Sing Sweet Nightingale (23 page)

Horace’s soft snores are the only sound in the room after a while. K.T. tries to stay awake, but exhaustion wins eventually and she drifts off to sleep. She collapses into a ball, curling around her pillow and clutching it tight.

Midnight passes. Twelve-thirty passes. One o’clock. It’s quiet, and I’m the only one awake. I can’t get K.T.’s question out of my head. It echoes back and forth. It creates a great soundtrack to the memory of Mariella wrapped in those burning chains.

Even if K.T. and I can get her to listen, what then? How can I fight against a demon who wipes her mind every night? How can I fight someone I can’t
get
to?

Two-thirty and I haven’t come up with an answer. I’m starting to drift off, ready to let myself get the little bit of rest I need each night, when the orange light floods the room.

“Leave now or I will see you wiped from the face of this planet, you worthless creature,”
the demon says.

K.T. jerks in her sleep, her face scrunched up. When the first bolt strikes the shield over our heads, she sits up, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“Oh my God!
What?
” she shrieks.

I shake my head and keep my hand on the closest amethyst. Explaining will split my concentration too much.

The demon sends a barrage of energy against us. Bolts hit fast as machine-gun fire, and I grit my teeth, shoring up the stones with my own energy as much as I can.

When the shield begins to warp, a surge of strength enters the ring.

I glance up. K.T. is kneeling on the other side, her hands on a chunk of malachite and her eyes closed. With her hands on the stones, I’m able to use her energy, too, pulling from her as much as she can give. We only lose three stones before the attack finally ends and we both collapse.

“How did you do that by yourself before?” She’s panting for breath and pale, but we’re both alive. Right now, that’s all that matters.

“I don’t know. How did you know to touch the stones?”

“Didn’t. I copied you.”

I nod and drop my head back to the mattress. It was a smart move. Brave, too. A lot of people would’ve screamed and cowered until it was over. Because of her help, I can keep my eyes open after one of their attacks for the first time.

K.T. swallows and turns her head to look at me. “Do you really think we can save Mari?”

I glance at her but can’t meet her eyes for more than a second.

More than anything, I want to be able to tell her yes and mean it. Really mean it. Maybe it’s that stupid “white knight” thing rearing its head, but it bugs the hell out of me to think I might fail at this. That I won’t be able to come up with a way to save Mariella.

It’s not about what happened to J.R. right now. For the first time, I’m not thinking about him when I think about getting into the dreamworld. I’m thinking about Mariella wrapped in those chains, and the trust in K.T.’s eyes when she asks me that question. Even so, the best I can do is tell her the truth.

“I don’t know.”

Twenty

Mariella

Monday, September 1 – 9:18 AM

I almost think I could handle
two weeks
of my life disappearing if I could figure out why I’m hallucinating noises! And of all the noises to have jumping through my head, did it have to switch between glockenspiel tones and microphone feedback?

On top of that, Orane’s gifts are all glowing exponentially brighter than I’ve ever seen before, so bright it’s giving me a headache. It makes the bedroom seem too small, like the light is taking up space or the walls are creeping closer each second. I’ve been jumpy and jittery since I woke up at eight this morning—
eight!
I haven’t slept that late in years!

I have to get out of here.

I run downstairs and out to the backyard. I take a deep breath, savoring the scent of cut grass on the warm breeze and—

Wait…what happened to the boxwood bushes? Tiny plants now line the side of the yard once cut off by thick boxwood bushes. And they look fresh.

Grinding my teeth, I look away. One more thing I don’t remember.

As I turn away, I see a huge pile of branches and leaves. The missing boxwoods. A memory flashes—blond hair and dark eyes and a smile that sneaks out when he thinks no one is looking. I saw that face earlier, too, when I touched the purple stone sitting on my nightstand. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know anyone that tall…do I?

Digging my hands into my hair, I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

I don’t know the answer to that question.

Do I know him? I didn’t two weeks ago, but did I meet him since then?

My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. What the hell kind of good will crying do?

Dropping my hands, I breathe in fours like Orane taught me. It’s stress or something. Stress over
what
, I don’t know, but something. It has to be. The memories will come back. Orane will help me figure everything out.

I head toward the hammock my parents set up during the summer, but something sparkly catches my eye before I reach it.

Walking closer to a tree, I see a golden chain with a tiny nightingale pendant, a miniature of the nightingale sitting on my nightstand upstairs.

I smile as I reach out for it, tension easing out of my body. How does Orane always know when I need him? He’s never left anything for me outside my bedroom before, but he must have known I would come out here today. Or maybe it’s been out here waiting for me.

As soon as I touch the chain to lift it free of the tree, Orane’s voice fills my head.

“For you, my nightingale. Wear this and think of me, as I will be thinking of you.”

I can smell the lavender of his world and feel his lips brush against my cheek. I bring the nightingale closer to my face to get a better look.

Unlike my other gifts, this one is not empty. Inside the glass is a softly swirling silver mist, and bobbing along in the current are dozens—maybe hundreds—of tiny golden pinpricks of light. Some are brighter than others, but they all swirl in and out of the fog. It’s like watching fireflies dance on a foggy night.

I unclasp the necklace and clip it in place. The pendant is cool against my skin at first but it warms up quickly, and I can’t help smiling when I place my hand over the charm.

Warmth washes over me. My lungs burn slightly, as though I’ve been holding my breath for too long. Blinking, I shudder and the warmth begins to recede.

Looking around, I try to remember why I came out here. It’s a pretty day, but I need to find some new music. Something special to thank Orane for such a perfect gift.

