by K. J. Sutton
Gwyn’s face hadn’t been covered in paint. It was dried blood.
Chapter Seven
I was agitated when I finally fell asleep.
For hours I’d laid on my back, arm flung over my head, and stared at the ceiling. My thoughts returned to Gwyn, almost relentlessly, recalling every word spoken and every movement or gesture made. My instincts were like snakes hissing in a nest, sensing a predator near. It would be a relief to dismiss the encounter as a fluke, a one-off, but I knew the truth with a terrible certainty.
Gwyn of the Wild Hunt would be back, and she wasn’t finished with me.
As the night stretched, thinning into the quiet darkness that most people slept through, something else kept me awake, too. A voice at the back of my mind, hardly more than a whisper, that kept saying Oliver’s name. Reminding me what awaited when I did manage to fall asleep. I wanted to see him, of course I did, but I was also afraid. The entire day, I’d been careful not to think about the shadow being I’d faced.
Whatever the reason—my instincts about Gwyn or my worry for Oliver—when I closed my eyes later that night, I didn’t wake in the dreamscape.
Instead, it was a nightmare.
I felt the dirt first, hard against my cheek. I opened my eyes readily enough, thinking there would be an explanation for why I’d arrived at the dreamscape differently tonight. But I opened my eyes to a shadowy, empty place. The walls were made of brick and there were no doors. High above, a circle glowed with moonlight. Bars extended across the opening, preventing anyone who managed to reach it from escape.
The oubliette, I thought dimly. I’m in the oubliette.
Before panic could creep into my lungs and make it harder to breathe, I reminded myself it was a dream. It had to be. I turned to see the rest of the space, thinking there was no one else here, and I gasped when I saw the figure behind me. She raised her head.
A sound of horror caught in my throat.
It was Savannah, but she was not a witch anymore—she’d become one of her creations. She reached for me with mottled, withering hands. I scrambled backwards, unable to stop myself from crying out. “Someone is coming for you, Fortuna. This aura is dark. The darkest I’ve ever seen,” she rasped.
“Fortuna. Hey, Fortuna.”
The voice wasn’t Savannah’s. I blinked, and suddenly I was looking at Damon. We were in my bedroom, the faint light of early morning pouring inside. My heart slowed, and as I looked around to reassure myself, there was a humming sound in my ear. Thank God. I refocused on Damon and realized the sound had been his voice. “Did you say something?” I asked.
“Yeah, I said I was sorry to wake you.”
I shook my head, pushing myself up slightly. “Don’t be. I should be thanking you, actually.”
“Bad dream?”
I gave him a humorless smile. “You have no idea.”
Damon studied me, and that’s when I noticed the small box in his hand. It was wrapped in Christmas-themed paper. He followed my gaze and cleared his throat. “Oh. Yeah. This will probably be pretty embarrassing for both of us, but I promised Emma I would sing to you—she went to Denver to pack the rest of her things. She’ll be back in time for your party, though.”
“No,” I moaned, scooting back down. “No parties and no singing. Go away. We can both just tell her you did it. But you may leave that gift on the nightstand.”
My brother sat on the edge of the bed. He smelled like the bubblegum-scented shampoo Matthew used. “Sorry. Dad was so weird about keeping promises that now I’m weird about it, too.”
Ignoring this, I burrowed deeper under the covers, taking my pillow with me so I could cover my ears. His off-tune singing reached me anyway. I came back out, sighing. When it was over I asked quickly, “What did you get me?”
Damon set the box down next to my hand. Fingering the little present, I avoided his gaze. I didn’t want to open the present in front of him—the night before had drained me. I didn’t think I could pretend happiness or even gratitude.
We both shifted uncomfortably. A sound burst into the stillness, and the baby monitor in Damon’s hand lit up. It was Matthew, babbling softly, letting the world know that he was awake. A smile spread across my brother’s tired face, and he stood. “I better get started on his breakfast.”
I held up the box. “Thanks for the gift… and the song.”
