Beautiful nightmares, p.31
Beautiful Nightmares, page 31
He said this with a note of finality. Understandable, I thought with a wince of sympathy. I’d never been thrilled about getting saddled with “Fortuna,” but at least my parents hadn’t named me fucking Rothilion.
Confirming that he’d reached the end of his tale, Peeks remained silent this time. I mulled over everything I had just learned. What I found most interesting was the fact that he spoke of his past so freely—normally, it was in a faerie’s nature to conceal and deceive.
I studied the back of Peeks’s copper head as if it were as telling as a facial expression. Being the Unseelie Queen had also taught me how to notice the smaller things, the subtle ticks and giveaways. There was a hunch to Peeks’s narrow shoulders, and his voice had been too casual. It still bothered him, the change that had overcome his brother and altered their friendship forever. I tucked the information away thoughtfully, wondering if Lyari knew about this part of Thuridan’s history.
After that, the quiet returned in full force. None of us said anything in response to Peeks’s sad story, maybe because he didn’t seem to want one, or because we didn’t know what to say.
Anxiety formed in my gut as I waited for Laurie to take advantage of the lull, to finish the conversation we’d started about my reasons for sparing Belanor. But he didn’t. And as the seconds ticked past again, I sought a distraction from the tension. It wasn’t difficult to find one; my mind went back to our destination. That was when I thought of yet another potential obstacle.
“Shit, what about Viessa?” I blurted. “We may have been allies during the coup, but I don’t know where we stand now. If the Unseelie Court has caught wind of Belanor’s interest in me, maybe she’ll give us right back to him, in hopes of securing—”
“Stop talking,” Peeks said. There was something in his voice that made me obey.
Gil let out what could only be described as a hiss. I glanced at him sharply, but all of the vampire’s focus was riveted on the tunnel ahead, his eyes flaring with an animalistic brightness. His fangs were extended, and they pressed against his lower lip. The pearly surfaces of his teeth gleamed in the harsh glow of the lantern, still slightly blue from the blood of all the faeries he’d ripped into tonight.
“We’re not alone down here,” Gil said, answering my unspoken question. His gaze met mine for the briefest of instants. It was a conflicting blend of concern for me and… eagerness. An eagerness he couldn’t hide and didn’t even try to. A soft breath of unease chilled my heart, like someone sighing into a dark, wintry night.
Laurie, I noted, had drawn his sword again.
Seconds later, we reached an intersection. Peeks, Laurie, and Gil stopped, all of them mute and alert. I didn’t hear anything, and nothing moved in the depths of the four tunnels around us. I kept turning, searching the dark as my heart beat in my ears. For several silent, breathless seconds, I still couldn’t see what had the others standing so stiffly.
Then I did see them, and I wished I hadn’t.
Eyes. Glowing eyes.
I must’ve made a sound of some kind, because in the next breath, that glowing swarm started coming closer. I lifted the sword and held it just as Adam had showed me during our last lesson—my dominant hand just below the hilt, my other on the pommel. I could hear his voice from that day, the memory crisp as autumn leaves against a blue sky. Your rear hand delivers the force of the blow, while the front hand guides the blade.
The three males around me had settled into defensive stances, as well. The lantern shone from the ground now, where Peeks must have put it in order to free his hands.
The creatures made no effort to hide their presence; I could hear their feet splashing through water, though where we stood was dry, thankfully. They emerged from the shadows like a scene in a horror movie. I even heard the high-pitched ring of panic as I took in the sight of their bowed backs and exaggerated front teeth. Before I could form a coherent thought, one of them moved forward, stepping past the invisible line the rest seemed to be trapped behind. As the figure moved into the light, and I got my first look at him, the sword in my hands suddenly felt like a toy. A needle.
It was the most massive man I’d ever seen.
