Deadly Dreams (Fortuna Sworn Book 3)

by K. J. Sutton

  One thing urban legends got right about vampires, as evidenced by my success while I’d been invading Dracula’s head, was the bloodlust. If Dracula had promised not to harm me, I would’ve instantly distrusted him.

  At the door, I faced him again. My gaze flicked down to his bare chest of its own volition. When I looked back up, the vampire was smirking. It was so boyish, so disconcertingly normal, that I decided to take a risk. I still chose my words carefully—one, because I didn’t want to offend a creature as powerful as Dracula, and two, because it wouldn’t be smart to reveal how badly I wanted his help. How badly Oliver needed his help. “Being a vampire, I assume you’ve been around a long time,” I ventured.

  His eyes gleamed with amusement. “That is a safe assumption, yes.”

  “Then you might have information on Nightmares.” Saying it out loud felt like a risk, somehow, as though I were showing this ancient vampire where I was most vulnerable. But I’d already come this far. I swallowed and forced myself to continue. “You might’ve heard facts or myths that have been lost through the ages.”

  “Is there something in particular you’re seeking?” he asked. His tone was polite, with no hint of curiosity, as if he knew I’d shut down at any sign of speculation. I could still hear the question, though, even if he didn’t say it out loud. Why would the Unseelie Queen be asking about her own species?

  There were two things I sought, actually. I wanted to know whether the bond with the Unseelie Court would keep changing my powers, and I also hoped for information about a Nightmare’s dreams. “I’d like to know more about… our abilities,” I said finally. Guess I didn’t trust him that much.

  Dracula was silent, probably expecting me to expand upon this, but I met his gaze and said nothing else. The truth about Oliver hadn’t passed my lips since I was a child, and back then, I’d been sent to a psychologist several times to discuss my ‘imaginary friend’. It went against all my instincts to speak of him now.

  “I will reach out to my contacts,” the vampire said after another moment.

  Hope filled my chest, making it feel tight. I didn’t thank Dracula—he wasn’t a faerie, but I wasn’t comfortable saying those words to anyone outside my family these days. I offered my hand instead. Dracula didn’t attempt to kiss it, like so many of the fae courtiers. He shook it with a firm grip, and just as it was with Collith and Laurie, I felt nothing beyond the touch of his fingers. “Until we meet again, Queen Fortuna.”

  As I pushed the door open with my back, I gave him a single nod in return, then I was outside and gone. Finn ran down the sidewalk, making the pastor’s wife shriek and flatten against the window of the antique store. I bit back a smile and hurried past.

  Fresh air filled my lungs, making it easier to breathe. I let out a breath as I unlocked the van and slid behind the wheel. Finn jumped over me and landed gracefully in the passenger seat, which was already covered in his fur. In that moment, it felt as though he’d been in my life for years, rather than weeks.

  Once I’d pulled onto Main Street, I pressed the button that would lower his window. The werewolf shoved his great head through the opening and his tongue flopped out.

  Ten minutes later, I was parking the van again, this time in Cyrus’s driveway. The brakes let out a long whine. My friend’s truck was gone, usually a reliable indication that he was at Bea’s. I turned the key, pocketed it, and reached over Finn to open the door for him. He bounded into the trees with a string of yips and snarls—a fat squirrel scuttled up a tree to escape him, chittering with obvious panic.

  Careful to avoid hitting Emma’s car with the door, I shifted my legs to the side. As usual, sounds drifted from the barn as soon as I stepped into the open. Collith was back to fighting his demons, and I still had some of my own to face. This thought was at the front of my mind when I entered the house.

  Damon and Matthew were in the living room, playing with the child-sized plastic kitchen Emma had bought last week. The History Channel played on the flat screen. I scanned the rest of the space, but there was no sign of Emma. Since her car was still in the driveway, she was probably at Fred’s grave again.

  I still had some time to burn before heading to Court for Gwyn’s supposed welcome feast. Remembering the task Consuelo had given me, I took a brief shower, pulled on the first set of clothes I found in my dresser, and padded into the kitchen in search of a notebook. Then I returned to the living room, where Damon and Matthew were still playing, and flopped onto the couch.