Inside, I hear voices coming from the living room. One of them is my mother, but I don’t recognize the second.

“A memory book
and
a slideshow? You always were ambitious, K.T.,” my mother says. “I’m sure I can find something.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Teagan. I don’t know where most of my pictures went.”

I peek into the living room as my mother hands a book to a curvaceous girl with brown hair.

“Here. You look through that one, and I’ll check this one.” My mother sits down and starts flipping through another book. A photo album, I think.

Not wanting to get sucked into whatever project they’re working on, I slip upstairs and into my room. It’s already after eleven. I don’t have much time if I want to prepare something special for Orane tonight.

I smile and gently stroke my fingers along the nightingale around my neck. A gift of love that I can carry with me everywhere. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. And I have to find a way to say thank you.

Twenty-One

Hudson

Monday, September 1 – 8:44 PM

Without an official invitation to dinner, Horace forces me to stay home Monday night.

“Make yourself a nuisance and they won’t let you in the door,” he said. As much as I hate staying away, I know he’s right.

This will be the first time since we’ve met that I go an entire day without seeing Mari. Not seeing her for a day shouldn’t bug me this much. But it does. About the same amount as worrying about what her demon has done to her in the meantime.

It’s on my mind all afternoon. As K.T., Horace, and I sit there eating takeout, my thoughts are a couple blocks away, wondering what Mariella is doing. And how she’s doing. And if she would remember me if I walked into her house right now.

“I had an idea.”

Staring at K.T., I wait, but she doesn’t say anything else. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“We have this mentor program at school.” K.T. picks through her lo mein. “New students are paired with someone in a few of their classes to give them a guide for their first week. You’re in honors with Mari and me, so I pulled some strings and made myself your mentor. I want to trick Mari into doing it.”

Horace and I raise our eyebrows at the same time, but he says it first. “Seems like that ain’t something she’s gonna agree to easily.”

“Who says I’ll give her a choice?” K.T.’s lips curve into a smile I’d almost call diabolical. “I plan on telling her that refusing means doing a thirty-hour community service project and a five-page paper. She wouldn’t care about the paper, but I don’t see her wanting to go out into the world and be civic-minded.”

It’s a decent plan, but it’s not without flaws. “What if she opts out?”

“We come up with something else.” K.T. shrugs and runs a hand through her brown hair. “I didn’t say it was a
perfect
plan. Just a plan.”

“What if she forgets she’s agreed?”

Before K.T. can consider an answer, Horace says, “Have her sign a contract.”

K.T. and I both stare at Horace. He glances between the two of us, his forehead creased.

“What? It’s obvious to me. Show someone their own signature on a contract and the fight tends to go out of ’em quick.” He grins, and his eyes light up. “Trust me. It’s a trick I’ve used a time or two in my life.”

“A contract,” K.T. says. It takes a few seconds, but that diabolical smile slowly spreads across her face. “I can write a contract. I can even print it on letterhead from the office.”

Horace grins at me. “I like the way this one thinks.”

I nod and let out a slow breath. Yeah, I do, too. I just hope it’s enough.

To keep people from asking questions—like the
not
-boyfriend Danny—or spreading stories that might get back to her parents, Horace drives K.T. to school in the Camry and I drive the Camaro. If anyone asks, K.T. can say he’s a friend of her family. We both doubt anyone will ask.

“Today is going to
suck
,” K.T. mutters, sipping at the coffee she picked up on the way to school. There are circles under her eyes, and I know the lack of sleep from last night is hurting her today but it could be worse. They could have attacked last night.

I don’t want to scare her, but they still could.

I
thought
the doorways only opened at midnight, but that was obviously what Calease wanted me to think. That danger is why I dumped a bunch of stones and crystals into K.T.’s purse before she left the house and why there are a bunch more in my backpack. Horace has the rest.

If we don’t get more stones today, I don’t know what I’m going to do. K.T. was barely able to convince her parents to let her sleep over at her “friend’s” house last night. She’s not going to be able to pull it off a third night in a row. She has to go home, and I’ll have to send her off with at least half of the stones I collected. Half isn’t going to protect either of us.

We’re standing near the entrance, waiting for Mariella. We got here early so K.T. could print out our “contract” and make sure we don’t miss Mari’s arrival. Now, we’re wasting time as kids straggle onto campus. Ten minutes before the bell, Dana’s black SUV pulls up.

“Showtime,” I say, nudging K.T. to make sure she’s awake.

She nods, taking another sip of coffee and hanging back as I jog over to say hi to Mrs. Teagan. Dana grins when she sees me and rolls down her window.

“Morning, Hudson! How did you and Horace fare for dinner last night?”

“Fine. Takeout Chinese.”

Dana cringes. “Can’t have been better than ‘fine,’ then. We don’t really have a decent Chinese place in this town.”

“It was all right.” It was awful, but that’s not what I want to talk to her about. I glance at Mariella, who is watching me through narrow eyes, and smile. “Hey, Mari.”

She flinches when her eyes meet mine, but when her mother glances over at her, she picks up one hand and jerks a wave at me. Dana’s eyebrows pull together and her mouth opens, but I cut her off.

“Dana?” When she looks at me, I give her the good news. “Horace really liked the plans, and he wants to get started on the restoration as soon as possible. Could you let Frank know?”

“Oh! Really? Well, that’s wonderful!” Dana beams and pats my hand where it’s resting on the door. “Do you both want to come for dinner again tonight? We can celebrate over my famous lasagna.”

I’m watching Mari, so I notice her reaction when her mother invites us for dinner
again
. Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare.

She’s been wiped clean. Mari doesn’t remember me, or Horace, or any of it.