The Nightmare Affair (27 page)

My chest went tight at this news, making it hard to breathe. I remembered what Mr. Marrow had told me about how Nightmares had earned their bad reputation by sucking people’s souls out through their dreams, condemning them to a fate worse than death. Now it seemed I’d almost done the same to Eli without even knowing it.

“Well, she didn’t trap me last time, and we did a lot more than open a tomb,” said Eli. “Come on, Dusty. It’s fine—I’m fine.”

Bethany shook her head at him then looked at me. “I can’t believe your mother didn’t warn you of the dangers involved. She knows better, never mind how much manipulating she does herself.”

I didn’t reply, my heart sinking. Not just from the fear of what I might have done to Eli, but from the knowledge that my mother had lied to me on purpose. She’d
encouraged
me to manipulate his dreams.

Had she wanted me to hurt him? There was only one reason I could think of why she would do that—if she was working for the killer. The person behind the killings stood to lose the most from what Eli and I might predict in the dreams. But if Eli wasn’t around to do the dreaming …

Yes, her involvement made a lot of sense. Maybe her attempt to get me to run away with her that day was just a ploy to keep me from identifying the killer. Except there’d only been
two
killers in the dream, one of them F and the other—who? The Red Warlock? The person
had
transformed into the black phoenix. Did that mean my mother was innocent or merely that the dream wasn’t as literal as I suspected? Maybe there were three killers.

I closed my eyes and willed my head to stop pounding. There were just too many questions. Too much information I didn’t have.

“What’s wrong, Dusty?” Eli said, his voice soft.

I opened my eyes and shivered. “I’m just thinking.”

“It’s all right.” Bethany patted my arm. I looked up at her. She was smiling down at me with something like sympathy on her face, but I detected a note of smugness, too. “You’re not the first person your mother has tricked into doing something dangerous. She’s the one who taught
me
how to manipulate dreams. Only I wasn’t so lucky as you seem to have been.”

“How do you mean?” I whispered.

Bethany took a moment to answer. “My dreamer didn’t survive. And it was all Moira’s fault.”

21

Hags and Candy

I met up with Paul the following afternoon. We went for a walk in the tunnels, finally stopping in an alcove I’d never been in before, one far out of the way. With our feet hanging over the edge of the pool, a reservoir that fed into the canal system, I filled him in on my latest suspicions about my mother.

“What are you going to do?” Paul said.

I sighed. “I don’t know. Do
you
think she’s involved?”

“I think a lot of people are capable of things you’d never believe.”

I swallowed, disliking the certainty in his voice. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Most people think my uncle is a great man, a good and wise leader, but they have no idea the horrible things he’s done.”

“Like what?”

A bitter smile twisted Paul’s lips. “Put his nephew in the hospital. More than once.”

I covered my mouth as I let out an involuntary gasp. “So you didn’t break your cheekbone falling down the stairs?”

“No, just the wrist and the sprained ankle.” He traced a finger over his cheek where only the barest hint of bruising remained. “This was from his fist, which made me lose my balance and
then
stumble down the stairs.”

“But how is that possible? I thought The Will keeps magickind from doing physical violence?”

“It’s supposed to, but it doesn’t always. The spell’s probably focused more on magical violence than the physical. Either that or my uncle’s paying one of the Will-Workers to allow him to get away with stuff.”

“Chinks,” I said, thinking about Mr. Marrow. I grabbed Paul’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry. Have you told anybody?”

He laughed. “Who’d believe me? Or care, for that matter.”

“But what about your mother?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t seen her in years. She moved to Costa Rica when I was three and hasn’t been back since.”

“That’s terrible. And to think I’m mad at
my
mother.”

Paul wove his fingers through mine. “Please don’t tell anyone, Dusty. I’ve never shared the truth before.”

“I won’t. But I still think you should. He needs to be stopped.”

He smiled. “There’s not much point now. I’ve got less than a year to go before I can move out and start my own life.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “Right. Then you’ll be free.”

He leaned his head on mine. “You have no idea.”

