Page 9 of Unleashing Mayhem
The same restrictions did not apply to his shadows.
Nightmare gathered them from the corners of the room and—after a moment of considering the benefits of restraint—harnessed them to sweep lightly over his summoner’s clothed shoulders, down to his covered hands. Nightmare kept the touch light, so as not to startle the shy human. His summoner looked down at his arms, watching the darkness play over him. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand where his sense of recognition came from.
So Nightmare helped him.
The next time his summoner glanced up, Nightmare summoned his skull visage from the ether, switching it on and off again, quick as a blink.
He was rewarded by his sweet summoner stepping forward with a gasp. “I’ve seen you. I-Iknowyou.”
As he should. Nightmare had saved Matteo Caruso from the monsters in his dreams often enough. He’d sipped the young man’s fear like the finest ambrosia, one made of burned lemon twists and candied citrus peels left to rot.
The recognition seemed to embolden Matteo. He squared his slim shoulders, although he made no attempt to shake off Nightmare’s shadows. “I want to make a deal with you.” His fists clenched around their folded sleeves. “Will you— Do you want to make a deal with me too?”
There it was. A juicy summer lemon, ripe for the plucking. Nightmare kept his smile contained, nodding once. “Tell me your terms, summoner.”
“I need someone to keep me company,” Matteo said in a rush, the words almost blending together in his eagerness to get them out.
“Contracts need an end point,” Nightmare told him gently.
“Until I feel safe.”
It wasn’t a lie exactly, but itwasan untruth. A false covering over the real heart of the matter. But the falsehood didn’t raise Nightmare’s ire; his summoner wasn’t required to bare his soul at their very first meeting. Not when Nightmare would soon have a piece of that soul for himself.
But the terms were still unsatisfactory.
If Nightmare had his way, young Matteo Caruso would be feeling as safe as could be sooner than he might think possible.
“Why do you feel unsafe?” Nightmare asked. “What do you fear?”
“Everything,” Matteo answered immediately. “Noise. Shadows. The dark. My own mind.”
“My power would be wasted on imaginary things that go bump in the night.” Nightmare paused, then added, “I’m overqualified.”
A little joke, but Matteo didn’t laugh. He seemed instead suddenly terrified that Nightmare would refuse his offer outright. “I need a protector,” he said desperately, and never before had Nightmare seen a human look both so fearful and so brave as this young man standing in front of a monster, begging it to stay by his side.
“From what?” Nightmare prompted.
“From the people who would hurt me.”
They were getting somewhere now. Nightmare leaned forward until his antlers were brushing against the edges of his circle. “Names, sweet. Give me names.”
Matteo only stared, reluctance painting his features.
Nightmare tutted. “I’m losing patience.”
“Dominico Caruso,” Matteo blurted, quick as could be.
Nightmare’s shadows savored the taste of the soon-to-be dead man on Matteo’s tongue. Now he did smile fully, a flashof sharp teeth. “And what would make you feel safe from this Dominico Caruso?”
Matteo raised his clenched fists, clutching them against his stomach. “I want him dead,” he said fiercely. When Nightmare only waited for more, Matteo continued, “I want him—I want him ripped apart. Him and anyone who follows him. Anyone who hurts people on his orders. And I want you to do it for me.” He was panting by the end of his short speech, the color high in his cheeks, as if it had taken immense effort to get the words out.
Nightmare stood slowly. He gave weight to his shadows, using them to push Matteo closer to his circle.
“I accept your terms. I, Sarkaron of the demon realm, will rip apart Matteo Caruso’s enemies, until there is no one left for him to fear.” Nightmare tapped a talon against his confinement. “Put your hand in the circle.”
“I didn’t tell you my name?” Matteo blurted, half statement and half question.
Nightmare inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You didn’t need to. We were already acquainted. Your hand, sweet.”
