“You like her.”Jake shook his head, a cat dislodging a few drops of cold water.“You really like her.”
“Aren’t we supposed to?”It was hard not to admire the Dreamers once you knew what they’d accomplished, even if the sacrifice was thousands of years ago.The fact that they kept continuing the fight—not to mention the relief they provided from the Mad God’s rancid, teasing, tempting whispers—just made the debt deeper.“Plus, she’s smart.A lesser woman would’ve given up by now.”
“I don’t thinkgive upis in this girl’s dictionary.”Grudging admiration underlined the words, which was a good sign.It was when Jake got dismissive and quiet that you had to look out.“You can finish my guard shift and take yours, then.”
“Why, you got a hot date?”
“With my pillow, bro.”Jake tipped him a salute, turned, and set off down the hall.He only went a few steps before swinging back around, though.“Listen, Erik…”
He waited, but silence filled up the hall like creeping, heavy gas in a mineshaft.Thatwasn’t like Jake at all, so Erik made a noncommittal noise.“Hm?”
In other words,I’m not going to judge you, spit it out.
“Nothing.Probably just tired.”Younger Brother’s shoulders dropped and he vanished down the hall, boots soundless as dry leaves on the back of a hard wind.
Erik watched that end of the hallway for a few long minutes, trying to decide if he was honestly worried or it was the god whispering in his head, sowing dissent and distrust.He stepped closer to theliraimdoor, but the pressure didn’t diminish.
However, an unfamiliar thought struck him.Yule was close.When the tide turned and the days lengthened they’d take her to a proper temple, and it would be Erik shoving her into the Flame until it took.She was going to hate him, but maybe he could get ahead of the curve just a little?
He settled next to the door, his shoulders against the wall, and thought it over.
Oneiros
Maybe Jake had been yelledat, because there were no more field trips for about two weeks.Instead, Liv was confined to the suite, and her temper rose in direct proportion to the number of days spent looking at the same however-many walls.Outside the mercury plunged, ice spreading flowery traceries over mullioned windows; the temperature inside never varied.
Meals came like clockwork on those silver trays.Ignatius visited every evening for at least a few moments, trying to convince her they weren’t so bad but giving no further explanations.
Of the three of them, only the dark-haired guy escaped her ire, mostly because he didn’t try to sugarcoat her captivity.He was also the one who would answer the most questions, though that was faint praise.Every time she asked about “sealing”Ignatius all but blushed, and she was getting a very bad feeling about the whole thing.
Especially since she was dreaming again.Every damn night, as a matter of fact, vivid color-soaked fantasies and nightmares striking the moment she closed her eyes.There was nothing to dobutsleep; pride wouldn’t let her ask for a television so at least she could keep up with daily soap operas.
Her grandmother had called themmy stories, gotta have my stories; Liv was thinking Gramma Poe, who got her first job at fifty-five because Gramps was retired and hanging around the house all day driving her crazy, had understated what living in a confined space did to your ability to watch ridiculous programming.
She was at the window when Erik tapped tentatively at the door; Liv was even distinguishing between the different emotional content of knocking now.
“You might as well come in,” she muttered, staring at the icy quad below—naked frostbitten trees, slippery stone paths, frozen grass, shivering bushes.It looked like the lowest circle of Dante’s hell.
At least they brought her books.She suspected she was going to have a helluva library by the time this finished—if there was, indeed, a finish line in sight.She was getting used to handing Ignatius lists with increasingly rare and recondite legal textbooks; if they couldn’t find an edition right away one of them would apologize like a maître d’ faced with an irate but very influential food critic.
If this kept up, she might even read a few of the deliveries.Brooding only took her so far, and maybe she could find some sort of legal remedy for after her escape.
That first step’s a lulu, Mom would have laughed.
Liv half-turned; it was indeed Erik, in his usual dark T-shirt, dark jacket, jeans, and a gun’s grip peeking out from under his left armpit.One of his hands was behind his back, and she eyed him warily.
If she could just get out of the room without a chaperone, she might have a chance at getting into one of those gun cabinets.Or maybe there was a back door in the kitchen.
Outside was where thosethingswere, sure.But if she had a weapon, maybe that “potential” they were always talking about would wake up and do something supernatural?
It wasn’t a bad assumption, but how could she ask?
“Ma’am?”Erik didn’t stutter, but it was close.She’d never heard any of them sound so tentative.“I mean, uh, Miz?—”
“It’s Liv.Just Liv.”God, they were all irritating asfuck.She had to get out of here somehow.“What doyouwant?”
“I just… you know…” He produced a small, brightly wrapped box—silver paper, plus a floppy blue bow which clearly wasn’t professionally done.In fact, he thrust it at her as if it contained a bomb.“Happy Yule.”
“Yule?”The package went blurry for a moment as her eyes filled with hot water; the box was heavy, resting in her numb fingers.“You mean Christmas?”
