“Exactly,” said Grayson, pulling the trigger, but the pellets from the shotgun didn’t travel far. They left the barrel in very slow motion, hung in the air in front of Arthur, and then dropped to the ground. Grayson and I exchanged horrified glances.
I went frantically through our options in my mind. I could imagine Mr. Wu. Or I could try attacking Arthur myself. But what use would breaking his jawbone again in a dream be? I could play for time until …
“Where’s Henry when he’s needed?” asked Arthur, obviously enjoying himself. He was all in black, like the night before, and it seemed almost as if he were shining from inside. If you could have a dark light shining.
I could … surrender.
“Arthur, please,” I said, putting as much genuine feeling as possible into my voice. “I’m sorry that I … hurt you. I’m sorry you’ve had pain and … and grief because of me. I’m terribly sorry for all that.”
“No, you’re not,” said Arthur, putting out his hand. Suddenly it was icy cold in the corridor. Within a split second, the walls, the floor, and the doors were covered with hoarfrost—ice crystals even formed on my T-shirt, and Grayson’s hair was white as snow with the frost on it. “All the same, it’s fun to hear you say so. I like it when you whimper like that. Maybe you should fall on your knees to me?”
How did Arthur do that? He wasn’t even moving his hands. He was incredibly good at this.
The floor was like a skating rink now. My teeth began to chatter. My breath formed little white clouds in the air.
I must … warmth … fire … Oh God, it was so cold!
“You’re such a…,” Grayson began, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. The ice was climbing up from his feet at high speed, covering him with a thick, glassy layer that left him rigid as a statue, entirely motionless, an expression of sheer horror frozen on his features.
Arthur laughed, satisfied. “And now for you,” he said, turning his angelic face to me. Had I really thought that demons didn’t exist? Arthur might not be of ancient Babylonian origin, but he was demonic, no doubt about that.
How could I have let myself think of surrendering? I should have fought back—that was the only answer to someone as vicious as Arthur. But it was too late for that now. My feet were already encased in ice up to the ankles. And the cold had sunk deep into my bones, so deep that I couldn’t even think of fire anymore.
All that I could do was stare at Arthur.
“Arthur, please,” I whispered through numb lips that were blue with cold. “Don’t do anything to my sister. Don’t hurt her.”
Arthur just laughed. “Make yourself a few nice, warm thoughts while I’m gone,” he said, opening Mia’s door and disappearing into her dream without another glance at me.
Beside me, Grayson’s statue, with a dreadful cracking sound, broke apart into a thousand tiny splinters of ice. They slid all over the floor, glittering in the milky light. There was no sign of Grayson himself.
Oh God—I must do something! Every second counted now. I tried to pull myself together and concentrate. I told myself that what Arthur imagined couldn’t have any power over me while he was gone, but at least thirty seconds passed before I finally managed to melt the ice and get my normal body temperature back. Precious seconds during which Mia was in danger, and I hadn’t the faintest idea what to do next. At last I felt that I could move my little finger, then my hand, finally my whole body. There was still no sign of Henry when I followed Arthur and slipped into Mia’s dream.
And here I was now. I’d gone from room to room, through countless doors, with time running out like water draining away.
Why couldn’t I just wake from this dream?
29
DESPONDENTLY, I OPENED the next door. I’d stopped running. It made no difference how fast I raced through Mia’s dream; it was never going to end, whichever way I went.
This time, however, I found myself not in another empty room, but in Mia’s bedroom.
For a wonderful, exhausted second, I thought I had finally awoken, but then I realized that in that case I’d hardly be seeing a second Liv half sitting, half lying in Mia’s bed.
Mia was sitting beside this Dream-Liv and talking to someone standing by the window.
Grayson. He had dug his hands in his pockets and was smiling warmly at Mia. Even before he turned his head to me, I knew it wasn’t really Grayson. Of course not.
“You’ve arrived at just the right time, Liv,” said Arthur in Grayson’s voice. Obviously he’d been just waiting for me. “What a shame that you’re only a painting on the wall, so you can’t do anything but watch.”
“That’s not true,” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get the words out. Bewildered, I looked down at myself. My hands consisted of many tiny little brushstrokes in skin tones, everything about me was painted, and as I raised my head again, my figure froze, in exactly the same position as when I was caught in the ice just now, only this time it was in oil paint.