The Nightmare Dilemma

7 The Client

I left the conference room a few minutes later and nearly bumped into the principal lurking beyond the door.

“What are you—” I broke off at the dangerous flash in Dr. Hendershaw’s eyes, the look magnified to an absurd level by her Coke-bottle glasses. Considering how long it had taken me to complete the heinous restroom-cleaning detention she’d given me last semester, the last thing I wanted was to get in trouble again. Besides, the loud, annoyed huff I heard from behind let me know Lady Elaine would be all over the principal’s nosiness.

I made my way to my history class, walking faster than I meant to, the frenzy of my thoughts having a direct effect on my feet, it seemed. I walked through the door into the classroom, not bothering to announce myself. Mrs. Rosencrantz probably wouldn’t notice.

“Excuse me,” a deep, raspy voice said.

I jerked my head to the front of the room. With a jolt of shock, I realized it wasn’t Mrs. Rosencrantz sitting behind the teacher’s desk, but an old and rather horrible-looking man. His bald head gleamed in the overhead lights. Two narrow strips of steel-gray hair fanned the tops of his lips in a severe mustache. The same gray color formed the bushy eyebrow hanging over his right eye. There wasn’t a left eyebrow at all. Where it should’ve been perched the top of a black eye patch that seemed to be affixed directly to the man’s skull.

I froze halfway into my seat, gaping in surprise. “Woah, you’re not Mrs. Rosencrantz.”

The man fixed his single eye on me. “Very observant, Miss Everhart. Please sit.” He waved at the chair with one hand, the knuckles disproportionally large.

I remained in that awkward halfway position even as my leg muscles began to burn. Sitting seemed like a bad idea, akin to running away from a snarling dog. But as the man took a step toward me, I plopped down into the chair with an audible thump.

He stopped right before my desk and stared down at me. How someone could look so imperious with only one eye, I couldn’t guess. But it made me understand the unnatural quiet in the room. This guy commanded respect.

“Do you have a note explaining your tardiness?” the man said, brushing a bit of dust off the sleeve of his dark gray, oddly militaristic blazer.

“Um.” I began to fidget, running my hands over the pockets of my jeans, even though I knew I didn’t have one. I hadn’t bothered to ask. “No, but—”

He silenced me with a single jerk of his chin. “I see. Then I’m sure you will understand the detention I must give you in light of this oversight.”

“But—”

He turned away before I could say anything more. “After class tomorrow. Room three thirty-seven, Monmouth Tower. I expect you to be on time.”

Choked by the injustice of it all, I glanced sideways, only now registering that Selene was present. She gave me a sympathetic look, but shook her head when I started to mouth a question at her.

I swallowed and forced my gaze to the front of the classroom where One-Eyed Pirate Man now stood before the teacher’s desk—his desk now, apparently. I wanted to shout and rail at him. I’d been doing something important. Something for the government. I shouldn’t be punished. But I held back, realizing that I couldn’t say any of that.

The teacher addressed the class at large. “As I was saying before our interruption, the city of Atlantis, as described by the philosopher Plato, was comprised of three concentric ring-shaped islands separated by motes.” The man raised his hands, and a swell of powerful magic filled the room, making my skin tingle. “It resembled something like this.”

An involuntary gasp escaped my throat as a holographic image appeared in the air above the man’s head. It was as real and detailed as one of Eli’s dreams. The image depicted a city, one with a strange assortment of buildings. A few looked like Egyptian monuments while others appeared to be straight out of ancient Greece or Rome. Three ringed islands formed the city with a wide expanse of bright, blue water separating each one. A series of stone bridges served as the only connection linking them.

The largest, most prominent building stood at the center of the inner island. It was a towering cathedral-like structure with tall pillars surrounding its entrance. At the very top of the structure, a single tower stretched upward like an ancient space needle.

“But … sir,” someone said. I pulled my gaze away from the image toward the speaker. Never in my life had I heard Travis Kelly refer to one of the teachers as “sir.” As the son of a senator, Travis ran with Lance’s crowd, which meant he considered himself too important to bother showing such respect to a lowly teacher.

