Sing Sweet Nightingale (15 page)

I have to make a decision for both of us. Right now. Is it even possible to make myself stronger? Should I struggle to make myself able to keep up with him, or is it better to step away before the pain of leaving Orane gets worse?

I almost laugh. Worse? There’s no such thing. No matter when it happens, leaving Orane will create a gaping void in my life.

Guess that makes my decision for me.

Soon
, Orane said. Soon may be a few weeks or a few months, but it’s not tonight.

Keep fighting
, I decide. I will keep trying to control this world the same way Orane does. When the time comes for me to leave my waking life behind, I’ll know what my decision should be. If I’ve made significant progress, if I can believe that keeping up with him—
really
keeping up with him—will be possible eventually, I’ll stay and throw myself into learning everything he has to teach me.

If I can’t? If no significant changes happen between now and whenever his “soon” comes to pass…

Well, that will be the night I have to figure out how to live with a broken heart. Leaving him behind won’t just shatter it; it’ll disintegrate it until the few pieces left are small enough to pass through the eye of a needle.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks, his fingers brushing down the side of my face and his violet eyes locked on mine. “I did not mean to upset you so.”

Decision made, I shake my head and wrap my arms around his neck. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Are you sure?” Orane kisses my forehead.

“I’m positive.” I breathe in his beautifully floral scent and, for the first time since I stepped into Paradise tonight, relax.

“There isn’t much time left,” he whispers after a minute. “Will you sing tonight?”

I pull back and smile at him. “Have I ever not?”

At this point, it really is all I can give him. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to think of something special to sing for him tonight. Something worthy of him.

“Well, then, the star needs a gown.” With a sweep of his hands, he pulls on the front of my linen riding shirt. The material rips away and disappears with a poof.

The dress he leaves behind is magnificent.

The large skirt is made of hundreds of pieces of chiffon and crinoline in shades of purple. Hugging my chest is a black corset top decorated with dozens of glittering stones in the same shades of purple as the folds of the skirt. My hair is piled on top of my head in an elaborate pattern of braids and curls.

I love this dress. It comes second to my recent nightingale gown, but this one matches Orane’s eyes. It’s a
very
close second.

As we stroll toward the opera hall, choosing the songs I should perform tonight, my determination grows. With each step I take, I renew my promise to myself. I will make myself Orane’s equal, someone worth his time and attention and devotion. And I will succeed. Or I will die trying.

Eleven

Hudson

Saturday, August 30 – 12:00 AM

Lying in bed and breathing slowly to ease my nausea, I try to dissect that weird-ass tea party dream.

Some of it is obvious. Mariella is stuck in a fantasy world, trapped by the wraith. By her demon. But what’d the cake-throwing mean? And the eighteen candles? They could represent her birthday or the number of months I have to figure this out or something else I haven’t thought of. And the light coming off the candles and the storm—what am I supposed to do with
any
of that? The last dream was pretty literal, but assuming this one will be the same might get me in trouble. I have to figure out how to talk to a girl who won’t say a word.

Glancing at the time on my phone, I cringe. Midnight. The witching hour.

This was when Calease always came for me.

I hate midnight.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I breathe in cycles and clear the worthless thoughts away. I’ll know what to do when I run into it. I hope. I mean, I could always—

Crack!

Orange light floods the room, and I dive to the side as a single spear of energy hits inches away from my head.

“Hudson Vincent…”

My own name hisses through my head in a strange, echoing voice that sends tremors of pain, like electric shocks, through my body. What I felt around Mariella was nothing compared to this. Needles next to a broadsword.

“You do not belong here. Do not think you can defeat me as easily as you did the other.”

I smell something burning. All I know is it’s not me.

The stones are already glowing, pulsing out their protection and shielding me from the worst of the energy, but it’s not strong enough yet to keep me safe. I grab a handful and throw myself into the corner where I left the largest amethyst geodes. The orange light pulses again, and the lightning running across my skin starts to feel more like fast-burning acid. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from screaming. I taste blood.

The stones pulse brighter, reacting to the energy coming from the dreamworld. As soon as I touch them, using one of Calease’s stolen talents and pouring my own energy into the stones, they burn brighter. The searing burn across my body recedes. It only takes a couple of seconds to reach a manageable level, but those seconds are endless. Agonizing.

Keeping my hand on the largest amethyst, I arrange the other stones in a circle around me. The orange light pulses again. This time, the acid burn across my skin barely worsens. There’s a momentary flinch in the light surrounding me, but the shield holds. It shimmers, and the quiet chime I usually hear when I focus on the stones turns into a powerful ringing in the air. The harder the orange light pushes, the louder that chime gets.

Taking a breath, I try to figure out what I can use to close that damn portal. The light is so bright I can’t tell where it’s originating from, but that doesn’t matter. The light means a demon, and the demon needs to go away. Before it makes
me
go away.

The energy fills the room until it’s pressing down on my small, protected space. The chiming gets louder, stronger, until it’s vibrating against my ears. The louder it gets, the more the orange light fluctuates. If I can push it harder, I might be able to push the demon right back where it came from.

I focus on the piece of tiger iron hanging around my neck and pull strength from it. Putting my hands on the wall of purple energy in front of me, I push it outward.

Nudging the stones anchoring the protective shield to move with me, I edge closer to a group of smaller stones. Barely more than chips, with some maybe as big as my fingertips, I might be able to use these as ammo.

The more I move, the more energy I channel into the stones surrounding me. It’s like becoming a conduit is sapping the life out of me, sucking me dry quicker and quicker.

