The Last Dream Keeper Page 30

  “Bell, I’ve tried . . .”

  And he lifted up his shirt.

  Arrabelle gasped when she saw the rotten black wound. It had eaten up Evan’s whole side, digging into the flesh of his stomach and down toward his pelvis. But what surprised Lyse was something else . . . not the necrotic tissue, but the long, thin scars that ran underneath each nipple. Lyse had a friend who’d undergone sexual reassignment surgery, and his scarring had been very similar.

  Arrabelle’s friend Evan had not been biologically born a man.

  “Oh, Evan,” Arrabelle said, shutting her eyes and shaking her head as she realized how bad the wound was. “No, no, no . . .”

  Evan let his shirt fall back into place.

  “There’s nothing we can do except not let my death be in vain.”

  He pulled her to him, and she let his hand caress her face.

  “I love you, Bell. I’m sorry I was too scared to give you what you needed,” he said—and then he leaned over and kissed her.

  Lyse looked away, wanting to give them privacy, and her gaze locked on the two men with guns slowly moving toward them.

  “We have to go,” Lyse said, turning back around in time to see Arrabelle hand Evan something small and wrapped in tissue. Lyse didn’t know what it was, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.

  “Go find Niamh,” Evan said, pushing Arrabelle toward Lyse. “Help her find her sister.”

  He took off, heading toward the men in camouflage.

  “Evan, no!” Arrabelle said, and Lyse had to hold her back to prevent her from going after him.

  “Do what he said. Let’s help Niamh and the others,” Lyse whispered into Arrabelle’s ear. Her friend stiffened and then finally nodded.

  “Okay.”

  Lyse grabbed Arrabelle’s hand and they took off through the lab, bypassing metal surgical tables and threading their way through the rows of computer workstations.

  “This place is a nightmare,” Arrabelle said, and Lyse nodded.

  “It’s hell.”

  Lyse had an idea of where Laragh was being held, but she didn’t know which of the concrete rooms housed Niamh’s sister. She realized that she and Arrabelle were going to have to split up.

  “Those concrete rooms,” Lyse said, pointing to the closest one. “She’s in one of those. Find her and I think we’ll find Niamh.”

  “All right,” Arrabelle said. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  Arrabelle took off, and Lyse did the same. Lyse’s path led her in the same direction Evan had taken, and she was glad Arrabelle had chosen to go the other way.

  Up ahead, Lyse saw one of the concrete rooms and jogged toward it, hoping to find Niamh or Laragh inside, but when she looked through the small window she saw it was empty. It was at that very moment she caught Evan’s reflection in the window, his body moving like a speeding bullet as he ran toward the two men in camouflage.

  Lyse whirled around and began to sprint in Evan’s direction. He was acting like a kamikaze pilot hell-bent on death and destruction—and she didn’t think his life should be sacrificed just yet. Whether he knew it or not, he was going to get her help.

  “Wait up,” she called to him as she picked her way through the maze of medical tables and workstations. “I’m your backup.”

  Evan slowed down but did not stop.

  “I don’t need backup,” he yelled at her.

  The two men with guns were moving forward in stealth mode, careful not to expose themselves to an attack. Apparently, they seemed to believe that Lyse and Evan were some kind of a threat. The idea almost made Lyse laugh.

  “What was in the tissue?” Lyse asked, as she finally caught up to him.

  “Poisoning agent on a dart.”

  “Can you use it on these guys?” Lyse asked as she followed Evan into a crouch behind one of the metal surgical tables.

  “If I can get close enough.”

  “Consider it done,” Lyse said, and stood up, waving her arms at the two men, who were also hiding behind another of the surgical tables.

  “Hey, over here, assholes!” she screamed.

  She felt Evan’s hand on the side pocket of her jeans, trying to pull her back down, but she stayed on her feet, ignoring him.

  “They don’t know what to do,” Lyse whispered down to Evan as across the room, she saw the two men conferring. “I think they’ve been told not to hurt us.”

  “Lucky us,” Evan whispered back, his words dripping with sarcasm.

  Lyse had to agree that death was a far kinder end than getting locked up in one of those god-awful cages.

  “If I had a white flag, I’d be raising it right now!” Lyse yelled at the men. “I give up and I’m unarmed.”

  “Are you crazy?” Evan said, shaking his head.

  “Just trust me,” she whispered down to him.

  He looked as though he’d rather do anything but what she’d just asked. Yet he held his tongue.

  The two men rose from their position slowly and began to move through the maze of workstations. Lyse noticed movement in her peripheral vision and realized that her yelling had woken up some of the women in the cages. They were stirring now, opening their eyes. Some were sitting up, following Lyse’s movements, tracking her with their haunted eyes.

