Etched in Bone
Page 119
She didn’t take the water, so he sat on the other side of her and put the glass on the floor. Her brain wasn’t working right, and that worried him. It was like she was stuck between seeing the images of prophecy and seeing the physical world and she couldn’t shake herself free.
Then Tess said, “Speak, prophet, and we will listen.”
Responding to the promise and command in the words, Meg kept her eyes on Tess and told her listeners everything she could remember. She told them about the cards she’d drawn yesterday and what came after the events the first three cards had revealed. She told them the details of the dream—details that provided substance, context.
Had Meg always seen this much detail but had been trained to compress what she saw into a series of images that someone else would interpret? Or was this like Jackson’s prophet pup, Hope, who could draw a few lines that could be recognized as a howling Wolf but could also make a detailed drawing that would reveal a specific Wolf? Maybe these kinds of dreams were the only way Meg’s brain could tell her more when she wasn’t cutting.
Vlad’s voice. Soothing, almost seductive, asking about details. Any rings on the hand? Color of skin? Could she see the color of the clothes in the moonlight?
She answered his questions. She didn’t smell lusty like she did when she cut herself and then spoke prophecy, but her voice had the same dreamlike quality it had during those times.
Meg closed her eyes and sagged against Henry. Then she opened her eyes, blinked at all of them, and said, “Is there any water? I’m thirsty.”
Simon handed her the glass of water. She drank it all.
“Still thirsty.” She unfolded her body and stood up.
Before Simon could stop her, Jester hopped up and said, “I’ll help you find the water.” He made it sound like they needed to find a stream in the dark rather than turn on a faucet—and Meg didn’t say a thing to indicate she saw anything odd about that.
Simon waited until he heard Meg and Jester talking in the kitchen. Then he looked at the others in the room. “Do you think she’s sick?”
Vlad came around to the front side of the sofa. “No, not sick exactly.”
“Humans walk in their sleep,” Tess said. “They talk to people, do things around the house, even leave their homes and have no memory of it in the morning.”
“She hasn’t done that before,” Simon said.
“She’s had upsetting dreams before, but this was different, and it’s something Emily Faire needs to know about,” Vlad said. “It may be an indication of something wrong—or something right. The Intuits don’t hurt themselves in order to have the feelings that tell them if something is wrong. Maybe the cassandra sangue didn’t cut themselves in the beginning. Maybe they had dreamed about the future and discovered by accident that the cutting gave them control of the time and place to see the visions.”
“Control of time and place and the euphoria that clouded their minds and prevented them from seeing things that might terrify a young mind to the breaking point,” Tess said.
Simon nodded. “She needs to see the human bodywalker.”
“Maybe our Meg should spend a few days on Great Island,” Henry said. “Merri Lee could go with her. Steve Ferryman and Ming Beargard would watch over them.”
Tess had managed to control her emotions while Meg had looked into her eyes, but now her hair had broad streaks of red and was starting to coil as she focused on the Grizzly. “Why? That would be upsetting.”
“Yes,” Henry agreed. “But she would be out of reach of potential enemies.”
Hearing Henry’s words made Simon feel cold, but he understood. “Meg’s vision at night is no better than any other human’s,” he told Tess. “She was outside and it was dark, but she could still see well enough to describe what was around her.”
“You’re applying waking logic to a dream, which had prophecy cards the size of trees,” Tess argued. “What does her being able to see in a dream have to do with sending her to Great Island?”
“Vlad kept asking her what she’d seen in the moonlight. She didn’t correct him, didn’t say she had a flashlight or there was a campfire that allowed her to see in the woods at night.”
Threads of black mingled with the red streaks in Tess’s hair. “Meg would need sufficient moonlight to see in the dark, and next week is the full moon.”
• • •
Meg stared at the glass in her hand. She stared at the clock. She stared at the Coyote.
“Jester? Why are you in my kitchen at this time of night?”
“You should ask me why I’m here at this time of the morning since we’re close enough to dawn.” He studied her. “Are you awake now?”
Why did everyone keep asking her that? Then she remembered.
Dream. Vision. Something in between. This had happened a couple of times since she arrived in the Courtyard. The first time, she thought she was driving the BOW at night and Sam wouldn’t stop howling. But she and Sam had been out making deliveries in daylight—and he hadn’t been howling yet. Then there was the dream of making a cut and seeing prophecy. She recognized the trigger when it came in the real world, and her actions had saved Simon and the rest of the Wolves in the Courtyard.
