Grave Dance

“I don’t know,” Falin said, staring at the sky, “but he’s done that a couple of times. He never hits the ground.”

Right. I grabbed PC, cuddling him in my arms. The trembling dog didn’t object to the attention. “Where are we?” I asked again.

“If I had to guess? The realm of nightmares.”

Oh, now that sounded like a fun place. “How did we get here?”

Falin shook his head. “When I woke to your screaming, we were already here.”

Perfect. Had someone brought us here? But who? The Shadow King? And, more important, why?

“How do we get out?” I asked, searching the darkness and shadows for a door, or even a wall.

The darkness looked exactly the same on every side.

“I think we’re picking a direction at random,” Falin said, and then pointed left. It looked as good—or, really, as creepy—a direction as any.

The powder-fine sand shifted under our feet as we walked. We had to stop at one point as a troupe of clowns with bright hair and fake noses chased a woman across our path, leaving behind the sound of squeaking shoes in their wake. Then we passed a man in a dentist’s chair which appeared to spring right out of the sand. A teenage girl stood butt naked in front of her locker as groups of teenagers stood around her, laughing. A small boy huddled under his blanket, clutching a stuffed tortoise as something with gleaming claws and slimy scales crawled out from under his bed.

“They aren’t really here, are they?” I asked as I watched walls attached to nothing close in on a cowering man. Both he and the walls vanished as the walls fell over him.

“Yes and no. They are real human psyches dreaming. But physically? No,” Falin said, keeping a hand at the small of my back. I wasn’t sure if the contact was for my benefit or his. What would his nightmare be? I probably didn’t want to know.

“No chance we’re just dreaming at this point, huh?” I asked as an airplane dove toward the sand, disappearing on impact.

“The same dream? You, me, and the dog?”

Okay, he had a point.

The shadows around us had been pressing closer. I thought it was probably my imagination—after all, I still wasn’t convinced there even were shadows—but between one step and the next, the shadows surged forward. A solid wall of darkness sprang up around us on all sides. There is an old saying about an abyss and the abyss staring back. This darkness stared back.

I swallowed, clutching PC tighter. Falin unsheathed his daggers. The blades gleamed, as if reflecting light I couldn’t find. I fought my enormous skirt, trying to reach my own dagger, but with PC clutched in one arm, reaching the top of my boot was no easy matter. My heart hadn’t exactly been at a calm and steady pace before, but now it crashed so loudly I could hear nothing else. I wished I wasn’t able to see either.

There were shapes in the darkness. The mind tends to try to shield itself from what it can’t handle, so it accepted only pieces. Dozens of claws here, three-inch-long fangs there, some patches of molted fur, a large pus-filled abscess, scales. The nightmares pressed closer. This is where I pinch myself and wake up, right? Except I couldn’t seem to make my body move. My mouth hung open, but I’d long since run out of air from screaming.

The darkness loomed closer. Then the nightmares poured over me. I lost sight of Falin as dozens of rough hands grabbed at my skin and tangled in my hair, my gown. I huddled around PC. He whined, a loud, high-pitched cry of panic.

I lost the ground to darkness. Lost any sense of up or down. There was just darkness and creatures. I felt like I was flying, or sliding, or maybe the nightmare realm moved around me. I didn’t know. All I knew was that the nightmares had found me. And the nightmares were taking me.

Chapter 35

Agrowl, low and rumbling, cut through the skittering and gibbering of the nightmares. I’d long since given up on reaching my dagger, or fighting the dozens of hands grabbing me, and now I simply clung to PC, trying to keep him from being ripped from my grasp. As the threatening growl sounded again, PC gave another whine of pure terror. His heartbeat fluttered against my palm, his trembling threatening to shake him apart. I wished I could comfort him, but I felt exactly the same way.

The growl sounded a third time, and then I heard a loud, meaty thunk.

The nightmares’ chittering rose in pitch before falling completely silent. Then, as quickly as the nightmares had descended, they recoiled, releasing me and drawing back. Sand crunched under my boots again, and I collapsed to my knees.

My breath escaped me in fast, shallow huffs—too fast. I was close to hyperventilating. I forced myself to take a deeper breath and hold it as I glanced around. I was alone in the darkness. All alone. No shadows. No nightmares. And no Falin.

I swallowed and took another deep breath. PC’s front paws were locked around my arm, his claws digging into my biceps. I already had several bright pink scratches from them, but as far as I could tell from my quick assessment, that was the only injury I’d sustained in the ordeal, despite the nightmares’ horrific appearances. My dress wasn’t even torn.

