Beautiful nightmares, p.6
Beautiful Nightmares, page 6
“You would never ask me to do something like that,” I forced myself to say, even as part of me longed to touch him again. Offer comfort however I could. The stone had claimed more than half of his body now. Oliver started to speak, but I shook my head, hard, as if I could get all the doubts out. Words tumbled out with them. “No. Lies, these are all lies. I know my best friend. I know the dreamscape we grew up in. This isn’t my safe place.”
With that, I smashed my hands over my ears and backed away. I could still hear Oliver shouting, which quickly turned to screams of agony. I closed my eyes and shook my head, denying him, clinging to that sense of wrongness. I knew Oliver. He could change in a thousand ways, but there was no version of my friend that would ask me to save him.
After a few seconds, the screams cut short.
Dreading what I would see, I looked up slowly. My frown deepened when I saw the Oliver imposter hadn’t turned to stone. Instead, he sat quietly in the grass with his eyes directed upward, as if he were hearing something I wasn’t. His expression confirmed that my instincts were right not to trust him—I’d never seen the real Oliver make that face before. As if he were on the verge of a tantrum.
“Again,” a voice said from the heavens.
There was no chance to react. Between one blink and the next, Oliver and the dreamscape were gone, stolen from me yet again.
I stood there, swaying with confusion and pain. I dimly noted that I was in a bedroom. A yellow bedroom. There was a crib to my left made of white wood. How did I get here? Who had I just been talking to? It felt like I’d left something unfinished. A conversation or a thought, maybe…
At the same moment I comprehended that I was holding something, a cooing sound reached my ears. I looked down slowly, my heartbeat like a drum.
A child rested in my arms, her face pink and scrunched, with surprisingly dark eyelashes. The silky hair on her head was dark, too. She was wrapped in a star-covered blanket that was soft against my skin.
I didn’t have a memory of carrying her, giving birth to her, but love for this tiny person swelled in my breast. A love that had no match, regardless of how fiercely I would fight for all the people back home. I touched her downy skin, seeing Collith in the shape of her mouth, recognizing myself in the beauty mark beneath her left eye. I didn’t even think to question anything else, like why I didn’t remember any events leading up to this moment.
“Christine,” I whispered. “That’s your name. I always said I’d name my first daughter after her grandmother. I’m going to tell you all about her. She—”
The words stuck in my throat as Christine’s mouth opened in a gummy smile. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She reached for my face with one tiny hand, still beaming from ear to ear, and I hurried to lean in.
At the exact instant those small fingers made contact with my cheek, her smile vanished. So did mine. I couldn’t see what was wrong; I just knew something was. “What is it, sweetheart?” I whispered.
Thinking to check her diaper, I reached for the edge of the blanket.
That’s when Christine’s face started to rot.
I bit back a scream, not wanting to hurt her, scare her, but I held the baby tighter. Call 9-1-1, an inner voice commanded. Tearing my horrified gaze from Christine’s misshapen features, I scanned the room. There wasn’t a phone anywhere in sight, and I noticed for the first time that I was wearing a nightgown, which meant no pockets to hold a cell phone. Frantic with terror, I rushed toward the door.
Her cheek caved in.
“No! Stop!” I screamed, falling to my knees. I didn’t know who I was speaking to. God, maybe. My daughter was dying and only a higher power could save her. Magic, I thought desperately. Magic could help Christine.
As if she were a faerie, summoned with a single thought, Mercy appeared in the corner of the room. She wore modern clothes and her long hair was in a ponytail at the base of her neck. She assessed the situation in an instant. “There is a spell I could do. To save her,” the witch said.
No time to question how she’d known to come. I jumped up and fought the instinct to thrust my baby toward Mercy. It seemed possible that she could break or crumble from any sudden movements. “Do it! Please!” I cried.
Mercy didn’t come closer. Her expression was hard. “It requires the blood of a Nightmare.”
Fuck. I could donate every drop in my veins, but it wouldn’t be the blood my baby needed. There was only one person alive who could help her now. “Damon,” I blurted. “We’ll get Damon and—”
She was already shaking her head. “He’s at work. By the time he got here, the child would be dead.”
