Page 10

Chapter 10

She is a messed-up brain matter.

MORPHEUS

“Little Me” by Nightcore Version

I shake my head with an airy chuckle at the familiar, little one who has been undoubtedly searching high and low for my brother.

Zenya is still little more than a shadow, but I sense her puzzled state thanks to what lives inside her. I also know Nyxion has rightfully changed her garb to something more appropriate given the new company.

Ivy sweeps into the great hall, a flurry of blonde ringlets and a fury of a spirit. Or I’d imagine so since my first glimpse of her when she slipped through Purgatory’s cracks and ended up in my realm. Unlike Zenya, she is simply a dream walker. Not a dream weaver.

Not as rare of a phenomenon for a child.

Hands on her hips, pert little nose in the air, emotions in a tizzy, Ivy strolls up to the supper table and shoots her head toward me.

I lift my goblet to my lips as she says, “Where is he, Lord Morpheus?”

“I’ve seen nothing, my child,” I smirk. It’s pretty much true. “And you don’t need to say ‘Lord’. Yes, we are gods, but we are spirits. Daemons, if you will. We are minor gods. We merely personify dreams.”

“Like baby gods? Do you have to go to school?” she asks in her flippant, childish tone since she is very much a child.

“Clearly, we need a better PR team, Nyxion.” I salute him with a lift of my goblet.

“We should consult with Hades.” He rolls his eyes, maintaining his tight hold on Zenya. “He seems to be the popular one these days. Just don’t ask Eros. He’ll rant on forever, playing the victim that he is portrayed as a diaper-clad baby, even though he held the Scepter of the Universe before Zeus.

“Oh, woe is him.”

“He’s too busy with his new Queen in any case,” he dismisses.

“Yes, taking mortals as queens seems to be a trend.” I narrow my gaze on him because I will always lamentably see my brother’s endless, black orbs.

He growls low, but Ivy circles the table. Considering how Zenya has straightened, I get the sense she has sent Ivy a hint of where Phantasos is hiding.

“There you are!” Ivy gushes, her hands cupping just beneath her chin, her tone like popping bubbles. “Aww, now, come on out, Phanta. I found you fair and square.” She pokes the lollipop, then leans down to whisper, “I’ll lick you, you fabulous god, you. And it’s not like I’ve brushed my teeth anytime recently.”

Nyxion and I chuckle right before Phantasos metamorphoses before her. I sense his multi-colored robe from here. It’s bright enough to penetrate my muted vision.

Zenya giggles and wiggles off Nyxion’s lap, making her way to the opposite side of the table. My wings preen as she passes, casting her fragrance into the air. Nyxion throws a bone-shaped cookie at me in a not-so-subtle warning. It bounces off my head. But nothing he will do will nullify my hunger for her. It’s honestly his fault.

“Phanta!” Ivy squeals and throws her arms around my brother.

Heated amusement ripples through me as Phantasos prickles, at a loss for words for once in his life, right before he cups her shoulders.

“Child, how many times have I told you? You belong in Purgatory! With Eros.”

She shrugs and tilts her head with a smile. “I like you more. He doesn’t dance.”

Phantasos kneads his brow. “Look, Ivy, I put in a good word with Queen Aradia. You will absolutely love her. She likes to take dark, little things like you and show them pretty, pink stuff. I don’t know, something like that. I just know it’s impossible not to love her. So, how about I escort you back to the gateway?” He tries to shoo her along, but she digs her heels in.

“Aradia is sweet, but I like you more.” She puts her hands together in front of her and sways, her energy effervescent.

“Stop calling me Phanta! I’m not an energy drink!”

Zenya steps closer, a knowing energy resonating from her. “If he is, I’d need a lifetime supply.”

Ivy turns to Zenya. Her chin juts out. “Who are you?”

“Zenya Alice Myre…at your service,” she adds with a flair, mirroring Phantasos with her illustrious bow before conjuring a lollipop for Ivy.

“Dream weaver! I’m so jealous!” Ivy gushes. “Can you weave me up a pet tiger?”

“Don’t indulge her,” Phantasos warns Zenya. “She only looks sweet and innocent.”

Nyxion grunts. “Anything would be better than the Candyland present.”

I can’t help but chuckle at the image. “Candyland nightmares…hmm. Now that’s a twist.” Curiosity sparks inside me as I wonder where the conversation will lead.

Nyxion merely snorts.

Ivy giggles, hopping from one foot to the other. “I’d make sure there are plenty of marshmallow monsters, too!”

Zenya laughs, her energy twinkling as she looks at Ivy. “You’d better behave, or Phantasos might send you to bed without dessert.”

Ivy gasps in mock horror. “Not without dessert! You wouldn’t dare, would you, Phanta?”

Phantasos sighs, a smile tugging at his lips despite how he tries to look stern. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for stubborn, little troublemakers.”

I nod my agreement, a sense of warmth spreading through me. Despite the chaos and the darkness, there’s a strange comfort in our twisted little family. We are ever competing with one another. It’s why I can’t fault Nyxion too much, even if he’s never gone so far as to steal my Eye.

Ivy will prove to be a worthy diversion. Nyxion can’t avoid me forever. Soon, we will discuss recent events while Zenya is otherwise occupied. With her involvement in this conflict between me and my brother, it’s better to keep her in the dark, so to speak.

