The Book of Dreams Forgotten: (A Broken Creatures Novel, Book 2) Page 14

  Aside from my kitchen knives and what I’d seen in the movies? I peeked an eye open. “They’re made of steel and leather?”

  She chuckled, grasping her elbows as she nodded me on. “Close enough. Why don’t you try again.”

  Closing my eyes and focusing on the energy at my core, I thought of a meshed ball of steel, imagined it elongating and flattening into a deadly blade. What I envisioned resembled the blade Graves had carried, only sharper, its edges razor thin. Its neck was wide, its tip pointed while the base was clad in a black leather, smooth to the touch.

  “Now concentrate the energy into your palms.”

  With a deep inhale and long exhale, I relaxed, wrapping my awareness around the energy, urging it towards my arms, my hands. A heat singed along my limbs as the dark energy crept forward, reminding me of those encounters I had with Jera’s heat. Sultry, tepid. Until the center of my palms stung.

  “Good,” she murmured which meant I must have finally been doing something right. “Now force it outward. The image in your head, imagine the dark energy encasing it, sinking into it.”

  I followed her orders, urging the yellow heat from the barrier of my palms’ skin. I didn’t feel it at first, but slowly, tiny pricks ran along my hands, the air between them growing heavier as I imagined a dagger covered in dark energy.

  The weight compressed, taking form.

  I opened my eyes.

  A small dagger rest on my open palm, the metallic sheen glinting from the ceiling light. Its hilt was cut straight from a moonless night. “I . . . did it.”

  I didn’t feel surprise or wonder, only a strange acceptance. Then irritation.

  “If this is the Maker’s gift, why wouldn’t the twins teach me this?” Above all else we’d been learning, something like creating a useful weapon would have been convenient on multiple occasions.

  “Because, Peter,” Inoli murmured softly, sorrow resting beneath the tone. “They likely did not want history to repeat itself.”

  I scowled, fingers closing around the blade. “What history?”

  Those silver eyes shifted, translucent orbs showing the ghost of what looked to be a sea of crypts. “When you make something from dark energy . . .” She shook her head, her hand brushing my shoulder as she gazed at me. “Just be careful what it is you make—and what you make it from. It’s called dark energy for a reason.”

  She turned away and crossed over to a compartment above one of the smaller bookcases, leaving me to turn over those unsettling words.

  As much as I didn’t want to consider what she could have possibly meant, all I could think was that the Maker must have created something horrible, enough that the twins would withhold the extent of my ability from me.

  Inoli returned, a holster of sorts in hand. “Here, for your dagger.”

  I accepted the black belt, tying it around my waist and tucking the new blade away. I only felt slightly silly in it.

  “And here is the address to the pixie you are to pay a visit to.”

  Pay a visit to. How ominous. Still, I accepted the piece of paper she handed me and shoved it in my back pocket.

  “I know you aren’t on the best of terms with those whom I’ve gathered, but you must understand, Peter, I’ve seen every possible path the four of you can follow and the only one which leads to success is the one where the four of you work together. Do remember this.” Inoli reached forward then and placed her hand on my wing. I was prepared to flinch from the pain, but in the blink of an eye, it vanished.

  “I don’t understand . . . if you could heal my wing all this time, why didn’t you before?”

  “As I said, in pain there is clarity.”

  Had she known all of this would occur from the start? From the altercation in the study to those agents arriving outside the Sanctuary?

  I had a more pressing question. “Inoli, before I came here, before you sent the letter . . . were you the one who sent the cases to me?”

  By the confusion on her face, I had my answer. “I’m afraid not,” she said, and before I could launch my next question, she cut me off with, “It’s late, Peter. Why don’t we have Harold show you back to your room.”

  On cue, the Sanctuary’s butler returned, opening the doors as though he’d been waiting around for those orders.

  I didn’t object. She’d given me enough.

  And besides, I had a pixie to think about.