Until today. I wondered exactly how many detentions this guy had given out already.

“Yes, Mr. Kelly,” Pirate Man said. It was starting to bug me that I didn’t know his name. I scanned the dry-erase board to see if he’d written it up there, but the magical hologram obscured my sight.

“That can’t be Atlantis,” Travis said.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because it looks just like Lyonshold.”

I turned my gaze back to the vision, intrigued by Travis’s claims.

“Ah, yes, the resemblance is true. But what about now?” The teacher gestured with his hands, rotating the image until a massive gateway appeared front and center. Two statues of a half-horse, half-fish creature perched on each side of the gates like stone sentinels.

“Guess I was wrong,” said Travis, sounding crestfallen. “There aren’t any statues like that in Lyonshold.”

“Indeed not,” said the teacher. “Lyonshold is guarded by stone lions, not hippocampus.” He fanned his fingers and the horses transformed into two regal lions with shaggy manes and wide mouths opening into a snarl.

“Yeah, that’s it,” said Travis, brightening.

Beside me, Selene raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Rivers,” the teacher said. He lowered his hands and the vision of Atlantis disappeared.

“Why the similarities?” asked Selene.

The man smiled at her. I got the impression it wasn’t something he did very often. His teeth looked alarmingly yellow and sharp. I wondered what magickind he was. I looked around for an item that might be a wand or staff hidden by a glamour, but couldn’t find any. So either he wasn’t a wizard or he had the object hidden beneath his blazer.

“That’s a good question,” the teacher said. “The exact one that we will attempt to answer in the coming weeks as we delve into the dark, tragic history that was the rise and fall of Atlantis.”

Despite my resentment toward the man, I couldn’t help the excitement that came over me at this news. I already knew what ordinaries believed to be a myth was actually real, and the idea of Atlantis intrigued me. A lost island, swallowed by the sea? Definitely cool. I wondered if there were magickind archaeology teams who went around excavating stuff like that. Sign me up for that career choice, please.

The teacher turned to the dry-erase board and wrote down our homework assignment. I quickly pulled out my notebook from my backpack and copied it, managing to finish just in time for the bell sounding the end of class. Then I scooped up my things, and Selene and I hurried out the door together.

“Geez, what a jerk, huh?” I said, peering at Selene.

She pulled her pink-and-gray camouflage baseball cap out of her bag and yanked it down over her braided black hair, frowning. “He’s definitely strict. Made me take this off when class started.” She pointed to the cap.

I grimaced. Most of the teachers didn’t care if we wore hats to class, even though it went against school policy. I wondered if this guy would enforce the no-gum-chewing rule, too.

“Sucks about your detention,” said Selene.

“Yeah, no kidding.” I grimaced. “So what’s his name anyway? And if you tell me it’s Blackbeard or Sparrow I’m totally going to lose it.”

Selene adjusted the strap of her olive green messenger bag hanging over her shoulder. “Close. It’s Corvus.”

“How’s that close?”

“He said it means raven.”

I snorted. “Well then it is just as bad. What kind is he?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Weird. I wonder why he would keep it a secret.”

Selene glanced sidelong at me, a familiar patient expression on her face. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Uh…”

“He doesn’t want us to know.”

“Why not?” I said, stepping closer to her to avoid a collision with a tuba someone walking the other way was carrying.

Selene exhaled, her voice low, conspiratorial. “There are some kinds that always try to keep their identities secret, like vampires and hags, even some of the fairy races. And certain demonkinds, of course.”

I grimaced. “The darkest of the dark, you mean.”

Selene nodded. “The administration and all the teachers will know, but not students.” Then her expression hardened. “Not that I blame him for wanting to keep it secret. Stops people from judging you based on your kind.”

