“So, you showed all this to the dean already?” Zoë asked Nastasia, gesturing at the dreamland around them. Her tiger-spotted quoll sat on her shoulder, looking around curiously with its black, bead-like eyes. “But she didn’t recognize it, eh?”
Zoë, Nastasia, Rachel, Gaius, Joy, Valerie, Sigfried, and Lucky stood in the midst of what looked like fuzzy Grecian ruins, with eroding columns over a marble staircase and piles of sand-colored rubble all around them. Pillars reached skyward. In the distance, Rachel could see ocean and mountains beyond. She turned slowly in a circle, hoping that she would recognize some angle as a photo she had seen once in an encyclopedia, but nothing matched her memory. Of course, it did not help that Nastasia’s dream image of her vision kept blurring and wavering.
Nastasia nodded. “When Gaius asked me if I could request a vision, I did so—” the princess glanced warily at Gaius, who was standing to one side leaning against a pillar “—and one came. I then shared it with Dean Moth. She is informing the proper officials.”
Rachel winced, hoping that the Wisecraft had discovered their leak and stopped it. She could tell her friend would have preferred not to have brought Gaius with them, but Nastasia could hardly insist that he be excluded, when the whole project had been his idea. This left Rachel in the uncomfortable position of not knowing where to stand.
She wanted to be close to Gaius, especially since they had just recovered from their first row, but Nastasia seemed so fragile after her vision that Rachel did not wish to leave her alone, either. So, she was standing next to the princess, who shot her a grateful look that went a long way toward making Rachel feel she had chosen the right spot. She squeezed her friend’s hand, and Nastasia smiled faintly and nodded. If only the princess and Gaius could get along. Then, she would be able to stand near both of them.
Joy was also nearby, looking on with concern. Every few seconds, she asked the princess if everything was all right, if Nastasia wanted to wake up again, if she needed a glass of water—where Joy would have fetched water from in dreamland, Rachel had no clue—but Joy’s attention seemed to make Nastasia more ill-at-ease rather than less.
When Joy stepped away to look at something Zoë was pointing at, Rachel pressed her friend’s hand again.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“Yes.” The princess gave her a very brave smile. “I’m just a bit…disturbed at having people inside my dream. I keep fearing I’ll get distracted and change the dream around us, accidentally portraying some private thought or memory not meant for others.”
Suddenly, Rachel felt much more sympathy for Nastasia’s position. It had taken some effort, when the others were in her dream, to make sure her mind did not wander. She was not sure that she would have wanted a friend’s boyfriend, whom she did not know well tramping through her dreams, and she had more control over her memory than most.
“So, this is the demon’s ‘place of power’?” asked Gaius, looking around with interest.
“I do not know,” said the princess. “What I asked for was the location where a sacrifice might take place. So we could stop it.”
“Looks like Greece or the Middle East.” Zoë kicked a piece of rubble. It puffed into mist. “I haven’t spent much time there. We should have asked one of the March kids to come in here with us. They live in Greece part of the year.”
Gaius came over and squatted down, examining the piece of rubble she had kicked, which had appeared again. Standing, he kicked one of the stones. It dissolved into a puff of mist and then reformed. He tried this several times, kicking a large boulder and then a column—the latter of which did not seem affected—and examining the outcomes.
Rachel glanced at Nastasia, but she was not paying attention to him. Apparently, dissolving pieces of the dream landscape caused her no mental distress.
“I know how to find out where this place is,” grinned Sigfried.
“How?” asked Rachel.
“Walk away from Zoë.”
“What?” Valerie punched him in the arm. “You’re making no sense, boyfriend.”
“Actually, he is.” Gaius straightened up from where he had been watching mist reform into a crumbled brick. “If we walked away and fell into the waking world, we would be there. In the place these—” he gestured around them, “—columns and ruins represent, right?”
“Yes!” Rachel clapped her hands with delight at the simplicity of it.
“And then we could go ask a bunch of Greek or Arabic speaking people where we were. And they wouldn’t have an owl’s hoot of a clue what we were saying. Great plan.” Zoë rolled her eyes. “And how do we get back? Not a lot of people in the Middle East dreaming about Roanoke…unless we just so happen to run into Mrs. March again…which is not that likely. Who’s for violating our promise not to leave school grounds and getting expelled! Hmm? Raise your hand? Anyone?” She looked back and forth.
Rachel sighed. Siggy scowled.
“We could invite Mrs. March here,” said Joy. “She’s the princess’s family friend.”
