“My question is, why are you so determinednotto believe them?”
“Because it’s impossible. Dreams have no precognitive powers, and they’re not microphones into other dimensions?—”
Aline held up her hand. “Ah, I believe I’ve heard this lecture before. As I recall, scientists know very little about the truenature of dreams, so I think one theory is just as relevant as the others.”
“You’d be wrong,” I snapped.
Aline ignored my rude comment. “Very well. Let’s assume what you say about dreams is true, and they are your subconscious mind interpreting signals from your brain to process important information. Corbin’s appearance might be your subconscious alerting you to facts or discoveries your waking mind hasn’t put together yet. Did Corbin speak to you in this dream? Maybe he told you something strange or coincidental?”
I frowned. Aline was right. My brain was such a pile of mush right now, I wasn’t thinking as clearly or logically as I usually did. My brain might be using my dreams to sort through all this confusing magic stuff and create some kind of logical framework. I thought back to Corbin’s words in my dreams. “He said he died to stop the villagers from killing us, and also because he figured out that any agreement we made with the fae would be useless unless it included the demons, too.”
Clara’s eyes danced. ‘He’s bright, that lad. None of us even thought about the demons.”
“It’s not Corbin! It’s just my subconscious. But yes, I guess that makes sense. Daigh dragged the demons into this so if we strike a deal with Liah after we defeat the Slaugh we’ll have to include them, too.” I didn’t bother telling them about Corbin trying to speak to the demon ruler, because that was obviously my dream state inventing details.
“Did he say anything else?” Aline leaned forward.
“He said that Daigh traded his powers with the king of the demons, which we already guessed. And that Daigh’s planning something that will be disastrous for humans and fae alike.” I wiped one of my fallen tears off Arthur’s cheek, hating the way my fingers pressed into his waxy skin. “It’s all so stupid. Daigh’slocked away in Raynard Hall. He has no powers. He’s not a threat any more. Oh, and Corbin also said he’d done this in secret on purpose because I never would have let him try it if I’d known, but that he had a way to get himself back to the land of the living. It’s just wishful thinking by my subconscious.”
He also kissed Rowan.That kiss ached in my heart because I wished it had been real, and that I could feel Corbin’s warm lips on mine one last time.
“What did he – I mean, your subconscious mind – say about coming back?” Clara leaned against the door, tightening her black shawl around her shoulders.
“He said, ‘I wrote it all down for you,’ and Rowan found some Post-it notes on one of his spellbooks. I think it was the one you brought from the Soho Coven. It was something about the Mysteries of Lazarus.” I waved my hand. “I didn’t look at the notes. Corbin wrote a lot of Post-Its. They were stuck all over his books. It doesn’t mean he had a plan. That’s why I fought with Rowan, and Blake stepped in on Rowan’s side which is fucking ridiculous. I don’t know where they are now, and I…”
Weariness swept over me, and I found myself unable to recall the words I wanted to use. I sagged against the bed, meeting Arthur’s lifeless eyes and begging the warrior inside to wake up and fight again for me.
“Maybe, all you need to bring Corbin back is tobelieve,” Aline cooed.
“Belief is nonsense,” I murmured as sleep overcame me. “It’s an opiate for the masses without scientific justification...”
Aline’s hand rubbed circles on my back. Clara and Aline talked together, but their words blurred into a dull roar. I leaned my head against Arthur’s chest, timing my breath with the steady rise and fall of his chest as the machines kept air circulating through his body.
Arthur, if you’re still in there, come back to me. We need you.
My eyes fluttered shut, and I drifted into sleep.
I stood in the dark hallway again, listening to the piercing screams from behind the doors. Corbin faced me, his hands in his pockets, a sad expression in his kind eyes. That weird lump of ancient metal still hung from a chain around his neck, and the handle of the bone knife bobbed in his side.
“I don’t know how to convince you I’m real,” he said, his voice resigned.
“Come back to me,” I shot back. “Appear in the hospital as flesh and blood. That’s the only way.”
“I can’t. You’re going to have to bring me back, Maeve. And the only way to do that is to believe.”
“That’s the hokiest thing you’ve ever said,” I folded my arms. “You sound like my mother, who I was just talking to before I fell asleep, so that explains why you’re parroting her. You’re not even a very convincing illusion.”
Corbin shrugged. “If you won’t listen to me, maybe I’ve found someone else you’ll trust.”
He swung his hands around, trailing the dust from the ends of his fingers so it formed strange shapes, almost like runes in the air. I gasped as the dust settled in the air, floating still and forming a faint outline of a body. A body with impossibly broad shoulders and a big, bushy Viking beard.
Arthur.
My mouth dried up. My heart shrivelled into a raisin as the grief hit me in a wave. It rocked through my body, shattering the thin veneer of control I’d managed to exert over my emotions. I gasped as pain tightened my chest.Don’t let me lose him, too.
“He can’t speak,” Corbin said, placing a hand on Arthur’s dusty shoulder. Arthur inclined his head toward Corbin’s hand, as if agreeing with him. “He’s halfway between this world and yours. I nearly had a heart attack when I found him. What’s going on up there, Maeve? Why does Arthur have one foot in his grave?”
As if answering Corbin’s question, Arthur raised his arm. Even though he was only dust and air, I could make out a long dent in his skin where he’d cut himself. Corbin sucked in his breath when he saw it.
