Dreamweaver Page 25

  Though Isaac had no clue what he should say or do to help her—life among the Shadows didn’t prepare one for comforting the bereaved—he started to move forward, feeling like he should do something. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him. Redwind shook her head slightly, looked at Jesse, then looked back at him. After a moment Isaac relented, and he watched as Jesse poured out her grief, telling Sebastian that she should have been the one to die, not him.

  “What happened?” He whispered the question, not wanting to disturb her. “Why did they leave when they did? I thought the ritual had failed.”

  She nodded toward the fire. Looking that way, he saw that his funeral frame had collapsed, and the seven simulacra were nothing but ash. Understanding dawned slowly. “When they were fully burned,” he murmured. “That’s when the ritual took effect.”

  One of the azteca said something. Redwind turned to him and responded curtly.

  “What did he say?” Isaac asked.

  She didn’t answer. Jesse was sobbing more softly now, the first wave of hysteria exhausted, a quieter grief taking its place. He knelt down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t draw away he took her gently into his arms, holding her against his chest as she cried. He buried his face in her hair so that no one could see the tears pouring down his own face. He should have performed the ritual faster. Or better. Or . . . something.

  “Come,” Redwind said at last. “Let’s leave this place.” She waved to the two azteca, who started to lift Sebastian’s body from the ground. Jesse jerked herself free from Isaac and threw herself on top of it. “Shhh,” Dr. Redwind said, gently pulling her back. “They’re just going to bring him back to camp, so you can honor his passing properly. This place isn’t appropriate.”

  “I won’t leave him,” she said. “Don’t ask me to leave him.”

  “That’s fine. You can go with them. Isaac and I will stay behind to clean up, then join you.” After a pause she said, very gently, “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

  Jesse nodded weakly, and after a moment allowed Dr. Redwind to draw her back from the body. The azteca carried Sebastian toward the place where they’d left the horses, which was a safe distance away from the ritual site. Jesse turned a tear-streaked face back to Isaac, a question in her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Go with them.”

  She nodded and went after them, trotting a few steps to catch up. He watched for a few minutes as she followed them, heading north.

  Sorry, Jacob whispered in his mind.

  He nodded then looked at Dr. Redwind. “What exactly are we cleaning up?”

  “Table and tools. And you should erase your patterns. Rain will take care of the rest.” She looked at the horizon, now cloudless except for El Malo. “When it comes.”

  She started to move toward the ritual table, but he put a hand on her arm to stop her. “What did the azteca say?”

  “He said, ‘The gods demand sacrifice. Now they are satisfied.’” Gently she removed his hand from her arm. “Now go erase your circle. I’ll collect our tools.”

  27

  BADLANDS

  TERRA PRIME

  JESSE

  “IT’S TIME.”

  The words filtered down through my sorrow slowly, and for a moment it was hard to give them context. Memories from the last few hours were all jumbled up in my head: reapers attacking, Sebastian dying, me riding across a scorched wasteland between skull-clad warriors, mourning the fact that someone I cared about had to be dragged on a makeshift frame behind a horse, jostled by every bump and crack in the desert. But what option was there? If they draped the body over a horse it might be frozen in that position by the time we got back to camp. That was too gruesome to even think about. I also had a vague memory of arguing with Isaac and Dr. Redwind over who was going to prepare the body for its final viewing, but I wasn’t sure when that argument took place. In the end they prevailed, leaving me to nurse my sorrow as the two azteca carried Sebastian away.

  “Jessica.”

  I opened my eyes and saw Isaac seated on the edge of the cot, as he had been for hours, a loyal but exhausted sentinel. Standing behind him was Dr. Redwind. When she saw I was awake she said gently, “There’s something here I want you two to see.”

  “Is it what you were waiting for?” I asked.

  “Not yet. Something else.”

  Redwind had told us earlier that someone was on their way to join us for the funeral, and we should wait until she arrived before we started. She wouldn’t give us any more information, but I trusted her judgment more than I trusted my own at that point, so I just nodded and agreed. Now, as she led Isaac and me to the site she had chosen for Sebastian’s funeral pyre, I wondered who in the outside world could possibly have a role to play in all this.

  We walked maybe a quarter of a mile, to a place where the canyon took a sharp turn to the left. Past that was an expanse of shallow water with a peninsula of rock extending into it, and on that peninsula was Sebastian. He was lying on a frame of tree limbs lashed together, not unlike the one Isaac had built in miniature for his ritual. The frame was raised above a bed of kindling. We followed Dr. Redwind in silence around the side of the lake and down the peninsula, until we stood before the body.

  How peaceful he looked, lying there as if asleep! Someone had dressed him in a fresh shirt so that his wounds were hidden, and his long white hair had been washed clean of blood and neatly braided. The spear he had fought with was by his side, only now it had feathers bound to the shaft. I looked at Dr. Redwind, a question in my eyes.

  “It’s a gift from the azteca who were with us. As is this whole structure. They said to tell you that they offer it as a sign of respect to one who lived bravely and died well.”

  I shut my eyes for a moment. “Thank them for me.” I looked at Sebastian. “For us.”