“Is she?” asked Gaius. “She’s the conjured woman, right? The Grand Inquisitor’s wife? Why don’t we try to reach her on a talking glass? Maybe she’d know where this place is.”
Nastasia replied primly, “Dean Moth had a photo taken of the image that appeared in the thinking glass when I showed her this vision. I have no doubt that the Wisecraft will find it.”
“Wish I could get a photo back home.” Valerie snapped a picture. Everyone else covered their eyes from the glare of the flash. “My friend Wally could do an image search and see what came up.”
“That would only work if it is a mundane place,” Gaius replied. “If it is a place of the Wise, a place obscured from mundane men, it won’t show up on the Internet.”
“I will make the dean aware of Sigfried’s idea. Perhaps the Agents will ask for Zoë’s help. She could bring them here and let them drop out into the real landscape,” promised Nastasia. “I don’t believe there is more we can do.”
“There must be more we can do,” said Gaius. “This demon must be stopped.”
“At all costs,” murmured Rachel and Sigfried, simultan-eously.
“Not all costs,” Nastasia replied graciously. “The ends never justify the means. But, since this demon is a bad thing, we should be willing to do anything within our means that is moral to stop it. Even if it is difficult or requires great sacrifice.”
“You don’t hesitate when fighting evil,” Sigfried said, an angry grimness in his voice. “That thing nearly killed me! Besides, it was evil. Really evil. I could feel it. Doesn’t matter what you have to do to stop a thing like that!”
“It always matters,” admonished the princess. “We can fight bravely, of course, but not in a fashion that is immoral or unlawful. Rules are rules.”
“At any costs,” repeated Sigfried fiercely.
Rachel felt in her heart that he was right. And yet, her thoughts returned to her conversation with Vladimir about letting the world burn to save her sister. Hard as it was for her to say this, especially while recalling the horrible feeling she had experienced when the demon started to appear in Beaumont, she offered cautiously. “I guess not at any cost. I mean…we would not want to sacrifice the very things we wish to protect.”
“In other words, we do not want any Pyrrhic victories,” said Gaius, “which is appropriate, considering that we are discussing a deity worshipped by the Carthaginians. Oh…wait. Wrong Roman war. That would be a Punic victory, wouldn’t it?”
Rachel giggled.
There was something really cute about a boy who knew his Roman wars.
“Against pure evil, there are no rules,” Sigfried insisted, an angry light burning in his eyes. “Right, Lucky?”
“Course, boss,” said Lucky, in his gruff, dragon voice. “He killed the nice-smelling elf who let us roast marshmallows in her cheer-fire.”
“At the orphanage,” continued Sigfried, “you could always tell which of the new kids would end up as hamburger, and which would end up on top. The ones on top were those who were willing to do whatever it takes to win. Gouge eyes, bite ears, burn faces, whatever. You do what it takes, or you lose.”
“And we don’t want to lose,” added Lucky. “Losing is bad. We might lose important stuff, like our gold!”
“We have to be willing to do anything to stop this guy,” Siggy continued, “mow him down, blow him up, char him, fillet him, explode him, burn him, incinerate him. Whatever it takes.”
“No, Mr. Smith,” insisted the princess sternly, “only what is moral, legal, and proper.”
Nastasia spoke calmly, but Rachel could tell that her friend was extremely agitated. The subject was of extreme importance to her, yet Siggy was oblivious to the princess’s distress.
On the other hand, Rachel could tell that the issue mattered to Sigfried in a completely different way. There was a strange sort of emotion, almost panic, in Siggy’s eyes. Rachel wondered if he were seeing again the charred body of the Elf, or perhaps something from earlier in his life, some humiliation or beating he had seen or had done to him.
“That’s ridiculous!” Sigfried raged. “Proper? These guys did not throw down a gauntlet or issue a challenge or anything! We cannot tie our own hands! If the world is destroyed, what does it matter that we fought according to proper rules? If they are all ganging up on you, you fight dirty. You hurt them! Hurt them until they stop! You fight to win, or you are a nothing!”
“But if you do not behave morally, then you yourself become evil,” replied the princess. “Then you are also nothing.”
“If that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes!” Siggy declared fiercely. “He must be stopped! At all costs!”
The scene around them wavered and faded away. They were standing in a blurry haze.
“You are no longer my knight!” snapped Nastasia.
Sigfried’s eyes grew round with horror. “You…you can’t do that! Liege-lords can’t fire their vassals!”
