Bloodstone

I made a point of not looking toward the kitchen. “Probably sleeping. We took a long walk.”

“Oh. Well, rub his tummy for me, okay?”

Heat rose in my face as my color turned beet-red. Any tummy-rubbing I gave Kane would have to wait until things were back to normal. And it would not be on Tina’s behalf.

Tina headed for the front door. I picked up Russom’s from where it lay on the coffee table. “Wait a second,” I said. “Mab did mention you. She said you needed to work harder on the individual species of the Inimicus genus.”

“That’s what she told me, too.”

“So I guess you can hang on to my copy of Russom’s a little longer. I’m not using it right now.”

She grinned and reached for the book.

“But,” I added, pulling back slightly, “we need to be clear on one thing. I’m still not taking you back as an apprentice. You do understand that, right?”

Tina nodded, her eyes on Russom’s like it was a container of butter-pecan ice cream and not some dry old textbook about demons. “Yeah, sure. I understand. I just want to, you know, brush up.” I let her take the book, and she hugged it to her chest. “If you need somebody to stay with your aunt again, give me a call, okay?” She let herself out.

Wow. Tina offering to do somebody a favor. I stood and stared at the closed door like maybe another miracle would happen. I could use one right about now.

I WENT TO BED BEFORE DAWN, BUT FOR A LONG TIME I LAY on my back on the sofa, unable to sleep. When I did drift off, I found myself in my usual dreamscape, an endless space of soft twilight. Sort of how I imagined it would feel to float in a warm ocean at midnight. Empty and restful.

Something stirred in the darkness, a small pulse in the air like a soft sigh. It pulsed again. As I watched, it took on form and color, becoming a small pink cloud. The cloud hiccupped and grew a little larger. Sky blue streaks swirled up among the pink.

I peered through the colors to see a young face peering back at me.

“Hi, Maria.”

“Yes! I did it!” She pumped her fist. “I called you.” My niece stood in the middle of a vast, colorless dreamscape, like an actor on an empty stage.

“You certainly did. But isn’t it a school night?”

“Nope. Tomorrow’s an in-service day. That means the teachers have to go to school, but the kids stay home.” She did a little happy dance. “I really called you! It wasn’t too hard, either.”

“It gets even easier with practice. For example, you can fill in your dreamscape with whatever scenery you want. You can make it look like you’re in your bedroom at home, or you can make it look like you’re a princess sitting on a throne in a big castle.”

“Princess stuff is for little kids.”

“Well, whatever you want.”

“Can you show me how?”

“Sure. Start by closing your eyes.”

“My eyes are already closed. I’m sleeping.”

“Inside your dream. When you’re getting started, imagining is easier with your eyes closed.”

She screwed her eyes tightly shut.

“Relax a little. Believe it or not, the harder you try, the more difficult it gets.”

Her face smoothed out as she let some of the tension go.

“Good. Now, think of somewhere you’d like to be. Somewhere fun.”

“The beach.” Each summer, the Santinis spent a week’s vacation on Cape Cod.

“Good choice. Now, imagine you’re there. Feel the sand under your toes, the warm sun on your back. What do you hear?”

“Seagulls. And the waves coming into the shore.” She turned her head a little and sniffed. “Vicky! I can smell the salt water!”

“Perfect. Hold all that in your mind.” As she did, a seascape sketched itself around her. Colors and shapes filled in—a beach umbrella, a plastic bucket, a sandcastle decorated with shells. “Ready? Open your eyes.”

She did, and her eyes went wide with amazement. Her pajamas had changed to a bright pink bathing suit, and pinkframed sunglasses perched on top of her head. She spun around, laughing, and ran to splash in the water. “It’s cold!” she shouted. “Just like at the Cape!”

“You can warm it up if you want. It’s your dream.”

“Really?” She closed her eyes again. Then she opened them and threw herself into the water. She dived into the waves, arcing through them like a porpoise. Briefly, a gleaming porpoise superimposed itself on her as she swam. I saw both Maria and the animal she’d be if she shifted right now.

Interesting. Maria’s shapeshifting abilities might be developing faster than we’d realized.

But when she ran back up the beach, water streaming from her hair, she was all Maria, an eleven-year-old girl having fun. She looked around for a towel, but there wasn’t one. She closed her eyes, and a towel patterned with seahorses draped itself around her shoulders.

“That’s what your mom and I were talking about when we said you’re in charge of your dreams. Eventually, you won’t even have to close your eyes to make things happen.”

“Cool!” She sat down on the sand and tipped her head back to look at the clear blue sky. “Thanks for teaching me, Aunt Vicky.”

“I think that was a pretty good first lesson. Now we should both get some real sleep.”

Maria drew lines in the sand with her finger. Studying them, she asked, “What did Mom tell you about my great-aunt? When she made me go outside.”

One thing Gwen was right about—Maria shouldn’t hear that story. I did my best to answer without answering. “Your mom is a good person. Aunt Mab is a good person. But there’s a misunderstanding between them that probably can’t be fixed. It’s sad, but sometimes things happen that way.”

“If it’s a misunderstanding, can’t you talk to Mom?”

“I don’t think it would help. Not after all this time.”

“Aunt Mab’s colors were so pretty. And she wanted to help you. I don’t believe she’d do anything bad.”

“She didn’t. But you still have to obey your mom. When she says that she and I are the only people you can talk to on the dream phone, you listen.” In her current condition, I didn’t think Mab had the strength to use the dream phone, and I didn’t want Maria trying to call her.

“Okay. But maybe Mom will change her mind.”

Not on this issue. Not unless she could travel back in time and turn around at the right moment, to see what Mab had saved her from.

“Now I’m going to show you how to hang up the dream phone. You know what you did to call me?”

“I thought about your colors.”

“Do that again.” She immediately closed her eyes. “In your mind, make them rise up so it looks like I’m standing in the fog.” As she concentrated, her own colors rose up around her where she sat in the sand. They swirled around her waist, then her shoulders. When the pink and blue tendrils of mist touched her face, I said softly, “Good night, Maria.”

My dreamscape returned to its empty, dim twilight. I heard the faint cry of a seagull, and then Maria’s voice, like an echo from far away, bidding me good night.

28

WHEN I WOKE, IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON. I REMOVED THE splint from my wrist and moved my hand. It was a little weak, but it felt fine. I crept down the hall to check on Mab, who slept. I couldn’t see her in the darkened room, and I didn’t want to wake her by turning on the light, but I listened to her breathing for a while. Slow and even, punctuated from time to time by a tiny snore. No wheezing or struggling for air. Mab was hanging