Into the Dim (Into the Dim, #1)(28)
“And it was all for nothing, anyway,” Phoebe said. “Wasn’t even the Nonius Stone. Just a bloody big emerald.”
She went on, her voice getting raspier as she spoke of what happened. How all she knew was that on their return to the location where the Dim would take them back, the three Viators were attacked. Michael MacPherson had been injured in the fight, and the thieves had absconded with all but two of their lodestones. Apparently, there’d been a fierce argument about which one of them would be left behind.
Phoebe stared down into her lap. “When the Dim began to open, Da ran into the forest, sacrificing himself so Celia and your mum could come home.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “That’s awful. Your dad must’ve been really brave staying behind like that.”
She smiled through the tears. “Aye. He was a hero for sure. We’re always hoping the Dim will open to that time again, but it never does. Collum’s convinced if we find the Nonius Stone, we could use it to control the Dim. That maybe with the great stone, Doug could program it to open to when and where we want. That we could find Da and bring him home.”
“Would that work?”
“No idea.” She shrugged. “But Coll believes it.”
“Jeez. No wonder he hates me,” I whispered. “He’s waited so long, and it’s my mom we’re going after.”
“Nah.” My new friend picked up a lemon bar, her sunny personality back in a blink. “It’s not that. Ever since Lu assigned him to this team? Forget it. He’s the leader. The big boss man. He’s just acting like a git now ’cause you’re smarter than he is and he knows it.” She squeezed my hand with her sticky one. “But he’ll work like the devil to bring Sarah home. Don’t worry about that. He takes this mission very seriously.”
As she hopped down off the high mattress, scattering crumbs all over the shiny wooden floor, I followed, my mind working through this new information.
Phoebe dropped onto the floral loveseat, and unfolded a worn leather bundle she’d brought along and tossed it onto the cushions. Nestled inside lay a trio of lethal-looking throwing knives. She selected one of the slim blades and began sharpening it against a whetstone.
“From the day Da was lost, Lu started hunting the Nonius Stone, determined to get him back. You heard Lu,” Phoebe said. “She blames herself. So now we follow every lead, no matter how obscure. And Collum’s even worse.” Sparks flew from each agitated stroke as she resumed, apparently unsatisfied with the results. “The only one who doesn’t travel is my Doug. And it’s not fair. He would be a bloody amazing traveler, but for the epilepsy, see? Got it from a head injury in the car accident that took his parents.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” I exclaimed. “The poor guy. He was with them when they died?”
She twisted the stud in her brow, frowning. “Aye, it’s bad, Hope. And he’s convinced it’ll get worse, that one day his beautiful brain will get all scrambled. He swears he’ll leave before he’d let me see him like that.”
Sparks. The grinding of steel on stone. The smell of wood floors and metallic shavings. The sweet, tart taste of lemon bars that coated my throat as my heart sank.
A wave of protectiveness washed through me for Phoebe and her kind, brilliant boy. My chest ached at the thought of something happening to Doug’s exquisite mind. And what it would do to my new friend if it did.
“Aw, but when he gets all maudlin like that, I just tell him to bugger off,” she said, sniffing. “He’s not getting out of marrying me someday over some little thing like that. Still, the travelin’ is too dangerous for him. If he were to have an attack while we were away, well . . .”
Phoebe set the whetstone aside and tested the blade’s sharp edge against the pad of her thumb. She smiled grimly at the thin line of red that appeared. Teeth sunk in her lower lip, she took aim and, with a flick of her tiny wrist, sent the blade spinning across the room to bury itself in the paneling.
Chapter 13
SOON ENOUGH, I LEARNED THEY WERE ALL SKILLED WITH some kind of weapon. Not only could Phoebe pin a fly to the side of the barn with her knives, she’d been trained in martial arts since she was a kid. In astonished awe, I watched the petite girl grapple both Doug and Collum to the ground over and over.
“You could learn this, Hope,” she called. “Doesn’t matter how small you are. Aikido uses your opponent’s own momentum against them.” Phoebe demonstrated a few moves, her small hands and feet flying as she once again dropped her sweating brother to the mud-slick ground of the stable yard. “Of course, if that doesn’t work”—she patted the knives at her side—“you just stick them with your blade.”
Collum’s weapon of choice was a short, wide gladiator sword that had belonged to his father. Watching him and Mac spar left me clenching and breathless. Even Doug was astonishingly fast with his staff, a six-foot piece of rock-hard oak.
No surprise to anyone, especially me, I was clumsy and awkward with any weapon they tried to put in my hands. After days stuck inside while the skies shed buckets onto the mountains and moors, I’d discovered the only place I was of any use at all. The library. And even there, practically every time I opened my mouth, Collum shut me down. It was getting old.