“I may do as I like. You are dismissed.”
Sigfried looked utterly devastated. His expression wrenched Rachel’s heart.
Nastasia, however, had turned away. “Miss Forrest, I would appreciate if you would take these people out of my dream. I would like to wake up now.”
Back in Room 321, the group split up, heading in different directions. Siggy stomped from the room followed by Lucky, who faithfully tried to stomp in imitation of his master, but who really was not built for it, his claws scrabbling against the floorboards, and Valerie, who looked resigned. Nastasia, her face stony, set off in the opposite direction, followed by Zoë and a fawning Joy. As Rachel turned to go, Gaius caught up with her, touching her elbow.
“I nearly forgot.” He smiled at her. “I have something for you.”
“For me?” she asked.
“It’s yours. I wanted to return it.” Out of his pocket he pulled a familiar, thin, cedar box.
“Oh, my wand!” Rachel cried with delight. She took the box and slipped it into her pocket. “What did you find out?”
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I had to wait for William to get back. He was at O.I. helping put the final touches on that secret project I told you about. The one based on Blackie’s work. Looks like I might be able to tell you about it very soon. Which is good, because if we can find out where the demon is, their new invention might prove useful.
“Anyway, now that he’s back, I had William take a look at your wand. He discovered that vestal wands have the unique property that they are very good at catching incoming spells. If you can do an oré in time, or if you have some stored in the wand, you can catch spells being flung at you about fifty-five percent of the time. Which might not sound like a lot, but with a fulgurator’s wand, the percentage is closer to twenty-two. Apparently, this has been tested extensively.”
“Really!” Then, she sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m horrid at the oré cantrip.”
“I happen to be excellent at it, Miss Griffin.” Gaius gave her a cocky grin. “Maybe we could work something out.”
“Maybe,” Rachel replied, throwing him a coy, sideways glance.
He grinned, adding, “Also, William was able to determine what spells are currently stored inside the gem…beyond those you’ve added. There is an enchantment that will dispel a storm. A number of bey-athe shields. Seven, I think he said. Also, when I ran back to get this while you were talking to Nastasia earlier, I put a few bedazzlements in there for you—in case you guys need to get to dreamland quickly.”
“Thank you! That’s very thoughtful.”
“There was one more thing.” He grinned. “William says the wand also contains three charges of the Eternal Flame. That white and gold stuff that burns the innocent and doesn’t hurt the guilty.” He paused and then chuckled. “Oops…I meant the other way around.”
“Excellent!” cried Rachel.
“Let me emphasize,” said Gaius, “how rare and valuable that is! Vlad has some charges…because he’s a crown prince. But the Vestal Virgins don’t give the stuff to just anyone. Even Agents sometimes have trouble getting charges of it.”
“In other words, once I’ve used these three charges, I may never be able to get more,” said Rachel, adding, “The dean can conjure Eternal flames.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” Gaius sounded awed. “Being able to do that is a very, very rare gift.”
Rachel held up her wand. “I wonder if these flames would be effective against demons?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.” He smiled at her. “And now, unfortunately, I need to actually study. How are you feeling? May I walk you home?”
“Of course.”
Gaius offered his arm, which she took. He led her down the stairs and across the campus to the porch of Dare Hall. Once there, he leaned down and gave her a kiss, quick and sweet.
Ah. Perfect, thought Rachel, drifting off into girl heaven.
That night, in bed, Rachel recalled her day. It had been two parts joyful to four parts disturbing, and some of the more disturbing aspects had not really hit yet. She had been aware for some time of the diverging paths of the proper and rule-bound Nastasia and the rebel-who-lives-by-his-own-rules Sigfried, but she had not expected them to diverge quite so dramatically. Feeling as fragile as she did, Rachel did not know if she would survive being asked to take sides in their disagreement. If only she could go away until they were done sorting themselves out. Maybe she should take her sister Sandra up on her invitation to visit.
There was another reason to go to Sandra’s, as well. Today, it had been Sigfried who butted horns with the princess, but it could just as easily have been her. She was more eager to placate Nastasia than was her blood brother, but their philosophies were still at odds, especially when it came to rushing into danger versus obeying the adults.
But one reason Rachel constantly ran towards danger, flew at planes, and crashed the waltzes of the dead was because if she stood still, she would have to face the darkness that threatened to engulf her—darkness born of all the emotions she had thrust aside in order to stay calm. She needed a chance to confront the horrors she had encountered, to mourn, to weep, to be weak. And she needed a place to do this where her boyfriend could not see her.
