“I’m not an opponent you and your friends should have taken on, pussycat. I have ruled Under since the dawn of man. Every fear your kind has ever had was put in your head by me. Did you really think you could best me?”
“No, ma’am,” I croaked.
Mara’s eyes were a terrible thing. “I’m sure Haden explained to you that he ages very slowly, that time passes differently here. But, my little rosebud, no human blood runs in my veins. I am immortal.” She loomed above me. Her voice changed. The soft, cultured voice grew an edge and a slight echo.
“Do you know how I eat?” I shook my head. “I steal into a man’s sleep. I sit on his chest while he dreams of me, and I leach the essence that binds him to your world, Theia. I eat the souls of men while I torment them with anguished pleasure.” She paused. “But that is how I survive, how I feed. Survival isn’t my only concern, pussycat. It’s not even my job. My real calling is to seed your realm with terror while you sleep.” She leaned down and spoke directly into my ear. “I am the mare, Theia. I am the origin of every nightmare ever born and I intend to drown you in them all.”
She hissed then. A horrible sound that spoke to every primordial fear I possessed.
“Humans are weak and pathetic. My son should have been proud of his blood, but instead he wanted to throw it away on a dying breed. Get up. Get up before I tire of you and decide to play with your friends instead.”
I struggled but managed to stand on shaky legs. I couldn’t let her drag them into this.
“What, you don’t want company? Just think of how you could share everything with them. Wouldn’t you like to see the world through Donnatella’s eyes, for instance?”
I whimpered. The women who attended me before the banquet saw the world through another’s eyes. “Please. Don’t hurt them. They didn’t know. It’s all my fault. . . . Please.”
“Weak, weak, weak,” she replied.
I tried to appeal to her motherly instinct. “I know you love Haden and you wanted only what’s best for him.”
“Child—” No longer did her voice even sound female. It rasped like a harsh whisper and creaked like the opening of a door to terror. “Demons do not love. Haden does not love. I want what is best for me.”
“You must have loved his father. You let him live.”
“It was an experiment. I wanted an heir.”
“Why?”
“You’re very impertinent.” A shaft of light coming through the windows did Mara no favors. It fell on her deceptive beauty like a truth serum, illuminating her real appearance beneath the glamours she coated herself with to appease her vanity and mislead those around her.
She noticed my vision had cleared, that I no longer saw what she wanted, but the ugliness of who she really was. Immorality is startlingly wretched.
Her cultured voice returned. “I didn’t love Haden’s father then and I don’t love Haden now.” Mara sneered at me, but for a moment she was unguarded. “I’d thought maybe I would,” she added softly.
I pretended not to notice her small pinch of weakness; it would only serve to make her defensive. I had a feeling what she meant was that she hoped they would love her.
Once again I felt the warmth that signaled Haden was near me. I didn’t understand how he’d become invisible or why he remained so. Even harder to fathom was why he chose to comfort me when only a short time ago it was he who put my heart into a wood chipper and smiled at the mess.
What had he meant at the cabin? What had Varnie forgotten in the conjuration?
None of it made sense. Why had Haden spent so much time seducing me only to hurt me before he got what he really wanted? Surely Mara would have been happy for him to roam the halls of Serendipity High leaching essence everywhere he went. So why the subterfuge?
“You’re going to help me get Haden back,” Mara proclaimed. Covering her moment of weakness, she continued. “You will then bear a child. I will not make the same mistakes with this one. But don’t fret, I will allow you to watch as I raise your babe to be a demon worthy of this realm. And don’t think Haden will rescue you or your damned child.”
I wasn’t sure what to think about Haden, not really. He’d shown himself to be as callous as his mother. And yet I couldn’t forget how he’d yearned to be human. Perhaps that had been as much of an act as the rest. Would he allow another child to be raised in this place? I didn’t know.
But I wouldn’t.
“Lamb,” Mara said, and I flinched at Haden’s endearment coming from her mouth, “you probably think you can turn him against me like you’ve done in the past. It won’t happen. Not this time. The first thing we’re going to do together is make sure Haden’s human soul is well and truly disposed of before we bring him back. No sense in risking a reunion.”
My head jerked up in surprise. “His soul?”
Mara narrowed her eyes. “Are you playing the fool or are you really that stupid?”
I had to answer. “I’m really that stupid, ma’am.”
She laughed. Not a pleasant laugh, but rather the kind that causes goose bumps to rise and hearts to race. “You and your friends invoked a demon, Theia. A human soul can’t travel through an invocation spell. He’s still here, trapped like you.”
Like a quiver to my heart, the realization hit me. Haden was here. The Haden that I loved—the one that loved me. He’d been trying to make me understand.
And he did have a soul.
The warmth of him brushed against my arm, and for a moment I let myself revel in the blush of love. And then, of course, I realized how much I had to lose.
“I was prepared to stay,” I ventured.
Mara only raised a brow and gestured for me to continue. “I love him that much. I would have stayed. If we could be together. I still want to.”
“You’re foolish to admit your weakness to me, Theia.”
My mother’s necklace felt heavy on the skin over my breastbone. “I have a good many weaknesses, ma’am. Loving Haden isn’t one of them.”
