Page 182 of Whisper of Nightmares

Heads slowly turn toward Euphemia and everything inside her withers.

All sense of triumph. Of joy. Hope.

“I know some of you have talked to Thurstan,” Percival continues. “He’s told you about the creature who swept through their town, leaving nothing but cinders in its wake. A beast of the Devil.” Percival pauses, letting the gasps puncture the silence. “It came in the dead of night. They saw it through their windows, a monster of fire and death.” His eyes narrow upon her with deadly intent. “Strange how it vanished the same night she did.”

Euphemia’s blood turns cold.

No.

Not this…

She knows exactly where this is going.

A murmur moves through the crowd, paranoia bleeding across the road. Through the voices, Euphemia hears what she already knows, what Cybele tried warning her about. The nightmare followed her to Thorfell.

The constable’s hold on Percival seems to lessen with each creeping doubt.

Percival uses that opportunity to stand a little taller, though the reflection of torchlight in his dark eyes still gives him a deranged look.

“Oh, so you’ve already heard then,” he says, smiling wickedly. “The nightmare has been spotted at Thorfell too.”

The crowd that had just moments ago been congratulating and cheering for her and her husband, turns upon them with fear, disgust, and hate. The looks in their faces bring tears to Euphemia’s eyes, for it confirms a truth she’s been trying to outrun for months now.

She is the monster.

Always has been.

Always will be.

Because if she were anything virtuous, she never would have come to Thorfell. Never would have condemned the people here to face her nightmare. Never would have tangled Dagfinn and Kelda in her curse.

Dagfinn steps before Euphemia, blocking her from the people with bloodthirsty eyes.

They will pull him limb from limb.

They will beat his mother until she is nothing but bruised flesh and broken bones.

They will throw them into the churning sea and then celebrate having rid themselves of such wickedness.

And the worst part: Dagfinn and Kelda will defend her to the end. They will claw through the people they swore to protect. They will fight until their nails bleed and their teeth are stained red. And they will lose everything.

“Forgive me,” Euphemia mutters—only, this time not to her God. This time she speaks only to the people. To Kelda. To Dagfinn.

Dagfinn is the only one who hears.

He turns his head to look back at her, but Euphemia is already running. The people have dispersed enough that she sees a path through. It does not matter where it leads. As long as she puts distance between her and the family who have just fought for everything they have.

“Get her!” Percival shouts behind her.

Over the answering bellows for blood, she hears Dagfinn telling the people, no. Telling them to stop. Telling them she’s done nothing wrong.

She squeezes her eyes shut and hopes he’ll soon forget her name at all.

Hopes she can disappear somewhere no one can ever find her again.

Somewhere she cannot hurt anyone.

A place where the nightmare can come and claim her at last.