The Last Dream Keeper (11 page)

I don't believe that's the case,
Lyse thought.
Maybe no one has considered this, but what if The Flood is just stronger than us?

Even
she
didn't like to think about that, but it was an idea she hadn't been able to shake. The Flood wanted to own their world. To do so, it would have to wipe the covens off the face of the map. She didn't one hundred percent understand their motivation . . . but she knew that discovering this key piece of information would be integral to defeating them.

“Shall we?” Daniela said, her words a gentle nudge to get Lyse moving.

“Yes,” Lyse said, and took a deep breath.

The moon had risen high above them, the moonlight making it easier for Lyse to see what she was doing.

“So let's make this happen,” Lyse said, shaking out her shoulders and rolling her neck back and forth like a prizefighter.

Daniela snorted.

“You planning on taking a run before we work?”

“I don't know why I feel like I'm about to start a triathlon,” Lyse said, and smiled.

“You'll be great,” Dev chimed in.

“Don't worry,” Daniela said, clapping her gloved hands together in excitement. “No swimming will be necessary.”

Lizbeth shot Lyse a secret smile. Even though she'd gotten her voice back, Lizbeth was still judicious about what she said, weighing the necessity of each word before she spoke.

“I call the protective circle now, right? To reconsecrate the ground?” Lyse asked, ninety-nine percent sure this was correct but wanting a little reassurance.

“Yes, now would be a perfect time to call the cardinal elements,” Arrabelle replied evenly, as if she were speaking to a small child. “Now that we've added more protection to the grove, we'll reconsecrate the circle, and then we can start the Releasing Ritual.”

Lyse opened the box of matches she held in her hand and plucked one from the inside, lighting it. It flared to life with a sulfurous spark, and she cupped its flame with her hand to keep it from going out. She walked over to the first candle, a fat pillar with alternating white and canary-yellow swirls, and lit its wick.

“We call to the powers of the Air,” she said as she held the guttering candle. “To Wisdom and Intuition. Be with us this night.”

The others intoned their part of the call and response:
“Be with us tonight.”

A gust of wind blew through the clearing, tendrils of cold air encircling Lyse as gooseflesh pimpled her arms. She stood back up and grinned.

“Well, that wasn't too bad.”

“Three more to go before we start patting ourselves on the back,” Arrabelle said.

“Okie-doke,” Lyse said, moving to the second candle and kneeling beside it.

Another fat pillar, but this one was made of striped blue-and-white beeswax.

“We call to the powers of the Water,” she said, striking another match. “To Love and Fertility. Be with us tonight.”

“Be with us tonight,”
the others intoned in unison.

They repeated the call and response twice more, using a red-and-white candle to signify Fire, and a green-and-white pillar for Earth. These two joined Water and Air to complete the invocation of the cardinal elements. With that done, Lyse began to say the spell that would reconsecrate the circle of protection:

“The cardinal candles have been lit—”

Another powerful gust of wind shot through the branches of the eucalyptus trees, the leaves rustling like whispering children. A number of the tea lights inside the pumpkin lanterns went out, but the moonlight more than made up for the lack of candlelight.

“Just the Santa Anas,” Dev said.

Daniela wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

“Let's hope that's all it is.”

Arrabelle nodded to Lyse.

“Go on.”

The wind picked up again, cold air rushing through the circle and nipping at the cardinal candles, almost as if it were trying to extinguish their light. A chill set in, one that had nothing to do with the weather.

Lyse realized her teeth were chattering.

“Keep going,” Arrabelle said, eyes imploring Lyse to continue. “We're not good until you finish the spell.”

“But you said we were safe here—”

“It is . . .
mostly
safe,” Daniela added. “Just finish it, Lyse.”

Lyse nodded and bowed her head, her body shivering uncontrollably.

“We cast out . . . anything unwanted . . . from the circle—”

The wind lashed at Lyse as she went on with the invocation. It was like a living creature, tearing through the trees and swirling around the women as they fought to remain upright. The wind whipped hair across faces, yanked on hems of dresses, its insidious fingers pinching and prodding, battering at them without end.

Anything to stop them from finishing their spell.

A lone howl ripped through the air, and Lyse's blood froze, time seeming to stop as the eerie sound ricocheted through the park. Every hair on Lyse's body stood on end as the sound, a constant in every one of the nightmares she'd had as a teenager, gripped her brain, making her want to sprint into the trees, leaving her blood sisters alone and the circle unconsecrated.

