Beautiful nightmares, p.70
Beautiful Nightmares, page 70
“Help me?” Belanor restated. Now his expression held a little more than curiosity. “How? How did you save the host?”
His question sent my mind back to that morning. It had all started when Laurie and I started off toward the woods.
“I could never,” I told the faerie at my side, squeezing his arm. He smiled but said nothing. I knew he was waiting for me to go on. Laurie had a lot riding on the outcome of tonight, as well.
Sunlight streamed through the tree branches overhead. It warmed my skin as I told him where we were going. I also outlined the rest of my idea for how to defeat Belanor. Laurie asked a question now and then, his expression focused. When I was finished, he improved upon what I’d said with some suggestions of his own.
“This can work,” Laurie remarked a few minutes later.
His tone made my heart pound. “This can work,” I agreed.
After an hour or two, we arrived at a river. The river that my entire plan hinged upon. A crow swooped overhead, cawing loudly. Laurie hung back, as we’d agreed upon when I explained my plan to him. I knelt at the water’s edge and took slow, even breaths. The mud was frozen, mostly, but the cold still crept through my knee. Remembering what every second cost Finn, I stopped wasting time and cut the fleshy part of my hand with Dad’s knife. I clenched it into a shaking fist and sent drops of blood down the current. Once the bleeding slowed, I looked back at Laurie and gave him a thumb’s up, indicating that phase one was done.
We waited an hour. Laurie was starting to fidget when the kelpie arrived. The kelpie that I should have thought of days ago when Finn had first collapsed.
Its voice sounded in my head. Nightmare. Have you come to settle our debt? it asked me.
Laurie didn’t react, and I knew he couldn’t hear it. But he saw it—his eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach for his sword. I didn’t blame him. The creature emerging from the water was disconcerting, to say the least. There were fins where pointed ears would be on a horse, and it had a scaly hide instead of a lovely coat. Through strands of black hair, the creature’s eyes were white and unseeing. The rest of its body was dark as the Witching Hour.
Like the last time I’d interacted with this creature, its presence inside my skull was painful. “Yes. I need an exorcism spell,” I told it, flinching.
The kelpie went silent, and there was a slight pressure on the air. I felt the prickle of magic. Check your pocket, it said after an extended pause.
Could it really be this easy? Deafened by my rapid heartbeat, I moved to obey. My fingers slid along the edge of something small. I pulled it into the open and discovered that I held a delicate roll of paper. I unrolled it carefully. There was a column of faded writing, and the messy scrawl was nearly impossible to read. It looked like a page from a witch’s spellbook—even the edge was uneven, as if it had been torn free from its binding.
They are Words, the kelpie informed me. I see you recognize them.
I did recognize them, because some of the things on this paper matched the spell I’d found in Kindreth’s journal. The one I’d used to bind Gil to me. “What are Words?” I asked, frowning.
‘He spoke and they came to be,’ the kelpie quoted. At the beginning of everything, God created the dimensions with Words. Enochian is the language of angels. Words are the language of the entity that created all of this. If you want to know more, Nightmare, it will cost you. Our debt was settled with my delivery of the spell. Shall I continue?
Kelpies didn’t have eyebrows, but at that moment, I swore this one did. I fought a wave of dislike and answered, “No. That won’t be necessary. Will I need anything else for this spell?”
It snorted impatiently, releasing a cloud of breath from each wide nostril. You will need a witch, of course, and whatever ingredients the magic requires as a conduit. I suppose I should warn you the host’s body probably won’t endure the extraction, even if you do succeed, the kelpie added.
That wasn’t an option. I stood there, my jaw clenched as I considered a new possibility. “What if he could borrow someone else’s strength? Would that guarantee his survival?”
The kelpie’s voice filled with speculation. I suppose that could work. Magic is unpredictable.
I said nothing, and the creature began to retreat. Its massive hooves crushed ice and mud, and to my ears, the sound it made was like the crunch of a hundred bones.
