Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (4 page)

A Grey Lady.

No one else seemed to find her presence odd, so I assumed they waited on all of us. Her features were too blurry for me to really see her face, but I thought she was the same one who had waited for me in the corridor. She was corporeal enough to reach into my closet and pull out a neatly folded stack of black fabric with silver trim. I recognized it as the same fabric I had seen almost everyone wearing. Jack wore pants made of it now. The only person I had seen wearing something different was Miranda, who wore a loose, light blue cotton gown. I had to think her clothes were different because she was pregnant.

The thought of Belial kidnapping pregnant women made me sick all over again. I already had evidence that he had kidnapped a child, too. I wondered what other surprises I was in for.

“We wear a uniform here,” Jack said, disgust lacing his voice, turning it a shade deeper. “Those are Belial’s house colors.”

“I didn’t know demons had house colors,” I said, crossing to the bed to finger my new clothes. They were made of a sturdy fabric that nonetheless felt soft to the touch like a velvet-denim blend, although I knew that was an impossible combination.

“Belial does,” Miranda said, crossing to the bed and motioning for me to sit beside her. “Come now. Let me take a look at that hand. I can do something for it.”

The Shadows had faded somewhat, but they still snaked and climbed up my arms. I didn’t want to hurt the first person who’d been nice to me since I’d gotten here. Jack didn’t count. I was still mad at him.

“Let me take them from you,” whispered a low voice in my ear.

Jack was so close that his hot breath grazed my neck; this wasn’t the only time his presence had caused a reaction in me. I thought about my very first journey to the Twilight Kingdom. It had happened in a dream where he had healed me with his bare hands. And now here we were, except this was most definitely not a dream.

I nodded because there was no other choice. I was too agitated to find the kind of calm I would need to fight the Shadows. Instead, I let Jack find my hands and slide them under his, his hold on me light, but firm. I watched the many tattoos across his arms and neck begin to shimmer. If I watched closely enough, I knew that I would see the edges of them move very slowly. Instead, I stared into his silver-flecked eyes as the sparks there burned more and more fiercely.

Shadows began to thin into lines rather than ropes. They grew fainter and streamed toward the tattoos decorating Jack’s body. I had long since torn my gaze from his face, and watched in both horror and amazement as the tattoos absorbed my Shadows until there was nothing left but my pale arms, decorated with my familiar silver bracelets.

I had a sudden wild urge to hug him, and might have done it if he hadn’t stepped quickly away. “Go and see Miranda,” he urged in a low voice, his eyes fixed on the floor.

I did as commanded. The pregnant woman cradled my Shadow-free arms across her belly, staring intently, but not touching. She nodded and murmured to herself before meeting my gaze. Her clear, crystalline blue eyes were solemn, despite the intensity in them that came with her gifted blood. Their color reminded me of the almost too-perfect hue Dr. Christian’s had, but where his gaze was chilly, Miranda’s were warm and comforting like looking at a summer sky. I felt myself relaxing.

“I can fix this,” she said, “but it’s going to hurt.” She pressed my injured hand flat between both of hers and closed her eyes. An almost unbearable burning coursed through my hand, settling in my very bones. About ten minutes later, my lips were raw from where I had pressed them together trying not to scream. Sweat soaked my skin, plastering my hair to my forehead. Miranda still held my newly healed hand pressed flat between hers. It no longer hurt. I wiggled my fingers in amazement.

She followed by healing the sore spot on my head as well; this wasn’t nearly so bad, but it still burned. After that, I was enveloped in a wave of tiredness. I swayed backward toward the pillows. Miranda smiled a little and covered me with one of the many blankets piled at the foot of the bed.

Sleep dragged me under as strong as the tide on a blue moon. “Don’t worry, it’s completely normal to sleep for several hours following a healing,” she said, smoothing my damp hair back from my face.

“But,” I protested. “I have to talk to Jack…”

“You need to get some rest,” Jack corrected me, appearing at Miranda’s elbow. He leaned down as if to kiss me on the forehead. I wanted to pull away, but I was just so tired. Turning seemed like too much effort. But when he leaned in close to me, he whispered, “Try to dream, and I will find you. We can Dreamwalk back to Whitfield this evening.”

Whitfield.

Ethan.

Home.

I fell asleep picturing Ethan, alone and injured with only mad Asheroth for company. I hoped with all my soul that Jack could Dreamwalk us home, even if only for a little while. I had to find out what was happening to my hometown in my absence.

leep, to my surprise, did come. Eventually.

