Page 42 of The Nightmare's Kiss

Part of my mind screams for me to just drop to the tile, go into the fetal position, and pray for mercy. But it’s the same part of my brain that told me to fear the Nightmare’s claws and sharp teeth—an instinct that isn’t always right. My heart whispers otherwise, and I have to trust it.

I set my shoulders, take a deep breath, and look at the Siren. She looks at me with her too-far-apart eyes and beautiful, expressionless face.

“We’re friends of Belle,” I say. No reaction. I swallow and try again. “Belle, the tech who helped free you.”

“I know who Belle is, human,” she says in a sweet, musical voice.

I force a wavery smile. “See? So we have a mutual friend.”

She regards me, unimpressed. Behind me, I hear the shuffling sound of the Minotaur moving forward. Dr. Wright presses up against my back, her breath hitching.

“I’m here to save my own research subject,” I say, the words rushing out of me without time to think about them. “X-13. The Nightmare.” I swallow, fear making my head swim. “He’s in danger, and I have to go to him. Because I… I love him.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dr. Wright’s head jerk toward me in surprise, but I keep my gaze fixed on the Siren. “So please, let us pass.”

Once I’m done, the silence rings in my ears. The Siren’s striking, cold face does not show a hint of a reaction.

Behind us, the Minotaur roars and charges. I scream, throwing myself to the floor with Dr. Wright beside me.

Then the Siren’s mouth opens, and song pours out. All around us, the world seems to slow to a stop.

All at once my fear is gone, replaced by a pleasant haze. There is no bellowing minotaur or screaming alarm, just the music coming from the Siren’s mouth. The song is wordless, but if I listen hard, I almost feel like I can decipher some meaning in it. I stare reverently up at the Siren as she steps toward me. I want her to touch me, to hold me, to look into my eyes and keep singing to me forever and ever.

I reach for her as she approaches, fingers brushing against the scales of her legs, and am distantly aware of Dr. Wright doing the same, her face blank like she’s sleepwalking. But the Siren steps past us, toward the Minotaur, who is as frozen as we are. His beady eyes are fixed on her. She stops in front of the creature and reaches up to caress its hairy face.

Then the Siren’s mouth closes, and the song stops. I blink, confused before realization and fresh terror wash over me. I crawl away from the two monsters on my hands and knees. Beside me on the floor, Dr. Wright shakes off the same trance with a shuddery breath.

The Minotaur, too, sheds its momentary placidness. Its eyes fill with rage, and its ears go flat against its head. But before it can move, the Siren shifts her hand to rest around its thick neck and snaps it in one clean motion.

She steps aside with effortless grace as its huge body thuds to the floor. Dr. Wright and I stay on the floor, staring, as the Siren slowly turns to look back at us.

She smiles, revealing a mouth lined with multiple layers of sharp teeth, like a shark.

“Run, humans,” she says.

Dr. Wright and I both scramble to our feet and obey, sprinting down the hallway deeper into the Facility.

My mind is too full of animal fear to form coherent thoughts, but eventually Dr. Wright yanks me to a stop. She tries to swipe her keycard with trembling hands, but it rejects it, again and again. Finally, I grab Ezra’s from my pocket, and it lets us through.

She runs inside, and I fling myself in after her, breathing hard. We’re back in the abandoned control room, with the many screens and extensive control panel. As the door shuts behind us, she sinks into a metal chair. I stumble against the wall, a hand clutching my chest and the racing heart within.

“Holy fucking shit,” I say.

“Agreed,” Dr. Wright says. Her voice is steady, but her hands tremble as she raises them and runs them through her hair. “We made it.” She takes a couple of deep breaths and then pulls herself up tall. “Now we can exit through the back and—”

“No,” I say vehemently. “First, we free the Nightmare.”

She blinks at me, eyebrows rising before her expression returns to its usual, calm state. “Are you out of your mind?” she asks.

“No.” I gulp down more air, trying to collect myself enough to form coherent thoughts. “I meant what I said back there. I… I care about him. I’m not leaving without him.” Now that I’m physically safe, my anxiety for him rushes back. “He wasn’t in his cell. Where is he?”

Dr. Wright looks at me wearily. “Director Ramsey has him,” she says. She hesitates and then clamps her mouth shut.

“Tell me,” I say, even though my heart is already hammering with fear. “Tell me what that means.”

She sighs. “You were a last-ditch effort to work with the Nightmare,” she says. “And I would argue—didargue—that you were a success. You got through to him, formed a connection. You didn’t succumb to the nightmares. But the director disagrees. He thinks you proved that it is too dangerous to let anyone interact with him. He thinks the time has come to learn more through…other methods.”

“Other methods,” I repeat hollowly.

“Dissection,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “And then autopsy.”

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