No, not a man, I thought instantly. He was in a form halfway between a human-shaped male and a… rat. That had to be it. Where his face should’ve been was a long snout, complete with whiskers and a pink nose. Until that moment, I had always thought rat’s noses were cute, but there was nothing cute about the creature sizing me up as if I were back on the auction block. I twisted my hands around the sword as though it were a baseball bat.
These things were either shapeshifters or wererats, I decided as my arms tensed, readying for a strike if the big one came any closer. I’d never heard of a wererat, but after everything I’d been through since meeting Collith, my mind was open to all sorts of possibilities.
It was also impossible to miss that the creature in front of me was completely naked. He must’ve been wearing clothes at some point, because scraps of material still stretched across his barrel chest and around his thick waist. My gaze moved downward of its own volition—or so I told myself—and I just barely managed not to raise my eyebrows. But it was fitting, really, that the largest male I’d ever met was also in possession of the biggest cock. It hung there like a third limb, and I shuddered in pity for anyone who attempted to put that inside them.
Realizing that I was staring, my attention snapped back up to the male’s clean-shaven, square-shaped face. Too late—he must’ve seen my horror, because his chest puffed and he gave me a smug grin, revealing teeth that were surprisingly white for someone living in the sewers. He might’ve been handsome, with those teeth and his shoulder-length curls, but the rat’s nose and the smugness in his expression made him unappealing. I was about to roll my eyes when the creature said something in German, and more laughter floated out of the darkness behind him. Laurie and Gil shifted closer to me. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder or peer into the other tunnels. How many were there? Were they surrounding us?
My answer came a few seconds later.
At their leader’s beckoning, more wererats crawled into the light like nightmares, walking on their hands and the soles of their feet. Some of them had tails, long and lined with hair, which snapped in the air or curled around their bent bodies. There was no disparity between the amount of males and females, and several of them draped around the big male as if they had no bones. Still more plastered themselves against his legs. Every face turned toward us, all those eyes round and shining black or red.
The entire image looked like something out of a bizarre, dark painting.
From what I remembered, rats were not a mate-for-life kind of mammal. Wererats seemed to be no different, despite their divine ancestry.
“How can we help you, friend?” Laurie asked at last. His tone was pleasant and he’d lowered his sword, looking completely at ease, as if he often encountered creatures like this while wading through waste-filled tunnels.
“I am Luther,” the big male answered in English, his accent thick, “and you are in my domain now.”
Laurie wasn’t fazed by the threat in those words. He inclined his head in an effortless courtly movement. “We apologize for the intrusion. I hadn’t been aware this… dominion was claimed. We’ll just be on our way, then.”
All at once, the wererat lost interest in us, or maybe he’d just finished his evaluation. He made a dismissive gesture as he turned away, saying over his meaty shoulder, “You may leave. The female stays.”
I frowned blankly before I realized who he was talking about. Rage smoldered in my stomach like hot coals.
“The female,” I said flatly, making Luther turn back, “doesn’t follow your orders. I’m going with my friends, and if you try to stop me, I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful.”
As I spoke, I flexed my arms again, drawing the wererat’s attention back to the sword I held. He went still, and something about his silence emanated surprise. He stared at my face, and I stared back defiantly, my chin half-raised in the air. After another moment, Luther began to laugh. It was a deep sound, forming in the pit of his enormous stomach. His subjects tittered, as well, filling the cold air with echoes of their eerie giggling and cackles. Gil’s expression was murderous, and I gritted my teeth to hold back a snarl of my own.
Then Luther raised his hand, and the sound immediately ceased. He scowled at me now, his moods as mercurial as the wind. “I am the Rat King. I do not argue with prisoners,” he declared.
“Yeah, well, I don’t argue with—” I didn’t notice the self-professed king make any sort of signal, so I wasn’t ready when something moved behind us. Laurie made a sound I’d never heard come from his throat. I spun toward him, terrified of what I’d see. Our eyes met for an instant, just long enough for me to glimpse the startled light within those silver depths. Then Laurie looked down, and it felt like time slowed as I followed his gaze.
