He lifted his arm and pointed at the truck that was still in the water, the surf surging around it.

“Rise,” he told it.

The vehicle obeyed instantly, lurching violently as the water poured out of its engine. The driver lolled around like a drunkard at the wheel, as the truck continued its ungainly ascent. At Carrion’s feet the loyal nightmares, which had masterminded his return to life, fawned and cavorted as they watched their naked lord at play.

Carrion dropped his right hand to his waist, palm out, and the nightmares sprang to meet his fingers, coiling themselves up and around his wrist and arm so as to reach the precious place where they had been made: his head. Once they had swum in a collar filled with a soup of sibling terrors, which he had drunk and breathed. They would again, soon. But for now they made two blazing rings around his neck, and were in their heaven.

Carrion watched the truck ascend for a little while longer, and then uttered a syllable ordering its immolation. It instantly blew apart: a fireball of yellow-and-orange flame from which the burning fragments fell like tiny comets, meeting their reflections and extinction, in the sea. Carrion turned his gaunt, tragic face heavenward to watch the spectacle, and a single bark of laughter escaped his lips.

“Ha!”

Then, after a moment:

“What’s a resurrection without fireworks?”

Chapter 24

At the Preacher’s House

MALINGO ROWED THE LITTLE boat in the direction of Ninnyhammer. It wasn’t an Hour with the happiest of memories for either of them, given that Malingo had been Kaspar Wolfswinkel’s slave there for many years and Candy was very nearly murdered by the wizard in the process of escaping. But dark as their associations with Ninnyhammer were, the island was still the closest place to find a ferry that would take them to the massive harbor in Tazmagor on the Hour of Qualm Hah, which would ultimately lead them to the Nonce, and therefore to Finnegan Hob.

When they had reached Ninnyhammer, they decided upon a ferry called The Sloppy. And once they had bought their tickets, waited in line to board, and finally found chairs on the upper deck of the small steamer, the stresses of recent events took their toll, and Candy very soon began to doze.

“If I sleep . . .” Candy said, already halfway there, “I might go dream walking.”

“You mean sleepwalking?”

“No. This is that thing I told you about.”

“Ah. I remember. The Hereafter. Are you sure you’re safe there?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Malingo smiled. “Good.”

The ferry’s captain blew three blasts on the horn, sending plumes of white steam into the night sky. That was the last thing Candy knew of their departure. As the third plume floated to darkness, so did Candy. A blanket of sleep came down, and the ship, the sea, and stars all went away.

She didn’t rest in a dreamless state for long. By the time The Sloppy was out of Ninnyhammer’s harbor, Candy’s dreaming soul had gone home to 34 Followell Street.

She woke in the kitchen. It was daytime in the Hereafter. She glanced up at the clock above the fridge: a little after three. She went to the sink and looked out into the garden, hoping that her mother would be out there, sleeping in the rusted chair, her back turned to the house. Chance—or something like it—had arranged things perfectly. Her mom was indeed sitting in the old garden chair just as Candy had pictured her, asleep, which meant that this was indeed one of those precious times when they could talk together, dreamer to dreamer.

The first and only time they’d met this way before, Candy had left the encounter with a new determination to understand the mystery that had brought her into the Abarat in the first place, an impetus that had led, finally, to her separation from Princess Boa. Now she wanted to tell her mom all that had happened on Laguna Munn’s rock. Knowing that this dreamtime was unpredictable, and that they might be interrupted at any moment, she went straight outside.

She found her mother in exactly the same place she’d been when they’d met before, staring up at the sky. Melissa Quackenbush didn’t need to look around to know that Candy was with her.

“Hello, stranger,” she said.

“Hi, Mom. I missed you. I hope you’re not angry with me.”

“Why would I be angry?”

“Because I haven’t been home to see you since the battle.”

“No, honey, I’m not angry,” Melissa said, turning around now, and smiling at Candy. A true smile, full of love. “You’ve got a new life in the Abarat. And that day when the water came through—”

“The Sea of Izabella.”

“Yes, well, if what I saw that day is anything to go by, you’ve got your hands full. So no, I’m not angry. I worry about you. But things happen for a reason. I’ve always believed that. We don’t always know the reason. We just have to get on with things.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, Mom.”

“I know. I trust you. But”—she stopped and stared at Candy hard, her head turned slightly—“you’re different somehow.”

“Yes I am.”

There was a long moment of silence between them. Finally Melissa said, “So tell me everything.”

“It’s not very easy to explain.”

“What’s so hard about it?” Melissa replied with a little shrug. “You got rid of her.”

Candy laughed out loud, in part at her mother’s plain way of saying something that had seemed so difficult to put into words, and in part out of surprise that she knew.

“Who told you?” Candy said.

“About the Princess? Diamanda told me. The one with the long, white hair. The oldest of the women of the Fantomaya.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Not much really. Not about the Princess herself. But that you wouldn’t need to know anything.”

“She’s gone now. It was hard. Somebody died because of it. But I had to have her out. She’s bad, Mom. And I never knew. I never realized she was there inside me. And now she’s gone—and what she did when I let her go—” She shook her head, knowing she’d never find the words. “Seeing her clearly. This . . . monster who’d been inside me all that time.” She took a deep breath. “Did you ever see that in me? Any sign?”

“Of what? Of something bad in you?”

“Evil?”

“Lord, Candy, no. Never. Of course you had your little secrets. And you were always quiet. There was something special about you. I think even your dad felt that. But evil? No.”

“Good. I was afraid . . . you know how you hear about how people repress things? Bad things? So bad they can’t admit that they did them so they forget them?”

“Well, I wasn’t with you every minute of every day for all those years, but if you’d really done something bad—”

“Evil.”

“—I think I would have at least had some clue.”

“But nothing?”

“Not a thing. If this Princess is as bad as you say she is, I think I would have known if she’d shown herself.”

“But she did, Mom.”

“When?”

“All the time. She was part of who I was. Otherwise how would you have known that something was different? You felt it as soon as you saw me, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She studied her daughter again, with eyes full of love as before, but tinged with a hint of fear. “But now you and she are separated. You’ll stay out of her way, I hope.”

“As long as she leaves me and my friends alone, I hope I never lay eyes on her again.”

“Good. Nobody needs bad people in their lives.”

“Mom, you don’t need to worry. Because when I’ve seen all my friends and I’m sure they’re okay, I’m coming home.”

“Home here?”

“Yes.”

“To stay?”

“Yes, to stay. Why do you sound surprised? This is my real home. With you and Dad and Ricky and Don . . .” Now it was Candy who did the face watching. “You don’t seem very happy about it,” she said.

“No. Of course I’m happy. To have you back home would be wonderful. But . . . things aren’t the way they were before the flood. A lot of people blame you. If you came back, they’d arrest you and interrogate you until they could find something to accuse you of. You opened their eyes to another world, darling. They’ll never forgive you for that. I know they won’t. There are a lot of cruel people in this town. There always were. But now there are a lot more.”