Page 5 of The Nightmare's Kiss

“You can say that again.”

I take a sip of my drink and hum in pleasure, closing my eyes to savor the flavor. It’s deep and complex—sweet but not too sweet, with an underlying savory note that almost reminds me of… “Butter?” I say, opening my eyes.

“Ah, the maple brown butter latte,” Ethan says, with a nod at the specials board. “Bit rich for me, but I’ve heard it’s very popular. One of Eloise’s newest creations.”

I sigh, cupping my hands around the mug and taking another slow, meditative sip. This is the perfect remedy to the lingering bitterness of Ethan’s words to me. “She is a creative genius. A queen of coffee.”

Ethan grins. “I see your love of caffeine has not changed,” he says, leaning back in his chair and slinging an arm across the back. “You seem different, though. Better. More grounded.”

Ah. There it is. One of those comments that comes out in such a mild tone, like he’s being nice, when we both know that what he’s really implying is that there was something wrong with who I was before.Groundedis code formore mature, as though I should’ve orcould’vebeen “mature” when I was a teenager. Or maybe it’s code forless crazy, since that was another one of his favorites to throw at me. The sting is emphasized by his earlier implication that I can’t handle a “high-stress work environment.”

Once, it would’ve made me feel small. Now, I’m surprised by the ferocity of the anger that rises up within me. I clench my hand around my coffee mug, briefly entertain the thought of tossing the hot drink into his face, and force myself to take a sip instead. Breathe in, breathe out. I hate feeling so impotent, but if I show anger, he’ll only turn it against me. “How are your parents?” I ask once I lower my cup, and thankfully, he accepts the change in topic.

The conversation flows more easily than I thought it would from there, but each time I try to circle back around to the Facility and his work, he nudges me away so gently, I hardly realize I’m being redirected. It isn’t until he’s walking out the door and I’m staring at the bottom of my empty mug that I realize I didn’t get a single bit of information about the Facility…other than the fact that it’s too “high stress” for me.

And, of course, that makes me more determined than ever to find out the truth.

3

Chapter Three

I return to Cup o’ Happy the next day to start my research into the Facility anew. I’m much too proud to reach out to Ethan again, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to stop snooping, especially after the way he tried to brush me off over it. Where does he get off on implying he can handle a “high-stress” environment better than I could? Now Ihaveto find out what’s going on there, if only to prove to myself that he’s not doing anything nearly as important as he implied. It can’t be as cool and interesting as people think it is; it simply can’t be, if they were willing to hire someone like Ethan straight out of college. I have to debunk the theories. Plus, I have way too much time on my hands, and the Facility is the only interesting thing about this town.

And, if I’m being honest, Idesperatelyneed something to cling to right now to stop myself from falling into a well of despair. Refreshing my empty email inbox all day is going to make me sick, and I physically cannot bring myself to apply to more underpaid jobs.

But I want to dosomething—to learn, to apply myself somehow—and this seems like a perfectly decent coping mechanism. The thought of spiting my ex is just a delicious little cherry on top.

So I order a lavender latte and decide to start my impromptu investigation by interviewing Eloise. She’s a lifelong local, and it seems like as good a place to begin as any.

“So, random question,” I say, leaning over the counter to watch her make my drink. “Do you know anything about the Facility?”

Her hands go still, hovering near the machine, before resuming their work.

“Nobody knows anything about that place, honey,” she says, her voice carefully neutral.

“Sure, that’s what everyonesays, but it can’t be true,” I argue. “It’s been here for so long, so close. And you’ve lived in Ash Valley all your life, right?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmurs, her gaze focused on the coffee machine.

“You never learned anything about it?”

“Never did, never wanted to,” she says. “Place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“But if you had toguesswhat they’re doing in there—”

“I’d rather not,” she says, handing me my mug with a brittle smile. “Now move along please, honey. I love ya, but I’ve got work to do.”

The cafe is almost empty on a Tuesday afternoon, but I take the hint. Yet when I turn to make myself scarce, I find myself face-to-face with Blaire, wearing the same intense black makeup as last time I saw her. “Oh, uh, hi?”

“You’re asking about the Facility,” she says. There’s a gleam in her normally flat eyes that takes me by surprise. “I have some thoughts.”

“Really?” I glance over my shoulder at Eloise, who is pointedly ignoring us, and then usher Blaire over to a table in the corner. Instead of sitting, she looms menacingly over me while I sip my coffee. “So you know something?”

“Well, I’ve read all sorts of things on the forums,” she says. “It’s part of the reason I wanted to come here for the summer. I wanted to see it for myself. Of course, I haven’t gotten any closer than the fence. Yet. Did you know about the string of disappearances when the Facility first appeared here in the 1950s? Or the second time in the 80s?”

I lean forward, captivated despite the fact she sounds like a conspiracy theorist. “What disappearances?”

She looks me in the eye and whispers, “Exactly.”

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