This was another personal vision, warning her of something approaching in her own life.
Which didn’t explain the Coyote being in her kitchen at that hour.
Then Tess said, “Speak, prophet, and we will listen.”
Responding to the promise and command in the words, Meg kept her eyes on Tess and told her listeners everything she could remember. She told them about the cards she’d drawn yesterday and what came after the events the first three cards had revealed. She told them the details of the dream—details that provided substance, context.
Had Meg always seen this much detail but had been trained to compress what she saw into a series of images that someone else would interpret? Or was this like Jackson’s prophet pup, Hope, who could draw a few lines that could be recognized as a howling Wolf but could also make a detailed drawing that would reveal a specific Wolf? Maybe these kinds of dreams were the only way Meg’s brain could tell her more when she wasn’t cutting.
Vlad’s voice. Soothing, almost seductive, asking about details. Any rings on the hand? Color of skin? Could she see the color of the clothes in the moonlight?
She answered his questions. She didn’t smell lusty like she did when she cut herself and then spoke prophecy, but her voice had the same dreamlike quality it had during those times.
Meg closed her eyes and sagged against Henry. Then she opened her eyes, blinked at all of them, and said, “Is there any water? I’m thirsty.”
Simon handed her the glass of water. She drank it all.
“Still thirsty.” She unfolded her body and stood up.
Before Simon could stop her, Jester hopped up and said, “I’ll help you find the water.” He made it sound like they needed to find a stream in the dark rather than turn on a faucet—and Meg didn’t say a thing to indicate she saw anything odd about that.
Simon waited until he heard Meg and Jester talking in the kitchen. Then he looked at the others in the room. “Do you think she’s sick?”
Vlad came around to the front side of the sofa. “No, not sick exactly.”
“Humans walk in their sleep,” Tess said. “They talk to people, do things around the house, even leave their homes and have no memory of it in the morning.”
“She hasn’t done that before,” Simon said.
“She’s had upsetting dreams before, but this was different, and it’s something Emily Faire needs to know about,” Vlad said. “It may be an indication of something wrong—or something right. The Intuits don’t hurt themselves in order to have the feelings that tell them if something is wrong. Maybe the cassandra sangue didn’t cut themselves in the beginning. Maybe they had dreamed about the future and discovered by accident that the cutting gave them control of the time and place to see the visions.”
“Control of time and place and the euphoria that clouded their minds and prevented them from seeing things that might terrify a young mind to the breaking point,” Tess said.
Simon nodded. “She needs to see the human bodywalker.”
“Maybe our Meg should spend a few days on Great Island,” Henry said. “Merri Lee could go with her. Steve Ferryman and Ming Beargard would watch over them.”
Tess had managed to control her emotions while Meg had looked into her eyes, but now her hair had broad streaks of red and was starting to coil as she focused on the Grizzly. “Why? That would be upsetting.”
“Yes,” Henry agreed. “But she would be out of reach of potential enemies.”
Hearing Henry’s words made Simon feel cold, but he understood. “Meg’s vision at night is no better than any other human’s,” he told Tess. “She was outside and it was dark, but she could still see well enough to describe what was around her.”
“You’re applying waking logic to a dream, which had prophecy cards the size of trees,” Tess argued. “What does her being able to see in a dream have to do with sending her to Great Island?”
“Vlad kept asking her what she’d seen in the moonlight. She didn’t correct him, didn’t say she had a flashlight or there was a campfire that allowed her to see in the woods at night.”
Threads of black mingled with the red streaks in Tess’s hair. “Meg would need sufficient moonlight to see in the dark, and next week is the full moon.”
• • •
Meg stared at the glass in her hand. She stared at the clock. She stared at the Coyote.
“Jester? Why are you in my kitchen at this time of night?”
“You should ask me why I’m here at this time of the morning since we’re close enough to dawn.” He studied her. “Are you awake now?”
Why did everyone keep asking her that? Then she remembered.
Dream. Vision. Something in between. This had happened a couple of times since she arrived in the Courtyard. The first time, she thought she was driving the BOW at night and Sam wouldn’t stop howling. But she and Sam had been out making deliveries in daylight—and he hadn’t been howling yet. Then there was the dream of making a cut and seeing prophecy. She recognized the trigger when it came in the real world, and her actions had saved Simon and the rest of the Wolves in the Courtyard.
This was another personal vision, warning her of something approaching in her own life.
Which didn’t explain the Coyote being in her kitchen at that hour.
