A Sliver of Shadow (22 page)

Dreamer
…
you have the power
…

I blinked back the tears, blurring the scraps of honey-colored hair hanging from the naked skull and the shattered
brainpan, pushing outward, stretching the bubble, willing things to be how
I
meant them to be. How I needed her to seem, whole and unflawed.

Her flesh rippled, a cocoon of silver enveloping the edges of her cheeks, as though I might knit skin and bone, muscle and sinew and delicate tissues, a hidden memory of the soul beneath.

“Why?” She breathed the word, but it sounded clearer this time, lips solid and plump. I glanced up as the halo of her eyes receded into the piercing blue of youth. A flicker of recognition sparked there.

And still I didn’t know how to answer the question. Why was she there, in my dreams? Why had she died?

“I don’t understand,” I murmured finally.

“Why do you keep me here, Abby?”

Guilt tore at me, my knees shaky. “I don’t mean to. I don’t know how to let you go.” The sharks circled below us, frenzied in a flash of whitecaps and salt.

“Ah,” said the shade in a somewhat disinterested tone. “Mortal memories, made flesh for your amusement.”

“No,” I told her, swallowing hard. “That’s not it. Or at least not what I intended.” I reached out. “Mother?”

“As you remember me to be,” she agreed, taking my trembling hand. The skin was warm and smooth, alive beneath my fingers. She rubbed her thumb gently over my palm in her old way.

“I remember this,” she breathed. “I remember you.” A frown slid over her face. “But I don’t remember how I got here.”

She paced away from me and toward the dunes, pulling me along. Her grip was surprisingly strong, constrictive. A niggle of warning brushed the back of my mind.
Careful what you invite into your Heart
…

And the truth of it was that this was
not
my mother. No
matter how much I might have wished it. She was merely a memory, a nightmare made flesh in my Dreaming. I pressed past the thought, unsure of how long I could hold her in this form.

“Why didn’t you tell me who my father was?” I couldn’t quite keep the brusqueness out of my voice; the strain of weaving the Dream to her image was making me weak. A thread of anger crept into the words, wondering at the need for such secrets.

“I didn’t know, at first,” she said simply, turning those brilliant eyes upon me. I fought the urge to pull away from her. There was no warmth of her previous existence within. “And then, when I had you, he left. It was to protect us, you see.” Her voice dropped low, the way it had when she had something important to tell me. Odd. After all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to overhear us, was it? Like whispering to someone on the phone while you’re alone in your house. But I took the bait, anyway.

“Protect us?”

“From the Queen, of course. Jealous thing.”

I stopped abruptly. “You knew the Queen?”

“Tom would never allow such a thing. But he knew the Queen wouldn’t be happy if she discovered he’d gotten me pregnant. So he stayed as long as he could, but in the end he had to go.” A sandpaper sigh escaped her. “I miss my Tom.”

“And you were
okay
with this?” The mother I remembered had been gentle, sure, but never one to just let someone roll over her. For the life of me I couldn’t imagine her doing anything so … so timid.

Focus, Abby
…

And yet, what was I supposed to do? Come out and ask if dear old Dad had left her the Key to the CrossRoads? Assuming she even knew what it was. I wouldn’t have hesitated if it this was my real mother, but a brightness sparkled
in the depths of her eyes with something far more predatory than had been her wont.

I had to be casual about it. Careful. “I don’t suppose he left us a memento? You know, something for us to remember him by? After all, I’d like to get to know my roots.”

Her hand reached up as though to play with something around her neck and I knew I’d hit on the right topic. “There was a necklace. He gave it to me when we were courting. In a small velvet box, if I remember …” Her voice became dreamy, and I winced at the naked longing within. “Silver, with a large jewel. He never did tell me what sort of stone it was, and I could never quite figure it out. It seemed to change from day to day. I meant to get it appraised once, but I always seemed to get distracted.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Glamoured, of course. I stifled a shiver. Whatever was going on here had been a long time in the planning, leaving me and my mother in the cross fire.

