Page 31 of The Nightmare's Kiss

The next day, I go through the motions again, and then decide to dig a little deeper. Nobody has confronted me for unusual activity yet, so I assume I’m getting away with it so far.

“You told me once that you have many names,” I say, propping my chin up with one hand and holding the phone with the other. The Nightmare sits on the other side of the glass in his own chair made of shadow, imitating my posture. “But you wouldn’t tell me what they are. Will you tell me now?”

He blinks. He clearly wasn’t expecting this question, but after a moment he nods.Some have called me Epiales, he says, carefully spelling out the name.Others, Somnus.

“Somnus,” I repeat in a whisper. “I like that one. Could I call you that from now on?”

He nods. Then his gaze goes a little distant, and I’m dying to ask for more details about what he’s remembering, but he surprises me by saying,I have also been called Mara, in fact.

“What?” Now I’m the one who’s surprised. I almost forget to translate, and then hurriedly do so in order to continue with the conversation. “Really?”

Yes. In Old Norse. It was a word for a creature that brought nightmares.

“Ah. Like an old-school sleep paralysis demon,” I say, remembering the research I did in our early days together. It feels very far away now.

“Is that what you are, then? Are you a demon?” I ask it playfully, but my stomach gives a nervous little twist as I realize I’m not sure how he’ll respond.

But he shakes his head vehemently.Not demon.

“But you do bring nightmares. Why?”

He pauses, looking thoughtful.I do not know, he says, and then frowns, frustrated, clearly trying to think of a way to communicate what he wants to say.

“It is in my…heart?” I translate, tilting my head. “Are you saying…it is just your nature?”

He nods, relief clear in his features.

“I understand,” I say. “Some would call what you do malicious.” Again I sense that I’m treading on dangerous ground, but I need to do this. I’m trying to prove not only that the Nightmare is conscious and intelligent, but that he is not a threat or a monster that people should be afraid of. It’s true that he has sins to atone for, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be locked up in a windowless room and experimented on for the rest of his life. I’m not sure if he can ever be integrated fully into human society, but I’m certain he deserves better than he gets in this place. And as he told me, he never harmed anyone until he was forced into captivity here. “Do you hate humans?”

No!He signs vehemently and frowns at me.Nightmares are part of life. Necessary.His shoulders lift in a silent sigh, and he struggles again to express what he wants to say through his limited sign language.

“Fear is human,” I mutter, and then, “Tofear isto behuman, is that what you want to say?” He nods. “I think you’re right. And nightmares don’t really hurt us. A common theory is that they even help prepare us for the real dangers of the physical world.”

He nods, then flashes me a sudden, wicked grin that gets my heart pounding.Some people enjoy fear.

“So does that mean you can bring good dreams too?” I ask, trying to keep us on task.

For you? Yes. Very good dreams.

Face heating up, I shut off the video.

After all, the quicker I get back home, the quicker I can fall asleep and show him exactly how I feel aboutthat.

Even though work is exciting enough to garner all of my attention, my weekends are starkly empty, aside from occasional visits to Cup o’ Happy in the morning. My parents notice how often I hole up in my room at home, just passing the time with TV shows and social media until I’m ready to sleep. I can tell that they’re concerned. I promise them I’m making friends at work, but as another Saturday rolls around, I find myself at a loss again.

I know they’re right. I can’t spend my whole life alternating between work and dreams, even though I want to. Sometimes it feels like real life pales in comparison to my time with the Nightmare.Somnus, as I’ve taken to calling him in our more intimate moments. But that’s no way to live.

I need to dosomethingtonight, if only to reassure my parents I’m not sinking into the deep, dark abyss of depression. But I’m not too keen on trying my hand at the Dustpan again, especially if it means running into Ethan. I could video chat with Amy and my other college buddies, but given the distance, our friendship has been reduced to mostly emojis on social media. Now that I’m considering staying in Ash Valley for a while, I need to build a lifehere. So, on a whim, I shoot a text over to Belle and Ezra, inviting them out for a casual dinner.

A couple hours later, I’m seated in a plasticky red corner booth at a local diner with them. I’m weirdly nervous and changed my outfit three times. We hang out for an hour every workday at lunch, but this is my first time meeting them outside of the Facility, other than that one unfortunate bar night with Belle.

Even dressed casually, with Belle in a cute floral minidress and Ezra in an anime tee and skinny jeans, they still stand out in the small-town vibes of this place. They both seem relieved when I join them in the booth.

“I drive by this place every day but I’ve never been inside,” Ezra says, perusing the laminated and slightly sticky menu with an enthusiasm the place does not deserve.

“Really?” I raise a brow. “I’m surprised. It’s the okay-est restaurant in town.”

“We’re not really encouraged to mingle with the locals,” he says, shrugging. “I mean, not that I particularly care about that sort of thing, but it was suggested that they might not be, ah, too friendly toward out-of-towners?”

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