Beautiful nightmares, p.68
Beautiful Nightmares, page 68
His tone became distant, as if he were seeing a slideshow of memories where the sun should be. “I view life like a story,” Laurie said. “A story in which I am the main character, and every terrible thing that happens is just a chapter in it. Stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end, so I always remind myself that I am somewhere in the middle.”
“You say that as if every story has a happy ending,” I said softly.
“True. But the alternative is far too serious for someone like me. I’m perfectly content clinging to my childish beliefs.” He smiled at me again, but this smile said there was far more to Laurelis Dondarte than I’d ever realized. That he’d lived an entire life before meeting me, and there were many parts of it he kept locked away.
“Why isn’t Betty speaking to you?” I asked abruptly. I wasn’t sure why I chose that moment to ask, or why the question popped into my head at all. Maybe it was the only topic change I could think of.
“Beg pardon?” Laurie said, giving me an innocent blink. I responded with a look that said, You heard me. Laurie sighed and turned his silver head back toward the sunset. “She grew tired of watching me fall in love with other people. I knew she loved me, and I did nothing to assuage her of that during our years together. Her love was useful to me, and use has always been what matters most.”
“Did your mother teach you that?” I asked, trying to hide the disdain I felt for Mab.
I knew I hadn’t been successful when Laurie’s mouth twitched. “She liked you, you know. She didn’t make it obvious, of course, but Mother never would’ve gone through the trouble of throwing that party if she’d found you annoying.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Laurie’s gaze shifted. His eyes flicked back to mine and he put a finger to his lips, then nodded at something behind me. I frowned, squinting as if that would help me see better. There was a rumbling in the distance. Thunder, maybe? But there were no clouds in the sky…
Then I spotted movement on the horizon. A long row of figures appeared, splashes of color in a world faded by winter. When I realized what I was looking at, I clutched the bark of the tree closest to me. Tendrils of hair blew into my face, but I didn’t brush them away.
Then they were thundering past. Clumps of earth flew from beneath their hooves. There was no need for Laurie to stress the importance of silence; it was obvious that these were wild creatures. They looked exactly like how I used to imagine the Mares of Diomedes, the man-eating horses from my mother’s grisly stories. Huge. Colorful. Strong. Their manes fluttered like sails and every single beast looked toward the horizon, as if nothing else existed for them.
My eyes met those of an enormous stallion, both in stature and in presence. Even in that briefest of moments, I saw the intelligence burning in its dark eyes. The smolder of arrogance and the brightness of something so wild, so untamable, that it may as well have been made of wind. And flew like wind it did, thundering past my hiding spot with Laurie, hundreds more following him into the pale horizon. I kept my eyes on it, long after the herd was gone, envious of such speed and grace.
“They were beautiful,” I murmured. At that moment, the world felt like a church, a sacred place that should be treaded through quietly. I turned back to the faerie prince standing near me.
“There’s a story about this herd.” Laurie’s hair stirred in a cold burst of wind. “My mother told me they used to be Fallen. Shapeshifters. They were so content as they were they forgot to change back.”
I couldn’t decide if I found the story tragic or happy—perhaps a little bit of both, like all good stories. Another gust of wind hit us, then, and my nostrils flared in a deep, exalted inhale. My mind was the clearest it had been in days, and the bone-deep weariness had become more bearable.
I opened my eyes and stared up at Laurie, knowing he’d brought me out here for this feeling. This clarity. My heart sank as I recognized a flutter in my belly. It was the same flutter I’d gotten around Collith, especially toward the end of our short-lived romance.
“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t do this.”
Laurie’s brow lowered, and his eyes snapped to mine. “Do what?”
“Make me fall in love with you.” As soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back. Saying the truth out loud made it even more terrifying. In an attempt to fight the pull between us, I forced a smile and added, “I don’t think I’d survive it.”
Laurie’s gaze shone with frozen heat. There was no trace of humor in his countenance. “To be clear, I fully intend to do exactly that,” he informed me. “But don’t mistake me for Collith, my queen.”
