Beautiful nightmares, p.32
Beautiful Nightmares, page 32
“No,” he said. He didn’t even hesitate. I wondered what his people would think of his callous regard for their lives. Would this king be so ruthless if he knew they could hear him?
Tilting my head, I gave the Rat King another long, assessing look. He glared back, his lip curled with disdain. It was the disdain that triggered my own ruthlessness. This arrogant male was about to find out just who he’d fucked with. He must’ve had some idea, since he hadn’t taken a single step closer to me, but he was still a fool if he thought he would be walking away tonight. The howling rage within my body abated, replaced by solid ice. I felt my lips curve in a soft, sympathetic smile.
“Luther, dear, I’m afraid I need to call your bluff,” I said gently.
He frowned, but I didn’t wait for his response. With a single thought, I cut the illusions around me short. Still leaning over Laurie, I turned my head to watch the rats blink, some of them already straightening. Those were the ones quicker to realize what had happened.
The rest weren’t far behind, though. Soon every creature within sight was staring at me and the Rat King. “I require a healer for my friend,” I informed them. “I have presented your king with a choice. Acquiesced to my request, or die. Every last one of you, including Luther.”
Once I finished speaking, no one moved or spoke. I looked at the wererats standing closest to where me, Laurie, Peeks, and Gil were clustered. Sensing their fear, seeing it in their faces, I hesitated. It was more than fear for their own lives. They cared about this chauvinistic male who’d just tried to take me against my will. They would surrender to save him. I didn’t need to be a Nightmare to know it—the truth was in their eyes. What had Luther done to inspire such loyalty? What if I was about to add more innocent blood to my stained hands?
I decided to find out for myself.
I knew I probably didn’t need to touch the Rat King to wield the full extent of my abilities—I’d just used them on every wererat around us, none of which I had experienced any physical contact with—but other than the confrontation with Belanor, I hadn’t explored my limits since becoming a Nightmare again. Maybe a small part of me was afraid of my power when it reached those heights. Afraid that the rush, the sense of utter invincibility, would gradually transform me into the creature Gwyn predicted I’d become.
So I removed my hands from Laurie’s chest, trying not to think about how cold he’d become, and darted toward the Rat King.
Though it was probably the last thing he expected, Luther reacted immediately and tried to grab me. But I’d been trained by a vampire; I evaded his grasp by dropping to the ground and sliding over the dirt-covered concrete alongside him, scraping the skin off my palm as I used it for balance. As I flew past, I reached up and skimmed my fingers along the length of Luther’s arm. I popped up behind the wererat at the same moment he spun, drawing his fist back to hit me.
“Too late,” I crooned. He was mine.
Luther’s psyche was more well-guarded than I thought it would be, but this was no impenetrable wall like the ones around Collith and Laurie’s. I saw the Rat King’s eyes widen just before I reinvaded his mind, ramming through the clutter and piles that formed his inner self.
In the physical world, I felt him stiffen. But if Luther fought me again, I didn’t even notice. The wererat wouldn’t move now—the morsels never did, once they felt my claws buried in their brains. I knew his companions wouldn’t risk attacking me, either.
I’d learned much from that single, brief touch, the most important being Luther had no phobias, just as it had been with Gwyn of the Wild Hunt. It made sense, really. When you were a massive shapeshifter with a supernatural healing ability, it stood to reason that you’d let go of those small fears most people had. I’d expected this, but I had allowed myself to hope I wouldn’t have to resort to what came next. To using my power in a way that always pushed me toward the edge of something.
Seeing no hope for it, I went right up to that edge.
I began rifling through the Rat King’s head like someone at a garage sale. I soon learned that he was more intelligent than I’d realized. His thoughts and memories were chaotic, but I could sense the essence of him, who he was, and it was obvious Luther Knopf hadn’t obtained his throne through sheer brutality and strength—he’d used cunning, too. It was a story I would’ve liked to know, but there was no time for that. I kept going.
It didn’t take long to find the memory I needed; terror emanated from it like a light or a beacon. Following Luther’s example, I didn’t hesitate.