“He’s the last one. There are no others!”
“Become a Nightmare again, Fortuna.” Mercy said this as if it were obvious, her voice thin with impatience. She gestured roughly at the bundle in my arms. “It’s the only way.”
Fine. Okay. Anything. I nodded so hard that it hurt. “How? Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
“Pull your power back to you. Reach deep. Release the anger, and fear, and self-loathing. Accept yourself for who you are.”
It felt like small earthquakes were rumbling inside my skull. My stomach churned. What had I been doing before coming into this room? Why couldn’t I remember waking up this morning? Why exactly was my baby rotting in my arms?
A dangerous calm filled me.
Sniffling, I looked back down at that tiny face. She’d gone quiet now. Her fluttering eyelashes were the only indication there was still life inside her body. Blinking rapidly to keep my vision clear, I started singing in a whisper. “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s going to buy you a mockingbird…”
Still singing, I set the baby into her crib as if she were made of something more breakable than glass. She slept on, unperturbed, a tiny fist resting against her cheek. Flakes of her skin fell onto the sheets. It felt like part of my heart rotted, too, as I turned away from her.
Then I took three steps, closing the distance between me and Mercy, and drew back my fist. Her eyes widened just before I rammed it into her face.
A lot of things happened simultaneously after that. First, the stillness detonated with sound. Screaming and shouting from people I couldn’t see, the din so overwhelming that it sent me to my knees, hands clapped over my ears. The second thing that started happening involved the room itself, which was completely empty now. It was like everything had vanished into thin air. Including, I saw with a burst of panic, the crib and the baby inside of it. The floorboards were rising, clacking like teeth. I knelt in the center of the chaos, still incapacitated by the noises that were crushing my bones and boiling my blood.
“Again, goddamnit,” a voice snarled over the sounds of the walls coming apart.
The grip on my mind vanished, and suddenly I knew it was Belanor who’d spoken. The Seelie Prince, soon to be king, who needed a Nightmare for a spell. He’d heard me say Laurie’s words, or Claude had passed them on to him. Don’t you know what strengthens a Nightmare’s power? Unleashed fury. Pain. The things bad dreams are made of. Now he was using my memories, my family, my love against me to do exactly that.
The next time I blinked, I was back in reality. My head was pounding.
Claude stood across the room now, one of his hands splayed over his bleeding nose. He wasn’t wailing anymore, as he’d been doing moments ago, but his shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Belanor looked at him expectantly, and I remembered the order I’d heard him give while I was still trapped in the grip of Claude’s magic. Again, goddamnit. I stiffened.
Seconds ticked by, silent and tense, as Belanor and I waited for the boy’s response. His nose was probably healing already, but his body continued trembling. I watched the young courtier unravel and felt no pity or remorse. I would never apologize for fighting back.
“You can fight back, too, you know,” I told Claude in a voice made of rust. Hearing it made me frown—I must’ve been screaming during the hallucinations. A lot. I met the boy’s gaze and added, “If you don’t like doing the things Belanor tells you to. He’s just a bully. What does your maman have to say about bullies?”
When Claude made a snorting sound, a bubble of snot and blood bursting from between his fingers, Belanor’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Perhaps it’s time to call it a day. Thank you for your assistance, Lord Venhorn. It will not be forgotten.”
“I should hope not, Your Majesty,” Claude’s muffled voice replied. Still cupping his face, his skin now a mottled color, he edged toward the doors. When Belanor didn’t stop him, the young faerie abandoned all pretense. The buckles on his shoes clinked as he hastened the rest of the way, leaving a trail of blue drops. I must’ve gotten him good. A faint smirk curved my lips, and I tipped my head back to rest it against the headboard. I heard the door open and close. The jangle of those obnoxious shoes faded.
Once the boy was gone, silence covered the room like a layer of snow. I knew Belanor hadn’t left. I waited for his next move with every moment bringing me closer to sleep.
