Beautiful nightmares, p.76
Beautiful Nightmares, page 76
I didn’t want to end it. But I had what I needed and time wasn’t on my side.
When I’d touched Gwyn’s face, I’d made sure to touch the blood trailing down her chin. I clenched my hand into a fist, protecting the blood I’d stolen as I pulled away and got to my feet. Gwyn stayed where she was, her lips swollen, her blond braid loosened and mussed. I admired the huntress for a moment, knowing everything would change once I spoke again.
Just as I started to, there was movement in the window above. I glanced up and saw a thin figure standing there—Nym must’ve been drawn by the sound of a gunshot. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a subtle nod before he backed away from the glass, leaving behind a smear of fingerprints.
I didn’t know what that nod meant, but seeing Nym was exactly what I’d needed. A reminder of who, and what, I was fighting for. Even if I blackened my soul in the process. They’re worth it. I looked down at Gwyn again, my eyes narrowed, heart hardened with resolve. “Repeat the vows I’m about to say, and I might think about making this easier for you,” I said.
Gwyn laughed and rasped, “I will make no vows of fealty to you, silly creature.”
“I’m not an expert at this, and I suspect a willing soldier is more effective than an unwilling one, but I don’t need your permission. Just your blood… and mine.” In a savage movement, I ripped my arm open with my teeth. I backed away and shoved my fingers, still covered with Gwyn’s blood, into the ragged gash. Enochian poured out of my mouth in a strong, certain chant. I’d only said the words twice before, but they came to me now like old friends. Like the magic wanted to be used. “Allar gono epoh. Allar gono epoh. Allar gono epoh!”
By the time the dark-haired faerie—Spindle—started forward again, it was too late. Already I could feel a fresh bond forming, a new thread attaching.
It seemed different from the others, probably because I didn’t force Gwyn to say any of the things Gil and Finn had said while their spells were forging. Or maybe the kiss was to blame, and the lingering connection it had forged between us. Or maybe it worked due to the fact that I’d consumed a little of her blood, and could taste it even now.
Or maybe the sounds pouring out of my mouth were Words, the language of a god, and that overpowered everything else.
Whatever the reason, this bond wasn’t as pure or gentle as the ones I shared with Gil and Finn. This connection was made of shadow, and smoke, and black fire. It hurt to touch and everything about it felt wrong. Seconds after its creation, I wanted it gone. I fortified my mental wall as a precaution—something told me that I’d need to keep my guard up constantly now.
Gwyn knew what I’d done, of course. At some point during my chanting, she’d flown to her feet, her teeth bared in an expression of savagery. Her sword was drawn back, as if she’d been forced to stop mid-swing. Her hunters, too, had frozen in place. Even Spindle. We could all feel each other, I realized with grim fascination. They had a bond to Gwyn, who now had a bond to me. Through her, I could control the Wild Hunt, one of the oldest and most evil magics in existence.
“How?” Gwyn snarled. “You’re not a witch. You’re not from the Tongue’s bloodline.”
“No, I’m not. Despite your long life, Gwyn of bloodline Nudd, there are many things you still don’t know. I am something you’ve never encountered before, and it was a mistake to cross me. One that I can’t imagine you’ll make again.” For the next part, I raised my voice so Gwyn’s riders would hear, as well. “Since you turned down my generous offer to make this easier, we’ll do it the hard way. You will never kill another witch, unless I command you to. You will never hunt another person, unless I give you leave to do so. You will not plot revenge against me. Tonight you will leave in peace, and return only when I summon you.”
Gwyn lowered her sword. She looked first at the dripping tear in my arm, then at the steady gun I’d pointed in Spindle’s direction, and finally back at my face. I couldn’t define the light that shone in the faerie’s eyes. Her smile, too, was small and ambiguous. “I told you,” she said quietly. “I told you that one day you would be just like me. That day came even sooner than I expected.”
Her words rolled off me like a bead racing across a wooden floor. I smiled back, but there was nothing confusing about the curve of my lips—it was pitying. “I will never be like you, because there’s one vital difference between us. Something I have that you don’t.”
