To Summon Nightmares Read online

  "There's no need for you to apologise," she said. "I certainly don't expect sympathy from you. Now, shall we begin?"

  He smiled again, more like a grimace, and sat back on the couch, making himself comfortable.

  Kathleen let herself take several deep breaths, feeling her walls break down, allowing herself to relax and let her magic flow out of its human shell. She leaned forward, placing her neat, manicured nails on either side of Niall's eyes. He flinched and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she plunged in.

  They were in a basement. No, a cellar. Kathleen forced herself to remember who she was, separate herself from the memories. She knew this place. She'd seen it before. As Niall had said, a hundred times. She was Niall now, but young Niall, small and skinny and afraid, like he'd been when he had first come to her. But the present Niall was there too, next to her, behind memory Niall's eyes. He felt resigned, and a little on edge. She didn't know why.

  "All right," Niall was saying, in his memory. "Now, here and here's where you say Khireneth. You must pronounce it properly. Khireneth."

  "Khireneth. Got it. Here and here." Jacky. Kathleen knew that Niall was straining to look at him, even though he couldn't reach beyond the restraints of the memory, and Niall hadn't been looking at him then. He was waiting for the moment when he had looked up at Jacky, glanced at his frightened face, not knowing then what he knew now. What Jacky was about to do. The glance passed, only a moment, and Kathleen felt Niall's heart jump for that moment. Lord, did he still love the boy? She wasn't sure. She knew he harboured quite a bit of hate for him as well, but human emotions were tricky to pin down into exact categories like love and hate.

  "Good," said memory Niall. "All right, on the count of three. One. Two. Three." Kathleen braced herself for this part; it was difficult to handle, so much dark magic. Her sensibilities as a witch rejected it, told her to run, and it was difficult for her to hold on.

  Niall, the real Niall, seemed to have shrunk back, content to watch from afar. She didn't blame him, although she'd told him before to keep an eye out for anything notable. She knew he'd probably have had these moments memorized even if he hadn't been forced to watch them over and over again. There was nothing to notice that he hadn't already. Not for her either, but what else was she supposed to do? She'd watch Jacky's—J6's—memory later today too, compare them for differences, attempt to create a three-dimensional image of the scenario. God, that chalky taste in her mouth was nearly overwhelming. She felt herself cough along with Niall as he forced himself to spit the words out, but—Niall hadn't coughed, had he?

  She tried to run through her memory of the scenario, to remember if Niall had coughed at that moment before. He hadn't, had he? Perhaps the memory was breaking down. She coughed again.

  Kathleen! She heard a voice calling her name. Niall's voice—adult—not the teenaged, memory Niall. He was calling from somewhere behind her, outside of the memory. That wasn't possible, he shouldn't be there! How could he have—

  She snapped her head back, attempting to draw herself out of the memory and back onto the couch in Niall's holding room, but she couldn't. Something was keeping her there, rooting her into her mind. The memory and the cellar and the Latin chant were fading away behind her, leaving nothing but her and her feet rooted to the ground, as if trapped in cement. Kathleen, please don't struggle.

  Niall, what are you doing? She said, forcing herself to keep calm.

  I'm sorry, said Niall's voice. She couldn't see him, just heard him talking in her head. Kathleen, I'm really sorry about this.

  You'll be punished for this, she said. Niall, I have to punish you for this, I told you when we started you were not to go wandering around in my head, not to change things.

  But I have been, he said. I have, and you didn't even notice.

  She could feel her eyes widen as she sat on the couch, frozen with her hands glued to Niall's face. You've been—

  I'm sorry, but yes. I've been looking around in your head for a long time. Whenever you were distracted, looking at my memories, or my magic, I found out I could get in. I know what you know, so, he paused, and Kathleen could feel himself drawing back, could feel herself coming back to her body. But something wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong. I think I've learned how to do this.