I didn’t say anything, understanding her bitter tone all too well. Nightmares had been hunted to near extinction all because the rest of magickind feared we would suck their souls out through their dreams. And everybody assumed sirens were manipulative and vain and that their only value lay in their beauty.

We walked along in silence for a couple of minutes as we navigated the crowd of students making their way to the cafeteria. The pre-lunchtime ruckus seemed at a fever pitch today despite the presence of the Will Guard watching from alcoves or trolling the hallways, their red tunics like warning flags.

But once we reached the underclassmen cafeteria, Selene said, “So why were you late to class?”

I looked around to see who was nearby. It didn’t seem like anybody was listening in, but you never could tell with magickind. Used to be I didn’t have to worry about people paying attention to me. I was just a nobody, a halfkind and a Nightmare, the lowest of the low. But after all the stuff with Marrow, my classmates had started taking more of an interest. I didn’t think it was a good idea to risk it. I shook my head as we stepped into the lunch line.

A hurt look crossed Selene’s face. For a second, I didn’t understand, but then I remembered our argument from the night before. “It’s not like that,” I said. “I just can’t tell you here. It’s secret and a pretty big deal.”

Selene pursued her lips. “Does it have to do with Eli?”

I paused, caught off guard by the question. Then I remembered English class. “What’d you hear?”

“That he stole someone’s wand and tried to kill Miss Norton with it and almost succeeded.”

I rolled my eyes and then relayed the honest, unembellished story about our English class. I resisted the temptation to point out that she would’ve seen it for herself if she hadn’t ditched this morning. She listened, intrigued as we traversed the line.

“I wonder how he was able to do it,” Selene said when I finished.

“No idea.”

Selene readjusted her ball cap. “Maybe it has to do with The Will being gone. He could have witchkind blood somewhere far back in his family.”

“I guess it’s possible,” I said.

Starving after my skimpy breakfast, I decided on a hamburger and a heaping mound of fries. To my surprise, Selene chose the same, forgoing her usual soup and salad combo. Maybe she needed to refuel after her busy night with Lance.

Ew.

We sat down at our usual table, side by side to make for easier whispering. Then with our heads practically touching, I told her about my meeting with the sheriff and Lady Elaine.

“I can’t believe they’re letting him go,” Selene said when I finished. She drummed her fingers on the table, each hard tap emphasizing her dismay.

Nodding, I picked up my water goblet and took a drink.

“And how dare they ask you to go all femme fatale on him. Minus the fatale, of course, since he’s the bad guy.”

I choked as an image of me in an exotic stripper getup flashed in my mind. Water dribbled out of my mouth, and I wiped it away. “Ugh, don’t describe it like that.”

Selene huffed. “And I can’t believe you agreed to it.”

“Like I had a choice with so much at stake. You know how dangerous he is. How dangerous all of Marrow’s supporters are.”

Selene gave a little shiver. “I guess you’re right.”

Wanting to change the subject, I told her about last night and all the stuff with Britney. When I got to the part about seeing Eli in the dream, she didn’t react at all. I nudged her with my elbow. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

Selene shrugged. “Weird, maybe, but I definitely don’t think he had anything to do with it if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

I picked up my napkin and wiped the salt from my lips. “Even after what happened in English?”

“Oh, come on, Dusty.” She wrinkled her nose. “This is Eli you’re talking about. He would never hurt Britney, and we know he’s not a Marrow supporter. His presence was just coincidence. I bet Britney has a crush on him.”

“She’s got a funny way of showing it.” I popped a fry into my mouth and chewed dejectedly. The idea of Britney liking Eli hadn’t occurred to me, but it was definitely possible. Eli’s attractiveness transcended all the kinds. I’d even seen Irene Stark checking him out once, the same person who believed so strongly in the superiority of her kind that she often refused to talk to someone if they weren’t a fellow fairy.

“It’s not as if most of us can control what we dream about the way you can,” Selene said. The note of reproach in her tone distracted me from my jealous musings about Eli.

