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"Easy there, miss. We'll get you home."
The constable carries me down the street. I hear the percussive clicking of his shoes on cobblestones. Hear the whistle blowing, the voices. I hear myself mumbling over and over like a mantra, "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me ..."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
SOMEONE DRAWS THE CURTAINS. THE ROOM GROWS dusty dark. I cannot speak. Tom and Grandmama are at my bedside. I hear another voice. A doctor.
"Fever . . . ," he says.
It's not a fever. It's the magic. I try to tell them that, to say something, but I cannot.
"You must rest," Tom says, holding my hand.
In the corner of the room, I see the three girls waiting, those silent, smiling apparitions. The dark hollows under their eyes remind me of the skeletal face of that thing on the cliffs.
"No," I say, but it comes out as no more than a whisper.
"Shhh, sleep," Grandmama says.
"Yes, sleep," the girls in white whisper sweetly."Sleep on."
"Something to help with that..." The doctor's voice is tinny. He brings out a brown bottle. Tom hesitates. Yes, good Tom. But the doctor insists, and Tom puts the bottle to my lips. No! I mustn't drink. Mustn't go under. But I've no fight left. I roll my head, but Tom's hand is strong.
"Please, Gemma."
The girls sit, hands in their laps. "Yes. So sweet. Drink and sleep. Our mistress is in now. So go to sleep."
"Sleep now,"Tom's voice advises from faraway.
"We'll see you in your dreams," the girls say as I fall under the drug's spell.
I see the Caves of Sighs, but not as they were. This place is no ruin, but a magnificent temple. I'm walking through the narrow tunnels. As I brush my fingers over the bumpy walls, the faded drawings come alive in reds and blues, greens and pinks and oranges. Here are paintings of all the realms. The Forest of Lights. The water nymphs in their murky depths. The gorgon ship. The garden. The Runes of the Oracle as they once stood. The golden horizon across the river, where our spirits must journey. The women of the Order in their cloaks, hands joined.
"I've found it." I murmur, tongue thick with opiate.
"Shhh," someone says."Sleep now."
Sleep now. Sleep now.
The words drift down a tunnel into my body, where they become rose petals blowing across my bare feet on the dusty ground. I prick my finger on a thorn stuck through a crack in the wall. Drops of blood spiral down into the dust at my feet. Fat green vines push through the cracks. They crisscross rapidly around the pillars in designs as intricate as the Hajin's mendhi. Deep pink roses bud, bloom, and open, wrapping themselves around the pillars like lovers' fingers intertwined. It is so beautiful, so beautiful.
Someone comes. Asha, the Untouchable. For who better to guard the Temple than those no one suspects of having any power at all?
She greets me, pressing her palms together and touching them to her forehead as she bows. I do the same. "What do you offer?"
Offer hope to the Untouchables, for they need hope. Lady Hope. I am the hope. I am the hope.
The sky cracks open. Asha's face is filled with worry.
"What is it?"
"She senses you. If you stay, she will find the Temple. You must leave this dream. Break the vision, Most High. Do it now!"
"Yes, I'll go," I say. I try to get myself from the vision, but the drug is taking hold. I cannot make myself leave.
"Go! Run into the realms," she says."Cloud your mind to the Temple. She will see what you see."
I'm heavy with the drug. So heavy. I cannot make my thoughts obey. I stumble out of the cave. Behind me the paintings lose their color, the roses pull back into buds, and the vines slip back into the cracks. When I come out of the cave, the sky has grown dark. The incense pots send their colorful plumes up to the clouds like a warning. The smoke parts. Miss Moore stands before me with poor Nell Hawkins, her sacrifice.