A blade protruded from his stomach. It looked like the tip of a dagger or a knife. I knew I was in shock, because the specifics of the weapon weren’t relevant. It’s okay, I reminded myself. He can heal from that. He can survive that.
As if Laurie could hear the thought, his starry eyes fixed on mine again. Before I could move or speak, nine more blades were shoved into him from behind.
Frozen in horror, I watched as one of them went through his heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Everything that happened next occurred over four seconds. Seconds that my dim, shocked mind tracked with the amount of breaths I took.
During the first beat, the first breath, I felt something fall from my limp fingers. The sword, I thought.
Second breath. I heard the sword hit the ground with a clattering sound, but I didn’t try to retrieve it—all my focus was riveted on Laurie. My lips had parted as if I were about to speak, but nothing came out.
Third breath. Before I could move or make a sound, all those knives in Laurie’s body were yanked out. His entire body jerked and blood spurted from the fresh wounds, staining the concrete at our feet. That was when Laurie’s fingers must’ve gone limp, because his beautiful sword joined mine on the ground. A line of blue streamed from the corner of the faerie’s sensual mouth, and he stared at me with his eyebrows raised in an expression of faint surprise. I stared back, still frozen, feeling like I’d been stabbed alongside him.
The breath after that, Laurie was on his knees, water splashing around him as he landed. Peeks finally took action, darting to catch Laurie around his waist. Gil crouched beside me and lifted his fingers as if there were claws at the end of them, all of his focus on the Rat King.
When the others moved, it felt like time started moving at a normal pace again. I blinked, the haze around my thoughts clearing, and then I took in the picture that Laurie and Peeks made. In any other situation, the height discrepancy between them might’ve been comical. As it was, I could see that Peeks was using every bit of fae strength in his possession to keep Laurie upright. He needed help. Why couldn’t I budge? Why couldn’t I go to him?
Collith. This was too much like what I’d felt the night I lost Collith.
Sensing Peeks’s dilemma, somehow, Laurie tried to straighten. He immediately swayed, though, forcing Peeks to readjust his hold. I started to shout for a healer at the same instant Laurie managed to lift his head. The words stuck in my throat. We stared at each other again, and his beautiful eyes had an empty sheen that I’d glimpsed in others’ gazes before him. Fred’s. Collith’s.
It was a look of death.
When I saw that, I felt a familiar sensation inside my body, somewhere deep, probably where my heart and soul met. Like a fissure running through the earth or a cresting wave that was the size of a small city. Gil said my name, his voice a distant sound.
Power exploded from my being.
I threw my arms out, following an instinct that surged so strongly it was as if it came from every Nightmare that had lived before me. The wererats were as helpless as children against my fury. I claimed their phobias without any resistance or challenges, and I was almost disappointed. Almost. The addiction had already rushed back, though, the heady thrill that had sent me to Cyrus in the first place. I felt omniscient. Limitless. Like a god. If I were thinking normally, I might have been worried, especially considering I was only using their smallest fears against them. The biggest ones, the threads woven through the fabric of their souls, those I left alone.
My eyes tingled, and I glanced down as I strode deeper into the tunnel. The water was so dim that I could only make out the shape of my face and see the bright, bright red of my irises, glowing as if my insides were made of fire instead of flesh. The wererats’ terror was all around my body, filling it, roaring through it like a river of horrors. The rush was so potent that I nearly closed my eyes to enjoy it. I kept them open, though, so I could watch my—what had Gil called them?
Morsels. That was it. I wanted to watch the morsels suffer. I wouldn’t kill them, no, I would spare them so they could spread my message. The message that this was what happened when someone I cared about was harmed.
The only one I left untouched was the Rat King.
