Page 91 of Sweet Nightmares
“One shall die while the other blossoms, but time shall tell if they are possums.” Periwinkle paused and scratched her head. “No. That’s not right. Not possums. Hmm, well, I don’t remember the rest of the prophecy. It’s something, something, save the world. Shatter ceilings… no, not ceilings. Red, rose, murder, fun. Life, death, and as bright as the sun? Well, it’s along those lines. Do you understand?”
No, none of Periwinkle’s word salad made sense.
“Ah, I see you do not. Alas, one day you shall.” Periwinkle flicked Jane’s nose and skipped off into the club, a wave of pink curls bouncing as she went.
Jane touched a hand to her heart and let out a little gasp she’d been holding in. The god was sometimes a little too much for Jane to handle, and what she had just said, at the very least, was confusing and, at the most, quite terrifying.
And Jane didn’t want to think about any of it.
She just wanted one night of fun. One night for herself. For once.
So she allowed herself to be swept up in the jubilance of the night, celebrating her sister’s birthday. All of her closest friends were there: Constance, Jevon, Giselle, and Quinn, as well as the infuriatingly charming Prince with eyes for her sister, and her boss, François. They all handed her a drink at one point during the night. Causing her to be far too lubricated with spirits.
Darcy and Harlowe had left. Something about a mission across the sea: apparently, they were leaving on a steamship in the morning to be gone for seventeen days.
But they weren’t very fun anyway. Darcy could be, but Harlowe’s personality was formed from razor blades and sour candies. The festivities would probably be better without them.
Regrettably, Jane might have been allowing herself to imbibe just a bit too much, as all her friends were handing her drinks and contributing to her poor decisions.
She found herself lured to and trapped in a quiet section of the club by a man she’d thought was a friend.
Her feet were too unsteady and her vision just a bit too hazy. But she could see the danger.
And fortune was not on her side, for Death was on the prowl, and nameless monsters lingered in the dark.
Chapter Thirty
Age 29.
“Gideon, I presume?” Jane said, eyes darting around the small room as ten vampires penned her in. Her legs felt like jelly, and her mind was hazy and unfocused, but she tried as hard as she could to stay standing and strong.
But she’d been drugged.
She had to have been.
She wanted to call on Nightmare, but she couldn’t. She’d severed their bond and broken it at maybe the worst possible moment.
One of the vampires had a malicious and hungry smile on his face—the ringleader from the vampire lair. He wanted to devour her like a snake eyeing its prey, getting ready to pounce.
Jane had been betrayed by one of her closest friends, but with her mind in an utter state of fog, she couldn’t grasp and hold onto their name. The drugs were taking bits of her. But she knew the man who stood before her was her friend. And the worst bit was that she never imagined Gideon would end upbeing close to her—would end up being someone she’d trusted so deeply.
It was unclear why her mind couldn’t grasp any names, save the one who murdered her parents. Maybe it was a sick trick of the drugs.
But here, her parents’ killer stood with his hands in his pockets, a sickening smile twisted on his face.
As he chuckled, his face morphed from what she knew to something else—into the man from her nightmares with dusty red hair, freckles, and hazel eyes—confirming her thoughts. This was indeed the true Gideon. He was still attractive with his true face, maybe even more so, but no kindness remained.
“You flew too close to the sun, my dear, and now you have discovered too much,” Gideon said, his once beautiful face twisting into horrors—and not the kind she cherished. “And you know the location of an object I very much want to possess.”
Jane took a hesitant step back, but the ringleader vampire was there just as she did, and she knocked into his sturdy, muscular chest. “Not so fast, little mouse,” he whispered, his voice vibrating against her ginger hair. “My food isn’t getting away from me this time.”
Jane’s knees wobbled, and she pulled at her magic as if she were ripping out her hair. But it, too, was unsteady. It, too, was drugged.
Fuck.
“Compel her to tell me where the second Blood Mirror is,” Gideon told her captor.
“What?” she spat. “You can’t do it yourself?”
