Nightmare’s Edge (17 page)

The tree’s trunk let out a long creaking sound, and the branches sagged lower, obviously saturated and heavy. If much more rain fell, this might not be a safe place to hide.

Mictar looked their way, his nostrils flared. Shuffling closer, he played three short notes as if calling out, “Where are you?”

Nathan clamped down tighter on Felicity’s mouth. Why was Mictar hesitating? He had to know they were nearby. Why hadn’t he rushed ahead to find them?

The rain stopped suddenly, and as the clouds raced away, a strange glow shone in the distance. Mictar halted and tilted his head up. Nathan, too, looked skyward. The canopy above had turned from gray to purple, with hints of azure and blue spreading from treetop to treetop, but no sun appeared. The light seemed to be coming from over the horizon, as if dawn was about to break, but the sky was brightening too quickly — far too quickly.

Mictar pointed the bow at their hiding place. “I smell your presence, Nathan and Francesca Shepherd. The aroma of the gifted ones is one you cannot hide.”

Felicity struggled, but Nathan kept her locked down. “Since you’re staying put, Mictar, I don’t think we’re the only ones who reek. I can see the yellow stripe down your back from here.”

“Oh, yes, the heroic barb, the comical insult to buttress your sagging courage.” Mictar propped his bow against his shoulder and laughed. “But I must give you credit: you really are good at comic relief, flinging taunts from behind a spider tree.”

Nathan looked up at the branches. Although the rain had ended, the branches continued to sag as if reaching down. Felicity’s words came back to his mind.
“I smell the clutching wood.”

A knobby-fingered hand reached down and grabbed Nathan’s arm. He jerked away and pulled his mother and Felicity back just in time to avoid two other wooden claws, but as he hurried backwards, he tripped over a root and fell on his rear.

Mictar laughed again. “Watching a clown perform his arts is truly entertaining.”

Nathan jumped to his feet and wiped mud from his backside. Felicity groped for him. “Death is near. I hear him, smell him, feel his presence.”

Grabbing her wrist, Nathan pulled her to his side, while his mother picked up a hefty branch and wielded it like a club.

“Why were you hunting for Felicity?” Nathan asked. “She’s just a dream.”

“What do you take me for, a fool? I keep my own counsel.” Mictar took a step toward them, but stopped. A new voice, powerful and deep, sang from over a hill in the distance, sending beautiful vowel sounds across the cemetery.

Felicity whispered, “Mictar seeks a gateway to the mind of the new gifted one, the sleeper, the dreamer, my beloved.”

As the blue light brightened near the hilltop, Mictar backed away, crouching like a wary cat.

Backing away at the same pace, Nathan caressed Felicity’s arm. “Did you just interpret that song?”

“Yes,” she replied. “He called me his beloved. I must go to him.”

A head appeared at the hilltop, then the body of a young man came into sight as he walked to the crest. An aura of blue light surrounded him, and its glow spread throughout the graveyard. With his silky blue shirt and dark blue hair flowing in the breeze, he seemed more unearthly than ever. Jack walked a step behind, threading his hat through nervous fingers.

Nathan stopped and bent close to Felicity. “His name is Cerulean. And another friend is with him, a guy named Jack.

They’ll keep death from finding you.”

Mictar squared his shoulders and glared at Cerulean. “Since your doom is certain, cursed supplicant, coming to the graveyard is most appropriate.”

As Cerulean approached, tombstones crumbled, weeds shriveled, and lush grass grew in their places. Flowers sprouted near Mictar’s feet, yellow, orange, and purple blossoms bursting forth with radiant petals. Flashing a brilliant smile, Cerulean spoke, this time with words instead of vowel sounds. “Graveyards become gardens, darkness becomes daylight, and daisies decorate the feet of death.”

The stalker leaped to a bare spot in the path and kept his icy glare trained on the supplicant. “Poetry won’t save you from your fate.”

Cerulean’s glow diminished, but his eyes stayed as bright as his smile. “Sacrifice appears as a curse to those of limited perception. To the beneficiary, it is life itself. To the provider, it is the path to enlightenment and the end of all fear, for perfect love casts out all fear.”

“Trite moralisms nauseate me. You sound like my fool of a brother.”

Slowing his pace, Cerulean pointed at himself. “That is because he has listened to my song, to Amber’s song, and to Scarlet’s song. He has learned the meaning of sacrifice.”