  Ch. 15

  When Jera and I returned to Wamego, the snow had come full force and by the time we got to the coffeeshop, it’d begun to snow more.

  Winter was never my favorite season.

  To add to that drear, even with my newfound determination to see through to the task Inoli had given me with the pixie, Jera was effectively implementing the silent treatment, meaning my words must have truly struck home for her.

  Pulling into the parking space beside the shop, I turned to her. “Jera—”

  She was out of the car the moment I put it in park. Fine. We wouldn’t be having a heart-to-heart anytime soon. Not that I would even know where to begin on that front.

  Taking Graves’ advice when it came to her was a death wish waiting to happen.

  Not that I had time to think about that.

  The paper with the pixie’s address on it was a constant burn in my pocket, crowding my thoughts, my conscience, so much so that I had a moment of whiplash when I opened the shop’s door.

  The bustle of customers and Christmas decor was a slap to the face, making me forget all about the pixie. Garlands flowing from one end of the shop to the other, a plastic Christmas tree shuffled off beside the chimney space, all of the tables’ napkin dispensers replaced by green and red ones. Fake snow was collected along the walls, the owl clock held a mistletoe with its beak.

  It was as if my sister had risen from the grave to decorate one last time.

  And of course, Bing Crosby played from above, vividly describing the joys of a winter wonderland I wasn’t feeling.

  Jera sidestepped me, beelining straight for the staircase without a word.

  “Peter!”

  “Boss!”

  Two weights crashed into me as Lia hugged me from one side and Danny took up the other. I stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do with such a warm greeting when I’d been surrounded by stone cold sociopaths for the past seven days.

  “How was your trip?” Lia asked.

  “I wouldn’t call it a trip,” I muttered, aware that people were staring but not caring as I returned the hug. I could still feel the phantom pain of my wing being snapped, the images of those corpses lapsing through my mind. Definitely not a trip.

  “The beds came while you were gone.”

  “Beds?—Oh yeah.” I’d forgotten all about the two beds I’d ordered for the newly converted bedroom. I was forgetting a lot of things lately, it seemed, and I doubted the faulty memory would ebb anytime soon. Not with that address taunting me in my pockets.

  I was going to have to deal with that as soon as possible, not put it off to the last minute, because knowing myself, last minute would translate to never.

  “It’s good to see you guys,” I said, and I meant it. The two of them owned a space in my chest that, when apart for too long, became icy and desolate. Even so, I told them, “But I can’t stay long. There’s some place I have to go.”

  “Boss, you just got back and you’re running the streets again?” Danny chastised me with that golden flecked gaze of his.

  And no support came from Lia as she said, “He’s right. You don’t want to stay and relax for a while? I can fix hot chocolate. My break is in fifteen minutes and everything’s already been stocked and prepared for the next two hours.”

  I could see that. It was a wonder if they were capable of handling the shop better than me. Ma and Dad wouldn’t have been too thrilled about that.

  Not any more than they’d be thrilled to know about my upcoming exploit.

  “I’m sorry, but—” I stopped when I noticed the jukebox
posted up beside the shop’s lower storage room.

  Lia followed my gaze, then exclaimed, “Oh yes, I fixed it!”

  “How . . .”

  “Of that, I’m not sure. I only touched it.”

  I’d never understand why electronics acted up in Lia’s presence, and I didn’t have time to ponder it. “Thank you, but there really is something I have to do.”

  “What is it?” Lia asked, eyes wide and imploring, but Inoli’s warning was a reminder looming in my forethoughts. She didn’t want Jera or I to tell anyone of our plans or what was going on. Not even Lia, who I couldn’t see compromising the mission in any way.

  Still, I kept my word and kept my lips sealed.

  However, she didn’t necessarily say I couldn’t offer up a loose truth. “There’s a case uptown involving a pixie. I figured I’d go before the snow got too bad.”

  “Perhaps I can come with?” Lia pressed. What was up with her? One week she avoided me and the next, I couldn’t shake her.