Remembering myself, I walked back the way I’d come and returned to my companions. If either of them found the change in me strange or frightening, neither male showed it. Luther, however, clearly hadn’t put together that I was causing the pandemonium; his shrewd gaze darted around, evaluating Peeks, assessing Gil. The rest of the wererats moaned and shrieked, still reacting to my presence in their skulls. Some cowered and trembled. Others were already trying to run or fight from the things I made them see. Animals, places, people. A brave few, the strong-minded, were trying to get to me in spite of their visions.
Ignoring them, as if they were as insignificant as shadows, I fixed my attention to Laurie. At some point, he had tipped backward, and his head was now propped against the wall. Thankfully, the position he was in kept half of his body out of the water. Peeks huddled beside him, thrusting his sword at one of the wererats in a clear threat. I didn’t tell him it was unnecessary—I was in control now, and none of these creatures were strong enough to break free of my influence—because I knew better than anyone the comfort of holding a weapon during moments of fear.
Whatever had caused my hesitation before was gone now, and I finally knelt at Laurie’s side, pressing my hands on the wound where his heart was. His blood was wet and warm against my skin. The feel of it made something inside me twist, but I didn’t flinch. Laurie was all that mattered now. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face twisted in a grimace. His beautiful skin, normally an alluring combination of silver and gold, somehow, if the light hit it just right, was the color of chalk.
“Laurie?” I said, my calm voice at odds with the chaos of the rats. “Laurie, can you heal from this?”
He didn’t answer.
The fissure within me opened wider. I arched my head back to look up at a wererat trembling nearby. She was small but muscled, and her brown hair was cut short around her ears. In certain ways, she reminded me of Cora, the young werewolf alpha I’d befriended. I noted this wererat wore a thick coat and tight jeans, the clothes surprisingly clean and well-made, despite our surroundings. Maybe there was more to these creatures than it seemed.
But that wasn’t important right now. This wererat was the one who’d put a knife through Laurie’s heart.
I could see the fear in her head, hear her wild string of thoughts. The words were a blend of German and Enochian that I only understood because I’d become part of her. Fuck, fuck, landed the killing blow, she’s going to blame me, holy shit, who is this bitch, fuck—
“The knife,” I said, making my voice sound vast and ancient in her mind. “Was it dipped in holy water? Was there a spell on it?”
Eyes wide with terror, she shook her head so hard that strands of her hair whipped across her forehead and stuck there. I got the feeling that if the female tried to respond out loud, the only sound to come from her throat would’ve been a high, incomprehensible squeak.
That was when Luther must’ve figured out that I was responsible for everything happening, because he started toward me with a thunderous expression, his huge fists clenched at his sides. I knew a single blow from one of those would make me see stars. I turned and, using the movement of my body to summon it, directed my power at him as if it were a physical thing. It was exactly how I’d turned toward Savannah and ended up killing Collith instead.
But this time, I saw the danger. This time, I didn’t let the fury spread to every part of my mind. At the last second, I pulled my power back, making it painful instead of lethal. I was mildly surprised when Luther fought back and managed to keep me out. I didn’t push harder; it wasn’t my goal to get past his defenses. Only to distract him while I attended to Laurie.
With the Rat King preoccupied, I looked at my friend’s face again, then at his injuries—despite the wererat’s claim about her knife, those gaps in his flesh didn’t seem to be closing. The damage must’ve been substantial to immobilize him like this. I pushed down harder on the spot over his heart, wishing for the first time that I’d been born as a healer instead of a Nightmare.
The pressure made Laurie’s eyes crack open, and they were bright with pain. The ends of his hair trailed through the water as he tried to move his head. His throat worked. Suddenly I had an awful suspicion that he was trying to say goodbye.
“Shut up. Shut up, right now. You’re not going to die on me. I won’t allow it,” I told him, tight-lipped with fury. Resolve hardened inside me, more solid than any rock or fist. I raised my gaze back to the Rat King of Munich and relented in my battering against his mind. He recovered so quickly that I might’ve admired him under different circumstances. In an instant, Luther’s eyes focused on me, and they were black with wrath. My own voice brimmed with violence as I told him, “Summon your best healer, right now, or I kill you all where you stand.”
