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“But it was just a dream!”
“Doesn’t matter. If we can identify another remedy to use, it could work faster and be more effective at healing you.”
Paige scrunched her features in thought again. After a moment, she tugged her lips into a distressed grimace, her hands forming fists. She pressed her fingernails into the flesh of her palms until they hurt.
Dewey flew toward her and placed a paw gently on her arm. “Sit down. Take your time. While it would be nice to identify the beast, we can treat you either way.”
Paige meandered across the room as she forced her mind to recall the details of her dream. She eased into the chair and sank her forehead into her hand, chewing her lower lip.
Images darted around in her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on them. She recalled heat, a shrieking noise, shadowy blackness.
The beast formed in her mind. A black blob with only one distinctive feature: blazing red eyes.
Paige huffed out a frustrated sigh and flung her hand in the air. “It’s no use. All I can come up with is a black form with piercing red eyes.”
“Okay, I’ll run that through the database and see if there’s anything we can come up with before we formulate the remedy to treat you.”
Dewey flitted across the room, and Paige leapt to her feet, darting after him.
“Isn’t there some kind of magical doctor we can consult?”
“Sorry,” Dewey called as he buzzed forward, “we’re on our own in this.”
Paige spiraled around the tower, hurrying to keep up with Dewey as he flew down to the floor below, skipping the stairs. Puffing for air, she found him at the BookTron. He tapped the keys, typing in beast+red eyes+black body, and slapped the enter key.
The machine buzzed away, searching.
Paige glanced at the monitor as results flickered on the screen. “I still don’t understand this.”
Dewey scrolled through the early returns, his head shaking. “What do you mean?”
“Why can’t this just heal on its own? What is the mark of the beast, and why do we need to worry about it?”
Dewey’s eyes never strayed from the screen. “It won’t heal. I told you. It’ll just keep opening and festering.”
“Okay, but is it urgent? Maybe we should focus our energy on finding the mirror first.”
Dewey gave his little head a vehement shake. “No, Paige!” He snapped his head to face her. “This is our priority. If we don’t heal you…”
“What?” Paige asked.
Dewey pressed his lips together, his face scrunching. “You’ll die.”
Paige’s eyes went wide, and she clutched at the edge of the table to stay upright. Her voice rose an octave, and she choked out a one-word response. “What?”
Silence fell between them for a moment as Paige adjusted to the news.
“What do you mean, I’ll die?”
“I mean precisely that. If you aren’t treated, the wound will eventually kill you.”
Paige pressed a palm to her forehead as she circled around Dewey and collapsed into the chair at the BookTron desk. Her breath came in shallow gulps, and her face pinched with worry. “How long do I have?”
Dewey closed one of his paws into a fist and shook his head as he flicked away another entry and clicked on the next result in the list. His eyes slid sideways toward her, and his shoulders slumped.
He flew around her and eyed her back again. “Turn toward the light.”
Paige shifted in the direction his paws shoved her, holding her breath. A tickle ran down her spine when his scaly hands traced the wound’s edge.
