She lifted her mouth from my skin, and looked up, into my eyes. They were her eyes again—dark, rich, warm brown, bloodshot, filled with tears. "The vampires," she said. "They—"
"I know."
She closed her eyes, more tears falling. "I tr-tried to stop them. I tried."
Pain hit me again, pain that didn't have anything to do with poison or injuries. It hit me sharp and low, just beneath my heart, as though someone had just shoved an icicle through me. "I know you did," I told her. "I know you did."
She fell against me, weeping. I held her.
After a long time, she whispered, "It's still there. It isn't going away."
"I know."
"What am I going to do?"
"We'll work on that," I said. "I promise. We have other problems right now." I filled her in on what had happened, holding her in the dimness.
"Is anyone coming for us?" she asked.
"I … I don't think so. Even if Thomas and Michael got away, they couldn't storm this place. If they ever even got out of the Nevernever. Michael could go to Murphy, but she couldn't just smash her way in here without a warrant. And Bianca's contacts could probably stall that for a while."
"We have to get you out of here," she said. "You've got to get to a hospital."
"Works in theory. Now we just have to work out the details."
She licked her lips. "I … can you even walk?"
"I don't know. That last spell. If there was much left in me, that spell took it out."
"What if you slept?" she asked.
"Kravos would have his chance to torture me." I paused, and stared at the far wall.
"God," Susan whispered. She hugged me, gently. "I love you, Harry. You should get to hear it't—" She stopped, and looked up at me. "What?"
"That's it," I said. "That's what needs to happen."
"What needs to happen? I don't understand."
The more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. But it might work. If I could time it just right …
I looked down, taking Susan's shoulders in my hands, staring at her eyes. "Can you hold on? Can you keep it together for another few hours?"
She shivered. "I think so. I'll try."
"Good," I said. I took a deep breath. "Because I need to be asleep long enough to start dreaming."
"But Kravos," Susan said. "Kravos will get inside of you. He'll kill you."
"Yeah," I said. I took a slow breath. "I'm pretty much counting on it."
Chapter Thirty-six
My nightmares came quickly, dull cloud of poisonous confusion blurring my senses, distorting my perceptions. For a moment, I was hanging by one wrist over an inferno of fire, smoke, and horrible creatures, the steel of the handcuffs suspending me cutting into my flesh, drawing blood. Smoke smothered me, forced me to cough, and my vision blurred as I started to fade out.
Then I was in a new place. In the dark. Cold stone chilled me where I lay upon it. All around me where the whispers of things moving in the shadows. Scaly rasps. Soft, hungry hisses, together with the gleam of malevolent eyes. My heart pounded in my throat.
"There you are," whispered one of the voices. "I watched them have you, you know."
I sat up, shivering violently. "Yeah, well. That's why they call them monsters. It's what they do."
"They enjoyed it," came the whispering voice. "If only I could have videotaped it for you."
"TV will rot your brain, Kravos," I said.
Something blurred out of the darkness and struck me across the face. The blow drove me back and down. My vision blurred over with scarlet and my perceptions sharpened through a burst of pain, but I didn't drop unconscious. You don't, as a rule, in dreams.
"Jokes," the voice hissed. "Jokes will not save you now."
"Hell's bells, Kravos," I muttered, sitting up again. "Do they produce a Cliche Lines Textbook for Villains or something? Go for broke. Tell me that since you're going to kill me anyway, you might as well reveal your secret plan."
The dark blurred toward me again. I didn't bother trying to defend myself. It drove me to the ground, and sat on my chest.
I stared up at Kravos. Forms and shapes hung about him like misty clothes. I could see the shape of the shadow demon, around him. I could see my own face, drifting among the layers. I saw Justine there, and Lydia. And there, at the center of that distorted, drifting mass, I saw Kravos.
He didn't look much different. He had a thin, pinched face, and brown hair faded with grey. He wore a full, untrimmed beard, but it only made his head seem misshapen. He had wide, leathery shoulders, and symbols painted in blood, ritual things whose meanings I could vaguely piece together, covered his chest. He lifted his hands and delivered two more blows to my face, explosions of pain.
"Where are your gibes now, wizard?" Kravos snarled. "Where are your jokes? Weak, petty, self-righteous fool. We are going to have a very good time together, until Bianca comes to finish you."
"You think so?" I asked. "I'm not sure. It's our first date. Maybe we should take this one step at a time."
Kravos hit me again, across the bridge of my nose, and my vision blurred with tears. "You aren't funny!" he shouted. "You are going to die! You can't treat this as a joke!"
"Why not?" I shot back. "Kravos, I took you out with a piece of chalk and a Ken doll. You're the biggest joke of a spellslinger I've ever seen. Even I didn't expect you to drop like that; maybe the link with that doll worked so well because it was anatomically corr—"
I didn't get the chance to finish the sentence. Kravos screamed and took my dream self by the throat. It felt real. It felt completely as though he had me, his weight pinning my weakened body down, his fingers crushing into my windpipe. My head pounded. I struggled against him, futile and reflexive motions—but to no avail. He kept on choking me, the pressure increasing. Blackness covered my dream vision, and I knew that he would hold it until he was sure I was dead.
People who have near-death experiences often talk about moving toward the light at the end of the tunnel. Or ascending toward the light, or flying or floating, or falling. I didn't get that. I'm not sure what that says about the state of my soul. There was no light, no kindly beckoning voice, no lake of fire to fall into. There was only silence, deep and timeless, where not even the beating of my heart thudded in my ears. I felt an odd pressure against my skin, my face, as though I had pressed into and through a wall of plastic wrap.
I felt a dull thud on top of my chest, and a sudden lessening of the burning in my lungs. Then another thud. More easing on my lungs. Then more blows to my chest.
My heart lurched back into motion with a hesitant thunder, and I felt myself take a wheezing breath. The plastic-wrap sensation tugged at me for a moment, then lifted away.
I shuddered, and struggled to open my eyes again. When I did, Kravos, still holding my throat, blinked his eyes in shock. "No!" he snarled. "You're dead! You're dead!"
"Susan's giving his real body CPR," someone said, behind him. Kravos whipped his head around to look, just in time to catch a stiff cross to the tip of his chin. He cried out in startled fear, and fell off of me.
I sucked in another labored breath and sat up. "Hell's bells," I gasped. "It worked."
Kravos struggled to his feet and backed away, staring, his eyes flying open wide as they looked back and forth between me and my savior.
My savior was me, too. Or rather, something that looked a very great deal like me. It was my shape and coloring, and had bruises and scratches, mixed with a few burns, all over it. Its hair was a wild mess, its eyes sunken over circles of black in a pale, sickly face.