Night Terrors (Sarah Beauhall Book 4) (39 page)

“The scarf was mom’s,” he said. “Katie loved it more than anything—carried it night and day after they disappeared.”

I smiled at him. He had a soft gooey center after all.

“And the bear.”

He just looked at me without saying another word.

I turned away. Of course it was hers, but he wanted it to be his secret, what the hell.

We stashed our packs and my saddlebags in the supply cabinet and closed the door before gathering around the mirror. Skella had it opened and ready to a point that looked like a reflection of the classroom, only with some oddities on the walls and a long wispy spirit floating against the far wall of the Sideways room.

I looked back in this world, looking for the equivalent in our world, but didn’t see anything. Not like there was always a correlation.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said.

We were a ragtag bunch. Once we stepped through the mirror the lights went out, and Bub screamed.

Fifty-seven

“It’s quite simple,” Frederick said, nodding at Mr. Philips who poured coffee into the cup at Sawyer’s elbow. “I had a plan in place, a contingency in case one of my brethren took it upon themselves to remove me from the game.”

Stuart waved Mr. Philips away from his cup, instead he picked up his water and took a sip. He’d had two cups of coffee with breakfast and he didn’t want to confuse the taste with the image of Sawyer. Right now, the taste of coffee went quite well with his vivid memories of Qindra sitting naked in bed eating strawberries while they talked.

Qindra had already made a cup of tea and was sipping it when Mr. Philips returned to the table and took out a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket.

“A daughter?” Qindra asked.

Stuart wasn’t sure why this was an important point, but Qindra knew her business.

“Yes,” Sawyer said, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “A conceit, perhaps, but one I am willing to pay the consequences for.”

“What are your intentions, then?” Qindra asked, setting her cup on the table and picking up a thin chocolate wafer.

Mr. Philips leaned over and said something to his master that did not escape their general orbit. Qindra watched them, her exquisite face a mask of serenity and calm.

The fact that Sawyer had somehow hatched a daughter was disturbing news. There had to be huge political play in motion here. Was he making a move on the Vancouver, BC territory?

“I have not decided yet,” Sawyer said, finally.

Mr. Philips leaned to the side once more, but Frederick waved him back. “I know my own mind,” he said to the stoic man.

Mr. Philips sat up straight and crossed his hands in front of himself, covering the small notebook and pencil under his manicured hands.

Qindra turned her teacup around, facing the handle toward her and kept her eyes focused exclusively on Sawyer. “Will you foster her, then?”

She was a cool one, but what did she mean by foster? Like sending the kid for someone else to raise? What would that entail?
Stuart thought.

“I will not send flesh of my flesh to the great sow as a prisoner, if that is what you imply.”

Qindra picked up her cup and took a demure sip, her eyes never leaving Frederick’s. “And what of the …” she paused, “egg donor?”

This was a game they played, Stuart realized. This balance and feint, parry and thrust.

He cleared his throat. Parry and thrust made him think of their evening, and his face felt suddenly too hot.

The other three looked at him.

“Does she have to be fostered with another dragon?” Stuart asked. “We have quite the menagerie out at Black Briar. Maybe you’d want to send her up our way to raise.” The idea was a stroke of brilliance. Sarah would love it and Jimmy would come unglued.

Qindra raised her eyebrows and pursed her mouth. Interesting idea, it said to Stuart. Mr. Philips remained stoic and unfathomable.

“Are you mad?” Frederick asked, turning his gaze to Stuart for the first time since they’d arrived.

Stuart looked at him, saw the fire in those ancient eyes. Despite the well-appointed look and the clean and modern office, he had no doubt that Frederick could destroy him where he sat, before he could react, without a single iota of remorse.

“Sarah protected you,” Stuart said with a shrug. “Saved your life and refused to claim you for her own. I don’t think you can overlook that.”

Qindra winked at him, and the corners of her mouth turned up briefly. Neither Mr. Philips nor Sawyer noticed as they were staring at him as if he’d just grown a second head.

“You dare,” Sawyer began with a sputter. “You imply …”

Mr. Philips leaned forward. “Are you suggesting there is a debt here?” he asked, flipping to a blank page in his notebook and jotting down several words that Stuart could not read. Code perhaps.

