The Bone Season

16 The Undertaking

Warden didn’t tell me where we were going. He led me down another footpath, into the open grounds of Magdalen. I could feel spirits everywhere: in the air, in the water—spirits of the dead that had once walked here. I couldn’t hear them, but with a cold spot open within a mile radius, I could feel them as strongly as if they were living presences.

I kept close to Warden in spite of myself. If any of these spirits were malevolent, I sensed he’d be able to repel them more efficiently than I could.

The darkness grew deeper as we made our way through the grounds, away from the lanterns of Magdalen. Warden remained silent as we crossed a wet meadow where the lawns had been replaced by knee-deep weeds and grass. “Where are we going?” I asked. My boots and socks were already sodden.

Warden didn’t reply.

“You said I was your student, not your slave,” I said. “I want to know where we’re going.”

“Into the grounds.”

“Why?”

No reply again.

The night was getting colder, unnaturally cold. After what seemed like hours, Warden stopped and pointed.

“There.”

At first I didn’t see it. When my eyes adjusted, the outline of the animal appeared in the dim moonlight. The creature was four-legged, with a silken coat. Its throat was snow-white and its long face, narrow, with dark eyes and a small black nose. I wondered which of us looked more astonished.

A deer. I hadn’t seen one since I’d lived in Ireland, when my grandparents had taken me to the Galtees. A wave of childish excitement swept over me.

“She’s beautiful,” I said.

Warden stepped toward the deer. She was tethered to a post. “Her name is Nuala.”

“That’s an Irish name.”

“Yes, short for Fionnuala. It means white shoulders, or fair shoulders.”

I looked again. There were two large white spots on either side of her neck. “Who named her?” In Scion it was risky to give Irish names to pets or children. You might be suspected of sympathizing with the Molly rioters.

“I did.”

He released the collar from around her neck. Nuala butted him with her nose. I waited for her to run, but she just stood there, gazing up at Warden. He spoke to her in a strange language, stroking her white throat, and she seemed to really listen. She was mesmerized. “Would you like to feed her?” Warden slid a red apple from his sleeve. “She has quite a penchant for these.”

He tossed me the apple. Nuala turned her gaze on me, nose twitching. “Gently,” Warden said. “She is easily startled. Especially with a cold spot open nearby.”

I didn’t want to startle her—but if Warden didn’t, how could I? I held out my hand, presenting the apple. The doe sniffed at the fruit. Warden said something else, and she snatched it.

“Forgive her. She’s very hungry.” He patted her neck and gave her another apple. “I rarely have the chance to see her.”

“But she lives in Magdalen.”

“Yes, but I must be careful. Animals are not permitted within the limits of the city.”

“So why keep her?”

“For company. And for you.”

“For me,” I repeated.

“She’s been waiting for you.” He sat down on a flat rock, letting Nuala wander off toward the trees. “You are a dreamwalker. What does that mean to you?”

He hadn’t brought me out here to feed a baby deer.

“I’m attuned to the æther,” I said.

“Say more.”

“I can sense other dreamscapes at a distance. And ethereal activity in general.”

“Precisely. That is your nascent gift, the bottom line: a heightened sensitivity to the æther, an awareness that most other clairvoyants do not possess. It comes from your silver cord, which is flexible. It allows you to dislocate your spirit from the center of your dreamscape—to widen your perception of the world. It would drive most clairvoyants mad to do that. But when we trained on the meadow, I encouraged you to push your spirit against my dreamscape. To attack it.” His eyes smoldered in the gloom. “You have the potential to do more than merely sense the æther. You can affect it. You can affect other people.

I didn’t answer.

“Perhaps, when you were younger, you could hurt people. Perhaps you could put pressure on their dreamscapes. Perhaps they noticed things: nosebleeds, distorted vision—”

“Yes.”

He already knew. No point in denying it.

“Something changed on the train,” he continued. “Your life was endangered. You feared detainment. And for the first time in your life, that power inside you—that power emerged.”

“How did you find out?”

“A report came through that an Underguard had been killed—killed without blood, without weapons, without a single mark on his body. Nashira knew at once that it was the work of a dreamwalker.”

“It could have been a poltergeist.”

“Poltergeists always leave a mark. You should know.”

The scars on my hand seemed to drop a few degrees.

“Nashira wanted you alive,” Warden said. “The NVD makes clumsy, violent arrests, as do many of our red-jackets. Around half of those arrests end in death. That could not happen with you. You had to be unspoiled. That was why Nashira sent the Overseer, her specialist procurer of clairvoyants.”

“Why?”

“Because she wants to learn your secret.”

“There is no secret. It’s what I am.”

“It is also what Nashira wants to be. She longs for rare gifts, including yours.”

“Why doesn’t she take it, then? She could have killed me when she murdered Seb. Why the wait?”

“Because she wants to understand the full extent of your abilities. But she will not wait forever.”

“I won’t perform for you,” I said. “I’m not a harlie yet.”

