Chapter 44: The Nikolana Device
Dreamer and Levy had completely exhausted the guild library for any books that could give them a lead on Resmond. They'd taken their search to the religious books kept at Kardia Cathedral. Unfortunately, they were only permitted inside at certain hours, and another day was ending with no leads.
"Please, one more hour," Dreamer begged the priest as he gently ushered them out.
"I am truly sorry, sister," he bowed his head, "but the doors must close for the night."
She opened her mouth to argue but Levy pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. "Come on, Dreamer. We'll try again tomorrow."
She pinched her lips together and glanced wistfully at the shelves and books they hadn't checked yet. She felt like they were so close to answers. So close and yet so far… Finally, she allowed Levy to pull her out onto the sidewalk.
It was cool out, despite the season. The moon was rising in the sky, perhaps a night or two from being full—still bright enough to cast pale light on Magnolia. That same moon was casting its glow on Resmond somewhere, as he got closer and closer to fulfilling whatever wicked thing he was planning. And that plan somehow involved Syllest.
"Dreamer?" Levy said. She looked at her. The script mage's blue hair was pulled back by a headband. She was wearing her usual orange dress and red reading glasses. She slid those off of her nose and into her tote bag, revealing tired eyes. "Do you want me to walk home with you?"
The townhouse she shared with Mira was a few blocks south, opposite the direction of the guild hall. Dreamer shook her head. "No, I'm going back to the guild. I'll walk you to the dorm."
"Back to the guild?" Levy frowned. She took Dreamer's hands in her own and met her gaze, worriedly. "D, I know you're worried about this, but if you don't take it easy, you're going to wear yourself down and make yourself sick."
She looked guiltily at her hands in Levy's. "I know… I just… I can't sleep right now. I'm going to go to the guild garden and try to clear my head."
Levy nodded with a tender smile. She didn't release Dreamer's hand as they walked to the guild hall. They parted ways at the doors with a hug. Dreamer watched her walk toward the girls' dormitory for a moment, feeling a little bit ashamed of how much time she'd made Levy spend on this wild hunt with her. She was a good friend, willingly going out of her way to help Dreamer night and day like this. She'd have to make it up to her somehow… after they found Resmond.
To her surprise, the guild garden glowed in the night, lit up by strands of yellow lights that had never been there before. She walked there with a frown. The lights had been carefully weaved through the bars of the fence surrounding the garden. They created a warm, ambient mood in the place, but… She followed the strand to the lacrima-powered source of its light. Kneeling, she pressed the power switch and watched the lights flicker off.
"That's better."
Now, the garden was lit only by pale moonlight, the way she felt it should be. There was something magical about this place in the dark—about the moonflowers stretching their petals toward the sky. With the lights off, she could see the stars, dazzling brilliantly up above. She'd spent many nights sitting on the bench in the garden after dark, realigning her feelings.
She straightened up and opened the gate, which gave a familiar creak. She took a half step inside, then a voice cut the silence.
"I'm insulted."
She turned around and saw the eyes burning like embers in the dark. Macbeth stood before her. He was wearing his long, gray coat but not the fur scarf that complimented it. He wasn't wearing earrings or hair beads or gloves either. The only adornments to his outfit were a black choker necklace positioned above the dream catcher he never seemed to take off. His hands were in the pockets of his striped pants, thumbs hanging out. His belt hung low on his hips, revealing the skin of his lower stomach. She caught her gaze lingering here for a moment—and quickly corrected herself by looking back up at his smirking, black lips.
"Not a fan of my modifications to the garden, Dream?" He cocked his head slightly, the smirk absolutely venomous.
"You put up the lights?" She swallowed, suddenly regretting her choice to turn them off.
"All that hard work and not an ounce of appreciation," his voice was teasing.
"No, no!" She lifted her hands defensively. "It's not that I don't like the lights! It's… I mean, look at the moon." She gestured toward the sky. "It's too beautiful to drown out with lights tonight. I'll turn them back on when I leave, I promise."
He said nothing. Burning embers licked her skin, his gaze combing over her. The intensity in his eyes made a shiver go down her spine.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, in an effort to make this somehow less… awkward? Intense?
"I was getting ready for bed and looked out the window to see that some fly had the audacity to undo the hard work I spent all day doing." The mocking sneer. "I came ready to make someone pay."
She let out a weary laugh. "I'm sorry, Macbeth. Like I said, I'll turn them back on when I leave." She turned her back on him and stepped through the gate. She took two steps and paused, listening to the sound of his boots trudging after her. "What are you doing?"
"Joining you," he said simply.
She turned again, with a sigh. "Macbeth, it's not that I don't want to spend time with you, but… I want to be alone right now." She needed to think.
"So that you can mope, and cry, and feel sorry for yourself?" he laughed. "Yeah, right." He continued to walk forward.
She blinked and a smile crept across her cheeks. "Did you come out here to comfort me?" Warmth filled her chest, as soothing as a cozy fireplace in the winter.