“Say the rest of the damn spell!” Arrabelle yelled over the screaming of the wind.

“But you guys have to repeat after me—”

“Just finish it, dammit! It doesn't matter if we don't call it back to you,” Daniela cried. “C'mon, here. This wind isn't a coincidence. Close the goddamned circle, Lyse!”

Another stygian howl echoed through the clearing, but this one was different. It belonged to a creature that was smaller and weaker than the first one, its song one of desperation and terror, not aggression.

This second cry wrenched at Lyse's heart.

It came again, that same piteous howl. Closer now, and followed seconds later by a cry from the first creature—the one that had instilled terror in Lyse's heart during all those nightmares.

“There're two,” Lyse cried over the sound of the wind, turning toward the edge of the circle and pointing out into the woods. “Can't you hear it?! The weaker one's in trouble. It needs our help!”

“No!” Arrabelle called back to her. “Don't leave the circle . . . you're not safe out there!”

She took one step toward Lyse, her foot stepping just outside the bounds of the circle, and she froze in place.

“Arrabelle?”

Eyes wide and imploring, she stared back at Lyse.

“Don't touch her,” Daniela called out to Dev as she started to move toward Arrabelle's frozen form. “She's on the edge. You touch her and you'll be sucked in, too.”

Daniela turned to Lyse.

“Don't go outside the circle. Whatever you do.”

Lyse nodded.

“Okay.”

The wind licked at Lyse's back, pushing her forward as if it were encouraging her to venture outside the protected circle and disappear into the deep, dark woods . . . though Lyse doubted she'd make it two steps before something nasty came calling for her. An evil creature lurked in the shadowy depths of the woods, and she was glad her baser instincts for self-preservation were keeping her rooted to the ground where she stood.

“No!” she yelled up at the sky, hoping whatever was out there would hear her. “I'm not falling for your trap. But I
am
closing the goddamned circle—”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth then her dress came flying up around her waist, the wind circling her like a cyclone, pushing her dark hair into her eyes and mouth. With flailing hands, she fought back, but she wasn't strong enough.

“Lyse!”
she heard Dev scream.

The wind shoved her with inhuman hands and she fell backward, her head hitting the ground as a starburst of pain shot through her brain. She gasped, the throbbing intense, but then she felt a pair of hands grasping her shoulders, pulling her back into the circle.

No, they were pulling her
out
of the circle!

She wanted to cry out for help, but her voice was gone, locked away so she couldn't access it. Cold fingers wrapped around her living warmth, sucking away her energy, leaving her paralyzed and unable to escape. She fought to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt sewn shut. With superhuman effort she was finally able to tear them apart, and the night sky slipped into view above her. The swaying branches of the trees, their boughs laden down with the remnants of the twinkling pumpkin lights, acted like a proscenium arch, emphasizing the grinning face of the harvest moon.

No, it wasn't the moon at all, she thought; it was a monster.

She screamed as a misshapen jaw and two bulging yellow eyes drifted above her, a string of drool dangling inches from her face. She closed her eyes, trying to banish the image, pretending the creature was not touching her. But she could feel its fingers digging into her skin, its will bullying her into submission.

“No!”
she cried, opening her eyes to stare into the creature's ravenous yellow gaze.

She'd never seen anything so hideous. It was humanoid in shape, but with ropy red scar tissue belting its corroded gray skin like a corset. Bits of its rotten flesh flaked off onto Lyse's face as it grinned down at her, and she shook her head to keep them out of her mouth and nose.

“You're not in your circle anymore, witch,” it said as flecks of foul-smelling saliva rained down on her, making her gag.

She shuddered, disgusted by the stench of its breath—which strongly reminded her of raw meat left out to sour in the sun—and sensing her revulsion, it threw back its head and howled in pleasure. The creature's howl was followed by a string of maniacal laughter, which chilled Lyse to the core of her being.

After all the years of nightmares, Lyse realized she'd never actually seen the face of the monster that had stalked her in her dreams . . . until now.

The spell,
she thought.
I have to finish the spell.

She opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Only a moment before, she'd been able to scream, but now her lips were frozen solid. She racked her brain, trying to think of a way to counteract the creature's power over her.