The darkness surged again. I tried to jump to my feet, but my legs buckled and I landed on my ass in the sand. But the darkness didn’t touch me. It churned several yards away from me and then drew back like a curtain, revealing Falin.

I climbed to my feet, forcing my shaking legs to cross the uneven sand. I stumbled more than once, and he met me halfway.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing me by the elbow and helping me keep my balance.

“I should be asking you that.” Whereas the nightmares had left me uninjured, he was covered in deep scratches, his fancy suit ruined and stained.

He looked me over, and then nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

He dropped my arm as he glanced around. Apparently satisfied that we weren’t in immediate danger, he ripped a section of more or less clean material from his ruined shirt and meticulously wiped the blood from first one and then the other dagger.

I watched for only a moment, then turned to stare out at the oppressive darkness. “Why do you think they pulled back?” I asked, searching for shadows with no source.

Falin shook his head, and the low, rumbling growl I’d heard earlier filled the darkness in front of me. I froze. Falin’s head shot up, the daggers gripped in his hands and ready to kill.

A hulking shadow separated itself from the darkness, its gait slow and cautious. At first all I could make out was its bright, red-rimmed pupils, but then I recognized the doglike form and realized I’d seen a similar creature before. It was a barghest, like the one I’d seen in the Bloom with Rianna. In fact, it might have even been the same barghest.

“Desmond?” I asked, my voice sounding every bit as frightened and unsure as I felt. So much for putting on a tough act.

The barghest inclined its head, which might have been acknowledgment or might just have meant it was preparing to attack. Its eyes flickered toward Falin, focusing on the still-exposed daggers, before moving back to me. Then the doglike fae reared back onto its hind legs. He balanced like that, straightening, and as he straightened, he changed, so by the time he stood completely erect he was a man, not a beast.

“You should not be in the nightmare realm, old friend of my Shadow Girl,” he said, striding forward.

Falin stepped in front of me, blocking the barghest’s path, and the beast-turned-man stopped. It regarded us with eyes that hadn’t changed in the least, still dark with pupils ringed in red. His hair had the inky blackness of his beast form’s coat, and it blended with the dark cloak he wore like living shadows pulled around his body.

I placed a hand on Falin’s arm. He would be able to feel the tremble in my fingers, but I didn’t want him to attack the barghest unless he truly posed a threat. Shadow Girl was a name the fae had given Rianna, and I hadn’t missed the possessive he’d used when he referred to her. Besides, I’d heard him growl before the nightmares had retreated. He may well have been the reason they’d fled. Whether that meant he was helping us or not was yet to be determined. First I wanted to confirm that he was who I thought. “You’re Desmond, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “That is one name I’ve used. Now we must leave this place. The denizens of Faerie are forbidden in this realm.”

Why would they want to come here in the first place? I didn’t ask that question. Instead I asked, “Do you know the way out?”

Again Desmond nodded. I glanced at Falin. His eyes were narrowed, his expression wary, but he shrugged. What choice did we have? It wasn’t like we were doing so well at finding a way out on our own. Falin sheathed one dagger, but he kept the second one in his hand, though he pointed it at the ground, not at Desmond.

“Which way?” I asked, turning my attention back to Desmond.

“Oh, this is good,” a new voice said, making me jump.

“The Winter Queen’s bloodied hands, a barghest, and a planeweaver all walk into a nightmare. What will the punch line be?”

I whirled around. There had been nothing but sand behind me before, but now, not three feet away, stood a large black chair covered in intricate carvings that reminded me a little too much of the nightmares. And in the chair was a fae, his feet kicked over one ornate arm, and his back leaning against the other, his hands behind his head. He wore a grin that looked comfortable on his face, a very Cheshire cat–like expression, as if he had a secret that amused him at our expense. Dark hair fell around his high cheekbones in the kind of chaotic rumple that had to be intentional. I realized as I looked at that goth-emo hair that he was the first Sleagh Maith I’d seen with hair shorter than shoulder length.

PC growled, and I rubbed his head absently, trying to shush him as I stared at the newcomer. He hadn’t been there a moment before, but I could see through glamour, and both he and the chair were real. Judging by the thronelike seat, I guessed we must have found the local royalty. But hadn’t Desmond said this place was forbidden to the fae?

“Are you the king of the nightmare realm?” I asked.