No boy wanted a girlfriend prone to madness.
This would be doubly true for a boy who worked for Vladimir Von Dread—because losing one’s mind was just another way of saying one was too weak for the task at hand.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day’s few joyful parts. Seeing Illondria had been joyful. Rachel realized that she had forgotten to tell the others about her encounter with the elf woman. She made a mental note to do so the following morning. Were all ghosts solid in the dreamlands? Or was their Elf special because she had been a mistress of dreams in life?
She was relieved to have discovered that she was not a murderess after all; however, the fact that she had been willing to take responsibility for Sigfried’s decision to tell Valerie stayed with her. She suspected that however long she lived, she would bear the weight of it. Of all the things that had happened to her since the start of the school year, that one decision had changed her the most. In that one act, she had become a little less like the young girl who arrived at Roanoke and a little more like her grandfather.
Or, she thought, recalling their conversation by the koi pond, a little more like Dread.
The other joyful part had been the excitement with which Gaius greeted her news about the Library of All Worlds. His avid interest in her future plans delighted her. She continued to be impressed with how in sync she and her boyfriend were on, oh, so many things.
She had already decided not to hold his outburst this afternoon against him. Looking back through her memory, watching his face and his reactions, she realized that—in the same way that he had been too absorbed in the matter of his having been spied on to notice her distress, she had been too caught up in her excitement over sharing her secret to properly notice how upsetting he found much of what she had told him. The idea that scientific evidence might not be reliable and that his farm had not always been there had been very disturbing to him. Then, on top of that, he suffered the embarrassment of finding out he had been spied on when he felt so vulnerable.
She lay for a time, staring at the bunk above her and dreaming of their future life together. She imagined a library that somehow spanned worlds. The Elf had said that the worlds hung from the World Tree like fruit. Could a library be built inside the Tree, spanning its branches? Or maybe it should be built in Bavaria, some handsome edifice surrounded by forest. She could then work as a librarian, while he worked for the prince—most likely Von Dread would be happy to support such a venture.
Each idea formed a picture in her head, pretty and perfect like the photos on Yule cards. Some even showed their six children running hither and yon. Rachel pictured the littlest one, the future librarian, who in this particular fantasy was towheaded and dressed in beige lederhosen, nestled in her lap as she read.
And yet, despite all her thoughts of literary and domestic bliss, the scars of the agony she had felt, when Gaius announced that he was going to repeat things that she had told him in confidence, still ached. What would have become of her had the Elf not appeared? If she were not careful, next time it would be the keel, and not merely the rudder, of the ship of her soul that snapped.
Much as she was willing to forgive him, Rachel finally had to face the painful truth that a sixteen-year-old boy, however worthy, did not make a very good center of her universe.
She needed to pick someone else, someone wise to trust above all others.
Caw!
A very large Raven, with eyes that shone scarlet as blood in the darkness, flew through her window without bothering to open the glass. By the time he had entered the room, he looked like a man. Standing eight-feet-tall, he was incomparably handsome, with hair that fell about his face and shoulders like dark feathers. His chest and his feet were bare. Between them, he wore baggy black trousers that reminded Rachel of pirate’s garb. From his back spread a pair of truly enormous black wings.
A circle of gold hovered above him, glowing a warm buttery yellow. Its light filled Rachel with a diligent zeal. The emotional radiance ceased the moment he removed the circlet from over his head, but a soft golden light continued to issue from it. In its glow, Rachel saw that her sleeping roommates were completely motionless; not even their chests were moving. Near the bottom of her bed, Mistletoe had been caught by the time freeze in mid-stretch, which looked rather uncomfortable. The only thing that moved was the Comfort Lion, who opened one golden eye and then closed it again.
Rachel scampered from her bed and ran to stand before him, smiling up at him in her white, flannel, Victorian nightgown.
He gazed down at her. “I have come to make a request, Rachel Griffin.”
“Certainly!” cried Rachel. “Anything!”
“Would you ask the Romanov princess if she will return Illondria to her home in Hoddmimir’s Wood? It would be a kindness to allow the greatest of all Lios Alfar queens to speak with her husband one last time, before she must travel on to brighter shores.”
“Yes, of course. I will ask her,” promised Rachel.
Her heart beat with such excitement that Rachel could hardly hear herself thing. They would be accompanying the Elf to her homeland, perhaps see the broken World Tree with their own eyes? Rachel could not wait. It was all she could do to keep from running over and waking Nastasia right then and there. But she knew if she turned her back on the Raven, he would be gone, and there were things she wished to know.