Confirming that he’d reached the end of his tale, Peeks remained silent this time. I mulled over everything I had just learned. What I found most interesting was the fact that he spoke of his past so freely—normally, it was in a faerie’s nature to conceal and deceive.
I studied the back of Peeks’s copper head as if it were as telling as a facial expression. Being the Unseelie Queen had also taught me how to notice the smaller things, the subtle ticks and giveaways. There was a hunch to Peeks’s narrow shoulders, and his voice had been too casual. It still bothered him, the change that had overcome his brother and altered their friendship forever. I tucked the information away thoughtfully, wondering if Lyari knew about this part of Thuridan’s history.
After that, the quiet returned in full force. None of us said anything in response to Peeks’s sad story, maybe because he didn’t seem to want one, or because we didn’t know what to say.
Anxiety formed in my gut as I waited for Laurie to take advantage of the lull, to finish the conversation we’d started about my reasons for sparing Belanor. But he didn’t. And as the seconds ticked past again, I sought a distraction from the tension. It wasn’t difficult to find one; my mind went back to our destination. That was when I thought of yet another potential obstacle.
“Shit, what about Viessa?” I blurted. “We may have been allies during the coup, but I don’t know where we stand now. If the Unseelie Court has caught wind of Belanor’s interest in me, maybe she’ll give us right back to him, in hopes of securing—”
“Stop talking,” Peeks said. There was something in his voice that made me obey.
Gil let out what could only be described as a hiss. I glanced at him sharply, but all of the vampire’s focus was riveted on the tunnel ahead, his eyes flaring with an animalistic brightness. His fangs were extended, and they pressed against his lower lip. The pearly surfaces of his teeth gleamed in the harsh glow of the lantern, still slightly blue from the blood of all the faeries he’d ripped into tonight.
“We’re not alone down here,” Gil said, answering my unspoken question. His gaze met mine for the briefest of instants. It was a conflicting blend of concern for me and… eagerness. An eagerness he couldn’t hide and didn’t even try to. A soft breath of unease chilled my heart, like someone sighing into a dark, wintry night.
Laurie, I noted, had drawn his sword again.
Seconds later, we reached an intersection. Peeks, Laurie, and Gil stopped, all of them mute and alert. I didn’t hear anything, and nothing moved in the depths of the four tunnels around us. I kept turning, searching the dark as my heart beat in my ears. For several silent, breathless seconds, I still couldn’t see what had the others standing so stiffly.
Then I did see them, and I wished I hadn’t.
Eyes. Glowing eyes.
I must’ve made a sound of some kind, because in the next breath, that glowing swarm started coming closer. I lifted the sword and held it just as Adam had showed me during our last lesson—my dominant hand just below the hilt, my other on the pommel. I could hear his voice from that day, the memory crisp as autumn leaves against a blue sky. Your rear hand delivers the force of the blow, while the front hand guides the blade.
The three males around me had settled into defensive stances, as well. The lantern shone from the ground now, where Peeks must have put it in order to free his hands.
The creatures made no effort to hide their presence; I could hear their feet splashing through water, though where we stood was dry, thankfully. They emerged from the shadows like a scene in a horror movie. I even heard the high-pitched ring of panic as I took in the sight of their bowed backs and exaggerated front teeth. Before I could form a coherent thought, one of them moved forward, stepping past the invisible line the rest seemed to be trapped behind. As the figure moved into the light, and I got my first look at him, the sword in my hands suddenly felt like a toy. A needle.
It was the most massive man I’d ever seen.
No, not a man, I thought instantly. He was in a form halfway between a human-shaped male and a… rat. That had to be it. Where his face should’ve been was a long snout, complete with whiskers and a pink nose. Until that moment, I had always thought rat’s noses were cute, but there was nothing cute about the creature sizing me up as if I were back on the auction block. I twisted my hands around the sword as though it were a baseball bat.