  My hair dripped water on the cushion I was sitting on. I wrote the date in the upper right-hand corner, then waited for the words to come. What else had Consuelo said? It’s just a stream of consciousness meant to let you process your trauma. Okay, so I was supposed to write about that night? How I felt about it? Or maybe just how I felt right now?

  There was a slight possibility I was overthinking it. Whatever the reason, no matter how long I sat there, the paper remained blank. I clutched my pencil so hard two of my knuckles cracked, and I pursed my lips as I looked at it. Nothing came to me.

  An hour went by. Then two.

  “The Eskimos traveled for fifty miles in the freezing snow to get to shelter…” the TV droned. Matthew babbled softly, as if he was responding. A bubble of spit formed at the corner of his mouth, and Damon wiped it away with the ball of his thumb. There was such a tender look on his face that it hurt. Why should it hurt that my brother had found happiness?

  With frustration rising within me, I put my pencil harshly to the paper. Roses are red, violets are blue. Something is wrong with me, and I don’t know what to do.

  “There,” I muttered, glaring at the poor little poem.

  Seconds later, Lyari shimmered into view. “Ready to go?” she said by way of greeting. Her armor looked as though she’d buffed it with oil. Her hair was pulled back in thick braids.

  Thank God. I nodded, abandoning the notebook on the coffee table with undisguised relief. I caught Lyari glancing toward it with obvious curiosity before she schooled her expression back into its usual scowl.

  I took my coat off the hook on the wall and moved to the door. Finn must have been hunting, because he usually appeared when he heard my footsteps. Good, I thought. If he were here, he’d want to come to the feast, and I still hated exposing him to the creatures and the place that had brought him so much pain. “Good luck tonight,” Damon called.

  I paused in the doorway and looked back at him. I snapped a mental picture, on the likely chance that something went terribly wrong at this feast and I didn’t come back. The plastic kitchen, Matthew standing in front of it, Damon sitting beside him. “Thanks. We’ll need it,” I muttered. “Matt, cook some food for me while I’m gone.”

  “Matthew. We’re calling him Matthew, for the love of—”

  The door closed with a thunderous sound. I was grinning as Lyari and I set off into the night.

  During the past month, we’d made this journey so many times that we had created a path, of sorts, through the snow. Come spring, the earth would probably be beaten down. As had become our custom, Lyari and I walked without speaking. Weeks ago, it would have been tense and full of unspoken jabs or insults. But somehow, without my really noticing, it had become something different.

  “Hey, what can you tell me about Thuridan?” I asked suddenly, thinking of my last evening at Court. My voice felt harsh in the frost-laden stillness.

  “Well, he certainly wasn’t the brute you saw the other night. For most of his childhood, he was called the Runt. His parents and siblings were cruel to him.” There was something in Lyari’s voice that hinted she was still bothered by these memories. “He left Court many years ago and hasn’t been back since—I heard a rumor that he settled somewhere in Australia. He must’ve come to the Tithe because he heard of Jassin’s death. I almost didn’t recognize him.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “Maybe. I thought there was…” She faltered—something I’d never heard her do before—and a moment l
ater, her expression settled back into its usual hard mask. “Obviously I was wrong.”

  We arrived at the Unseelie Court shortly after that.

  Once again, there was no sign of Laurie when I walked into Collith’s rooms. Though a part of me was grateful, it did mean I was on my own for the gown and makeup. I briefly considered asking for Lyari’s help—especially considering how much she’d loathe it—but the thought of us picking out clothes together, like girls at a shopping mall, was too strange. I moved toward the wardrobe and pulled the doors open. My gaze went to the dresses at the opposite end of the bar. They were ones I’d already worn at Court, and therefore, according to Laurie, permanently retired.

  For a few minutes, my focus lingered on the gown made of sticks and spider webs—still stained with my blood—and I couldn’t think of anything but Collith. How I’d hated him, in that moment, as the cat o’ nine tails came down on my back again and again. That was when I had made a vow to resist him forever.

