“You must take it beyond the dome,” Nimue said, and her voice was like a soothing balm on my nerves. “But don’t let him have it. Never let him have it.”

I watched her slowly sinking back into the lake bed. Then casting one last glance at Bethany and my mother, I dashed for the dome’s edge and plunged through it into the cold, dark water. It seemed all the creatures out there were waiting for me, unspeakable things with red eyes and forked tongues. I closed my eyes and tried again, willing myself and the sword out of the dream.

For a terrible moment, nothing happened. The creatures closed in. Something hard and scaly brushed against my leg. Then with a jolt, my consciousness rejoined my body. I opened my eyes and saw the sword was still in my hands.

I stood up, my limbs trembling both from the terror of Nimue’s dream and grief over my mother, but also from joy at my victory.

Something was wrong.

Eli and Selene were lying on the floor a few feet away from the tomb in the same position as we’d found Bethany, wrists and ankles bound with silver rope. They were gagged as well with more silver rope. Paul stood over them.

My brain couldn’t make sense of it. “What are you doing?”

Paul looked at me, but before he could answer a familiar voice spoke from my left. “Anything I ask him to. Anything at all.”

I jerked my head in the direction of the voice and saw Mr. Marrow standing there, looking at the sword in my hand with something more than curiosity. He walked over, a broad smile on his face. “Well done, Dusty. You’ve far exceeded my expectations. Now, hand over my sword.”

His sword? I blinked at him.

Then I remembered what Bethany had said about how the Red Warlock could be anybody. Was it possible? Could it have been Marrow all along?

That was when I noticed it. There, perched on the end of the tomb and staring at me with the same look of satisfaction as its master, was the real black phoenix. It was even more fierce and terrible than it had been in Eli’s dreams.

24

The Red Warlock

“But that means you’re … you’re…” I couldn’t say it out loud. The words wouldn’t come.

“Merlin is the name you’re looking for, I believe. Although it’s the wrong name,” said Marrow.

“But it can’t be you.”

“Oh, but it is. I warned you, didn’t I? That the killer was clever enough to use you without you knowing it.”

I gritted my teeth. “You didn’t use me.”

A sneer twisted Marrow’s features. “Are you so sure? I’m the one who told your mother what the Keeper spell was guarding. I’m the one who planted in her mind the idea of telling you as a way to scare you off. But I knew your reaction would be just the opposite. A rebellious nature is so easily predictable.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t, as a sickening feeling rose up in the pit of my stomach. Beside me, the black phoenix crooned, as if to mock me.

“I needed you to know about the sword, you see,” Marrow continued. “You’re the dream-seer. I needed you to find the location of this tomb for me. You’ve done well. I’m grateful. Now give me my sword.”

I shook my head, but it was pointless. Marrow raised his wizard’s staff toward me, free of its cane glamour, and with one casual flick, he ripped the sword from my hands. He heaved a sigh as he grasped the hilt. The look on his face was like someone welcoming home a lover. He dropped his cane, seized the sword with both hands, and waved it over his head in a circle. A shower of magic rained out from the tip and sprayed downward around him, obscuring him from sight for a moment.

When the magic cleared, he no longer wore his usual suit but a crimson cloak over a pair of loose-fitting black pants and undershirt. His face was changed as well. He looked younger, his skin less careworn and wrinkled. Yet he was older, too, ageless like Nimue. It seemed his transformation was complete. The teacher I’d known was gone, an ancient, evil wizard in his place. For there was no denying he was evil. He’d murdered those people. It took all the courage I possessed not to run away screaming.

“Is it done then?” asked Paul. He sounded both relieved and anxious. I looked at him, my chest seizing from a literal heartache. I couldn’t believe he was involved. It seemed impossible. He’d even tried to stop us from coming this way. Why?

Marrow turned his gaze to Paul, eyes assessing. “See for yourself.” With a flick of the sword, he sent his staff flying across the room into Paul’s outstretched hands. “Give it a try on the girl.”

Before I knew what Marrow meant, Paul turned toward Selene, pointed the staff, and said, “Ana-acro.”

Selene’s body rose into the air, hoisted by the silver rope around her wrists. She shrieked in pain, limbs straining. I gaped at Paul’s sudden ability to do magic.

Jumping off the tomb, I shouted the counter-spell. The magic surged out from my fingers, but Marrow deflected it with a spell from the sword. No, not deflected. He absorbed it into the sword like The Will always did.

Whoever controls the sword, controls The Will, my mom had said. The Will didn’t work on Nightmares, yet the sword did. I couldn’t understand it.

“There’s no point in trying to attack,” Marrow said. “Your spell casting has certainly improved, but it’s no match for me. And I wouldn’t try running away, either. Phoenixes fly very fast, you know.” The bird crooned as if in emphasis, the sound as beautiful and deadly as it had been in the dream.