Chapter 26
XXVI.
To Fly
I dreamed of mirrors and hallways again.
This time, I had the giant’s lantern in my hand and when I lifted it, I saw the bruised shadows filled with naked bodies.
I ran to escape, but every hallway narrowed and narrowed, until it crushed me on all sides.
I woke in my own bed without any memory of how I got there.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to move.
For some reason, I felt terror. Terror in the bright light of day.
It was a strange, pale kind of fear that felt terribly close to the weight of the spirits that had haunted me all my life.
I could remember the night, the intimacy between us, everything until I slept, and none of it explained the terror.
Now awake, it was hard to tell the difference between the memories of the evening, which felt unreal, and the dreams, which felt too vivid.
I remembered being sick, which was embarrassing, except I hadn’t felt embarrassed. I had felt …
I did not know.
And in the absence of knowing, I lay there, slowly filling in how I felt, telling myself the story of it, reworking the scenes and my feelings and the nature of it until I was sure it was euphoric, spiritual, intense, confusing—yes, still confusing.
Then the raw fear slipped away, and I was able to get up.
He did not say anything to me when I entered, his head bowed over a piece of correspondence.
Who did Death write to? I wondered. But as I sat and began to arrange my work, I was aware of his gaze on me.
As long as he stayed quiet, so did I. Quiet and diligent.
It seemed as if everything we’d done, been, and felt together was in the room with us as a pale specter in the light of day.
My heart started racing every time I thought of it.
“How far are you?” He leaned over and inspected my work.
I showed him my progress and was myself surprised to see how far I’d come.
“You’ve made a lot of progress since you’ve stopped running off after other distractions.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
I hadn’t realized he’d noticed how much time I spent in the woods. I wondered if Perchta still waited for me or if she had given up. I wanted to go back, but I wanted to please him more.
“Distractions are what we chase to avoid that which gives us true growth,” he said. His hand on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts. “I think you are ready to fly.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he pulled me up by my hand. “Come with me.”
I had not forgotten that night in the chapel, as much as I tried to.
I followed him into the hall, fear crawling up my throat like hands scrabbling for purchase.
But thank the saints, he led me in the opposite direction of the chapel, to the base of a stone tower.
We began to ascend—the twisting steps were so narrow and steep; the bottoms of his shoes flashed as he went up before me.
Every so often it would occur to me that I had lain with him as a wife or a mistress, and yet I couldn’t seem to find it in my body.
“You are ready this time. Don’t fear. I have your body. You’ll be safe with me,” he assured me as finally we entered the round room of the upper tower.
It was empty except for one rug and a fireplace, with only a single, narrow window facing east. We were high enough that I could just see the tops of the firs, spread thick and green below us.
Renaud’s words confused me, but I tipped my head to the beams of the tower ceiling.
“I know I’m safe with you,” I said. “What am I to learn next?”
“To find the soaring expanse of your power.”
“Will you teach me summoning?” I tried not to sound too hopeful.
He shot me a look as he brushed off a rug in the middle of the empty room. “I thought you already knew. Haven’t you summoned a demon?” His tone was gentle and teasing.
“That was an accident.”
“Well, how did you do it?”
I crossed my arms and paced around the rug. I did not want to reveal the shameful details of it all. But he waited patiently for my answer, dark eyes thoughtful. Finally, I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Focusing brought it through—but I wasn’t focusing on a demon.”
“Focusing?”
“I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s this place in my thoughts that keeps bringing things through.”
“Keeps?” His gaze cut to me. “Has this happened before?”
“The violet I made, for my test. I think it was the same. Only instead of something coming through on its own, I reached in and plucked it.” I didn’t mention Rochelle—I didn’t feel confident arguing with him, knowing he still thought her appearance an illusion of my desire.
His mouth settled into a thoughtful line. I felt restless and turned again to the narrow window. “Why do we need to be up here?”
“It’ll be easier for you. You’ll feel it right away.”
“Feel what?”