My confusion was genuine, and I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“I am not kind. I am not gentle. I am not human nor do I pretend to be. I kill when I want to.” Laurie gave me a faint grin, but it lacked the usual teasing. “Just so we’re on the same page.”
Suddenly my mouth felt too dry. I swallowed, hoping he hadn’t heard it, and mentally ran through a list of possible responses. Most of them ended in shoving Laurie against a tree and ripping his suit off. I reminded myself, over and over, that those scenarios would only complicate my disastrous life. “Got it. Same page,” was all I could think to say.
Why was it, whenever I was around Laurelis Dondarte, part of me wanted to run while the other part always lingered?
A second passed, then two. “We still need to talk about how to free my demon-possessed brother,” Laurie said, his voice back to normal now.
I knew he was changing the subject for my sake. Even though I hated myself for letting him, I cleared my throat and said, disguising my relief, “Yeah. But Savannah still hasn’t found a spell she can do. There was one passed down in her friend’s line, I guess, but two of the ingredients for it no longer exist. So we still can’t do anything except wait.”
Frustration seeped into my voice. What was the point of having so much power when I couldn’t use it for good? When it was ineffective at a time I needed it most? I’d told Finn we were a pack. It was a promise, and yet here I was, breaking it like I had so many others. Because there was an easy solution to our problem. The agony of the past three days could’ve been prevented, if I were as reckless as I used to be.
“Tell me you haven’t considered it,” Laurie said, startling me. His gaze bored into mine again. “Tell me you’re not actually thinking about Belanor’s deal.”
How did he always know what I was thinking? I looked out at the horizon one more time, committing this place to memory. “I can’t,” I said truthfully. “I have considered it. If I knew what the cost would be, and it didn’t harm anyone else, I would’ve accepted his offer on the spot. But death follows Belanor everywhere he goes. Odds are that letting him finish the spell would be catastrophic.”
Laurie paused. “I agree,” he said, failing to hide the undercurrent of relief in his voice.
Our conversation felt finished, but neither of us moved. Now that I remembered what it was like to feel alive, I wasn’t ready to go back to that basement. In the silence, I thought of my broken promises again.
There’s one I could keep, I thought suddenly. One person I hadn’t let down, not yet.
I refocused on Laurie, who gazed back at me with a casual stance, as if he had all the time in the world. “Will you go somewhere with me?”
He answered without hesitation. “Anywhere.”
“You wouldn’t be back at Court until tonight, probably.”
Laurie placed my hand in the crook of his elbow and tugged me into movement. He didn’t bother to acknowledge my warning. “Where are we off to, my queen?”
As I considered the best way to answer, I remembered the distant sheen in Gil’s eyes that day we drank screwdrivers on Adam’s kitchen floor. I heard the broken shame in his voice as he asked, Will you do me a favor? My heart cracked a little more at the thought of what I was about to do, but I’d made a promise, and it felt important that I keep one. Just one.
Laurie was still waiting for my answer.
“We’re going to London,” I said.
* * *
England was gray and wet.
Luckily, the shop I put into Google Maps wasn’t far from the Door we’d stepped out of. Laurie and I strolled through the streets as if we were here every day. The pavement gleamed with ice and humans hurried by, most of them putting their heads down against the cold.
I spotted it first, a narrow door on our left covered in faded blue paint. A wooden sign hung over it that simply read, Tattoo.
“Shit. They’re closed,” I said, noting the darkened room through a wide window. Just to be thorough, I tried the door handle. It was locked, of course.
Laurie blinked out of sight, then reappeared inside the shop. He turned the deadbolt—I heard it click—and opened the door for me. “Welcome to my shop,” he said with a brilliant smile. “What kind of tattoo would you like today? The face of the previous Seelie King, perhaps? I hear he has a face of legend.”