“I did not ask you to perform for me. Where is the need? I saw your ability in the chapel. You forced your spirit into Aludra’s mind. I saw it on the meadow, when you broke into mine. But tell me”—he leaned toward me, his red eyes hot in the dark—“could you have possessed either of us?”

There was a tense silence, broken only by the reedy screech of an owl. The sound made me look up. I looked at the moon, cradled in a smoking cup of cloud. For a brief moment, I was taken back to Jax’s office, the first time we’d broached the subject of possession.

“My dear girl,” he’d said, “you’ve been a star. Nay, a luminary. You are absolutely and indubitably a keeper, a Seal fit to burst—but now I would like to give you a new task. A task that will test you, but also fulfill you.” He’d asked me to force my mind into his, to see if I could take control of his body. The idea had shaken me. I’d given it a halfhearted try, but the complexity of his mind had been too much to fathom. “Ah well,” he’d said, with a puff of his cigar. “It was worth a try, O my lovely. Away with you, now. There are broads to spread, and games to play.”

Maybe I could have done it. Maybe if I’d really wanted to, I could have seized Jax’s body and stubbed out that bloody cigar, but it was that very ability that frightened me. To control someone was a serious responsibility, too serious for me. Even with the promise of a pay raise. I would wander through the mind of London, but I would never seize control of it. Not for all the money in the world.

“Paige?”

I surfaced from my memories. “No,” I said. “I couldn’t have possessed Aludra. Or you.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t possess people. And I definitely can’t possess Rephs.”

“Would you like to?”

“No. You can’t make me do it.”

“I do not intend to force you. I am merely presenting you with an opportunity to ‘broaden your horizons,’ as you say.”

“By causing pain.”

“If possession is performed well, it should not cause any pain. I do not expect you to possess a human. Certainly not tonight.”

“Then what do you want?”

He looked across the field. I followed his line of sight. The doe was scuffing her hoof against some flowers, watching them bob their heads. “Nuala,” I said.

“Yes.”

I watched the doe bend her head and snuffle at a patch of grass. I’d never considered practicing possession on animals. Animal minds were very different than human minds—less complex, less conscious—but that might make it harder. It might not even be possible for me to fit my human spirit into an animal body. Would I think like a human when I had an animal dreamscape? And then there were other concerns: Would it hurt the deer? Would she struggle against my infiltration, or let me straight in?

“I don’t know,” I said. “She’s too big. I might not be able to control her.”

“I will find something smaller.”

“What exactly do you want out of this?” When he said nothing, I continued: “You’re pretty pushy for someone who claims to be giving me an opportunity.”

“I want you to take this opportunity. I do not deny it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to survive.”

I held his gaze for a moment, trying to read him. I couldn’t. There was something about Rephaite faces that discouraged emotional guesswork. “Fine,” I said. “A smaller animal. An insect, a rodent, maybe a bird. Something with limited sentience.”

“Very well.”

He was about to turn away when he stopped. With a glance in my direction, he removed something from his pocket: a pendant on a thin chain. “Wear this,” he said.

“Why?”

But he was gone. I sat down on the edge of a small boulder, fighting a shiver of anticipation. Jax would be nodding his approval, but I wasn’t sure Nick would be doing the same.

I looked down at the pendant. It was about as long as my thumb, woven into the shape of wings. As I brushed my finger over it, there was a tiny tremor in the æther. It must have been sublimed. I pulled the chain over my head.

Nuala returned after a while, having grown bored of the grass. I was huddled against the boulder, my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket. It was extraordinarily cold now, and my breath came in white clouds. “Hello,” I said. Nuala sniffed at my hair, like she was trying to work out what it was, then bent her legs and huddled next to me. She laid her head in my lap and made a sort of contented huff. I pulled off my gloves and stroked her ears. Her coat smelled of musk. I could feel her heartbeat, thick and strong. I’d never been this close to a wild animal. I tried to imagine what it must be like to be this little doe: to stand on four legs, to live wild in the woods.

But I wasn’t wild. I’d lived in a Scion citadel for over a decade. All the wildness had gone out of me. That was why I’d joined Jax, I supposed. To cling to what was left of my old self.

After a moment, I decided to test the water. I closed my eyes and let my spirit drift. Nuala had a permeable dreamscape, thin and frail as a bubble. Humans built up layers of resistance over the years, but animals didn’t have all that emotional armor. In theory, I could control her. I gave her dreamscape the lightest of nudges.

Nuala let out a snort of alarm. I stroked her ears, shushing her. “Sorry,” I said. “I won’t do it again.” After a moment, she laid her head back on my lap, but she was quivering. She didn’t know it was me that had hurt her. I ran my fingers under her chin, scratching gently.

By the time Warden returned I was half-asleep. He roused me with a tap on the cheek. Nuala looked up, but Warden soothed her with a word, and she soon dozed off again.

“Come,” he said. “I have found you a new body.”

He sat on the boulder. I was struck by how he looked under the moon: perfectly outlined, strong-featured, with a radiance to his skin. “What is it?” I said.

“See for yourself.”

His hands were caged, fingertips just touching. I looked down at a fragile insect: a butterfly, or a moth. Hard to tell in the darkness.

