Beautiful nightmares, p.74
Beautiful Nightmares, page 74
“Would you mind waiting outside again?” I asked, staring at the house. If Jacob Goldmann was already in a state of constant anxiety, bringing a werewolf to his door didn’t seem like a good idea.
Finn sat down in silent agreement. I knew he’d be inside within seconds if I needed him. I focused on the front door and let out a short, ragged breath. Why was I so nervous? If there was someone living here, the house looked ordinary enough. Then again, I knew better than anyone how deceiving appearances could be.
Oh, gee, maybe your anxiety has something to do with the fact you tracked down a total stranger, that inner voice pointed out. She was really starting to piss me off. I approached the door, and with each step, a quake went through me. The old Fortuna wouldn’t have been so afraid, and I had Belanor to thank for this new caution. He may have been dead, but my memories of him were as permanent as the scar on my back. What if this entire venture was one of Dracula’s tricks?
But I couldn’t walk away now. I’d come too far. Thinking of everything that was at stake—learning more about my abilities as a Nightmare could teach me how to control them, to harness them well enough to bring Oliver over into reality—I forced myself to raise a fist and knock.
A minute passed, and no one came. A car drove down the street. Somewhere overhead, a crow’s harsh, raucous call echoed through the air. Hesitantly, I knocked again, louder now. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
This time, footsteps creaked on the other side. Ten more seconds ticked by, as if the owner of this house was hoping I’d give up and leave. I didn’t budge. When the door opened, the sound the hinges made had the cadence of a sigh. I lifted my head, preparing to blurt the awkward explanation I’d come up with during the walk here.
When I saw who was standing in front of me, though, my jaw slackened. Whatever I was about to say just… faded.
I knew him.
He’d been in one of the memories I’d found in the dreamscape. The man who’d opened that red door and whose wife had helped to put a binding spell on me as a child. He was older now, much older, with deep lines across his forehead and around his mouth, his hair gone gray at the edges. But it was him.
He recognized me, too—terror filled the space between us.
My instincts stirred, drawn to it like a beast to its prey. I resisted the hunt by picturing them. My anchors, the faces of people I loved. I regained control within moments. Or most of it, at least. I managed to form a coherent string of baffled thoughts. Was this an extraordinary coincidence? Or had Dracula known, somehow, that Jacob Goldmann and I met each other in another life?
“My name is Fortuna,” I said when the silence became a beat too long. “I got your information from… someone who thought you could help me.”
Other questions battered at my control, and only caution kept me from saying them out loud. Why are you so frightened? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why did Dracula lead me to you?
Oblivious to the hornet’s nest buzzing within my skull, Jacob glanced up and down the street. There was nothing welcoming in his tone as he replied, “I think I know which friend you’re referring to. Would you like to come in? I just made a pot of fresh coffee.”
“Sure. Thank you.” I stepped over the threshold, trying to hide my trepidation, and Jacob immediately closed the door behind me. Rigid with nerves, I tried to note every detail as the man stepped around me. My unease worsened when I quickly discovered there weren’t many details to find. There was a closet to my right, and coat hooks across from it. Both were empty. There were also no framed pictures hanging up or immediate scents in the air.
“Should I take my shoes off?” I asked. My mind was still spinning.
Jacob continued down the hall. Without looking back he said, “No need.”
I moved to follow him, and in doing so, I passed an arched doorway. Light poured through it and spilled across my tennis shoes. A mezuzah hung on that slender piece of wall between hallway and living room. Besides this, there was still nothing else in sight to reveal who Jacob Goldmann was. Everything in front of me was nondescript—the brown furniture, the unadorned wooden floors, the white walls. It was as though he was a visitor to his own life.
I didn’t need to ask whether Tamar was here. From the looks of this house, she’d either left him or she was dead.
Refocusing, I turned and walked toward the doorway that obviously led to the kitchen. But when I reached it, there was no sign of Jacob. Frowning, I went right. A cluster of doors stood at the end of another short hallway, two of them open. I peered into each room. The first was a bedroom. The second was a bathroom.
