Beautiful nightmares, p.14
Beautiful Nightmares, page 14
But Laurie was here now, I remembered in a comet-bright burst of excitement. It was only a matter of time before he found us down here. And Laurie always had a plan.
A plan that I’d bet didn’t include Finn.
“How long was I out?” I grabbed Gil’s arm in my urgency, fingers biting deep into his skin. There was so much to process. Holy shit, I was a Nightmare again. “Where did they take the werewolf? And how do I look to you? I mean, is my face different?”
The vampire went still, probably reacting to my proximity. His fangs were out, and the sight of them answered my next question on whether he’d fed. I let go quickly, but I didn’t look away. Not when Gil’s answers were so important. “They—” he started.
We both tensed at the sound of the footsteps in the hall. The door shot up with a hissing sound, and Gil’s shoulder bumped mine as he shifted closer.
Fende entered first. The instant I saw him, my pulse was off like a frightened hare. He was wearing his helmet again, and I wondered if there was a Scary Faerie Handbook somewhere that suggested they should keep their faces hidden at all times. Better chances of terrifying your victims, the author had probably observed.
Focus, Fortuna. I was letting my fear take control. I took it back as Fende was followed inside by Belanor and two Guardians.
“Well, look what Tinkerbell dragged in,” Gil said, tilting his head toward mine as if we were conspirators.
This was the part where I said something equally clever or biting. But I was having trouble paying attention, because I’d noticed there were handcuffs on the wall across from us. This wasn’t the same cell we were in before, I thought as my breathing went shallow. Why had they moved us? Why did they need handcuffs?
Shit, my face. The mask was gone. Belanor would see me and know that the Games had worked.
I looked back at Belanor, trying to draw my power close. Now that I wasn’t in the heat of the moment, I was slow and fumbling as I got used to the feel of it again. That was when I realized the Guardian next to him was Peeks.
Son of a bitch. I glared at the red-haired faerie in recognition. He was the one who’d stopped me from shredding every mind in that arena. It was his scent that gave him away. Now that I had my abilities back, my senses were better than the average human’s, and I knew I was right.
Peeks had called himself my friend. Why did he help me survive against Belanor that day, only to get in my way when escape was within sight?
“What do you fear, little Nightmare?” the Seelie Prince asked by way of greeting, drawing my gaze back to him. More time must’ve passed than I realized, because Belanor had changed clothes since we last saw each other—this looked like something he’d wear to dinner. A black jacket, pressed slacks, and shining dress shoes.
His question finally registered. It occurred to me, then, that Laurie’s twin hadn’t noticed any changes in me. He really didn’t know he’d been right all along. He couldn’t see that his vile methods worked. Peeks had swung his spear at my head before I could display the full return of my power, and Belanor probably explained Finn’s sudden show of restraint as a result of whatever I’d said in the werewolf’s ear.
As for how my Nightmare abilities weren’t influencing the face he saw, for whatever reason, my true face must’ve been Belanor’s idea of beauty. Thankfully, no other Guardians had come into the room with him, and if Fende had noticed anything different about my appearance, he wasn’t saying anything.
My thoughts moved quickly. I could use this to my advantage—the longer I kept my abilities hidden, the longer it would delay the mysterious spell Belanor was so desperate to complete. All I knew was that it was a spell he’d killed for. A spell he’d sacrifice anything to see its success.
“Not a Nightmare anymore,” I said at last, wincing to keep up the pretense.
“Something which I still hope to remedy.” With that, Belanor turned.
A fourth faerie came into the room, and the door closed behind him.
When I realized we’d never met before, my runaway heart slowed, but not by much. Whatever face he saw, this stranger wouldn’t know it was the illusion of a Nightmare… as long as he didn’t know what the real Fortuna Sworn looked like.
He reminded me of the beautiful, dark-haired warrior that rode with Gwyn in the Wild Hunt. His skin wasn’t as tanned, though, and there was no bulge of muscle beneath his well-tailored clothes. The faerie’s hair was overlong, falling to his shoulders in strands of darkest midnight. His eyes were a blue that rivaled Oliver’s.
There were also ligature marks around his wrists and across his throat.