“It was quiescent when I found it,” he said. “It is still lethargic. I thought it would make it easier.”

A butterfly, then. It was twitching in his hands.

“Cold spots frighten animals.” His voice was a soft rumble. “They can sense an open conduit to the Netherworld.”

“Why did you open it?”

“You will see.” He raised his gaze to meet mine. “Are you willing to attempt a possession?”

“I’ll try,” I said.

His eyes glowed hotter, like coals.

“You probably already know this,” I said, “but my body’s going to fall when I leave it. I’d appreciate it if you could catch me.”

I had to choke the words out. I hated asking him for a favor, even something so small and obvious.

“Of course,” Warden said.

I broke the eye contact first.

After a deep breath, I dislodged my spirit. At once my senses blurred, and I could see my dreamscape. I could already feel the æther. It grew stronger as I walked toward the edge of the poppy field, where it was dark. The æther was there, waiting for me.

I jumped.

I could see my silver cord, unraveling from my dreamscape, giving me a way to return. Warden’s dreamscape was close. The butterfly was only a dot beside it, a grain of sand beside a marble. I slid into its mind. There was no reactive jerk, no sudden panic from my host.

I found myself in a world of dreams. A world of color, washed in ocher light. The butterfly spent its days feeding on flowers, and their opulent colors made up all its memories. Ambrosial scents wafted from everywhere, lavender and grass and roses. I paced through the dewy dreamscape, heading for the brightest part. Pollen swirled from the flower-laden trees, catching in my hair. I’d never felt so free. There was no resistance; not even the faintest flinch of a defense mechanism. It was so painless, so easy and beautiful, like I’d stepped out of a heavy set of shackles. It felt natural. This was what my spirit longed to do, to wander in strange lands. It couldn’t stand being trapped in one body all the time. It had wanderlust.

When I came to the sunlit zone, I spied it: the lightest pink wisp of a spirit. I pursed my lips and blew, and it skittered away to the darker parts.

Now for the real test. If I’d worked this out correctly—and if Jax had been right when he explained it—stepping into the sunlit zone would allow me to take control of my new body.

As soon as I stepped into the circle, bright light flooded the whole dreamscape: golden light, rolling over me, filling my eyes and my skin and my blood. It blinded me. The world became a shattered diamond, an asterisk of luminous color.

For a while, there was nothing. My body vanished, and I couldn’t feel a thing. And then I woke up.

Panic registered first. Where were my arms, my legs? Why couldn’t I see? Wait, I could see—just—but everything was washed in vivid purple, and the green of the grass was too bright for my eyes. A spasm racked my flimsy limbs. It was like brain plague, but so much worse. I was crushed, suffocated, screaming with no lips or voice. And what were these things stuck on either side of me? I tried to move, and they gave a shudder, as if I was in my death throes.

Before I knew it, I’d thrown myself out of the butterfly and back into my body. I was shaking all over, gasping for air. I slid down off the rock and hit the ground on all fours.

“Paige?”

I retched. A vile, acidic taste filled my mouth, but nothing came out. “N-never doing that again,” I said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It was—it was so easy, b-but then—” I unzipped my jacket, my chest heaving. “I can’t do it.”

Warden was silent. He watched as I dabbed the sweat from my brow, trying not to hyperventilate. “You did do it,” he said. “Even though it was painful, you did it. Its wings moved.”

“I felt like I was dying when I did that.”

“But you did it.”

I leaned against the rock. “How long did I last?”

“Perhaps half a minute.”

Better than I expected, but still pitiful. Jaxon would have cracked a rib laughing. “Sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “Maybe I’m not as good as other dreamwalkers.”

His face was hard. “Yes,” he said, “you are. But if you do not believe it, you will not achieve your full potential.”

He opened his hand, and the butterfly flew off into the dark. Still alive. I hadn’t killed it.

“You’re angry,” I said.

“No.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” His eyes were cold.

“Nothing,” I said.

He picked up a bundle of dry wood that had been propped against the boulder. I watched as he struck two rocks together, lighting a small fire, using the wood as kindling. I turned away. Let him simmer. I wasn’t there to puppeteer the fauna.

“We will rest here for a few hours.” Warden didn’t look at me. “You need sleep before the next part of your test.”

“Does that mean I passed this half?”

“Of course you passed. You possessed the butterfly. That was all I asked of you.” He watched the flames. “No more.”

He opened a knapsack and spread out a simple black sleeping bag. “Here,” he said. “There is something I must do. You will be safe here for a while.”

“Are you going back to the city?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t have much choice but to comply, though I didn’t like the thought of sleeping out here—not with this many spirits in the air. There were more of them now, and it was getting colder. I stripped off my wet boots and socks, put them out to dry beside the flames, and zipped myself into the sleeping bag. It wasn’t warm, even with my jacket and gilet, but it was better than nothing.

Warden tapped his fingers on his knee, staring into the darkness. His eyes were two live coals, alert for danger. I turned over and looked up at the moon. How dark the world looked. How dark, and how cold.