Cradle

Daemon knew he was dreaming. He had to be. But how he wished that this dream was true.

In this dream he was sitting at a small table across from Jaenelle, no, not Jaenelle, Witch. She was wearing the spider-silk dress he loved so much.

Daemon studied the table. It was set for a game of Cradle.

"Your deal," Witch said, with just a hint of the snarl that usually accompanied these words. Daemon looked into her face. It was expressionless except for her eyes which held both irony and sympathy.

"Jaenelle . . ." he reached out to her. She placed the deck of cards in his outstretched hand. Daemon was sure he had felt the brush of her hand as she pulled away. Carefully, he set the cards on the table.

Jaenelle growled. "Stubborn, snarly male." She didn't smile, but her voice was amused. Slowly, he dealt the cards.

They played in silence. Daemon watched her. She didn't acknowledge it. All she concentrated on was the game. The game itself was more challenging than Daemon was used to. Maybe that was because he'd never played against Witch. And Witch seemed intent to win a game that was impossible for her to win.

Daemon made his moves carefully, but his eyes never left Witch's face. Finally, Jaenelle said, "I win."

Daemon looked down at the board. He'd thought it was impossible for a female to beat his Variation 27, and yet. . .

"You've lost so much, and you will lose much more, but not everything," Witch said, and Daemon knew she was not talking about the game. Daemon saw her eyes shift down to the center of the games board. He followed her gaze. His game-piece was in the center next to hers. Witch smiled.

For the first time Daemon realized they were in the misty place.

"Keep dreaming, Daemon," Jaenelle whispered, and gently kissed his before fading into the abyss. His last image of her was partly Witch, partly his Jaenelle, and partly the tortured child he had seduced so long ago in this same abyss.

When Daemon opened his eyes Tersa was bending over him.

"Trust one who sees," she said.

"Jaenelle," Daemon whispered.

Tersa smiled. It was the same smile Jaenelle had given him. "The dream has come back to the flesh."

"And you," Karla said, leaning over Tersa's shoulder, "need a new variation of Cradle."