something here to help anchor her. It would be good for her to be hooked in to a place, as well as to people. ‘“ Vic’s initial cheer had faded somewhat, and he and Lucas studied each other warily. Lucas said, “I’m not sure about — about this.” About being around Vic, he meant. About being around any human for long.
Vic blurted out, “I’m daubed.”
“What?” Lucas looked confused; I couldn ‘ t blame him.
“I mean, I got my parents to send me some holy water, which took, like, some serious explaining, and now I think they believe I want to become a priest, which, come on, hardly, but they sent it. I keep it in a cologne bottle on my desk. And now I’m daubed.” Vic yanked open the neck of his shirt; his hula — girl painted tie swung slightly. “Holy water. daubed all over my neck. So even if you did lose it and bite me, which I’m hoping You’re not going to do, it would burn. Like biting into a — a. . jalapeno pepper. Me equals jalapeno pepper. So you’d back off immediately.” He glanced around at the rest of us. “Right?”
“Urn, maybe?” That was as much as Patrice could come up with; the rest of us had nothing.
Lucas obviously was as nonplussed as we were, but slowly, he nodded. “You know, weirdly, that helps. I don’t think we should be alone up 116 here, but — yeah. Okay.”
Vic relaxed a little. There was still distance between them, but less. Maybe Lucas could get the hang of being around a human if it was one he couldn’t easily bite; maybe their friendship could start to heal. “Come on, man. I haven’t kicked your ass at chess in more than a year. Time for you to learn some humility.”
Ranulf said, “He now challenges you because he can no longer defeat me.” Vic mock — shoved him away from the chessboard.
Lucas handed me my bracelet, and I slipped it on, taking form again. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could just spend time witl1 my friends like anybody else. It was as close to normal as I could possibly get. “This is going to work. You ‘11see.”
“Yeah.” Lucas said. But I knew he remained uneasy about Vic and the rest of it.
Give it time, I told myself, and him, too.
As dusk came earlier and the leaves began to cover the ground more tl1ickly than the branches of trees, Lucas gave me back my bracelet for good. He kept my brooch, so I could reach him at any time. But, at Patrice’s suggestion, I hid a small box beneath a loose stone in the wall, and I stored the bracelet there. That way I could reach it anytime I wanted to turn solid.
“If anything happened to me or my stuff, I wouldn’t want you to be stuck,” Lucas said as he placed it into my hand.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I insisted, but I knew he was right. I just couldn ‘ t have guessed how quickly events would prove it.
Later that night, Lucas and I decided it was time for me to try entering his dreams again. “This time I’ll know you’re coming,” he said, obviously trying hard to psych himself up for it. “That’s going to help me break out of the pattern of the nightmare.”
His one assumption — the way he matter — of — factly said nightmar told me that all his dreams were nightmares, now.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said. Although I felt sure it was true, it felt a little like a lie. I hadn’t mentioned the mysterious scratches I’d received during his dream about the fight with Erich. They had stopped hurting very quickly and had completely vanished after only a few days. Besides, they were only scratches. How much could something like that injure me? 117 Lucas, I decided, was already too worried about me. If I got some kind of mystical bruise or scratch while visiting his dreams, it Wouldn’t mean much afterward — but if he was concerned about it before we began, it could infect his mind and maybe his dreams. He needed an escape from that anxiety, not another reason for it. I knew it was best to remain silent.
After hours, I drifted downward into Lucas’s and Balthazar’s room, where they were clearly in the last stages of getting ready for bed. I didn’t announce myself — I knew Lucas would sense my presence — but wished I had when Balthazar promptly stripped off his uniform.
His whole uniform.
“Uh, Balthazar?” Lucas said.
“Yeah?” Balthazar threw his boxers in the laundry hamper. I was trying hard not to look, but what sliver of a view I’d gotten was exactly the kind of thing that made me want to look more.
“You get that we’re not exactly alone, right?”
Balthazar froze for a second, then quickly grabbed a pillow and held it in front of himself. “When I said that about following me into the shower, I was joking. Bianca!”
I traced a shaky word in lines of frost across their window: Sorry!
Lucas scowled. “When were you two joking about her showering with you?”
Balthazar, trying to get his bathrobe on without dropping the pillow, scowled right back. “I’m going to the communal bathrooms for privacy. Which is pathetic, but that’s what we’re stuck with.” He grabbed his pajamas and hurried out.
Into Lucas’s ear, I whispered, “I wasn’t talking about showering with Balthazar.”
“I know,” he said, flopping back onto the bed. “I trust you. I just like giving him hell sometimes. It’s fun.”
“Ready?”
He nodded, taking a deep breath, as if already trying to calm himself toward sleep. “Yeah. Let’s try it.”
Within half an hour, Lucas was sound asleep, and Balthazar was apparently taking the world’s longest shower. I waited for the rapid movements of Lucas’s eyelids and thick lashes before gathering myself together and taking the long. deep dive into what I hoped would be the world of his dreams.
That world took substance around me. However, my triumph faded as I realized where we were: in the shabby, abandoned movie theater where 118 Lucas had been killed. He stood several steps ahead of me in the lobby. One hand clutched a stake, and the other covered his nose and mouth. I didn’t understand why until I smelled smoke and realized that was the reason for the haze around us.
From the movie screen came a warm flickering that I knew wasn’t a movie — it was a fire.
Yeah, it’s another nightmare, I realized. Now to see if I can wake him up.
Before I could speak, Lucas said, “Charity.”
“Hello, baby.” Charity emerged from the shadows. She didn’t say baby like it meant honey or sweetheart, more like she was talking about an actual infant. The firelight danced in her pale curls. Her long, lacy dress was clean for once — only in dreams. “How is my dear baby tonight?”
“Let me go,” he said. His voice broke on the words.
“Cuuldu ‘l ifl wauted lu.” Site wiled liiuwpltautly. “Aud I duu ‘l wautlu.”
“Lucas,” I said. “It’s okay. Don’t look at her. She’s just a dream. Look at me.”
But he didn’t look at me. I stepped between him and Charity, hoping to break the dream spell that kept him from fully recognizing me, but it did no good. He only looked through me, as ifl weren’t even there.
“Are you searching for Bianca?” Charity’s concern would have sounded genuine to anyone who didn’t actually know her. “She might be trapped in the fire. You must save her!”
Lucas ran from her, straight toward the flames. As I whirled to go after him, Charity said, “He’s mine now, Bianca. You’ll never have him again.”
How was it possible for Charity to see me when Lucas hadn’1 been aware of my presence, when she was only part of his nightmare?
Her eyes locked with mine. Her smile changed character until it was less defiant, more conspiratorial. Almost as if we were in on a joke together. How could that happen in Lucas’s dream?
It couldn’t.
I realized she Wasn’t part of his nightmare. She was the cause. This wasn’t a dream of Charity; this was the real thing. Here. In Lucas’s mind. She must have seen the realization on my face, because her grin widened, showing her fangs. “I told you. Lucas is mine.”
Chapter Twelve