“Bah! Fodder for girlish romance.” While keeping his stare locked on Cerulean, Mictar pointed at Nathan. “Did you know that Patar has more than once insisted that this boy kill you along with your color-coded sisters? Did you know that this boy and his mother are the reason Scarlet lies dead in Sarah’s Womb, never to return to your loving embrace?”

Cerulean glanced at Nathan, his smile wilting ever so slightly. He halted and folded his hands at his waist. “All three of us have asked for the cup of death to pass by, but if the master of the table pours it into my goblet, I will drink it to the very last drop.”

Mictar sneered and waved his hand. “You can stay at the side of this ugly little blind girl forever, but you can’t stop me. With Scarlet’s corpse now rotting in the abyss, you will never be able to protect all three of the gifted Earth Red dwellers. I will eventually find one unguarded, and when I do, the Lucifer machine will again be fueled.”

With Jack standing at his side, Cerulean stretched out his hand and called with a deep, commanding voice. “Felicity, my beloved, come to me!”

Felicity pulled against Nathan’s grip. “I have to go to him.”

“But Mictar’s in the way, the guy you call ‘Death.’ ”

She took off her glasses and looked up at him with her vacant sockets. “We all have to suffer the presence of death to enter the arms of our supplicant, but death is merely an odor. It comes and it goes, like breath in our nostrils, and after it passes by, only the fragrance of life remains.”

Nathan stared at her, slowly releasing his grip. How could a blind girl who has seen only darkness, who has suffered through countless nights of fear, speak so beautifully?

As Felicity pulled away, Nathan’s mother touched his arm. “Dreams often give us eloquence, Nathan, for God pours wisdom into the dreams of men.”

Looking at his mother, Nathan shivered. “Did you read my mind?”

“In a way.” She smiled and held his gaze for a long moment. “It’s as if your thoughts are spoken through your eyes.”

Nathan had to look away. He reached out and took Felicity’s hand again. “I’ll lead you to him.”

Cerulean shook his head. “Let her go, Nathan. Her fears are many, and she cannot overcome them if you guide her.” Again extending a hand of invitation, he called out, “Felicity, come to me. I will lead you across the shadow of death with song.”

Clutching her walking stick, she tapped the ground in front of her, now without her dark glasses. Cerulean stood about a hundred feet down the path. As Felicity drew closer, he crouched and held both hands out as if waiting for a baby to approach with her first toddling steps.

Mictar stood between them, closer to Cerulean than to Felicity, no more than sixty feet away from the supplicant. The stalker glanced back and forth between the two, looking frightened and confused. Obviously, he didn’t dare confront Cerulean, but he didn’t seem to want to leave. Every time he looked at Felicity, his eyes took on a hungry look, even though the little blind girl had no eyes for him to take.

Cerulean sang new vowels, each one sounding like a daddy’s comforting lullaby. Felicity echoed the translations. Her voice, strong yet tremulous, carried to Nathan’s ears.

You need no crutch, no hand to hold.
My voice is all you need.
So cast away your fears and cares
And harken unto me.

Felicity threw her walking stick to the side and, extending both hands in front of her, walked forward.

The smell of death grows strong and foul.
It permeates the air.
It threatens those who fear the dark;
It kills when souls despair.

As she neared Mictar, Felicity slowed. Cerulean raised his voice, his passion rising with every note.

But neither height nor depth nor darkest pits
Will separate us hence;
The healing one will find you soon
And mend the cosmic fence.

Felicity came within reach of Mictar, her arms still extended and fingers groping, and her feet within inches of the stalker’s long, spindly shadow. Mictar lifted his violin to his chin, its black wood a stark contrast to his pale face. He played a loud note that muffled Cerulean’s voice. Then, sawing across the strings, he created a scratching, buzzing noise that barely resembled music at all.

As Mictar stepped back toward Nathan, the path ahead of Felicity collapsed. A deep crevice stretched at least fifty feet from side to side. With earth still crumbling away, the edge crawled to within inches of her feet.

Nathan jumped ahead. “Felicity! Stop! There’s a — ”

“No!” Again Cerulean held up his hand. “Do not add to her fears!”

Felicity halted at the very edge and stretched out her fingers.

“Is it safe to walk?”

“No!” Mictar said as he lowered the violin. “If you take one step you will fall into endless depths, and you will never be in your supplicant’s arms.”