My legs are trembling by the time I reach the stone chips, but my shield holds. It’s buckling as orange streaks appear in the wall of purple and green light, but it’s holding.

Grabbing a handful of the chips, I toss them one after the other straight at the brightest concentration of the demon’s light. I haven’t seen the demon, but I didn’t the other two times either. They don’t like appearing in our world. Or they can’t.

Doesn’t matter. I keep throwing.

The stones zip out of my hands like I shot them from a BB gun. Every time they hit the open portal, the light flickers for a second. It’s not enough. They’re not big enough. I’m not strong enough. And the longer I keep throwing, the less I have left, the more my arms are starting to shake, and the sooner I’m going to collapse.

The light gets stronger, so strong it warps my shield and knocks me to the floor.

I try to get up. My elbows buckle, and I slip back to the floor, my head striking the wood with a
crack
.

One more time I try. One more time I fall.

The light gets brighter. I hear something shatter, and the air sparks as energy rolls across the room. Was that one of the stones exploding? I think so, but I can’t lift my head to look.

That’s it. It’s over. So much for payback. If they’re
this
strong, I never stood a chance.

I hold my breath, waiting for it to stop.

“Mariella?”
I hear the demon say.

The light shifts, beginning to fade. With the pressure easing, I manage to shift my elbows under my chest and lift my head. In the afterglow, I catch a glimpse of a world at twilight, one with a field of trees in a rainbow of colors, a stone building, and the largest willow I’ve ever seen. I smell lavender and hear a horse’s whinny, but it all disappears as the light, the image, and everything else folds in until the portal collapses with a quiet pop.

With no outside energy to keep it active, my force field vanishes. My arms give out, and I barely catch myself before my head smacks against the wood floor again.

I feel like I ran a marathon. Every muscle in my body is trembling, and my lungs burn. Sweat drips off my skin into tiny pools on the floor. The blue glow that always surrounds me is so dim it’s barely visible. Or maybe that’s my vision fading away.

As I fall asleep, I know I’ll need to find a reason to go to Mariella’s in the morning. I hope she’s there when the sun rises.

I doubt she realizes it, but I think she saved my life.

I jerk awake all at once, my heart pounding and my mouth bone-dry. My vision doubles but clears quickly.

It’s over. I survived. And Horace is staring down at me with worry in his eyes.

“Boy, what in the hell did you do to your mattress last night?”

Looking over, I see what’s left of my half-burned mattress on the other side of the room.

I try to explain, but the air running through my dry throat makes me cough. Swallowing doesn’t help. Just makes it worse. Makes my throat burn.

Horace hurries out of the room as I lean against the wall. The exhaustion of what happened last night lingers. My muscles ache and randomly convulse, which makes them ache more. But I’m alive. I can deal with pain. Relief almost makes it feel good.

Horace returns with a glass of water, but it takes a few minutes before I can talk. Explaining what happened doesn’t make the worry on his face clear. His wrinkles get deeper.

“You have all the stones I gave you, right?”

He pulls a silver chain out from under his shirt to show me the two stone pendants hanging there and then pats his pocket, the
clack
of stone against stone assuring me the rest are in place.

It’s not enough. It’s not anywhere
close
to enough.

“Take it we’re heading back to the New Age stores?” Horace asks, eyeing the amethysts around me. The shattering I heard was one of the smaller amethysts breaking into tiny shards.

“Hell yes.” I don’t care what it takes. I am fortifying this house out the ass. Mariella’s, too.

Pulling out my dog-eared copy of
The Book of Stones
, I check out some new options before I call Dawn. Once I’m sure I know what I want, I reach for my phone and stare at the screen. It doesn’t come on. Opening the back of the case and taking out the battery, I huff when I see the blackened circuitry under the casing. Well, shit.

“Can I use yours, Horace?” I ask, showing him the casualty.

“Damn,” he mutters, passing me his phone as he peers into the casing of mine.

I dial the number of Stone’s Throw from memory and wait as it rings.

“A Stone’s Throw From Normal,” an airy voice says on the other end. Definitely not Dawn.

“Is Dawn there?”

“Oh, I’m sure she is,” she says, laughing. “We’re all
there
, my dear.”

I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, and I don’t have the patience to try figuring it out. “Can I talk to her?”

“So direct. Be direct and sure of the path you tread, but not so sure that you pass the paths better suited to your feet, brother.”

I blink and look at the screen. Did I misdial?

“Dawn Breeze? Dawnie, you’ve a caller,” I hear the airy woman call. There’s a clatter and some shuffling, and then a voice I recognize comes on the other end.

“Hello?” Dawn sighs.

“Dawn, it’s Hudson. I came in the other day and bought—”

“Your weight in crystals,” she says, her voice brightening. “You’re not someone I’ll forget in a couple of days, Hudson. Not after a purchase like that. Is anything wrong with the stones? I haven’t gotten in that other order yet.”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I need more.”

“More.” She repeats the word, and then her voice rises to a squeak. “
More
? Like, more-than-I-already-have-ordered more?”

“Yes.”

“Goddess bless,” she breathes.

“And I need different stones, too.” Everything I have right now is concentrated on protection. But if protection doesn’t work, I’ll need something to fight back with. If such a thing exists. Everything I’ve read about these stones so far tells me their natural inclinations are for positive energy and healing. Trying to use them to kick a demon’s ass might not work so great.

“Different. On
top
of the more you’re already planning on ordering?”

“Yes.”

I can almost hear her grinning. “Awesome!”