Jacob was in that one, his body halfway out a window.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded. I reacted instinctively. Rushing over, I yanked at the back of Jacob’s wool sweater in an effort to pull him down. The loose material only stretched, exposing a long expanse of skin, and suddenly I found myself staring at marks on Jacob’s flesh. Marks I recognized instantly. It was a brand.
The same one that I wore on my own back.
* * *
In that instant, I became aware of two facts about Jacob Goldmann.
The first was that Jacob had met Belanor.
The second fact was what made my heart feel like an avalanche. Because there was only one reason Belanor would put that symbol on him. I’d been tortured because of it. Gil had lost his life for it. Belanor needed one final ingredient to complete the spell he was so obsessed with.
“You’re a Nightmare,” I breathed.
“The binding spell is gone,” Jacob said back with equal astonishment. I watched the surprise in his eyes give way to horror.
How did he know that? Frowning, my eyes went to the neckline of his sweater. It was lopsided and stretched. I realized what must’ve happened—when I’d pulled it down, my knuckles had brushed against Jacob’s bare skin. However well-guarded I thought I was, he’d gotten a read on me.
Using my distraction to his advantage, Jacob shoved past and rushed down the hallway. I recovered quickly and followed him, pausing on the threshold of the bedroom he’d gone into. A single look told me it was exactly like the rest of the house—colorless and barren. Jacob slid a door open, revealing a closet, and he bent to retrieve something.
“How did you escape Belanor?” I asked bluntly.
At the sound of that name, the other Nightmare faltered. With his back to me, my gaze returned to that brand. It was out of sight, hidden beneath his sweater again. I could still see it, though, imprinted on my mind as permanently as the one on my shoulder.
Then Jacob straightened, seeming to reach some inner decision.
“You have to go.” He stood and threw a suitcase on the bed. It looked like an antique from the 20s with its hard sides and striped tweed. Jacob yanked dresser drawers open and started shoving clothes into it. Apparently, now that I’d caught him, he’d decided there was enough time to pack before he undoubtedly fled again.
“Fine, yes, I’ll go,” I told him, a frantic edge in my voice. “I just want to know who’s doing this. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Maybe it’ll help my chances of survival.”
Jacob kept packing. “Only way to survive is run.”
I watched him with clenched fists, fighting the childish urge to yank every piece of clothing out of that suitcase. What did all of this mean, exactly? How much did Jacob know about Belanor’s master? Was it just a coincidence that our paths had crossed when I was a child?
Suddenly the ferry was beneath my feet and I saw that red door again, coming toward us in the cold night. I heard my father’s voice, half-pleading, as mine was now. There has to be a way to stop it. Here you are, standing in front of us.
It felt like a flare brightened in my head and released a hiss of sparks. I sucked in a breath, rapidly filling in more parts of the story as bursts of comprehension went off.
I’d never understood what Dad had meant by that last part. I thought the words were directed at Tamar, the witch, but Matthew Sworn had been talking to Jacob, the Nightmare. Her power grows by the day, he’d told them. That night, I had sensed his fear and misunderstood the cause of it.
My parents hadn’t been scared of me. They’d been scared for me.
I didn’t believe in coincidences, and there were too many happening here. I could finally see the truth. The mysterious figure that had been after me as a child and the one now controlling Belanor—they were one and the same. He’d gotten his mark on Jacob, but failed at finishing the spell on him.
Then I’d come along.
My parents had known there was someone searching for our kind. Searching for a Nightmare powerful enough to survive dark magic. Somehow, Dad had also learned that another Nightmare escaped. He’d found Jacob Goldmann and his wife and asked for their help.
The binding spell had been their solution. It was probably how Jacob escaped his fate and also how he’d remained hidden so many years from hunters, magic, and every other thing that went bump in the night.
