The Nightmare Garden

of other places knit and then split apart like wounded skin held by poorly stitched thread.

Austere and alien as the Mists were, though, they were largely devoid of iron, and that was important. Iron made me sick, made me see things. This endless windswept wilderness at least wouldn’t drive me insane, according to Conrad. If Conrad was sane. He certainly hadn’t appeared that way the last time we’d met, when he’d shown up and dragged me here with little preamble. That was the extent of his plan—the part he’d shared with me, anyway. Asking him questions just got silence or grumbling.

Really, I had only his word that he even had a plan other than hiding in the Mists for the rest of our lives, and I hadn’t been able to trust the word of anyone in my family in years.

And despite the lack of iron, I was still dreaming.

I’d fallen to the back of the group, my steps leaden and my thoughts heavier, and Dean slowed down to let me catch up.

“You all right?” He nudged my hand with the back of his and then wound our fingers together.

“No,” I said. “I’m hungry and I feel like my feet are going to fall off.” I’d taken sturdy boots from Graystone, but they were mud-spattered now, and one of the heels was starting to come away. My legs felt like logs, and my mind was fuzzy from lack of sleep. I’d felt this way before, during finals at the Academy, when I’d slept maybe two hours a night and crammed my brain so full I thought it would burst, but I’d never had to trek through a swamp on top of that. More than anything I wanted to shut my eyes and lie down in a patch of soft moss.

“I could use a break myself,” Dean said. “Hey, Connie!”

Dean had taken to calling my brother Connie, and I could see from the twitch of Conrad’s shoulders how much he hated it.

“Yes, Dean?” He turned his head slightly, but he didn’t slow his pace.

“Looks like the group’s voted for a sit-down,” Dean called.

Conrad turned fully to face us but continued walking. He’d always been quicksilver graceful, my brother, in a way I’d never been and never would be. It just wasn’t in me. I tried not to let it bother me as my holey boot filled up with water when I misstepped and put my foot in a soft patch of moss and muddy water. Back in Lovecraft, Conrad was the handsome one, the smart one, and I was, well, the shy, plain younger sister who was never quite as good at anything. Even according to the lore of the Gateminders, he was first in line, being the eldest son of the current Gateminder. I was just the girl. The second choice. The replacement, if neither my father nor Conrad could perform the duties, after all this was said and done—despite my being able to pass between Thorn and Iron, my being able to communicate with the Fae when Conrad had never even seen them. Still just the girl. It stung, and just once, I wanted him to figuratively fall on his face.

“I don’t care what the group wants,” Conrad said to Dean. “We stop when I say we stop, and we need to get through these woods before nightfall. You don’t know the Mists, Dean, despite what you are. You’ve spent your entire life in the Iron Land. I’ve spent almost a year here. The Mists aren’t Thorn or Iron—they’re treacherous, and I don’t want to get caught in an ambush because my baby sister’s feet hurt, so why don’t you two toughen up and accept that I know what I’m talking about?”

Dean snarled under his breath. To look at him, you’d never know he was only half human, but he was, and his other, Erlkin half had a bad temper when it was crossed. Conrad was like me, human blood poisoned with a drop of Fae. More than poisoned—saturated. But at least we weren’t like our mother, struck mad simply by virtue of living in the Iron Land, as all full-blood Fae like her would eventually be. Conrad and I, with our human father, were hopefully all right as long as we steered clear of iron. More than that, though, Conrad thrived and never seemed bothered by much. With his charm and force of will, Conrad could say anything and make it so. It merely annoyed me, but it made Dean furious, and to head off the fight that had been brewing for days, as the fog got thicker, the ground wetter and the food scarcer, I dropped Dean’s hand and jogged to catch up with my brother.

“We’re all tired,” I told him. “If you keep up this pace we’re just going to stop following you. We can’t run from the Proctors and the Fae if we’re dead of exhaustion.” My brother listened to me very rarely; I hoped this would be one of those times.

Conrad’s jaw twitched, and my hopes fell. “It’s not your call, Aoife,” he snapped.