  She felt herself breathe and lean back. Her fingers broke contact with Niall, but her mind did not. She saw him blink at her, and felt herself tilt her head, confused by the double vision... no, no it was Niall. Niall was seeing his own eyes through hers, and it was confusing him. She felt herself blink a few times and shook her head, moving her hands down to her lap and breathing deeply. No, no, this was wrong, it wasn't her doing these things. She wanted to resist, wanted to scream at the sorcerers watching to come and put a stop to this, to save her!

  But nothing happened. She sat stock still, staring into Niall's eyes. Please don't try to struggle, she heard him say in her head. It won't work.

  What are you going to do? She hissed. At least she was still conscious. She could salvage this, somehow. She could talk him down.

  I'm sorry, but you can't change my mind, he said. I'm leaving.

  They won't let you leave!

  Not alone. But they'll let you leave with me.

  No! She cried, as she felt her body stand, felt herself lean over to pick up her bag and gesture to Niall, who stood tentatively, looking around the room. He was saying goodbye, she realised, and anger flared up through her. No, god damn it! She wasn't going to let this happen!

  But it seemed she didn't have a choice. She walked towards the door, Niall following her, even as he directed her movements. It was terrible, as if he was right behind her eyes, breathing over her shoulder, and she knew he could see everything.

  She reached the door, swiping the keycard automatically, Niall following close behind her, and for a moment she let herself hope that the Second Hand would know somehow, and wouldn't let her out. But he didn't, of course, how could he, and the door slipped open. They crowded in, uncomfortably close in the small tertiary room, Niall looking down at her with an expression of remorse and pity.

  Please, she said, please don't do this. They'll punish me. If you've seen into my mind, you know about my daughter.

  He sighed. I know, and I'm sorry.

  You're sorry! Yes, I'm sure you're sorry, just not sorry enough! You'll let them kill my daughter, an innocent child...

  That blood is on their hands, not mine, he said. But they were still linked, and she could feel the guilt eating away at him.

  Is your life really more important than hers? Why?

  The light glowed green and the door hissed open. Beyond it stood the sorcerer and the Second Hand, staring at them in shock.

  "There's been a change of plan," she heard her voice say, even as she wanted to scream at them to stop her, stop this, please. "I'm to escort the subject to another holding cell along with J6."

  They glanced at each other warily, and then, stupid brainless drones, they both nodded, the Second Hand standing. "I'll go with you," he said, and she felt herself shake her head.

  "No, I assure you he's quite sedated. It won't be a problem. Please, keep everything as is."

  The Second Hand sat down tentatively. "All right then," he said, and Kathleen swept past him, Niall in tow.

  He was barefoot still, and she could feel the cold metal of the floor under his feet. They were still connected, it was just that he was in control, and she couldn't shake it. How long have you been planning this for?

  Months, he replied. It was partially Jacky's idea, I... I left messages for him, in your head, and him for me.

  Messages?! Why can't I see them?

  I hid them. In your memories. The places you don't like to look at.

  She hated him. All good will she had for him had dissolved and she wanted to strap him to one of the torture racks and hack at his mind and his body until he begged for forgiveness. She felt him flinch at the mental image, and then felt his resolve
steel.

  That's what's coming for me, isn't it, he said. If I don't get out of here. The rest of my life. They'll never let me go, will they?

  I said—

  Tell me the truth.

  She could feel the anger rising up in her like bile. No, they'd never let you go. Just like they won't let me go. And you don't see me fighting it, do you?

  I'm truly sorry, Kathleen. About Mina—

  Don't say her name. Don't even think about her.

  I'm sorry, he said again.

  Her mind was racing, running through scenarios, trying to think of what to do. Leave Jacky, she said suddenly.

  What?

  If you leave him here, they'll still have someone to study, they'll still have use for me. They won't let Mina die. Niall, please.

  She could feel his heart breaking. I'm sorry, Kathleen, I can't.

  Yes, you can! She seethed. I don't understand how you don't hate him, it's his fault you're in here, you know! It was his choice that brought you here, you should hate him!

