Page 30 of Sweet Nightmares (Wicked Mirrors #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

F rom the travel void, Nightmare stepped out and into the grand entry hall of his gothic castle. His fingers slowly drifted off her waist, leaving an echo of his touch.

A rumble moved through his chest. He sniffed the air, and his knuckles hovered for a moment over her hair as if he wanted to touch her again, but he didn’t. He whirled around and walked deeper into his castle.

“Gavriil,” she hedged, unsure how to ask him for help. She never truly had before. He’d given her help without her realizing it, but she’d never really asked anything of him—save the time he stole her dancing away.

“Yes,” he said. Only one word, but at least he continued to speak to her. She was afraid he’d stop again. Swiveling on his heel, she saw a mixture of unreadable masks climbing onto his face. He was hiding from her again.

“I need your help.”

He stepped toward her quickly, eager to help, but seemed to rethink his eagerness because he froze midstep. “That much is clear.” He waved a hand. “Out with it, bride.”

Jane gulped, and moisture played at the edge of her eyes. Had he just called her bride again while being quite rude at the same time? “ Bride ?”

He closed the distance between them and ran one of his large hands through her hair, grabbing the thick strands at the back of her head into his fist possessively, forcing her face up to meet his. “You will always be my bride, even when I hate you.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Sometimes.” He sighed dramatically. “Now, what do you need?”

“Will you come with me?”

He released her hair as an answer, and she walked out of his hold, guiding him to her new rooms. The autopsy reports were strewn everywhere: on the bed, across the richly woven rug, and even one hanging off a hook.

“You wanted to show me that you are an abhorrent mess without my presence?” He let out a low chuckle. “I already knew that.”

“No, not that.” Jane placed her hands on her hips. “And I am not that messy.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, “Have you met yourself?”

It was good that he was teasing her. He wasn’t really a teaser, so perhaps he was trying.

“Fine,” she sighed. “The autopsy reports. They are from my parents’ deaths and a slew of vampire attacks over the past nineteen years.

They are connected to the destruction of the first Blood Mirror.

I think whoever killed my parents stole the vampire’s Blood Paintings from the mirror and has been controlling them and creating more. ”

He cocked his head, but the gleam in his eye said he agreed with her.

“So, I need you to help me remember my parents’ deaths.” Jane bit her bottom lip, glancing at the reports. “I witnessed it, but I don’t remember. I think I locked it away, and I know you can help me access the memories.”

He ran a thumb along his bottom lip. “I’ll help you, but not in here.” He turned toward the door, waiting for her to follow. “We’re going to my sanctuary.”

“Your forbidden wing?”

“It’s not forbidden anymore. Just ask, if you want to know something, and then respect me if I don’t want to tell you.”

It was fair. “Alright.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

He grumbled a response, leading her through the brambles and into his picturesque riverscape.

It was night inside, and the sky sparkled like the ocean at sunset.

Fireflies danced through a gentle breeze, and a sweet waterfall crashed in the distance against red-orange rocks.

Rock sculptures littered the landscape, arches, and water-carved designs.

The place was like a god’s intricate finger painting—and now that she thought about it, it was.

It was Nightmare’s.

He was a god, but also a vampire. Did that mean he had a Blood Painting? She asked as much out loud.

“Why, do you want to kill me?”

“No, of course not.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Did you ever?”

“No.” The answer was short and marked the end of the conversation.

He led her to the riverbed, had her take off her shoes, and made her sit in the sand. “I want you to feel the sand. I want you to be present. Close your eyes and listen. Feel the granules between your fingers.”

She did as he asked. Nightmare sat opposite her, his knees touching hers.

He was the first thing she felt. His demanding and commandeering presence—he ruled every room he entered and always stole her breath away.

He might have stolen attention because on nearly half of the occasions he entered a room, he murdered someone in it.

It was impossible not to notice him.

“Breathe, and hear the birds singing to you and the water dancing in the grooves of nature.”

Jane sucked in a deep breath and fell into the sounds and feelings. She scooped the sand and felt it fall through her fingers; with each movement, her soul settled. Peace stroked along her body like a physical force, warm like strings formed from contained sunlight, like a blanket or a hug.