His red eyes were sharp. "Are you dreaming?" A scoff. "I can't miss an opportunity to watch you torture yourself." Amusement shimmered in his expression.
A long sigh escaped her lips. She shrugged. "Whatever you say, Midnight." Seemed like a fitting time to use the pseudonym, considering he was being cruel and creepy again.
She walked to the bench and sat down, resting her elbow on the arm rest, chin in her palm as she gazed at the sky. She didn't protest him sitting next to her, except… How on earth was she supposed to get any clarity of thought when she was sitting within inches of this man? To make it worse, she knew he was staring at her, even though her head was turned away.
For a few minutes, she did her best to relax. She silently recited the names of constellations she recognized, then allowed her gaze to maneuver through the dark spaces between stars. But the blackness, overlaid with the white stars, reminded her of a certain someone's dual-colored hair. A certain someone whose eyes held the same kind of dark power of space, especially when she could practically feel them searing into the side of her head. If he could shoot lasers, her hair would be on fire.
She finally gave up trying to concentrate. She leaned back and stared at the fountain, instead. The water looked black in the dim light.
"Are you glad Erik's here now?" She fished for conversation, because the silent staring was making her insides writhe.
He didn't answer. Continued to stare.
"I had no idea he had a history with Kinana. Things seem like they're getting less awkward between them now, which is good." Casual conversation. Anything to break his concentration on her. "He has a room of his own, right? A soundproof one? I feel like I can remember hearing someone mention that. I guess that must be nice, for someone who can hear people's souls." She shuddered. She was glad Macbeth didn't have that power, or he'd hear the pounding of her heart—hear the less than ladylike thoughts that occasionally crossed her mind regarding the exposed skin at his waist. "How is he going to play in your band with Gajeel? Is he going to wear headphones? You'd think the screaming would hurt his head."
Macbeth still didn't answer. She inwardly groaned, wishing she had the poison-dragon slayer's power. Then, maybe she could hear what this man was thinking when he stared at her for minutes at a time.
"What?" she snapped, finally. She sank into her jacket a bit. The thin material wasn't doing much against the strangely chilled night.
"Why are you so obsessed with finding Resmond?" he suddenly asked.
She tucked her fingers into her sleeves and put her hands under her armpits, squeezing herself tightly, to ward off an entirely different sense of cold. "Isn't that obvious?" Her eyes cut at him. "He's after Syllest. I want to find him before he gets to her."
The bench squeaked as Macbeth leaned closer to her. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, but just as taunting. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you feared him, Dream."
She bit her lip and turned her head. Of course she was scared… He had no idea the things she'd seen Resmond do. The things he did to Rosy… That man was evil. There was no good in his soul. Never once had she detected emotion from him, even when she reached out with all of her magical energy. She'd never sensed anything… No love, no compassion. Even more unnerving, was the fact that she couldn't feel things like hate, fear, desire… No. With Resmond, there was just hollowness. A total void. And that terrified her.
She inhaled a sharp breath when Macbeth's fingers closed on her chin. He pulled her face back to look at him, a bit forcefully. He leaned closer, until she could feel his warm breath on her trembling lips. Until she was being swallowed by pools of blood that scanned her eyes, her nose, her mouth.
"I am the only thing you should be afraid of," he hissed. Had she imagined the slight hoarseness underlying his tone? The tiny tug of desperation on his words? Desperation… for her?
She felt her magic surfacing, as the instinct to read his emotions filled her. She closed her eyes and willed it away. No. I won't read him. That's not how I want this to be. She buried her magical energy. It was enough that she could sense his intensity. She didn't want to put labels on it. She didn't want to know.
His thumb brushed gently across her eyelashes, causing her to open her eyes. She blinked at him, and couldn't stop her gaze from drifting to his parted lips—to his perfectly applied plum lipstick.
"Don't be afraid of him, Dreamer," he said. "He's nothing but an insect. Insects are easy to crush."
He was trying to comfort her.
She nodded, unable to find words, not with her mouth feeling dry like this. Not with her tongue dancing behind her traitorous lips, which had instinctively parted at the sight of his.
"Macbeth…" she whispered his name. "I…" She what? She had no idea what she was going to say. Her lips were still betraying her, forcing out meaningless words from a brain that couldn't think coherent thoughts while it swirled in pools of blood.
"What is it, Dream?" He smirked, baring perfectly white teeth. His hand cupped her jaw. Had he scooted closer to her at some point? When had his leg pressed against hers?
"Oh… I…" She was still at a loss. Even more so now. Her insides felt like they were burning. They felt like Natsu's flames were boiling them from the inside out. And everywhere Macbeth's fingers brushed her skin felt like tingles of electricity—like the static that would remain in a room after Laxus used his magic. She felt like her body was being barraged by every kind of magic, inspired by the spell she fell under when she was with him.
"Mm," he licked his lips, to the delicious horror of her twisting insides, "that expression is so... entertaining." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stroked behind her jaw, nearly eliciting an unwarranted sound from her throat.
