Page 26 of Precipitous Nightmare's Valentine Dream

“I love him,” she said again, her words an admission, a proclamation, a plea.

The Nightmare King gestured toward the bed, and something sparked in his dark eyes. “Then you have done what you came here to do.”

As she turned to look at the sleeping form of her lover, now lying still as the dead under pale moonlight and golden candle flame, Luminous realized she had only one thing left to say. The only thing that mattered.

She couldn’t whisper it, not now.So Luminous Dream shouted, loud enough to wake a sleeping nightmare. She sang the words, in a melody that held true over millenia.

“I Love You, Precipitous.”

Precipitous Nightmare opened his eyes.

Chapter 21

We Built This City

Precipitous Nightmare

She came to him in a dream…

Wait. Nightmares don’t dream.

Precipitous Nightmare opened his eyes to find Luminous shouting — or was she singing? — and his king looking on with vaguely amused concern. He closed his eyes once more, concentrating on not falling back into that tumultuous place where he’d just been.

Everything hurt, and Precipitous wondered if this was what being mortal meant. He hadn’t realized it would hurt so much to change into something Real.

But, of course, that wasn’t correct at all. His body was fine. And distinctly not mortal. While the ever-changing shifts had quelled, he could feel his sharp teeth in his gums, his ponderous weight pressing down on the mattress, his horns hovering just beneath the surface.

The pain in his chest was not physical — it was loss. The cutting realization that for the rest of his existence, whether monster or man, he would be forever without her.

Luminous threw herself onto him, her sparkling tears soaking his cheeks and chin as she peppered his face with kisses.

He let his arms wrap around her, shifting into something close to human to ensure he did not hurt her, and she moved to lie atop him, cradled in his embrace.

“It’s OK, Lumi,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of all he knew must come to pass. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her face in his chest. He stroked a hand across the back of her head, let his fingers tangle in that long silvery hair one last time. “You made someone’s dream become real. You’ll get your promotion and be the best Dream Crafter the world has ever seen.”

At that, his lover pushed herself up on her arms, balancing on his bare chest as she slid her legs to each side and straddled his naked form. He had the distinct impression that she wore nothing beneath her short white sundress, and his body responded to that thought.

Precipitous opened his eyes again to see her hovering above him, confusion evident in her expression. Those mesmerizing wings fluttered on her back, though their colorful crystalline surfaces were now threaded with the dark of night.

“But I’m not going back,” she said. “I can’t. Not now.”

“I think,” said a lilting feminine voice from behind them both, “that my cousin does not realize what he’s done.”

For the first time since he woke, Precipitous looked around.

He was in the king’s audience chamber.

Effluent and Fester stood near the throne, conversing casually with the king who sat upon it. The king waved at Effie to attend to her cousin, and she approached the bed where Luminous straddled him, her wide eyes now free of tears but still a bit puffy. Precipitous wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about any of this.

“You nearly sacrificed everything for love, Preci,” said his cousin softly. She reached out to squeeze Luminous’ hand. “But your little Dream showed she’s willing to do the same in return. There is power in such things. There is magic in such things.”

“Power,” echoed Fester in his horrific scratched voice. “Magic.”

Panic swelled in Precipitous’ heart, and his gaze flicked to Luminous. She seemed unconcerned as she wiped leftover moisture from her cheeks, sending streaks of makeup in colorful lines across her face.

“What they’re trying to say,” interjected the Nightmare King from his place on the throne. “Is that I’ve offered your Dream a place here.”

The king shrugged in a sheepish, oddly human way that betrayed his mortal origins. “My… the King of Dreams would only punish her should she return, and I could always use one with her skills to help shape the night-borne tales we tell. Effluent and Fester have agreed to help her get her bearings here while you two sort out where you want to reside during those times you’re not on assignment up in the Real.”

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