Buch lesen: «The Iron Warrior»

CHAPTER TWO

WAKING UP

The dream always ends the same.

I’m in my room again. Or, maybe it’s my sister’s room or a stranger’s. I can’t tell. There are photos on the wall I don’t recognize, pictures of a family that isn’t mine. But the desk is mine, I think. The bed and the chair and the computer are mine. There’s a figure sleeping on the bed, long chestnut hair spilling over the pillow. I’m trying to move about silently, so that I don’t wake her, though I can’t remember why she’s here, in my room. If this is my room.

Whoever’s room this is, it’s dark. I can hear rain pattering on the tin roof overhead, and the distant squeals of the pigs in the shed outside. Dad wanted me to feed them today; it’s going to suck tromping out there in the rain and mud. I told him I would feed them when the rain lets up. Truthfully, I don’t want to go outside in the dark. I know it is out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for me. I’ve seen it in the mirror, reflected in the glass: a tall, thin silhouette at my bedroom window, peering in. Sometimes, from the corner of my eye, I think I see long black fingers reaching out from under the bed. But when I turn and look, there’s nothing there.

My phone buzzes on the desk. I let it ring, feeling my stomach knot and twist as the phone vibrates on the surface.

“Why don’t you answer?” the brown-haired girl asks, now sitting up on my bed. Her green eyes seem to glow in the darkness.

“Because she’ll be angry with me,” I reply. “I left her. I promised to come back, but I left her alone. She won’t let me get away with that.”

The phone falls silent. Voices echo from downstairs—my parents, telling me it’s time for dinner. I look at the chestnut-haired girl again, only it’s not her any longer, but Meghan, sitting on her bed, her long hair pale and silvery in the shadows of the room. She’s smiling down at me, and I’m four years old, hugging my stuffed rabbit to my chest.

“Go get dinner, squirt,” Meghan says gently. She’s still smiling, though I can see the tears on her face, creeping down her cheeks. “Tell Mom and Luke I don’t feel well right now. But come back when you’re done, and I’ll read to you, okay?”

“’Kay,” I answer, and pad to the door while clutching Floppy tightly in one arm. I wonder why she’s crying, and if there’s anything I can do to make her happy again; I hate it when my sister is sad.

“She’s lost someone,” Floppy whispers to me, as he does sometimes when we’re alone. “Someone has gone away, that’s why she’s sad.”

Outside my room, the hallway is dark, and the rest of the house is cloaked in shadow. A single light flickers from our tiny kitchen, and I make my way down the stairs toward it, trying to ignore the dark things that move and writhe around me, just out of sight. A boy, shaggy-haired and ragged, waits for me at the foot of the stairs. “Can you help me?” Todd Wyndham asks, eyes pleading. The shadows curl around him, clinging to his thin frame, drawing him back into the darkness. I shiver and hurry past, squeezing Floppy to my face, trying not to see. “Ethan, wait,” Todd whispers as the shadows suck him in. “Don’t go. Please, come back. I think I’ve lost something.”

Darkness swallows him, and he’s vanished from sight.

“There you are,” Mom announces when I finally step into the kitchen. “Where’s your sister? Dinner is ready. Isn’t she coming down?”

I blink, no longer four years old, and bitterness settles on me like a second skin. “She doesn’t live here anymore, Mom,” I say, sullen and angry. “Not for a long time, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Mom takes a stack of plates from the cupboard and hands it to me. “Well, if you do see her again, will you tell her I’m keeping a plate warm for her?”

There’s a knock on the front door before I can reply. It echoes through the house, a hollow thud that makes the shadows writhing at the edge of the light draw back in terror.

“Oh, good. Right on time.” Mom opens the oven door and pulls out a pie, steaming and oozing red. “Ethan, would you get that, please? Don’t leave your guest standing out in the rain.”

I set the plates on the table, walk through the living room and open the front door.

Keirran stares at me over the threshold.

He’s dripping wet, his silver hair plastered to his neck and forehead, his clothes also drenched from the rain. Water puddles at his feet, only the puddle is much too dark to be water.

Below his shirt, something pulses, dark and menacing, like a twisted heartbeat. I can feel it, suddenly, right under his sternum, a twin to the weight around my own neck, the cold circle of steel hanging from a chain.

The storm rages behind him; lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the red streaks on his face, the icy gleam of his eyes. For a split second, gazing over his shoulder, I see someone else out there in the darkness. Tall and pale, with hair like writhing mist. But the light quickly fades, and the figure is gone.

