Dreams of Shreds and Tatters Part 22

She expected a wrench, a tug, some feeling of dislocation, but there was only a grey haze enveloping her, pa.s.sing through her, taking away- Taking what?

Liz opened her eyes to see the bridgekeeper backing away, all his teeth bared in a grin. She sagged in Seker's arms, his strength the only thing holding her up.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"You made a very foolish bargain. But it's done now."

"Done indeed," the bridgekeeper said, retrieving his staff and gesturing with it toward the castle. It had returned to its original position, the swaying patchwork bridge in place once more. "You've paid the toll, Curious George, and now you may cross."

"Thank you. I think." Liz straightened, blinking until her vision focused. Her head was light and spinning. What had she lost, to dizzy her so?

The old man's staff came down with a crack as she and Seker started for the bridge. Liz turned to find the two men staring at one another.

"She paid the toll," the bridgekeeper said. "Not you."

Seker's lip curled. Nothing about him changed that Liz could recognize, but for an instant he seemed as inhuman as the old man. "You can't deny me. Not if you allow her. And you've already struck the bargain."

The air between them thickened with tension, electric and palpable, and Liz edged away. Finally the bridgekeeper shrugged his patchwork shoulders.

"I suppose not. You're a lamprey, and it's too much trouble to cut you out. Go with your pet. But don't think your tricks will work so easily against the King, conjure man." He stepped aside with a mocking bow.

The bridge creaked and swayed beneath her feet, planks shifting underfoot. The ropes of the railing unraveled in lazy coils. Strands of long red-gold hair threaded the cord, such a familiar color- Liz closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness, then forced them open again as her toes curled on empty air. Acidic mist swirled up from the chasm, sighing between the boards and bones. Wind whined between the chasm walls like voices in pain.

"Don't stop," Seker said, close enough that she felt his warmth against her back. "It's not much further."

"Pet?" she asked, though she knew she might not like the answer.

Seker sighed. "I've thrown my lot in with humanity, for better or worse. Many of the older powers revile or ridicule me for it."

It wasn't much of an answer, but she didn't press. His company kept her moving. Maybe the old man was only trying to confuse her, to make her doubt an ally. If not...

If not, she would choose the devil she knew. Would choose any devil that gave her a chance to win Blake back.

She walked on.

Liz stumbled when the bridge ended, the sensation of solid ground unsettling after the pitch and sway. Her mouth was dry and sour, her skin raw and stinging.

"We're here," Seker said.

The palace soared above them, lost in the clouds. The walls looked even more like wax up close, every inch of stone covered by carvings. She looked closer, and her throat clenched. The carvings moved. Human and inhuman figures writhed in slow motion, twisting beneath a skin of black-veined marble. Faces contorted in agony and exultation; she wasn't sure which was worse. No gate or barbican stood to keep them out, only ma.s.sive doors of yellow stone, covered with more undulating bodies.

Swallowing sour spit, Liz stepped forward. But before she reached the doors, the rustle of giant wings filled the air.

"The gatekeepers have arrived," Seker said.

Gargoyles, Liz thought as she watched two shapes plummet from the towers, aloft on wings the color of old mushrooms, but they weren't made of stone. The draft of their pa.s.sage buffeted her as they landed; they reeked of honey and old death. Leathery sinew creaked as they furled their wings.

:What do you want here?: they asked in unison, a choral swell of voices that set Liz's teeth on edge. Their eyes flashed, full of darkness and scattered light.

"We desire entrance," Seker answered-Liz's voice was nowhere to be found. "And audience with your master."

:Our master is otherwise occupied: "Nonetheless, we will enter." Liz couldn't see Seker's face, but she heard the mingled humor and impatience in his voice.

The creatures straightened on crooked legs. Taller than any human, and the sweep of their wings only made them more imposing. Segmented tails lashed behind them. :We cannot allow that.: Liz forced herself forward. "I paid the toll," she squeaked.

Two long heads swung toward her in unison. :Then you may stay here as long as you wish, until the doors open. But they do not open now: Seker sighed. The air around him crackled, and Liz's ears ached with changing pressure. "Go inside, dreamer. I'll provide all the entertainment they need."

:Touch the door and we'll peel your skin to line our hives: "You're welcome to try."

"I'm not leaving you alone," Liz said, shifting her weight. Seker stood between her and the guards. She was only a few yards from the doors.

He chuckled. "I can take care of myself. Go and find your friend. You don't have much time left."

She inched toward the door. The guards hissed, gaunt jaws clacking. Liz stared at their talons, the glistening barbs on their tails. "I can't-"

Seker turned, his eyes flashing. "Go now!"

