I just watch him leave. Then I turn my gaze back to this creature who’s barged into my world yet again. She waits, utterly still, probably prepared for more questions about the past or the influence on me. After all, she’s my only link to any of it. But even I don’t expect the words that come out of my mouth, as unstoppable as a meteor hurtling to the earth: “Is Fear alive? Have you heard anything about him?”
I picture it again, his expression, his cheek scraping over the ground, the blood between his fingers. For some reason my heart picks up speed; we both hear it from the monitor beside my bed. Beep, beep-beep, beep-beep-beep.
She tilts her head a little. The hood falls against the side of her jaw. When it becomes apparent that she isn’t going to answer, it occurs to me that she probably has no idea what I’m talking about. “You’ve been gone for a while,” I say after a moment of stiff quiet.
At this she moves to stand by the bed. Her jerky movements speak volumes. Irritation and maybe a little relief at seeing me alive. “I shouldn’t have come back,” she snaps. “No one else is stupid enough to be in this horrid little place while that monster is around.”
“Ah, yes.” My eyes narrow. “Him. Are you trying to get me killed? Because I’m assuming he’s the reason you told me not to go Sophia’s party that night. You knew he would be here.”
Rebecca breathes through her nose, a visible sign she’s striving for control. All I can see of her is the bottom of her chin. “The key words there are told you not to. You deliberately went against my warning. He’s been looking for you, and I knew he’d be drawn to that party like a moth to a flame.”
“Why was he after me?” I ask bluntly.
Now she sighs, walking to the window to peer out. “You’re so stubborn. If you would just … ” She stops, begins again. “One of the side effects of the illusion on you is that I can’t tell you a thing about why I placed it in the first p-place. If I’m around when you discover something from the past, I have no choice b-but to remove the evidence.” She grips the windowsill with white fingers. “My own essence makes sure I do, and that I don’t speak of it, or it causes me searing pain. Which is part of the reason I’ve been so vague with you.”
An illusion? That’s when I put another piece of the puzzle together. She’s the one who made the newspaper disappear. How long has she been watching me?
Putting aside thousands of questions—about this, about Nightmare, Landon’s murder, their mother and the stone house, my past, the power—I ask the question that’s been stalking me since all this began. “Do you know why Courage told me I would need Joshua?”
“Because I told him I thought the boy could break through!” she explodes. She’s agitated; she speaks with her arms, waving them around her head and pacing the floor. “It would’ve been the quickest way. It seemed like you were feeling something for him. All the signs were there! You were smiling, letting him close. I saw the way you looked at him when he brought you to see those ridiculous bugs.” Then, abruptly, she stops, rubbing her temples. She forces her tone to be even. “I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since … ” She trails off, shaking her head.
Since when? Where do I fit into all this? For a moment I experience the faintest, faintest stirrings of frustration. So many questions she won’t answer. Even though it’s useless, I can’t help but ask, “Who am I?”
She blatantly ignores the question, of course, preferring to finger the edge of my blanket and focus on the material. Her nose wrinkles with disgust. “Hate hospitals,” she mutters to herself.
“This … illusion, as you call it, was put on me a long time ago, and you only recently sought me out. Why did you hide for so long?” I ask next. “Why all the games?”
Restless again, Rebecca stalks over to the wall to examine a painting hanging there. Her hood slips a little, and she catches it with fast fingers, putting it back over her face. “I already told you,” she says. “I can’t do anything but watch. In the beginning, I did stay. After a while I realized how pointless that was, so I left. But when I caught wind that he was hanging around Edson, I couldn’t just do nothing, so I came back. I had to warn you. Little good it did. My only hope of the illusion breaking was the kid. That way, you would have your powers to defend yourself against that monster.”
Powers? What am I? But of course I won’t get an answer if I ask. “You can’t remove it?” I ask her instead, following her with my eyes as she moves around the room.
She shakes her head. I study the small scrap of her face that I can see; she has a full bottom lip. “No. It fades with time, and if it’s to be removed sooner than it’s meant to be, only you can do it—by feeling heightened emotion, like love or terror or grief. It’s happening, though; I bet you’ve noticed. Emotions are breaking through. Your own power really is too strong to be restrained for long.”
“It’s been restrained for more than thirteen years,” I tell her, resisting the urge to ask about my abilities.
“Because you are unbelievably adept at lying to yourself. Truly, I’m amazed.”
Maintaining a firm hold on all of this information is a bit difficult. I’m silent, taking it all in.
Rebecca isn’t going to give me much time. “But”—she whips back around—“you need to break my illusion now. I could take you away from here. Then again, there’s really no point. Now that he’s found you, he’ll hunt you down no matter where you go. Until you remember, you’ll be helpless.”
“And how do you suggest I feel ‘heightened emotion’?” I ask her coolly.
Air hisses through her teeth as she exhales. “That’s the point, stupid. You could remember right now if you wanted to. All of this is a choice on your part. If you really want to know the truth, it’s there at your fingertips. Take it so that we can all get on with our lives.”
I purse my lips, nodding slowly. “So you expect me to sit and wait for Nightmare—”
“Don’t say his name!” She whirls as if the Element will be standing in the doorway, staring at us. When she sees we’re still alone, she relaxes slightly, her alarm turning to fury. “Stupid,” she spits at me yet again. “You’re endangering us both. You don’t have to be asleep for him to reach you.”
“What does he want?” I repeat, more sharply this time. “Why is he after me?”
“Power,” is all Rebecca says. Then she relents and adds, “Blood from the other plane is like a drug to him. A rush. He no longer feels the need to answer his summons. Our kind knows that he’s gone insane, but so far he’s managed to avoid getting killed.” She continues to pick at the blanket some more.
“Are there others like him?” I ask.
“Members of the other plane have no desire to start a civil war,” she answers in a dismissive tone. I turn my face to the window. Outside, it’s getting darker. The sun is almost gone as it sinks into the ocean of sky. There’s a small lamp on in the corner of my room, casting deceptive serenity over the room.
Fear should be here, harassing me. The thought comes from nowhere, and a lump forms in my throat. Thinking of him continues to causes that odd, painful sensation on my chest. I recall that vivid dream, the way he’d run his fingers down Rebecca’s spine. Something curls in my stomach. Something like … envy.
“ … even listening?” Rebecca snaps, springing. She flicks me on the temple with her nimble fingers. Hard. I swat at her like she’s a fly, but she’s already yards away.