  “That’s not all I wanted to show you.”

  Curious, I watched as she walked to the end of the frame, where Sebastian’s feet rested. They were bare of shoes, though one ankle was still swathed in bandages. Gently she loosened the strips of white fabric, easing them enough to slide them down his ankle and show us his wound.

  I gasped.

  Where the thorn had pierced him, his flesh was black. Not organic black, like you might see with blood poisoning or frostbite, but pure black, the color of coal and tar and onyx. And not just on the surface. The hole in his ankle hadn’t closed completely, and you could see that the flesh inside was the same impossible color.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. Apparently those thorns you ran into were more deadly than you realized.” She moved the bandages back into place, smoothing them over the wound. “It was spreading up his leg, slowly but surely. And there was nothing I knew of that could stop it. The night we spent in the supply cave, he told me that the blackened part of his flesh had lost all sensation. When the infection got as far as his ankle joint, he would be crippled.”

  “He knew,” I whispered. “When he chose to die for me, he knew that.” I turned to Isaac. “Where is he now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His spirit. You can see spirits, right? So you must have seen his.”

  He hesitated. “It takes conscious effort to do that, Jesse. And I was focused on the ritual at the time.”

  “But Jacob—Jacob must have seen him. Ask him.” Something about the way he and Redwind looked at each other made my stomach lurch. “Is something wrong? You said the manner of a man’s death affected what form his spirit would take. So tell me he’s all right, Isaac, because that death was not a good way to die.”

  “I didn’t see his spirit,” Isaac said quietly. “Neither did Jacob.”

  I stepped back, feeling as if I’d been struck. “So . . . the reaper destroyed his soul? Or ate it?”

>   “No. Not that. Jesse . . . sometimes when a man dies, a wraith comes into existence. It may have intact memories, or only broken fragments of recall. And sometimes—sometimes we don’t see anything. It doesn’t mean his spirit was destroyed. It just means it’s not here.”

  “Where else would it be? Why would it leave?”

  “Jesse.” Dr. Redwind’s tone was gentle. “The dead don’t belong in this world. The ones that stay here are the ones that have a reason to. Unfinished business, perhaps, or a strong bond to one of the living. And those who are traumatized by death—the ones Isaac calls soul shards—can be trapped in this realm until such time as they are able to find peace. But many souls simply move on to another world—what we call the realm of the dead—and cannot be seen or heard by living men.”

  I looked at Isaac. “That’s what you believe?”

  He hesitated. “Our theories about it are a little different, but yes. Some deaths don’t generate a visible wraith.”

  “You think that’s what happened to him?” I looked at the body on the platform.

  “I know he didn’t become a soul shard,” Isaac said, “because Jacob would have seen that. And since the reapers are essentially Dreamwalkers, there’s no reason to think they would have the power to either eat or destroy a human soul.” He paused. “His spirit is somewhere, Jesse. I promise you that.”

  “All right.” I lowered my head. “All right.”

  “And he didn’t die badly,” Dr. Redwind said.

  “What do you mean? He was torn to pieces by a corrupted spirit.”

  “He died protecting someone he loved. That doesn’t destroy a soul, Jesse. It strengthens it.”

  It took me a moment to find my voice. “He . . . he loved me?”

  “Jesus, girl.” Isaac shook his head in mock astonishment. “Even I figured that one out.”

  I remembered the haunting sadness in Sebastian’s eyes the night he’d told us how he lost his family. Sometimes it seemed like there was a hint of that same sadness when he looked at me. He loved his daughter, I thought. He protected me as he would have protected her.

  A figure came around the bend and signaled to Redwind. It was one of the azteca.

  “The last of our number is here,” she said. “Let’s go back so you can see what’s arrived.”

  The person who Dr. Redwind had been waiting for was the Native American girl from the hotel, who Redwind introduced as Charisa. She was carrying Sebastian’s musket. The sight of it brought a lump to my throat.

  “I made sure it had no powder in it,” she said as she handed it to me. “He kept it very clean.”

  I ran my hand down the barrel, remembering the first day I saw it, displayed on a shelf in the Green Man’s hideout. Having it here would have pleased Sebastian, so it brought me comfort. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  We all walked back to the peninsula together: Isaac, Dr. Redwind, the azteca, Charisa, and me with the musket resting on my shoulder. I laid it down by Sebastian’s side and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I loved you, too,” I whispered. Then I reached into my pocket and took out the small pouch that contained his fetters. Isaac had tried to talk me into keeping them, and I had said I would think about it, but now that I was standing beside Sebastian’s body, I didn’t want to profit from his death in any way. I placed the pouch on his chest and nodded to Dr. Redwind, who stepped forward and set fire to the kindling. The flames spread quickly, and soon the entire structure was ablaze. One of the azteca began to chant, and though I didn’t know the words, its purpose was clear, so it was comforting.

  As the funeral flames rose to lick the sky I turned to Isaac and asked, “Didn’t you tell me once that ghosts can travel freely between the worlds?”

  He hesitated a moment. “They can, but they can’t go anywhere in particular unless they know the way.”