He gestured to the floor. “Lie down.”
My legs didn’t seem to want to move.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, soothing. “Whatever comes, you will never be alone. We will do it together.”
Reassured by his promise, wanting to believe there was a world where I’d never be alone, I gave a tight nod and went to the center of the carpet to lie down.
“Most sorcerers cannot do this awake. But the last time I tried to help you, you”—he looked down, as if overcome with emotion—“left me.”
The night in the chapel. The place in my mind where those memories lived drifted toward me, but though I stiffened, I let them pass untouched. “I am sorry. I hadn’t understood.”
“Most don’t. I sometimes forget that your power does not always match your capacity to understand it. I’m trying to teach you something most sorcerers do not have the capability for. You can do it. I know you can.”
He was so easy to believe. His promises didn’t seem outlandish or absurd.
It seemed to me, a prostitute, a novice in all things, that this way of obtaining power—listening to his every word, believing the world he created for me—was the true way.
Hadn’t the nuns spoken always of Jesus’s surrender?
Hadn’t I already learned what every patron desired in exchange for their gold?
So I crossed my hands over my belly and took deep breaths against the race of my betraying heart.
“Close your eyes and let me find you,” he ordered. His voice was Lord Death as I met him on the road.
The surrender was hard, which filled me with shame—that after all this time I could not make it easier.
Partly, this was because I sensed the thread of myself, the spiderweb that Perchta had taught me to find.
And because I knew it was there, even if only a little, I felt him push against it and I had to lower it to allow him in.
When I did, there was a rush, the bracing chill of his presence, pulling me right out of my body. I steeled myself against the urge to shove him out, to run again. I would not run again.
As I rose, it was startling to see myself—my body—left behind.
I could see myself as I never had before, without the warp or illusion of glass or dreams. I looked healthy and well kept, dressed in fine clothes, with color in my cheeks and my black hair nearly blue with its shine in the afternoon light.
My flesh filled out on my bones after a lifetime of hunger.
And yes, Renaud was right, I was beautiful.
I looked like a sorceress, a powerful sorceress.
A sudden rush lifted me higher, and my body below arched as if we were connected by an invisible cord.
Could the cord be cut? I panicked—trying to ask Renaud, and then panicking again when I realized I had no voice.
I was above my body. I did not know how to return.
I nearly lost my grip on everything, but beneath me, Renaud knelt and laid one broad hand on my stomach, over my hands, fingers splayed wide and masterful.
It was clear what he was trying to tell me.
He would keep my body safe. He would keep me safe with himself.
His presence filled that shell of myself and I heard his whisper in my own mind.
Fly.
I looked up to the roof of the tower and soared.
The pitched black tile fell below me. The endless blue sky rose.
I flew! I cannot tell you, even now, how it felt.
I tipped in the wind like a red kite, wings spread, through the tightly folded mountains, and it was as if I were truly myself for the first time.
The forest was so rich and dark beneath me.
It didn’t feel malevolent from this height.
I wanted to bury my hands in its canopy like I was a child digging my fingers into warm river mud.
I circled and dove and swept along the top of the swirling trees.
My heart lightened, every fear falling away.
I felt, for the first time, completely and utterly free.
And in that freedom, I knew exactly where I wanted to go.
Trusting Renaud had a firm hold on my body, I turned into the wind. High over the mountains, I found the river and followed its thin silver vein, over waterfalls and ravines, high peaks, and then finally, the village appeared in a wide-open valley of vineyards and clustered farms.
I just wanted to see Dacia. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to make sure she had not been taken. I had sent my letter, but of course there was no way for her to respond.
I felt as if I were seeing the village for the first time.
It seemed even smaller and meaner—a mar on the landscape at the edge of the vineyards.
The Blue Moon was easy to spot on the eastern wall.
I dropped to the thatch, expecting to have to find a way inside, but I slipped right through the roof.
It seemed all barriers were permeable in this form.
I slid down in the eaves where we slept, and found the girls were all getting dressed for the evening.