“How many people have you killed?” I asked suddenly. The kelpie halted and turned its long head back to me. Its milky eyes latched onto my face as if it could actually see me.
Why would one count grains of sand on a beach? the creature questioned. That is how it would feel keeping count of my meals.
Hearing this, I felt my power coil around me. The kelpie continued toward the water, flicking its tail like a mocking wave.
“Fortuna,” Laurie said, a note of rare caution in his voice. He must’ve seen something in my posture that hinted at what I was thinking. I hesitated, and that single pause was long enough for the kelpie to slip away, vanishing beneath the black water. I watched the ripples disappear, too. Laurie’s voice reached me through the haze again.
“You have the spell. The werewolf is waiting. Let’s go,” he said. Telling myself he was right, I nodded and turned.
But as I walked away from the river, I wondered if the choice I’d just made would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I tucked the memory away as Finn stepped out of the darkness and stopped at my side.
The brand-new bond between us flared, reacting to our proximity—the bond we’d forged to save Finn’s life once the demon had been ripped out. Even now, hours later, thinking about the exorcism made me wince. Savannah’s chants and the demon’s screams still echoed in my ears.
It had taken us hours to extract that parasite from Finn’s body.
After speaking to the kelpie, Laurie and I immediately returned home. Savannah went out to fetch the ingredients for the spell I gave her. Once she returned, all of us formed a circle around Finn—me, Laurie, Savannah, Collith, and Lyari. Savannah drew the werewolf’s blood and began to recite the Words.
His big frame jerked like he was being electrified. The lights flickered like they would in a horror movie. A line of foam filled Finn’s mouth. Twice, I almost told Savannah she should stop, just for a few seconds to let Finn breathe. But the necromancer had warned us that once she started the spell, she couldn’t break the chant or we’d have to go back to the beginning.
Her voice went on and on. The demon’s scream pierced my ears and the wind shoved at me. I fought to stay focused on Finn. This was taking too long. The demon would destroy Finn’s body on its way out, leaving my friend’s soul with nowhere to go but the afterlife.
Not an option, I thought again.
She needed more power.
Rushing over to Savannah, I peered over her shoulder and added my voice to hers. I saw her twitch in surprise, and I realized she hadn’t known I could do magic. That conversation would have to wait. I kept my eyes on the Words; they were easier to interpret with Savannah saying them a split second before I did.
We’d only been chanting for a few seconds when the demonic scream cut short. Moving so fast that my eyes couldn’t follow, Finn flew upright. Though I faltered, Savannah was relentless, and she was the reason I was able to continue. We’d barely said more than seven Words when Finn’s stomach lurched, and then a black, tar-like substance expelled from his mouth and splattered across the floor. Still we chanted.
Once he’d gotten all of the revolting liquid out, Finn sat there for a moment, staring at me. After another moment, he tipped face-first onto the concrete. He didn’t get back up. He didn’t stir at all, in fact.
Savannah finally fell silent.
Following her lead, I trailed off, too. I stared at Finn and waited, but he just drowned in a pool of his own blood.
“Is he breathing?” I asked, glancing desperately toward the faeries in the room.
My gaze happened to skim over Collith at the same moment he looked up. Our gazes caught and held. “Yes, but his lungs will give out soon,” he said.
He didn’t sugarcoat it or offer false hope, which I appreciated. Was this what the honest version of Collith was like?
Dismissing my irrelevant line of thinking, I looked back down at the werewolf. He was dying, there was no denying it. If I didn’t act, Finn would never see what else life had to offer him. I heard echoes of those questions I’d asked the kelpie. What if he could borrow someone else’s strength? Would that guarantee his survival?
I suppose that could work.
Remembering those words, I made my choice. Attempting to save Finn with magic was better than letting him slip away. I sat on the floor beside him, reaching over the chalk boundary for his hand.
“Repeat after me,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the waver in my voice. “Finn, we need to make the Blood Vow. But to do that, you have to stay awake, okay?”
