Chapter 9
My willow never took shape in the darkness. There was no safe haven to greet me or gradual build to the nightmare, just an iron stench burning my nose on arrival.
The tower.
And my mother, face down in a puddle of her blood. “Mom …”
I fell to my knees with shaky hands and held my breath, rolling her head gently into my lap.
No matter how many times I told myself it was a dream, a hallucination, the tears still came.
My fingers traced along her brow, and I found myself wishing she would somehow open her eyes and tell me everything was going to be okay.
But who was I kidding? She hadn’t bothered to comfort me when she’d dropped me off at the police station stairs all those years ago.
She’d never bothered in real life. Why would she in some imaginary death?
With her collar rolled up to conceal the purple, breathless hue of her neck—God, the blood—I tucked my shirt up over my nose and closed her jacket flaps; anything to conceal the gaping hole where her stomach should have been.
Careful to avoid her shredded parts, my fingers pushed coat buttons through their slits.
One, two, three, and—a crash sounded from the tower’s base, rattling me to my core.
I skittered into the corner as a raspy female voice echoed against the stone walls, her tone so cold it chilled my bones.
“What do you mean she doesn’t have it, you imbecile? How could you allow a mortal a third of your size take it from you?” A loud slap rolled through the air, followed by a beastly moan. “I never should have trusted you with something so important. I’ll find the damn stone myself!”
Their footsteps clomped up the tower stairs in succession. With no escape, I scurried toward the nearest basket and crawled in, sure to pull the lid down over me. I peeked through a crack in the wicker, fixating on the landing’s far side. Breathe, I reminded myself, quiet and steady.
In, out. In, out. In—
A sharp singe nipped at my shin. I jerked, but kept focus on the stairs.
Their steps grew quiet. So quiet, I almost thought they’d turned around, abandoned their mission when, again, an electric shock snapped at me.
I leaned back, trailed my hand across the basket base for any loose wicker ends, but found none.
Instead, parchment crinkled between my fingers. My breath hitched.
The package.
My mother, she’d stashed it before the beast rushed her.
I peeled the paper away, sending it fluttering to the basket floor, a brilliant red stone left in its wake.
A lump rose in my throat as familiarity—a sensation I was growing far too acquainted with these days—slammed into me.
Though this time, I knew exactly where I’d seen it before: reflected back at me in my own sketchbook.
Its image must have hijacked a ride into my dream by way of my subconscious.
Manifested by my own thoughts. Yeah, that tracks.
It was smooth to the touch with multiple divots across its surface.
I drew it closer. A ruby maybe? No. Garnet?
Also no. It had a similar deep red color but not the rough texture.
Whatever it was, the warm energy leaking from it made my stomach queasy. And was … was it moving? How the hell …
“Hurry up. I haven’t got all day,” the woman’s voice cut through the room.
She overtook the top stair, and her shadow cast across the floorboards a multitude wider than her petite frame should allot, with every definable feature concealed by a violet cloak.
My jaw clenched. Two paces behind, the beast emerged.
I watched in stunned horror as the cloaked figure prodded my dead mother’s body.
“Foolish woman.” She hissed and shoved her hand into my mom’s coat pocket, no doubt searching for the stone in my possession. Her face flushed pink. “No … no, it has to be here.”
In a flustered whirlwind, the woman clutched her necklace chain and threw her free hand out, the basket at my side reduced to an ashen pile before my eyes.
I clapped my hand over my mouth. Quiet! Don’t squeal.
The beast stepped forward, talons tapping against its chest like it was nervous; a meek, timid shell of the bloodthirsty monster I’d come to know.
“I—I made sure to thoroughly check the body before I left, my lady; she didn’t have it with her. I promise you,” the beast nearly whispered.
“Silence!” Once more, she tugged against her gold necklace—half its length tucked deep in her cloak—and the monster crashed to its knees. “Clearly you didn’t look hard enough because somebody took it!”
“Yes, my—lady,” the creature gurgled, obsidian stones rolling up its throat and out its mouth.
One after the other, they came, each larger and more painful than the last if the beast’s moans were any indication.
My gaze traveled from the beast to the woman and back again. Her. She was doing this to it …
“Good.” Her clutch on her necklace fell away, and the beast collapsed, hands clenched around its throat.
Damn, my imagination was twisted. How did it even come up with this crap?
My thighs burned in their hunched position.
Hands pressed against the wicker walls, I shuffled to reposition myself, only to have my foot slip beneath me.
Wrong move. The hooded figure snapped her head in my direction, and I stuffed the stone in my pocket.
Her footsteps were slow and calculated, and her gaze fixed.
She stopped a foot shy of my hiding place and hovered there.
My heartbeat rattled against my skull. God, I could feel her stare penetrate the basket. One tap resounded above my head.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang.
My knees quaked, heart skipping a beat.
“It seems I’ve found a little rat stowed away.” Her necklace rattled, and the wicker erupted in flame around me. I jerked my hands back—palms sweltering—to find myself in plain view. The woman loomed, face steeped in shadow.
I raised my hands in submission. “Don’t, please, I—”
She snapped at the beast. “Handle it.”
“With pleasure,” it frothed and looked me over, drawing nearer.
I scrunched down, making myself as small as possible, like that might help my odds somehow. Wake up, wake up, wake up! Why wouldn’t I just wake up? The strange stone in my pocket rattled more and more with every step the beast took, as if some internal sensor recognized its proximity.
“Finally,” it seethed, “I shall have my meal.”
A sudden chill settled in the room. In the blink of an eye, ice crystals jutted from beneath the beast’s feet, frozen spikes reaching clear up to its chin and pinning the monster in place.
“Damn it,” the woman said through gritted teeth.
Quick as a lightning strike, the white wisp flew up the stairs and took physical form all at once.
A man. A jolt ran through me. His black tailcoat flapped in the wind as he rushed the beast, throwing him from the second story to the tower depths below.
He spun toward the cloaked woman next, his white hair a beacon in the shadows leaching from her fingertips.
“Did you miss me, Bethesda dear?” He chuckled, a grin at his cheeks.
“Like hell I did.”
I thrashed from sleep, face flushed, body drenched in sweat.
I shook my head and pushed off the bed to physically run from the name trailed across every neuron in my brain. The second my palms touched the sheets, fire raced up my arms.
“Ah!” Slow and shaking, I drew my hands up and flipped them over as my heart clapped against my ribcage.
Oh God … Fresh burns. Clear down to my fingertips.
This couldn’t be happening. First the wicker, now burns.
I was losing my fucking mind! I gulped down the pain, shooting out of bed when the most sickening sound locked me in place: a hard clack against the wooden floorboards.
The unmissable roll of a round object. Despite every instinct to avoid, ignore, and head for the hills, I dropped to my knees.
“Please,” I begged nobody in particular as I pushed the comforter aside and peered under the bed. My veins chilled.
There, illuminated by its own hellfire light, sat the red dream-stone.