The Devil's Dreamcatcher (24 page)

Mitchell and Alfarin continue to work on their immolation. Alfarin is proving to be an absolute natural, although it takes another three attempts before he can turn himself on and off at will. It appears Elinor's death is his trigger, but she's also his trigger to stop. All she has to do is call out to him and his flames vanish in an instant.

Mitchell is still struggling, though. His immolation isn't as intense as Alfarin's—who explodes like a bomb—but it takes Mitchell longer to get it under control. As a result, he burns for a lingering period, and his form takes longer to recover. Mitchell's clearly in a world of pain, but he doesn't complain once. His bravery astounds me. Mitchell isn't an in-your-face warrior like Alfarin, but I don't think he appreciates how much we—I—admire him.

Jeanne is already an expert at flying, and as she continues to teach Owen, it becomes clear that she knows how to control the air around her. She does this so well that she can hover just above the ground, with a faint nimbus of stars surrounding her. The Maid of Orléans looks so beautiful and serene, and precisely the image of what people who are living think angels should look like. I'm sure
of it now: she's definitely done this before, but when I finally dare to mention her immolation she refuses to talk about it.

Owen's transformation gets him from A to B—eventually—but he has little control. Jeanne gives him a target: a snow-covered ridge on one of the mountain peaks, but he overshoots it by miles. He's starting to get frustrated, and I notice that when he hovers, his movements affect the pinecones and needles on the ground. They whizz around his army boots, as if caught in a funnel of wind. The effect of flying is also changing Owen's appearance. After every flight, his skin is paler, so much so that by the time we call it a day, his face looks like white marble.

Jeanne's light-brown skin is unchanged, and I add that to the list of questions I know she'll never answer.

I think we'll be ready after one more day of training. Our moment in time, right now, is January 1, 2015, but when the time comes to confront the Unspeakable, I think we'll have to be back to the date we left Hell. We just can't run the risk that another child will be chosen to be the Dreamcatcher in the time that has elapsed. We haven't slept since we left Septimus's office in such a rush, and although we've been to moments in time in San Francisco, Washington, the UK, and now New Zealand, I think in true terms, we've only been gone from Hell for a day or two at the most.

One more day, and this could be over for the others.

And then everything will be over for me.

When it's time to call it a day, Angela wants to go back with her mom. But when the rest of us elect to stay on the shores of Lake Pukaki, she reluctantly decides to stay as well. Owen takes Mrs. Jackson home and reappears a minute later. He says he won't let Angela do it because he's still mad at her for using the Viciseometer to involve her mom in the first place. Secretly I think he's angry at himself. I think Owen's scared he's losing his humanity because he never thought of the Dreamcatcher's future, either. For a while I was mad at myself for this, too, but I've been doing some thinking, and
I've decided my true humanity disappeared the second my fingers slipped from the bridge. I'm an echo of my living self. And I have to wonder, if I stopped the behaviors that the Highers left us devils with—like the desire to eat and sleep and breathe—would it make any difference at all?

In the back of my mind, I hear my conscience telling me that I'm only saying these things to harden myself up for the battles to come. Taking back the Dreamcatcher is only part of the war. The real horror comes after.

And I'm scared.

Night falls, and the eight of us make camp beneath a canopy of towering pine trees. We light a fire, but we keep it small because we don't want to be seen. My body is telling me I should sleep, but I'm fighting the sensation and winning. I've never seen a night sky like this, and I want to remember it. Millions and millions of stars gaze down at us, like glitter sprinkled over a black blanket. There is a huge cluster directly above, which Mitchell says is the Milky Way. He starts pointing out constellations and the different swirling galaxies that make up the universe.

“Are ye making these names up, Mitchell?” asks Elinor as Mitchell maps out the sky with his index finger. “Because that is the strangest bull I've ever seen. It has only two legs and no head, for one thing.”

“No, I'm not making it up,” Mitchell replies indignantly. “And I'm telling you, that constellation is called Taurus. I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little. My mom and dad used to buy me space books. They said those were the only things I would read.”

