Page 18 of Sweet Nightmares
“No.”
Without saying another word, he reached in and yanked her out, nearly pulling her arm out of the socket as he did. Then he slammed her against the wall, his hand around her neck.
“Why does he want the diary?”
“I don’t know,” she croaked.And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.
Jane was loyal to Nightmare. Despite everything, because in the two years that he possessed her, he had never crossed her boundaries, never hit her, and never even once raised his voice at her.
He wasn’t her protector because he barely cared for her. But he was her keeper, and while he didn’t always deserve her respect, she would give him her loyalty until he proved unworthy of it.
The man tightened his hand around her throat, obstructing her airway.
Nightmare, help. Help me.The words played in her mind on repeat. Over and over again because she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t fight—she couldn’t even move.
“I’ll give you one more chance until I kill you. What does Nightmare want with the diary?”
“One more chance than I’m offering you!” Nightmare roared, slamming into the man. “I don’t give people who touch my things any chances.”
And he ripped the man’s throat out with his teeth, causing blood to splatter on Jane’s face and her dinner to nearly climb up her esophagus.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” His furious glare landed on her.
“You commanded me to stay put.” Her voice was raspy. “A command that is still active, by the way. I couldn’t do anything. You left me defenseless.” The last cracked.
“Oh,”—his eyebrows shot up, and something unreadable crossed his features—“move freely.”
Then he turned and began to walk out. “Come with me.” His voice was low, but not cruel; it was more imploring than anything else. “I want you to see something.”
It wasn’t a compulsion this time. She could deny the request. But she didn’t. Instead, she followed Nightmare down the stairs.
A soft light poured from the basement, haloing the door. The glow was unnatural, but it didn’t seem evil. However, it did call to Jane, feeling like a mosaic of dreams, thoughts, and fleeting ideas. Behind the door wafted a soft melody played on the piano.
One of Nightmare’s strong hands pressed the door slowly open, revealing a striking image. A translucent woman, coated in a white, glowing light, sat at a piano, her fingers light and delicate on the keys.
Nightmare held open the door for Jane to enter, and because she didn’t believe he would intentionally put her in harm’s way—after all, he needed her as his anchor—Jane slowly stepped inside.
But her voice felt clogged. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t.
“Jane, this is Charlotte. She’s a—”
“A ghost trapped in this basement,” Charlotte said, her eyes snapping to Jane, and the force of it made Jane want to take a step back. “I am like a Mirror-Echo.”
Mirror-echo?
Nightmare must have sensed her confusion because he clarified, “Like the mirrors at the foot of the Ruins. I think you humans might call it Trapped Souls Row. Those aren’t mirrors. They are echoes of souls who control the mirrors in the city.”
“They’re echoes,” Charlotte added.
“And that’s what you are?” Jane asked.
“Not precisely.” Charlotte’s fingers stilled on the piano keys. “My soul is trapped here, while my body is long dead.”
“Why?” Jane breathed.
“Because I angered my mother’s minions, and this is how they punished me.”
There was so much information wrapped in that statement, but Jane barely had any information, so it just caused her to have twenty more questions. The one that came out was, “Mother?”
