Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Iyank Tia to the ground and am frantically searching for something to use as a weapon when I realize that Onyx Eyes wasn’t aiming for us—he was nailing the disgusting creature with the peeling skin and pustule-covered face that now has a knife through his third eye.
I flinch when a leathery hand appears in front of my face. A hand belonging to Onyx Eyes.
I scramble to my feet, ignoring his offered hand as I move to Tia. She’s standing now too, and I step in front of her, pushing us both back into the shadows.
“Cora Lyte,” he says, his voice low and refined, the accent almost—but not quite—British. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Who the hell are you?”
He tilts his head, and I see tufts of white hair sticking out from under a black skullcap. He doesn’t reply. Just studies me with those unsettling eyes. “Someone who understands what you are. What you’re becoming.”
“I’m not becoming anything,” I say, as he moves to the monster, now a pile of disgusting flesh, and yanks out the knife.
The moment he does, light bursts from the wound, and the entire creature seems to be sucked in upon itself until all that’s left is the brightest light I’ve ever seen—and then absolutely nothing at all.
“We’re going,” I say, yanking at a trembling, pale Tia, who stumbles into step beside me, whispering, “Oh, god, oh god, oh, god, what the hell was that thing?”
“Hell sounds about right,” I murmur, my mind spinning too fast to land on answers. All I want is to get back to our dorm.
I steer us toward the Science Center doors, figuring we can cut through the well-lit building.
But I freeze when another movement catches my eye—a second figure detaching from the deeper shadows beneath an ancient oak.
As it steps into a shaft of moonlight, my blood turns to ice.
It’s human-shaped, yet wrong. Too tall and too thin, with limbs that bend at impossible angles. And its face…
Oh, god. Its face.
A blank oval of pale flesh, entirely featureless except for a wide slash of a mouth filled with needle-like teeth.
It leaps like a circus gymnast, landing in front of me and grabbing my arm.
Tia screams as I wrench my arm free, then tug us both backward, my own scream trapped somewhere in my throat.
As we stumble, Onyx Eyes whirls toward the creature, his coat flaring.
“Vexarin,” he snarls, holding that same silver blade. “You dare hunt here?”
“Run,” I breathe to Tia, the word catching in my throat even as I wonder who—or what—is Vexarin.
We turn and run back toward Whitehall, just trying to get the hell away, but the creature—Vexarin—moves with inhuman speed to block our path. Up close, it’s even more terrifying—its skin gleaming with an oily sheen, its body twitching with barely contained energy.
“Holy shit! Holy freaking shit!” Tia’s voice is high with fear, her nails digging into my arm as we come to a dead stop.
The creature cocks its head, that terrible mouth stretching into a parody of a smile. When it speaks, the sound is like stones grinding together.
“Bride,” it rasps, reaching one elongated hand toward me. “He waits for you.”
Bride. That’s what Adric had called me too.
But I don’t have time to ponder as I lurch sideways, grabbing a decorative garden stake from a nearby planter. It’s a flimsy weapon, but better than nothing.
The creature laughs—a horrible, scraping sound. “That is no weapon against me, and the Hunter cannot protect you forever. King Adric will claim what is his.”
This thing works for Adric?
The horror of that reality knocks me off kilter just as the creature lunges forward, impossibly fast. I swing the stake, but it passes through the creature as if through smoke. Tia screams, yanking me backward as those clawed fingers rip open my shoulder, making me cry out in agony.
Through a red haze of pain, I see Tia raise her free hand, her lips moving, though I can barely make out a whisper. She’s probably saying a prayer to be rid of me.
For one odd second, it seems like her fingers glow, but then the illusion fades and she snaps out with, “Dammit!”
I have no freaking idea what she’s doing or what Vexarin is, but I grab her sleeve and tug her toward me as Onyx Eyes leaps forward, pushing us behind him before he lunges toward the monster. His blade flashes in the moonlight, but before he can strike, another figure materializes from the shadows.
Chase. Only now he’s moving with the same inhuman speed as the creature.
What the hell is going on?
“Whistler, get them back!” Chase shouts, his own blade appearing in his hand as if summoned from thin air. Just as he’s done in my dreams.
It’s true—oh, god, I was right! It’s true!
I, however, have no time to process that fun fact because Onyx Eyes—Whistler, I assume—is shoving me and Tia away from Chase and the monster.
“Vexarin,” Chase snarls, his voice deeper now, and achingly familiar. “You’re far from home.”
I watch over Whistler’s shoulder as the creature hisses, recoiling from Chase’s blade. “Hunter,” Vexarin sneers. “Always interfering.”