She moved as if shoved, the force of his words hurling her toward the door. Carvings twisted as she touched the waxy surface, toothy mouths opening. Something shrieked behind her as she threw her weight against the door, but she didn't turn to look. The panel shifted and swung inward; teeth sank into her flesh. Liz screamed and tumbled inside.

The last thing she saw before the door swung shut was a flurry of grey wings and white linen. Then the entrance closed with an echoing boom and she was alone in the dark.

AN HOUR BEFORE dawn Rae stood beside Liz's bed, staring down at the sleeping girl. She wished she had her deck, familiar symbols to make sense of the confusion spinning around them. The voices and music were louder than ever, a constant chorus in the back of her head.

The auras were stronger, too, but only a faint nimbus of color hung around Liz. Except for her bandaged hand-that pulsed a dark and ugly red. Rae brushed her fingers over the girl's cold cheek and chapped lips. She might have been touching wax. The smell of mania clung to Liz's skin, mouth-watering sweetness. Rae swallowed hard against the craving.

"How did you do it?" She'd tried so hard to reach the stars and always failed, but this pale little mouse had opened the door and stepped through, easy as pie. "What do you see?"

Her only answer was a flicker of eyes beneath shadowed lids. You can let her dream forever, a familiar voice crooned, nearly lost amid the starsong. You can set her free.

Rae's hand twitched toward her pocket and the knife there. Just a little pocketknife, Lailah's like everything else in the house, but the blade was sharp. She clenched her fists and took a clumsy step away from the bed. All the drapes and blinds were pulled to keep warmth in, and she stifled without the kiss of starlight.

No, she reminded herself, digging her nails into her palms. Gla.s.s and curtains kept the monsters out, kept them safe. No matter how badly her blood itched.

A shudder wracked her, strong enough to bring her to her knees, doubled over on the cold floorboards. Darkness spread through her veins, blue-black worms squirming under the skin of her wrists. Her teeth tingled and her mouth tasted of copper. Her jaw ached with the effort of holding back a wild baccha.n.a.l cry.

"What am I turning into?" she whispered, pressing her forehead to the floor. But she knew the answer, didn't she? She remembered the women in her visions, wild and fanged and b.l.o.o.d.y. She remembered Gemma's painting, the maenads tearing Orpheus to shreds.

He should have sung for them, the cruel voice whispered.

Her hand hurt, white-knuckled on the knife. Lamplight slid like golden water along the blade as she unfolded it. She pressed the tip against the inside of her arm, watch the soft flesh dimple. Skin dented, then popped. She prayed for red, but her blood, when it came, was black and sluggish.

Hissing, Rae tugged the blade, opening a line across her arm. Flesh parted, baring red tissue marbled with white. The sickly smell of mania wafted from the wound. A single dark drop of blood rolled down her wrist.

"All I wanted was to see," she murmured.

You will. You'll see and you'll touch and you'll taste.

A rustle of cloth drew her head up. On the bed, Liz convulsed once, chest hitching beneath the sheets. Rae stood, and her breath caught.

The girl's face was the color of sour milk, cheeks and temples shot through with black. She twitched again and the air smelled of blood and rot and honey.

End her suffering.

Mercy. The kind Lailah had refused to give her.

The woman in white's words echoed softly in her head. There is another way. Another road, if you're willing to walk it.

Shaking so badly she nearly sliced her fingers, Rae snapped the knife shut and tugged her sleeve over the gash in her arm. Yarn rasped against torn skin. Whatever road she walked, it wouldn't start like this. She yanked the bedroom door open and shouted for help.

Alex arrived first, a scarecrow shadow in the doorway. "What's happened?" His face was mottled with feverish color, eyes gla.s.sy, voice hoa.r.s.e.

Would any of them make it out of this house alive?

"I don't know," Rae said, shaking off morbid speculation. "She's getting worse."

He sucked in a breath as he leaned over the bed. Liz's eyes twitched and her breath came short and sharp. Sweat plastered her hair to her black-veined cheeks, and her bandaged hand glistened with fresh moisture. Blood and pus dripped down her fingers as Alex peeled the wrapping back; he and Rae both turned their heads at the stench.

At least Liz still bled. Rae doubted Alex would take much comfort in that.

"I need bandages," he said. "A first-aid kit. Now!"

She stumbled back, colliding with Lailah. Rae ducked out of the way before anyone could notice how bad she looked. She huddled in the warm darkness of the living room, listening to Alex and Lailah argue, and trying not to think about the stars.

18.

Eurydike

LIZ KNELT IN the darkness inside the palace, trembling on the cold stone floor. Her left arm throbbed to the shoulder: the door had bitten her, reopening the maenad's bite. Blood soaked the torn bandage, pooling in her palm and dripping off her fingers.

She wasn't sure how long she crouched there, watching that warm crimson trickle. Was time pa.s.sing her by in the waking world? Would she wake to find Alex grown old and grey, find that he'd forgotten her? Would the world have changed? Would she wake at all?