And it was seriously starting to piss me off.

For all that my father was supposed to have the gift of prophecy, he would have a lot to answer for, assuming I ever managed to find him.

“What happened to it?”

She frowned. “Funny that you ask. I could have sworn I was wearing it … but I can’t seem to find it. I can’t imagine I would have misplaced it like that. I loved my Tom, you see.”

“Is this it?” I swallowed hard, pulling the amulet from under my shirt to show it to her. Her fingers caressed it gently, thumb stroking the stone with a hint of possessiveness.

“Ah, yes.” She took a closer look at it. “It seems to be broken. It used to sparkle like mad—a brilliant blue glow. That’s too bad.”

My heart sank and I sighed, realizing I’d hit another dead
end. My heart twisted at the thought of raising her memory for nothing.

My arm brushed something cold and I looked up. We were standing outside the iron gates. They were closed and glittering with their own silvery light beneath the rust. The edges of my old home, my Heart, gleamed through the trees in the distance, beckoning to the soft comfort within.

“Won’t you invite me in?” I glanced at my mother sharply, the wheedling tone very unnerving. I swallowed hard, a warning bell ringing through my mind. It was so tempting to let her pretend to be what she once was, but it would be a lie. A pleasant one, at first, but even I knew it would mean my doom. If I brought her shadow further in, I’d never be able to let her go.

“I might be able to fix your necklace if you let me in,” she continued. “It’s missing a spark.”

The gate pressed into my spine. I’d retreated before her.
Giving ground,
my inner voice noted. A piece of paper flickered in the corner of my eye and I snatched it up. Something was scrawled on the back in Ion’s neat script.

No regrets.

I crumpled the note in my fist, terror and sadness banding over my heart. “No,” I whispered. “I can’t.”

“But you’ve brought me so far already,” she persisted. Her hand tipped my chin up so that I was forced to look at her face, requiring me to deny her directly.

“It’s as far as I can take you, Mom.” Something hot blurred my vision, scorching down the side of my face. Her gaze became curious as she captured it, turning her fingers to peer at the crystalline softness of my tears.

“And yet you still weep,” she said wonderingly. “Was it so very difficult, my death?”

“You wouldn’t remember.” The wind picked up around me, whispering its song of despair and I knew I wouldn’t be
able to hold on to the Dreaming for much longer. Without Ion here, I would plunge into nightmare. That I’d managed as long as I had surprised me as much as anything.

She stared off at something I couldn’t see. “I remember a car and you. And then … nothing. And yet, here I am, day after day.”

My knees started to buckle and I grasped the gate in support. The metal burned, lancing heat up my arm. Something fluttered to my feet in a golden heap.

Her hair
…

Her grip tightened around my wrist, the knuckles suddenly brittle and pale. I knew before I looked up what I’d see, but I did anyway, trying to school my features into blandness at the balding head, the way the flesh sloughed off to reveal the moon-round skull, the mangled mouth, the dulling eyes.

“I remember,” she sighed, leaning forward to brush my forehead with the remains of her lips. “Death is a funny thing sometimes, the way it happens. But it’s not the going that’s the sad part, Abby.” She pressed something hard and gleaming into my hand. “It’s the leaving.”

I choked on a sob, the wind whipping around us with a sudden howl. I could taste the sea on it, echoed with a rotting odor beneath. My mother crumpled into a small pile of bones, my name nothing more than a dusty whisper as the gate opened behind me. Gasping, I tumbled backward, clutching my mother’s parting gift as the Dreaming disappeared into a misty fog of dried leaves and darkness.

I clawed my way to the surface, coughing abruptly, to find Talivar lightly slapping my face. “Wake up, Abby,” he growled, frustration sharpening the tautness of his mouth.

“I’m awake.” I curled into a ball on my side, as he stroked the hair away from my eyes.

“You were crying.”