I supposed she had a point. But then the image of that plinth and the unreadable letters rose unbidden in my mind. She was wrong about my ability to control my dreams, at least lately. I shuddered, remembering the deep, empty feeling inside me from the need to reach that plinth and discover those hidden words. I felt it even now.

Fortunately, a distraction appeared a moment later as Lance Rathbone walked into the cafeteria. He paused, surveyed the crowd, and then approached our table. Right away, I could tell there was something off about him. His clothes were in disarray, one pant leg stuck halfway inside a black kneesock while the opposite leg sported an untied shoe and a blue sock. One side of his shirt hung lower than the other from the misaligned buttons.

I looked up and saw his face was puffy and that two dark circles rimmed his cheekbones. His light brown hair lay plastered against his skull on one side and stuck straight out on the other. He peered down at Selene, blinking a couple of times as if in a daze. His green eyes, usually bright, seemed dull.

“Rough night?” I said, smirking. I winked at Selene, but she frowned back at me, her expression confused.

She stared up at Lance. “What happened to you?” she said with no trace of irony in her voice.

It was my turn to be confused. I examined Lance more closely, guessing my assumption had been wrong. The puffiness and bruises were too extreme to have been brought on by a sleepless night. He looked like he’d been beaten up. I knew Selene could be a feisty one, but I didn’t think she was into the kind of stuff that would leave her love interest looking like he’d had a run-in with a pissed-off gorilla.

Double ew.

Lance didn’t answer as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, leaving them even redder and puffier than before. “You seen Eli?” he finally asked, directing the question at me.

I shook my head. “Not since English. He got sent to the principal’s office.”

Lance surveyed the cafeteria. “And he’s not back yet?”

Selene and I exchanged a look. He was really out of it. If Arkwell had been a normal ordinary high school, I would’ve assumed he was stoned or something.

“You haven’t heard?” said Selene.

Lance slid a leg over the bench opposite us, whacked his knee on the table, and then plopped down, groaning.

I considered him a moment, shocked to find myself actually feeling concern. I’d never seen the guy looking so disoriented and clumsy.

“Heard what?” Lance said, rubbing his knee.

Selene relayed the story about Eli doing magic in English class.

“Huh,” Lance said when she finished.

Selene reached across the table and whacked him once on the top of the head.

“Hey.” He winced, putting a hand over his brow.

“What’s wrong with you?” said Selene.

Lance’s mouth opened but no words came out. It was as if what little part of his brain he normally used had a short in it. He closed his mouth, knuckled his eyes again, and then glowered back at us, looking more like himself than he had so far today. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I found this note and I wanted to show it to Eli.”

He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. “Seems kind of important.”

Selene and I grabbed for it at the same time, but she got there first, ripping it out of his hands. She set it on the table and flipped it open, revealing a typed message on the inside addressed to the “Dream Team.” My eyes read the words at once, but my brain took several seconds to absorb the meaning:

Meet me in the library tunnel alcove. 10:00. About a case. Life and death.

“When did you find this?” I said, my voice constricted by fear. It couldn’t be a coincidence, not given the time and place.

“Uh…” Lance stuttered. “This morning.”

Selene narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Lance scratched his chin as if the question required deep introspection. Gritty black marks rimmed his fingertips. “I think so, only I kind of remember seeing it last night maybe, but I thought I dreamed it. It’s weird, but everything after dinner yesterday is fuzzy.”

“Um, that’s a little more than weird,” I said.

Selene waved at Lance. “Let me see your necklace.”

“Why?”

“Just let me see it,” she snapped. Selene normally wasn’t this rude to people, but Lance was the exception, part of their strange love/hate thing.

Scowling, Lance obeyed, pulling the thick silver chain out from underneath his shirt collar. “Happy?” he said.

“Never with you,” said Selene. “Take it off and place it on the table.”

Lance grunted but again did as she said. He unclasped the chain and dropped it in front of her.