Somehow, the werewolf heard me. He nodded, and I pulled out Dad’s pocketknife again. Seconds later, I clasped our bloody hands together and began a different spell. Finn’s sticky lips parted, and he croaked his words.
It worked. Against all odds, it worked.
The instant I felt our connection, magic sparking like a fallen power line, I refocused on saving Finn’s life. I grabbed the thread between me and Gil, along with one I found inside myself, and threw them around the new bond. It was fainter than it should’ve been, flickering in and out.
Take our strength, I instructed the connection, knowing some of it was Finn’s psyche. He’d hear the alpha in my voice, and the werewolf would react instinctively. Light streamed from me and Gil, flowing into Finn.
When I opened my eyes again, he had fully regained consciousness, and his wounds were already closing.
Realizing that I still hadn’t answered Belanor’s question, I tucked this memory away, too.
How did you save the host? the Seelie King had asked. But now Savannah was appearing on my other side, and he’d never get an answer. We had Belanor where we wanted him. I was ready to get this over with.
Savannah had been standing in a corner where none of the light reached, hiding her from sight. She held her spellbook with white-tipped fingers, and the kelpie’s scrap of paper rested on top of the pages.
“If you won’t tell us what your spell is supposed to do,” I said to Belanor, imitating the affable tone he’d used earlier, “then maybe your host will.”
My meaning was clear, especially with a witch standing next to me—we were going to do an exorcism on him. Not only would it save Belanor, and possibly restore the brother Laurie had once loved, but the pain of the spell would be torture for him. The odds were high that he’d give up the name of his master to make it stop.
The sound of Belanor’s laughter startled everyone in the basement.
“You think I’m possessed?” he said. “I am no puppet, dancing on someone’s strings. I am a king, you insignificant flea!”
Silence fell among the five of us as the Seelie King started to laugh again. I could feel my companions looking at me, probably wondering what our next move was. I stood there and waited for silence. I believed Belanor’s claim—the spell I’d witnessed in his head had been a possession spell of some kind, but his voice rang with truth just now.
It meant that Belanor had made his own choices.
“This is excellent news,” I said once the king was finished chortling. Hearing a shift in my tone, his brows lowered, and I could practically see Belanor’s thoughts racing as he tried to figure out why I wasn’t panicking. I tucked my emotions into that dark place where they wouldn’t hinder me. I smiled and added, “If you’re not possessed, it means I can do this.”
I knew that Belanor’s mind would be well-guarded, and I knew I’d pay for it later. I just didn’t care—I burst into his thoughts and memories like a missile.
This hadn’t been part of the plan. Earlier, as the three of us discussed laying this trap for Belanor, we’d decided Laurie would be the one to kill him, if it came to that. But it stood to reason that whoever Belanor was working for, he was afraid of them. If there was no demon in his head, I’d be able to find the memories I needed.
This time, I dug past the things I’d seen when I was last here. I hadn’t gotten much farther when I found a memory that took place mere days after the witch had forcibly performed a spell on Belanor. I saw a single image, one of the young prince sitting in an armchair, looking dispassionately down at a book.
Belanor, a voice whispered.
Just before I reached for the rest, I drew back to reality. Belanor might not survive the next few seconds, and if he died, I wanted to get in the last word. I leaned down to whisper in my tormentor’s ear, “You were never going to be as good as Laurie.”
Then I was back in his head, heading for that memory. The fear that would hold the answers I sought.
But before I could bear witness to the moment Belanor had met his master, I felt the king’s roar of panic and rage. It vibrated through me as if I were in the ocean and a tremor had gone through the water.
“Fortuna, stop him!”
My eyes shot open. I didn’t know who had shouted, but it didn’t matter; my attention zeroed in on Belanor.
He stood with the edge of the handcuff at his throat.
We’d never bothered to retrieve the other pair after the demon had torn them open, I thought with another rush of adrenaline. The cuffs had also been soaked in holy water recently, so the ragged edge would be fatal. We had to stop him. If Belanor went through with this, the knowledge of his master’s identity would die with him. How had he broken free of my power?