“Oh, he does,” I replied, brushing past. “The legend of Hephaestus, to be more specific. It’s said that he was so ugly his own mother pitched him off the highest mountain in Greece.”
Laurie released a long-suffering sigh. Ignoring him, I looked around the place where Gil had spent so much of his time. There were framed images on the brick walls, tattoos that assumably had been done here. The lines were crisp and the coloring solid. Modern light fixtures dangled from the high ceiling. The furniture in the waiting room had a shabby chic look, and the floor was covered in Persian rugs. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but this place fit, I thought. It felt like Gil.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?”
I jumped at the deep, unfamiliar voice that sliced into the quiet. Turning, I jumped again at the sight of a man standing in one of the doorways. He had to be Nicky. Curiosity blazed through me, and I studied Gil’s best friend. He did the same, his sharp eyes bouncing between me and Laurie.
Like most of the people I’d met lately, Nicky was easy on the eyes. He wore a gray newsboy cap, and the brim cast a shadow over his high cheekbones and flawless dark skin, evident even from across the room. A silver hoop curved around one of his nostrils. He wasn’t a Nightmare, but he wasn’t human. His eyes didn’t give anything away—they were an ordinary brown—yet I could sense power around him like an invisible curtain.
That was a detail Gil left out of his little story, I thought, making a mental note to call him later. I hadn’t spoken to the vampire since Finn had collapsed. Did he even know what was going on? What if Belanor had gone after him and Adam? I hadn’t gotten a text from them in a while…
“Are you Nicholas?” I asked, pushing the torrent of worried questions away. Now was not the time.
Nicky’s frown deepened. “Yeah, I am. Look, if you want to make an appointment, you need to call during—”
“I have some news. About Gil,” I added.
My tone was the giveaway, though I didn’t mean it to be. The news is bad, it said. Nicky crossed his arms, then raised one of his hands to put it over his mouth, muffling his next words. “Say it.”
“He’s dead. I was there when it happened. We were…” I faltered, realizing that the truth could very well put this person in danger. But I didn’t want to lose momentum; I was treating this entire conversation like a Band Aid and ripping it off. “We were being held prisoner, because of what we are.”
I sensed Laurie’s surprise, somehow. His incredulity was justified; I’d taken a gamble, trusting this stranger with the knowledge of my species. But Nicky didn’t react. “It was the V, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” I didn’t flinch as I said it. In a way, it was the truth.
Slowly, Nicky sat down in the closest office chair. He stared through the window across from him, his jaw tight, his hand a fist on the desk. An uncomfortable silence fell. I glanced at Laurie over my shoulder.
What should we do? my expression asked.
Hell if I know, his said back.
“What do you want?” Nicky asked, refocusing on me. His throat moved as he swallowed. “For your mark. I can do it.”
I shook my head with a baffled frown. “Mark?”
Nicky made an abrupt gesture with his hand. “Yes, the mark. Gil told me about the custom amongst your kind. I still have some of the ink we used on his last one.”
Curiosity got the better of me again. “What did he tell you?”
“He said that if a Nightmare is killed, the one who bears witness to their death gets a mark. To remember. To remind. To carry on the legacy. The ink is bespelled, making it so only other Nightmares can see it.” Nicky paused again, and I thought of the tattoos covering Gil’s arms. “Once, he mentioned the mark wasn’t always a tattoo. Sometimes it was a keloid or a brand.”
As he waited for my answer, and I actually considered it, I wondered if my parents had gotten any tattoos. I couldn’t recall ever seeing one. If this really was a tradition of our people, they’d never told me about it.
Thinking of them brought back some of the pain I thought I’d left on that sun-dappled hilltop. The truth was, I had witnessed the death of a Nightmare. Several, in fact. I liked the thought of etching their memories on my skin. Acknowledging and claiming my pain, then turning it into something else.