I look back at Keirran, a chill creeping through me as I see his hands. They’re soaked in blood, wet and gleaming, all the way past his elbow. One hand holds a curved blade, glimmering between us.

I meet those icy blue eyes. He smiles sadly.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” he whispers, always the same.

And rams that blade through my stomach.

* * *

I gave a soundless gasp and opened my eyes.

Darkness surrounded me. I lay perfectly still, gazing up at what appeared to be a normal ceiling, wondering where I was. There were cracks running through the plaster, forming odd shapes and faces, but they didn’t swirl together and laugh at me as they had several times in the past. In fact, this was the first time...in I didn’t know how long...that my mind was clear. Before, I would tear myself out of one dark, surreal dreamscape, only to fall right into another, where everything was twisted and frightening and screwed up, but you didn’t know it because you were in a dream. There were a few lucid moments where, if I thought hard enough, I recalled faces hovering over me, eyes bright with worry. One face in particular showed up in my dreams a lot, her cheeks wet with tears. She spoke to me sometimes, telling me to hold on, whispering how sorry she was. I desperately wanted to talk to her, to let her know I was all right. But I could never hold on to reality for very long, and quickly slipped back into the twisted nightmares of my mind.

I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here, but I finally had a conscious hold on my brain. I was awake, and alert, and determined to stay that way this time.

Cautiously, I probed my shaky thoughts, gathering fractured shards of memory as I tried to piece together what had happened. First things, first.

Where am I?

Slowly, I turned my head, scanning my surroundings. I lay in a large bed, the covers pulled up to my chest and my arms at my side. The room looked like a normal bedroom, or maybe an office, though I didn’t recognize it and had never been here before. A desk sat in one corner, computer screen glowing blue, and a dresser stood beside it. To my right, a partially open window let in the cool night air, and silvery light cast a hazy glow through the room. A full moon shone through the glass, huge and round and closer than I’d ever seen before.

Blinking, I turned my head toward the other wall, and my breath caught in my throat.

A chair sat in the corner closest to my bed. Slumped in that chair, with her arms crossed and her head resting against the back, was a girl with pale hair and slender pointed ears.

My sister. Meghan Chase, the Iron Queen.

I watched her for a second, my newly woken mind trying to make sense of it all. Meghan stirred, shifting to another position, a queen trying to get comfortable. A blanket had been draped over her, and a book lay on the ground beneath the armrest. My throat felt suddenly tight. Had she been watching me, keeping vigil at my bedside? How long had I been here, anyway? And what the hell had happened, during the time I was out?

I tried sitting up to call to her. But the movement sent the room into a sickening tailspin, and my voice came out as a choked rasp. Grimacing, I sank back, feeling frail and horribly weak, like I’d been sick for a long time. Still, Meghan must’ve been barely asleep, for her eyes shot open, piercing blue in the gloom, and immediately fell to me.

“Ethan.” Her voice was a breathless whisper, and in an instant, she was at my side. One slender hand gripped mine as she knelt beside me, the other reached out and brushed my face, soft fingers sliding over my cheek. Her eyes were suspiciously bright as they met my gaze. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice faint with relief. “How do you feel?”

I swallowed. My throat was like sandpaper; talking felt like tiny razor blades being dragged through my windpipe, but I managed a hoarse “Okay, I guess.” And then my throat exploded in a coughing fit that brought tears to my eyes.

“Hang on,” Meghan said, and left my side. A minute later she was back with a cup, handing it to me with a stern “Drink it slowly.”

I took a tiny, cautious sip, wondering if it was spiked with faery glamour. It turned out to be water—normal, non-magical water, as far as I could tell. Suddenly parched, I had to force myself to swallow slowly, knowing it would probably come right back up if I gulped too fast. Meghan waited patiently until I was done, then dragged the chair to the side of the bed.

“Better?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I breathed, testing out my voice. It still sounded raspy, but at least I could talk without coughing. “Where am I?”

“The Iron Realm,” Meghan replied softly. “You’re in Mag Tuiredh.”

The Iron Realm’s capital. Meghan’s court, right in the center of the Nevernever. I’d ended up in Faeryland yet again.

I shifted against the pillow, and the room tilted a bit, making me clench my teeth. Meghan’s expression grew concerned, but I set my jaw, hoping she wouldn’t leave to fetch the doctor or healer or whatever faery creature took care of such things. I was awake and alert, and I still had no idea what was going on. I needed answers.

“How long have I been out?” I asked, gazing at my sister. She didn’t respond immediately, watching me with concerned blue eyes, and something on her face made my stomach twist. “Meghan?” I prodded. “How long have I been here, in the Nevernever?”

