Page 86 of Snatched By the Sandman

“How does it feel to havemein your nightmares?” I snarl above him.

He smirks, even in his sleep. “You always have been.”

I laugh like a mad, little Alice and wrap my clawed hands around his throat. “This is not a nightmare,” I hiss. “It’s the sweetest dream.”

“Do it,” he encourages, his voice a taunting whisper. “I’ll stalk your mind, your very soul, my little monster.”

Just as I squeeze my hands and draw blood with my claws, a deathly chill sweeps over the room, freezing me in place, and locking up my bones with a sense of terror.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him. Long black robe. Gleaming monstrous teeth, sharp and bearing a twisted smile. And a great staff with a jagged black sickle at the top.

Death!

Chapter 31

“Now, we will see how you fare against the chains of Death.”

MORPHEUS

“God Must Hate Me” by Catie Walker

“Last One Standing” by Skylar Gray

“Numb” by Linkin Park

Emotions surge through me as I sense Zenya, taking in her raw fury and the pain from the visit. I wonder how long it’s been since she remembered this cruel day. Perhaps she has always carried it with her. My sight is growing dimmer, but I see my brother most.

Nyxion must know her thoughts from where she is standing, her head lowered. Her dark anger is palpable—a storm brewing in her blood.

Hecate has vanished, leaving but a glittery trail of her magical essence. The Goddess must have a good reason for fleeing.

I listen as my brother confronts her, knowing his tense body language, and how his eyes never leave Zenya’s form. Concern and intensity flicker in his gaze, his chest lifting with pride. He fully believes she will make the right choice. He’s appealing to the better angels of her nature—no matter how dark and fallen.

Weaving my shadows around her, I lean in, fingers trailing up her arm until my hand discovers her shoulder. I remind her, “Every time you took another breath, another step up that mountain, you conquered him.”

Zachariah says three words. Three words are her undoing. Every thread of sanity has snapped.

Within seconds, Zenya has shifted into some primal creature of shadows, claws, and teeth. Nyxion reaches for her at the same moment that she cuts her father’s throat. I smell his blood in the air.

But when the slow formation of unmistakable needle ice creeps into the room, branching out in familiar vein patterns like the roots of a tree, Nyxion and I freeze. The room’s energy has turned from hot and bloodthirsty to ominous and cold.

We don’t need to see the figure. We sense him as we have sensed him from the beginning of our fucked up family.

Zenya is caught between these worlds, her hands still poised at her father’s throat. She turns to the sinister figure in his mysterious long black robe.

At noticing the face beyond the robe or the lack thereof—one even I may see since none can hide from Death—I bite back a groan, but Nyxion snorts.

Clearly, we know where you inherited your penchant for theatrics, Nyxion. Drama runs in our family.

Shut up, Morpheus.

Thanatos bares his gleaming teeth, each as long and sharp as fangs. He twists and twirls the sickle in his hand.

He is a bitter reminder of the laws that bind us all.

“Zenya,” Death addresses her in his deep, reverent tone that commands respect and fear. “You are not permitted to kill your father. If you do, I will take your soul with his.”

My brother snaps. Eyes flashing with fury, he launches himself at Thanatos, tackling the God of Death and driving him against the nearest wall with a force that shakes the very foundation of the prison. A storm of ice spirals around Zenya, threatening, preparing to spear her and take her soul.

---