Eventually Seker's warning roused her: she didn't have time to waste on fear. Neither did she have time to wait for him. And if the doors opened again and he wasn't the one who came through- She forced herself to stand and face the shadows ahead.

The entryway soared above her, arches and emptiness. The air was still and heavy, sweet without the alkaline breath of the sea. Lights glimmered high above her like green and violet fireflies, enough to give her some idea of the vast s.p.a.ce, but not to illuminate it. The walls were orange where the light kissed them, veined and flecked with black, with the cool plasticky slickness of resin. Carven vines covered the floor in swirls and spirals, their leaves p.r.i.c.king her tender feet. Her blood seeped into the grooves, black as it ran into the shadows.

She wiped her hand on her shirt, trying not to stain Seker's mantle. She might not have thread or breadcrumbs, but at least she could leave a trail.

The dancing firefly lights led her down the corridor. Her soft footsteps carried through the still air. The quiet played tricks on her, until her own feet and harsh breath sounded like some panting beast pursuing her. She fought the urge to run; who knew what waited for her in the darkness ahead? After every dozen steps she touched her b.l.o.o.d.y fingers to the wall. Her feet bled too, but the vines drank it, hiding her footprints.

Liz tried to stay alert, but the endless walking left her drained and aching. She had begun to think the corridor would stretch forever when the light finally changed. A gla.s.s globe hung from the ceiling-or floated in midair; she wasn't sure which-illuminating a fork in the path. The hall split left and right, both branches black and featureless and identical.

She leaned against the wall, but the strange texture made her pull away again. Her sigh echoed through the sepulchral silence.

Another sigh answered from behind her, a dozen times louder. Hot breath blew across her neck, filming her skin with damp. The smell of beast filled the air, rank and pungent. It was a living smell, though, the stink of a barn-she took some comfort in that as she stood taut and trembling.

"You won't get far standing there," the beast said. Its voice vibrated behind her sternum, deep and rumbling. The floor shivered with its footsteps, the heavy tok of hooves on stone. "Which way do you choose?" His breath-she guessed male from the musk and the voice-wafted over her head, stirring her hair.

"Which way would you suggest?"

"That depends on what you're looking for. Are you here to kill monsters? To stop the black ships?"

"I only want to find my friend."

"Ah." His breath clouded in the cool air. "You're here to play Orpheus, then, and rescue fair Eurydike."

"That's right. Only with better results, I hope." Her bravado sounded forced, but it was better than hysteria.

The beast's laugh made her ears ring. "Orpheus was a fool. Perhaps you're wiser. Do you know who I am?"

Liz didn't need to see the breadth of his horns to know the answer, the flashing eyes or cloven hooves wide as dinner plates. "You're the Minotaur."

She felt his weight shift behind her, felt his head tilt. His heat and pungent stink enveloped her. "That is what I am, one of many things. But that isn't what I asked. Who am I?"

A name. Did the Minotaur have a name? Of course he did- she must know it. The Bull of Minos, son of Pasiphae and the Cretan bull, imprisoned in the labyrinth until Theseus killed him... Follow the thread, follow it back.

"Asterion!" The name took all her breath to speak, left her chest aching where the word had been. "You're Asterion."

"Clever child." A great, thick-nailed hand closed on hers. "But this place has eaten so many clever children. Is your friend worth your life? Worth a thousand lives without the mercy of death?"

The cords in her neck stood taut as she lifted her chin. "Yes."

"Then go. Follow the right hand path. Follow your clew." He lifted her right hand, and Blake's ring pulsed with light. "The labyrinth won't harm you, but nowhere else in the palace will be so kind."

"Thank you." It might be a trick, a lie, but the little spark of hope lent her new strength.

"Hurry," the Minotaur said. "Your friend is safe while the music plays. As safe as anything can be, in this place. Hurry, and don't look back."

Liz ran.

SHE HEARD THE music as she ran, the distant strains of an orchestra. The sound grew louder every time she stopped for breath, and the ember of hope burned brighter in her chest.

The labyrinth wound and twisted, and in the dim and fitful light the walls changed. Black amber became rough grey stone, which gave way in turn to low ossuary arches lined with polished skulls. Gold-veined marble became a shivering hedge maze, and her bleeding feet left dark prints on snow.

When the walls turned to mirrors, her concentration faltered. Her reflections ran past her in the gla.s.s, some brutally clear, others distorted as a carnival funhouse. Some didn't run at all, only watched her, a dozen unfamiliar variations of her own face.

Keep going, she told herself, but her lungs and legs and b.r.e.a.s.t.s ached from running, and it was too easy to slow her pace, to catch her breath while she studied this gallery of Lizes.