  Then, later, Collith had revealed what had been going on in his own head during that terrible night. I made sure to feel every single lash, he said.

  It was so twisted. So dark. So noble. So entirely Collith.

  There was an ache in my chest now, as though the string that had once been connected to Collith was tugging at the air, still searching for him. Blinking rapidly, I hurried to pick out a gown, so I could escape this room and all the memories it contained.

  Tonight I wore gold. There was nothing whimsical or delicate about it, though—the material looked like armor, as if a goldsmith had melded it perfectly to my body. It outshone even the sapphire.

  In front of the mirror, I tamed my hair into something that resembled a chignon. Next I tucked a golden net beneath the crown, hiding the upper half of my face beneath its glittering strands. It didn’t look right, so I took the net off and rummaged through the makeup drawer. I found a cylinder-shaped container of gold powder, which I dusted on the swell of my breasts and most of my face, creating a startling effect that I liked.

  There didn’t seem to be any gold lipstick or gloss in the supplies Laurie had left me, but there was at least five tubes of red. I hurriedly put a layer on, smacked my lips, and moved toward the bed. I shoved my feet back into the boots and walked toward Lyari, who was already opening the door. I started turning right, as we always did.

  “Not that way,” Lyari said suddenly, making me jerk to a halt. “We’re not going to the throne room.”

  Before I could ask anything else, she veered to the left, startling me. Swearing, I hauled up my skirt and hurried after her. “Where are we going, then?” I demanded. I could hear the subtle sounds of footsteps behind us—Nuvian or some of his Guardians, no doubt.

  Lyari didn’t answer, probably because she knew how much it would annoy me. We were heading back to the surface, I realized after a minute. It was only until we were walking down the tunnel closest to the door, the path slanting upward, that Lyari finally spoke. “Imagine a clearing,” she instructed. “It’s surrounded by enormous trees and wildflowers are everywhere. It should be nearing sunset there. I’m standing next to you. Now walk forward, and don’t lose that image.”

  I walked forward with my eyes closed, and I could hear Lyari keeping pace with me. The moment I felt air on my face, I opened them.

  Wherever we were, it was pleasantly warm. A bonfire, smoldering under a blush-pink sky, was the only landmark in sight. Everything else was tall grass and pretty wildflowers. Beyond these were trees, as far as the eye could see. There were mountains in the distance.

  “Welcome to your first faerie revel,” Lyari said.

  I shook my head, still searching the grass, the trees, even the horizon. I’d been to a faerie revel once before, in a dream. This empty place was nothing like what I’d experienced with Collith. “What are you talking about? Where is everyone?”

  “Look again,” Lyari ordered. When I shot her an exasperated glare, she just raised her eyebrows expectantly. Glowering, I refocused on the clearing.

  As I scanned the tall grass, another memory chose that moment to resurface, and it felt as unstoppable as a breath. Collith’s chest pressed against my back. His tempting, familiar scent surrounded me. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he whispered the secret to finding another dimension. The trick is to expect more.

  The ache was back. I opened my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them, and looked out at the clearing again. Something was different this time, maybe because the memory had opened my mind and left it vulnerable. The grass and shadows shimmered like a mirage in the middle of the desert. Then, between one blink and the next, everything changed.

  I gasped, unable to contain the sound of wonderment. I was faintly aware that Lyari was smiling—it was such a rare occurrence that I knew I should glance at her, just to see what it looked like—but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight before us.

  The entire scene looked like a painting. Bonfires reached for the sky, placed sporadically throughout the clearing. Fae children chased each other, their laughter filling the air like bells. Some of them clutched streamers in their small hands. One of the courtiers here must’ve had a preternatural affinity with animals, because I saw a doe wandering through the crowd and a mountain lion batting at a female’s skirt. She snatched it away from its paw and hissed her displeasure.

  “The feast has already begun,” Lyari muttered, her eyes on the piles of food. “They didn’t respect you enough to wait.”