“Tell us about Orion the Hunter again, Mitchell,” says Alfarin. “To be placed in the stars is a great honor. I would like to hunt bulls and giant crabs. Tell me, do the heavens also have winged beasts and monsters from the deep? My brethren and I would wage war against them all, and it would be bloody and savage and glorious.”

“I think that cluster, the one near that red star, should be named
after you, Alfarin,” says Angela. Johnny is lying across her legs, and she's absentmindedly twirling his red hair through her fingers. “It looks like there's an axe right in the center of it.”

“That red star is Mars, which is actually the nearest planet to ours,” says Mitchell. “And Alfarin deserves to have a whole galaxy named after him.”

“My friend, that is the nicest thing you have ever said about me,” replies Alfarin, and even in the moonlight I can see he is a little misty-eyed. “You, too, shall be immortalized in the stars. I name those three stars in a row after you, as they remind me of the sticklike form you possess. Indeed, I shall find stars for all of Team DEVIL.”

“Do you call yourselves that because you're devils, or does it actually stand for something?” asks Angela.

“Dead but not Evil Vanguard In Life,” replies Elinor. “Mitchell thought of it.”

“Only smart thing I did the last time,” mutters Mitchell.

“What about Team ANGEL?” asks Alfarin. “It is not as majestic as our glorious name, but I am interested to hear what name you gave yourselves as you prepared for battle. Wars have been won and lost on the fear of a name alone.”

“We weren't preparing for a battle, Alfarin,” replies Owen. “But we did name ourselves before we left Up There.”

“And?” asks Elinor. “What is it?”

“It is ridiculous,” mutters Jeanne.

“No, it isn't,” replies Angela defensively. “And Team DEVIL did exactly the same thing.”

“Which merely proves my point,” says Jeanne, rolling her eyes.

“ANGEL stands for Armored Ninjas Going to Emancipate Life,” says Angela triumphantly. “I thought of it.”

“I like it,” I reply, not because I do, but because Mitchell and Alfarin have burst out laughing and now Angela looks a bit hurt.

“My point is proven again,” mutters Jeanne, but everyone ignores her.

“Armored Ninjas,” says Mitchell, still laughing. “That's awesome.”

“I like the word
emancipate
,” adds Elinor.

“Well, He approved,” says Owen diplomatically. “And for angels, Up There's approval is all that matters.”

“Can ye see Up There from down here, Owen?” asks Elinor. “Is it on one of the stars or clouds?”

“Heaven is an immortal domain, Elinor,” replies the soldier. “We aren't in the skies, the same as devils are not trapped below the earth.”

Mitchell sits upright. “What do you mean? Hell's in the center of the earth, isn't it?”

Owen shakes his head. “We all exist in another realm. When we die, our forms move on, so while you might think you have been sent Down There, the truth is you exist in a different place altogether. One I believe the Highers created, just for the dead.”

“That cannot be true,” says Alfarin. “I have read many books in Hell's library, more than most devils combined, as has Elinor. We have never heard of such a thing.”

“It isn't broadcast, Alfarin,” says Owen wearily. “There are so many secrets. Some are kept quiet for the greater good, and some . . .” Owen trails off.

“But Hell feels the tectonic plates of the earth shift,” I reply. “We have to be in the center of the world.”

“Such arrogance,” mutters Jeanne. “You are devils, and yet you still believe yourselves to be at the heart of it all.”

“Shut up, Jeanne,” says Angela. “That's not what Medusa meant at all, and you know it.” She's clearly still pissed at Jeanne for mocking her team name, but regardless, I'm really starting to like Angela. She reminds me of a modern-day Elinor. Her heart may not beat, but it's definitely in the right place.

And she's stopped being so touchy-feely with Mitchell.

Jeanne rises into the air and hovers several feet off the ground. The nimbus surrounding her is even more pronounced in the darkness, and she glimmers with a golden sheen.

“You know nothing of life and nothing of death,” she snarls. “You are all so wrapped up in your sorrow and self-pity. There are
millions of the dead who would glory in the opportunities that have been afforded to you by General Septimus, and yet you are totally ignorant about your existence and the domain where you dwell. Knowledge is power, and you fail to use it.”