But it was too real…

Opening her eyes, she saw his magic light stroking along her body, wrapping around her arms, legs, and waist. He was holding her, comforting her; but also giving her space. She smiled and closed her eyes again.

“Now, keep your eyes closed and bring yourself back to that night.” The light strings warmed on her skin.

She did as he said again, and the first thing she saw was her wicked dreams. She shivered, and the ropes tightened on her skin, letting her know he was there.

The walls bled, but she couldn’t quite distinguish what the walls looked like or where she was. The blood just piled up, thick and clotted, down the sides like a waterfall of old, clumpy paint. The smell stuck in her nostrils. A horrible, indescribable scent.

Once again, Jane held a hand over her baby sister’s mouth and squeezed her to keep her from screaming—he couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t find them—and with her other hand, she pressed her fingertips into the marble floor to ground herself and keep herself from screaming.

Glass flew through the air, and Jane screamed in her mind, or maybe she screamed out loud.

It was hard to tell anymore.

Then she heard his voice… The man who killed her parents was asking, “Did you get them?”

“Yes,” her mother’s stern voice. “Now leave. Get out of my house.”

But the memory ended and was filled with swirling smoke and haunting calls. “Come find us, Jane. Find us.”

The words repeated endlessly.

It was a mixture of magic and a present request.

And suddenly, she understood what she needed to do to regain her memories.

Jane jumped up, quickly threw her shoes on, and ran out of the room to exit the mirror because her magic was guiding her.

Her mind wasn’t going to give her all the answers like this.

She needed a Blood Mirror, so she let her magic pull her.

She let the mirror call to her. Mirrors always had, especially the one in the Royalle Ballet, and all Jane needed was to clear her mind and listen.

And listen she did.

She ran, her dress covered with sand and disheveled, her shoes barely holding on. Onlookers probably thought she was unhinged, especially when they saw a tall, dark figure following her, strolling unconcerned behind her.

Nightmare had no anxiety or even emotion coloring his footfalls. It was quite the contrast.

But Jane didn’t care. She followed her magic, her senses. Much like Nightmare’s warm strings of light, her magic lit a path to the Ruins.

The Ruins.

Jane halted at the entrance. A sea of creepy mirrors and wicked gates formed the place. The viciously beautiful mermaid statues on the gate whispered to life, their tails flicking and hair bouncing in the wind—the sapphire gates.

“Enter at your peril, little witch,” the mermaids said in sinister unison.

The hair on Jane’s arms rose.

“Ah, and the man formed of Nightmares,” they said again in unison as Nightmare stepped up next to Jane.

Two things happened at once: the sea of mirrors behind the gates let out a wave of shrieks, the sound piercing the night sky, and an invisible barrier tried to attack their bodies, but Nightmare broke the enchantment with a wave of his arm.

When they stepped through the gates, the plane was blanketed in shadows and misty, unnatural smoke.

Jane’s nostrils flared as she tried to ignore the screams and caged souls. But the mirrors were relentless, chanting evil things mixed with horrific lies.

They said things like, We want to devour you, Jane , and You’re going to die soon. They continued, whispering cruel and damaging words into the blackened night.

“Ignore them,” Nightmare said, linking his arm into hers. “They are just echoes of the souls inside other mirrors. They can’t do anything to you.”

Echoes? Jane wanted to ask what he meant by that, but she didn’t have time or energy for that. So, instead, to the best of her ability, she ignored them, swallowing and following her magic past the mirrors.

When they finally reached the clearing beyond, it was like breathing for the first time.

And, as she sucked in a deep breath, she turned her gaze upon the towering vampire ruins—a place that had once been their beautiful palace.

Before the Blood Rebellion, when King Emrys won the war and slaughtered all the remaining vampires, at least until the survivors turned him into the same monster he hated so much.

Stone crumbled from the seams of turrets and looked like the jagged edges of a shattered stained-glass window.

The once majestic castle festered and rotted like the bowels of a river-soaked corpse.

Darkness’s wings surrounded the place and covered it in death.

Vines snaked up the shattered stone, and mold grew along the walls like parasites feasting on flesh.

Moss and mildew covered the ground, and everything about the place screamed, Get out ! Including Jane’s gut.

Monsters worse than death haunted the grounds. Decay had breathed life into this place, and nothing was free from its chokehold.