“Don't let it drag you out of the circle!” she heard Dev scream, but the words sounded like they came from a thousand miles away.

Lyse turned her head, fear dawning on her as she realized most of her torso was already outside the circle, bits of ash
clinging to her hair. The creature was trying to drag her out of the circle and into the trees—and God knew what it would do to her if it got her out there. For now, it could only dominate her with its will, using magic to lock her words inside her.

Outside the circle,
she thought,
all bets are off.

In her peripheral vision, she saw a flash of movement. Dev and Daniela were holding on to Lizbeth, trying to prevent her from coming to Lyse's aid.

“Lyse!” Lizbeth cried as their eyes locked.

Let me go,
Lyse thought, wishing she were a telepath.
You're the last Dream Keeper. You're the important one. We're supposed to be looking after you, not the other way around.

The monster seemed to read Lyse's thoughts and replied by digging harder into her shoulders, its fingers pressing through flesh and muscle to get at the bone. Its face hovered over hers, scarred skin and pale yellow irises now only inches away. She turned her head, wishing this were a nightmare and not her reality.

This was it, her life ending before it could really begin. She imagined the creature biting down on her cheek, tearing into her skin, its foul breath enveloping her.

She began to cry, silent tears running down the sides of her face.

I'm sorry, Eleanora,
she thought, a strange sense of calm settling over her.
I've failed you. You were so wrong to have left all this at my door. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't save anyone . . . not even myself.

It would be easier to remain calm if she didn't have to see the monster coming. She closed her eyes and waited to meet her death.

Hands encircled the soles of Lyse's feet, and their warm, human touch woke up something deep inside her, a small kernel of power that moved through the rest of her body, setting her on fire. The creature howled in pain and released her, its fingers blistered from touching Lyse's heated skin.

Lyse closed her eyes and whispered the last two lines of the spell, her body free now that the creature's hold had been broken: “And we draw together our power here in this protected circle with the promise it shall only be used in good works. Your blood is our blood.”

Though she could not see them, Lyse heard the others murmur their reply:
“Your blood is our blood.”

There was a bright flash of white light as the magical wards flared into life and the circle was reconsecrated, the evil banished—for now—from their sacred grove.

Lyse had beaten death, her life saved by the soles of her feet. But she was unconscious at this point and had no idea that the monster hadn't eaten her, after all.

L
izbeth could feel the creature's fury like a live current, its anger electric. It reached out to Lizbeth through Lyse, her friend's inert body a conduit right into the creature's mind, but then the connection was severed, and Lizbeth pulled Lyse's unconscious body back into the circle.

The creature was repelled by the current of magic, an electric-blue light that emanated from the circle, creating a wall of power both she and the creature could see—and that the creature could not cross.

Lizbeth wasn't scared of the beast. She'd been inside its mind long enough to know it was here against its will. Forced to do The Flood's business when all it wanted was to be put out of its horrible misery. It had been a man once, a member of The Flood's army, but its sacrifice to the cause had been too great. Its scarred and broken form was the payment it received for its service. A test subject that had volunteered for the honor, but had not understood the depth of what it was signing up for.

Lizbeth blinked back a wave of images. Dark places that
gave way to fiery infernos and then stark, sterile rooms with cages full of . . .

She couldn't see farther. The connection had been broken too soon. She sighed and looked back at the beast where it paced outside the circle, hungry and alone.

As the blue light began to fade from the circle, the creature let out a desperate, inhuman howl and bounded off into the woods. Lizbeth watched it go. Her pity for the beast was endless.

“Lizbeth, you could've been killed,” Dev murmured as she knelt down beside her.

Lizbeth didn't want to upset the others, but she'd known as soon as she'd seen the creature that once she touched Lyse, she would be able to overpower its magic. What her blood sisters didn't seem to understand was that Lyse's proximity increased their powers exponentially. This was what Thomas had been trying to tell them back at the Mucho Man Cave. Lyse was a hybrid, but more than that, she was like a signal booster for their individual talents.

“Dammit, LB,” Daniela said, anger tingeing her words.

Lizbeth looked up, surprised to see Daniela wiping away a trickle of blood from one of her nostrils.

“What happened?” she asked, and Daniela raised an eyebrow.

“To my nose?” Daniela asked.

Lizbeth nodded.

“You.”

“What?” Lizbeth asked, confused.