After the events of the day, I expected to be too keyed up. I had to find Ethan, and that depended on Jack using his Dreamwalking ability so we could find out what was going on in Whitfield. But Jack couldn’t Dreamwalk with me if I couldn’t sleep. It was kind of like being told not to think of blue elephants, and then thinking of nothing but.

Miranda’s slight weight shifted on the bed beside me, and the gentle murmur of her voice rose and fell as she spoke to Jack of simple things: a meal, an absent friend, a half-remembered dream. His answers came as even softer murmurings, almost whispers, and I realized I had at least two friends in this awful place. People who wouldn’t let anything or anyone get me, at least for now. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt secure. I knew I was as safe as anyone could be in this awful place, at least temporarily.

Burrowing deeper into the warm bed, I relaxed and let sleep take me completely. The room around me faded more and more, replaced by that half-awake ethereal state where the physical world vanishes.

Instead, a world of white surrounded me. I held out my hands, palms first; although my new environment looked like a blank canvas, it felt as insubstantial as fog. Far off in the distance, I could see multiple patches of light, scattered haphazardly through the mist, and a few shadowy patches.

“I’ve been here before,” I said, spinning to take in the entire scene. I had first dreamed of Ethan against such a background, warning me of Shadows and their dangers. I rushed to stifle the sharp stab of remorse. It would do me no good here.

White covered everything. I hoped Jack could find me in it. My mind immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario: Belial finding out about Jack’s hidden ability. If that happened, not only would punishment be severe, it would spell the end of any chance I had of communicating with the outside world. I thought of all the people I had left behind. I pictured Hellhounds burning my town to the ground. I thought of Logan in hiding. And of course, Ethan was still at Asheroth’s rather dubious concept of mercy. Shadows rose on my arms, cold and electric.

“You look like you want to murder someone and eat their liver raw,” Jack said, one eyebrow raised high. He had snuck up on me.

I wrapped my Shadow-clad arms around my middle, hoping I wouldn’t blast him with one by accident. I ignored his comment, and spun to face him instead.

He crouched behind me in that way of his: a kind of half-kneel that implied openness, but allowed him to spring at any second. His skin glowed a faint blue as it had each time I’d seen him in the Dreamtime. To my surprise, when I looked down at my own hands, they glowed with same soft light.

“Hey!” I said, feeling a grin start in spite of myself. “We match.”

“And I finally get to shed that stupid uniform,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. It was true; Jack wore the same loose pants I was used to seeing him in, and nothing else. His chest was once again bare as were his feet, and I could see the intricate tattoos that decorated his entire torso. If I squinted hard enough, I could just see the edges shift and move.

The same brief pang of tangled emotions washed over me like they did every time I saw Jack shirtless, which was most of the time. “Where are we?” I asked, to distract myself.

“In the ether,” he said, turning to survey our surroundings. “It’s a place in the collective unconscious between falling asleep and actually dreaming. I’m glad I caught you here; it’s much easier to find individual dreamers this way.”

I digested that, even though I didn’t totally understand it. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What is the Dreamtime, anyway? Some kind of parallel dimension?”

“Been reading science fiction lately?” He laughed. “I suppose that’s as good an explanation as any. I just think of the world like a layer cake— the dreamtime and the ether are just one layer that most people can’t see.”

“You know I have no idea what you’re talking about, right?”

He rose from his crouch and shrugged impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. Just know that it works.” He reached for my hand and flipped it palm-up in his own. Shadows still snaked around my hands and arms. “Want me to get rid of these for you?” he asked, idly tracing a circle on my Shadow-swarmed palm with his index finger. He swept his thumb across my pulse. His touch was casual and quick, but it still made me uncomfortably warm.

“No thanks,” I said, pulling my arms back against my middle. “You never know when they might come in handy. They are supposed to be weapons, after all.”

He looked disappointed, but nodded anyway. Then his expression brightened. “Hey, want to see something cool?”

“I want to go to Whitfield,” I said stubbornly.

“We will, of course we will,” he said. “But this is on the way.”

I shrugged my consent, but began to pull away again when Jack snatched up my hand. “Look, I need to be touching you when we actually travel between dreams.” He sounded as if what he was proposing was the most natural thing in the world.

I slipped my hand back in his, and tried to keep up with his easy loping stride.

“What are those lights scattered around?” I asked, wondering if it was possible to trip in the ether. If it was, I was sure it was going to happen to me.