Black Moon Draw(52)

A woman laughs.

I turn, recognizing her. Any hope of this being a trip home smashes to the ground. The long dead warrior queen of Black Moon Draw is petite, with an exotic tilt to her brown eyes and skin the color of honey. She wears a crown on her head, a simple, elegant string of gems with one of them dangling down her forehead.

“This is a dream,” I whisper. I’m in the dress I woke up in when this nightmare started, standing in the knee-high grasses.

This time, there’s no fog on the Black Moon Draw side of the bridge, and the trees’ branches overflow with green leaves. The forest is alive. It’s a beautiful, sunny, clear, warm morning. Birds sing happily in the forest nearby and the scent of flowers is thick upon a light breeze.

“It is,” the warrior queen of Black Moon Draw confirms. “This is where I came through, too.”

I frown. “If this is a dream, then . . . are you real? Because I’m really confused about what’s going on right now.”

“The battle-witches leave each other messages in the form of dreams, the ultimate way to pass a secret with no one finding out. My creation,” she says proudly. “When I was little, my parents took me to Disneyland, and I swear I dreamt of that place for a year after. It seemed so real . . . I thought it was a really good way to ensure certain messages were passed down to women like us.”

“Women from the real world.”

“Every book is its own world. They’re all real, if you believe in them.”

“No. I can’t handle that.”

“You’ll understand,” she says gently.

“Is there a way home?”

“You gave your life for the Shadow Knight and want to go home?” she asks curiously. “You don’t love him?”

“Love him?” I laugh. I can’t help the heat in my cheeks or the way my heart skipped a beat at the thought. To know the love of a man that fierce and protective . . . I shake my head. “I barely know him and he despises me. Says I’m the worst battle-witch he’s ever heard of. He’s also engaged to another woman. I figure I’m invincible so why not swan dive off a fortress if it helps him?” Is she buying it? I’m not sure I am. No matter what my body says and the way I’m drawn to him, there can be nothing between us. It’s simply impossible.

“It takes some time.” The warrior queen smiles. She doesn’t seem discouraged or disappointed.

“You drank the Kool-Aid, didn’t you?”

“Hindsight.” She winks. “You see things differently through the rearview mirror than when you’re in the middle of the road.”

Ugh. This isn’t going the way I want, even for a dream. “So what’s the secret, if not a way home?”

“Every battle-witch for a thousand years has contributed part of her magic to that medallion, the Heart.” Her gaze goes to my chest, where the worn necklace hangs. “Its power is beyond anything you can imagine. A thousand years of magic, all lying dormant.”

“Is it going to electrocute me?” I ask, lifting it uncertainly from my chest.

“It can do much more than that. But as my successor, it’s yours to control.”

“A little birdy told me the Heart is what everyone’s after. Ohhhhh now I get it.” That’s why the messengers are birds. The subtle cliché hits me, and I applaud LF for once instead of cursing her.

“It is. But it’s not what you think.”

“Care to explain?”

“The Shadow Knight is the last of his bloodline. If he dies, so does the magic. My curse did more than I intended. The medallion, the Heart, is all that keeps the fogs of Black Moon Draw from devouring their world. I condemned everyone, even those I was trying to avenge.” Her voice grows soft.

“So if he dies, the magic dies, and their entire world goes with him. If the era ends, and he fails, their world ends.”

She nods. “And if the Heart falls into the wrong hands, it, too, has the power to end their world.” As she speaks she approaches and picks up the medallion off my chest. Her whole face lights up.

“Triple whammy. That’s quite a curse.”

She nods. Her eyes are filling with tears. They aren’t sad ones – but happy tears, if the joy on her face is any indication.

“Why is it called a Heart?” I ask.

She swipes at her tears and lowers the medallion, stepping away. “’Twas the nickname my husband gave me. I was his heart, his love, his queen. This was fashioned as a wedding present. Magic molded this gem, but our love gave it power.”

“Wow. That’s insanely romantic,” I murmur enviously. “And you used the magic to destroy the world. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

She laughs. “That’s why you’re here! You can fix it.”

I shift feet, not really liking where the conversation is headed. It sounds like she expects me to stay here instead of leave like I want. “How?” I venture tentatively.

“You have to keep him from dying.”

“He’s a lot better at this battle thing than I am.” I point out.

“You have the magic of an entire world, one that’s depending on you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You did not invite me here for me to fix the world. That’s absurd.”