Sing Sweet Nightingale (20 page)

That was what he told me years ago—that he had found a weakness in the border because he’d long been the most powerful of his people and that the weakness recurred every twenty-four hours in my world. Every 480 days in his. So small no one else would be able to find it or be strong enough to use it.

Swallowing, I make myself say it. “You said no one else could bring people here.”

“Perhaps I underestimated my kin.” He shakes his head and tries to smile, but he’s still too tense.

I take his hand and hold it tight. “Orane, if Hudson… Shouldn’t I try to get him to realize he’s putting this world in danger by hinting about it like that? It doesn’t seem like he knows.”

“Has he spoken of being here?” Orane’s eyes blaze for a second, lighting up like neon bulbs. “Or
told
you he knows this place?”

Remembering Hudson’s exact words… “Well, no. Not
exactly
, but—”

“Then leave it to me to sort out,” he says, stroking his hand over my hair. His eyes return to normal. The motion is soothing, and my eyes close more with each touch. When Orane speaks, his voice is more dulcet than usual. “This boy is dangerous, and I do not want you to come to harm.”

Hudson? Dangerous? I thought so at first, but he’s been nothing but nice. Weird and a little prescient, but nice. I shake my head and the motion of Orane’s hand halts.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous, just lost.” I force my eyes open, fighting against the heaviness falling over me. “I think he needs help, Orane. Can’t we bring him here so you can explain things to him?”

Orane’s eyes darken. Not as deep as last night, but the soft violet dips closer to the color of the twilight sky above us.

“Mariella, why are you so concerned about this boy?”

“Why are you
not
worried about him?” I can’t understand how he’s taking this so calmly. “What if he’s told other people, Orane? What if someone else knows about this place? What if they tell the wrong person, someone who remembers the old stories? How can you
not
be worried?”

He strokes my hair again, his eyes deepening until they’re almost black. I try to blink, to move my head, to breathe. I can’t. I’m locked where I am, held in his gaze as though he wrapped his arms around me and held me here.

“I will take care of everything.” His voice echoes inside my head, and each word gets louder until it drowns out my ability to think. “You do not need to worry about a thing.”

His words become a weighted yoke draped over my shoulders, pressing me to obey. The more I resist, the heavier the order becomes.

Why
is this happening? My vision blurs and my chest burns as a vibrating energy passes through my head. More than a vibration. A chime.

Holding onto the note, I grasp the thread of energy I found last night. The tighter I grip that energy, the louder the chime gets until finally—
finally
—light bursts in front of my eyes.

Colors sway and swirl. I take a breath as my eyes slowly close. Shaking my head and forcing my eyes open, I try to talk, but the words won’t come. What was I about to say? We were talking about Hudson and he said not to worry… Oh!

“Telling me not to worry doesn’t mean there’s nothing to worry about.” Orane’s eyes narrow and I know he’s going to argue with me, so I cut him off before he can. “I’m not saying Hudson is dangerous, but he might lead to trouble if we’re not careful. He could—”

Orane’s hands tighten on my back and my head, and then his lips lock against mine.

This doesn’t feel like a kiss. There’s none of the warmth or the comfort. This is like being smothered, trapped against a rock and unable to move. His arms, always so supportive, are now restraints. Trying to fight makes his grip tighter. I’m being crushed, and even though I’m searching for help, for an escape, all I can see are his eyes. His eyes are the same deep purple as storm clouds at midnight.

“Do not worry, Mariella. Let it all fade away. I will take care of everything.”

I grasp for anything that might help me escape. For a second, I feel a thin thread of energy. I hear a chime. But then it slips through my fingers and all I have is silence and darkness.

I fall and fall and keep going until I can’t remember anything but the darkness and the purple eyes glowing far above me.

Seventeen

Hudson

Saturday, August 30 – 11:20 PM

When I get back to the house, Horace shows me where the stones he bought earlier are soaking in bowls of salt. Dawn put each type of stone in a separate bag and labeled them all. Horace ripped the labels off and laid them on top of the salt.

I shake my head. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before.” The bowls are everywhere, spread out across the entire kitchen.

“You weren’t exactly lingering when you burst in earlier.”

True. I’d stayed at Mariella’s as long as I could. That project with the boxwoods took most of the afternoon, and afterward I’d talked to Dana for a while about what she wanted to use to replace them. I barely had time to shower and change before we were due at the Teagans’ for dinner. And I was too busy planning a way to sneak more stones upstairs to check out Horace’s kitchen.

After we brush the salt crystals off the stones and lay them out on the cracked countertop, we try to figure out where to put them all.

“Probably would be best all in one place after what happened last night,” Horace says as we stand back and stare at the rainbow of stones laid out in front of us.

“I’m not leaving you unprotected, Horace.”

Horace snorts. “I’m not trying to be all noble. I ain’t a saint, kid. I’m talkin’ about putting them all somewhere we’re
both
spending the night.”

I think I like the idea of Horace left open and vulnerable better. At least alone, there’s a chance that the demons might pass him by. In the same room as me? The chances of passing the night without a visitor are low. Like winningthe-lottery-and-getting-struck-by-lightning-on-the-
sameday
low.

“I don’t know.” I rub my thumb over one of the scars on my palm and try to think of some other solution.

