my arm swam up to the glass, eyeing me balefully. The air smelled like seawater and brine.
An antique four-poster bed took up most of the wall next to the door. The frame was ornately carved with waves and seaweed and stylized mermaids, and the heavy black velvet curtains were drawn, hiding its contents from view.
“Luidaeg, this is—”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t keep up appearances everywhere; a girl has to sleep sometime.” She gestured toward the bed. “She’s in there.”
I stepped over to the bed, opening the curtains. Karen was lying there with sheets drawn up to her waist, unmoving. The blankets and pillows were a deep wine red, seeming almost bloody against her skin. She looked like a sleeping princess from a fairy story, small and wan and lost forever. Kneeling, I put my hand against her cheek and winced. It felt like she was running a fever, but there was no color in her cheeks; she was burning up without a flame, and her eyes were moving behind closed lids. Still dreaming. She’d been asleep for days, and she was still dreaming.
“Why won’t she wake up?”
“Hell if I know.” The Luidaeg sat on the edge of the bed, nudging Karen in the arm. When this failed to get a response, she nudged again, harder. “She’s really out of it.”
“I know that. Can you tell me why?”
“Not yet,” she said, leaning down and prying Karen’s right eye open. She peered into it, apparently looking for something, before leaning back and letting go. Karen’s eye closed again, but otherwise, she didn’t move. “Huh. How about that.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I balled my hands into fists, resting them against the bed. I hate feeling helpless almost as much as I hate bleeding.
“Could be a lot of things,” she said. “A curse, a hex, bloodworms, food poisoning—you got that knife of yours?”
“What?”
“Your knife. The one I know you carry. Do you have it with you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good.” She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
“Why?” The Luidaeg had a nasty tendency to cut things when she was armed, and frequently, that meant me. I didn’t think I could stop her by refusing to hand over my knife, but I had to ask.
She lifted her head. “Do you want to know what’s wrong with her?”
“Yes!”
“Then give me the knife. I don’t have the patience for your little games right now. This whole situation is pissing me off.”
Wordlessly, I pulled the knife out of my belt and handed it to her. Odd though it might seem, I trust the Luidaeg. I may not always approve of her methods, but I trust her.
She lifted Karen’s arm and paused. “I’m not a child killer. You know that, right?”
“I know,” I said. “If I thought you were going to hurt her . . .”
“You’d challenge me and lose. You know it, I know it, but you’d still do it. Sometimes your sense of honor confuses the hell out of me.” She grinned. “All changelings are crazy.”
“Yes, we are. What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to hurt her; I just need a little blood.” She slid the knife across Karen’s thumb. Blood beaded to the skin, the scent of it filling the air until it drowned out the salt water. “There we go.” Lowering her head, the Luidaeg pressed the cut to her lips in a bizarre parody of kiss it and make it better, and held that position, swallowing. Karen didn’t move.
The Luidaeg raised her head after several minutes, licking her lips. “Well, well, well. I see,” she said, and stood, dropping Karen’s hand. Her eyes had gone white. “I don’t believe it.”
“What is it?” I asked, rising. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” she said, licking her lips again. Her fangs showed when she spoke. “I’d have ripped your heart out of your chest and had it for a toy. It would’ve been a beautiful death.”
“I’m sure,” I said, shuddering. The Luidaeg seemed to like me, but that didn’t mean anything. “Let’s skip that for now.”
She shrugged, licking her lips a third time. “It’s your funeral. She’s an oneiromancer.”
“A what?”
“An oneiromancer, a dream-scryer. She sees the future—and probably the present—in her dreams.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
The Luidaeg sighed. “You’re not getting it. Look, the brat can read the future in her dreams. That means she doesn’t have a very good connection with her body. You with me?”
“Yes . . .” I said. Karen was an