Page 61 of Sweet Nightmare

“Tentacle?” Izzy fills in.

And technically, I suppose she’s right. The monster’s lower body is made up of close to a hundred tentacle-shaped limbs. Except where most tentacles have some kind of suction cup on them, it has razor blades. Dozens and dozens of razor blades. Which explains the scratches on every available surface in this place.

What the ever-loving hell?

I know the school always needs money, but there has to be a better way to get it than to volunteer to take care of creatures like this.

That awful snake monster got out earlier. What the hell would we do if this thing actually slipped its chain and got onto the school grounds?

“I’m going to—” I break off as it skitters, still upside down, across the ceiling straight toward us.

It makes a clicking sound as it moves—the razor blades skipping along the ceiling—and as it gets closer, revulsion turns my stomach. Because it truly is the grossest-looking thing I’ve ever seen.

To begin with, its top half looks a lot like one of those hairless cats—oversize, pointy ears, wide black eyes, and wrinkly skin. It’s even got two small limbs with what look like paws attached to the ends. None of which is bad at all—until you get to the elongated snout and the two-foot-long teeth protruding from its mouth in all directions. Not to mention the fact that the wrinkly skin is not just hairless but also translucent just below it.

And then there are the tentacles. So, so, so many translucent tentacles with greenish yellow blood running just below the surface and—now that it’s closer—I can see what I thought were razor blades are actually some kind of knife-edged shells.

All in all, a living nightmare if I’ve ever seen one.

And it’s looking straight at me.

“We need to feed it and get the hell out of here,” I tell Izzy as I scoot gingerly toward the food cabinet and try really hard not to notice that it is scooting right along with me, the scraping of its shells over the ceiling like nails down a chalkboard.

“So get busy!” Izzy snarls. “I’ll hold it off.”

I start to ask her if she’s sure, but she’s already moved to cover me, knives at the ready. And while I’d tend to doubt nearly anyone else who thought they could handle this thing, there’s something in Izzy’s eyes that tells me she’s more than ready for the challenge. I’m seriously not sure if that thing is bravery or sociopathy, but right now, I don’t really care. I just want to do the job we came here to do and then get both of us out of this shithole alive.

I’ve learned through the years that there are very few people I can trust on this island, but now seems as good a time as any to expand that faith in others. So instead of demanding to be the one to fend off the beast, a task I’m pretty sure I’m unprepared for, I take Izzy at her word and race toward the food cabinet.

The second I turn my back on it, I expect to feel the monster’s sharp teeth sinking into my jugular as its razor-tipped talons tear me limb from limb. But, amazingly, I make it to the cabinet completely untouched—though the growls and clicking sounds behind me make me think the same can’t be said for Izzy.

A particularly loud squeal of pain has my heart threatening to explode in my chest, but when I glance over my shoulder, it’s to find Izzy still standing, her own fangs bared in a snarl. It’s all the reassurance I need, at least for now, and I yank open the cabinet doors and pull down two giant bags of food.

With the chricklers, I usually divide up the food into their many troughs, making sure that it’s spread out for them all throughout the enclosure. They are notoriously picky about where they eat and who they eat in front of, including each other. But I know very little about this squid thing and care even less. As long as it actually has food out in the open, I don’t care if it eats it or not.

Especially since it just wrapped a dozen of its sharp-ass tentacles around Izzy’s right arm and is currently trying to wrestle her knife away from her.

“Hey!” I yell to get its attention, then immediately wish I hadn’t as it starts click-clacking its way across the ceiling toward me. And while that was what I was hoping it would do, I didn’t expect it to drag Izzy along in its wake. Which is exactly what it is currently doing—apparently having a hundred tentacles means it can come after me while holding on to Izzy and still have enough to spare to take on most of the senior class.

Izzy struggles against the monster using what looks like every ounce of her vampire strength to try to hold her ground. But the thing is strong, really strong, and the more she struggles, the deeper its tentacles cut into Izzy’s arm.

She’s easily just as pissed as the squid thing now, and as it continues to pull her along, she comes out swinging. The creature made her drop the knife in her right hand, but she’s still got the one in her left, and she swings it, in a powerful uppercut, straight toward the tentacle holding on to her.

The knife connects, slicing deep into the tentacle but not actually cutting it off. The monster responds with a bellow of rage so loud it makes my ears ring. And then it starts wrapping its tentacles around her, one after another.

They slide around her legs, her hips, her waist, her diaphragm, her chest, her neck, her arms. Nearly every part of her is covered in disgusting tentacles. Nearly every part of her is being cut into by razor-sharp shells.

Izzy doesn’t scream or cry, doesn’t make so much as a sound. But I know that it’s cutting her, know that she’s hurting. I can hear the harshness of her breathing, can see the blood falling onto the ground near her feet.

And that’s before it starts to squeeze.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

NAUGHTY AND

NOT SO KNIFE

The blood turns from droplets into a stream, and though Izzy still doesn’t say anything, I know I have to do something, fast.

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