Chapter 13 Eryx
Eryx
As soon as Chelsea charges off, a cold feeling settles into my bones.
Nightmare?
Yes?
What is that?
That is how we feel when she walks away. I think it’s like that song, “Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone.”
I nearly roll my eyes. Be serious.
I am serious.
And it feels like Nightmare might be, because in all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never experienced this—pinpricks of ice tapping into me, the sense of losing something I almost had.
God, Eryx. You sound as pitiful as Nightmare. Get ahold of yourself.
Before there’s time to investigate this unsettling feeling, I’m surrounded by guests—wizards and werewolves who want to introduce themselves and witches who’d like to dance.
I wasn’t lying earlier when I told Chelsea I hate crowds. But instead of focusing on that, I take my time greeting guests and answering questions about the Nightmare District.
“Are there monsters that will devour us?”
“Monsters, no. Citizens, maybe.”
“Is it always so dark?”
“Only on a good day.”
“Is it true you can curse us with nightmares?”
“Now why would I do th—”
That’s when it hits me. Nightmare’s constant presence, the feeling of being gripped around the neck by a fist, has suddenly vanished.
Nightmare?
The only reply is silence.
“Excuse me,” I tell the crowd, weaving my way to the back of the ballroom and out the doors.
Nightmare! Answer me!
My stomach drops as I race through the manor. “Excuse me…pardon me… Has anyone seen…?”
Seen what? Nightmare magic? Something that’s supposed to be latched to my very blood, but is now either not answering or has left me?
As I dart down the halls, threading my way through wizards and witches who eye me curiously, I poke around inside myself, searching for its cold presence. Looking, until—
An explosion of power makes me stumble back. I clutch the wall to steady myself, my vision blurring at the edges. The only way to hang on is to bend over, breathe.
I suck down a staggered breath and exhale. I’m shaking. My hands. My knees. My legs.
What in the hell just happened?
Power the likes of which I’ve never experienced gushes into my bloodstream. It’s powerful, familiar. Feminine.
Oh shit.
Nightmare!
One of my men, Stave, approaches. “Sir.”
He reaches for me, but I lift a trembling hand. “Where is she?” I grind out.
“Who?”
“The woman. The one I danced with. Chelsea.”
“The north balcony.”
I race past him, back through the crowd, pushing and darting, threading and weaving. The music plays on, the melody light, romantic.
I curl one of my hands into a fist. Nightmare, what have you done?
Seconds later I burst through the doors and find two witches staring at…roses…dozens of black and gold roses lining the brick floor, crawling up the exterior wall.
I rock back on my heels. Nightmare. Are you here? What were you doing?
Since it hasn’t answered me every other time I called, it surprises me when a quiet, sly voice replies, I’ve been seeing what we can do.
A chill runs through me. Nightmare's voice sounds…different. Distant. Like it's not fully inside me anymore.
I didn't leave, it corrects, listening to my inner thoughts. I reached out. There's a difference.
What are you talking about? You reached out to her?
To her, and we can do so many, many things. Don’t you want to learn?
No, I reply.
That was what I felt. It was her—Chelsea's magic—flooding through the bond Nightmare created when it touched her.
Nightmare didn't just reach out to her. It connected us. Started forming a bond without my permission.
“Sorry, ladies, I’m closing this balcony.”
They duck their heads and step back inside. I shut the doors behind them and exhale hard, slumping onto the railing.
And this is when I realize I’ve got a bigger problem on my hands than I thought. It isn’t simply that Nightmare changes around her.
It’s that now, Nightmare has become uncontrollable.
What fresh hell is waiting for me next?
I drop my hands on the railing and dig my fingers into the stone. You crossed a line. You touched her without permission. You’ve never…you’ve never done that before, I grind out.
I know.
Where is she now?
She left.
I swallow hard. She left? Because you scared the hell out of her.
I didn’t mean to, it says, sounding sheepish.
Well you did. Now she’ll never talk to me again.
I can find her.
No! I straighten, drag my fingers through my hair. No, I reply more calmly. You don’t need to look for her. We’ll find her together.
I drop to one knee and pluck a gold rose from the stone and inhale deeply. It smells like her—vanilla and floral.
Do you think she’ll taste as good as she smells?
Stop it, Nightmare.
Stop what? Do you want me to go back to how I was?
Is that a trick question?
You don’t, and I know it. No, we need her. If you don’t find her, I will.
The wall of roses suddenly looks like a blanket ready to smother me.
I can’t go back to the way we were, and if you don’t find her, I’ll find her on my own.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Nightmare will unbind itself? It will go off on its own? First, there’s no way to know what that will do to me, and secondly, he’ll scare her to death—scar her.
Or worse—it'll bond with her completely and leave me behind. Take the one thing that's made me feel alive in ten years and keep her for itself, leaving me with nothing.
The thought makes my chest hollow out.
If word spreads to the people of Castleview that Nightmare exists and it’s able to move without me, I’ll have a war on my hands.
I smile, but there's no humor in it. Nightmare, that won't be necessary. You won't have to go searching for her.
A prickle of intrigue runs down my neck. And why not?
Because I'm going to do what I should have done the moment I saw her in that bush. I'm going to choose her. Not for you. For me.
I toss open the balcony doors. Warm air runs over my skin. Guests turn and look, nodding, curious about the Nightmare King.
After I’m done, they won’t be curious anymore.