“This is Lord Vulen of the bloodline Ryllae. He just returned to Court an hour ago,” Belanor said.
The first name snagged on my memory like a sweater caught on a nail. So this was the infamous Vulen. He was the faerie Belanor had screeched for after one of the occasions I’d pushed him too far. We haven’t been able to reach him, the Guardian said.
I tried to smile at Vulen, but I suspected it looked more like a grimace. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” was all I said.
The newcomer gave no reply. I darted a glance at Belanor, and I didn’t like his smile. Before I could come up with an adequate insult, the Seelie Prince asked, “Have you guessed it yet, Fortuna Sworn? No? I’ll take pity on you, then. I’ve brought Lord Ryllae here because he’s a telepath. Not quite a Nightmare, but just as effective. Most of the time, at least. You may begin.”
The order was directed at Vulen. My terror exploded like fireworks, lighting up the bond between me and Gil.
“Fuck that,” he snarled. Without another word, he crossed the room in a blur, aiming for Belanor. I only had time to open my mouth, about to shout Gil’s name, before Peeks and Fende intervened. Watching them reminded me how deadly faeries truly were. Even Peeks, in spite of his size. Within seconds, they’d overpowered Gil and injected him with a clear liquid. He fought them with his face mashed into the padded floor.
When tremors wracked Gil’s wiry body, I realized the clear liquid must’ve been holy water. The vampire’s mouth filled with a line of froth as the Guardians dragged him to the edge of the room, away from their prince.
My fear burned to ashes beneath a blaze of fury. I was contemplating whether or not to reveal my powers and obliterate them all when Vulen focused on me.
Anticipating a painful assault against my mental walls, I went rigid and instinctively wiped my mind clear of every single thought, including the ones necessary to get us out of this. Telepaths could only hear what you were thinking at that moment. I needed to keep my mind blank.
Belanor dared to step closer. “Let’s try this again. I said, what do you fear, Nightmare?”
Don’t think. Don’t think. Vulen didn’t close his eyes, as I often caught myself doing when I entered someone’s head. He just… looked at me. Another second passed, but nothing happened. I glanced worriedly toward Gil, who’d started regaining his motor functions back. His fingers kept twitching, as if he wanted to swing a fist at Belanor’s head. I wouldn’t mind having a go at it myself.
Why wasn’t Vulen doing anything? My gaze swung back to him, and this time I didn’t look away from the telepath’s beautiful, sharp-edged face. Don’t think. Don’t think.
“What do you see?” Belanor demanded.
The telepath didn’t answer. Several seconds passed, and a satisfied smile started to hover at the corners of my lips. Vulen obviously hadn’t been able to get through. It meant that Belanor wouldn’t be able to use him against me.
My smile vanished when Vulen murmured, his voice like velvet midnight, “It’s the Witching Hour. She’s pressed up against a tree—”
“Please, don’t tell him.” I spoke so quietly that Vulen fell silent to hear me. Surprise flickered in his eyes; he must’ve seen that my request was sincere.
Belanor snapped his fingers. “Keep going.”
Once again, Vulen didn’t acknowledge him. We kept staring at each other, and it felt like my heart was in my throat. Suddenly I was furious at Lyari, and Nym, and Sorcha, and every other faerie who’d made me think it was possible to expect more from their kind. But when the seconds ticked by and Vulen didn’t try to get into my head, I couldn’t help myself. It felt as though something inside me had unfurled, like sunlight coaxing a flower to open. Hope. Maybe Vulen is one of the good ones.
The faerie’s throat moved. His face remained carefully expressionless, though. “She’s getting fucked by a human. He’s wearing a police uniform,” he said finally.
No.
I was mute with shock. Belanor studied me, his lips twisted in thought. “How interesting. Fende, secure her. The vampire, as well—I want him to watch.”
Not a moment after Belanor spoke the words, his armored faerie came at me like a freight train. My head smacked against the wall. Despite the thick pads, the violent ricochet sent a jolt of pain through me. I was too stunned to fight back as Fende seized my wrists and fit them into one set of the padded cuffs. The Guardians were doing the same to Gil with the other set.