Gwyn tipped her head to the side, lazily appraising me from my hairline to my chin. From the bond, I knew she wanted another kiss. Confirming this, her voice was throaty as she replied, “And what’s that?”
“A family,” I answered flatly. Adding insult to injury, I put my back to her and said over my shoulder, “Only when I summon you, Gwyn. Remember that.”
With that, I left her there. Gwyn reached for the magic immediately, testing its strength, searching for weaknesses. The new bond thrashed and fought like a wild horse. I grabbed hold of it just to show her that I could. Within those strands I was surprised to discover… admiration. Gwyn watched me walk toward the barn, and even with a bullet in her chest, she was able to check out my ass as I went.
That wasn’t all she admired, though. I wasn’t sure anyone had gotten the best of Gwyn in a century or two, and she couldn’t help but respect me for it. I wasn’t a complete fool, of course—I knew there were more feelings and thoughts at the end of Gwyn’s thread. She was probably forming a plan to kill me while she undressed me with her eyes. I knew she was, because I was doing the same thing.
“Did we miss the party?” someone called, startling both of us.
The voice floated from the dark, and its owner emerged a second later. Gil strode toward me casually, his hair artfully gelled, hands shoved in the pockets of his grease-stained jeans. Finn was slightly behind him, fresh from the transformation. He’d been too frantic to hose off, because pieces of torn flesh clung to his neck and forearms. The clean clothes Emma had left for him already needed to be washed again.
“Sorry, boys, party is over,” I told them. “Our guests were just leaving.”
Though I was responding to Gil, I directed the words at Gwyn. She gave no indication that she’d even heard me. The werewolf moved to stand on my right, and the vampire appeared on my left. They must’ve felt the new bond I’d made, but I didn’t sense anger from either of my friends. For once, the two of them were in perfect agreement, identical waves of protectiveness emanating from both of their minds. I realized these natural enemies had finally found a common ground—me.
Gwyn studied each male closely. When she was finished, she met my gaze again, and her expression was fathomless. “It’s been mere weeks since we spoke last, Nightmare,” she said slowly, “and in that time you’ve bound this many to you? I underestimated that delicious darkness writhing in your heart. It may be the death of us all… and what a death it will be.”
For these final words, her voice was an eerie, anticipatory whisper. I stared back at her, thinking that it almost seemed as though Gwyn of the Wild Hunt wanted to die. Suddenly I was tempted to use the connection between us to learn more about this ancient warrior. She wouldn’t be able to keep me out now.
Her taunt was the only reason why I hesitated. No, why I resisted.
Instead, I walked into the barn. It took exactly seven steps to reach it, and for those seven seconds, it felt like the only sounds in the world were my boots on the frozen gravel and the hollow wind. Neither Gwyn or her hunters tried to stop me—they couldn’t. Hiding an unexpected rush of satisfaction, I waited for Gil and Finn to pass before I pulled the door shut. It clanked into place and enshrouded us in silence. No one said anything. I stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. What I’d just done. Then I squared my shoulders, took a breath, and headed for the stairs.
I had left Emma alone with a hysterical necromancer who was responsible for murdering her husband.
I pulled out my cell phone to send Damon a warning. I also sent a text to Lyari, asking if she was all right. My companions followed me up into the loft, and the thunder of the Wild Hunt’s departure filled the air, then faded into nothing.
As soon as we walked over the threshold, the lights hit Finn, and the sight of him hurt. He was even filthier than I thought. Blood smeared every part of his solemn face, and bits of bone were buried in his hair. He must’ve sped the transformation process when he heard the Wild Hunt arrive.
Concern pricked my heart. Werewolves lived extraordinarily long lives, if they weren’t killed… and if they didn’t kill themselves. I’d heard of their bodies giving out, wearing down, and Finn’s lined face made me worry he was on his way to being one of those wolves.
But those wolves didn’t have a meddlesome Nightmare in their lives.
“Why don’t you use the shower in my room?” I suggested gently.