In an instant, I discovered the Rat King was afraid of the sky.
He’d spent decades avoiding wide, open spaces. The wererat had been alive during World War II, and when bombs fell on Berlin, he’d watched his mother die. I winced and hurriedly retreated from the memory of her broken body, trapped beneath a pile of debris. After that, young Luther had gone into the ground, and he’d barely left it since.
I wasn’t so cruel as to make him relive those terrible moments again, but I still had a point to make.
In the space of a blink, the Rat King and I both stood on the street where it happened. Stars shone above our heads. Structures loomed on either side—they looked residential, but they weren’t shaped like the houses I was familiar with—and the night was quiet.
“What is this? Where are we?” Luther hissed, his eyes darting around us. His fangs were elongated and his face slightly misshapen. The rat was coming out as a response to his fear.
“We’re in your mind,” I told the Rat King. He said something in German, his tone sharp. Normally I didn’t speak German, but we were in his head, his memory, and I understood the words easily. I am going to skin you alive, he’d said. I gave Luther a bored look. “You can try. I’ll have you blubbering like a baby before you can so much as touch me.”
“What do you want?” he asked, in English this time. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye that promised vengeance whenever the opportunity arose, and it was clear I’d added yet another enemy to the ever-growing list of names in my head.
I tilted my head as I had seen Laurie do a hundred times, but there was nothing pleasant in my voice as I said, “I want to leave these tunnels with my friends tonight, alive and completely unharmed. Which means you’ll have to fetch that healer. I should warn you, though, if Laurie dies I won’t have anything to lose, and you don’t want to see me like that.”
Before Luther could respond, I smiled again, allowing him to glimpse the ferocity I’d let out like a lion from a cage. It was the part of me that had killed everyone in the black market and made ancient faeries cringe away in fear. The part of me Gwyn had liked. The part of me Dracula had wanted for his elite force of soldiers.
The part of me that I was fucking terrified of.
I didn’t let any of this show on my face, of course—Luther only saw the mask of the Unseelie Queen. He stood there, a hulking shape against the dark horizon, his expression mutinous. When it became evident that he didn’t intend to speak, I lifted my hand and flicked two fingers. The sound of planes immediately sounded in the distance. It was dramatic, maybe, but very effective; I could already taste Luther’s terror on my tongue. The flavor reminded me of smoke. I hadn’t intended to go this far, and the fact that I was willing to give up a piece of my soul to save Laurie was something I would need to think about later.
For now, my only focus was on breaking the Rat King of Munich.
“Your choice is simple, and the clock is ticking,” I said over the ominous hum. Screams began to pierce the night, as well. Beads of sweat formed on Luther’s forehead, visible even in the dimness. I raised my voice to continue, “I will spare your life if you save Laurie’s and allow us to go free! What is your answer? Tick tock, Your Majesty.”
The wererat still didn’t respond—his eyes were on the sky. His heart was beating so rapidly that I could see it in his throat, a feathery movement that made me think of a rodent scrabbling for cover. When he still said nothing, I quirked a brow, and the first bomb fell. It decimated a building farther down the street and it felt like the entire city quaked.
Luther paled. “Fine. Yes. I agree to your terms. Now get us out of here, you wench.”
My eyes narrowed, and I could almost hear Collith’s weary sigh as I flexed my power. In the next moment, the bombs were falling all around us, making the ground explode in violent bursts of cobblestone and dirt. The whine of the airplanes was so loud that it nearly drowned out the sound of Luther bellowing for his mother, and he whirled to run.
Satisfied, I ended the illusion and retracted from Luther’s mind.
Back in the rank sewer tunnel, the silence around us was so profound that it seemed like no one was breathing. As if they hadn’t dared to for the entire time he’d been in my grasp.
Once again displaying his exceptional ability to adapt, Luther wasted no time. Turning his back on us, the Rat King directed his attention to a female standing in the mouth of another tunnel. He released a string of deep, terse German. The female listened to him speak, and her eyes widened with every word that came out of Luther’s mouth. When he was finished, she responded instantly, her voice full of disbelief. Luther didn’t answer—he just looked at her. Whatever she saw in the king’s face made the other wererat pale. She quickly bowed and backed away.