  Niall gave a mental head shake. I don't, I'm sorry. I don't love him anymore, I can't. But... I can't hate him. And I can't leave him here, either. This was my fault too, and I could never live with myself.

  And what about me? How am I supposed to live with myself?

  Please, Kathleen, you're making this harder than it already is.

  Good. They had reached Jacky's holding cell. She swiped the keycard to let them in, surprising the sorcerers and Second Hand within. "It's all right," she said. "Orders from higher up, I'm to transport the subjects. You can all go on your lunch breaks."

  Idiots, why did they listen to her? Couldn't they tell that there was something wrong, that these weren't her orders? But of course they couldn't. They'd been trained to follow orders, to not question. And now the Guild was getting what was coming to it. But of course, she was the one who'd be punished.

  I'm sure they won't punish you, said Niall as the Second Hand passed Kathleen, informing her that the subject had quieted down considerably since this morning. Of course he had. They'll watch your memories, won't they? They'll see it wasn't your fault.

  Tell yourself that if you like.

  "Jacky," said Niall out loud and he ran to the glass, pressing his hands up against it. Jacky sat on the floor in the centre of the room, his head down, his face obscured by the black mats of his hair. "Let him out!" ordered Niall, and Kathleen had no choice but to obey. She went to the controls and manually powered down the whole system, using the last of the residual magic to unlock the two adjacent doors. She saw Jacky's head pop up, inside the holding cell still, but the next moment he was standing next to them in the observatory, his eyes wide and angry, his hands reaching for Kathleen's neck.

  "Jacky!" shouted Niall, lunging for them and throwing Jacky off of her. "Oh god." He pulled Jacky into a tight embrace, which Jacky returned for a moment before turning on Kathleen again.

  "What are you waiting for?" he hissed. "We can kill the bitch now!"

  "We need her to help us get out still!" cried Niall. "And besides, we're not killing anyone. Jacky! Jacky, listen to me!" He'd coloured the words with magical persuasion. Kathleen could feel it rolling off of him in waves. The Guild would notice. They'd know. They'd be coming.

  Niall glanced at her, his eyes wide. "We've got to go," he said, his voice nearly cracking as he turned back to Jacky, who was hissing and gritting his teeth. "We can talk about this later. We're not killing her." He turned to Kathleen. "Take us out of here, as quickly as possible."

  He was still controlling her. His hold hadn't wavered a bit. God, she hated this. She was never going to let it happen again. With a hiss, she swiped the keycard, pulling the door open and striding down the now empty hallway, Niall and Jacky in tow. One more swipe of the keycard and they were outside, the bright midday sun blinding.

  Jacky screamed, and Kathleen could feel the pain in Niall's eyes through their ever-present connection. Five years underground, no sunlight. It was torture. "Where are we?" hissed Jacky, furiously grinding his fist into his eyes and attempting to look around.

  "A restricted area in North London," said Niall. "Kathleen, give me your car keys."

  "You won't get far," she said, digging into her purse to hand them over. "They'll find you. As soon as you use your magic, they'll find you."

  "We won't be using our magic," said Niall.

  "You won't be able to escape without it!"

  "Haven't you been paying attention, Kathleen?" he said. "We've both been in your head; we know everything that you know. We know witchcraft, untraceable spells, wards to keep from being scried. You'll never find us."

  "Oh," she said. "I'll find you."

  "We should kill her now." said Jacky, and Niall had to pull him away from her. He was nearly twice as large as Jacky, his muscled body a stark contrast to Jacky's near-atrophied limbs, and he could hold him easily.

  "We're not killing her!" he ordered, turning to Kathleen.

  "You might as well," she spat.

  "I'm just going to put you out," he said. "I'll let you keep your memories, so they know it isn't your fault."

  "They won't care," she said, shaking her head slowly. "You know they won't care, you bastard."

  "Would you rather we kill you?" asked Jacky with a small smile. "Because unlike you, I'd be glad to do it. Do you remember the way I begged you to kill me, Kathleen? But you said you couldn't. I'll show you how." He took a step towards her, and Niall must have felt the panic well up through her, because he shoved Jacky away and turned to her, pressing his hands roughly to her temples.