Then I remembered Tamar’s response to my dad, and I knew I was right. The spell is painful for the one it’s being performed on. Not only that, but being bound in magic that dark changes you. He can attest to it better than anyone.
She’d looked at Jacob, a hint of guilt in her eyes.
All of this went through my head within seconds. Jacob was nearly finished packing now, every piece of clothing pulled off its hanger or removed from the chests. No wonder he was so consumed by fear—just as mine had been, his abilities were restrained and tucked away. He was a sitting duck to anyone that came after him, much less Belanor.
“Tell me who’s after us,” I demanded, instinctively glancing toward every window. The world looked calm. Nothing peered back through the glass. “What does the brand mean?”
Jacob shoved the suitcase clasps into place with his thumbs and picked it up by its long handle. I didn’t move out of his way, but he darted around me, speaking frantically as he went. “It’s his mark. It’s the key. He just needs to find a Nightmare strong enough to withstand the spell. Your power is like a fucking beacon—you’ve probably led him right to me. Now I understand why your father was so desperate.”
Another thread fit into place, lending the image more clarity. If power was like a beacon to the person that was after us, no wonder my parents had gone into such a panic after I made that tree appear.
A hard, tight knot that had been living in my chest since seeing that memory began to loosen. They weren’t scared of me, I thought again. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. The memory of my parents was beautifully, fully intact, and I’d probably need a few more reminders for that to really sink in.
“At least tell me what the spell is supposed to do,” I blurted, following Jacob down the hall again. “We have time. Whatever you think is coming, I can take it. I can protect you. Hunters aren’t—”
“You think our kind has been pushed to the brink of extinction because of hunters?” Snatching a hat off one of the hooks, Jacob uttered a short, panicked laugh. He jammed the hat on his head and removed his keys off a hook, too. They jangled and flashed in his hand as he turned.
“Enough with the dramatics,” I snapped. Jacob threw the front door open and rushed headlong into the afternoon. I ran after him. “Just stop for one goddamn second and tell me what’s going on!”
He unlocked the car manually and opened the back door to toss his suitcase in. I hovered next to him, standing on the paved driveway. I’d glimpsed Finn standing on the lawn, his posture stiff and alert, but I kept my focus on Jacob. I didn’t want to make an enemy of him, not when his cooperation was so important.
Just as he tried to close the driver’s side door, I rushed forward and grabbed the edge, stopping him.
“Please,” I begged, not giving a shit about my pride, for once. “Did you know that my parents died right after we went to you and Tamar? I was eight years old. My brother and I grew up with humans who knew nothing about our kind or the shadow world. There’s so much I don’t know. All I’m asking for is an hour of your time, please.”
I finally stopped rambling and waited for his response. My pulse thudded in my throat as I stood there, still holding the door in a white-knuckled grip. Jacob still wouldn’t look at me; he kept his gaze on the steering wheel. There was a long, long pause, and the longer it went, the more I began to hope. It felt like something inside of me was balancing on its tiptoes, holding its breath.
That hope came crashing down when Jacob said, his voice a shamed mumble, “Don’t fall asleep. Sometimes, he can reach you in your dreams.”
Then, displaying a speed I hadn’t known he was capable of, he yanked the door shut and locked it.
A mindless, panicked sound tore from my throat. I grabbed the handle, but it was too late. I resisted the urge to slam my fist into the side of the car. “Tell me who he is, goddamn you! Give me something!” I shouted through the glass.
“I’m sorry,” Jacob said, the words muffled. He averted his eyes, but not before I saw the guilt in them.
My control fractured. I was about to use my powers on Jacob when he slammed on the gas pedal, and the car lurched in reverse. I heard Finn snarl as I jumped back, barely managing to avoid getting my shoes driven over. I would’ve toppled over if Finn hadn’t reached me a moment later, his body more solid than a tree. He stopped my momentum and I caught my balance by holding onto his fur. Breathing hard, I watched Jacob Goldmann drive away. My mind was already recovering, trying to think of how we could find him again.