“Yeah. Anytime… but not really,” he added, his voice filled with soft teasing. I smiled back, but I couldn’t help wondering if Damon would’ve come without Emma pressuring him.
It was the thought that counted, I told myself as I watched him leave. I peeled off the paper and discovered a wooden box. It was decorated in swirls and fake diamonds. The inside was lined with thin red velvet. I flipped it over and found a sticker with a Target label on it, the priced marked down to $4.99. Yes, it was definitely the thought that counted.
Damon’s voice drifted down the hallway. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, I set his gift on the nightstand and left the sweat-dampened bed. As I adjusted my shirt, which had ridden up my back, I sighed at the realization that I’d need to wash the sheets again.
My alarm sounded just as I finished stripping the bed. I turned it off, gathered the bedding in my arms, and left the room.
Over the next hour I started a load of laundry, brushed my teeth, showered, and dressed. I towel-dried my hair and scraped it up into a high messy bun. When I entered the kitchen, Damon stood at the counter, slicing a banana into small pieces. Matthew beamed at me from his high chair. I crossed the room and kissed his silken head. As I went to the coffee maker Damon asked, “Why was your alarm going off, anyway? There’s no way Bea scheduled you on your birthday.”
“Oh, I take self-defense lessons with Adam.” I poured coffee into a travel mug. A thin column of steam rose from the flow. The aroma greeted me a moment later, and my stomach rumbled.
Damon reached for a container of strawberries. “Didn’t Dad teach you all that?”
“Yeah. I guess it makes me feel strong.” I kept my eyes on the lid I was screwing onto the mug as I added, “Maybe you should look into taking a course.”
My tone was too casual. But I had wondered, more than once, how our lives would’ve gone if I’d just taken the time to teach Damon how to fight. He was so young when our parents died that Dad didn’t have the chance. It probably wouldn’t have done much good against a faerie powerful as Jassin… but what if it had? What if we’d never lost those two years?
You never would’ve met Collith, a voice whispered. The startling truth of it made me frown.
My brother didn’t seem to notice anything beyond the strawberries he was cutting. He popped a piece into his mouth and shrugged. “Maybe.”
I was tempted to stay and eat breakfast with them, but I wanted to train more. The nightmare had weakened me, rendered me vulnerable, and I needed to prove that I wasn’t. “I’ll be back later,” I told Damon.
“If you’re not back in time for dinner—” he started.
“I’ll be back in time for the dinner, damn it,” I cut in, glaring at him. I was only half-teasing. My brother suddenly became absorbed in placing the chunks of fruit into a bowl. The moment was so reminiscent of our teenage years that I almost ruined it by smiling.
With the travel mug in one hand and a banana in the other, I dropped another kiss on Matthew’s head and left the kitchen. I set them both down on the entryway bench, took my coat down from the hook, and shrugged it on. Keys clinked in the pocket. I shoved my feet into a pair of boots, picked up my breakfast again, and stepped into the new day.
A minute later, I guided the van down Cyrus’s driveway. The sky came apart in lovely pieces, without panic or protest. Every sound was distant or muffled, every light small and faint. It felt like I was the last person on Earth. I turned up the radio to blaring, wanting to leave no room for thoughts.
The music was so loud that I almost missed the sound of my phone ringing. Glancing at the Caller ID, I
touched the screen and raised it to my ear.
“Where are you?” Lyari asked.
“Hello to you, too. Hey, will you ask Nuvian to do something for me?”
She didn’t make any sounds of annoyance, but I could still feel it coming through my phone. “Yes, what is it?”
I pressed the brakes at a four-way stop and double-checked for other cars. “Ask him to investigate why the Wild Hunt is here.”
There was another pause between us, but this one was notably shorter. Without warning, Lyari released a string of swear words in Enochian. Some of them I recognized, others I didn’t. She ranted in my ear some more and abruptly switched to English. “Where are you?” the faerie demanded again.
My van crept forward. “In life? That’s kind of personal, but if I’m being honest, my life is a clusterfuck.”