“A little over a month,” Meghan finally answered. “As far as we could tell, you’ve been in a coma, until today. No one was certain you would wake up. We found you...at the faery ring in Ireland and brought you here.”

“A month?” I choked out. A month in the Nevernever meant an indefinite amount of time had passed in the real world. A year could’ve flown by while I lay here, oblivious. “Why here?” I asked faintly. “Why didn’t you bring me back to the human world?”

Again, Meghan didn’t answer, gazing down solemnly, her eyes bleak.

“What about Mom and Dad?” I demanded. Right before I left, I’d promised I wouldn’t disappear into Faery for God knew how long. Another promise broken, another lie I’d told the people I loved. Mom was likely freaking out. “Do they know where I’ve been?” I asked. “Has anyone told them? Do they know I’m okay?”

“Ethan,” Meghan whispered, and her voice trembled. And, looking into my sister’s face, my insides went cold with fear. Her expression was haggard, and she stared at me as if I were a ghost. Flickers of raw anguish glimmered behind that composed mask she wore, the guise of the Iron Queen. My memory was fuzzy, but I knew, in the back of my mind, that something terrible had happened.

Closing her eyes, Meghan took a deep breath before facing me again.

“When we found you,” she went on, her voice growing a little stronger, “you were close to death. Your blood was everywhere, and you had already stopped breathing. We did everything we could to save your life, but...” She swallowed, and I could see she was barely keeping herself from bursting into tears. “But, in the end, we lost you.”

My heart seemed to stop. I stared at her, incredulous, my mind refusing to accept the concept. “What...what do you mean?”

“Ethan...you died. For a few minutes, you were dead.”

Reeling, I slumped back against the pillow. Bits of that night came back to me, untangling from the mess of dreams and nightmares. Some of it had been real. “But I’m still here,” I reasoned out, glancing at Meghan. “I’m still alive. How?”

“I don’t know,” Meghan said. “But the healers found this on your body.”

She leaned close and handed me something that clinked in my palm. Cold metal pressed against my skin as I stared at the two pieces of copper in my hand. They fit together perfectly, forming a round, flat disk with a triangle etched into the very center.

An amulet. It had been a gift to me from...my mentor, Guro Javier, for protection against the dangers of the Nevernever. But I hadn’t always had it... My brain spun, trying to remember. I had worn it when I’d gone with Keirran to meet the Lady of the Forgotten in Ireland. And standing in the faery ring, surrounded by dozens of Forgotten, the Lady had told Keirran that the way to tear open the Veil—the magic barrier that kept normal humans from seeing the fey—was a sacrifice. A sacrifice of one whose blood tied him to all three courts, who had family in Summer, Winter and Iron. For the exiled fey to live, for the Forgotten to be remembered by humans once more, I had to die.

And then, Keirran had stabbed me. And I had died.

“My healers tell me there was powerful magic surrounding that amulet,” Meghan continued, her tone unnaturally calm. “And when you...died, it shattered. I thought I’d lost you.” Her voice shook, but she composed herself again. “But just as we stopped trying to revive you, your heart started beating. Very, very slowly, and we couldn’t wake you up, but you were alive.” She looked at the broken amulet in my palm, wonder and relief laced through her voice. “Whatever this was, it probably saved your life.”

I stared at the glittering pieces, not knowing what to feel. My emotions were so jumbled up, it was hard to focus on just one. It’s not every day your older sister informs you that you were dead, even if it was for just a few minutes. And that you had been killed, stabbed in the back, by your own family member.

Keirran.

I forced my thoughts away from my traitor nephew. “Mom and Dad?” I asked hoarsely, glancing at Meghan. “Do they know?”

A pained look crossed her face. “They’ve been told where you are,” she replied. “They know you’re with me, in the Nevernever. I told them something happened to you, and that you have to stay here for a while, for your own protection.” She took a shaky breath. “I couldn’t tell them the truth, not yet. It would’ve killed Mom. I was hoping you would wake up before I had to explain what really happened. Why I couldn’t send you home.”

And then, in that dark bedroom, with the shards of the amulet that saved my life glittering between us, Meghan broke down. The mask of the Iron Queen disappeared, and she covered her face with one hand. Her shoulders trembled, and short, quiet sobs escaped her hunched frame, as my heart and stomach twisted themselves into a painful knot. Meghan had always been the strong one; before she’d disappeared into Faery, I could always look to her for everything. True, I was just a little kid back then and worshiped the ground my older sister walked on, but whenever I was tormented by nightmares or terrors or monsters only I could see, Meghan was the one I went to. She was the one who could make me feel safe. Even now, years later, I still couldn’t stand the sight of her unhappy. After she left, I’d spent the greater part of my life resenting her, angry that she’d chosen Them over family and hating the world that had taken her away. But even through all that, I’d still missed my sister like crazy and wished she could come home.

