Page 40 of Lost in the Dark

Then I head back out and finish my run, feeling sweaty and satisfied. Once back in my apartment, I pull on a pair of speed gloves and make my way over to the little boxing bag hanging in one corner. I go several rounds with it until both my arms and lungs are burning, and then sink onto the couch with a sigh.

I learned years ago that there are three ways for me to burn off tension: baking, boxing, and biking. I’m taking a break from the first today, but not the rest. It’s the perfect day to hop on my motorcycle and get some wind in my hair.

I shower and change, then rev up my V Star for an afternoon of cruising around the outskirts of Haven’s Hollow. It’s a little town set by a lake, nestled in the crook of the mountains, so there’s plenty of open road nearby for riding and reminiscing. It’s wild how different my life is now.

I grew up bouncing from one foster home to the next, where each foster dad was just a little too friendly. It got worse in my teens. My foster mom either didn’t believe or didn’t care that her husband was way too handsy with me, so I started spending as much time as possible out of the house.

Which is how I ended up with Evan. He was in his twenties and had perfected the whole bad boy persona. Except it wasn’t an act. He really was bad, and had his hands into all sorts of criminal pies. Drugs were his main thing, but he wasn’t above stealing or pimping. Even as I got swept up in it all, I knew it was dangerous. Which is why I secretly recorded as much as I could on my phone.

It all culminated in that night in his warehouse, when the cops raided him. I remember the gunshots, tucking myself into a corner behind some crates, hoping Evan didn’t find me. He had already accused me once of betraying him and he beat me so badly I was in the hospital for a week. That was when I knew I had to leave, but it still took a few months before I got away.

I knew if he found me that night, he would accuse me of being the one who sold him out and probably kill me. The weird thing is, it wasn’t me; to this day, I don’t know who did it. But I think in the end, they saved my life.

Luckily, the cops got to Evan that night before he discovered me hiding. I managed to sneak out, mail my phone to the detective in charge of Evan’s case, and disappear. I roamed around for years, too scared to stay in one spot for long, until I made my way to Haven’s Hollow, a place that finally, after 25 years of searching, felt like home.

I grin as the wind buffets my face. Life is finally good.

It’s nearly dark when I get back to my apartment; I spent all day on the bike and I’m exhausted and starving. I take another shower and throw together a quick meal of pasta and broccoli, then head straight to bed. I’m working tomorrow afternoon, and I need my rest. I just hope the nightmare doesn’t strike again tonight.

CALLISTER

I sit on my throne, drumming my claws against the armrest, waiting for my new favorite to fall asleep. I could be out feasting; there’s always someone in the world sleeping. But this new one, Libra, she’s worth the wait. The taste of her fear is strong, which often happens when nightmares are produced by real events instead of my guiding hand.

I’ve visited her four nights in a row, which is rare for me, but I can’t seem to get enough. There’s something alluring about this human, something that calls to me. It’s more than just thestrengthof her fear. It satiates me in a way nothing has before.

I’m losing patience with waiting for her to fall asleep each night. I need better, more frequent access to her.

I’m tempted to bring her here, to the Nightmare Court. Have her as my guest and explore her intriguing mind. I want to…keep her. Which is odd. I’ve never cared much for humans. I infiltrate their dreams, feed on their fright, and then go about my business. I’ve never craved one, never wanted to get to know one. Certainly never wanted to bring one home.

But Libra is different. I want her, in more ways than one.

I feel it the moment she enters REM sleep, and with a devious grin, slide into her dreams. I feed on the terror produced by human nightmares, and hers is a delicious treat. It doesn’t take long before she’s tossing and turning, little mewls of distress spilling from her lips.

I watch the dream as it unfolds.

She’s young here, only a teenager. An older man sits next to her on a sagging couch; the house they’re in is dirty and unkempt. There are two green piles on the coffee table in front of them: one is cash and the other is a picked-apart plant.

Next to her, the man is rolling a joint.

“You’ve never smoked before, huh? I promise you’ll like it.”

Libra frowns. “I don’t know, Evan. I’ve never really wanted to take drugs.”

He laughs. “Weed is barely a drug. It’s all natural! And it won’t fuck you up or make you addicted. It’ll just help you relax.”

She wavers. “Well…maybe. Just a little bit.”

He lights the joint, takes a hit, and passes it to her. “Just inhale and then keep the smoke in your lungs for as long as you can.”

She follows his instructions, but ends up in a coughing fit. He laughs at her distress.

“Come on, Eliza. Can’t you inhale like a normal person? Try again.”

She’s still coughing and shakes her head. “I don’t want to. I don’t like it.”

“How do you know? You did it wrong.” He holds the joint to her lips. “Come on, try again. If you do, I’ll give you a present.”

“What kind of present?” she asks.

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