Lyari was definitely speaking through her teeth now as she said, “Physically. Where are you physically, Your Majesty?”
“I’m on my way to Adam’s,” I said on a sigh, knowing there would be no deterring her. She appeared in the passenger seat before I’d finished speaking. I yelped and jerked the steering wheel. “What the hell, Lyari?”
“How do you know the Wild Hunt is here?” she demanded, ignoring my reaction.
I held the steering wheel tighter and counted to five. “Gwyn paid a visit last night.”
The faerie’s eyes flashed. For once, she looked like she’d actually taken a bath and gotten a good night’s sleep. “And you didn’t think it was pertinent to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” I countered. Her nostrils flared, and when I saw how much I’d upset her, I relented. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been… distracted.”
Lyari made a dramatic show of looking into the backseat. “And where is the werewolf? You know you’re supposed to contact me if you need a guard, Your Majesty.”
I didn’t respond, because this was the part I usually said something I’d regret later. I reached for the volume knob again and filled the space between us with a Denver morning show. I could feel Lyari simmering. She turned her face toward the window, and for the next two minutes, I enjoyed the radio hosts’ banter. It was almost possible to pretend I was still alone.
Lyari’s voice ruined the illusion. “This vehicle smells foul,” she declared.
So much for the air fresheners. I turned on the blinker and it clicked into the stillness. “Yeah, well, it once belonged to goblins who didn’t care about things like personal hygiene.”
Anyone else might’ve been curious, but not Lyari Paynore. In her mind, she’d probably gotten the relevant information and considered our conversation over. Something about the thought made me smile faintly. The rest of the drive passed in silence, both of us listening to the radio hosts go back and forth. Once we reached Main Street, I maneuvered the van into a parking spot.
“I will wait in the coffee shop next door,” Lyari said, eyeing the shop with distaste. Faeries had a well-known dislike of vampires.
“Adam will be heartbroken,” I told her. In truth, Adam had asked Lyari to dinner the last time she’d been there. She gave me a look that said, if I weren’t the queen, she’d be making a rude gesture right now. I responded with a sweet smile, and Lyari got out of the van. She closed the door harder than necessary. I tried not to laugh as she approached the coffee shop like a storm cloud. With the skill of someone that had been doing it for years, she cast a glamour that made her look like a human girl and went inside.
In a yard across the street, a child bent and attempted to make a snowball, but it wasn’t sticky enough. As he kept trying anyway, I adjusted the rear view mirror and wiped the skin under my eyes to get rid of any excess mascara. Once I looked less like a person who had been up all night, I grabbed my gym bag and stepped into the cold.
Less than a minute later, the familiar scent of machine oil and sweat filled my senses. The door clicked shut with a jarring sound. I frowned, wondering why it had been so loud this time. That was when I realized there was no music playing from the speakers. My instincts stood on end like the fur along Finn’s spine. I glanced toward Adam’s room, remembering the night I’d found broken glass scattered across the floor and my friend fighting his bloodlust.
Before I could decide what to do, Adam emerged from the office. He saw me and froze. “Shit, Fortuna, I’m sorry. Forgot to text you,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek with a knuckle. It left a smear of oil behind.
The sight of him sent relief rushing through me. You’re starting to imagine things, Fortuna. I smiled wryly at Adam’s greeting. “Let me guess. You can’t train today.”
The vampire opened his mouth to respond, but a new voice slithered in the space between us. “Please don’t change your plans on my account.”
I turned faster than I thought capable and instinctively reached for the knife in my coat pocket. I paused when I saw the person coming toward us. He was the most beautiful black man I’d ever laid eyes on. His eyelashes were dark and thick, making his strange eyes all the more prominent—if it were possible, I’d say they were gold. His jaw was strong, but not overly so, and his lips perfectly full. He also had cheekbones any female would murder for.
“Fortuna, this is my sire,” Adam said. His voice was the same as ever, but something in it still made me glance at him.
