The Dead and the Dusk (The Nightmare Court Book 2)

by Val Saintcrowe

  Eithan looked over his shoulder at the nightmares on the other side of them. He furrowed his brow. “Wait here.”

  “Where else am I going to go?” Her heart was sinking. Ciaska had sent them down here to die, and that was what was going to happen.

  Eithan climbed up on the fallen rocks. They weren’t solid, and rocks began skittering down, but that turned out to mean that the opening at the top was bigger. Eithan peered over it. “Okay, I don’t know why I told you to wait there. I guess because I thought we could hold the creatures back. But come over here, because I can’t see anything.” He let out a rueful laugh.

  She did, climbing up next to him over the rocks, and they peered through the opening.

  The light illuminated another rock cave-in, blocking the path about fifty feet down.

  “Perfect,” said Eithan, who was already climbing over the rocks.

  She climbed after him, and the rocks moved a good bit as she did. When she was inside, Eithan started putting rocks up to cover the opening, closing them in.

  “It’s only temporary, of course, but we’ll be safe here,” he said.

  She started to help him, but he stopped her.

  “Hey, rest,” he said. “Put out the light, sit back, let me do this.”

  “I’m not an invalid.”

  “You’re expending more energy than me, and you’re human. You need food and water, and I don’t need either of those things.”

  She saw his point. She sat down on the damp rock floor and contemplated that she was actually both hungry and thirsty. She extinguished the light, resting her head against the wall.

  Now, it was dark.

  She could hear the nightmares moving around on the other side of the rocks. She could hear Eithan blocking them inside this little chamber. She tried to only concentrate on what she could hear and not on anything else, like how terrified she was.

  Some time later, Eithan crawled over next to her. She couldn’t really see well enough to make out his features, but she felt his cold skin brush hers as he settled on the floor beside her.

  She was trying not to be afraid, but she was panicking. She wasn’t sure what drove her to do what she did next. Maybe she simply wanted to distract herself. But she put her hands on Eithan’s chest, pressed her body into his hard, cold, solidness, and then she kissed him.

  He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but he kissed her back. His arms came around her, lightly stroking her back, and then—as she deepened the kiss—pressing her closer to him.

  She crawled on top of him, straddling him, threading her hands into his hair, kissing him, writhing against him, trying to get as close as she could get.

  He grunted, extricating his mouth from hers. “Uh… Nicce?”

  “Shh,” she said, and she was kissing his chin, his jaw, feeling the sting of his stubble against her lips and wondering why his hair grew if he didn’t age. She found a spot beneath his ear that made him suck in a sharp breath.

  He went still, tilting his back, panting as her mouth and tongue danced against his frigid skin.

  She seized his shoulders, dug her fingers into him.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he breathed. “What are you…?”

  “Shh,” she insisted, lips on his again.

  He grasped her shoulders and, with effort, tore her away from him, holding her out at arms’ length. “This is not resting.” His voice was rough.

  “I don’t want to rest,” she said. “I want this.”

  “This is a stupid thing to want right now,” he said.

  “Stupid?” she repeated, and now she was angry. “You want it too.” She ground her pelvis against his.

  Seemingly involuntarily, his hips moved against her. “No, I don’t.”

  She stopped. That had hurt her feelings. She considered for a minute, and then she crawled off of him.

  “I mean…” He was annoyed. “Of course I want this. I want you. But this is not the place or the time, and you need to keep your strength up.”

  She hugged herself, putting her back against the wall. “Fine. That’s fine.”

  “You’re angry with me.” He couldn’t believe this.

  “I’m not.”

  “Nicce, they’re out there trying to get in. They want to eat us. How you can possibly be thinking about—”

  “About how I want to touch you again before I die? I don’t know. How could I?”

  “I suppose that was your dying wish, wasn’t it?” he muttered.

  She drew herself up. “I said that so that I could get close enough to get your damned sword. Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not as though I just went to pieces at the sight of you.”