We didn’t speak for a couple of moments, just sat staring at the water. We’d come down here for some privacy, but I was surprised to find the small chamber so warm and comfortable. Given better subject matter, it might even have been a little romantic.

“Well,” Paul said sometime later. “We’ve decided how I’m going to handle my problem but not yours. What are you going to do about your mother?”

I sighed, straightening up. “First, I suppose I should tell Eli and Selene about everything. Then maybe we could do some snooping. If I find certain proof she’s involved, I’ll go to Sheriff Brackenberry.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

I glanced up at him. “Speaking of which, our next meeting is tomorrow if you’d still like to come.”

“Sure.”

I tried not to grin. It occurred to me that I must suffer from some form of schizophrenia, given how quickly my mood had gone from utterly depressed to happy. “Hey, I almost forgot. Were you able to hack into that website?”

He grimaced. “Not yet, but I’m still trying. It’s got a lot of security on it. I’ve got a sniffer in place though, so it’s just a matter of time. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering what the heck a sniffer was. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

He beamed at me. “Yeah, but I like it.”

We stayed down there for another half hour. We talked a little about the tomb in Eli’s dream, speculating whose it might be. For all her insistence that she was so much better than my mother at everything, I hadn’t learned any new tricks from Bethany. All we’d done was explore the tunnels surrounding the main chamber. Most of them only led to more tunnels. Except for one, which rose steadily upward for a long time, only to dead-end in front of a locked door so small it must’ve been designed for midgets or maybe overly large trash trolls.

After a while the discussion gave way to kissing then touching. His fingers left trails of tingly heat behind as he touched my arms, face, the sides of my breasts. My fingers did their own dance over his skin, enjoying the hardness of a body so different from my own. I was as eager to touch him as to be touched.

He moved closer to me, leaning me backward as he deepened the kiss until my head rested on the hard floor of the tunnel. It was uncomfortable, but I didn’t mind. I was too consumed with wanting to be close to him. And I knew he felt the same. Our interaction came naturally, without thought or awkwardness.

But as he moved on top of me, his weight pressing my backbone into the harsh ground, I came back to my senses and realized what I was doing. I pulled back from the kiss and gently pushed him away. I liked him a lot, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to go further. He resisted for a long, tense moment then moved off me. We sat up, both panting.

“Sorry,” I said, glancing at my watch. “But if I don’t get some sleep, I’ll never make it through my detention tonight.”

“’S okay,” he said. His lips were red from kissing and his cheeks flushed. I’d never been more attracted to him. If we’d been making out like that somewhere else, someplace with a comfortable surface, I wasn’t so sure I would’ve stopped him.

He stood and offered me his hand. “You want to be careful of Ms. Hardwick. Hags can be deceptively nasty.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said. And just like that, gloom drove all my happy thoughts away.

*   *   *

Trying to fall asleep at five o’clock on a Saturday was almost impossible. The girls in the dorm room next door liked to play their music full blast. Rather than lull me to sleep, the steady thump of the bass only made my head ache. By the time I did fall asleep, it seemed my alarm sounded a moment later. I slapped it off, feeling groggy and wishing I had some way out of this.

Dr. Hendershaw had sent me instructions to meet Ms. Hardwick in the foyer of Riker Hall. I dressed quickly and got down there with five minutes to spare. I waved at Frank and Igor when they turned their eyeless stares at me.

“Detention, boys,” I said. This seemed to satisfy them, and they turned their gazes back toward the front door.

Ms. Hardwick showed up ten minutes after midnight, appearing from the entrance to the tunnels. She ignored the knights completely and shouted in a sickly sweet voice, “Come on, girl. The night’s half gone already.”

I hurried toward her, relieved to see she wasn’t the horrible, misshapen old woman I’d expected. Instead she looked like someone’s little old grandmother in her pea green housedress and gray hair in an untidy bun. She was short and plump with chubby cheeks and small dark eyes that would’ve looked at home on a ferret.