Nothing short of a location spell would work. But Jacob had been in hiding for at least two decades. Probably longer, depending on when Belanor’s master had first come for him. A location spell required an item of meaning from the person you were trying to find. That or a piece of their body.
I’d seen his house—Jacob had been living like someone who could leave at any time. I already knew I wouldn’t find anything that could be used for the spell. Not a hair, not a picture, not a book.
He was determined to stay alive, and he was good at it.
Despite the oppressive heat, the thought made me go cold with realization. Jacob Goldmann, and whatever answers he had, were gone forever. A familiar stinging sensation filled my eyes seconds before everything went hazy, as if I were glaring at the world through a sheet of wax paper. I didn’t know if they were tears of frustration or helplessness—both, probably.
As they spilled into the open, leaving wet trails on my cheeks, I gradually became aware of my surroundings again. I turned away from the end of the street where Jacob had disappeared and looked at the werewolf standing beside me. With those extraordinary senses of his, it was safe to assume that he’d heard everything, even from outside. Finn waited patiently for our next move. His eyes were bright, his body tense. Ready for battle, like the soldier he’d been forced to become.
I stared at his whiskered face, feeling inexplicably sad. We had so much life ahead of us, and there was more to living than the next fight. More than spending hours next to a window, yearning and hoping for a glimpse of the past. My fingers crept across my body, and I traced the edge of a tree branch. I thought of my parents again. They’d fought for me, killed for me, so that I could have that life.
The next fight could wait… for one night, at least.
“C’mon, wolf.” With the fingers that I’d just used to touch my tattoo, I reached down and buried them in Finn’s coat. Like magic, his warmth began to seep into me. It traveled through my hand, up my arm, and into my chest, thawing everything that Jacob Goldmann had frozen with his cowardice. I let out a sigh and said, “Let’s go home.”
Finn expressed his agreement with a huffing sound. Hearing it made me smile, but I didn’t remove my hand as we left the driveway. Once we got to the street, the two of us faced the horizon, a Nightmare and a werewolf, our bodies covered in scars and sunlight. I didn’t let myself look back at Jacob’s sad, empty house.
If we ever returned to Florida again, it would be too soon.
We’d only taken a few steps when something else occurred to me. A detail so small that most people would miss it entirely, but Belanor’s mysterious master wasn’t most people. There was another way he could potentially complete his spell, I realized with slow dread. Another Nightmare that might be powerful enough to endure it. Suddenly my mouth was dry, my heart racing, and I moved faster, thinking only of one name now. Finn heard it through our bond, and he began to run, too.
Matthew.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Dusk shone through the trees.
I deliberately kept my mind empty, because everything I’d just learned from Jacob Goldmann swirled on the other side of the emptiness, threatening to drive me to the brink of insanity again. The last time I felt like this, I had killed dozens of people. Stay calm, Fortuna. Stay contained. I chanted this to myself, over and over, hardly seeing the woods around us, barely hearing the snow crunch underfoot.
Finn didn’t leave my side once, even when a deer bolted across our path.
Every few yards, I checked to see if there was a signal. Every time there was none, guilt and fear howled around me like a cyclone. Why hadn’t I considered the danger to Matthew sooner? Why hadn’t he been my first thought the moment I’d learned Belanor had a master using him to kill Nightmares? Clouds of panicked breaths half-blinded me, but I pushed on.
As soon as the house come into view, I scanned the vehicles in the driveway to make sure my loved ones were home and safe. When I saw Damon’s car wasn’t there, I immediately pulled out my phone. This time there were five bars in the corner of the screen. I began typing with shaking fingers. Though the text was brief, I imagined urgency emanating from every word. We need to talk. I just got home. Where is Matthew?
I told myself it was irrational, my desperate need to see him right now. Unless my nephew was an anomaly, as I’d been, his abilities wouldn’t manifest until he reached puberty. If they manifested at all. We had time. He was safe. There was a possibility that Belanor’s master didn’t even know about Matthew.
