Page 16 of Guarded By the Nightmare

He heaved a sigh. “You’re going to be dead in seven days, my queen. So no, I don’t really care about people seeing me—and, neither should you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said, phasing out of my car.

He followed me up to my apartment on the stairs in front of the security cameras and I guessed he did have a point. Now that I was signed up to die, it wouldn’t really matter if I left any evidence behind.

It was just hard to get out of that mode. And I couldn’t stomach the thought of someone stopping me before I’d gotten my revenge. I was at a point where I didn’t give a shit about what’d happened to me—or whatwouldhappen, clearly. But Ella? Ella needed me to stick around until the fourth quarter.

I unlocked my door and let us both inside, and Sylas diffused himself at once, nearly disappearing, until I heard his voice from my bedroom.

“Is this you?” he asked. I followed the sound, till I caught him rifling through the photos I’d tucked into the edges of my mirror frame. I hardly recognized myself in them anymore—I mostly kept them for the images of Ella.

Every picture I’d had of Trent and myself I’d burned in the trash.

“It used to be.”

“And the other woman’s room?” he asked.

“My friend. She’s why you’re here.” I never went into Ella’s room anymore. I had enough money to cover both halves of our lease—my parents had died in a tragic car accident my first year here, when a semi-truck swept into their lane. I’d gotten a massive payout, which I wasn’t going to be around to spend.

But Ella’s parents were still alive. They’d moved out most of her personal items, but what little they’d left behind—her bed, and a couple of scraps of clothing—I’d decided to leave where they were at, like a shrine.

I’d stolen some of her makeup before they’d come in too, so I still had a pot of Perfect Blue Pigment out on my vanity, and her toothbrush—which’d gone unused since May 25th—was still in the holder beside mine on my sink.

“She was pretty,” Sylas intoned, from beside me, startling me. I’d forgotten he was there.

“Yeah, she was.” I bit my lips. I tried not to think about the way she’d looked when I’d last seen her, because it hurt too bad.

“But you,” he went on, sounding somewhat clinical. “What happened?” He plucked out a photo of me that someone had printed off on their mini-Polaroid when I’d been at a club. I’d been bleach blonde then, with smokey eyes and happily smiling red lips, looking sultry in a sheer top with a black bra on underneath.

It was pretty different than the Amish granddaughter look I was going for now.

“Life?” I said sarcastically, to deflect him. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work.

“A lot of people go their entire lives without murdering a soul.” He drew himself in so that his form had crisper boundaries, even as he went on trampling over all of mine. “So what kind of life?” he pressed.

“As long as you eat, why do you care?” I asked, shooing him away. I wanted to change clothes. Look at the mark on my arm. Maybe take a shower. Maybe take an Ativan.

“Because you only have a limited time left on this earth, Mina. And for as much as you are able, I want you to live it with me.”

I whirled on him and frowned. He was between me and my bedroom door. My bed was behind me, and a particular kind of terror wound its tail around my spine. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to murder people wearing this,” he said, gesturing at my outfit. “Or wearing that?” He reached out to tap my clubbing photo.

“Are you giving me super-villain dressing tips?”

“It’s one thing when you have a hope of escape. You might as well blend into the background, with thoughts of somehow getting a new identity,” he said, before shaking his head gravely. “But since you don’t, what’s the harm in living it up while you can, so to speak?”

I huffed. “I’m not that girl anymore.” That girl—stupid and innocent and carefree—was gone. She’d never come back, even if Sylas weren’t in my bedroom.

“Yes—but you’re not this, either,” he said, giving my black sweater a disparaging look. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“How the fuck would you know what suits me?”

“Because I’m the only creature alive who has witnessed other people in your exact same shoes,” he said, with a patience that was annoying. “You’re between life and death, Mina. You’re different from the rest of humanity right now, whether you like it or not. Shed your skin and become something glorious with me.”

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