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Taking her hand again, I lead Libra around the corner to the Great Hall, where we are greeted by a sight that is typical here, but surely something she has never seen before. The twin Nightmare Lords have organized some sort of chaotic ball. Macabre’s skirts swirl around her as she spins and spins, while Mayhem claps and taps his foot, keeping erratic time. Lesser demons dance among them, legs blurring as they try to keep pace.
They are a sight to behold, every part of them designed to terrify humans. Fangs and horns, carapaces and cobwebs. Inside-out skin, elongated fingers, misshapen heads. Bodies that aren’t remotely humanoid.
And in the midst, running it all, two overly tall skeletons dressed in old-fashioned rags.
Macabre cackles, clearly delighted by the chaos, though she has no lips on her skeletal face with which to smile.
“What is this?” Libra asks. To her credit, she seems more curious than horrified.
“It appears to be a twist on the allemande,” I say. “Would you like to join?”
She chuckles. “I don’t know the steps.”
I watch pandemonium going on around us. “Do you really think it matters?”
“You have a point,” she says. “But all these creatures are a little scary. Everything here is.”
“Ah, they’re my nightmare demons. Don’t mind them. This is just an example of the twins having a bit of fun,” I say. “But have no worries. No one here will bother you. You’re under my protection.”
We wander through more halls, where various demons go about their business. I want her to see my realm and be comfortable here. Against all odds, I want her tonotbe afraid, even though demons aren’t generally the most attractive bunch, at least by human standards.
“What exactlyisthe Nightmare Realm?” she asks.
I pause for a moment, thinking about how to explain it. “I suppose you could call it a kingdom, and I am its king. This is the source of all human nightmares; my demons and I infiltrate human dreams and bring forth fear, which sustains us. Some of my creatures are even born from the fear. But when we aren’t working, we are here, in the palace, living our lives, thinking up new and creative nightmares to inflict. As you can see, the twins in particular like to create havoc and have fun. They’re very talented at their job.”
“I see,” she says, though I’m not sure she really does. My world may bear some similarities to hers, but the differences are vast. There’s a pensive look on her face.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“When we met before, I said I wanted to know all about you.”
I nod. “I remember.”
“Well, I don’t actually know much about you at all. Please tell me about yourself. Help me understand…this.” She makes a helpless gesture, encompassing me and our surroundings.
“Well, as I said, I’m king of this court. I control nightmares.”
She stops me. “No, that’s what you are. I want to knowwhoyou are. Your likes, your interests, your hobbies. Your family. The person outside the King of Nightmares. You said the others are demons. Is that what you are too?”
I pause. I don’t think anyone has ever asked me these things before. “I’m not certain there’s much to know. I’m eternal—I have existed as long humans have been alive to have nightmares, and I will exist until humans end. I like the parlor games the twins often put on. I’m interested in you.”
She blushes but doesn’t comment on my statement. “Your family?”
“I don’t have one, at least not in the conventional human sense. No parents, no siblings. I suppose my demons are sort of like family. I cherish some of them like I would children. I suppose some of themaremy children, in the sense that I brought them into being. As for me, I am…different from what they are. Some might call me a demon, I suppose. But I’mmorethan they are. More powerful, more terrifying, older. More monstrous.”
“I don’t have family either,” she says. “I mean, I must have had parents, but I never knew them. I grew up in foster care, and it wasn’t great. I ran away when I was seventeen.”
“Does it make you sad that you don’t have family?” I ask.
She thinks for a moment. “Sort of. But it’s hard to grieve something you never had. It’s an abstract sadness, I guess. But I’m happy now. I love my life, my home, my friends. My job. I don’t want to lose those things.”
“Why would you?”
“There’s a man who wants to kill me,” she says. “He’s searching for me.”
Everything inside me stops, including my heart. I knew she’d been having nightmares, of course. I knew she’d spontaneously moved to that awful little cabin by the lake. But it never occurred to me to wonder why. I suppose I never wonder why humans do and think the things they do. It’s never occurred to me.
“What do you mean?” I ask slowly, careful not to let her see the rage that’s building inside of me at the idea of her in real danger.