  “They’re waking up,” Lyse said, cocking her head in the direction of the nearest row of cages.

  “I can see,” Evan said, looking around him. “Jesus, they look like they’ve been tortured.”

  “They have been,” Lyse replied.

  More and more of the women were waking up now, and as they came to consciousness, they began to murmur among themselves.

  “They want to help us,” Lyse said, recognizing the sound as the murmuring grew in pitch until it was a driving hum.

  More voices joined in until Lyse could feel the hum racing through her body—and she wasn’t the only one. Evan was feeling it, too. Lyse reached down and touched her calf. The cut on her leg was gone.

  “I . . . The pain is less,” Evan said, frowning in confusion.

  Lyse fought back tears as she realized what they were doing. Sacrificing their own existence to ease her and Evan’s suffering.

  “They’re taking our pain from us, taking it into their own bodies, so we can fight.”

  “I don’t want them to—” Evan tried to say, but Lyse cut him off.

  “They’re doing it because they want you to help them. Let them help us in return.”

  Evan rose to his feet.

  “Okay.”

  The two men were still moving toward them. Lyse realized, with a start, that they couldn’t hear the women. They’re not attuned to the frequency, she thought.

  “Let’s go,” Lyse said, and took Evan’s arm, guiding the two of them in the direction of the armed men.

  “We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Lyse called out to the men as they drew near them. “We come in peace.”

  The closer they got, the more Lyse could see of the men’s faces. She was frightened by the soulless emptiness in their dark eyes, as if there were no humanity left in them, just the need to fulfill their duty. One of the men reached for Lyse, grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly into him. At the same time, Evan removed the dart from the tissue paper and stabbed the other man in the throat. The man screamed, his hands clasping at his neck, and then he fell onto the floor, writhing in pain.

  “What the—” the man holding Lyse started to say, but Evan had already stabbed him in the back of the neck with the same dart.

  The man released Lyse and stumbled backward, slamming into a surgical table before sliding to the ground, scratching at the spot where Evan had stabbed him.

  “Two down,” Evan said, pushing Lyse ahead of him. “And if you’re right about them seeing everything, more will be on the way.”


  Lyse followed Evan, the humming growing even louder as they ran. It was like being out in the woods in Athens on a hot summer night, the song of the cicadas wrapping itself around you like a blanket.

  “We need to find Arrabelle and then get these women out of here,” Evan said—and Lyse couldn’t have agreed more.

  They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, scanning the lab for their friends. Then Lyse saw a flash of Niamh’s long hair off to their right, and she grabbed Evan’s arm to stop him.

  “This way,” she cried, and now she was in the lead. “I see Niamh.”

  Arrabelle and Niamh were standing outside one of the concrete block rooms, staring through the small rectangular window. Niamh was banging on the glass, trying to break it, but to no avail.

  “What’s wrong? Why can’t you get in?” Lyse called out as she approached them.

  “It’s locked,” Arrabelle shouted back.

  Lyse didn’t hesitate, she opened her mind and offered up a plea:

  You who are one, help us, please!

  She heard a dry whistling in her head, like a billion leaves rolling across a wide-open plain—and then the humming stopped.

  The women in the cages opened their mouths and screamed. The sound was titanic and Lyse fell to her knees, covering her ears to block it out. The window shattered, pieces of glass showering down on them like raindrops.

  As the scream faded away, Lyse climbed back to her feet.

  “Let’s go!” she cried, and gestured for the others to help her climb through the window.

  Arrabelle and Niamh boosted her up and she shimmied through the broken frame, careful not to cut herself on the long shards of glass.

  She dropped into the room and her skin began to break out in gooseflesh as she recognized the smell: Death was here in the room with her.

  The girl she’d seen in her mind was definitely Niamh’s twin—and Lyse found her waiting on a hospital gurney, her skeletal body tucked underneath a thin white sheet. She looked up as Lyse crossed to her and smiled.

  You came.

  She was in Lyse’s head, her voice soft.

  “We all did,” Lyse said, moving closer to the bed until she was standing by the young woman’s side.

  She’s at the Pillar, but they won’t stop her.

  Lyse frowned as she took Laragh’s emaciated hand and held it gently.

  And once she’s spread the word, the world will know us finally. Isn’t that a miracle?

  Her voice was light and giddy, full of childish awe.

  Our power is in the blood, Lyse. It’s what connects us all. It’s what will save us, too.

  “God, I hope you’re right,” Lyse said, and she found herself wanting to believe the young woman’s words more than anything else in the whole world.

