Chapter Eighty-Six Shoot For the Jars
“We should probably get the jars ready,” Simon suggests, bending over to pick up a few of the ones on the floor. He’s right, so we spend the next five minutes setting them up so Jude can funnel the nightmares into them.
When that’s done, I look at him. “You can do this,” I say.
“Oh, I know I can.” He’s more in control, more focused, and more confident about his powers than I’ve ever seen him. He’s also incandescent with rage, so this should be one hell of a show.
“Okay, then. What do you need from us, man?” Simon asks, shuddering a little. I assume that’s because he’s brushing against a witch from the past who is currently mixing her own herbal elixirs.
“Just make sure nothing gets away, I guess,” Jude answers, though he doesn’t sound all that concerned—like he knows he’s got this. Which I absolutely know he does.
I watch as he reaches for the tapestry and starts to pull the thread at the corner.
Nothing happens.
“Maybe you need to pull harder?” Mozart suggests from where she’s peering over Luis’s shoulder.
“I’m pulling pretty hard,” Jude tells her, then tries again, and it’s obvious that he’s putting some serious muscle into it.
Nerves jitter through my stomach, and a little voice in the back of my head wonders what will happen if I’m wrong. But I ignore the doubts, because I’m not wrong. I know we need to unravel this tapestry, even though Jude is currently having a difficult time with it.
“Try a different corner,” Izzy suggests.
But that doesn’t work, either.
A glance at Jude tells me he’s still trying—that he still believes I’m right. But it’s obvious the others are starting to doubt, even before Luis quietly asks me, “Are you sure about this?”
“I was,” I answer. But I can’t see the glowing tapestry anymore, or all of the dots in space.
I close my eyes, hoping to be able to see something—anything—and there it is. The tapestry and all the many, many threads.
I move my hand over it, and the whole thing ripples. I do it again, this time with my hand several inches above it, and it does the same thing. Only it starts to glow again as well. And that’s when it hits me.
“Don’t touch it,” I tell him. “Use your mind instead of your hands.”
“My mind?” he asks. For the first time, there’s a shred of doubt in his voice. “I’m not telekinetic.”
“You don’t have to be. But nightmares aren’t tangible, right? I mean, you can’t actually touch them. So maybe you can’t touch them here, either. Maybe you just have to use your imagination to access them,” I say. “Close your eyes. Picture the tapestry as thousands of little threads—”
I break off, because he’s already doing it. In front of our shocked gazes, he pulls one long, feathery, silver thread from the tapestry.
“Oh my God…” Mozart exclaims in awe.
“He needs a jar!” Simon comments, and Luis shoves one down the table to Jude.
But Jude has already sent the nightmare floating toward a different jar and has turned his attention back to the tapestry, where he starts pulling a second thread.
Except there’s a problem.
“Hey, Jude,” Luis says nervously. “The nightmare isn’t going in.”
Jude stops mid-pull, a dark-purple nightmare in his hand. He uses his other hand to wave the first nightmare toward the jar a second time. It moves at his command, but it doesn’t go in like it’s supposed to. Instead, it wraps itself around the glass container.
“They’ve never done that before.” Jude narrows his eyes in concentration and tries a third time. Once again, the nightmare follows his directions in all ways except it still doesn’t slide home like it’s supposed to.
Jude looks annoyed, and this time when he flicks his hand, the nightmare winds itself around his forearm before settling into his skin.
I suppose that’s one way to solve the problem.
Jude goes back to harvesting the second nightmare, but it does the same thing when he tries to store it in a different jar. It flat-out refuses to go.
“Well, this is going to get interesting,” Izzy says, eyeing Jude up and down. “Good thing you’re tall.”
Jude ignores her and keeps going. And going. And going.
Within fifteen minutes, he’s pulled about five hundred nightmares off the tapestry. The only problem is he’s used up nearly every centimeter of available skin on his body and he still has about three quarters of the tapestry left to go.
In fact, the next nightmare he pulls off—a bright-gold one—circles him, looking for a place to land. When it doesn’t find one, it starts spinning and twisting its way around the room. Simon jumps out of its way, Mozart ducks when it twirls near her, and Luis dives under the table.
“Seriously?” I say, ducking down to look at him.
He doesn’t even look embarrassed. “No way am I eating someone’s face off.”
“Is that another one of your nightmares?” Izzy asks. “Wicked.”
“Not wicked,” he tells her. “Disgusting.”
Unfortunately, the nightmare is still at large and looking for a home. Plus, Jude has already pulled off another one, which I’m sure will be circling soon, and the last thing we want is for it to slip out of some crack in the door or something.
Not that I think Jude would let that happen, but these things are slippery.
Although I have no idea what I’m going to do with it if I can grab it, I still reach a hand out for it. But, unlike the others, it doesn’t come near me. In fact, it gives me a wide berth.
I wonder what that’s all about?
But Jude is currently holding two wiggling nightmares in his left hand as he continues to pick the tapestry apart with his right, so I know I’ve got to figure something out.
I have one more idea, but it’s completely outrageous. Then again, everything about the last few days is outrageous. What’s one more thing?
I walk up to him and lay a hand on the center of his back. The second I do, the nightmares in his hands start straining toward me.
Not only that, but the gray one floating around the room makes a beeline toward me, as well.
Maybe this idea isn’t as outrageous as I thought. I glance up at Jude. “Do you trust me?” I ask.
In a moment that I will remember forever, Jude—who doesn’t trust anyone—doesn’t even have to think before he says, “Yes.”
And just like that, something snaps taut inside me.
The sudden tug is so powerful that I stumble back—and into Jude, who also just lost his footing.
Our eyes meet, and the moment they do, a warmth like nothing I’ve ever felt blooms in my chest before fanning out to my entire body. It’s a warmth that feels exactly like Jude when he’s holding me, his big body and beautiful soul sheltering me from the world. And in that moment, as I feel his strength and determination and steadfastness and power deep inside myself, I figure out what just happened.
Our mating bond has snapped into place.