“Boy, I wasn’t really giving you a choice,” Horace says. I look at him and know I’m toast as soon as I see the steely glint in his eyes. “You need protection, and this is what we got. You either pile it all in my room with that mattress I bought you today, or you dismantle my bed and bring it down here. I ain’t sleeping if I’m gonna be worrying about the house burning to cinders around me ’cause of one of your friends visiting in the middle of the night.”

He picks up some of the stones and carries them upstairs. I don’t bother arguing. He already knows he’s won.

With what he bought and the few extras I have stored in my car—the ones waiting to find their way into Mariella’s room—it
might
be enough. I hope it is. It won’t only be my life on the line tonight. It’ll be Horace’s, too.

My mattress barely fits on the floor after we pull his entire bed away from the wall. Every stone and crystal in the house is set up in a circle around us, one touching the next all the way around.

Horace is asleep on his bed, but I’m sitting on my mattress with my back against his footboard, waiting. The seconds tick past like a countdown, each one thudding through the house with the metronomic rhythm of a grandfather clock. Slowly, midnight approaches. It’s a little like being tied to train tracks and watching an express train barrel toward you, knowing you can’t escape. And that it won’t stop.

The stroke of twelve gets closer.

And closer.

I tense, my gaze darting across the room for the first sign of the portal.

There’s a few seconds left.

My phone beeps—my midnight alarm.

Every muscle in my body contracts, and my hand locks around the closest amethyst.

Nothing happens.

12:00:15

I watch the seconds pass on my new phone.

12:00:30

Where are they?

12:00:45

This isn’t right
.

12:01:00

They’re not coming?

I should be relieved. I slowly exhale the breath I’ve been holding, but the tension in my body doesn’t ease. This is wrong. Something is very,
very
wrong.

Why wouldn’t they try again? Mari’s demon knows where I am now. And I can’t imagine Mariella didn’t tell him I visited her again. She might have even mentioned the amethyst I gave her, or the black jade horse. If she did, the demon will know exactly what I’m trying to do. Why would he let it slide? He definitely didn’t pull any punches last night.

Unless…maybe my fortifications kept him out. I look around the room, mentally tracing the protective ring around our beds. Is this what it takes? Is this how many stones I’ll have to sneak into Mariella’s room to keep the demon from getting at her?

I do a quick estimate. There’s about 150 or so stones of various sizes here. Right now there’s sixteen in Mariella’s house. How the hell am I gonna smuggle over a hundred stones into her house? And not just into her house, into her
bedroom
. Maybe now that K.T. knows, she’ll help. Dana is going to be a lot more likely to let K.T. up there than me.

I pick up my phone and check the time. 12:08 AM.

I roll my shoulders and relax. The witching hour—or the witching
minute
, I guess—is over. Guess Mari’s demon had more important things than me to take care of tonight.

Crack!

Orange light floods the bedroom, and I grip the amethyst geode so tight the edges cut into my skin. The stones pulse with energy of their own, glowing in shades of purple, green, and the white light that emanates from the jet and black jade. Almost as though they’ve become bioluminescent. Like last time, a bolt of bright orange energy shoots out of the wall like lightning and straight at the center of my chest.

I dive to the side, but the bolt never reaches me. As soon as it hits the ring of stones, the pulsing light rises up out of the stones and creates a domed arch over our beds. Because the stones make a complete circle, I only have to touch one to control the flow of power. They’d work well on their own, but I can reinforce them and strengthen the protection in the spots that need it most.

The energy I’m pulling in from the real world races through my body like an electrical current, but it doesn’t burn like the dreamworld. Although it’s draining my own energy, the ache is bearable. And the chiming tone that rings through the air buzzes through my body on its own frequency, spurring me on and keeping me balanced.

The bolts of orange light crack against the shield, warping it but not breaking through. Wherever the two clash, a burst of blue fireworks explodes. Each bolt is like a cinder landing on my chest, but compared to the agony of the acid-like burning last night, this is nothing.

I haven’t heard a peep from Horace. God, I hope the old man’s okay. I want to check on him, but I can’t take my attention off the shield.

The chime changes pitch, and the sound grates against my ears, building in volume and pressure until something bursts behind me. Shards of crystal slice into my arm, a shockwave of sparking energy rolls over me, and I wince as a section of the shield above my head begins to fade. The orange bolts strike faster.

No!

Gritting my teeth, I breathe in, pulling energy from the world around me, energy most people never feel. I’m almost grinning from the strain. What would Calease think if she saw me using her power to protect myself from the rest of the demons? I pull it through my body, pouring more of my own energy into the shield. Another stone shatters. And another. Each explosion sends out a blast of power that pushes the orange light back, but whoever is attacking me tonight is a lot stronger than the demons I’ve faced before. They push right back.

The constant pressure and pounding energy are too much for these smaller stones to take. They’re buckling under the assault. And so am I.

Another stone shatters. The light of the shield fades further, faster and faster with every second. The shield is disappearing, but the bolts have stopped as well.

As the orange light folds in on itself, crawling across the ceiling and the walls like fog, a voice hisses inside my head. The same one I heard last night.

“You will not take what is mine, boy,”
he says.
“Run now, or I will turn my full attention on you.”

The light vanishes. The shield drops. With a final pulse, the light fades from the crystals.

I collapse onto my mattress as the world fades to black.