  “No, of course not. You’re making a lot of sense right now.” He sounded bewildered and frustrated.

  She was sounding idiotic, wasn’t she? Why had she done it? She didn’t know. “It’s dangerous right now, sure, but you are danger, Eithan. I want you because you’re—”

  “What?” And now he sounded hurt.

  “Dangerous,” she whispered. “You’re exciting. And you want me, and how could I be satisfied with some kind of normal man after the way you’ve looked at me, after what it feels like to put my life in your hands, to give you my blood, to feel all that risk. You make me feel alive in a way that nothing else makes me feel. And killing Ciaska, it was supposed to be that too. The ultimate risk. The ultimate challenge. I need to do something that matters, that feels—”

  “I don’t want to be a danger to you. You know it’s the last thing I want.” He was subdued.

  She turned to him in the darkness, but she couldn’t see him. She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. She did know that he would never hurt her. She trusted him. Maybe he wasn’t danger after all, maybe he was only the illusion of danger, a monster who looked frightening but was actually safe, a monster she could control and tame. Maybe…

  She touched his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who chased you. I’m the one who killed to get to you. I cut down anything in my way. You have every right to think I’m—”

  “I don’t.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Forget what I said. I’m not thinking very clearly right now. We’re about to die, and I…”

  He kissed her again.

  She clung to him.

  He pulled away. “I don’t know why I did that. I wanted to not do that. I wanted…”

  Her stomach suddenly growled. Loudly. She laughed, a breathy, wild, helpless sound.

  “Gods,” he said.

  Outside, the nightmares pushed against the rocks, making them shift and settle.

  She burrowed into his cold flesh. “Let’s hold each other, then. Just that?”

  He sucked in a breath, and his voice rumbled when he spoke, maybe because her ear was against his chest. “You’ll try to rest?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  His arm tightened around her waist.

  She shut her eyes. She yawned. “Wake me later, so that you can sleep.”

  “I don’t need to sleep,” he said.

  Of course he didn’t. She laughed softly again, wrapping her arms around the breadth of him, holding on to him as tightly as she could. He wasn’t just some adventure for her to conquer, some dangerous monster to tame. He was Eithan. She felt a well of something fierce but tender open up in the center of her heart, and it was bottomless. It was more terrifying than the nightmares, but it was sweet too, and she found she didn’t have it in her to fight it.

  Sleep came for her. She didn’t fight that either.

  * * *

  “There you are,” said Absalom. He was outside the palace looking for Jonas. He’d found the women who Jonas had tied up from the play practice. Jonas had released them, but they didn’t know where he’d gone after that.

  Absalom had found Septimus immediately afterwards, and the other knight had trailed after him, cursing him and slinging vitriol at him
for losing Lian. Septimus was panicked, and Absalom had tried to calm him down, but Septimus wasn’t keen on listening.

  Jonas was moving through dark vines of briars, the plant that grew the fruit. He was hacking away at them with an ax, calling Lian’s name. His voice was breaking. He looked up at the sound of Absalom’s voice.

  “Absalom?” said Jonas.

  “I tried to get to both of you before this sham of a search party started,” said Absalom. “But you both ran off before I could.”

  “Sham?” said Septimus.

  “Sham?” said Jonas.

  “Lian’s fine,” said Absalom. “He’s safe.”

  Jonas slumped, resting his ax on the ground, shaking his head. “Oh, thank the gods.”

  Septimus punched Absalom in the face. “You godstaken jackhole.”

  Absalom staggered backward, touching his face. “Ow.”

  “You could have told me this earlier,” said Septimus, both hands clenched, looking likely to hit Absalom again.

  “You wouldn’t let me get a word in.” Absalom put both of his hands up to ward Septimus off.

  Jonas stepped between them. “Enough of that. Absalom, explain.”

