aren’t really here." But she closed her eyes and gathered her concentration. A Silent’s relative position in the Dream was based solely on where she expected to be. Right now Ara was here and she wanted to be there. On the count of three, there would be here. One . . two ... three.
There was a slight wrench and Ara opened her eyes. She was standing less than two meters behind Temm. Inspector Tan stood with her. Distortions rippled through the forest, Temm, and the man, as if the scene were reflected in a pool and someone had thrown a pebble. The conversation between Temm and the man wavered and swooped unintelligibly. Ara cursed herself for not realizing this would happen.
"Hold still," she ordered Tan. "It’ll clear sooner if you don’t move."
After a moment, the scene settled. The man’s features, however, were shrouded in the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat.
"—me alone," Temm was saying. "I don’t want you near me."
The man lunged for her. Temm gave a scream and ran. Ara and Tan turned as one to follow her. Then both of them halted and stared. The bare trees came to life. They lashed downward like stiff snakes, trapping Iris Temm in a mesh of branches and bark. The wind rose and howled like a cold living thing. Temm struggled and tore at the branches but she couldn’t get free. Ara’s stomach clenched in fear and she had to remind herself that this was nothing more than a recording, that the trees wouldn’t—couldn’t—attack her. Temm’s scream wailed on the wind as the man in the wide-brimmed hat drew close to her.
"You bitch!" he screeched, and smashed her across the face. She screamed again, and Ara noticed the branches had wrapped around her shins and forearms. "I want the flowers! Pretty flowers!"
The branches stiffened and Temm screamed again. Ara realized tears were running down her face. She wanted to run, leave the Dream, or even look away, but she found she couldn’t. Inspector Tan’s face remained completely impassive. Iris Temm’s scream went on and on, mingling with the wind and the growls of the dark man.
"I don’t want to do this," he cried to the skies. "Don’t make me do this!"
The cold air sliced through Ara’s clothes and made the tears on her face feel like rivers of ice. Temm screamed one last time like a banshee howl. With a horrible sound that Ara knew she would never forget, the branches tore the limbs from Iris Temm’s body.
The wind stopped. The branches snapped back upward with bony rattle, leaving the bloody pieces of Temm’s body behind. As Ara stared in horror, the dark man knelt beside the remains.
"Why did you make me do that?" he said in a calm, chill voice. "You make me do it every time. Every goddamned time."
He reached down and came up with a small, pink object. Ara’s gorge rose when she realized it was one of Temm’s fingers. A bit of yellow-gray bone poked out of the torn end. Temm’s sightless eyes gazed up at the black branches above them. Using the bloody end of the finger like a paintbrush, the man wrote something on Temm’s forehead.
Tan leaped forward to get a look. Ara stood frozen where she was. The man flung the finger away and put his hands over his face beneath the hat. Then he vanished like a burst soap bubble. A split-second later, so did the ghostly forest and the body of Iris Temm. Ara stood on the featureless plain alone with Tan. Whispers fluttered on the empty air all around them. It was as if the entire thing had never happened.
"Did ...did you see what he wrote?" Ara asked finally. Her throat was dry and she wanted a drink with more than just water in it.
"Yes." Tan’s rich voice was flat. "It’s worse than I thought."
"Why? What did he write."
Tan looked at her. "The number twelve."
Grandfather Melthine ran a hand through his silvery hair as Ara finished the story. They were in his study, a busy-looking office lined with bookdisks and comfortable chairs.
There was a slight wrench and Ara opened her eyes. She was standing less than two meters behind Temm. Inspector Tan stood with her. Distortions rippled through the forest, Temm, and the man, as if the scene were reflected in a pool and someone had thrown a pebble. The conversation between Temm and the man wavered and swooped unintelligibly. Ara cursed herself for not realizing this would happen.
"Hold still," she ordered Tan. "It’ll clear sooner if you don’t move."
After a moment, the scene settled. The man’s features, however, were shrouded in the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat.
"—me alone," Temm was saying. "I don’t want you near me."
The man lunged for her. Temm gave a scream and ran. Ara and Tan turned as one to follow her. Then both of them halted and stared. The bare trees came to life. They lashed downward like stiff snakes, trapping Iris Temm in a mesh of branches and bark. The wind rose and howled like a cold living thing. Temm struggled and tore at the branches but she couldn’t get free. Ara’s stomach clenched in fear and she had to remind herself that this was nothing more than a recording, that the trees wouldn’t—couldn’t—attack her. Temm’s scream wailed on the wind as the man in the wide-brimmed hat drew close to her.
"You bitch!" he screeched, and smashed her across the face. She screamed again, and Ara noticed the branches had wrapped around her shins and forearms. "I want the flowers! Pretty flowers!"
The branches stiffened and Temm screamed again. Ara realized tears were running down her face. She wanted to run, leave the Dream, or even look away, but she found she couldn’t. Inspector Tan’s face remained completely impassive. Iris Temm’s scream went on and on, mingling with the wind and the growls of the dark man.
"I don’t want to do this," he cried to the skies. "Don’t make me do this!"
The cold air sliced through Ara’s clothes and made the tears on her face feel like rivers of ice. Temm screamed one last time like a banshee howl. With a horrible sound that Ara knew she would never forget, the branches tore the limbs from Iris Temm’s body.
The wind stopped. The branches snapped back upward with bony rattle, leaving the bloody pieces of Temm’s body behind. As Ara stared in horror, the dark man knelt beside the remains.
"Why did you make me do that?" he said in a calm, chill voice. "You make me do it every time. Every goddamned time."
He reached down and came up with a small, pink object. Ara’s gorge rose when she realized it was one of Temm’s fingers. A bit of yellow-gray bone poked out of the torn end. Temm’s sightless eyes gazed up at the black branches above them. Using the bloody end of the finger like a paintbrush, the man wrote something on Temm’s forehead.
Tan leaped forward to get a look. Ara stood frozen where she was. The man flung the finger away and put his hands over his face beneath the hat. Then he vanished like a burst soap bubble. A split-second later, so did the ghostly forest and the body of Iris Temm. Ara stood on the featureless plain alone with Tan. Whispers fluttered on the empty air all around them. It was as if the entire thing had never happened.
"Did ...did you see what he wrote?" Ara asked finally. Her throat was dry and she wanted a drink with more than just water in it.
"Yes." Tan’s rich voice was flat. "It’s worse than I thought."
"Why? What did he write."
Tan looked at her. "The number twelve."
Grandfather Melthine ran a hand through his silvery hair as Ara finished the story. They were in his study, a busy-looking office lined with bookdisks and comfortable chairs.
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