  I was so absorbed by our surroundings that I didn’t respond. Near the flames, where the light bounced off their bare skin, there were faeries dancing. Some were completely naked. The Wild Hunt was already here, I noted, recognizing several faces among the dancers.

  These creatures moved with an abandonment that had been forgotten everywhere else in the world. They didn’t fear being watched, or mocked, or seen. As I watched, one of them tilted his head back and howled. I followed the sound, dragging my eyes upward. Overhead, there was nothing but stars and smoke. Despite the lingering daylight, a full moon was visible, gazing down at us with the serenity of something that had existed for a long, long time.

  Without warning, Collith’s voice sounded in my head again. A memory from another night like this, when I’d found myself drawn to the fae instead of repelled by them. It’s like a flower growing amongst the wreckage. Something beautiful hidden in the ugliness. Worth saving, don’t you think?

  A breeze slipped past, fragrant with the scents of crushed grass and burning wood. We walked by a faerie sitting cross-legged in the grass. There was an instrument balanced on his velvet-covered knee. It was similar to a guitar, but smaller, and I had never seen its likeness before. Seemingly unaware of our scrutiny, the faerie strummed his fingertips lightly across the strings, a curtain of greasy bangs hanging over his eyes. “A face lovely as rain, but this queen has claws and fang… even sharper than those of the dragon she slain!”

  I barely had a chance to wonder if the faerie was singing about me when he began crowing my name, over and over, and I quickly moved on. Lyari’s armor made soft sounds as she followed. I wasn’t sure where we were going—probably the strange-looking throne at the other end of the festivities.

  In the next moment, I forgot about the throne as I tripped over something in the grass. I managed to find my balance, probably because of Adam’s training, and twisted around to see what it was. A wine bottle gleamed in the firelight. After a moment, I realized it wasn’t the only one—they were everywhere.

  “There are no more humans to attend us,” Lyari said by way of explanation.

  “Children,” I muttered, continuing on. “You’re like children.”

  As we passed another bonfire, I faltered at the sight of a large cage and the massive bear it contained. He looked as alone as I felt. Faeries squeezed their faces through the bars surrounding his place in the world. They gawked, whispered, pointed. The bear ignored them, his eyelids fluttering in his sleep, as if he dreamed of a
different time. But as I stood on the other side of the gawking crowd, watching the bear dream, it occurred to me that we were all trapped in cages and none of us knew it.

  “What occupies your thoughts?”

  I started at the voice so close to my ear. When I turned, I saw brown eyes looking back at me, crow’s feet extending from their corners. The female wore red lipstick like mine, hoop earrings, and her hair hung down her back in thick waves. Witch, I guessed. Like Nightmares, they were one of the few species of Fallen that aged, albeit still much more slowly than humans.

  “I was toying with the idea of letting this bear loose,” I informed her, startled by my own honesty.

  The stranger’s lips twitched. “Excellent. You lift the latch while I work a spell that traps them all in this clearing.”

  It was a dangerous game she was playing, and we both knew it. She was trusting that I wouldn’t have her seized or killed for such a treasonous suggestion. I rewarded her a warm smile. “What brings you to the Unseelie Court, ma’am?”

  She groaned. “God, did you just call me ‘ma’am’? Thanks for making me feel my age.”

  “Sorry. I’m still pretty new at this whole queen thing.”

  “Actually, I’ve heard that you’ve adjusted to the crown amazingly well,” she countered with a gleam in her eye. “Or so my niece once told me. I believe you know her. Savannah Simonson?”

  It felt like every nerve ending in my body flared. If this witch was here for revenge—after all, I had tried to kill her niece—I was in trouble. I cast a furtive glance toward Lyari, hoping she would see something in my expression. But my Right Hand stood a few feet back, scanning every faerie that wandered near me. I refocused on Savannah’s aunt and spoke quietly. “Look, I don’t—”

  The witch waved a hand, her rings glittering in the low light. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for Matthew. Or to take my vengeance on that Nightmare for breaking Savannah’s spirit.”