  Which rubbed off on Danny in turn. “Me too,” he said.

  But if anyone wasn’t getting involved with my immoral schemes, it was him. “No,” I said flatly.

  He stepped back from the force of it, then balled his hands. “Why not?”

  “Because I said so.” How I loathed when my parents would say that to me, yet now . . .

  The boy glared up at me, and without a word, he yanked off his apron and stormed up the stairs the same direction as Jera. If I kept this up, I was going to be the one he branded the Grinch, alone up on my icy mountain.

  And hadn’t it felt a lot like that already?

  “I won’t be a bother,” Lia said quietly.

  With Jera back to hating my guts and me not knowing the first thing about pixies, I could definitely use someone well educated in the faction. I doubted I could recruit Niv.

  Sighing, I gave the shop a once over. People sat with their styrofoam cup or small delectable on a platter. There wasn’t a line of customers despite it being a Friday evening. What could it hurt? “Sure, grab your coat.”

  *****

  There was something off with Lia, something I couldn’t put my finger on as I merged onto the highway. The address Inoli had given me was thirty miles out of town on a rural sliver of Wamego. The heat blasting ferociously, Christmas music playing—per Lia’s request—I saw no reason to sully the mood with questions. That was until I felt her eyes on me for the third time.

  Clicking off the radio, I asked, “What’s up?”

  She looked away quickly and I didn’t have to see her cheeks to know they’d gone red. “N-nothing. I just . . . I don’t know. Something’s different with you.”

  Mutual.

  “Oh? How?” I didn’t feel any different. Angry at Jera, nothing new. Confused about everything, nothing new. Blindly trying to do the right thing even if it meant to do something terrible—well, that one was new.

  “Your light energy, it’s waning.”

  “You mean my dark energy?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind; it’s likely nothing.”

  I didn’t press, and after a moment, she said quietly, “Danny was really worried about you while you were away.”

  “I know. I’m going to sit down with him tonight.” It was about time we had a talk.

  “I was worried, as well,” she admitted tentatively.

  I didn’t get it. “You were adamant about Jera and I leaving, and you did a great job of keeping the shop together.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, but that was mostly Danny.”

  Of course it was. The second I wasn’t there to dictate his job, he no doubt took it upon himself to play the boss, and knowing Lia, she’d let him. It was only by the grace of God the shop itself didn’t burn down. Though that could be thanks to me having taken the firestarter with me.

  “So what’s wrong?” I asked as casually as possible, not wanting to scare her off again. She and I hadn’t been alone without spectators since . . . since we’d practiced in my office and I’d found that malicious presence lurking in her dark energy.

  She laughed, but there was no humor. “I wouldn’t say something is wrong, but interesting. Very interesting.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like life. How it can go on and on and one day, it all feels like you’re looking into a mirror—but the reflection isn’t yours.”

  I may have questioned if she’d gotten her hands on any recreational drugs while I was away if not for the profound sorrow in her eyes—which was when understanding hit. “The Maker.”

  She laid her head against the window, the tip of her horn just barely scraping the glass.

  “You must miss him after all these years.” At her look, I gave a half smile. “Jera told me the two of you were mated. I’m guessing it’s not easy to see me with Jera.” Scratch that, it was likely very easy seeing as we were practically the North and South pole as of late.

  When she didn’t respond, I hesitated, but then imagined it was Liz I was comforting; I took her hand. “When this is done, when we find a way to heal you, our next order of business will be to find the Maker, I promise.”

  Her lips tightened, emotions etched into the line, then, “And if he truly is dead?”

  I wasn’t the best at comforting people, especially sad women, but I knew the basics. Say what they want to hear, except in this case, I wasn’t so sure. From the way everyone spoke his name in the past tense, I doubted he was still alive. And given what sounded like a violent history for most immortals who’d dwelled in the Shatters, I wouldn’t bet on us finding any remains either.

