Regret tinted Sati’s words. “It was my burden, but I could not handle two duties at once. I was weak. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“I will take the Elder Sign from you. You will take back the book. Josephine will heal in heart and mind. It will change all of us.”
It was the only logical thing to do. I pressed my intent toward them, willing them to see things my way.
“Who am I if I do not have a burden to bear?” Josephine relaxed, but did not withdraw. “My family are ever dreamers. They have been linked to the Dreamlands for generations. This is what we are meant to do.”
Sati’s thought lashed across the tableau, making the room ripple. “But at what cost, O Bride of the Black Wind?”
Josephine did not answer. The tears that streamed down her frozen face were enough.
I focused on Sati, cutting Josephine out of the conversation. “Professor Das, I know you were in a coma. It must have had something to do with the Eltdown Shards.” I ignored the book as it writhed against me. I didn’t know when I had picked it up again. “This book is your burden. The Elder Sign must be mine. I will do what needs to be done.”
Sati’s image brightened at the use of her title. “If you do this, your relationship with Josephine may be torn asunder. Is this a risk you are willing to accept? Do you take the Elder Sign knowing you may lose your patient forever?”
Part of me struggled with this conflict. My patient came first. More than that, Josephine was a wonderful young woman who had much to give the world. If I took the scroll, I could damage Josephine. But, if I didn’t ensure that the book went back to Sati, I would lose Josephine to the nightmares once more. It was a choice between could and would. “Yes. I will take that risk.”
The world shattered and fell about us. When all resettled once more, the three of us sat about the low table—Josephine in a chair with her hands folded, me in a chair holding the scroll case, and Sati, still in her old woman form, on the couch clasping The Glyphs of the Eltdown Shards and the Binding Language to her breast.
Josephine looked at each of us in turn, her face the smooth neutral of a well-bred woman with emotions to hide. “Well, it appears that is that. There is nothing more to do except go home.”
“There is one more thing.” I put the scroll case, now no bigger than my hand, in a pocket. “Tell me about the Black Wind.” I allowed no argument in my tone of voice. She had evaded the subject long enough.
Chapter 11
As a Doctor of Psychology, I must be able to determine the difference between an evasion, a false confession, and an admission. As every patient is different, coaxing and guiding them to reveal their great trauma is a delicate act of cajoling and supporting, convincing the patient to let go of what they fear most. Once they do this, they are shattered in a way that they can pick up their own pieces, with expert psychological assistance, until they are whole once more.
Josephine rocked back as if struck. “No. It’s not safe to speak his name.”
Even as she tried to refuse, I knew she would do as I demanded. “This is a safe place.” I glanced at Sati for confirmation. She nodded. “You told me so yourself. It’s only in the transitions that things happen. You have avoided this long enough. Tell me.” I locked eyes with her and refused to let go.
My patient stared at me for a long time before her face changed—a hardness and determination I had not seen before coming to the forefront. “If you insist.” She gathered her thoughts as she refolded her hands in her lap. “My family has always dreamed. We’ve always come to the Dreamlands. Even before the pact with the Black Wind. As soon as we start dreaming, our families mentor us to shape, to create here.”
She unfolded one hand and held it up. Before our eyes, a bird came into being. Josephine set it aloft. The wren fluttered about the room until she gestured to the window. The wood and glass disappeared, allowing the wren to escape. With another gesture, the window reappeared. “All that we have learned has been in an effort to run, hide, and escape from the Black Wind.”
“Why?”
“The pact. My many-times-removed grandfather, Elijah, bargained with the Black Wind. For what, I do not know. The end result is that one of every generation is marked by the Black Wind. What for? Again, I do not know. I am neither engaged to be married nor twenty-one. That is when all of this is explained. I only know as much as I do because of my brother, Leland. He came to me in his dying dream to warn me. He told me about my doom, then he died, leaving me to fend for myself.”
Sati and I exchanged a glance. “Dying dream?” I asked.
Josephine pulled herself from the past. “Leland died almost six years ago in the Great War. As he lay dying on the battlefield, he chose to dream his life away. In that dream, he warned me that the Black Wind would mark me. That I was the only one of this generation left. I would be marked until I had children or I died in the Dreamlands.”
“Then why are you called the ‘Bride of the Black Wind’?”
She gave me a bitter smile. “I met him. First, at one of father’s parties. Then, in my dream that night. A tall Egyptian man with a regal bearing and a piercing gaze. At the party, he was introduced as Rafiq Talhouni, a visiting antiquarian who specialized in books. In my dreams, as he marked me, he revealed his true name…” Josephine shuddered, forcing the name through her unwilling lips. “…Nyarlathotep.”
As Josephine spoke, buttons appeared on her blouse. She raised trembling hands to unbutton them, revealing the smooth skin of her collar bones and breast. “I can hide the mark. But there are always those who can see it.” Swirling gold marks appeared, covering her upper chest. They writhed upon her skin as if alive. Several of the tentacles shifted to reveal a single malevolent eye.
One that looked about with interest.
One that focused on me.
It could see me, see into my soul, measuring me for God knows what. I felt a tickle in the back of my head. It was the same feeling I had when the Eltdown Shards book begged me to let it in. I shivered in the chill of it, every hair on my body standing on end. It was more than I could bear. I turned away, shaking.
It could still see me, searing into my soul. It picked through my fears, examining them like a woman considering fruit; scenting them, feeling them, cracking them open wide. All the while, I could do nothing to stop the invasion into my uglier imaginings and baser thoughts. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Josephine, that is enough.” Sati’s voice was a smooth whip crack through the tension. “This place is safe, but inviting the likes of the Black Wind in would not be good for anyone.”
Josephine did not respond in words.
The invasion within my mind ceased all at once. It left me stunned and trembling. I reached for my salvation—my work, my patient, my desire to cure Josephine.
I took several shaky breaths and forced my mind to push aside the horror of what had just happened. I faced the problem head on, trying to find an answer to help her. “You are the Bride because you’re marked. You don’t know everything, but according to your brother, you are the chosen one until you have children—who presumably will then become chosen—or die in the Dreamlands.” I raised my head and risked a glance at Josephine. “What does the Black Wind get out of you dying?”
Josephine was properly covered once more with her hands folded in her lap. “I do not know. I believe the book protected me as much as I protected it. I…do not know what to do now. The book anchored me.”