These things were either shapeshifters or wererats, I decided as my arms tensed, readying for a strike if the big one came any closer. I’d never heard of a wererat, but after everything I’d been through since meeting Collith, my mind was open to all sorts of possibilities.
It was also impossible to miss that the creature in front of me was completely naked. He must’ve been wearing clothes at some point, because scraps of material still stretched across his barrel chest and around his thick waist. My gaze moved downward of its own volition—or so I told myself—and I just barely managed not to raise my eyebrows. But it was fitting, really, that the largest male I’d ever met was also in possession of the biggest cock. It hung there like a third limb, and I shuddered in pity for anyone who attempted to put that inside them.
Realizing that I was staring, my attention snapped back up to the male’s clean-shaven, square-shaped face. Too late—he must’ve seen my horror, because his chest puffed and he gave me a smug grin, revealing teeth that were surprisingly white for someone living in the sewers. He might’ve been handsome, with those teeth and his shoulder-length curls, but the rat’s nose and the smugness in his expression made him unappealing. I was about to roll my eyes when the creature said something in German, and more laughter floated out of the darkness behind him. Laurie and Gil shifted closer to me. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder or peer into the other tunnels. How many were there? Were they surrounding us?
My answer came a few seconds later.
At their leader’s beckoning, more wererats crawled into the light like nightmares, walking on their hands and the soles of their feet. Some of them had tails, long and lined with hair, which snapped in the air or curled around their bent bodies. There was no disparity between the amount of males and females, and several of them draped around the big male as if they had no bones. Still more plastered themselves against his legs. Every face turned toward us, all those eyes round and shining black or red.
The entire image looked like something out of a bizarre, dark painting.
From what I remembered, rats were not a mate-for-life kind of mammal. Wererats seemed to be no different, despite their divine ancestry.
“How can we help you, friend?” Laurie asked at last. His tone was pleasant and he’d lowered his sword, looking completely at ease, as if he often encountered creatures like this while wading through waste-filled tunnels.
“I am Luther,” the big male answered in English, his accent thick, “and you are in my domain now.”
Laurie wasn’t fazed by the threat in those words. He inclined his head in an effortless courtly movement. “We apologize for the intrusion. I hadn’t been aware this… dominion was claimed. We’ll just be on our way, then.”
All at once, the wererat lost interest in us, or maybe he’d just finished his evaluation. He made a dismissive gesture as he turned away, saying over his meaty shoulder, “You may leave. The female stays.”
I frowned blankly before I realized who he was talking about. Rage smoldered in my stomach like hot coals.
“The female,” I said flatly, making Luther turn back, “doesn’t follow your orders. I’m going with my friends, and if you try to stop me, I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful.”
As I spoke, I flexed my arms again, drawing the wererat’s attention back to the sword I held. He went still, and something about his silence emanated surprise. He stared at my face, and I stared back defiantly, my chin half-raised in the air. After another moment, Luther began to laugh. It was a deep sound, forming in the pit of his enormous stomach. His subjects tittered, as well, filling the cold air with echoes of their eerie giggling and cackles. Gil’s expression was murderous, and I gritted my teeth to hold back a snarl of my own.
Then Luther raised his hand, and the sound immediately ceased. He scowled at me now, his moods as mercurial as the wind. “I am the Rat King. I do not argue with prisoners,” he declared.
“Yeah, well, I don’t argue with—” I didn’t notice the self-professed king make any sort of signal, so I wasn’t ready when something moved behind us. Laurie made a sound I’d never heard come from his throat. I spun toward him, terrified of what I’d see. Our eyes met for an instant, just long enough for me to glimpse the startled light within those silver depths. Then Laurie looked down, and it felt like time slowed as I followed his gaze.
