“Yes, it’s really okay,” I told Joel.
“You agree, then?” Fell asked.
“Yeah. Can you keep my soul or whatever it is out of his grasp? Killing my mortal body won’t be enough.”
“I can try. I might need to make a container.”
“Good,” I said.
“I’ll go wrap up.”
I nodded. I turned my attention to Maggie. “Futon okay?”
■
My hands were paralyzed, one wrapped around the handle of the Hyena’s sword, spikes sticking through the flesh and out the back of hand, thumb and fingers, too painful for me to let go of it. The other hand was tangled by the locket and the cord that surrounded the imp’s book, fingers bent back out of position. When I moved, it had been a jerky, frustrated movement, the length of the sword, the pain, and the weight of the sword and book all frustrating my attempts to interact with the world.
My arms were cracked open like a hard plastic doll, and all that was within were feathers of mixed, dull colors, sticking to one another.
I couldn’t move fast enough to catch up to anyone. I was too tired, too gaunt, an old man in a young-looking body, and the objects bound to my hands were too awkward to allow me to open doors easily or even walk through a crowded area without banging them on something.
I couldn’t close my eyes, because something black and monstrous slithered beneath the surface every time I did.
When I breathed, it was like I was having the heart attack again. The air I spent was air that I couldn’t replenish by any means. I was deflating, losing substance.
There was nothing to do but stand there, too tired to move, arms spread like I was crucified, or a bird in mid-flight, staring at Rose and her gathered summonings, with Pauz perched on her shoulder.
I somehow knew that words would cost me more of that vital substance than I could afford to spare. I knew, too, that nobody would listen.
I stared until my eyes watered, because the idea of blinking was too terrifying…
The water in my eyes became welling moisture, and the resulting tear that fell from my right eye was black and heavy. I could feel the tendrils and tiny clawed feet reaching out from the tear, rasping against my cheekbone.
I stirred, and for a moment, the feeling of the blankets around my legs was reminiscent of the tendrils. I kicked at them, frantic.
I gasped like I was coming up for air, or bouncing back from another ghost-induced heart attack.
Holy fuck, fuck me, fuck. I’d had more nightmares than I could hope to count over the years. I couldn’t recall any that were more horrifying in the light of day.
A small sound escaped my lips as I lay there, panting, trying to convince myself that the infinite space that lurked just outside my field of view wasn’t some vast residence for the sliver of abstract demon that had found its way into my eye.
“Blake.”
I startled at the sound.
“Are you okay?” Rose asked.
Her voice, quiet, was eerie, in this time and place. I could see her as she’d been in the nightmare.
When I’d seen Midge, I’d known Midge was a bad fit for Rose.
There was more to it, though. I’d also had a suspicion that Rose had picked Midge for a reason. She’d taken my place in the world in the dream. I was the monstrosity there, not her.
I was the doer of our pair, the warrior even, by necessity more than because I was suited to it. Rose was the thinker, the scholar with access to the books.
Midge… Midge would maybe have been be Rose’s warrior in my place. Making her less reliant on me. Supplanting me.
Not quite so extreme as it had been in the dream, but supplanting me all the same.
It wasn’t a comfortable thought.
“You were watching me sleep?” I asked. I’d tried to sound like I wasn’t suspicious, but I was pretty sure I’d failed.
“Evan said you were having a bad dream. I came to make sure you were okay.”
I followed Rose’s gaze. Evan was perched on my headboard.
Silent, I sat up. The idea of sleeping any further was a dim fantasy now. I sat on the edge of the bed in only pyjama bottoms, breathing hard.
The light outside my window suggested we were on the cusp of dawn. I could hear the street. Life, activity, people going about their day.
“Do you want a hug?” Evan asked.
Evan was one of the only people who didn’t make me feel slightly panicky when he touched me. But then again… “I don’t think you can hug me, can you?”
He hopped up onto my shoulder, and I did everything I could to keep from picturing his taloned feet as some eerie parallel to the claws I’d felt scraping against my cheekbone.
He reached his wings forward to touch the front and back of my neck.
“This doesn’t work,” he said, sounding a little frustrated.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
He hopped down with a brief flutter, then resumed ghost form.
He hugged me with arms that couldn’t touch, just putting his arms in the right place.
I looked at Rose and saw her looking away.
This scene, a little boy hugging a half-dressed adult, might have looked a little weird.
The oddness of the situation put a small smile on my face. It was a distraction from the odd, dark pressure of the dream, and that did a lot to help.
“Thanks, Evan,” I said.
“I don’t know what else to say or do,” he said. “It doesn’t seem right that you don’t get a hug or reassurance when you’ve had bad dreams.”
“Part of being an adult, I guess,” I said.
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe you’re right. Don’t worry about it. I’m not a huggy person.”
“Okay,” he said. He sounded doubtful.
I stood and approached the window. Evan, returned to bird form, settled on my shoulder.
“I’m glad you got a chance to sleep,” Rose said. “I think maybe I feel less tension now that you’re in a better place.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like there’s less question of where power is needed, so it can just flow.”
I nodded. “How’s your chest?”
She touched the place where she’d been cut. She’d changed tops, and wore something with a collar more like a dress shirt, a cameo pinned over her heart. “Healing. Or… not even healing. Healing implies a natural process. This isn’t natural.”
I nodded.
I stared down at the city streets, watching the first people coming and going, heading off to work and school. Most people in this neighborhood were students.
“Mom and dad never hugged me much,” Rose said.
“No,” I said.
“I’m kind of angry at them. Or at fake-them, if you will. That they didn’t prepare us better for the world.”
“There’s hardship that leaves you stronger, and there’s hardship that leaves you weaker.”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, more to fill the silence than anything.
“There are good things too,” Evan said. “Good things that make you weaker, and good things that make you stronger.”
“True,” I said.
“Um. So maybe instead of standing here in the dark, we could do one of the good things that make you stronger?”
“Evan’s bored,” Rose said. “He woke Maggie up to turn on the television so he could watch something.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “Yeah, we could do something like that, maybe. Just let me get my bearings here. The quiet is nice, and it’s going to be a scary day, I think.”