“Hey.” Not knowing what else to do, I leaned over, ignoring the brief moment of vertigo, and took her hand. Her fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed tight, as if to convince her that I was still there. Still alive. “I’m all right,” I told her. “Meghan, it’s okay. I’m still here. I’m not going to die anytime soon.”

“No,” she whispered back. “It’s not okay. It hasn’t been for a while now.” She took a breath, trying to compose herself, though tears continued to stream through her fingers. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” she went on. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to protect you from all of this. I tried so hard to stop it, distancing myself, never visiting, keeping you and K-Keirran apart...” Her voice broke on Keirran’s name, and I felt a rush of grief, anger, guilt and despair surge between us, so strong it made my skin prickle. “I’ve kept so many secrets, hurt so many people, to keep this from happening. Now Keirran is out there, and you almost died...” She shook her head, her grip tightening almost painfully around my fingers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “This is my fault. I knew this was coming. I should have kept a better eye on you both, but I never thought Keirran would... That he was capable of...”

A shudder racked her frame, and she gave another quiet sob. Abruptly, I remembered that, that night, right after Keirran had stabbed me and I had passed out, I’d heard the sound of hoofbeats getting closer. Had that been Meghan and her knights, come to save me? Had she seen Keirran, her only son, run a sword through my body and leave me to die?

And then, I remembered something else.

“That was the prophecy,” I said, feeling like an idiot for not seeing it, for never guessing it. Of course, how could I? How could I have guessed that Keirran, my nephew, and, in all honesty, one of my only friends, would stab me in the back? “The one that had everyone so worried. You, Ash, Puck, even Titania. You all nearly had a heart attack when you saw me and Keirran together. Because of the prophecy.”

Meghan nodded wearily. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you found out,” she said, wiping her eyes as she sat up straighter, facing me. “Who told you?”

“The Oracle,” I said, remembering the dusty old hag with empty holes for eyes, the stabbing pain as she’d touched my head and seemed to sink her talons right into my brain. I remembered the vision flashing through my head: Keirran, covered in blood and with sword in hand, standing over my lifeless body. “Right before she died,” I added, seeing Meghan’s eyes widen. “She was killed by the Forgotten.”

A pained look crossed Meghan’s face. “So, the rumors were true,” she said, almost to herself. “I’m sorry to hear it. We didn’t part on the best terms, but I’ll always be grateful for the help she gave.” She closed her eyes briefly in a moment of silence for the ancient faery, then fixed them on me again. “Did she tell you anything else?” she asked. “What the prophecy meant? How it would come about, and your part in it?”

I shook my head. “She didn’t have time to explain before the Forgotten killed her,” I replied. “All I saw was me on the ground, and Keirran standing there. I mean, I knew I was dead, that she was showing me my death...” I shivered, and I saw Meghan’s jaw tighten, too. “It looked like something had killed me. But, I never thought...that it would be Keirran.”

Anger flared once more, dissolving the last of the shock, and I clenched my fist in the blankets. “But you knew about it,” I told Meghan, and it was hard not to make it sound like an accusation. My sister regarded me sadly as I tried to control my emotions, the feeling of betrayal from all sides. “You knew about the prophecy,” I said again. “That’s why you kept Keirran and me apart. That’s why you never came back.” She didn’t answer, and I leaned forward, determined to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. “How long did you know?”

“Since before Keirran was born,” Meghan replied, her gaze going distant. “The Oracle came to me not long after I became the Iron Queen and told me that my firstborn child would bring nothing but grief. That Keirran was destined to either unite the courts or destroy them.” She looked down at our hands, still held together. “And that the catalyst...was your death, Ethan. If Keirran killed you, that would be the trigger, the start of the destruction.”

I stared at her in disbelief. Before Keirran was even born. That was years of knowing, years of that dark cloud hanging over her head. She had carried the knowledge that her son might do something horrible for his entire life.

“And now, it’s happened,” Meghan said, her voice flat. “The prophecy has come to pass. Keirran has started something he can never undo, and I must respond, as queen of this land.”

I felt a cold lump settle in my gut, and I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice coming out faint. I was almost afraid of the answer. “Where is Keirran, anyway?”

