“And she’s in shock,” Moira said.

For once Mom and I agreed on something. Everything felt numb, even my brain.

“I’ll take her there now.” Paul stooped and picked me up.

“Don’t.” I tried to wriggle free, but he tightened his grip.

“Be careful,” said Moira. “And don’t fight, Destiny. For once in your life, please don’t be difficult.”

I didn’t say anything, but I stopped struggling. I was so sleepy and disoriented. The world spun around me, and I closed my eyes as Paul strode off, carrying me in his arms like a child. I rested my head against his shoulder and told myself the moment I could hear him breathing hard I would insist he put me down.

But he didn’t breathe hard, not once. When we arrived in the infirmary, the duty nurse directed Paul to one of the patient rooms. The moment my head touched the pillow the nurse cast a sleeping spell. I felt the magic pool over me like warm, soothing water. It dragged me under in a moment, and I went with it, wishing the oblivion it brought would last forever.

15

Warrant

But it didn’t last forever.

When I woke, it wasn’t even morning yet. My eyes felt like iron weights in my skull as I forced them open and looked around. Darkness filled the single window beside the infirmary bed I lay in, and the light in the corridor beyond my room was dim. I could see a nurse’s station through the door, but it was empty for the moment.

If only my room were empty, too. But no such luck. My mother sat in the chair beneath the window. For a second I didn’t think she knew I was awake, and I closed my eyes.

“Don’t bother,” Mom said. “I know you’re awake, because I woke you.”

I opened my eyes and shot her a glare. My head pounded. “What do you want?”

Moira stood and approached the bed. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want the duty nurse to hear us.”

I pursed my lips. “Of course not. Because I’m supposed to still be asleep, aren’t I?”

Mom folded her arms. “You will be again once I’ve said what I need to say.”

I clamped my mouth shut, holding back a smartass remark. I wanted her to get on with it and leave me alone already. Horrible, vivid images of Mr. Ankil’s death crowded my mind. I tried to force them away, but it was impossible. Only the sleeping spell would be able to do that.

“I’m only going to tell you this once, Destiny,” Moira said, leaning over me as if to emphasize how serious she was. “You are to stay as far away from these murders as humanly, magically, entirely possible.” She waved a finger back and forth in front of my face. “No more tailing suspicious people, no more investigating, no more anything besides your dream-seer duties. I would even have you stop doing that if I had any say in it. Do I make myself clear?”

I sat up, anger and fear pulsing through my body, blood rushing in my ears. I didn’t trust her reasons for ordering me out of it. As if she can order me. Ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness, I said, “What were you doing at the dance, Mom?”

“I told you. It’s my business, not yours.”

I shook my head, the motion sending bright starbursts across my vision. “Then you can forget it. You can’t stop me from investigating.”

Moira exhaled, the sound a hiss. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the situation is? The killer’s not doing this for the fun of it. And what he’s after is—” She broke off as if realizing she was about to spill something important.

I took a deep breath and tried to make my voice civil. “No, I don’t know what the killer is after, because no one will tell me anything. But maybe if I did know, I’d have an easier time keeping out of harm’s way.”

Moira frowned, her eyes thoughtful.

Sensing she was about to cave, I said in my softest, most desperate voice, “What is the Keeper spell guarding, Mom?”

Several seconds passed while Moira continued to stare at me. Then she glanced out the door as if to check that we were still alone. She turned back to me. “The spell is guarding the most powerful magical object in existence. A sword, which I’m sure you’ve heard of. In ordinary folklore, it’s known as Excalibur, although that’s not its true name.”

Say what? She had to be pulling my leg. “Very funny, Mom.”

“I’m not joking. I would never joke about something so important.”

I could tell she meant it. My fingers clenched around the bedsheet. I was dimly aware that I was no longer wearing my ball gown but a green infirmary robe. “I thought the Arthur legend was an actual myth?”

Mom shook her head. “That is what the Magi want you to believe, but in truth, it’s nothing but an elaborate work of propaganda. The story has been twisted and turned into legend to hide the truth of real events and people.”

I considered the idea. Hiding truth behind stories was a familiar concept with magickind. The Tinkerbell version of fairies was nothing more than a good PR campaign. Far from being cutesy and harmless, fairies were fearsome, capable of reducing an ordinary into a pile of gooey mush in a matter of seconds—if they wanted to and if The Will wasn’t keeping them in check. It was a sobering thought, and I found myself glad a Nightmare’s magic was so rare.

I cleared my throat. “So Arthur and Merlin were real people?”

Moira knelt, resting her arms on the side of the bed. “No. Those are fictional characters based on real people.”