  "I'm sorry," he said, touching his forehead to hers, and she knew that he was. And she hated it.

  I'll find you, she said as she felt him slipping away, felt darkness overtaking her. I'll find you. Don't you ever stop looking over your shoulder for me.

  No, Kathleen, he said. I never will.

  Chapter Three

  Eight months later …

  It was a strange day. The thick grey clouds rolled over the fields and gathered at the horizon, creeping steadily upwards to obscure the blue sky, even as the sun burnt bright overhead. It was a strange day. A day for change. Cohen sat staring out the window of the train, his feet pulled up on the seat in front of him and his laptop bag clutched between his knees and his chest, feeling for all the world that he was too young to be on this trip alone.

  He brought a finger to his lips to chew the ragged nail there, and then forced himself to draw it away, pulling his phone from his pocket instead. He had service still, but he'd forced himself to downgrade to a plan that didn't include data. He was going to wean himself off of the internet if it killed him.

  The screen flashed, indicating an incoming message. He slid his finger along the touchscreen automatically. Hi bro! Not sure if you're out of service yet but just wanted to say good luck and call us if u need anything!

  'Us.' That was nice. He supposed it was true; his father would likely be more than happy to drive all the way across Ireland just to smile smugly at Cohen and imply that he'd known all along that Cohen was too young and immature to live on his own. His mother would be ecstatic at his return. And Halley... well, Halley was just like Cohen, she'd pretend everything was fine to her last breath. Cohen never had known if she was happy about him going to Witton or not. All she'd ever done was support him. But how strange it felt to be going against the wishes of his parents, of the people he loved. Of anyone, really.

  He sighed, leaning back against the scratchy cloth of the train seat and staring out at the countryside. Of course that wasn't true, technically. His family hadn't wanted him to transition. But then he'd had therapists, doctors, years of medical research on his side. This time he had only him, and his gut instinct, and his desire—no, his need—to get away. He let the screen go black again, setting the phone down on the seat next to him and closing his eyes. The sound of the train and the hum of the seats was comforting, and he didn't need to reply just yet. For a moment he
could just be.

  The train pulled into the Witton station a few minutes early, according to his watch. It was a couple minutes after six, and he'd only been riding for a few hours, but already it felt like years since he had woken up in his own bed and driven to the train station with Halley and his mother. He'd spoken with his lawyer on the phone the night before, and she'd assured him that she would be at the station to pick him up and drive him to the Coughton. It had been as much for his mother's peace of mind as his, but now, stepping off the train onto the station platform, Cohen appreciated the reassurance.

  If there was a town nearby, it was very well hidden. The platform was nothing but a block of cement with a weathered metal roof and a long bench. The dirt road in front of it ran parallel along the train tracks and then veered north over the horizon. Turning in a circle, Cohen could see nothing but green hills peppered with sparse green bushes and trees in every direction, and the rapidly darkening sky. He was glad he'd worn a jumper. Summer was coming, but the cold spring was fighting it every step of the way, and the wind that blew in smelled of thunder and rain.

  There were no vehicles in the small dirt lot next to the station, but the train had been a bit early, so Cohen settled in to wait. A quick glance at his phone revealed that he was, at last, out of service. He thought guiltily that he should have messaged Halley back when he'd had the chance. Ah well, he'd call her on the land-line when he got there. He wheeled his suitcase over to the metal bench and sat down, wrapping his arms around himself. The wind was picking up and biting, the cold whipping right through his clothes.

  Time passed slowly as the clouds rolled in. He thought he remembered that the town was south of the station, so his eyes were peeled on the road to the south, hopeful for a car. Sandy's tardiness surprised him. She'd always been incredibly professional, and he began to wonder if something had happened to her. He pulled out his phone again to call her, before remembering that there wasn't any service. Should he try walking to town? Best to wait a little bit longer, first.