas said, pulling the tape off his hands.

Hale gestured to Matthew. “You take the front attack this time, Gretchen, you attack from behind.”

We moved to the mat, and Gretchen and Matthew surrounded me. It didn’t go well. I could handle

Matthew’s attack just fine—because I could see him. But Gretchen kept sneaking up on me and

pouncing. She wasn’t fighting full strength, but she still left a trail of bruises across my back. After

half an hour of this, Hale called a timeout.

“Look,” he said. “I’ve seen Lilitu fighting groups of Guardsmen, and it’s like they can see where

they are even though they’ve got their backs to them.”

“Well, unless you can tell me
how
they do it, it’s not really helping,” I muttered.

“You’ve already done it, though,” Hale said. “Don’t you remember?”

I looked up sharply, and I did remember—there was that one tiny moment last week where I could

sense Matthew lunging for me. I glanced at Matthew and saw that he remembered it, too.

“Want to try again?” Matthew asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Try to keep from getting touched,” Hale suggested. “Don’t worry about attacking. This is purely a

test of your ability to evade.”

We spread out across the mat again. This time I tried to let my focus roam. Instead of keeping all

my attention on Gretchen, I let part of my mind wander. And then there it was—I could sense

Matthew behind me, springing. I sidestepped him easily and he lurched past, grinning.

“Nice,” he said.

Before I had time to savor my victory, I was flat on the mat. Gretchen had tackled me from behind

while my attention was focused on Matthew. I groaned, grateful for the mat that softened our landing.