“Why are you telling me this? Do you think I will pity you? You forget who I am.”
I closed my eyes so I could see him. He shook his head at me, concerned that I was putting myself in more danger. What more danger was there?
I couldn’t linger with him, though I wanted to, so I opened my eyes to Mara again. “Neither one of us asked to be rescued by my friends. It felt like being ripped in two when they dragged me away from him. I didn’t want to leave. I want to be here, with him. You don’t have to force me to stay, to marry Haden.”
“You should not trifle with me. It matters not what you want.” There—a slight inclination of her head led me to believe part of her did care. Not about me, likely, but Haden.
“I can make him happy . . . here. He’ll stay willingly. We’ll raise a family and your legacy will come true. He’ll take his place, just like you want.”
She shrugged. “Well, of course he will. Now that your friends have done the hard part and separated him from his weak human side, he’ll be more than willing.”
I exhaled. I had to tread very carefully here. “You’ll win, no matter what, but wouldn’t you rather win on the original terms? Haden, as a demon only, will do your bidding because it costs him nothing. Wouldn’t it mean more if there was a choice and he chose you willingly? If he gave up the human realm because he wanted to stay?”
I danced on a very thin layer of ice.
“You amuse me, Theia. Do you think I can’t tell if you are lying?”
“I’m not lying. I swear. I love him and I’ll do anything to save him. I will stay.”
“You swear you’ll stay?”
Haden roared in fury, but it did no good. He tried grabbing Theia, but his hand went right through her. She was ignoring him now, caught up in a futile battle for his soul. He couldn’t stop her. He was useless. He couldn’t warn her. He needed to warn her.
Never make deals with the devil.
Haden tried his mother next. He launched himself ont
o her, trying to distract her from the conversation before any oaths were cemented. Mara barely batted her eyelashes and he was thrown across the room and into the wall by the force of her will.
She smiled coolly at Theia. “Tell me again, love. Promise me you’ll stay. You’ll spend the rest of your life in Under? You won’t try to escape? Not ever?”
Haden, though he had no body, felt a twinge that began at the base of his spine and shot dancing sparks through his nerves. Something was happening. He crawled back to Theia, fighting the tugging sensation assaulting his body. He had to reach her before it was too late.
Theia brought her hands to her heart. “I swear. Spare Haden’s soul and I’ll stay. I’ll be a dutiful daughter to you. ” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I only ask that you don’t hurt my friends and family.”
“We’ll need blood,” his mother said, pulling a pushpin from Haden’s bulletin board.
God, no.
“It’s just a ritual, lamb.” She smiled, and Theia trembled. “ To bind our promises to each other.” She held out her hand for Theia’s, poking them each with a gleeful punch of the pin. “I swear I won’t harm Haden’s soul or any of your friends or family. I promise this to you, Theia. I’ll be the mother you never had.”
Theia bit her lip and tried to hold back any more tears. Such a brave one, his girl.
Haden watched in horror as his mother touched her bleeding finger to Theia’s and they mixed their blood. No matter how loudly he yelled, Theia didn’t hear him. His warning was lost forever.
“ You, Theia, swear to me that you’ll never try to escape. You’ll stay here, as my daughter-in-law. Do you swear?”
Whatever was pulling him was strong. He couldn’t leave Theia, not now. She didn’t know what she was promising; she couldn’t understand. But it was like fighting gravity. He called out her name and felt himself disintegrating. He heard her say, “I swear.” And then there was nothing.
UP IS DOWN
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Haden
The fuzzy moment between sleep and wakefulness was my worst time. It always felt like I was standing on the edge of the world, like if I could just grasp something familiar to hold on to, I would be me again. But I never was.
I wasn’t anyone.
They told me I had a name, Haden. It took a while before they told me the rest.
This time felt different before I even opened my eyes. Surprised by the thicket of thorns surrounding me instead of the boring white walls I’d become accustomed to, I woke up and was kneeling on damp grass on hands and knees instead of lying on the air mattress in Varnie’s guest room. It could have been a dream, but it didn’t feel like one.
I pushed off the ground, wiping my wet hands on the flannel pants I’d worn to bed. It was still dark, though torches blazed every few feet, lighting what appeared to be a path through the overgrown hedge. I took one from its sconce and turned in a slow circle, trying to light the shadows. I wasn’t scared, exactly, but I was wary.
Fog swirled in curls around me, like it had been painted to the air. In the distance I heard the sweetest melody. It was a tinkle of sound at first, but once it got to my ears, it stayed there, caressing the inside of my head with the most pleasant, soothing sounds.
I moved towards the music, thinking briefly of the chapter in my schoolbook about the legends of the sirens that lured men at sea to their death with song. Part of me didn’t care. It felt as if I’d been waiting for this. As if I needed it.
The path narrowed as I walked farther into the brambles. Twigs with barbs the size of my thumb poked me with razor-sharp points. I turned to see where I’d been, but the path behind me was no longer lit. Only the black shadows remained, like dark holes punched into the world.
