Page 45 of The Nightmare's Kiss

“I am not going back to that cell,” X snarls. When I look at him, I have to suppress a shudder; he looks less human now, his bones standing out starkly like they’re trying to press through his skin. His eyes flash metallic and pupilless under the lights. “I am a warrior. I would rather die a warrior’s death.”

“No one is dying today, X,” Dr. Wright says, sounding impossibly calm given the situation. She looks at him, and, even more impossibly, smiles. “Well, not us, at least. But it is time to fight.”

“What?” I look back and forth between them. “You can’t possibly mean to take them on. I… I can’t ask you to do that.” I don’t know how strong X is, but I do know that there are alotof people with very large guns on that screen. “You should run while you can.”

“This isn’t for you, darling,” Dr. Wright says crisply. She holds the alien’s gaze until he nods, and then turns to look at me. “Our plan hinges on this too. If the director has been paying attention, then he already knows I freed X. There is no turning back.” She reaches up and lets her hair down, shaking it out around her shoulders. “We will hold them off as long as we can. You’ll have to deal with the director and free the Nightmare on your own.”

How? I want to ask. But this is my fight, and my responsibility. I nod. “I will,” I say. “And we’ll come help you as soon as we can.”

“We can handle ourselves. Focus on your own monster.” She slips a hand into X’s, and without a further word, they walk out the door.

I watch them, and part of me wants to beg Dr. Wright not to go. To stay and help me, lend me her cool self-assurance and clear head. But I know that’s unreasonably selfish. This mess is because of me, and it’s my turn to take control of the situation. So I take a deep breath, push open the door, and head deeper into the facility alone.

The rest of the building felt abandoned, but this area feels even emptier. The air is colder, the lights dimmer, the walls and floor dark gray instead of white. A swollen silence fills the space, like the moment before something terrible happens in a horror movie. Director Ramsey’s personal working space… I shudder to imagine what happens here.

I expect to find a nasty surprise waiting around every corner, but just like the screens in the control room showed, these halls are empty. I walk through the silence until I hear something staticky and strange. I follow the sound, my dread growing as it becomes louder and louder, turning into a high-pitched screech, and find the door at the end. It waits open.

A trap if I’ve ever seen one, but I have no choice but to step inside.

The moment I’m through the door, my eyes catch on the tools hanging on the far wall, and I know this is the room where I saw the director and Somnus. The light is shockingly bright, enough to make my eyes water. Quickly, my gaze shifts to the table and Somnus, strapped on it. He’s limp at this point, his body strangely still and solid, matte black like the first time I used Sound 3 on him.

I rush over and fumble for the leather straps holding his arms and legs. When I touch him, his skin is strangely cold and hard, stiff like a corpse. He doesn’t respond to my presence. I wish I could shut off that awful noise, which must be hurting him, but I can’t. “Please,” I whisper. “Wake up. I’m here, I’m finally here. Just like I promised.”

It’s strange, to think that I’ve never touched the Nightmare in real life before. He smells the same way he does in my dreams, that familiar scent of smoke and spice. He finally stirs weakly as I release the binds and try to lift him up. His eyes twitch toward me, and wispy tendrils of shadow reach for me. But it’s obvious he’s in no state to fight.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur to him. “Hang on just a little while longer.”

As I help him sit up, the door slams shut behind me. I turn and find the director there, a gun in his hand and aimed at me. Somnus shudders at my side, trying to lurch forward, but only my arm around his waist prevents him from falling. That awful noise is still screaming, keeping him weak.

“You arrogant girl,” Director Ramsey says, pure hatred in his eyes. “I almost thought you couldn’t possibly be foolish enough to take the bait, but Ethan was right. You did.” He shakes his head. “You really thought you could waltz in here and take my property?”

“He’s not property,” I say. “You’re the arrogant one for ever thinking he couldbelongto you.” I gesture to the facility around us. “And that goes for all of them. It was only a matter of time before this crashed down on your head.”

He laughs, the sound cold and mirthless. “You really think you can bring down everything I’ve built?You? Some pathetic girl with a twisted crush on a creature that would kill you at the first opportunity?” His lips twist into a sneer. “You’re lucky I caught you and stopped you from getting the whole damn town killed. That thing slaughtered people when it escaped in the eighties. You really want to unleash a creature like that on Ash Valley?”

I think of those photographs that Dr. Wright showed me—twisted bodies with missing eyes, their faces distorted by terror—but push the memory away and tighten my grip around Somnus’s waist. “He was hurt and scared and desperate,” I say. “I know it was wrong, and so does he. He won’t do it again.”

“You think you know so much,” the director says. “But you’re basing this off nothing. Worse than nothing. You’re basing it off sick fuckingfantasies. Offdreams.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Even if I hadn’t lured you here to get rid of you, that creature would’ve done my work for me eventually.”

“Dreams,” I whisper, “are more powerful than you think.” I will not let this man make me doubt myself. I will not let anyone do that to me again. I know who I am, and I know what I stand for, and I know that what I feel for Somnus is real. I trust him. And more importantly, I trust myself. “You might be right. He might hurt me, someday. But lovealwaysgives someone the power to hurt you. It isalwaysfrightening. But that’s what it’s all about…finding someone you can trust to keep your heart safe.”

He stares at me a few moments longer. Then he shakes his head and pulls the trigger. The gunshot is so loud, it drowns out the screeching over the speakers.

I don’t have time to move. No time to think. I didn’t believe he would actually shoot me, so there’s nothing I can do except flinch, shut my eyes, and brace myself for the pain.

But it doesn’t come. After a moment, I open my eyes again and see, to my shock, a giant hand of shadow raised in front of me like a shield, extending from the Nightmare leaning heavily against my side. His claws slowly open, and a crushed bullet clinks to the floor. Then his body sags, his energy exhausted, his form collapsing into a wisp of a shadow.

The director’s eyes bulge. His fingers tighten around the trigger again, but this time I’m prepared. I rush at him with a shout of fury. There is no logic in it, no plan, just anger. Pure feral rage, powered by all of the times I’ve felt scared and helpless in the face of this man and others like him. I raise a hand and wisps of shadows, the remnants of Somnus, drift over my arm and the backs of my fingers and extend in dark claws above my nails. I—we—swipe at the director and claw bloody rivets into his face and chest.

Director Ramsey screams, stumbling backward, the gun dropping from his hand and clattering to the tile.

I keep advancing on him as he retreats. Ifeelthe Nightmare looming behind me, see the sharp-toothed, snarling shadow we cast over the wounded director, and feel a wicked glee rising within me. It is like the Nightmare gives life to my anger, gives an outlet for all of the pent-up frustration. So many times, in my life, I’ve been made to feel small; now, with Somnus at my side, I feelpowerful.

It is a beautiful, freeing sensation, to be one with Somnus. Neither of us would be strong enough to face him alone, but together? Together we are invincible.

“You stupid little bitch,” the director spits even as he retreats from us. His back hits the wall, and he cowers as blood drips from his wound, but still there’s pure fury in his eyes. It must grate, to be taken down by someone you feel nothing but contempt for.

I grin at him. As the Nightmare brushes a shadowy tendril against the back of my neck, I can almost hear his dark chuckle in my ear.

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