A blade protruded from his stomach. It looked like the tip of a dagger or a knife. I knew I was in shock, because the specifics of the weapon weren’t relevant. It’s okay, I reminded myself. He can heal from that. He can survive that.
As if Laurie could hear the thought, his starry eyes fixed on mine again. Before I could move or speak, nine more blades were shoved into him from behind.
Frozen in horror, I watched as one of them went through his heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Everything that happened next occurred over four seconds. Seconds that my dim, shocked mind tracked with the amount of breaths I took.
During the first beat, the first breath, I felt something fall from my limp fingers. The sword, I thought.
Second breath. I heard the sword hit the ground with a clattering sound, but I didn’t try to retrieve it—all my focus was riveted on Laurie. My lips had parted as if I were about to speak, but nothing came out.
Third breath. Before I could move or make a sound, all those knives in Laurie’s body were yanked out. His entire body jerked and blood spurted from the fresh wounds, staining the concrete at our feet. That was when Laurie’s fingers must’ve gone limp, because his beautiful sword joined mine on the ground. A line of blue streamed from the corner of the faerie’s sensual mouth, and he stared at me with his eyebrows raised in an expression of faint surprise. I stared back, still frozen, feeling like I’d been stabbed alongside him.
The breath after that, Laurie was on his knees, water splashing around him as he landed. Peeks finally took action, darting to catch Laurie around his waist. Gil crouched beside me and lifted his fingers as if there were claws at the end of them, all of his focus on the Rat King.
When the others moved, it felt like time started moving at a normal pace again. I blinked, the haze around my thoughts clearing, and then I took in the picture that Laurie and Peeks made. In any other situation, the height discrepancy between them might’ve been comical. As it was, I could see that Peeks was using every bit of fae strength in his possession to keep Laurie upright. He needed help. Why couldn’t I budge? Why couldn’t I go to him?
Collith. This was too much like what I’d felt the night I lost Collith.
Sensing Peeks’s dilemma, somehow, Laurie tried to straighten. He immediately swayed, though, forcing Peeks to readjust his hold. I started to shout for a healer at the same instant Laurie managed to lift his head. The words stuck in my throat. We stared at each other again, and his beautiful eyes had an empty sheen that I’d glimpsed in others’ gazes before him. Fred’s. Collith’s.
It was a look of death.
When I saw that, I felt a familiar sensation inside my body, somewhere deep, probably where my heart and soul met. Like a fissure running through the earth or a cresting wave that was the size of a small city. Gil said my name, his voice a distant sound.
Power exploded from my being.
I threw my arms out, following an instinct that surged so strongly it was as if it came from every Nightmare that had lived before me. The wererats were as helpless as children against my fury. I claimed their phobias without any resistance or challenges, and I was almost disappointed. Almost. The addiction had already rushed back, though, the heady thrill that had sent me to Cyrus in the first place. I felt omniscient. Limitless. Like a god. If I were thinking normally, I might have been worried, especially considering I was only using their smallest fears against them. The biggest ones, the threads woven through the fabric of their souls, those I left alone.
My eyes tingled, and I glanced down as I strode deeper into the tunnel. The water was so dim that I could only make out the shape of my face and see the bright, bright red of my irises, glowing as if my insides were made of fire instead of flesh. The wererats’ terror was all around my body, filling it, roaring through it like a river of horrors. The rush was so potent that I nearly closed my eyes to enjoy it. I kept them open, though, so I could watch my—what had Gil called them?
Morsels. That was it. I wanted to watch the morsels suffer. I wouldn’t kill them, no, I would spare them so they could spread my message. The message that this was what happened when someone I cared about was harmed.
The only one I left untouched was the Rat King.
Remembering myself, I walked back the way I’d come and returned to my companions. If either of them found the change in me strange or frightening, neither male showed it. Luther, however, clearly hadn’t put together that I was causing the pandemonium; his shrewd gaze darted around, evaluating Peeks, assessing Gil. The rest of the wererats moaned and shrieked, still reacting to my presence in their skulls. Some cowered and trembled. Others were already trying to run or fight from the things I made them see. Animals, places, people. A brave few, the strong-minded, were trying to get to me in spite of their visions.