  Absalom took a deep breath. “I took him out of here. He’s gone, hidden away somewhere, and I told her that Lian was missing. So, what we’ll do is we’ll all search for him for a while, and then we’ll never find him, and—”

  “Where did you hide him?” said Septimus.

  “Who’s with him?” said Jonas.

  “Philo,” said Absalom.

  “Are they in the fortress?” said Septimus.

  “Well… yes,” said Absalom.

  “Oh, she’ll never think to look there.” Septimus gave him a withering look.

  Absalom considered. “Right. I suppose it’s not a great hiding spot. And with everything that’s going on lately, she might suspect that we’re pulling one over on her and go looking for him. It was the best I could do on short notice. I’m not Eithan, you know. I’m not good at coming up with elaborate deceptions.”

  “Doesn’t have to be elaborate,” said Septimus. “We just have to sell it.”

  What would Eithan do?

  Absalom stroked his chin. “I’ve got an idea.”

  * * *

  Nicce awoke to the sound of rocks sliding and Eithan’s hoarse cry. She got to her feet, feeling sore and thirsty and weak. The rest hadn’t done her much good, had it?

  She tried to summon her light, but it took two tries, and then it was dimmer than usual.

  It illuminated a large hole in the pile of rocks that held back the nightmares. Tentacles and spindly legs were reaching through it.

  Eithan was climbing up the rocks, using his sword to cut at the creatures.

  Shrieks came from the other side, the creatures withdrawing.

  But then the rocks shifted under Eithan’s feet, and it all came tumbling down.

  Nicce cried out, running over to help him up.

  The nightmares were on them. The creatures came in the wake of the falling rock, all tendrils and slither and teeth. There was no time to talk or to think. All they could do was fight. She had the sword she’d found, and Eithan had his. They took the creatures as they came, stabbing, parrying, swiping, cutting.

  No matter how many they killed, there were more behind it.

  It went on and on.

  Nicce couldn’t say for how long.

  At one point, she and Eithan were back to back, slicing at a creature whose limbs seemed to swim in the air, entangling both of them, wrapping painfully around their limbs. It was all either of them could do to cut the tentacles away, and they were both out of breath and sweaty.

  Finally, Eithan found its head and stabbed its eye. The first time he stabbed it, nothing happened, but the fourth time he stabbed it, it finally started to go still. She helped him, stabbing its head from the other side, and it went down.

  But it was no victory, because there were other creatures in its wake.

  They gave ground. Nicce didn’t notice it as it was happening but before long, they were back against the other rock pile, nowhere else to go, and a sea of nightmares in front of them.

  They fought on for another eternity.

  And then Nicce’s light went out.

  She couldn’t sustain it any longer. She’d watched it dimming for a while, but she couldn’t bear the thought of putting it out, because the light kept the monsters back far enough that they didn’t smother both of them, that they had a wide berth for their swords. And it was good to have the light, to be able to see.

  But finally, it gave out, and Nicce felt herself sapped of energy. All she wanted to do was give up. She began to think that the mass of legs and squirming things ahead of her looked like dark oblivion. She began to long for the creatures to strangle her or to tear her limb from limb, because at least it would be over. At least she wouldn’t have to stay on her feet, to keep holding this heavy sword, to swing it and cut and fight.

  But Nicce had felt this before. She hadn’t trained long hours with the Guild to be some kind of shrinking flower. She had been trained to go to the edge of her reserves and keep going, and she did. She fought on, and Eithan fought beside her, though she could tell that he was tiring as well.

  He’d been hurt at some point. He was covered in his cold black blood. It was all over his face. Or maybe that was the blood of the creatures. Maybe their blood was black too. She didn’t know. But she could hear him wheeze, and she felt him stumble, and she knew they weren’t going to last too much longer.

  They were forced back into the pile of rocks at their back. They had no more ground to give.

  The rocks shifted behind them. Nicce thought they might fall on them, burying them both or crushing their legs or something horrid. She wondered if it would be worse to be fed on by the nightmares while her legs were smashed into excruciating pain and she was pinned down, unable to move.

