Into the Dim (35 page)

I looked away. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” he said. His head jerked as Phoebe shouted from the woods.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to hurry.”

With that, he allowed me to drape his good arm over my shoulders and together, we navigated after the others.

Breathless and sweating despite the cold, we finally reached the glade, still oddly bare of snow or a single leaf. I looked back at the path of gore and broken branches we'd left. A blind man could've followed our trail. Once inside the eerie circle of trees, Mom slithered from Bran's grip. Phoebe helped me ease a shaking Collum to the dirt. A whine escaped Mom's clenched teeth, and in the inconstant light, her skin looked bleached. Dead.

“How long?” I huffed.

Collum glanced up at the patchwork of black clouds scuttling across the silvered sky. “Not long now.”

Mom whimpered as a contraction took her. I knelt and gripped her hand. When the pain subsided, she panted. “Hope, listen to me. I have to tell you something. It's important.”

“It's okay, Mom,” I soothed. “Not now. It can wait till we get back.”

“No,” she insisted. “You have to know. It was long ago, but—” Her eyes flew open. Her back arched, and a sound like the cry of a trapped animal ripped from her lips.

“Mom!”

Her lips moved without sound. I leaned closer to listen.

“Something's wrong,” she gasped through lips bleached with shock. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. “It happened before.” When her pained eyes met mine, I sat back on my heels, stunned at the realization.

“What's she talking about?” Phoebe's voice was screechy with fear.

“She lost a baby when I was little,” I managed. “It was bad, Pheebs. And that was in a hospital. We have to get her home.”

Mom's next cry dragged on until I wanted to cover my ears and scream. Tears welled in Phoebe's eyes.

“What do we do? Is she supposed to be bleeding like this?” She gestured to the blood seeping out around my mother's skirts.

I tried to burrow into my memory, to bring up everything I'd ever read about childbirth, but when Mom slumped sideways in a faint, the words scattered.

“I can't do this.” I cradled her head in my lap. “It's too much, Mom. Please wake up. Tell me what to do. I need you.”

I hugged her to me, buried my face in her shoulder, and wept like a child.

Shivering, I felt warmth settle next to me. I looked up to find Bran at my side. Collum moved to kneel beside Phoebe on the other side of my mother's supine body. They didn't say a word, but as they all watched me I could hear them just the same.

We're here. You're not alone.

The back of my throat burned. I'd grown up a mostly solitary being. My grandmother had always, and very deliberately, made certain I never felt like part of the larger family. And though I had my parents, my mother had long ago determined I hadn't the time or need for friends in my life.

Now, as these three people clustered around me, their combined strength bathed me in a warmth I'd never experienced. I'd been weak, a broken and fragile creature. I knew that. But maybe with actual
real
friends beside me, I was learning to be strong.

I nodded and closed my eyes. Years of study began marching through my head in systematic rows. Pain struck in the middle of my forehead, but I ignored it. When I came across a paragraph that matched my mother's symptoms, I flinched and tried to discard it, but it fit too well.

Placenta previa. An abnormal implantation of the placenta at the opening of the cervix. This condition can impede the child's delivery and, left untreated, can lead to maternal hemorrhage. Without immediate medical attention, the condition can cause severe injury and/or death for both mother and child.

My eyes popped open. “We have to get her back,” I said. “Fast. There's no other option.”

I followed Collum's gaze as he read the sky. To the east, there might've been a hint of gray, but would it come soon enough?

Black blood spread out beneath us on the hard packed dirt. Under my knees, my gown sopped it up like syrup. Mom's freckled face looked ghostly, as if she were already gone. My whole life, she'd guided me. Now, when I needed her most, she was far away. Farther than she'd ever been.

The pendant jolted against my skin. My head jerked up, and I saw that the others had felt it too. Somewhere, a thousand years in the future, Doug was fiddling with the dials of the Tesla device, ready to flip the switch and bring us home. The Dim was coming for us.

Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

“The Nonius Stone,” I gasped. “It has be on Mom when the Dim comes, right?”

With his uninjured hand, Collum fumbled for the dagger in his bag, cursing his own stupidity. Phoebe took it from him and unsheathed it. With the knife in my boot, I slashed through the bottom of my underskirt, making a long strip to secure the blade to my mother's arm.

We're going to make it. Lucinda and Moira will know what to do. We'll—

A twig cracked in the forest. Bran leaped up, the two curved swords instantly in his hands. Collum tried to struggle to his feet. When he fell, Phoebe gestured him back and withdrew her knives. Side by side, Bran and Phoebe peered into the darkness.

“A
H
.” H
ER SULTRY VOICE PRECEDED HER AS SHE STEPPED
through the circle of trees. “It seems we are in the nick of time, yes?”

Celia Alvarez's glossy dark hair poured down on either side of her face. Her forest-green gown blended perfectly with the trees as she surveyed the scene before her.

My eyes fastened on the object in her hand. A very small, very modern gun.

She brought a gun?

Phoebe took a step toward her. “Celia.” Hatred burned as she spoke the name.

“No, no.” Her wide mouth turned down into a regretful frown. “Get back, little one. I do not wish to kill Michael's child,
mi querida,
but I will if I must.” She noticed my scrutiny and examined the pistol in her hand. “Anachronistic, I know.” She shrugged. “But a woman must have her useful things, yes?”

With a spatter of displaced snow, the bald Flint slunk from the trees holding another, larger pistol.

Flint grinned when he saw Bran. “Good work, Brandon.”

I flinched. Suspicion danced across my mind, leaving rotting pits in its wake.

Good work?

Bran sheathed his swords and ambled toward Celia. “Hello, Mother.”