  You can let Niamh in now. They’ve gone. You will be safe here now.

  Laragh’s face remained immobile, the ability to move her body long since gone. Lyse leaned down and kissed her pale brow. Her skin was dry as bone.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lyse whispered.

  Don’t be.

  Lyse stood back up, wiping at her cheeks. The ache in her throat was almost too much to bear as she walked over to the door and undid the lock, the metal hinges creaking as it swung open.

  Niamh was inside in a heartbeat. She’d already seen her sister’s face through the window and was prepared, so there was no shock. Without a word, she climbed up onto the hospital bed and held her sister’s body tightly to her, rocking them both back and forth.

  Only Niamh knew when Laragh finally left the world.

  * * *

  While Lyse stayed with the twins, Arrabelle and Evan began the long and arduous task of busting open each and every cage.

  Lizbeth

  The helicopter hovered above her, but Lizbeth ignored it. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep—

  —she opened her eyes and she was still standing exactly where she’d been, only above her now was not a helicopter but a monumental wave poised to crash down upon her head.

  “Don’t look up, silly child.”

  And then Temistocles was standing before her, grinning like an idiot. As happy to see her as she was to see him. She wanted to race over to him, to have him catch her in his arms and hold her tight, but he sensed her intention and held up a hand for her to remain where she was.

  “Stay. It’s not time to leave the safety of the stones just yet.”

  “I’m afraid,” she said, looking back up at the wave, which had moved incrementally closer to engulfing her.

  “I told you not to look,” he scolded her. “When you look, it lets them get closer.”

  She dragged her eyes away from the wave, refocusing them on Temistocles.

  “Only two more minutes and the blood moon will reach the meridian—then everything will be out of your control,” he said, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully. “The men in the helicopter will try to stop the message from going out. If they fail, then it’s the army’s turn.”

  “Army?” Lizbeth asked, fear snaking through her.

  He nodded, his head bobbing up and down like a marionette.

  “Of course there’s an army down there,” he replied. “They’re ringing the Pillar, waiting to apprehend you as soon as the message goes out.”

  Lizbeth couldn’t help herself. She looked up at the wave again—this time it was only a foot or so above her head, frozen in place, but ready to break at any moment.

  “Stop it, I say!” Temistocles shouted, and she was forced to look back at him. “Now. Do you trust me?”

  She didn’t have to think about it. She nodded that she did.

  “Good. Because when the message goes out, you are going to escape the only way I know how—through the dreamlands.”

  “Okay—” Lizbeth said, and then she heard a loud crash above her. She looked up at the wave—

  —and felt the weight of a man’s hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin.

  “Come on now, you stupid cow—”

  She knew that voice. It was Lyse’s uncle—the traitorous bitch had sent him to find her. Of course, she hadn’t killed him. It had all been a lie.

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed, and turned, kneeing him in the groin. He fell to his knees and she shoved him away from her.

  Above her the clouds broke and an oxblood orb appeared in the sky. It was massive, descending over the nearby range of mountains like an unbroken, bloodied egg yolk. She felt heat in her feet and hands, her toes and fingers blistering—and she screamed in pain. Then Lyse’s uncle was back, grabbing at her ankle, unseating her, so that she tripped backward, her upper body falling out of the stone circle. The pain instantly went away.

  “No,” she cried as he crawled over to her and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back.

  “You’ve failed,” he whispered into her ear.

  I can’t, she thought as a horrible idea entered her head.

  She swiveled around, so that they were face to face, his soulless eyes boring into hers—and then she did the unthinkable. She opened her mouth and sank her teeth into the cartilage of his nose, pulling at it until the tip came away in her teeth and blood filled her mouth.

  He screamed in agony and released her, clutching at his ruined face.

  She looked up and saw that the blood moon was already starting to wane.

  No, she thought—and quickly threw herself back into the stone circle. Woozy, she climbed to her feet and raised her hands in the air. The same burning began to consume her body again and she felt like a roman candle about to be lit into the atmosphere.

  She bit back a scream, but then she heard the singing—all the power of the Dream Keepers filled her up with their love, cocooning her in their protective magic.

  Then everythin
g around her exploded as her dream became the world’s dream.

  Well done, my love, she heard Temistocles whisper.

  She felt him take her hand.

  Well done, he repeated.

  And they disappeared into nothingness.

  Epilogue

  Around the world, awake or asleep, all of humanity dreamed the same dream.

  Lizbeth’s Dream.

  It went out into the universe like a shot, infecting every sentient being with its message: Let it be known that witches are real. And like that, the scales fell from humankind’s eyes and magic was once again awake in the world.

  Only now could the real battle begin.

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