“You’re right,” I agreed, through gritted teeth to avoid outright angry shouting. “It wasn’t my call to leave Lovecraft looking for you, it wasn’t my call to run here when the Proctors came for us. But I followed you, Conrad. I’ve done what you said without complaining for almost a week, and now I’m telling you I’m tired. You can walk.” I stopped and plopped down on a mossy stump. “I’m not going another step.”

The old Aoife would never have dreamed of disagreeing with anyone, but this new Aoife had no such compunctions. Her feet hurt, and I was glad she’d spoken up. She didn’t even care that Conrad was puffing up his chest, getting ready to chastise her like the father we’d never had. We stared at each other while the throaty call of a crow echoed from a nearby thicket. I wasn’t going to be the one to look away. I’d been glad of Conrad’s protection in our care-homes and at the Academy, but since he’d left, I’d realized I didn’t need him. He needed to see it now too. He was my brother, and I loved him, but the closeness of our old relationship had blown away with the ash from the ruined Lovecraft Engine.

“Well?” I said at last. Dean, Cal and Bethina, who’d been a chambermaid in my father’s house before a few days ago, stopped and clustered around me. Conrad had elected himself group leader, but so far they’d stuck with me. Not that I knew where we were going, or where we were going to stay when it got dark again. These were ancient forests, night forests, and who knew what was lurking in the shadows? In Lovecraft, things like nightjars, shape-shifting blood drinkers and springheel jacks, terrifying long-toothed predators, ruled the night along with the ghouls. And those were just the creatures who’d managed to slip through from Thorn and other places. Here in the Mists, this native land of theirs so far from Iron, if they caught us we’d be so much lunch meat. I felt a small, traitorous prick of pride at that and tried not to show it on my face. I’d managed to get us as far as the Mists. I tried to believe I could see us through to wherever we ended up, but I wasn’t very convincing, even inside my own head. Conrad did know the Mists, and I had no idea how to even find my way out of this wood.

Conrad folded his arms. “Aoife, you’re being a child.”

“I left her there, Conrad,” I said quietly, voicing what had been bothering me since the morning dream. “I left her to whatever might happen.”

Conrad sighed, shifting his feet. “Listen, when we get somewhere safe we can talk about this. Right now, we’re exposed and we need to keep moving.” He started walking again, until my words distracted him and he tripped.

“She’s our mother.”

My brother turned back to me, and his face was colder than I’d ever seen it. “Nerissa hasn’t been a mother to me for ten years, Aoife. To you either. She left us to the mercy of people who’d just as soon burn us alive, or cut us open and study us. She didn’t even try to keep us from that when she knew she couldn’t take care of us. Some kind of mother to do that.”

“I said I wouldn’t leave her there,” I told him. I’d promised her. No matter what she’d done, I’d promised that I’d keep her safe because she couldn’t do it for herself. That was what you did, when you had a mother, and I hadn’t managed to do anything except put her in more danger. Guilt made my stomach roil. “This is my fault,” I said, “all of it, but most of all Nerissa, and I have to—”

“Dammit, Aoife!” Conrad bellowed. The crows took flight in a ripple of glossy black against the silver sky. “Going back to the Iron Land and risking your neck won’t change what happened! You’re going to have to accept that so we can all stay alive.”

I wished he’d just slapped me. The hole that opened in me at his words was a hundred times more painful than any blow would have been. Because I knew he was right. My guilt was like a chain around my ankle, attached to a weight the size of my mother. If I couldn’t put the thoughts out of my mind until we’d reached safety, I’d drag them with me. But I didn’t know how. I swiped at my eyes, telling myself my face was damp only with cool fog, not hot tears.

“All right, now,” Dean said. “I think we’ve established neither of you is giving up this ghost, so why don’t we agree to disagree?” He helped me off the stump and put his arm around me. “And Conrad—how about shutting your big trap and not making your sister cry before I knock your teeth in?”

Conrad blinked once. “What did you just say to me?”

“Hey!” I clapped my hands. Boys could be like unruly dogs. Where was a bucket of water when I needed one? “I’ll keep going,” I told Conrad quietly. “But I’m not going to forget about this. I am going