When Finn didn’t acknowledge me, I put my hand on his shoulder. It was hot, as if the guilt he felt was radiating through his very skin. I didn’t need magic to know why he was so full of self-loathing—he thought he’d failed me. Just as he thought he’d failed me at the hospital. Just as he thought he’d failed Katie and his mate before that. I put my palms on both sides of his neck, forcing him to focus. “It wasn’t your fault, Finn. Any of it. Do you understand me?”
By now, I knew the werewolf so well that I didn’t expect an answer in words. Finn’s language was a silent one, but it was no less powerful. My question floated between us for a moment, then he wrapped his fingers around my wrists and bowed his head, breathing deeply. The bond between us lit up, glowing with our shared love, grief, and pain. I used our connection to communicate the truth Finn still couldn’t bring himself to believe, chanting it like a spell. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.
“I am… uncomfortable,” Gil decided, his voice cutting between us.
The bond dimmed and Finn released his hold on me. I rolled my eyes, but it had done exactly what Gil intended—the tension in the room eased. It felt like I could breathe for the first time since Savannah had knocked on the door. I was still buzzing with magic and adrenaline, though. I turned to Gil and asked, “How much have you picked up from the bond? What do you know about Savannah Simonson?”
Finn’s footsteps made the floor creak as he went to shower. Considering my questions, Gil’s head tilted. “I know that she’s a necromancer, and a powerful one,” he said. “I know that she’s the kid’s mother. I know that whenever she’s nearby or her name comes up, people’s scents change and their hearts beat faster. And I know that she’s in the bathroom with Emma, who basically told me everything when we got high together last Tuesday.”
Savannah and Emma were in the bathroom? Why was it so quiet, then? Anxious for the old woman’s safety, I strode down the hall quickly. Faint sounds floated through the door, and I recognized Emma’s voice. They were talking about Fred. My shoulders slumped, and as I turned, my gaze flicked to the door on the other side. I considered checking on Nym—in my mind’s eye, I saw that strange nod he’d given me during the confrontation with Gwyn—but my head was starting to hurt. Conversations with Nym tended to be confusing and sad, which would only add to the dull throb.
Telling myself I’d talk to him in the morning, I returned to the main room instead. I sank onto the couch and released a long, weary sigh. Gil dropped on the cushion next to me, hitting the leather so hard that it sounded like a slap. For a minute, we listened to the sound of running water. The refrigerator hummed and rattled as it made another batch of ice.
“It figures that, instead of finding a way to break the bond, I just make another one. Story of my life,” I muttered, already brooding over everything I could’ve done differently during my latest confrontation with Gwyn.
“Break the bond?” Gil echoed, his face turning toward me.
I looked back at him. My eyebrows drew together, and remorse stabbed my heart for the thousandth time. “Yeah. That was always my plan, but we keep getting attacked, so I’ve been a little distracted. When I did the spell, I didn’t want to enslave you to me, Gil. I was trying to defend myself. I will fix it, okay?”
“You think the bond took away my choices?” Abandoning the couch, Gil squatted in front of me, his hands folded between his knees. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice as he said, “The bond doesn’t take anything away from me. It gives to me.”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about, Gil? It gives to you? You haven’t borrowed any of my power, I would’ve felt it.”
“Just shut up and let me try to put it into words.” He sat preternaturally still, his angular features sharpening from the intensity of his thoughts. “Before I met you in that wretched cell, I was alone in the world. Oh, I had Nicky, of course, but I had no family of my own. I’d come home to my empty apartment every night and get high just to avoid the loneliness. Now all of that has changed. Even if I go back to that empty apartment, I know I’ll never feel lonely again. It’s the same for the werewolf, by the way—I’ve heard his thoughts. God, it’s annoying. Fortuna this and Fortuna that. The guy needs to get a hobby. Hey, is Tinder still a thing?”
“Gil.”
“You’re right, I’m getting off track. My point is, the spell you cast was just a connection, Sworn. But that connection is what allows us to know each other in a way few people get to experience. How could we not love, after that? How could we not come to cherish those glimpses, or knowing that every time we reach out, there will always be someone on the other end?