Zenya steps closer to my brother, a curious smile on her lips. “Phantasos, it seems Ivy isn’t going anywhere easily. What will you do? Keep playing hide and seek?”

Ivy proudly crosses her arms over her chest. “More like hide and find.”

Phantasos groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine, she can stay, but don’t blame me when she has you eating out of the palm of her hand.”

Zenya laughs. “Oh, I’ll be careful. I wouldn’t want to end up her minion.”

Ivy makes a pouting sound, and I hear her take a few steps to stand protectively in front of Phantasos. “It’s not my fault Phantasos needs my protection. He’s just so fun and fluffy. He needs someone scary like me to look out for him.”

“Oh, you are a terror all right,” remarks Zenya, and I sense her grin from here. “Who in their right mind wouldn’t be afraid of you? I think you’re scarier than the God of Nightmares.” He scowls, his usual broody self.

A flicker of amusement kindles within me as I listen to the banter. It’s a welcome break from the usual solemnity.

With a flourish, Zenya dream-weaves a throne for Ivy, pulling Phantasos over to stand beside it. “There, now you can command us all.”

Ivy’s eyes light up with excitement as she hops onto the throne. “This is amazing! Now, Phanta, fetch me a cloud! I’ve always wanted a cloud pillow.”

I chuckle softly, feeling the vibrations in my chest, the sound almost foreign to me. Only a twinge of sympathy for Phantasos because I know he’s internally eating up the attention.

When Nyxion rises from his throne, sweeping back his cloak, I tense, ready to step in if he invades their playtime. My wings tighten slightly.

Nyxion’s energy darkens as he wraps his bony hand around Zenya’s waist, possessive and domineering. “Remember who the real God of Nightmares is,” he growls softly.

Zenya looks up at him, a sense of mischief sparkling around her. “Who could forget?”

With his very bone skull leering down at her, my eldest brother takes her jaw in his skeletal grip. “Kiss me.”

I can’t quite see everything, but I know she’s pausing, hesitating, her self-conscious energy radiating.

“That was not a request,” he deepens his vocal cords and tightens his grip on her jaw. The savage intensity of his energy as he stares at her is unlike anything I’ve ever seen or felt from him.

He’s fucked her. Surely, she has kissed his skull. Unless he was in his god form at the time—or his corpse becoming it. Regardless, this is different than their first moments in this hall. She was distracted by his sexual torment and maintained her sense of playfulness before her shadow self overthrew her. Another matter I’ll settle with my brother presently.

His monstrous need for her eclipses everything else in the room, including my shadows. This is him proving his claim over her. Like marking his territory.

Zenya is no wallflower. When he binds his powerful wings around the lower half of her form, she doesn’t cower. No, she purses her lips, tilts her head, and I hear a knowing “hmm” resonate from her throat.

Her smile is so golden, I can see it beyond the silhouetted facade. The only mortal to ever smile at my nightmarish brother. The rare dream walkers who have crossed into his realm are quick to scream and retreat to mine. He commands all territories of mortal fears and horrors. But this mad, little creature stares at him like he’s worthy of worship.

She will soon look at me the same way. As I will her.

The moment she arches her neck and rises on her tiptoes, Nyxion sweeps down, his bone colliding with her mouth. As he stabs his tongue past her lips, his teeth cut against her lips, bleeding thin lines. Her moan is the sound of what dreams are made of.

Another moment of his ravishing kiss before he pulls away. Then he snaps his wings to his back and walks away, her blood coating his teeth. Breathless and bewildered, Zenya presses her fingers to her lips, swiping at the blood before turning to me.

I don’t rise from my chair, but I project my shadows in thin, wispy tendrils. Nyxion growls a warning, but he mercifully does not stop me from curling my shadows around her lips to heal the marks.

Zenya heaves a sigh and drops her hands to her sides. “I’ll take awkward, dramatic moments for 500, Alex,” she jokes to Phantasos and Ivy.

Ivy giggles on her throne, kicking her legs and addressing Phantasos, “Dance for me,” she pleads with her hands joined beneath her chin.

“Zenya…” he looks toward our little dream weaver. “Would you care to conjure a song?”

She closes her eyes for a moment before “Little Me” manifests.

Phantasos seizes Zenya by the waist. Much to Nyxion’s chagrin, he adorns himself in his new Queen persona and dances with our mad weaver.

Word by word, dance by dance, she takes herself back, her dark and light tattoos swirling. A great and terrible shoutout to the little girl inside her who played with bones. An inner hitherto sense that she is beautiful, wonderful, anything she may not see but feel down to the fabric of her being.

She’s shedding grace on the little girl inside her.

How I desire her!

Ivy claps her hands to the rhythm until Phantasos ends with a sweeping bow. The child rushes to him and throws her arms around him, making my trickster brother prickle before he finally acquiesces and hugs her.

For the next hour, Nyxion and I watch—well, I watch as best I can—Zenya, Phantasos, and Ivy dancing. Every new song is spelled into being by Zenya, her duality showing itself in her emo style. Not extreme goth but not quite happy butterflies.

She is a messed-up brain matter. A fanatical mix of fucked up flawlessness.