Alyson Noël - Shimmer

He’d just seamlessly transitioned from a breathing state to a not -breathing state as though it were really no different. Making straight for the bridge with no hesitation, his tail wagging, paws scurrying, as though some wonderful adventure awaited us all.

I placed my hand on his head, combing my fingers through a soft tuft of fur just under his chin before scratching the spot between his ears. Figuring that if I was connected to all those other souls, connected to the energy of the very ground I knelt upon, then why wouldn’t I be connected to Buttercup too?

I concentrated on merging my energy with his, allowing it to stream and meld until I found myself inside his canine head, where I was amazed to see my dog’s own personal version of a hellish experience:

The moment he was pulled away from his mama and his five other littermates so he could come live with us.

I admit, the second I saw that, I started to feel angry again, but knowing that came with consequences, I quickly moved past it. Still, what was I supposed to make of that? I mean, really—was he serious? Had he really viewed the move to our house as some kind of wretched experience?

But then I remembered .

Remembered how he actually spent that first night—or, should I say, how we all spent that first night.

All of us forced to take turns getting out of our beds so that we could try to comfort him as he cried and whimpered and refused to relax.

It was awful.

For us—for him—but probably mostly for him.

He had no way of knowing that the way he felt at that moment wouldn’t go on forever.

He had no way of knowing just how good it was about to get.

Though I had no idea how to get that point across to him, had no idea where to even begin.

Thanks to Rebecca and this horrible bubble she’d created, Buttercup was stuck in the one and only truly bad moment he’d ever known, and as far as he was concerned, he’d never known anything else.

So, I did the only thing I could think of—I curled up beside him and continued to scratch that spot between his ears. Trying to fill my mind with vibrant, happy memories of all the fun times we’d shared, hoping they’d somehow find their way into his brain and maybe even carve out a little space for that sweet, quiet silence to creep in.

And it wasn’t long before the whimpers died down, the whining ceased, and Buttercup lifted his head, popped his eyes open, and jumped to his feet.

Bodhi heaved a big sigh of relief, as I wrapped my arms around my dog and gave him a giant squeeze. Cradling his muzzle with both hands, I peered deep into his big brown eyes to make sure he truly was back.

Then I looked at Bodhi and said, “We have to go find the prince.”

But Bodhi was already shaking his head.

Already lifting his arm and pointing toward the very spot where Rebecca now stood.

Her dog stood right alongside her, looking nothing like the Snarly Yow/Black Shuck/Hell Beast I remembered from before.

This dog was tiny.

And nervous.

The kind with yippy barks and dancing paws.

While I’d done my best to fill Bodhi in on everything that I’d learned about Rebecca, when we were still searching for Buttercup, while I’d tried to make it clear just how dark and evil she was, one look at his face was all it took to see he wasn’t quite sure if he should believe me.

He was conflicted.

Despite all that I’d said, he was so swayed by her sugary-sweet, beribboned exterior he seriously doubted that someone who looked as harmless and fluffy as that was capable of creating a bubble from hell.

Boys.

They are all the same.

All so easily influenced by a bright and shiny saccharine display.

I tensed as she approached, noting the way she made the ground just under her feet transform and bloom into a bouncy, vibrant carpet of green grass and yellow flowering buds that perfectly matched the bow on her dress. Her smile held firm but radiant, her eyes hiding a whole world of secrets I couldn’t even begin to guess at, as she thrust forth her hand and offered a tall, sweaty glass filled with some kind of iced murky liquid.

“Thirsty?” she asked, her voice so high-pitched and syrupy, I felt like I’d overdosed on Halloween candy just by listening to it. Prompting me to grab hold of Buttercup, determined to keep him close to my side. Not wanting him to get anywhere near that runty little pooch of hers who could just as easily turn into the worst kind of Hell Beast.

I glanced at Bodhi, seeing the way he looked at her. Carefully observing as though trying to find some kind of middle ground between all the things I’d said, and all the things his eyes were telling him. His brow lowered, eyes narrowed, while his normally bobbing straw paused against his lips, coming to a complete and total standstill.

“Why not give yourself a break and enjoy a little taste? After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.” She pushed the glass toward him and stared deep into his eyes, but Bodhi just continued to stand there, taking her in. His eyes squinted in such a way that I had no way to read them, no way to know what he might’ve been thinking

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, you know. You should trust me when I say I no longer blame you for being so cowardly and caught up in your own fragile image that you made no move to save me.”

I squeezed my lids tighter, squeezed till my eyes turned to slits, and though I still couldn’t see exactly what he was seeing, I saw enough to know something had changed.

It was the way the air moved and shimmered all around her, making her appear fuzzy and obscured from my view. And I knew at that instant that, to Bodhi anyway, she looked just like Nicole again.

I grasped for his hand, afraid of losing him to that brand of anguish, but he stepped out of my reach in favor of her. His fingers outstretched, gaze unwavering, reaching for the drink I couldn’t allow him to consume.

I thrust my hand between them, determined to keep Bodhi away, the sudden movement alerting her dog and causing it to lower its head, raise its back, and direct a deep, menacing growl right at me.

But before I could intervene, Bodhi had already grabbed it.

Already gripped his fingers around the glass as he stared at Rebecca and said, “You’re wasting your time.” Knocking the drink so hard it shot clear out of her hand and into the trees. “Your glamour doesn’t work on me anymore. You’re not Nicole. In fact, you’re not even close. And just so you know, I’ve let it all go. I’ve forgiven myself. Which means you’ve got no hold over me now that I’m no longer angry.”

She tried her best to hide it. I’ll give her that. But still, it was clear by the way she tilted her head and lifted her chin, by the way she fluttered her eyes as she gazed over him, that she wasn’t quite expecting that.

“Suit yourself.” She lifted her small, slim shoulders, allowing the shimmer to fade until she was fully back to being her overdressed self once again. Her eyes flitting toward mine when she added, “How about you, Riley? Would you like a sip?” Her brow rising as her gaze grew dark and deep, she manifested a whole new glass of tea in her hand. “I promise, it’s nothing at all like that false memory tea the prince served you.” She rolled her eyes and shook her dainty head. “You do realize he’s crazy, right ? I mean, you don’t actually believe he’s a prince, do you ?” Her lips curled and smirked as her brow arced in a superior, haughty way.

“He was one of my father’s workers—and not a very good one, I might add. And he was also a murderer .” She paused with meaning, allowing enough time for her words to fully penetrate. “But never a prince, I assure you of that. You know he’s responsible for what happened to me, right ? He’s a member of the same group of rebels who planned the revolt. It’s true! ” she urged, reading my gaze and correctly assuming I didn’t believe a single word that she’d said. “And you’re a fool for both believing him and feeling sorry for him. Not to mention that you’re a hypocrite too.”