Déjà vu preceded every step I took forward now, but then, that was pretty much how my life had been since I’d woken up in the cabin. Always on the cusp of remembering, but never quite realizing the memory. I continued down the narrowing path, trying to block the briery needles of the hedge. I couldn’t do a very good job of it; my arms and chest were bare and vulnerable. I didn’t like that feeling.
The closer I drew to the music, the more I wanted to be near it. It wasn’t a sweet song now. There was a melancholy mood tangled in it, and all the notes blended together into a symphony of sound designed to break a heart, it seemed. Behind me, the brambles had closed off completely. In front of me, the path had shrunk to a low tunnel. I had to go to my knees and eventually my stomach as I crawled through. I couldn’t go back anymore; there was only forward.
Careful of the flame, I inched through the small opening as the sticks caught my clothes and hair and poked my skin. I didn’t think I would make it. I was trapped and thought I might die in the bushes.
And then, suddenly, there was sunshine.
I rolled to my feet, surprised to find myself in a world of vibrant color. The bushes I had come from were gone and there were rolling hills of green grass and bright flowers as far as the eye could see.
And the music played on.
I climbed a short hill in front of me. As I crested, the sight of the girl stole my breath.
She sat in a wooden chair overlooking a river that sparkled like it was crusted in diamonds. She didn’t notice me as she played her violin. Her eyes were closed and she was in her own world, while mine came crashing down around me.
Theia.
They’d shown me pictures of her, and I’d thought she was pretty. What wasn’t to like? The pictures hadn’t triggered any memories, though, like everyone had hoped they would. She was just a pretty girl in a photograph to me.
In the flesh, she was so much more than pretty. She looked like a garden nymph—the sense of everything in the world that was fresh and pure. A wreath of daisies encircled her hair, the bouncy curls the color of honey and caramel. She wore a simple sheath of white and slippers like a dancer would wear.
I realized I must be dreaming. Nobody could be that beautiful. It was as though she pulled the light from the sun and it danced on her skin and hair, throwing glints of raw brilliance at me. And her song . . . the music that wrapped around my insides and brought me to her was not sweet. I didn’t know now how I could have mistaken it as such. It was so poignantly sad that it made my heart stagger on its own beat.
Her eyes opened. I knew Theia sensed me there. She lowered her instrument and turned her head to look at me. The distance between us pulsed with energy. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare blink. I was afraid she would disappear.
Even though I didn’t remember her, I felt that I would have recognized her in any realm, in any life. Theia had woven herself into me; she was part of me, in my blood. I knew how she would taste, how the rush of her skin would feel under my palm. I knew she could put me back together, the puzzle of the boy who wasn’t.
I waited for a sign, for her to do or say something. But she just looked at me. She swallowed hard, drawing my gaze to her lovely, slender throat. God, I knew how she smelled.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said finally. Though her words sank into my gut like a fist, the sound of her voice was magic, awakening every cell in my body.
“You’re Theia,” I said lamely. I wished I could recall some of the previous swagger they’d told me I used to have. I knew I sounded simple. Foolish.
She smiled wryly at my awkwardness. “Aye.”
I took a step towards her and she shook her head.
“Please,” I said.
“No, Haden. Not another step.”
Why? “You should come back with me.”
Her voice cracked. “I can’t. Please, you have to leave.”
“I can’t leave you here. I just found you.”
“It’s not safe,” she warned.
I shook my head. “I know that. That’s why you need to come with me.”
She stood slowly, setting her instrument and bow on the seat of the chair. She turned to face me head-on. I wanted to touch her more than I wante
d to breathe.
“I can’t leave. But don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine here.” She smiled with her mouth, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not the one in danger anymore.” She licked her lips, her tongue darting out in a suggestion that I felt in my weakening knees. “It’s not safe for you, lamb.” She tilted her head and regarded me with a hunter’s gaze. “After all, the darkness in me wants you the way a black hole eats stars.”
When the alarm shrilled loudly, I thought maybe my heart had stopped. I shot off the low bed and tried to catch up. A dream. It had been a dream.
A bad, yet oddly erotic one.
I stumbled into the kitchen where Varnie was pouring coffee, already dressed except for his turban. “You look like shit,” he said and handed me a cup of steaming French roast.
This coming from the world’s most awkward female impersonator. “Thanks. You’re the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen, by the way,” I answered back.
“No, seriously. What the hell happened to you?” He gestured to my bare chest.
I looked down and saw that I was covered in scratches and dried blood from the brambles. My hand fumbled on my cup and I dribbled hot coffee onto my already raw skin. “Christ,” I yelled and grabbed a towel. I met Varnie’s eyes. Not a dream then. “I saw her.”
Varnie stared back at me for a few long seconds. His eyes were wild with excitement and a little terror, and they clashed with the blue eye shadow that tried to make him look matronly. “Theia? You went to Under?”
“I think so.”
“She’s alive, then? Is she okay?”
“She’s beautiful,” I blurted. God, I hated it when stuff just flew out of my mouth like that. It was almost always something stupid. “She looked healthy. She said she wasn’t in danger.”
Varnie set down his mug and started pacing. “Did you try to bring her back with you? What happened? The girls are going to be pissed when they find out you saw her and left her there.”