  “By which you mean the path that connects two worlds. The design you call a codex.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sebastian’s the one who gave me the codex for Terra Colonna,” I said quietly. “He knew the way.”

  I looked back at the pyre. A strange peace filled me.

  “That’s why we can’t find him,” I murmured. “He’s gone home.”

  28

  BADLANDS

  TERRA PRIME

  JESSE

  THE STREET OUTSIDE MY HOUSE is peaceful. The trees are lush and green. The sky is blue. How strange it feels, not to worry that at any moment a reaper might appear! Despite the pall of sorrow that hangs over me, I can’t deny how wonderful that sense of freedom is. There may still be enemies who seek my death, but if they aren’t Dreamwalkers, they can’t reach me here. After so many weeks of constant fear, the feeling of safety is almost surreal.

  My mother steps out of the house and sees me. Her first response is simply a casual greeting, as though her real daughter is standing in the street waiting for her. Then I see lucidity dawn in her eyes. “Jesse!” She runs across the street to me, arms opened wide, and when she hugs me it is with such desperate strength that I can barely breathe. “You’re all right!” There are tears in her voice. “Oh my God, is it all over? Is everything okay? Can you come home to us now?”

  I thought I would be strong enough to handle this meeting with dignity, but I was wrong. It takes all my self-control not to start crying again. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine.” I pull back from her, just far enough to look into her eyes. There’s so much love there that it warms my soul just to look at her. “The reapers are gone. You and Tommy are safe.”

  “You killed them?”

  I hesitate. “Not sure, exactly. Isaac performed a ritual and they disappeared. They may still exist somewhere, but if so, they no longer have any reason to hurt us.”

  “So it’s all over? You’re free to come home now?”

  The yearning in her voice makes my heart ache. “Soon, Mom. I have one more thing to do first.”

  Her eyes narrow slightly. “Something dangerous?”

  I sigh. “Everything in my life is dangerous these days. I just wanted you to know that I made it this far, and that regardless of what happens from here on out, the two of you will be safe.”

  She gathers me into her arms again, and I rest my head against her shoulder, eyes closed, the pain in my heart eased by her love. “I have faith in you,” she whispers. “Always. You know that, right?”

  “I know. And I’ll come back to you soon, I promise.”

  “Are you going to visit your brother?”

  “Probably not tonight. I can only do so much dreamwalking in one night, and I’ve still got a few stops to make. I’ll talk to him later if I can. Meanwhile, you tell him I’ll all right, okay?”

  “He’ll be pissed as hell that you didn’t come see him yourself.”

  “I know, Mom. But it’s hard to handle any emotional scenes now, even good ones.” I force a smile to my face as I push myself gently back from her. “Let’s see, murderous Shadows need to be killed, annoyed younger brother wants a visit. Which gets priority?” I make a weighing gesture with my hands. “So hard to decide.”

  “Smartass. Go.” She blows me a kiss.

  “I’ll come home soon,” I promise.

  “We’ll have donuts waiting,” she promises back.

  The dream that I find Morgana in is peaceful. That doesn’t strike me as appropriate, so I change it: darkening the clouds, increasing the speed of the wind, filling the air with the smells of a coming storm. Yeah, changing someone else’s dreamscape on that scale will cost me, but it’s viscerally pleasing to disturb this woman’s dreams. God knows she’s disturbed mine often enough.

  I decide to change clothes before I reveal myself to her, trading in my normal tank top and jeans for an outfit that speaks more to my current mood. Black leather with black fittings, mystical symbols inscribed across every inch of it: I am the warrior in mourni
ng, the mystic who belongs to no world and to every world. Briefly I toy with the idea of creating a dragon to ride, but that seems like overkill. Besides, I really can’t afford to tire myself out over set dressing.

  I see her standing a short distance away, gazing up at the storm clouds, probably wondering where they came from so suddenly. With her white Grecian gown, bare arms encircled with golden bracelets, and golden hair studded with pearls, she looks like a goddess. But of course. What other image would she choose for herself?

  She senses my approach and turns toward me. There is a flicker of surprise when she realizes what’s happening, but only a flicker. I’m strangely disappointed; I wanted to shock her more. Maybe I should have gone with the dragon. “Sebastian said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “So the ancient legends are true.” There is a sense of wonder in her voice that softens my heart a bit. This woman has spent the last sixteen years trying to bring a Dreamwalker into the world. For her, this moment is a kind of birth.

  “Some legends. I’ve decided to reject the ones where we go crazy and destroy the world.”

  A slight smile appears. “I never believed those anyway.”

  “No?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “You believed in them enough to keep me in the dark all these years. So that if God forbid I suddenly went rabid I wouldn’t infect you with my madness.”

  The smile fades. “I kept you in the dark because there are people on Terra Prime who could pluck secrets from your mind like fruit from a tree. Domitors who could force you to confide in them. Farseers and Soulriders and Shadows who could watch your every move. Seers other than me who could sense what you truly are. Keeping secrets in my world is a little more complicated than in yours. Sometimes it requires extreme measures.”