“He lies,” Cerulean countered. “Run to me. This is your dream. You can do whatever your faith allows. No valley will swallow you as long as you believe.”

Mictar raised his violin again. While Felicity paused, every limb shaking, Nathan whispered to his mother, “It’s time to replace that musical hack. Play something. Anything. As long as it’s melodic and loud.”

She lifted the violin and played the opening measure of
Finlandia
. Nathan lunged toward Mictar. Like an out-of-control linebacker, he rammed into the stalker’s lanky body and bulldozed him into the ground. He jerked the violin away and jumped to his feet, careful to avoid Mictar’s deadly hands.

Standing over Mictar with the violin raised, Nathan growled, “Remember the last time I clubbed you with one of these? If you move or make a sound, you’ll get an encore performance.”

“Fool!” Mictar sang out a shrill note. A streak of blackness shot from his mouth and splashed across Nathan’s chest, sending him flying into a backwards somersault. He slid on his back, and the violin’s strings banged against the turf, sending out a violent stream of twanging notes.

As he righted himself, Felicity spun toward him. “Nathan?”

The ground shook in time with the echoing call of Mictar’s violin. The edge of the crevice gave way. Felicity toppled into the void and disappeared. Her screams, loud and heart-wrenching, faded away. Still clutching his hat, Jack jumped in after her.

“Nathan!” Cerulean shouted. “Take off your sweatshirt! Francesca! Keep playing!” In a flash of blue light, he dove into the growing chasm.

Nathan looked down at his chest. A mass of blackness stretched like wiggling fingers toward his face. Dropping the violin, he grabbed the back of his sweatshirt and peeled it over his head, careful to keep his face out of whatever that black stuff was.

His mother ran to his side, then resumed her playing as she stared at Mictar. She had switched to “Danse Macabre,” and the notes seemed to fly toward the stalker in long ribbons of white.

Mictar scrambled to his feet and grabbed some of the ribbons out of the air. He threw the handful to the ground and stomped on them with his boot. “I may not be able to overpower both of you while you play,” he said as he swatted down more of the ribbons, “but I have another victim in mind.”

He picked up his violin and strode back to the dream world’s core. He clawed at the dark barrier, searching, groping. Finally, it gave way. He ripped open a gap and squeezed through, disappearing as the wall sealed behind him.

Heaving a long breath, Nathan’s mother lowered her violin. “At least we know how to defend ourselves against him.”

“Yeah, but Kelly doesn’t, and I’m sure she’s his prime target.”

11

WHEN COURAGE IS BORN

Nathan walked to the chasm and looked down. There was no sign of Felicity or anyone else; only darkness spread out below. As he shuffled back to his mother, he spread out his arms. “Now what?”

“What choice do we have?” she asked. “We can’t go anywhere, can we?”

“So we just stand around and wait for Cerulean to show up? Hope that Felicity is with him so we can look for Dad?”

“Patience, son.” She pointed her bow at him. “Since your father’s not here, I think it’s time for a mother-and-son chat.”

“What do you mean?”

“You lost control with Mictar and distracted Felicity. Remember the proverb?
A fool always loses his temper, but a wise
man holds it back.
”

“I remember.” Letting out a sigh, he looked around the deserted cemetery. Another proverb entered his mind, his father’s favorite.
Do not be afraid of sudden fear nor of the onslaught of the
wicked when it comes
;
for the Lord will be your confidence and will
keep your foot from being caught.

And his father faced every danger with squared shoulders and a firm jaw. “Maybe you can help me figure out Solomon Yellow. In comparison to Dad, he seemed . . . well . . .”

“Yellow?” she offered.

Nathan laughed. “I didn’t want to say it. It sounds too corny.”

She sat on the ground and patted a spot next to her. “There’s a story I don’t think you’ve ever heard.”

“Sure. As long as we have to wait, why not?” Bracing his body, he lowered himself, favoring his bandaged hand. “I wonder how long this dream will last. When I fall inside a dream, it usually means I’m about to wake up.”

“That’s happened to me, too.” She set the violin in her lap. “If this dream ends, what will happen to us?”

“I’m not real sure. Some dreams get swept up in a storm, while others just fade away. But I think it’ll just get dark and we’ll be in a gap between dreams.” He looked around at the former cemetery. It was already too dark to see the newly sprouted flowers.