“Call it what you want,” Stuart said. “I don’t know why you can’t raise your own child, frankly.” He looked at Qindra who did not respond.

“But if you really need someplace to have her looked after, I don’t think you’d find a better group of folk to keep her safe and sound.”

Sawyer sat back, scoffing. The look on his face was one of utter contempt.

“Your input is noted,” Mr. Philips said, then turned to face Qindra.

“The girl is safe where she is. We both know there is no rush to make any decisions at this time. Her safety is not currently in jeopardy and there will be no internal house conflict until such time as she comes of age.”

“She’ll have her own territory at that point,” Sawyer said, his voice tight and his anger barely concealed below the facade of proprietary.

“Of course,” Qindra said. “As I said when we arranged for this meeting, we are here simply as a courtesy. Our conversations at the young Montgomery’s funeral called for a follow-up in my mistress’s mind, and here we are.”

She sipped her tea, watching Sawyer, the mask affixed with natural aplomb.

“Please tell your mistress that her concern is noted,” Sawyer said, sitting forward once more.

Nidhogg had stood over Sawyer’s fallen form at the end of the Chumstick battle. Kept the Trisha dragon from killing him. He owed Nidhogg as well as Sarah.

“Nidhogg sends her warmest regards,” Qindra assured him. “Things have shifted in the kingdoms of late, and Nidhogg would count you as friend rather than foe.”

Sawyer nodded. “As would I. The whole incident with Jean-Paul has left us all a little on edge. The Reavers seek to undo much of what we’ve accomplished over the last four hundred years.”

“Agreed,” Qindra said, placing her napkin over her plate and leaning back in her chair. “I pray you consider your options with the child.”

“There is much to consider,” Sawyer agreed. “Too many moving pieces to get a good picture of the world today. The blood cult that dared confront us will not be the last, I am afraid. There are other factions, more desperate and radical, who may seek to do us, or our kingdoms, great harm.”

Something about all this was bugging Stuart. He thought Qindra was the cat’s pajamas, but this talk of kingdoms and factions was not happy making.

“Would you join me for dinner this evening?” Sawyer asked, nodding to Mr. Philips who took a note. “You could come out to the house, meet my darling daughter. What say you? Surely the great mother would like a firsthand report. Say seven this evening?”

It was barely eleven now. If they got out of here they could hit a museum, walk the Pearl district, or maybe even hit Powell’s.

He glanced at Qindra. Or see if there were any strawberries left back at their room. He was sure he could think of something creative to keep them busy for a few hours.

“Splendid idea,” Qindra agreed, standing and holding her hand out to Sawyer.

Frederick stood, taking Qindra’s hand, and turned it, kissing her on the knuckles. “Enchanting as always,” he purred.

Stuart squinted at him.
Don’t push it bud.

“Mr. Philips will show you out,” Sawyer said and strode to the great window overlooking the financial district.

“Follow me, please,” Mr. Philips said, coming around the table and motioning toward the door.

Qindra slipped her hand into Stuart’s, causing his blood pressure to rise several points. She had nice hands, firm grip, long fingers.

There was nothing about her that he disliked, he decided. Even her loyalty to Nidhogg. As Sarah had stated over and over—not all dragons are created alike. Maybe Nidhogg was really remorseful of her past and wanted to change things going forward.

Of course, if she wasn’t, there wasn’t a whole lot he was going to do about it anyway.

Qindra leaned in a kissed him once they were on the elevator down to the lobby. “I think we should continue where we left off this morning,” she said, licking Stuart’s earlobe.

“Definitely,” he said. “But at some point I’d like to know what the hell is going on in general.”

Qindra laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Politics, my dear Stuart. The dance of the moneyed class, what those individuals of immense power do instead of making love. They dance.”

“I’m as poor as a church mouse,” Stuart said to her.

A broad grin broke across her face. “Then we shall do what we shall do.”