“And before you get worried, no, it’s not that sort of love,” Gil added, getting back to his feet in a blur. “Even now, I wouldn’t fuck you to save my own life.”
He flopped back onto the couch. I watched him, my lips twisted in thought. There was a lot to unpack about everything he’d just said. I had never seen Gil so earnest, and he’d essentially put words to the same things I’d been feeling. But in spite of all that… there was still a possibility none of it was real. Magic wasn’t always a show and a bang; sometimes it was a whisper in a dream, influencing us where we were most vulnerable.
My head throbbed anew, and suddenly I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. At least not tonight.
I deliberately focused on the last part of Gil’s short speech. “Did you just say that you’d rather die than have sex with me?” I asked with raised brows.
The vampire pretended to contemplate this. “I suppose when you put it that way… yeah,” he said.
“You’re an asshole.”
“That may be, but I’m your asshole, darling.” Gil hooked an arm around my neck and yanked me close, pressing an obnoxious kiss against my temple. “And if you ever tell anyone I said all this horribly sappy shit, I’ll rip your guts out and feed them to the fishies in the Thames, bond or no bond.”
I shoved him away, scowling. Gil snickered and jumped up again, ambling toward the kitchen as if he were taking a stroll through London. He opened the fridge and took out a blood bag, which Adam obtained through means I’d never wanted to know specifics about.
“If you don’t use a glass, Emma will yell at you,” I called.
Even Gil didn’t have the stamina to go up against the old woman. The silverware drawer slid open, then I listened to him open the door to the microwave. There were a few beeps. Gil cursed, and this was followed by more beeping. A familiar hum ventured into the stillness. In the meantime, I checked my phone and realized that I’d missed two texts coming in.
The first was from Damon. More tension left my body as I read it. Thanks for the head’s up. We’ll hang out at Danny’s. Let me know when she leaves. You can explain your text about Matthew when we get back.
The other was from Lyari. Hers was more worrisome. I’m fine. Be back tomorrow, the brief message read.
I reread it, frowning. What could Lyari possibly be doing that would make her ignore my panicked summons earlier? Maybe I’m asking the wrong question, I thought, looking down at the text again. What could Lyari possibly be doing that would make her miss my panicked summons?
Gil had just flopped back onto the couch—he’d put a metal straw in his cup, and it rattled against the rim—when the bathroom door opened.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and stood reluctantly. Savannah stopped in front of me, her eyes downcast. I wondered if she’d left the couch between us by design. The gown she’d been wearing when she first arrived was gone, replaced by a pair of Emma’s whitewashed jeans and a sweater that read, MERRY CANNABIS on the front.
“My head is quiet now. Thank you,” Savannah whispered, her entire body quaking. Emma appeared behind her. I spared a glance at the old woman, asking her with my expression, Are you okay?
Emma gave me a soft smile and nodded. I refocused on Savannah.
“Don’t make me regret saving you,” I said, but I didn’t have the energy to make the words threatening. Walking toward the door, I swallowed a weary sigh and added, “We’d better get going. I hate walking to the Unseelie Court in the dark.”
Savannah shook her head. “You don’t need to walk me back. Really. I’ll be okay, especially now that the Witch Killer is gone.”
“I have some business there anyway. After you.” I reached for my coat. As I pulled it on, I turned toward Emma. I darted a glance at Savannah and lowered my voice to say, “We need to have another family meeting. Tonight. Will you text Damon and let him know it’s safe to come home? Oh, and tell him not to let Matthew out of his sight.”
“I’m on it.” Emma turned away, producing her phone like a magic trick.
Savannah disappeared into the stairwell. I started to follow her, thought better of it, and fixed my gaze on Gil. “Will you stick around for a bit? Keep an eye on things while I’m gone? I know Finn is here, but it never hurts to have two people keeping watch, instead of one.”
The straw made a crackling sound as he sucked on it. “You know,” the vampire drawled, “you keep saying you’re not a queen. Seems to me like you’ve been protecting this small Court since we got here.”