“No one has seen him since that night,” Meghan replied. “But we have reason to believe he is with the Forgotten.”

The Forgotten. The fey who were slowly fading from existence because no one remembered them anymore. The blood froze in my veins. If I had “died,” then the Veil—the thing that had kept Faery hidden and invisible to humans—was gone. Keirran believed that destroying it would save the Forgotten, providing them with the human belief that they desperately needed to survive, as they had no glamour of their own. But I could only imagine the worldwide terror, chaos and madness that would have ensued if all humankind had suddenly discovered the fey were real.

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at Meghan. She closed her eyes, making dread settle in my stomach. Had Keirran really started a Faery apocalypse? “Was the Veil destroyed?” I choked out. “Can everyone see the fey now?”

“No,” Meghan whispered, making me slump in relief. “It’s not possible to permanently destroy the Veil,” she went on. “Even if the ritual had worked the way it was supposed to, the Veil would have eventually re-formed. But...” She hesitated, her voice going grave. “When you died, the entire Nevernever felt it. There was this surge, this ripple of emotion from the mortal world, the likes of which Faery has never felt before. It went through the courts, the wyldwood, Mag Tuiredh, everywhere. We didn’t know what it was at first, then reports started coming in from the human world. For a few minutes after your death, Ethan, the Veil was gone. For a few minutes...”

“People could see the fey,” I finished in a whisper.

Meghan nodded. “Thankfully, after you revived, the Veil came back quickly, and minutes afterward, everyone forgot what they’d seen. But, in that short time, the human world was in chaos. Many people were injured trying to escape, kill or capture the faeries they came across. Some went mad, or thought they had gone mad. A great many half-breeds were hurt, some even killed, when the humans saw them for what they were. It was only a few minutes, but the event still left its mark. Both our worlds are still recovering, even if one doesn’t know from what.”

I felt sick and tried not to think of what I knew could have happened the night I had died. “Mom and Dad?” I asked in a strangled voice. I never thought I’d have to worry about the ones I left behind in the mortal realm, the normal world, but all bets were off, it seemed. “Where were they that night?”

“They’re fine,” Meghan assured me, sounding relieved herself. “They were both asleep when it happened, and your anti-faery charms kept their house safe. By the time they woke up, everything was mostly back to normal. Though there was a lot of confusion, fear and anger in the days that followed.”

I breathed deep, dispelling the knot of panic in my stomach. At least my family was all right, safe from the faery madness that had apparently swept the world. Though something else nagged at me. Frowning, I raked my fuzzy memories of that night, trying to recall what was real and what was nightmare. There was something I was forgetting...or someone. Keirran and I had gone to Ireland together to meet the Forgotten Queen, but we had left someone else behind...

“Kenzie!” I gasped, feeling my gut knot once more. Kenzie had had the amulet—it had saved her life a few times while we were in the Nevernever—but she’d given it back to me when I’d left her in the hospital that last night. My mind swirled with memories of a slight, defiant girl with dark brown eyes and blue streaks in her hair. Mackenzie St. James had been the third part of our little trio, a girl who bargained with faery queens to gain the Sight, argued with obnoxious talking cats and blatantly refused to stay safely behind in the mortal world. Cheerful, stubborn, relentless, she had followed me into Faery, ignoring all my attempts to keep her at arm’s length, and I had, against all my better judgment, fallen completely in love with her.

I’d told her as much, the night Keirran and I had gone to Ireland to meet the Forgotten Queen. We’d had to leave her behind because Keirran had picked a fight—with Titania, of all faeries, the freaking queen of the Summer Court—and Kenzie had gotten caught in the middle. I remembered my whispered confession that night in her hospital room, remembered my promise to return, and felt like throwing up. How much time had passed in the real world? Was Kenzie all right? Was she still waiting for me?

Or had she moved on, convinced that Faery had swallowed me whole once more, and I wasn’t coming back this time?

“Where’s Kenzie?” I asked Meghan, who gave me a concerned look. “She was in the hospital the night I left with Keirran. Is she all right? Where is she now?”

Meghan sighed. “I don’t know, Ethan,” she said, making my pulse spike with worry. “I wasn’t aware the girl was injured. Had I known, I would have sent someone to check up on her. But between you and Keirran and the upcoming war, I haven’t had time to think of much else. I’m sorry.”

“War? What war?”

For a moment, Meghan seemed to stare right through me, her expression one of guilt, anger and grief. But then she rose, and the persona of the Iron Queen filled the room, composed and resolved, making the air crackle with power.