Ignoring them, as if they were as insignificant as shadows, I fixed my attention to Laurie. At some point, he had tipped backward, and his head was now propped against the wall. Thankfully, the position he was in kept half of his body out of the water. Peeks huddled beside him, thrusting his sword at one of the wererats in a clear threat. I didn’t tell him it was unnecessary—I was in control now, and none of these creatures were strong enough to break free of my influence—because I knew better than anyone the comfort of holding a weapon during moments of fear.
Whatever had caused my hesitation before was gone now, and I finally knelt at Laurie’s side, pressing my hands on the wound where his heart was. His blood was wet and warm against my skin. The feel of it made something inside me twist, but I didn’t flinch. Laurie was all that mattered now. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face twisted in a grimace. His beautiful skin, normally an alluring combination of silver and gold, somehow, if the light hit it just right, was the color of chalk.
“Laurie?” I said, my calm voice at odds with the chaos of the rats. “Laurie, can you heal from this?”
He didn’t answer.
The fissure within me opened wider. I arched my head back to look up at a wererat trembling nearby. She was small but muscled, and her brown hair was cut short around her ears. In certain ways, she reminded me of Cora, the young werewolf alpha I’d befriended. I noted this wererat wore a thick coat and tight jeans, the clothes surprisingly clean and well-made, despite our surroundings. Maybe there was more to these creatures than it seemed.
But that wasn’t important right now. This wererat was the one who’d put a knife through Laurie’s heart.
I could see the fear in her head, hear her wild string of thoughts. The words were a blend of German and Enochian that I only understood because I’d become part of her. Fuck, fuck, landed the killing blow, she’s going to blame me, holy shit, who is this bitch, fuck—
“The knife,” I said, making my voice sound vast and ancient in her mind. “Was it dipped in holy water? Was there a spell on it?”
Eyes wide with terror, she shook her head so hard that strands of her hair whipped across her forehead and stuck there. I got the feeling that if the female tried to respond out loud, the only sound to come from her throat would’ve been a high, incomprehensible squeak.
That was when Luther must’ve figured out that I was responsible for everything happening, because he started toward me with a thunderous expression, his huge fists clenched at his sides. I knew a single blow from one of those would make me see stars. I turned and, using the movement of my body to summon it, directed my power at him as if it were a physical thing. It was exactly how I’d turned toward Savannah and ended up killing Collith instead.
But this time, I saw the danger. This time, I didn’t let the fury spread to every part of my mind. At the last second, I pulled my power back, making it painful instead of lethal. I was mildly surprised when Luther fought back and managed to keep me out. I didn’t push harder; it wasn’t my goal to get past his defenses. Only to distract him while I attended to Laurie.
With the Rat King preoccupied, I looked at my friend’s face again, then at his injuries—despite the wererat’s claim about her knife, those gaps in his flesh didn’t seem to be closing. The damage must’ve been substantial to immobilize him like this. I pushed down harder on the spot over his heart, wishing for the first time that I’d been born as a healer instead of a Nightmare.
The pressure made Laurie’s eyes crack open, and they were bright with pain. The ends of his hair trailed through the water as he tried to move his head. His throat worked. Suddenly I had an awful suspicion that he was trying to say goodbye.
“Shut up. Shut up, right now. You’re not going to die on me. I won’t allow it,” I told him, tight-lipped with fury. Resolve hardened inside me, more solid than any rock or fist. I raised my gaze back to the Rat King of Munich and relented in my battering against his mind. He recovered so quickly that I might’ve admired him under different circumstances. In an instant, Luther’s eyes focused on me, and they were black with wrath. My own voice brimmed with violence as I told him, “Summon your best healer, right now, or I kill you all where you stand.”