Fifty-eight

The book flared to life with a flash of bright green light as I peeled back the scarf and grasped the book in my naked hand. The classroom on this side of the mirror was suddenly swarming with crawlies. Skella clapped her hands once and said a word in Elvish I didn’t recognize, but a flash of clean, white light exploded from her, shredding a dozen or more shadow creatures that had materialized around us.

Jimmy and I drew steel while Bub backed against the wall, hissing.

“What the hell were those things?” Jimmy asked, glancing around.

I looked up, making sure there was nothing about to drop on top of us, and pushed a desk aside.

“Some form of eater?” I asked, glancing at Skella.

“Shades,” she said, shaking her head. “Lost souls who are drawn to places of power. Something has been going on here, drawing them to this place.”

“Residual from Katie’s accident?” I asked, walking across to the door to the hallway.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Skella said, drawing a small pouch from her belt and pinching out a bit of shiny dust. “Here,” she said, stepping to Bub. “Unun sent me with this.” She sprinkled a bit onto the top of Bub’s head, and a light flowed over him like a golden cocoon.

“It tickles,” he said, tittering.

Skella smiled and turned to Jimmy. “Could you squat down?” she asked.

Jimmy looked at me once, but did as she asked.

Once we were all adequately bathed in golden light, she put the pouch away and dusted off her hands.

“Why didn’t we do that on the other side?” Jimmy asked.

“It doesn’t exist on the other side,” she said, looking at him like he was an idiot child. “This is magic.”

“What does it do?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Skella looked at me and shrugged. “All I know is that it helps keep you safe when travelling here. Unun wouldn’t talk about all it does. Only that it allows us to see each other and helps mask our emotions as we wander the shadow lands. There are things here that feed off your baser feelings.”

Eaters, crawlies, ghosts, shades, and on and on. “Is there anything here that doesn’t want to eat us?”

Skella shrugged again. “There’s a reason Gletts and I avoided this place.”

Right. Awesome. And Katie had been lost here for going on two months.

We moved to the hallway door, watching for surprises. The hallway was quiet and longer in both directions than they were in the normal world.

“This is strange,” Bub said, cocking his head from one side to the other.

“Emotional distortion,” Skella said.

“Maybe you should write a book,” Jimmy said, facing down one length of the hall, while I faced the other.

Doors lined the hall, but they were dark. To the right in our world there were a couple more classrooms, then an exit out to the playground. To the left was the main body of the school as well as several wings off for more classrooms. The school was like a giant failed Tetris game, with hallways going off at intervals leaving courtyards interspersed throughout. Some of these were roofed, with skylights. Those near the perimeter of the building were open to the outside, like the courtyard outside Katie’s classroom.

Old classroom, I guess. This year was lost to her. I wondered if she’d ever come back here to teach. Made my chest hurt. She’d be devastated.

On the north side of the structure were the central offices and cafeteria. In the heart of the complex was a huge, sprawling library.

Twice we were attacked by shades as we opened classroom doors, but they were easily dispatched. Skella said they’d just reform later so we shouldn’t dawdle.

While Katie’s classroom had been fully rendered, there were other areas that were shadowy or almost non-existent. Places where people rarely gathered. Places of strong emotion—good or bad—were solid as our world.

Several times we paused as Jimmy picked up a hint that Katie had been there. There was a distinct difference from the memories of her etched into this place. The teachers’ lounge had a strong impression of her. The cafeteria had her mark as well, but it was so faint, only Jimmy had picked it up.

“More like the memory of a feeling, you know?” he said.

I wondered if it was the love or the blood. The fact I couldn’t sense that she’d been in a couple of places stung a bit, but they were blood related and knew each other longer.

“There’s a hub ahead,” Skella said after we’d explored the northern half of the school. “Near the middle.”

“That’ll be the library,” I said.

We slowed our approach. There were two large doors ahead, each ornately carved with the figures of dragons.

Bub stepped forward and touched the door on the left. The dragon there flexed his great wings and turned his head toward us.

“Careful,” Jimmy said, taking a step forward.

“Guardians,” Skella said. “They wouldn’t let any of the riffraff inside there, but it could be dangerous,” Skella said. “Place like that has a lot of portals, lots of places to get lost.”