“Was it my brother who taught you to shield your mind?” he asked finally.
Something in his tone made me lift my head. Sweat still dribbled down my temples, remnants from the mental battle with Claude. I had no more strength left—not today—and I couldn’t even muster a glare. I met Belanor’s gaze tiredly, wondering how many days it had been since I’d been taken from Granby. Right now, it felt like I’d been here for weeks.
“No. That would be our ex, Collith Sylvyre,” I intoned.
The prince’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the intensity of his focus. Evaluating me again, learning everything he could in order to exploit it. Slowly he murmured, “Until tomorrow, Lady Sworn.”
He put his back to me and started walking toward the doors. “You haven’t had enough yet?” I called after him, a note of mocking in my words.
Belanor’s narrow shoulders stiffened. He turned again, but stopped before he was fully facing me. He kept his gaze directed at the wall as he said, “I’ve tried to be courteous. I’ve tried to be a good host. And you have repaid my kindness like a commoner. So I shall treat you like a commoner, Miss Sworn.”
Something about his posture made my bravado wither. It was that unnerving stillness a predator displayed just before it attacked.
Thankfully, Belanor didn’t wait for a response. He turned and strode out. I tensed, expecting him to slam the door. Instead, he pulled it shut slowly. The latch clicked into place with such gentleness that I didn’t hear it this time.
I stared at that doorknob and thought, Round one, Belanor. Round two, Fortuna.
Silence rushed into the dimming room. The sweat on my skin cooled. Darkness kept creeping close and retreating in exhausting intervals. After a while, it became apparent that I wouldn’t be getting any tray deliveries. Probably for the best. I was weak with hunger, and I probably wouldn’t be able to resist Belanor’s drugged food. My earlier plan to chew through the bedding would need to wait—right now, my body pleaded for sleep. I couldn’t summon the strength to resist. As much as I loathed it, the catheter was about to come in handy.
I closed my eyes again. Something told me I’d need every advantage I could get for round three. I’d seen the look on Belanor’s face, and it was one I had seen on others before him. He was evil. The thing about evil people was that, as a general rule, they were also driven.
Belanor was just getting started.
CHAPTER FOUR
I dreamed of a tree.
A great, eerie, many-limbed tree, lending it the look of a sea monster, surrounded by a strange sea of shadows, underbrush, and other trees that couldn’t compare. The sun rose behind it, sending streams of light through the spaces between branches. I stepped closer, and a stick snapped beneath my foot. I hardly noticed—my attention was riveted to that wooden sea monster. I put out my hand, settling it slowly on the bark. I tensed the moment I made contact, as if I expected the tree to react in some way. Twist and sway those arms, maybe, or creak into the stillness.
At the same moment I arched my head back, trying to get a better look at the inner sanctum of those gnarled branches, a scream shattered my ears.
Just as a bolt of terror went through me, the dream ended.
Panting, I opened my eyes to a smooth, white ceiling. The instant I saw that, I knew I wasn’t in the enormous bedroom anymore. My heart ricocheted, and with a wince, I managed to sit up. Was this another hallucination? Belanor had turned my own mind against me, and I didn’t trust what I was seeing. No matter how real it seemed.
I took stock of my new surroundings. Fluorescent lights made the space blinding. It was even colder than the other one. I suspected I was underground. From my time at the Unseelie Court, I knew the smell intimately. Frozen dirt and must. There was no furniture, no windows, and no colors. The walls and floor were padded, making me feel like I was sitting in the center of a giant marshmallow—even the toilet was covered. A single roll of toilet paper had been placed on top of the water tank.
This was what I imagined the inside of a mental hospital to look like. Especially combined with the fact that I was wearing scrubs and my feet were covered in flat, laceless, rubber-soled shoes.
Unlike a hospital, though, there was absolutely no sound coming from beyond the door. Not even footsteps.
Fresh questions swirled through me. Was I still at the palace? Why the change of scenery? Was this just another hallucination? Too many questions, and not a single answer.
