But I knew the serpent had not been speaking to him. It spoke instead to the Pattern in the air.

Slowly the droplets of blood began to spin, around and around, faster and faster. They took on a shimmering, silvery quality, then grew clear, becoming a window.

Drifting forward, I peered through it with the serpent. We gazed into darkness.

No, not darkness, but a dark room… a room where a man lay on a high-canopied bed, deeply asleep. A room where a boy stood over the man, trying desperately to shake him awake.

My room. My body.

The serpent-creature breathed, “Yes-s-s… he is the one…”

An odd prickling sensation spread up my neck. I had to do something. I had to find a way to stop it. If the serpent-creature attacked me while I was lying in bed, I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to get back.

The serpent began to chant again. A strange cloud began to gather in front of the mirror. Tendrils began to reach toward the window.

Could it be some poisonous vapor? Something else entirely? I didn't know, but it could only mean harm for me. It grew darker, more solid. One tendril passed through the spinning window and reached toward the bed.

A jolt of horror and fear went through me. I had to stop it. If I didn't do something, I knew I would not live through this night.

Chapter 9

I looked frantically around the room. Except for the serpent, its guards, my brother, and the altar slab, it was empty. Then my attention suddenly fixed on the Pattern hanging in the air before us. I saw the Pattern's flaws now, and I knew where it went wrong. And, as I stared at it, I saw through the droplets of blood a series of dark threads that seemed to be holding everything together.

Yes—maybe I could destroy the window. If the serpent couldn't see me, its spells wouldn't be able to get through.

Slowly I moved closer, circling the Pattern, studying the threads. Yes … those threads had to be the key. If I could break them and close the window …

Using my spectral form, I reached out and touched the nearest thread. It had a strange texture, not quite solid but not quite liquid, either. My fingers suddenly burned from the contact, as though I'd touched a hot iron, and I jerked them back.

The image of my room grew clearer. The largest part of the mist—its body?—began to ooze forward. It was much larger than the spinning window, and slowly, like water pouring through a drain, it began to squeeze through the opening.

If I didn't act fast, I'd be too late. Reaching out, ignoring the pain, I began seizing threads with both hands and ripping them apart. They broke with surprising easy, though at each touch I felt a sharp shock of pain from my fingertips to my elbows. Ignoring it, I worked as fast as I could.

Half of the mist had entered my room. Fortunately, the serpent still had not noticed me or what I was doing. Its attention remained fixed on my bedroom, its chanting, the mist, and whatever dark sorcery it worked against me.

“No more,” I whispered, half to myself, half to the Pattern, willing this thing to be done. More threads snapped and parted. They came apart more easily now. My hands were numb and I barely felt any pain. “You are undone. You are free. This creature holds no power over you.”

Only a dozen more of the threads remained unbroken. A few spinning droplets of blood came loose from the Pattern. They flew off and struck the walls, splattering silently against the bones. Luckily neither the serpent nor its guards noticed.

Working faster now, I broke the rest of the threads.

When I finished, the window into my room seemed to ripple and churn, and then the image disappeared. The dark mist, sliced in half, began to fly wildly around the room, twisting and writhing like a thing in agony. I heard a high-pitched scream that went on and on and on. It had been alive. And I had hurt it.

“What—” the serpent-creature said, its chanting halted.

Suddenly my brother's blood flew everywhere, striking the serpent-creature and his guards in a red shower. Hissing, they all drew back. The Pattern, bloodless, hung motionless in the air now. It shone with a clear bright light like a powerful lantern.

Reaching out, I redrew its shape. Its lines moved under my fingers, uncoiling where it was wrong, bending and reshaping. Suddenly it came together again, whole and correct. I recognized it as a true representation of the Pattern inside me.

Its glow increased. A clear blue light filled the tower. I could see every bone in the wall distinctly now. Still the blaze grew. Individual scales stood out on the serpent's monstrous body as though etched in stone.

Through the Pattern I saw my room again. Horace bent over me, shaking my shoulders frantically. Don't bother, I thought. Nothing could possibly wake me until I returned to my body.

“Close that window.” I told the Pattern. I didn't want the serpent to see me, in case it had any more tricks. “Don't show my room.”

The image of my bedroom disappeared instantly. I felt a sudden swell of pride. It had worked!

Hissing, dripping with my brother's blood, its long tail lashing, the serpent reared back. It searched the tower with its glowing red eyes.

“Who is here?” it screamed. “Show yourself.”

The four hell-creatures drew their swords and turned, looking for me. But I remained invisible to them.

Brighter and brighter the new Pattern flared, glowing like the sun at noon. I reached out and seized it with my hands. With the black threads gone, it no longer hurt. Instead, a feeling of power and well-being came over me. Blue sparks began to stream up my hands and arms, surrounding me, bathing me in a cool blue light.

Holding the Pattern, I faced my half-brother Taine and the hell-creature guards. Hissing, they shielded their eyes and staggered back.

I hurled the Pattern toward the first of them. The hell-creature stood transfixed, unable to move, unable to run, as the Pattern grew huge.

“Kill!” I shouted. It was half command, half wish.

As though obeying my will, the Pattern touched the nearest hell-creature, and in that instant his skin sagged, his flesh seemed to wither, and his eyes lost their glow. Like a dried leaf, he crumpled to dust.

“Now, the others—”

As if it understood my words, the Pattern moved again. The three remaining guards tried to flee, but didn't get far. It touched them, too, and as it did, they became dust.

I felt a surge of pride and power. Finally I was doing something real. Finally I could deal with a threat against my family and myself.

“Now—the serpent—” I commanded.

The glowing Pattern began to move toward him.

“Son of Dworkin,” the serpent said, in a low and gravelly voice. It was now looking straight at me. A coldness touched my heart. “You are revealed. Your magic is like a child's. Be gone!”

Then it unfolded its hands and made a quick motion, almost like throwing a dart at a dartboard. A wall of darkness raced toward the Pattern—toward me—growing huge. I turned too late, and it seemed to blot out everything.

Gasping, I sat up in bed. For a second, I didn't know where I was or what had happened. My head pounded. I felt feverish and disoriented.

Aber. He was bending over me. I saw concern in his eyes.

“Oberon?” he demanded. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Panting, I lay back. Beneath me, the sheets were soaked with sweat. “I… I think so. I just need to catch my breath.”

“What happened?”

“I had another vision. I saw Taine and the serpent-creature again.”

Horace stood just behind Aber, peering around at me. He was pale, and I saw the scarlet imprint of a hand on his left cheek. Aber must have backhanded him for letting his guard down—or for waiting too long in calling him.