“It’s what I do.” Chase shifts his stance, the blade moving in a complex pattern that leaves trails of light in its wake. “Now crawl back to your own realm before I send you there in pieces.”
For a tense moment, the creature seems to consider its options. Then it smiles again, that terrible mouth stretching wider than should be possible.
“Soon,” it promises, shifting to fix its empty gaze on me. “Soon you will be his.”
With those words still hanging in the air, the creature melts into the shadows, leaving no trace of its presence except the lingering cold on my shoulder and the painful pounding of my heart against my ribs.
Chase turns to us, his golden eyes burning with an eerie light.
Whistler sheathes his blade and studies me. “It’s true, then? She is the Bride?”
“I keep hearing that,” I say. “But I’m not anybody’s damn bride. So what the hell is going on?”
Chase and Whistler exchange a glance.
“Dammit, just tell me.”
“You are the last of the bloodline,” Whistler says, which is no answer at all. “The Nightmare King will do whatever he must in order to claim you. To free himself from the castle and its grounds. And to bring down the barriers.”
“Oh,” I say, shifting to look at Chase. “I have no idea what any of that means.” And that’s true. But at the same time, I can’t help but think of a pair of hypnotic, silver eyes, that voice as smooth as honey whispering that I was his, and a kiss that stole all reason.
But a kiss isn’t a vow, no matter how delicious. And even though Adric had done quite a number on my girly parts, I’m not his or anyone’s bride.
“Wait,” I say. “He’s not bound to his castle. He’s come into my dreams, and I’m here in St. Augustine.”
“You are,” Chase says, “but he’s not coming to you, Cora. He’s drawing your dream-self to him.”
“Oh,” I say, then hug myself to stifle a shiver despite the heavy warmth of the night. I can feel Tia’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at her.
What have I dragged her into? Brides and monsters and nightmares that are as real as this world. Realms. Just like Vance had said. And a Nightmare King who pulls me into his.
It’s all true. It’s all horribly, confusingly, hopelessly true.
“Are you hurt?” Chase asks, which under the circumstances seems like such a mundane question that I can’t help but laugh. “Cora,” he repeats, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
I touch my shoulder, then wince. When I pull my fingers back, I see the blood. And, of course, it starts to hurt even more.
“We’ll get you cleaned up,” he says, the words as soft as a caress. “Until then, keep pressure on it.” He nods to Whistler, who rummages in his pockets and pulls out what I hope is a clean handkerchief.
I take it, then press it to my shoulder. It still stings, but the pressure helps.
I turn to look at Tia again. Now, I feel nauseous thinking about what might have happened if Chase and Whistler hadn’t been around. “I’m sorry.” The words come out softer than a whisper, but I know she heard me from the way her expression changes.
“For what?”
“Um, this. I mean, that monster attacked us because of me.”
“Wow,” she says. “I didn’t realize you thought I was so lame.”
“What? No. I—”
I snap my mouth shut when she rushes over, grabs my hand, then forces her pinkie around mine. “Would you bail on me if I suddenly went all witchy?”
“No.”
“I’m not bailing on you, either, dummy.” She shoots a look toward Chase. “I’m thinking now she got in because of her uncle and not her smarts.”
“Hey!” I shout, but it’s only in mock protest, and I happily accept her arms around me with the order to hug it out.
When we pull apart, I see both Chase and Whistler looking at us with expressions that seem one part amused and nine parts baffled.
“What?” I ask, then repeat the question when the men look at each other again.
“It’s a girl thing,” Tia tells them. The adds in an overly casual tone, “You want to tell us what attacked us?”
Chase pinches the bridge of his nose, and I get the feeling he’d rather do anything other than answer the question.
“Chase,” I press. “It’s time.”
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But then he nods—just a simple tip of his head—and says, “Vexarin is a mare.”
“A female horse?” Tia asks. “That freaky-looking thing?”
“As in nightmare,” he corrects. “And a powerful one. Most can’t cross over so completely.”
Tia looks at me, her expression one of utter confusion. “Cross over from where?” she asks, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her hands.
“From the Nightmare Realm,” I whisper before Chase can answer. “Just like what Vance said in that room.” I look up at Chase. “That’s where I go in my dreams,” I say. “That’s where you’ve been protecting me.”
“Yes,” he says, and I feel my whole body relax as that one simple word explains so much.
“So what are you?” I ask, unable to stop now that he’s finally talking. My gaze shifts to Whistler. “What are both of you?”