“Knowledge is power?” I reply. “Are you kidding me? You came out on this mission with Owen knowing absolutely nothing. You didn't know about the Skin-Walkers, for a start. Owen is the only one of you angels who knows a damn thing.”

“Hey, don't get pissy with us,” says Johnny loudly. “And I'm getting a bit fed up with everyone making me out to be stupid.”

The tranquillity of the stars is broken as the two teams descend into trading insults. Even Elinor starts in on Jeanne for causing trouble; Jeanne in turn yells at Alfarin for one thousand years of ignorance.

“Why did you say that, Medusa?” asks Owen.

“Don't get high and mighty with me, Owen. I'm sick of you and Jeanne always trying to pick a fight, but at least she's obvious about it. This is your fault. You and your superior I've-read-your-file- Medusa-and-you've-died-twice garbage. You've been insinuating that you know secrets about us since we joined forces.”

“What did you say?” asks Mitchell suddenly.

“All I wanted was to enjoy one final moment of peace, before everything goes to shit,” I continue. “But no, the angels have to start fighting with us—again. We went looking for you, hoping you could help us save a little boy, but it was just too much to ask, wasn't it?”

“What did you mean about Owen reading your file and you dying twice?” Mitchell demands.

“It's nothing, Mitchell,” I say, shooting Owen a look. “Just some nonsense that Owen keeps going on about. In fact, I take it back, because Owen doesn't know a damn thing, either. I'm starting to suspect that no one here has any knowledge and not one of us has any power. Every one of us is a pawn, and we have been since the day we died. Knowledge isn't power, not when you're dead.”

If I was expecting some sort of divine intervention or confirmation of my tirade, it doesn't come. The mad rantings of a mad girl
with mad hair evaporate in the air. They float up into the star-filled sky and disappear into the cosmos with every other word that has been whispered, spoken or shouted since the Highers created the living, because I'm irrelevant, and I have been since the day I was born.

“Owen, what did you mean when you said Medusa has died twice?” asks Mitchell for a second time.

Once again I see a flash of red around Owen's pupils, and curiosity supplants my rage. Why do his eyes keep doing that? It doesn't happen to Angela or Johnny, or even Jeanne, who is more devil than Team DEVIL combined. Does it happen when he's angry, or scared?

Or does it mean he's manipulating us? I'm suddenly struck by the thought that maybe Private Owen Jones isn't an angel at all.

“Have you ever read Medusa's personnel file, Mitchell?” asks Owen, stepping away from me.

“Most of it, but some of it was marked
personal
. And I didn't read that, because it's private.”

“It's
personnel
, not personal. And seeing as you've just interviewed her for a role in the accounting office, I would have thought that the first thing you would have done is check the details on her records. If you had, you would have seen that Medusa, or Melissa Olivia Pallister, has had two dates of death recorded.”

“How do you know I've just interviewed Medusa?”

“Septimus has his spies in Heaven, and Heaven has its spies Down There, Mitchell.”

“Ignore him, Mitchell,” I say. “This is all just another war game to you, isn't it, Owen?”

“No war is a game. But the winner is the one with the best strategy, all the same,” says Owen. “I'm not trying to scare you, or disarm you. I've said all along that you're special, Medusa.”

He reaches out to touch me, but Mitchell gets there first. Owen reels back as Mitchell lands a right hook on his jaw. Jeanne drops down to intercept, but with a speed that betrays his huge form, Alfarin grapples the French warrior from behind, pinning her arms
to her sides as she thrashes to release herself. She tries to fly away, but Alfarin sinks his heels into the ground and holds on.

“I will not hurt you, French wench,” he booms, “but you will not attack my friend.”

“
Stop it!
” scream Elinor and Angela as Owen picks himself off the floor and launches himself at Mitchell. Johnny looks completely torn as to which side he should be fighting on. Instead, he tries to become a peacemaker by forcing himself between Mitchell and Owen, but Mitchell is taller and Owen is broader, and the three of them are soon rolling around on the ground. Fists are flying, and I don't think any one of them has any idea who they're connecting with.