Now that I was restrained, Belanor moved closer. Colorful spots filled my vision, but I still saw him reach for the button on his pants. With slow horror, I realized what he intended.
Belanor was going to recreate the night at the crossroads.
The night that I still couldn’t let myself fully think about, or I would lose all control and become the very thing Gwyn predicted.
“Don’t. Please,” I whispered past the white-hot throbbing in my skull. I could feel Gil’s rage and fear, not just through the bond, but all around us. I forced myself to look up at Belanor.
The Seelie Prince’s eyes glittered. Under the harsh lights, the melted side of his face stood out in stark detail. He stopped in front of me, standing so close that I could smell the woodsy shampoo he’d recently used. His gaze roved over my face, starting from my hairline down to my chin. The way Belanor’s lips curled made it clear he liked what he saw. “Now you beg,” he remarked. “Might we finally be getting somewhere?”
Another one of his rhetorical questions, because he reached for me. I heard Gil make a desperate sound as Belanor’s palms skimmed down my sides and then tugged at the drawstring pants I was wearing. The room tilted, my stomach clenched, and for a wild moment I thought I was going to vomit. Panic buzzed in my ears. Belanor said something, the words a meaningless hum.
My mind had gone to that place. That quiet, safe place, where the sky was so blue and the breeze smelled like open water. And there, off in the distance, a shining figure. His was the voice that I heard, speaking my name with a husky edge I knew better than any other sound. Just remember one thing, okay? You’re Fortuna Sworn, baby.
Suddenly the buzzing stopped. The room realigned itself. In a movement so abrupt that Belanor didn’t see it coming, I jerked my head back for momentum and slammed it into his face.
More pain shuddered through my skull, but it was worth it. God, it was worth it. After a moment, I managed to peer upwards again, wanting to see Belanor’s face. But he stood in the center of the room now, a safe distance from me. Or so he thought. He cupped his face, shielding the damage from view. I could still see blue blood dripping off his chin. In that instant, Belanor was the picture of his creepy cousin, Claude, after I’d punched him in the face.
“No, don’t,” Belanor hissed when Fende took a menacing step toward me. “She’s mine.”
The big faerie stopped. No words came out of that helmet, but his silence felt wrathful, somehow. Gil shifted beside me, grunting, which seemed like a good sign—the holy water was leaving his system. I had to buy him time. So I raised both eyebrows at Fende and said, “You know, I’ve been dying to ask. Why do you hide your face? Are you that ugly?”
“I’m going to skin you alive,” Belanor said. His tone was pleasant again, conversational, as if I’d just offered him a cup of tea.
I felt blood run into my own teeth as I grinned. Hitting him must’ve injured me, too. “Try it. I’ll wear your skin as a cape when I walk out of here, because killing you will be an act of fucking heroism.”
“Oh, Miss Sworn. I honestly can’t decide if I loathe you or admire you, but I think I finally understand what has my dear brother so riled up.” The prince’s eyes gleamed. His head swiveled to the side and he said to Peeks, “Leave us. No, Vulen, Fende, not you—just the runt. Go to the control room and turn off the camera for this cell, Sarwraek.”
Peeks didn’t even glance my way. He obeyed instantly, and the door rushed open. I caught a glimpse of the hallway. Freedom. It was the motivation I needed to turn my thoughts back to survival. Belanor came close again, standing just far enough that I wouldn’t be able to head butt him again. Vulen and Fende stayed where they were, the latter a hulking presence that oozed violence.
Ignoring him, I met Belanor’s gaze and gave him another smile, this one close-lipped and vicious. “You made a mistake, Belanor.”
I deliberately addressed him without any royal title. Taking it as the insult I’d meant it to be, the faerie’s cheeks reddened.
“And what’s that?” he asked. His voice was thick with the threat of what he thought was coming.
Fresh adrenaline coursed through my veins. “Assuming I need to be a Nightmare to kick your pathetic, miserable ass.”
The last word had barely left my mouth when I moved again.
I knew I’d only have one shot at this.