His eyes met mine, and they shone with a manic sort of disbelief. “This isn’t the end,” he said. “Look to the morning star. That’s where we’ll meet again.”
His arm tensed. Collith sprang forward in an attempt to grab him, but it was too late. I was too late to use my abilities, as well. The Seelie King dragged the broken cuff across his neck, using his fae strength to inflict the damage. Blood spurted down the front of his gold vest, looking black in the weak light. Belanor swayed for a moment, his expression going slack.
No one moved to catch him as he fell.
Laurie was the one to end the stunned silence. He sounded as shocked as I felt. “Bel killed himself. He actually did it.”
“Fuck,” I spat, making Savannah jump. “Fuck.”
I swung away from Belanor and had an urge to kick something. I knew I should’ve been thinking of Laurie’s loss, but I could only focus on the rage. I’d underestimated how far Belanor would go to protect his master. Without him, without Jacob, I was at another dead end. I’d wanted to find him, the creature that had caused so much pain, harm, and death to countless Nightmares and other innocents. To my own family.
Speaking of my family. Letting out a breath, I took my cell phone off one of the metal shelves—I’d put it there before Belanor’s arrival, worried it would be damaged during the mad dash from the living room to the basement—and found Damon’s name in the contact list. Miraculously, three bars glowed in the upper righthand corner, so I called him right there.
My brother answered on the first ring, as if he’d been staring at his phone the entire time they’d been gone. “Are you okay? Is everyone all right?”
“You can come back,” I said tonelessly, staring down at Belanor’s corpse again. “Yes, we’re fine. We won this round.”
“Be there in twenty.”
The line went dead, and I put my phone in my pocket, still staring at the dead faerie on the floor. I heard the triumph in Belanor’s voice as he hissed, This isn’t the end. I saw his throat opening again. That blue-black blood flying like someone had flicked a paintbrush.
Air. I needed air.
“I’ll… be right back,” I said to the others, sounding strange, even to my own ears.
“What about Belanor’s guards?” one of them questioned.
“They would’ve felt Belanor’s death. They have no reason to attack now.” Without waiting for a response, I spun and hurried up the stairs. I pretended not to feel the multiple gazes boring into my back, and then I was on the main floor, out of their sight. I rushed through the front door and onto the porch.
Just as I’d predicted, there was no sign of Belanor’s creatures or protectors. His witch was long gone, too, which we’d expected when making the plan for tonight’s takedown. That was why we hadn’t bothered keeping watch over her once Belanor sifted inside the house. Laurie had wanted to kill her, but I refused. Our main concern was Belanor. Once we cut off the head of the snake, his followers would scatter and cease to matter.
I leaned against the railing, searching the dark with a thoughtful frown. Maybe their absence wasn’t because they’d felt Belanor’s death and slinked away—maybe he truly had come alone. If that was the case, then Belanor’s arrogance had been the cause of his downfall.
I wanted to learn from his mistakes. Anything to avoid meeting the same end. I didn’t want to cut my own throat in a dim, concrete basement. Alone. Hated.
I stood there for so long the cold began to creep through my bones. No one tried to speak with me. Not even Finn. Though I tried to keep my mind empty, it felt like I’d lost hold of the reins to myself. Thoughts and emotions galloped through me.
In the space of a single day, I’d managed to bind another person to me and take yet another life. I may not have cut Belanor’s throat myself, but his death was my doing. He’d deserved it, I knew that… and yet, guilt was already breathing down my neck. Guilt for liking it. Guilt for enjoying his violent end. It meant that Gwyn really was right about me. What if, in spite of all my efforts, I was still on the path to becoming her?
Something moved at the corner of my eye, pulling me out of the swamp of thoughts I’d fallen into.
This time, I wasn’t surprised to see Laurie at my side. He stared out at the black sky, as well. I expected him to say something about Belanor, or acknowledge that he’d lost a brother today. Instead Laurie said, his tone matter-of-fact, “Do you have any idea how magnificent you are?”