  Still, I wore the smile I had too much practice in donning for others and said the words I was supposed to. “We’ll find him.”

  *****

  The house was not what I was expecting. Namely because in the dead of winter, the home was surrounded by a small radius of lush green grass and tulips. As if an invisible roof shielded the property from the falling flakes. The home was made of all brick with a smoking chimney puffing out grey palls of smoke, a narrow pavement leading to the front door and a small white picket fence lined the house. The surrounding land, covered in sparkling white snow, must have been a cornfield at some point.

  I stopped on the side of the road where the snow didn’t touch and threw the car into park. “It’s weird.”

  Lia inspected the house. “I find the house quaint and lovely.”

  “Not that. I mean the lack of snow.”

  “Oh, that’s quite normal, actually. In fact, it’s the number one indicator that a pixie is in the vicinity. Like elves and faeries, they are of the nature family and tend to influence the vegetation around them.”

  “Why would a pixie live in a house this big when they’re so tiny?”

  “A mystery, indeed,” she murmured.

  We got out the car and headed up the driveway. Before I could even knock, the door opened. I had to look way down to see the little old woman with the hunch in her back and plea in her gaze. She was tiny, but not pixie tiny.

  “Are you him?” the elderly lady asked.

  “I am,” I answered rotely, having finally gotten used to the question. Inoli must have told her about me ahead of time. But it didn’t answer our question. Clearing my throat, I fiddled abscently with my gloves. “Just what exactly seems to be the problem?” I fished in the event I had the wrong house, wrong case.

  “Oh, it’s my poor Breone. Here, come in, come in. My chocolate chip cookies have just come out of the oven.”

  Jera was missing out big time.

  We entered the house that was as Lia said, quaint. And considerably lovely with its furniture packed together with just the right amount of space, the faux bear skin thrown out before the fireplace and Christmas stockings hanging above it with a picture of what must have been her grandkids.

  “Please now, have a seat,” she called out to us from the kitchen.

  The smell of roasted walnuts and chocolate had my mouth w
ater, reminding me I did still need food in my regimen, and when had I last eaten?

  Lia sat down hesitantly, removing her Mickey Mouse gloves and hat, her horns protruding freely now.

  “I’m Mary-Luanne, by the way, and you must be Peter,” the woman said as she carted in a still steaming tray of cookies. Her eyes roamed right over Lia’s horns as if they were nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Let me help you with that.”

  The woman shook her head. “Oh please, you’re my guest. And these cookies are nothing more than a means to get quality service out of you.” She chuckled when I stared at her, trying to gauge if she was serious.

  “He’s not one for jokes now, is he?” she asked Lia.

  Lia shook her head then introduced herself.

  The warmth, the kindness, it was going to make me sick. “What seems to be the problem?” I asked again, anxious to find the pixie and figure out how I was going to move forward.

  The smile faded slowly from Mary-Luanne’s face as I helped her settle onto the sofa.

  She prepared two saucers from the platter of cookies, seeming lost in her thoughts, until two rugged coughs sounded from somewhere in the house. When she saw my worry, she waved a hand. “That’s just my husband, Bill; he has a little winter cough.” She let out a shaky breath then, looking at her hands as she went on. “But as to why you’re here, assuming you are who the lady on the phone says you are, you know all about strange little oddities, don’t you?”

  I glanced at Lia’s horns as I sat beside her. “You could say so.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ve heard of the little garden people.”

  Not a peep. “Tell me about yours?”

  “She’s the sweetest little thing, I’ll tell you that,” Mary preened, grabbing a napkin and setting two cookies on each of our plates. “Showed up in my garden not four months ago, confused and all alone. You can imagine my surprise. I didn’t know what to think—except that maybe I’d lost my mind. But as I started to call for Bill to come see, she looked up at me and, Peter, I couldn’t explain it if I tried, but there was something in her eyes. Something that told me this strange creature needed my help. Have you ever had such a strong epiphany, Peter?”