Selene didn’t pick it up, but held her hand over it. Then she closed her eyes and began to hum. My skin tingled with the familiar, pleasant feeling of her siren magic. The chain and the round, flat charm attached to it began to glow. At first it shone bright yellow but then little tendrils of black began to seep through like bloodstains through clean gauze.

I examined the charm that I’d first taken as some kind of Catholic saint medal, but then I realized it was an engraving of the Joker, Lance’s pop culture hero. I flashed Lance a you’re-a-moron look, but it was wasted as he wasn’t looking at me. Instead his eyes were fixed on the joker playing card he was shuffling back and forth in his hands. From the beat-up look of the card, it was time for a new one. A piece was missing from one of the corners.

I returned my attention to Selene, who stopped humming and pulled her hand away. The glow on the necklace vanished.

Lance returned the card to his pocket and, with something like his normal swagger, said, “Well, my little Sherlock, what did you deduce?”

Selene didn’t answer at once. She picked up the note and ran her thumb over it. I half-expected her to start humming again, but she didn’t. Finally she said, “I think you’ve been cursed.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “At least, there’s some kind of unpleasant magic lingering on your necklace. It’s a talisman, right? And you never take it off?”

Lance nodded, his gaze fixed on the joker charm as if seeing it in a new and sinister light.

I touched Selene’s arm. “How can you tell?”

She turned her eyes on me, the irises a startling shade of violet. “It’s a detection spell we’ve been learning in my musemancy class. We’re studying siren defense right now. It’s supposed to reveal the presence of any magic on an object to let us know if it’s safe to touch.” She grimaced. “I guess back in the day, a lot of witchkind and even some ordinaries used to enslave sirens with magical necklaces and bracelets and things. Pretty nasty business.”

“No kidding.” My mind drifted back to the conversation with Brackenberry and Lady Elaine about the unrest between the kinds. I had a feeling that Selene wasn’t studying siren defense right now because the curriculum called for it.

Lance picked up the necklace and put it on. “So you’re saying somebody cursed me?”

“I think so,” said Selene, “although I’m not really skilled at the spell yet. But the magic I detected is residual, not active. And it’s clear something happened to you. Question is, who would want to harm you?”

“Um, anybody that’s met him?” I offered.

“Ha, ha,” Lance said, rubbing his temple.

Selene’s brow furrowed. “Who was the last person you remember seeing?”

“Eli probably. Who else? He is my roommate.”

I rubbed my arms, warding off a sudden chill at the coincidence. Was it possible Eli had seen the note, too? If so, it might’ve given him reason to be down in the alcove.

Selene started to ask Lance another question, but someone called his name from across the way. Lance stood up, his eyes lingering for a moment on Selene. “See you later.” Then he turned and walked off.

Selene made a noise like a grunt, although it was far too feminine and delicate a sound to be labeled one. “Typical.” She returned her focus to the note. “Looks like somebody wants to hire us for a case. I wonder who it is.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I said, a little surprised Selene hadn’t come to the same conclusion already. Then again, I hadn’t gone into details about where Britney had been found.

Selene arched her eyebrows. “Who?”

“Britney Shell. The library tunnel alcove was where she was attacked, and assuming the note did arrive yesterday, then the timing lines up, too.”

Worry clouded Selene’s expression as I finished speaking. She began to trace a finger along the pink scar that ran down the side of her face from her hairline to jaw. I knew the gesture was a recently developed nervous habit. I could tell she was connecting the dots just as I had. Two people cursed in the same night, one unconscious in the hospital and one with unaccountable memory loss. And the only things connecting them were a note and … Eli.

“Are you still so sure Eli had nothing to do with it?” I asked, hating the doubt rising up inside me. I wanted to believe his complete innocence, but always the memory of Paul haunted me. And this was the magical world where anything was possible. He could be under a spell, or maybe it wasn’t Eli at all but some kind of shapeshifter. Either way, I had to get to the bottom of it.

Selene’s finger stilled on her face. She stared back at me, her eyes thoughtful. But she didn’t answer. There wasn’t one to give.