After that, there was nothing else to do but wait. I returned to my companions, tense and jittery with power. I wanted to use it again. And again. And again.
My gaze flitted past Gil, then darted back to him. He gave me a knowing look, a look that said he felt the same urges. With half his face covered in blood, he was the picture of savagery. I could still feel that telltale tingle in my eyes. What a twisted pair we make, I thought.
Even more twisted was how grateful I was that I wasn’t alone in this unique, dark struggle.
Mercifully, the healer didn’t take long. Within minutes, a very pregnant wererat emerged from the mass of faces, eyes, and tails. She wore a black dress that looked like something I might find at a boutique store, with charming frills along the sleeves and chest. Her brown hair was gathered in a thick braid, and her round, pale face radiated a calm that I could only dream of feeling. She spotted Laurie straightaway and waddled over to him, paying no heed to the dirty water. Her dark skirt trailed through it like a macabre wedding train.
The sound of my voice made her pause. “If you try to double cross me, or harm him in any way, I won’t choose mercy,” I said.
I didn’t let myself glance down at her swollen belly as I made the threat, but guilt still pricked my heart like a needle. Why did it feel as though I were arguing with Collith instead of scaring a wererat witless?
If the healer found the phrasing of my warning strange, she didn’t dare express it. She simply bobbed her head and refocused on Laurie, putting her delicate hands on the wound over his heart, just as I had. With that, she began her work.
There was nothing whimsical or ethereal about healing. Any Fallen creature who possessed the ability to magically repair people’s bodies seemed to share that single similarity—healing was painful, bloody, and loud. It also came at a cost, whether that was aging the bearer or draining their energy to dangerously low levels. It was why I would never be able to repay Zara for all she’d done.
After a few minutes, the healer’s body began to shake.
“You’ve given enough,” I said coolly, keeping any concern I felt out of my expression. Her breathing was ragged as she leaned back, taking her palms off Laurie. There were still holes in his shirt, the edges stained with blue, but the flesh beneath had knitted together and become smooth once more. When I saw that, breathing suddenly became easier, making me realize that I hadn’t been until that moment.
Laurie still hadn’t opened his eyes. I could feel everyone in the tunnel watching me. Ignoring them, I knelt in the muck and took my friend’s hand in both of mine. His skin was usually warm, and a jolt of fear went through me when I felt how cold it was now. “Time to come back,” I murmured, hoping my voice would reach him.
When Laurie didn’t stir, I swallowed a curse. We didn’t have time for him to regain consciousness naturally, not when we were surrounded by hostile Fallen in a dank tunnel, with even more Fallen searching for us aboveground. Without conferring with the others, I closed my eyes and gently eased into the Seelie Prince’s psyche again. I had no expectations that I would be able to penetrate it—Laurie’s mind was a fortress, just as Collith’s usually was, which was why my abilities rarely worked on them—but apparently a near-death experience had lowered his guard.
I meant to communicate with him, as I had when we’d been on that imaginary mountaintop. I began to say his name, mind to mind. Then a memory glimmered, like a light at the corner of my eye, and I realized that Laurie was inside it. He must’ve retreated there while the healer repaired his broken body.
What sort of memory comforted a creature like Laurelis Dondarte in his darkest moments?
My curiosity was too strong. Knowing time was not on our side, I slipped into Laurie’s past and told myself I would only stay for a few seconds. Long enough to take a look around and urge him back to consciousness.
The moment I entered the memory, I saw everything through its owner’s eyes. Laurie’s elegant hand grasped a familiar doorknob, and with a sense of anticipation, he twisted it. The door opened to reveal his rooms at the palace.
He immediately turned to the left, heading for the room with the piano and the chairs. Collith raised his head, a welcoming smile already spreading across his face. It was the version of him I’d seen in that picture, unscarred and alight with hope. Innocence. I darted a glance toward the wall, where I’d seen the framed image hanging before, but of course it wasn’t there yet. I refocused on Collith, and part of me almost wished I could warn him of all the terrible things that were coming.