Her cheeks burned. "S-Stop," she said, without enthusiasm. Her hands moved of their own accord. One reached up to his stomach, fingers outspread. It was if she had planned to push him away, but when she felt the bare skin there, her hand remained. The other rested on his knee. His smirk widened in response, and the embers in his eyes seemed to burn brighter.
"Stop what?" Face closer. They were sharing breaths now. His thumb stroked the delicate spot on her neck, causing her breath to hitch slightly.
"Stop… teasing me." Her eyelashes fluttered.
Closer… His lips only a hair's breadth away from hers. She parted hers further, in expectation. Her eyes closed. Her fingers trembled on his knee, the other hand now clenching the hem of his shirt.
"Sweet Dream…" he whispered her name like a lullaby, his lips so close that she could feel the vibration of the sound. And just when she thought he would kiss her…
He lifted his chin and press his lips against her forehead.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had completely doused the hot flames that were roaring inside of her a moment ago. He leaned back, breaking the contact they shared, and scooted back to his previous position on the bench. On his face was the evilest smirk she'd ever seen in her life.
"W-Wh…" She swallowed, her eyes wide in surprise. "Why did you do that?!"
"I love seeing the helpless look on your face when I torment you," he answered, with no shame.
"I hate you, Macbeth." She pouted dramatically, though her cheeks were completely flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm sure." He laughed, mockingly and stretched his arms upward, causing the hem of his shirt to lift and expose even more of his stomach, where only a moment ago, her hand had been.
Humiliated now, she stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off of her leggings. "Good night, Satan." She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out of the garden, but not before crouching to turn the lights back on. "Are you happy now?"
"I'm delighted," he answered, standing.
"Hmph. I bet." She turned her back on him and walked toward the guild with a haughty bounce in her steps. Inside, she felt like mush. She felt totally exhausted, like she'd just run a race and now her muscles were trembling from the exertion.
I wanted him to kiss me… What was I thinking! That's MACBETH for Mavis' sake! Of course he wasn't going to kiss me. I should have known…
Yet, she couldn't fight the icy disappointment in her gut.
Shaking her head, she walked into the guild hall. She supposed she could have just walked straight home, but there was no controlling the quick pace of her feet as she tried to create as much distance between her and Macbeth as possible. Maybe she'd go to the bathroom and splash cold water on her face.
Mira was wiping down the bar, humming a tune under her breath. Dreamer walked past the bar with a relieved sigh. Seeing her best friend helped put reality back into perspective.
"Hey, Mira." Another long exhale as she walked past the bar.
"Hi, Dreamer!" Mira hummed happily as she worked on a particularly sticky spot on the counter.
"Is Syllest with Jezran?" she asked.
"Yep. Why aren't you at home, Dream—" Mira looked up from the bar at Dreamer and suddenly stopped in midsentence.
"I wanted to clear my head," she answered. Yeah, like that happened. There were even more thoughts and feelings running through her mind than before.
Mira began giggling uncontrollably. She cupped her hands over her lips, wracked by laughter.
"What? What did I say?" Dreamer blinked at her, shocked. Was she missing something?
"Oh, Dreamer, you naughty thing," Mira winked suggestively at her.
She felt her cheeks get hot. "W-What?!"
"Mirajane, I'm done cleaning the—" Kinana walked in from the kitchen door. She too stopped in midsentence when she saw Dreamer. Her cheeks brightened. "Oh. So that's how it is?"
"I told you!" Mira giggled and squeezed Kinana's arm.
"What are you two laughing about!?" Dreamer was beginning to feel very harassed.
There was a whoosh of wings as Carla flew overhead with paperwork that she was taking to collections. She paused in midflight as she caught Dreamer out of the corner of her eye. A judgmental scowl tugged on her lips. "My goodness, can't you keep your personal activities out of the public eye?" She huffed and continued to fly.
"What?!" Dreamer held her arms out in defeat. "What's going on?!"
It was then that she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She stepped closer, looked at herself, and felt dread crash down on her.
A perfect imprint of black lips was stamped on her forehead.
"W-Wait, no! This isn't what it looks like!" She cried out in horror and lunged for the rag in Mira's hand to scrub her head with.
"Middream for life!" Mira twirled with Kinana, both girls giggling.
"Y-You guys, no!" She waved her hands frantically. Thank goodness he hadn't kissed her lips, or this would be a lot worse. She could just imagine the harassment she'd get if she'd walked in with black lipstick around her mouth…
"Midnight and Dreamer, sitting in a tree—"
"Mirajane, I will kill you!"
"K-I-S-S—"
Dreamer was climbing onto the counter to tackle Mira when another voice suddenly called out to her.
"Dreamer!" The guild doors slammed shut and Levy stood there, a victorious look on her face and a book in her hands. "I found it! I know what he's planning!"
Everything that had happened with Macbeth immediately lost its importance. Dreamer slid off the bar and stared at Levy.
"The Nikolana Device," she said. "He's trying to use an ancient artifact that will cause an earthquake that will destroy continents!"
The guild hall went silent.
Those three words, Dreamer would never forget.
The Nikolana Device.