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“It would have been useful to have a child of terror as my disciple,” the woman said, her head tilting as she watched Milani float across the floor. Sharp breaths were taken around the room. If people could speak, they used their voices to swear, to plead, to pray. My lips were sealed together. I was frozen, silent.
“Alas, you are too useful to my enemies.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Milani demanded shrilly, wrenching against the force dragging her to the terrifying woman.
“Nightmare, darling. I am Nightmare.”
A hush fell over the bleeding room before pleas and prayers renewed at twice the volume. Nightmare didn’t seem like a cool name two goth parents had given their kid; it felt like a title, like a warning. As if every night terror and traumatising dream originated from this beautiful woman from whom power thumped like a heartbeat.
Milani was finally close enough to fight the woman. Nightmare. But her arms were locked at her sides with invisible bindings, and she could only thrash uselessly as Nightmare lifted a finger, pressed it to Milani’s forehead, and a dissonant, howling scream tore from the girl, drowning out all other noise.
When Nightmare pulled back, Milani’s eyes rolled back into her forehead and her legs fell from under her. I gasped frantically when another thump went through the air, through the atmosphere of the world, like it had before. And I understood. When Milani hit the ground, I knew that the thump meant she was dead, and that Nightmare’s power grew with each death.
Dead. Of course she is. How do you think I’m here?
And there was only one reason we would all be surrounded by her power, too: she planned to murder every last one of us.
CHAPTER NINE
CAT
Nightmare stepped over Milani’s body and toed the line of fire around her, giving the gathered students a curious look. “Where is the bride of death?”
My stomach sank to my feet.
I clutched Honey with shaking hands and irrationally hoped that line of fire somehow trapped Nightmare, even if she’d willingly walked into it.
Not me, not me, I’m not the bride of death, please mean someone else.
“There you are,” Nightmare said, a smile in her voice. I darted the world’s quickest glance at her and couldn’t trap a whimper when I found her eerie eyes on me. “It was pure chance, you realise? Whoever chose the dress and veil would become his bride. But he’ll like you—a scared little rabbit with fire in her eyes. Yes, he’ll like you very much.”
I shook my head and realised I wasn’t frozen in place at all, I was just terrified. No, I wanted to say. No. I’m no one’s bride, no one will like me, no thank you very much.
I got the sense she was smiling at me but I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t lift my head, couldn’t do anything except shake and cling to Honey who lunged forward suddenly and said, “Hey, my bitch’snot marrying anyone. Even if they’ve got a giant schlong.”
Terror had me shivering, my hands snapping out to grab her. Like our movement had shocked them out of their frozen terror, everyone in the room erupted into a sudden flurry of motion, racing for the door.
“Yes, my terrors, run. Run so I can chase.” Nightmare scuffed her shoe against the line of fire again and flames shot so high they obscured her face. A wall of heat hit us. The five robed figures started chanting again.
I didn’t stick around to see what happened next. I grabbed Honey, shoved her out of the bloodstained room, and ran as fast as my legs would carry me through the hall, under the obnoxious chandelier, and out into the garden. I sucked down air like I’d been drowning. My ears buzzed. I could still feel the horrid weight of Nightmare’s power, could still taste blood.
“That was a joke, right?” someone gasped behind us. “That wasn’t real.”
An asshole shoved past us so forcefully that I splayed into the topiary beside the door, and I was so afraid, so shaken, that I didn’t care that vomit smeared on my white dress. Or that Alastor Carmichael was the dick who shoved me out of the way in his frantic attempt to get free.
Honey pulled me back to my feet, her blue eyes wide and glassy. “Are you alright?”
“No,” I breathed, but I guided us back onto the path and down it towards the gate. The only way out was through, and I didn’t dare hesitate. Nightmare would chase us, would hunt us down. I choked back a cry.
Whoever chose the dress and veil would become his bride. But he’ll like you—a scared little rabbit with fire in her eyes.
A chill tripped down my spine. I clutched Honey tightly as my numb feet carried me away, scanning the garden for Byron, needing my friend’s stability and reassurance. I wanted a hug so suddenly that my eyes burned.
“We need to—get out of here,” I rasped, ignoring the fracturing of my breathing, the adrenaline shaking through my system until my legs were jelly. I grabbed the fence post and then we were through the gate, surrounded by jesters and grim reapers and sexy nurses.
“What the fuck was that?” Justin Merchant demanded, grabbing Duncan by the front of his plague doctor outfit and wrenching him close. Justin’s fist collided with Duncan’s nose in the next moment, cartilage crunching. I glanced away at the gushing blood, too reminiscent of the walls in that room.
“I know you’re her disciple,” Justin snarled in his face. “It was your party, all your idea, because you were going to fucking sacrifice us.”