“You pushed me out of the way to get to Lyse, and that's when my stupid nose started bleeding.”

Daniela's empathic powers are getting more and more out of control,
Lizbeth thought.
Just another example of the result of Lyse's presence.

“I don't understand,” Dev said. “One minute we were reconsecrating the circle and the next . . .”

Arrabelle had collected herself enough to join them. She looked the worse for wear, but the encounter had kicked some fire back into her.

“What the hell was that thing? I've never seen anything like it before.”

“A monster The Flood created,” Lizbeth said. “It should be pitied, though. It didn't want to be here, but it's under their control.”

“What
thing
?” Daniela asked. “What're you talking about?”

“There was nothing there—” Dev started to say, but Arrabelle interrupted her.

“I'm not fighting anyone on this. I saw it and so did Lizbeth—”

Lizbeth tuned the argument out, wanting a minute to think. She needed to process what she'd seen, understand how it was visible to her and Arrabelle, but not to the others. And Lyse couldn't comment because she was still unconscious.

Lizbeth pulled the hem of her dress up, knotting it between her knees like a makeshift sarong, so she could move more freely. She didn't like the red dresses, found it too tempting to the fates to wear a color so reminiscent of blood.

“It's because we were out of the circle. Arrabelle and Lyse and then me when I touched Lyse.”

Actually, Lizbeth had seen the monster even before she'd touched Lyse. She didn't have an answer for how that was possible, so she kept the information to herself.

The others stopped arguing and looked at Lizbeth.

“I'll buy it,” Arrabelle said, giving Lizbeth's answer some credence. “It makes sense. The circle wasn't fully reconsecrated, but we'd called up enough magic that we were partially protected.”

Lizbeth picked up Lyse's hand, curling her fingers around her friend's wrist and giving it a squeeze. The skin was so cold to the touch that Lizbeth wished she had a blanket to drape over Lyse. Dev took Lyse's other hand, rubbing it in between her palms to try to warm it up a little bit.

“She okay?” Daniela asked.

Lizbeth touched Lyse's cheek.

“Can you hear me?” she asked.

Lyse wrinkled her brow, eyelids fluttering as she began to stir.

“Wake up, Lyse,” Dev said, stroking the crown of Lyse's head.

“The circle . . .” Lyse murmured, forcing Dev and Lizbeth to lean close to hear what she was saying.

“It didn't break,” Dev said, smiling down at her. “You were outstanding.”

Lyse tried to get up, but Lizbeth saw she was too weak to manage it herself, and she and Dev helped her into a sitting position.

“It's gone?” Lyse asked, eyes focused on the edges of the circle, searching the darkness.

She thinks it's still out there,
Lizbeth realized.

“It took off when you finished the spell,” Lizbeth said, trying to assuage Lyse's fear.

Lyse nodded.

“Okay. Good.”

“Because you closed the circle,” Dev said smiling, “and reignited the wards.”

Lyse took a deep breath, gathering her energy.

“Well, we still need to finish the ritual,” Lyse said, crawling onto her hands and knees. “For Eleanora. So she can be free—and I want to do it now.”

There was a power in Lyse's words the others could not argue with.

“The cardinal candles have been lit. Let's finish what we started,” Arrabelle said, kneeling beside Lyse. “What are we waiting for, ladies? You heard what Lyse said. Lizbeth, go get the urn, please?”

They'd cremated Eleanora, and what was left of her physical body had been placed into a small brass urn that was now sitting in the grass beside the stone altar. The plan had been to do the Releasing Ritual, then spread her ashes here in the grove, allowing her spirit to move on to the next plane, if she so chose.

“I'm in,” Daniela said. “But once we're done, I want us out of here.”

“Agreed,” Dev said.

Lizbeth picked up the urn, and it felt heavier than she'd
expected, the brass cold to the touch. She carried it into the center of the circle, where Lyse was sitting. As she joined them, she felt a calming presence fill the grove. It was like Eleanora was already there among them, waiting.

Lyse motioned for Lizbeth to hand her the urn, and Lizbeth realized she'd been holding it so tightly her fingers were white with tension. She watched as Lyse set the urn down in the grass, placing it dead center between the women. She took the moment to look each of her blood sisters in the eye, acknowledging that they were all in this together. She got up and, her gait still unsteady, walked to the stone altar, picking up the two white candles she'd lit earlier. One for each hand. She rejoined the circle, holding the candles out in front her, their flames guttering in the chilled air.