“Look,” I said, hesitating, “I would like to get a mark, yes, but you just got some really painful news. I don’t expect you to—”
Nicky was already shaking his head. “It would be a good distraction. Honestly, you’d probably be doing me a favor; I won’t be sleeping tonight anyway. The studio is back here. Please come on in. Don’t think I ever caught your names, by the way. You can call me Nicky.”
He moved to open one of the other doors, and I turned to Laurie. I’d already pulled out my phone, knowing that I’d need to talk to Lyari or Savannah if I was going to do this. “It’s probably going to take a while. Hours,” I told him.
Laurie shrugged. “Fortunately, I brought something to pass the time.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he held up a book. The earmarked copy of Moby Dick looked identical to the one I had at home. “Have you been in my room again?” I asked wearily.
Laurie just winked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Lyari was waiting on the front porch when we returned.
Her gaze flicked to Laurie, noting his presence. I could sense the distrust rolling off her in waves before she refocused on me. Even now, she didn’t like him.
“Has there been word from Savannah? Did she find a spell?” I asked straightaway, too impatient for greetings or small talk. My phone had died during our time in England, and I hadn’t been able to get any updates. Lyari didn’t answer—all her attention was on the bandage on my arm now. Her fae senses could probably detect the scent of my blood. I made a dismissive gesture. “It’s just a new tattoo.”
Her eyes lingered on it, as if she was deciding whether or not to believe me. It had taken eight hours. One of the longest sessions Nicky had ever done, he told me at one point during the night. My new quarter sleeve would take two weeks to heal. At least, two weeks for a human. Now that I was a Nightmare again, I would heal slightly faster. A small bag dangled from my hand, containing an expensive bottle of moisturizer I’d bought at the shop. I’d also spent two thousand dollars on the tattoo itself—and that was after the supposed discount Nicky had given me.
He’d called the style blackwork—tattoos that were made using solely black ink and empty space. Curved around part of my arm, there was the tree from Oliver’s dreamscape, each of its branches representing a member of my family. A wolf fit into the tree like a puzzle piece. Next to this, there was a dragon. I had born witness to the Leviathan’s death, as well, and it felt right that someone would remember the wild creature it had truly been. For Gil, and the loss of his life as a Nightmare, I’d borrowed the rose on his shoulder. It all came together like some overgrown, beautifully eerie garden. Like a fairy tale written out on my skin.
“She hasn’t found one.” I didn’t phrase it like a question. My voice was flat, devoid of hope, as if it were draining out of me with each passing second Lyari kept looking at me like that.
“He’s dying, Your Majesty,” Lyari said.
“I know he’s dying,” I snarled. Instant regret took hold of me, and I spun away—I didn’t want an audience as I fought for control. I could feel that dark force rising again, the same one that had driven me to kill dozens of people at that black market. The same darkness Gwyn had seen.
After a moment, I walked back to them, my boots making hollow sounds against the wooden boards. I lifted my head and met Lyari’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t react, but her voice softened in a way I’d never heard it do before. “During one of his lucid periods, the wolf requested the dignity of a swift death, Fortuna.”
It was her use of my name that made me pause. I knew Finn was suffering, damn it; I’d been watching him fight the demon for three days. If he’d asked Lyari to kill him, it meant he was losing. We were no closer to finding a real exorcism spell, and with every hour that passed, Finn was in agony. Did I have the right to make this decision for him? What would I want, if I were in his position?
I didn’t like the answers.
“Fine.” My voice was strangled. I gripped the plastic bag so tightly that I felt the sting of my fingernails. “Just… give me a minute.”
Laurie finally spoke. “I can do it, Fortuna. I’ll be kind to your wolf. He won’t feel a thing.”
I didn’t meet his gaze. I knew that if I did, he would see the terror in my eyes. He could probably smell it anyway. Fucking faeries. “No one but me is going to touch Finn,” I said.
“Firecracker…” There was a gentle note in Laurie’s voice.
“The witch is on guard duty alone. I shall go check on her,” Lyari announced. Before either of us could respond, she bowed and went inside. The screen door slammed into the stillness.
