Belladonna

Chapter Thirty-six

World? It whispered. World? Is there Light?

Ephemera flowed through the currents of the Island in the Mist. It did not listen to the Eater of the World. Would not listen. But the question, flowing from the currents in the forbidden part of itself, brought it back to the sandbox where the Music played with it every day.

A heart wish had flowed out of the forbidden place. Her heart wish. But the Music did not answer, did not ask the world to send the proper answer. The Music was still learning to be Guide. Maybe the Music did not know?

She had been the last one at the school who had talked to it, had played with it and helped it shape itself. Who had understood how to be Guide to the World. Unlike the others before her, when the Dark Ones had come, she had listened to it when it tried to save her. It had found Light, and she had followed.

It had found Light. And she had followed.

A break in the trees where a person could stand and see the moon shining over the lake. And there was the resonance called Sebastian painting a dark-haired woman who wore a gown that looked as substantial as moonbeams.

“This is where you belong,” he said. “This is where you should be.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” the lover said as his arms wrapped protectively around her. “I traveled a long way to find the treasure in my heart. Don’t ask me to let it go.”

She felt him fade away, but the resonance that was Sebastian was still there, as strong as memories, as full of promise as a sunrise. And then…

Mist. And music. The bright notes of the whistle made her smile, and the drum heated her blood until her heart pounded with the rhythm.

The music dimmed, as if someone had shut a door, and she stood outside in the mist. His arms closed around her, pulling her back against the warmth of his chest.

She heard the drum in the beat of his heart, knew the bright notes of the whistle would be in his voice, in his laugh.

“I can hear the music,” she said. “I can hear the music inside you.”

The music flowed over her skin, sang in her blood, rang in the scarred hollow of her chest. She swallowed and tasted tears—and didn’t know if they were her own or someone else’s.

Better to sleep. Just sleep. The music was a good dream. She could follow that dream and slip away forever.

Except the Light was pouring out of the music, feeding the starved currents of this landscape. Waking the predators.

She rolled onto her side and forced gummy eyes open to look in the direction of the fountain.

Then she scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the fountain and the patch of ground glowing with Light.

“No,” she moaned when she saw the heart’s hope growing out of the sand. “Oh, no.”

The size of the plant was stunning enough, but it was the flowers that made the heart ache in wonder. They ranged from white as pure as hope to the deep red of passion.

The Warrior of Light must drink from the Dark Cup. She remembered that now—remembered what she had done. The Warrior of Light must drink from the Dark Cup, and turn away from the Light forever. But the Light rang in her now. Rang, sang, pulled with the need to put two halves back together to make a whole.

Here here here, Ephemera called. This way.

She looked around. Her old garden. At the school. The one she had escaped from when the Dark Guides had tried to seal her in. Ephemera had come to her that day, too.

Heart’s wish! This way!

“Pushy little world,” she muttered.

She felt the change inside her. Had felt it starting when the resonances and memories set their hooks into her savaged heart. A tiny flicker of Light that held a promise. And music.

Just a step would take her between here and there. But…where? She was no longer sure who she was or where she truly belonged.

She stared at the heart’s hope—and remembered two men in a dream.

“Take it back,” she said firmly. “Take the heart’s hope back where you found it.”

Heart’s wish. Ephemera sounded wistful.

“When the heart’s hope is back where it belongs, I’ll go where you need me to go.”

Yes yes yes!

The heart’s hope disappeared, leaving only a square of sand in a nimbus of Light.

Something tugged at her from the access point Ephemera had created. Pulled at her.

She had a sudden image of a stretchy band pulled to its fullest. A big ball of Light was at one end; she was at the other. When the band snapped back…

“Guardians and Guides, this is going to hurt.”

She hesitated. Pain in staying, pain in going.

But something made her hesitate.

In Ephemera, there were few secrets of the heart. And even that heart couldn’t remain hidden now. Not from her.

She walked back to the ragged blanket she had found somewhere, then pressed her fingers against the ground beneath one corner.

Ephemera, hear me.

Assured that the world would obey, she walked back to the square of sand and took the step between here and there.

Light!

Barely more than a flicker now, but reason enough to race ahead of whatever else might want to destroy that flicker.

Then It hesitated. There had been a place in the landscape that had been so Dark it had not quite existed with the rest of the school. Her lair.

But It did not feel that Dark anymore, and when It approached, It discovered the walls had been torn down, the fountain shattered. Nothing there now but an empty, broken place.

Changing back to human form, It approached the only thing of interest that had been left behind: a ragged blanket. Crouching, It fingered the material. Scratchy but warm—and more than It had now.

It started to grab the blanket, then froze as It felt the resonance beneath the material.

It lifted the corner—and stared for a long time. Then It scooped up the prize and the blanket, and hurried back to the walled garden It had made into a lair. There, It carefully unwrapped the prize and stared at it some more.

What had been in Belladonna’s heart when she had commanded the world to do this? Had this been left as a punishment—or a gift?

Didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had left behind a flicker that could feed the Light.

After selecting the most protected spot in Its garden, the Eater of the World planted the tiny heart’s hope.

They stood outside Shaney’s Tavern, the music pouring out of the open doors behind them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest.

“Stay with me,” he said. “My heart’s hope lies with you, Glorianna Belladonna. Stay—”

A scuffling sound in his bedroom broke the dream. He lay awake, alert. Then he almost drowned in the sound that flooded through him.

“Magician?”

A rough, rusty voice. He barely heard it above the jagged pieces of song trying to fit together. Crashing. Screaming. Dark tones and Light. A song of terrible beauty grating against so much hope.

He pushed himself up on one elbow and stared at the shadowy figure standing at the foot of his bed. “Glorianna?”

“I heard the music. I heard the music in your heart.”

Then she swooned, and he leaped out of bed to catch her, to hold her as he sank to his knees. Even in the moonlight coming in the window, she looked dirty and bruised and half starved. And she was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

“You’ll be all right, darling,” he said, rocking her. “You’re home now. You’ll be all right.”

She stirred a little.

“Glorianna? Come on now, darling. Don’t be doing this to me.”

“Don’t tell Lee,” she mumbled.

“What?” He stopped rocking and looked down at her.

“He gets upset when I faint. Don’t tell him.”

He laughed—and then he cried. Then he picked her up and tucked her into bed with him. And hoped he wasn’t dreaming.