“My son.” Celia kissed him on both cheeks. Her victorious smile sent my heart plummeting into my feet. “You've done well. How is your injury? It is good?”

Bran touched his side and nodded. “Fine, Mother.”

“Accidents will happen, my son,” she said, patting his cheek. “Now get their lodestones and bring them to me. We have a long journey ahead, and time grows short.”

Bran nodded. “Of course, Mother.”

Oh, no. Not this. Please, not this.

I tried to catch Bran's eye, but he wouldn't look at me. He advanced on Phoebe, ordering her to kneel. She shot quick glares at the two guns, then spit at Bran, plopping down just behind me. Collum had somehow gotten to his feet. Bran faced him.

“Your ring, MacPherson.”

“You worthless piece of scum,” Collum said quietly. “You'll have to kill me first.”

Bran shrugged. With a sweep of his leg, he knocked the injured Collum's feet from under him and kicked the sword from his hand. It skittered across the frozen ground as Collum crashed onto his wounded shoulder with a grunt of pain.

Overhead, the sky brightened imperceptibly. I heard Phoebe's intake of breath behind me as she felt her lodestone twinge. I felt it too.

Bran knelt in front of me, his back to his mother. “Sorry, Hope,” he drawled. “It's been fun, love. But I'll need that pendant now. And, Phoebe, your bracelet if you please.”

My heart was a mangled thing when I raised my eyes to his. Poisonous words burned on my tongue. But they dissolved as Bran's blue and green eyes seared into mine. He mouthed,
Be ready.

My chest inflated. Relief thrummed through me as I mimed giving him the necklace.

Phoebe, still not understanding, wrenched the bracelet from her arm. “You bloody rat bastard.”

Bran let Phoebe's bracelet drop into my palm, then stood and crammed the imaginary objects into his bag. “Got them, Mother.”

Carefully, I eased my hand behind my back and held it there until I felt Phoebe stiffen, then pluck the bracelet from my fist. Pink and orange flared in the east. It could only be minutes now. We just had to stay alive till then.

“Flint.” Celia sounded amused. “The Nonius Stone is strapped to dear Sarah's arm. Get it for me,
por favor
.”

Impotent rage boiled through me. I wanted to rip her black eyes from her head. I trembled with it as Flint shoved me aside and ripped the dagger from Mom's limp arm. He sheathed it, then handed it to Celia.

“Finally,” she whispered. “Finally.”

As Celia unsheathed the blade, turning it to the last of the moonlight, she gasped and reeled back. Her head whipped toward me, lips peeled back in fury.

And all at once, I knew what had bothered me about the stone back in Eleanor's chambers. I think Hectare had realized it too. The legendary Nonius Stone was reputedly an extremely large and extremely rare
black
opal. This one was white.

I beamed at Celia. “Oops.”

“What is this?” she screamed. “This is not the true Nonius! The Nonius Stone is black as night, with all the colors of the rainbow contained inside. This . . . This is nothing but another lodestone. Bah!”

She slammed the dagger into its sheath and tossed it to Flint. He examined it and whistled a murky white mist. “You're right, boss. It's ancient. Powerful, too. It'll be of use, no doubt. But it ain't the bloody Nonius Stone.” He crammed the dagger into his belt, his wrestler's shoulders bunching as he threw his hands in the air and stomped off toward the tree line. Evidently, he no longer considered us a threat. The gun in Celia's hand rose. It swept the clearing as if she couldn't decide which of us to shoot first.

“It won't work, Celia.” My mother's voice was a pallid croak as she pushed herself to a seated position. “Even if you find the Nonius Stone,” Mom said. “You can't just go back and do whatever you want. You could change history on a fundamental level, and you have no idea what it might do to the fabric of time. You know this.”

Celia stomped toward my mother. Her dark eyes scanned the blood saturating the dirt around her. For just an instant, I thought I saw a flicker of regret cross her features. Then her lips peeled back in contempt. “Saint Sarah. With all your degrees and knowledge, you still haven't brought
him
back, have you?”

Collum made a noise, but I didn't take my eyes off Celia.

“It is
your
fault Michael is gone,” she spat. “If you hadn't insisted on bringing back these stupid brats, he would never have sacrificed himself like that. If he hadn't stepped in front of the blade I intended for
you,
he and I would be together now.” She shrugged. “No matter. When I find the Nonius Stone and my men alter the device, I
will
find him.”

Celia paused, head tilting to one side as she noted the horrified glance Mom cast at me.

Celia threw her head back and laughed. “Oh,
es fabuloso.
Do not tell me you never told your precious daughter the truth about herself? At least I did not raise my son on lies. Brandon knows where he came from, don't you,
hijo
?”

“Oh yes, Mother,” he said. “You've never let me forget that, have you?”

Celia ignored him, looking from me to Mom. “Look at this girl. How she protects you. And still you lie to her. Your daughter, yes,” she said. “But not of your blood.”

A kind of nervousness rolled over me as my mother's voice turned querulous. “Celia, don't. Please. Not like this.”

“Mom?” The shadows that had always covered my earliest memories began to thin and dissipate. Images edged in at the corners of my consciousness.

“You had no idea my father was there too, looking for the good doctor. You didn't even know John Dee held the Nonius Stone.” She stepped closer, whispering the words. “But I did. And I now know who
she
is.” Celia swung the gun toward me.

At the sound of the man's name on Celia's lips, firecrackers exploded inside my head.

Smoke and stamping horses. A frozen forest. Thatched roofs on fire. Shouts in the distance as a man rocked me in his arms. His long gray beard tickled my cheek as he whispered fiercely, “You must run now, granddaughter. There are men here who would take what I've been entrusted with protecting. They are hurting these good people who sheltered us, and I must help them. But do not fret, for I will come after you.”