“We call upon the Goddess and her light to help our friend, Eleanora Eames, pass into the next realm.”

She tipped both candles forward, so a few drops of wax dripped onto the urn.

“We release her from this plane and bless her with safe passage to the next realm,” Lyse finished.

She passed the candles on to Dev, who was on her right.

“May she be blessed by the Goddess on her journey,” Dev said, some of the wax spilling onto her fingers as she dripped it over the urn.

She handed the candles off to Lizbeth and began to pick the cooling white wax from the top of her knuckles.

Lizbeth's eyes were attracted to the twin flames, each dancing upon its wick like a tiny ballerina.

“The Goddess releases you from all of your earthly duties,” Lizbeth said, dipping the candles too far forward, so that some of the wax missed the urn and landed in the grass.

“Sorry,” she said, and handed over the candles to Daniela.

“Freedom is yours, Eleanora Eames, if you really want it. You have been the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone—you have experienced the triple goddess in every incarnation,”
Daniela intoned as she repeated the ritual and gave the candles to Arrabelle.

“Do you really think I'm gonna bow out now when you need me the most?”
Arrabelle's mouth was moving, but the words and voice were not her own.

“Eleanora? Is that you?” Dev asked, and Arrabelle rolled her eyes in a physical affectation that was pure Eleanora.

“Of course, it's me. I told you I wasn't going to curl up under the house like some dying old cat.”
Once again, the face was Arrabelle's, but from the animated way her features moved, the brow furrowing in good-natured consternation, it was clear that Eleanora was in charge.

“I'm not going. Releasing Ritual be damned. And you”
—Arrabelle/Eleanora turned on Lizbeth, glaring at her—
“you could've been killed. They know we're here and they know one of you is the last of the Dream Keepers. Don't disobey the others. Listen to Daniela when she says that they need to look out for you.”

“I wasn't going to be taken,” Lizbeth said. “I knew what I was doing.”

She wasn't going to let herself get hurt—and no way was she going to stand there and let something terrible happen to Lyse and Arrabelle. Not if she could help it. She knew how to take care of herself. She'd been on her own for most of her life, and no one had taken care of her then. They'd just thrown her in that horrible psychiatric facility where she'd been totally alone, forced to fend for herself.

Lizbeth's brain sensed something was different in her thought process. At first, she wasn't sure what it was, but then she realized she'd never been able to go down this avenue of thought without her whole person shutting down. Never before had she been able to tolerate thinking about the past. Specifically about the psychiatric facility her father had placed her in after her mother died. Just the smell of the cleaning disinfectant they'd used at the facility could send her into a mental meltdown, but now all of that had changed.

It was as if the two parts of her mind had finally fused together and become one. No longer was the child brain in charge of her, and it never would be again. Not now that the adult part of her possessed all the power.

The past was the past.

“Don't look at me like that,”
Arrabelle/Eleanora said, interrupting Lizbeth's train of thought.
“We're just trying to do what's best for you, dammit.”

Lizbeth opened her mouth to reply, but Lyse beat her to the punch.

“Eleanora,” Lyse said, changing the subject. “You're free to go on to the other side. Don't stay here for my benefit—”

“It's not just for you, my sweet Lyse,”
Arrabelle/Eleanora said.
“It's so much bigger than that. Hessika and I stay behind as Dream Walkers for a greater purpose. You will need us and we are here for you.”

It was true. Hessika had stayed behind partly to save Lizbeth's life.

The very first night she'd been taken to the institution, she'd cried herself to sleep only to be woken up by the most magical creature she'd ever seen: a giant lady with fluffy strawberry-blond hair and eyelashes as thick as beetles' legs. Only later did she realize it was a dream, but that didn't matter. From that night forward, Hessika's dreamlands appearances were the only thing holding Lizbeth's sanity together.

“Eleanora—” Lyse said, but Arrabelle/Eleanora merely shook her head.

“It's my choice, and my choice alone to make.”
Then Arrabelle's face went slack as Eleanora's spirit vacated its host body.

Then every candle within the circle extinguished itself.

Lizbeth knew the possession was over. Eleanora had made her choice and she, for one, would make sure her wishes were followed. To that end, she picked up the brass urn and held it tightly to her breast.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the night.

Thank you, Eleanora and Hessika.