  The rocks were falling down around them.

  One bounced two inches from Nicce’s face. She would have cried out if she’d had the energy for it.

  More shifting was happening. That rock wall was coming down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Absalom walked behind Septimus, head down. Jonas hadn’t come with them. They thought it would be better if they weren’t all together, so that she wouldn’t immediately think they were conspiring together.

  They’d had a hard time finding Ciaska.

  Absalom had thought she’d call a search party and then hole up and wait for news about Lian, but she was out of the palace in the thick of it herself, looking for Lian along with everyone else.

  They’d had to ask four different people where she was.

  But now, they could see her up ahead, batting away bits of purple fog as she screamed Lian’s name. Other members of the court were behind her, also yelling for Lian. That is, until they turned and saw what Septimus was carrying, and their voices died in their throats.

  As they approached Ciaska, it grew quieter and quieter.

  Finally, hers was the only voice calling. She seemed to notice this and she straightened. When she turned, Absalom could see she’d been about to issue a scolding to the other members of the court. But she saw Septimus instead, and her expression froze.

  Septimus fell to his knees.

  Absalom hadn’t wanted it to be Septimus doing this, delivering the message, but Septimus had argued fiercely about it being him. He said that Ciaska would believe it if Septimus was destroyed, because his emotions were blunted. If I’m sobbing, she’ll buy it, Septimus had snapped as he cut his hand and let his blood drip all over one of Lian’s shirts.

  Sure, Absalom agreed with that. But… could Septimus sob?

  She’s made me sob, said Septimus with a tight smile. Don’t act as though she hasn’t stripped you bare as well.

  Absalom hadn’t responded. He’d tried not to think of the images that Septimus’s pronouncement had called to his mind, but instead, what he though
t about was how awful it was that they knew that Lian’s blood was as black as theirs was. They had seen their son bleed too often.

  He would never bleed like that again, not if Absalom could help it.

  “What is this?” Ciaska’s voice sounded funny. Absalom didn’t know if he’d ever heard her speak that way before. The pitch was all wrong.

  “We killed it.” Septimus’s voice wavered. “We tried to cut him free of its belly, but there…” His voice dropped. “There wasn’t anything left.”

  Ciaska reached down and snatched Lian’s shirt from Septimus. It was only a remnant of a shirt, ripped and frayed and spattered in blood. She turned it this way and that as if she couldn’t make sense of what was in her hands. “What are you saying?”

  “It was a grithoag,” Absalom said quietly. “The ones with the claws, you know.”

  Ciaska looked up at him.

  Absalom wiped at his eye with the heel of his hand. “This is my fault, Exalted One. I let him out of my sight—”

  “Shut up.” Ciaska was whispering.

  It was a gamble to keep emphasizing his fault in this. She might agree with him and kill him on the spot. He was hoping she’d send him to the dungeons, and that Eithan would still be all right, and that together they could figure out some way to actually kill Ciaska once and for all.

  But Ciaska only clutched the scrap of Lian’s clothing to her chest and breathed, “Show me. Take me there.”

  They took her to where they’d killed a grithoag. It was in pieces, chopped up into nothing but gore and guts and bone.

  She knelt on the ground and sorted through the bloody mess. She was shaking.

  Absalom and Septimus stood over her, quiet, watching. For Absalom’s part, his sheer terror was enough to keep the tears flowing out of his eyes. He didn’t know how Septimus managed it.

  Finally, Ciaska stood up. She looked at both of them, and Absalom thought the goddess’s eyes were glittering with tears too. Not that she didn’t cry when it suited her, but usually only when she was throwing childish tantrums. This was different. She didn’t say a word. She swept past them, her steps heavy and exaggerated. She wandered in the direction of the palace, leaving them behind.

  * * *

  Eithan threw himself into Nicce, pushing her body out of the way.