I wrapped my legs around Belanor’s waist and wrenched my entire body as hard as I could. He dropped to the floor, exactly as I’d hoped he would. I didn’t hesitate before stomping on his head, putting every pound of weight and all the strength of a Nightmare into the blow. I felt the crunch of bone at the same moment Belanor screamed. I didn’t look down or let him recover. Blood splattered all over my shoe as I stomped again, letting out a feral scream of my own.
The sounds coming from Belanor’s throat cut short. Besides the ringing in my ears, the room was utterly silent.
Breathing hard, I lifted my head to confront the other faeries in the room. Vulen was gone—I had a vague memory of hearing the door open again while I’d been stomping on Belanor—but Fende was still standing near the wall. It was the first time I’d really looked at him head on. Through two small holes in his helmet, I could see his eyes, and they were black with rage. His huge, mail-covered fists clenched. In that instant, I could see how my death would play out. It was going to be much bloodier than what I’d just done to Belanor’s face.
“Fortuna,” Gil croaked. A helpless sound. He knew what was coming, too. What he didn’t know was that I’d gotten my powers back. With Belanor incapacitated, I was officially getting us out of here, and I’d use Fende to do it.
Oblivious to what was about to hit him, the armored giant stormed toward me.
He hadn’t taken more than three steps when his throat exploded.
More dark blood splattered across the floor. Fende’s body toppled forward, revealing the figure that must’ve come up behind him.
Laurie flashed his impish grin at me. Light shone from the open doorway behind him, illuminating his outline as if he were an angel or a god. Well, if gods wore three-piece suits and their hair was artfully gelled. There was something in Laurie’s fist, long and thin, misshapen and dripping. After another moment, comprehension dawned—it was part of Fende’s spine.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for years,” Laurie said casually. He let the spine roll off his palm and fall onto the floor with a wet sound. After that, he produced a handkerchief and began wiping his hands. “Are you ready, Firecracker? We need to make haste.”
“You’re late,” I rasped.
Laurie glanced down at his unconscious brother. He stepped over him gingerly, his nose wrinkling. “I had hoped to play the part of your knight in shining armor, but as always, Your Majesty, you’ve surprised me. Are you wearing scrubs?”
He started undoing the straps holding me against the wall, and I was so relieved that I didn’t answer, sensing that I might sob instead. It felt like there was one lodged in my throat, just waiting for its chance to escape. As soon as the second cuff opened, I hurried away from the wall. I needed to put distance between me and what had just happened with Belanor.
“And who is this? Should I kill him?”
Rubbing my wrists, I followed Laurie’s gaze to Gil, who I’d completely forgotten about during the last adrenaline-fueled seconds. He still hung against the wall, swaying from the injection of holy water. “Absolutely not,” I said firmly, rushing to him. “This is Gil. He was kidnapped by Belanor, too. Gil, meet Prince Laurelis Dondarte of the Seelie Court. You can trust him—he’s a friend.”
I glanced at Laurie over my shoulder. He looked back at me with a strange expression. I frowned, worried that he was thinking about killing Gil anyway. I got the vampire free of the handcuffs and caught him before he fell. He found his footing, and the weight around my shoulders eased.
“Can you walk?” I asked.
Gil just nodded, and I tried not to seem skeptical. What if the holy water was killing him? He had already been weak from leaving the transition incomplete. All things considered, it was impressive he was even conscious right now.
One thing at a time. Adrenaline was still thrashing through my veins like storm-tossed waves, making my thoughts come fast and hard. First thing, get out of this palace. Second thing, find a Door, like the entrance at the Unseelie Court.
It was another thing I’d learned from Kindreth’s journals—that entrance was a spell, and each one represented a life. The life of the witch that had cast it, however many hundreds of years ago. It was one of the ingredients necessary for such long-lasting magic. The final ingredient? A single thought.
The trick is to expect more, Collith had said in my ear the first time we arrived at that rocky outcropping in the earth. There were hundreds of them all over the planet. When Collith had said there were entries to his Court everywhere, he’d been referring to the Doors. But they didn’t just lead to that faerie den beneath the ground. They could take the user any place in the world, or to the Door closest to it, at least. Why had Collith been so vague about the true nature of the spell?