“Does your sire have a name?” I asked, keeping my expression a blank mask.
The stranger inclined his head. His dark eyes never left my face. “It’s a privilege to meet you, Fortuna Sworn. I am Dracula.”
If he were human, I’d guess Dracula’s age to be in the early twenties.
A thousand questions flitted through my mind like paper planes on the air. My own parents had believed Dracula to be an urban myth. The stuff of gothic literature. If he was real, though, he might have the answers to questions I’d never asked anyone.
Questions about Nightmares, who hadn’t always been on the brink of extinction. Statistically, a vampire as old as Dracula had probably met some during the course of his life. Learned about them.
“As I said, don’t allow my unexpected visit to affect your regular schedule. Please continue,” he said to Adam now. He had a surprisingly melodious voice. I scanned his outfit, realizing that I’d been so distracted by his face I hadn’t really seen anything else. He wore expensive-looking leather shoes, jeans, and a shawl-collar sweater. The only detail that seemed out of place, like something a vampire would own, was the cane. It was carved from dark wood and discolored at the edges. The head was made of silver or steel, and it formed the skull of a bird. I couldn’t tell if it was a crow or a raven.
When Adam turned to me, his expression gave nothing away, but there was something strange about his movements. They were… mechanic. As if he were a puppet and someone was controlling his strings from high above. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave. But my friend was already heading toward the mats, and I didn’t know enough about the relationship between a vampire and his sire. Or maybe there were vampire politics at play. I didn’t want to make things difficult for Adam.
So I stepped onto the mat and faced him. The lack of music was still unnerving.
The vampire picked up where we left off last time I was here. “A good head butt will feel like a cannonball to your attacker,” he said abruptly. His cold voice echoed through the room. “Always, always make sure you tuck your chin. That way you’re hitting him with the crown of your head. Otherwise you’re using your forehead, and that’ll just knock you out, which is probably not what you want.”
As Adam spoke, I allowed him to guide me through the motions, but there was tension in the way he moved. It was obvious he didn’t want me here. Hell, I didn’t want to be here, either. Dracula watched us intently, making no effort to pretend otherwise.
I demonstrated. “Like this?”
This earned a brisk nod. “Good. Cup your hands behind your attacker’s neck. Make sure your arms are bent. Jerk hard and fast a
s you pull your attacker’s face in, while you’re moving forward with the top of your head.”
He showed me, and we continued. There was none of his dry commentary or my friendly insults. When the hour was up—both of us casting surreptitious glances toward the clock—I stepped off the mat, containing a sound of relief, and moved to my bag. “I better get going. I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to see a self-defense lesson, Dracula.”
“Actually, I came to see the new Unseelie Queen,” the vampire said. He stepped past Adam, those unnerving eyes fixed on me. Without warning, he tucked the head of his cane beneath my chin and tilted my head back. My hands clenched into fists, but I kept my volatile instincts in check. “The supernatural world always takes notice when there’s a new power player.”
“I’m not a power player,” I said automatically, jerking away.
However young he appeared, this vampire acted like something that had been walking the Earth for a long time. He blinked at me, abrupt and quick, almost like an insect. “You’re not? Did you not free the slaves at Court?”
If he was trying to trick me, I couldn’t figure out how. “Yes,” I said slowly.
“Did you not undergo a series of three deadly trials in order to obtain a crown?”
“Yes.”
“Well there you are, then.”
“You didn’t come all this way just to meet me,” I insisted, still trying to see the game board from his vantage point. First Gwyn, now Dracula. Something else was going on, something I was missing, and neither of them were telling the complete truth.
Dracula acknowledged my words with a faint smile that made warning bells clang in my head. “Very good, young one. You are correct—it is not the only reason, no.”
Okay. There was being diplomatic, and then there was being a doormat. I looked Dracula in the eye and allowed him to see the monster living inside. “You may call me ‘Fortuna’ or ‘Your Majesty’. Another ‘young one’ will get you a one-way ticket to my dungeons,” I told him flatly.