The other part of me was glad for the suffering he’d soon endure.
“I have a gift for you,” Laurie said by way of greeting. He kept his voice pitched low to avoid waking Naevys, who slept in one of the other rooms. His arm was tucked behind him as he crossed the room, his footsteps making hollow sounds against the tiled floor. In spite of my limited vantage point, I could see that Laurie wore the clothing of a faerie, down to his knee-high boots. The buttons on his gold brocade vest gleamed in sunlight.
Collith sighed and set his book down on a side table. That stubborn lock of hair fell into his eye, and the sight of it made my heart ache. “A gift?” he repeated. “You’ve welcomed us into your home, Laurelis. I know the toll it must take on your power to keep our faces hidden while we’re outside these rooms. That’s gift enough.”
“True,” Laurie acknowledged, bringing his arm into the open. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “So if you’d like some ideas on how to express your gratitude, I have a few.”
Collith was on the verge of responding when his gaze dropped to the object the Seelie King held. Laurie did the same, and I recognized it instantly. The gilt edges, the long handle. It was the same mirror Collith had left on my doorstep, months ago, when we were still strangers and he’d been orchestrating my path to the throne.
Tilting his head, Collith grasped the handle and held it up. “It’s beautiful, but why would—”
His words cut short, and Laurie waited patiently. After a moment, Collith lowered the mirror to reveal the wide grin he wore. The sight was so surprising I couldn’t help but stare; I’d never seen him smile like that, not once in all the time I’d known him. The feeling that curled around my heart was undefinable, but I knew it was something between jealousy and sorrow. Jealousy that I hadn’t inspired such a smile, and sorrow for how far he had fallen from this boy in front of me.
“…another one of your tricks, Laurelis?” Collith was asking. With effort, I managed to refocus on the scene unfolding before me. Collith glanced at the mirror again and added, “Why does this gift only show me your face?”
At this, Laurie gave him a look that could only be described as tender. I was only confused for a second or two, and then I remembered what Laurie once told me about that mirror.
It was a witch’s spell. She made it so the glass showed you whoever you loved most.
In the next moment, I finally understood why I could see this memory—there was the faintest tang of fear in the air. Like me, Laurie was afraid of vulnerability. He worried about the weakness it would bring and the price he would pay. Because he’d learned that everything came with a price. Especially love.
“Are you all right?” Collith asked.
Laurie looked back at him, which meant I looked back at him, too. The prince we both loved. As Laurie stared in those hazel eyes, now bright with concern, he recognized that it was too late. He’d fallen in love with this faerie, and nothing short of a spell could undo it. And perhaps not even that.
You and me both, I thought with a pang.
I’d barely finished forming the words in my mind when I felt Laurie’s consciousness, his presence. The air was thick with awareness—he’d heard me. My pulse quickened at the realization.
Before I could attempt to reach him again, I was thrown out of Laurie’s head. It happened so quickly, so efficiently that it didn’t cause me any pain, and in an instant we were back in the sewers. I adjusted just as fast as the Rat King had. I moved even closer to Laurie’s prone form, ignoring the water already seeping through the fabric of my gown. I also disregarded the audience surrounding us on every side, watching with their glowing eyes.
“Laurie?” I said urgently, resting my other hand on his newly-healed chest. “Laurie, if you’re awake, please say something.”
A grimace crossed his face. Without opening his eyes Laurie said, “Don’t you know your fairy tales, woman? You’re supposed to wake the prince with a kiss.”
“You know what? I think I liked you better when you were dying.” I smiled to soften the words.
A second later, Laurie opened his eyes. His beautiful silver eyes, which caught a weak ray of light coming from above, making them glimmer like the surface of a lake doused in moonlight. They found me instantly, and my stomach fluttered as a soft smile curved his lips. Moving slowly, Laurie raised his hand and touched my cheek with the tip of his finger. To catch a tear, I discovered as he lowered it again. The water rested on his skin like a tiny diamond.
