Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor #2)

Chapter Four

A boy…?  Rifter?  Had it been him all along?

When the shadow finally revealed itself again, long enough for her to see it zip by, it retreated to the wall behind her.  She turned to see it waiting there beside her own shadow, unhidden and boldly displayed.  Finally able to have a good look at it, she could only stare.  It did not belong to anyone she recognized.

The black-as-night shadow stood next to her own, arms at its sides, fists clenched.  The shape of the body was tall, broad across the chest, and certainly not belonging to anyone in the female ward.  The head was hidden by the form of a wide hood, and she could not recognize him.  All she knew was that it could not have been Rifter.  The body was too developed, almost that of a man rather than a boy.  Rifter had sworn never to age.  He had been the same for a hundred years, according to him.

Who could it be?

“Did you come from Nevermor?” she asked carefully, praying that he would attempt to give her a sign.  “Someone sent you after me, didn’t they?”

As Wren watched, only now second-guessing herself in her attempt to be civil – the shadow opened its eyes, two holes that gave way to light in the mimic's face.  What was it thinking?  Wren considered this and the shadow came to attention, snapping its head up.  In a quick movement, it had reached toward its boot and pulled something into its hand.  She watched as the object was lifted for her to see, and she was left examining the dark outline of a short dagger.

“A knife?” she asked, feeling that she had gone pale.  “You've come to–”

…to kill me.  She remembered the cuts on Adele.  Had the mimic confused one girl for the other when they’d been chasing it down the halls, or had it attacked Adele for simple enjoyment before now turning to her?

The shadow did not respond to her inquiries – did not wait for her to react.  It charged forward at Wren, coming away from the wall as a corporeal shape – a figure of pure darkness.  It wanted her blood, and she knew that it was more than capable of taking it.

Frantically, she began to think up a way to escape, but the cell was tiny.  She did not know which way to go.

Making a swift decision, she darted into a corner as the shadow rushed by her.  She could feel its coolness against her skin, and yet it made sweat rise on her flesh.  She couldn't think of anything except getting away, but she knew in the back of her mind that she could not escape it.  She had no idea of how to fight it off.  She had tried once to fight off a similar being and had failed miserably.

In a frantic rush, she went to the door, even though she knew there was no handle on this side.  She put her hands to the bars of the window and gave it a vicious tug, but as she had known, it was locked.

“Help!  Someone help me!  Please!” she screamed, beating against the door, but that did no good.  Her voice only blended with the shrieks of the other inmates in the halls.

The mimic was not fazed by her plea.  It only backed off enough to raise the silhouette of the dagger, lashing out in a swipe that she had barely seen, and crossed her forearm with the blade.

Wren cried out in surprise as blood emerged from the gash in her flesh.  Pain bloomed like a flower, pulsing over her skin.  She flinched and gripped her wounded arm, looking up at the shadow, which tilted its head coyly at her as it watched the blood rise.  It did not repent.  It raised the knife again.

Why?  What will it gain?

Wren threw herself out of the way and fell back onto the bed, forgetting the discomfort.

This can’t be the way it ends!  But there was nothing for her to do.

Shielding herself from another blow with her arms over her head, she was surprised when no more attacks fell on her.  She winced, waiting, and yet she was not stabbed or otherwise cut open.  Laying there, vulnerable, she dared to open her eyes –

The shadow was nowhere to be seen.  It was not in her vision, yet it could have been anywhere.  It could have slipped inside another shadow as small as a crack in the wall.

Or maybe it has finally happened, she thought suddenly.  Maybe I have finally slipped into madness like the rest of them.  This shadow…  Perhaps it was never there at all.

Her head was spinning, but she tried to focus on that possibility.  Had she imagined the uprising?  The shadow?  Outside her room, there was still chaos.  She had not imagined that part of it.  The disturbance in the asylum was real.

She pulled herself off the creaking mattress and moved toward the cell door to peer out – and just before she had reached it, there was a click as the lock was released and the door swung open.

On the other side, an inmate that she wasn’t sure she recognized – a laughing, frizzy-haired young woman – dashed away and moved to the cell across the hallway to begin working with the lock there, and Wren could see that it was not only her cage that had been unfastened.

There were women of varying ages, some clothed and some naked, dashing about in the hallway.  Their cells had been opened and they were running free.  Wren was not sure what this meant.  Was she supposed to flee or stay in the cell?  Coupled with the murderous shadow mimic, she was not sure what to think of this jail break.  She had once been much better at making these sorts of choices, but it was harder now.  As long as she had been locked up here, she wasn’t sure if she could leave on her own.

Sometimes one has to take risks, she told herself.

Taking a deep breath, she rushed out the door, into the chaos.  There were birds and inmates dashing about.  Orderlies had already grabbed a few of the women, trying to put them back in cells.  Now that Wren had gotten out, she did not intend to go back.  She couldn’t afford to stay locked in with a mimic.

She rushed forward with the others, trying to blend in as she once had when she’d been just another face in a cell full of bodies.  Near her, a fleeing girl was snatched back by her hair and thrown to the floor.  Wren instinctively pulled her curls over her shoulder.

She came out to the end of the corridor where the doors were open toward the courtyard.  There, many inmates were already running across the yard as orderlies were trying to corral them.  Looking on at this jumbled scene, Wren was nervous.  This was her one opportunity to leave this place in the confusion, but was it possible that she could?  The world outside was frightening.  She would be alone.

What will happen next?  What will become of me out there?  She did not have much time to think it over.  This might have been her only chance of ever getting out.

Wren made her decision and took a step forward – just as a hand reached out from the shadows and pulled her into the dark.

She gasped as she was pushed against the wall, caught looking toward the face of a figure that she couldn’t make out, for it was covered in a hood that was shielding his features.  Wren stared at him, close enough that she could hear the rhythm of his breath.

“Rifter?”  She could not see him, but she knew it was true.  Her heart swelled with so much happiness that she forgot about the riot and the mimic, disregarding them completely.  Perhaps, in that moment, she even forgot the trials of the last four years – just erased them from her mind and moved on.  None of it mattered anymore.  Rifter had finally come.

The shadowy figure before her said nothing – did not speak her name or confess that he’d missed her.  He raised his hand and blew into his open palm, sending an unexpected cloud of shimmering dust across her face.  She couldn’t help but breathe it in, and immediately her vision began to swim.

The reaction was much faster than what the draught had done.  She felt dizzy.  Her knees grew weak, and she felt him lift her up but she did not fight it.  Though there were many questions, she knew she had to be patient.  She had already waited four years.  She could wait a bit longer.

Wren embraced this sleep, trying to focus on his face as she drifted away.  In her unconsciousness, she thought she was smiling.