Though I knew there wouldn’t be a way out, I still checked the door because I’d be a fool not to. But it was like something from a spaceship or a lab, in that there was no knob or lock. There weren’t even hinges. I ran my fingers over the white surface, frowning. Did the door just slide up, then?
I supposed that I’d find out soon enough. I backed away from it, letting out an anxious breath. Now what?
The stillness made it impossible to ignore my throbbing shoulder. Strangely enough, I welcomed the pain—it meant the drugs were definitely out of my system. It also seemed like evidence that I was truly awake and these padded walls were real.
If I wasn’t in a dream, then Belanor would be stopping by soon. Or someone worse.
My mind filled with the memory of the Seelie Prince sitting in that tufted chair. His eyes gleaming like bits of metal while he watched me scream and burn.
Fear breathed down my neck now, a hot and acrid sensation. Since waking up, part of me must’ve still been lost within that drugged haze, because I hadn’t felt any panic or urgency. Now it descended upon me like a grizzly bear, tearing at my mind with teeth and claws. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide. Belanor would return, and he didn’t play by the same rules as his brother. He might actually kill me.
Occupied. I needed to keep myself occupied.
While I waited for someone to come, I went through the exercises Dad had taught me. I did sit ups. I jogged in place. It wasn’t long until my crisp, white scrubs clung to my back.
I kept it up for one hour. Then, two. I lost track of time after that, because my ribs started aching and I stopped moving. Spent at last, I sat down and carefully rested against the wall, mindful of the still-healing brand.
“I must really be awake,” I muttered. No dream or hallucination would be this boring.
I kept waiting. No one had thought to hang a clock in the room—or maybe it was intentional—so I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. As more seconds ticked by, the quiet started to feel substantial. Like a thickness in the air. Like a weight pressing down on me and filling my lungs. I couldn’t let myself think about Belanor, even though I probably should have been. I still needed to make a plan for escape and my captor’s weaknesses would play a key role in that.
But I was just a human now. I was tired. I had limitations.
With nothing else to do, I closed my eyes. The light was so harsh that it filled my skull with red. I cracked one eye open and cast an irritated glance toward each wall, hoping to spot a light switch. There were none, of course. I covered my face and swallowed a sigh. Despite the chill that clung to the air and the sweat cooling on my skin, I didn’t let myself shiver, either—I knew there was probably a camera on me. I wouldn’t give Belanor the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort.
After the torture and the drugs, I thought I’d fall asleep instantly. But it felt like I’d been in a car accident, my veins vibrating. I tried all of my old tricks, including the ones from childhood. Counting sheep, meditation, telling myself a dull story. The lights didn’t turn off, but the floor was soft and one of my methods started working. I felt my thoughts slip into the spaces between stars, where the dreamscape used to be waiting.
Then ear-splitting music exploded into the silence.
I leaped up, shrieking, and clapped my hands over my ears. It took a few seconds to separate the sounds and discern that I was listening to heavy metal rock. Sleep deprivation, I thought as I cringed, retreating against the wall again. That was Belanor’s new plan. Was he hoping to provoke the Nightmare to come out and protect me? Save me?
I needed to fall asleep. It was the only way to beat him in this particular battle. He probably wouldn’t come here until I was a Nightmare or dead. There was a third option he was too arrogant to consider—that I wouldn’t succumb to fear or exhaustion. That a human could survive against him.
I gritted my teeth and resettled on the floor, in the same position I’d been in before. Once again, I tried to drift into unconsciousness, this time with blinding lights and deafening music bouncing off every padded surface. The exercising had been a mistake, I admitted silently, because I still hadn’t warmed up after the sweat dried. Allowing myself a moment of weakness, I wrapped my arms around my shoulders in a hollow imitation of an embrace.
Once upon a time, there was a sad girl, I thought with eyes squeezed shut. She slept in a room with other children, but she always felt alone. She remembered her life before the crowded house. A time when she was loved, and didn’t need to hide who she was. Years of magic and laughter. Now she felt like she would never laugh again. All of that changed, however, when she met the boy in her dreams.
