Page 1 of Unleashing Mayhem (Demon Bound #4)

M atty’s mother was here. He wasn’t sure why—he hadn’t seen that woman in over a decade.

What was weirder than her unexpected presence was that he could only see the back of her, a mass of long dark hair flowing down over her too-thin frame.

And that no matter how much he shouted, she never turned around.

She and her hair stayed exactly as they were, silhouetted in a doorway at the end of a long, narrow hallway.

And the longer Matty walked toward her, the longer the hallway grew.

He didn’t even know why he was walking toward her in the first place. He didn’t want to see her, not after what she’d done—what she’d failed to do. But he couldn’t stop his feet from moving in her direction.

And now there were doors lining the hallway, misshapen wooden things, all of them shaking and pounding, like whoever or what ever was behind them wanted out.

Matty didn’t want them to come out. He knew what he’d find if one of those doors opened.

Icy fingers wrapped around his heart, and suddenly Matty was dizzy with fear. It wasn’t a new feeling—not at all. Fear was like an old friend to Matty, if a friend was someone people hated and resented every single day of their life. But the intensity of the fear was off.

Matty had been feeling okay earlier, hadn’t he? He remembered feeling almost…safe.

Why had he felt safe?

The answer came to him in an instant, burning brightly through his mental fog. He’d felt safe because of Kai and Sascha and Seacliff. Their cozy home in Maine.

How had Matty gotten from there to here?

I’m dreaming , Matty realized in an instant. Immediately, his panic spiked sharply. Oh fuck, I’m dreaming.

It was the worst place to find himself: in a dream where he couldn’t direct the outcome. Because he was bound to appear. He always did.

Always.

Wake up , Matty told himself. Wake up right now.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He wasn’t in control here. He was never in control. And any minute, one of those creepy doors was going to open.

Right on time—summoned by Matty’s thoughts, no doubt—a familiar voice called out, “Matteeeeeooooo.” The voice was singsong, falsely juvenile. Taunting. “Come out, come out, wherever you aaaare.”

Matty started running. Or at least, he tried to. But his dream legs were leaden, sinking deep into the ground no matter how hard he pushed himself to sprint.

The hallway grew longer and longer and longer, the doors all around him pounding and shaking.

Matty kept trying anyway. Running was the only solution. He needed to keep running and running. And if this stupid goddamn hallway ever stopped growing and he came to a real exit, then he needed to hide. Hiding was good, even if he was always found eventually. At least it delayed the inevitable.

At least it gave him a few moments without pain.

“Matteo!” The voice was growing louder. Bolder. Meaner. Sharp as the knife its owner always carried. “Get the fuck back here, you little bastard!”

Matty couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. There was nothing but dark hallway behind him—too dark to see anything clearly. But was that a shadow there, coming slowly closer?

Matty whimpered, his heart racing so fast now that he thought it might explode.

But suddenly there was no more hallway in front of him. Matty hit something horribly solid and slammed backward, landing on his ass.

He stared up at the obstruction. A person. Sort of. From Matty’s sprawled position, he was mostly staring at long, unnaturally thin legs. Spindly like a spider, dark gray and blending into the shadows around them.

Familiar.

Matty looked up. Up and up and up. He saw white hair sprouting from a strangely elongated human skull, one with sharp, flesh-shredding teeth and glowing white eyes. Large, branched black antlers topping it all.

Relief flooded through Matty, so powerful he instantly started crying.

He blinked up at the apparition, trying to calm his hiccuping sobs. He swallowed hard. And then he smiled, shaky as the gesture might have been.

“Oh,” Matty said, his voice thick with tears as he stared at the monster looming over him, that fanged maw opening wide. “It’s you.”

Nightmare opened his eyes, staring out at his dim, dusty cave. He licked his lips, savoring the traces that were left there, his shadows dancing around him in delight.

Sweet and tart. Sugared lemon.

Nightmare smiled into the dark, a flash of sharp teeth with no one there to see them. He wished he could return, but the dream had already faded. He would have to wait another night.

It was a dull proposition. The Void had long grown tedious, even before Nightmare had lost his companions. He still hadn’t decided if the trio he’d been stuck with had made it more or less so in the first place, but the answer was of no consequence.

Nightmare would be leaving soon.

It was a matter of when and not if now. Nightmare could sense the soul magic in his summoning mark, all the way across the ether in the human realm. He could feel how it had dislodged itself from the Book, seeking the right soul to aid their escape.

Nightmare knew which human his magic sought, but he was less certain if fate would be so considerate as to allow it.

It mattered little either way. Nightmare would make his own fate.

He may not have anticipated the Book getting lost in the human realm for centuries—an oversight if there ever was one—but Nightmare hadn’t wasted his time here.

He’d worked slowly and patiently, feeding as best he could on the tattered dreams he was able to access through the veil of the Void.

Leeching off human fear, bitter and potent even from a great distance.

Consolidating his power and building his reserves.

Nightmare stretched his long limbs, cracking his neck to the left. To the right. He closed his eyes once more, slipping back into the dream realm in the quiet of the empty Void.

For now, he would find a lesser dream to ease his boredom. He could be patient a little while longer, here in the prison of his own making.

After all, there was something sweet waiting for him on the other side.