Then she smiled and shattered the illusion completely. Her mouth contained far too many teeth. They were tiny and looked sharp enough to cut through raw meat in a single bite. I realized with a sickening feeling that this was probably exactly what they were designed to do.

“Um, are you Ms. Hardwick?” I asked.

“Yes, dear. Hurry. Right this way.”

Hardwick headed down the sloping path into the tunnels. It took every ounce of bravery I possessed to follow behind her. She scurried along down the corridor far too fast for someone who appeared so old. Definitely creepy, like how eerily fast spiders move. I kept glancing over at her as we walked, taking note of all the other things wrong with her appearance, like the greenish tinge to her skin.

“So, they tell me
you
are the one who put Fritz in the hospital,” Ms. Hardwick said.

“Um, yes, I did—but I didn’t do it on purpose or anything.”

“That’s all right, my dear. You can be honest with me. I daresay Fritz deserved it, the horrible little fairy.”

“Mmmm,” I said, unsure of what to make of this. She was acting like we were kindred spirits or something. I knew that Nightmares were often mistaken for hags in folklore, but we were very, very different creatures. A hag, free of The Will’s control, would make human flesh a regular meal, the younger the better. Nightmares only fed on dreams.

And souls, sometimes
.

“So how
is
your mother?” said Hardwick, surprising me yet again. “I understand she’s teaching here now. Shame I haven’t bumped into her yet.”

“Uh-huh.” We were walking so fast, I was finding it hard to speak without panting. It would’ve been easier to jog, but I didn’t want to get outpaced by an old hag.

Ms. Hardwick didn’t seem to mind me not holding up my end of the conversation as she prattled on. “And you’re the new dream-seer, so they say. Surprising, but then maybe fitting, too.”

I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she never gave me a chance as she chattered on. In no time at all, we were climbing the slope from the tunnels into Jefferson Tower. Any ideas I’d had at getting a chance to catch my breath were short-lived as Ms. Hardwick marched to the staircase and headed up.

“We’ll start at the top and work our way down,” she announced.

“Great.” I’d meant the response to sound sarcastic, but it came out so soft and breathless, she probably mistook it for agreement.

We reached the restrooms on the top floor at last, and I slumped against the nearest stall, panting.

“Tsk, tsk,” said Hardwick. “You children just don’t spend enough time focused on your health these days. Too much entertainment, I daresay.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes, but it wasn’t worth the effort.

“I suppose I will summon the cleaning supplies for you then.” Hardwick walked over to the nearest wall and traced a rectangle with her finger while she muttered an incantation. A moment later, a cupboard door appeared in the wall. She pulled it open, revealing several shelves of cleaning supplies—everything a girl could want for getting the job done. Awesome.

“There you are,” said Hardwick, clapping her hands. “Let’s get to it, lots of bathrooms to go.”

Sighing, I selected a pair of rubber gloves, a toilet brush, bleach cleaning spray, and a handful of rags. Then I bent to work. Ms. Hardwick conjured a chair out of thin air and sat down, watching me with her ferret eyes. I did my best to ignore her.

When I finished the last stall, I straightened up, stretched the crick out of my back, and said, “Done.”

Hardwick flashed her too big smile and stood up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve cleaned my fair share of toilets before.” Maybe not public ones, but I was trying not to think about that so much.

Hardwick entered the first stall, bent her head toward the toilet, and sniffed long and deep like a starving person over a pot of stew. I stuffed the heel of my hand into my mouth, trying not to gag. For a moment I was certain she would start licking it.

Hardwick stepped out of the stall, letting out a contented sigh. “I don’t think so, my dear. I can still smell the foulness. You’re going to have to scrub harder with that brush of yours.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Hardwick flashed her teeth and said in that same falsely sweet voice, “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Uh, no.” I glanced down the row of stalls. “I guess I’ll do it again then.”

Three attempts later, Hardwick pronounced the work satisfactory, and we moved on to the men’s. My hands felt raw already despite the gloves, and my muscles felt tense and achy. It was going to be a long night.

And so it went, stall after stall, floor after floor. If I’d disliked Dr. Hendershaw before, I despised her now. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.