As Rachel looked up at him, a question burst forth from her. “Please! Can’t you do for our Elf what you did for Enoch Smithwyck? Bring her back from the dead?”
The tall being shook his head sadly. “I foresaw Enoch’s fate and acted to shield him. I kept his spirit safe.” He paused. “You might understand better if you thought of it as if he had not been entirely dead. I had no such opportunity with Illondria. She was attacked by the machinations of my nephew and slain in a manner I had no means to subtly counter.”
“Oh.” Rachel looked down sadly. Then her head came up again. “What about Xandra? She helped Siggy. Could she…” Her voice faltered at the severity of his expression.
“Would you bring more woes down upon your helpless people? Another demon, perhaps? Or a worse one? Would you have Belphegor or Beelzebub or Amon himself walking your world? Do you think that is a price Illondria would willing pay for her restoration?” The Raven shook his head. “No. Xandra’s gift is one that, if used on this world, will always do more harm than good.”
Rachel gathered the skirts of her nightgown and curtsied. “Sir, may I ask one more question?”
“I cannot answer questions about matters within my world or pertaining to those living here. Such things must be dis-covered from within.”
“You mean, you won’t tell me where the demon’s place of power is? Things like that?”
The Raven nodded.
“Oh,” Rachel said, disappointed. She puffed up her cheeks and blew disconsolately, sending a stray lock of hair flying. Then she straightened and gazed up at him, her eyes wide and sincere. “What can I do to help?”
“To help whom?”
“You. What do you need?”
“Me? I need nothing. If you will carry this one message, that is all I need presently.”
“But…there must be something else I can do for you,” Rachel asked hopefully. “A task? A job you need done? Are you hungry?”
“I require nothing.”
“Not even to eat?” asked Rachel, visions of gathering treats from the dining hall to feed the Raven dancing in her head.
He shook his head solemnly. “I do not eat.”
“Oh.” She sighed, deflated. Then, a thought struck her. “You said I could not ask about your world. What about the Keybearers? Do they count as part of your world?”
“No. The Keybearers are part of a greater working. They are ones who have a high and weighty destiny before them—to undo a great harm.”
“Am I…” she swallowed, “…a Keybearer?”
“No, child. Your part is to provide the Keybearers with inspiration and support.”
“Oh.” Rachel lowered her head, uncertain what to make of this.
She felt both disappointed and relieved. If her future the Library of All Worlds, might that be better than what awaited her friends? Certainly, it sounded more to her liking.
“‘They also serve who only stand and wait.’” The Raven gazed off, as if looking into the distance. Turning back to her, he added, “Though you may find your part to be more active. And more pleasant.”
“Is this Keybearer destiny the same destiny that Joy and Nastasia are part of?”
“Not precisely. That destiny has to do with stopping Azrael.”
“But…we caught him.”
“True, but he has merely been imprisoned, not undone. Were he to be let go, or to escape, my brother would still be a danger.”
“Azrael is your brother?”
A great sadness came over the face of the Raven. “They are all my brothers.”
“Even the angels?”
He smiled ever so slightly and inclined his head.
“Are you an angel?”
The Raven paused for a very long time. “I am.”
Rachel gazed up at him, her eyes wide and dark. “Please, may I know your name?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She lowered her head. Recalling the name she had called in the dream she had after escaping the Headless Horseman, she asked, “May I call you Jariel?”
Something she could not quite identify crossed the Raven’s face. Surprise? Amusement? He glanced downward, turning the shining golden hoop in his hand this way and that, sending shadows dancing across the ceiling.
“That is not my true name,” he said presently, “but you may call me Jariel, if you wish. I will know that you address me.”
Rachel nodded and swallowed. She had hoped she had somehow discerned his real name.
“And now I must depart.”
“Goodbye…Jariel.”
“Good night, Rachel Griffin.”
Then, he was gone.
Standing in her nightgown, the floor cold beneath her bare feet, Rachel glanced from her cat, as he leapt from her bed, to her three sleeping roommates. She looked up at Nastasia’s bunk where a single pale hand was all that was visible of her roommate. She thought of Siggy asleep downstairs on his bed of gold.
Sighing, Rachel decided she really would go to visit her sister for the weekend. In fact, she would go right now. Grabbing her coat, she set off at a run for the glass room in the cellar of Roanoke Hall.