“I found her.” I curled up tighter, my hand clutched to my breast. “She wanted to come inside my Heart.” My lip trembled as the tears began to spill again, the words rolling bitterly off my tongue. “I couldn’t do it. Sonja and Ion both warned me against it … but it was so hard.”

His thumb rubbed over my lower lip. “Brave warrior. You have the courage of a lion.”

“I don’t feel brave.” I pushed down on the bed to sit up, exhaustion making my limbs tremble, hardly hearing Talivar’s sudden intake of breath.

“Holy shit!” Phineas reared. “You’re glowing, Abby.”

“Not Abby. The amulet.” Talivar reached gently for the necklace. In the dimness of my bedroom light, the jeweled center winked with a silvery-blue shimmer.

“She gave me this,” I murmured, eying the crystal with a certain wariness. “I think it was one of my tears.” It shifted in the twilight with its own inner brightness … now a sapphire, now a bloodied ruby, fading into a diamond …

I blinked at it. “Mom wasn’t all that informative, but she did say it was missing a … spark.”

“I suspect perhaps this ‘spark’ was inside you all along,” Talivar said quietly. “You just needed to know it was there and have a way to draw it out.”

“No.” I twiddled the amulet between my fingers. “The magic was trapped between worlds. My mother died here, but my dreams were keeping some part of her alive. I had to let her go before it would work for me.” My throat constricted against the truth of the words and I knew I would most likely never see her there again.

“Hell of a way to go about finding it.” A sharp bark of hysterical laughter escaped me. “You’d think these mystical gewgaws would come with directions or something.” I held the crystal up to the light, watching the play of colors scatter
over my palm. “Never mind that. Do you think it will work?”

Phineas leaned forward to sniff it. His horn brushed the gem and a pure chime rang out. His ears flattened. “There’s really only one way to find out.”

I looked at the clock, sighing when I saw the time: 5
A.M
.

Talivar pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go on back to sleep. I’ll contact the others and tell them we’ll meet them at the Judgment Hall in a few hours.”

I thought of that pile of bones outside the gates and shuddered. “I don’t know if I can.” I shook my head at them. “No, I’ve slept enough. Besides, the sooner we open the Door, the happier everyone will be.” My eyes flicked to the window, the dim glow of false dawn hovering behind the blinds.

“Time waits for no man.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “Or prince.”

He eyed me gravely, a tight smile creasing his lips. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

M
y brother is an ass.” Sonja rolled her eyes before hugging me tight. “And I’m going to slap him upside his thick head next time I see him.”

“Thanks. I guess.” Her wings wrapped around me briefly, tickling my nose with their softness. The Judgment Hall swirled around us with energy, a mass of tired bodies and anxious glances. I caught a few familiar faces in the crowd—Didi the pixie in Barbie pink, a pair of undines, a cluster of angels—visitors to the Midnight Marketplace and friends from the Hallows. Finding Sonja here to see me off was a nice surprise, though, all things considered.

She’d been caught in the backlash the same as the rest of the OtherFolk, but had been unable to make it back to the Dreaming without getting to the CrossRoads first.

“Stubborn prick always did need to figure things out for himself. But men are stupid.”

My mouth quirked. “So you’ve said. Are you sure you won’t come with us?”

“No. I’ve no dealings with Faerie and seeing as you’ve already got a way in, I think I’m going to sit this one out.”
Her dark eyes became troubled. “As much as I hate that bastard Maurice for what he did to us, I’m just as happy to leave what happens to him up to Moira.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t called to testify as to what he did.”

“I was. I didn’t go.” Her nostrils flared at my expression of surprise. “Don’t judge me, Abby. The Fae may think they’ve got the right to demand their answers, but it’s my people’s blood that allowed it to happen. I don’t want to know how he did it … and I don’t want anyone else to either.”

I looked at her pinched face and nodded. If things were different, I might have pressed, but we had bigger issues at hand and she’d clearly made up her mind.