I turn and catch my reflection in the dark windowpane, and moonlight catches the smeared remains of my lipstick.My eyes are dark, fathomless pools that look utterly demonic and terrifying.
I smile at my reflection, at the woman looking back.The liar.The manipulator.The weapon honed on the whetstone of humanity’s rot.
The queen ruling her court of monsters.
Chapter 7
Eddie
Iwaketothesound of breathing that isn’t mine.
The room is dark, unfamiliar, with too many thick shadows.For a disorienting second, I don’t remember where I am.Then Sera shifts beside me, her bare shoulder pale against the blanket, and it comes back in a rush.
Her house.Her bed.This is the first time I’ve stayed overnight because I can’t seem to stay away from her.My body is too fevered to resist her, and my mind is too affected by her, so much that she consumes most of my thoughts.All I want to do is be inside of her, stay close to her, and ensure her safety.
I exhale slowly, willing my heart to settle.From the depth of darkness outside the window, I can tell it’s too early to be awake, so I close my eyes and try to drift.
Sometime later, I’m running across the walls.My bare feet leave bloody prints on vertical surfaces that shouldn’t hold weight.I’m chasing something—or being chased.The distinction blurs.
The hallway stretches impossibly long, multiple doors on the floor and ceiling, each one identical.Even though I don’t want to, I reach for one, and it opens.
Sheriff Vincent Harrow stands on the other side, holding a manila folder with my name on it.
“You know the rules,” he says.“You break them, you pay.”
I slam the door and run, but the hallway folds origami-style, and suddenly I’m back where I started.Yet again I don’t want to, but I open another door.
Sera sits at a table in an interrogation room, her hands cuffed.She looks at me with those pained, fathomless eyes.
“You could have saved me,” she says quietly.“Why didn’t you?”
“That’s not—“ I start, but the door slams shut on me.
I turn, and the walls are covered now, floor to ceiling, with evidence photos of crime scenes I’ve worked.
The ceiling lowers.The walls press in.I can’t breathe.Can’t move.The photographs peel away, and underneath is just one word, repeated over and over in blood:
MONSTER.MONSTER.MONSTER.
I jerk awake, gasping.My heart thunders against my ribs.Sweat slicks my chest.
Sera is propped on one elbow, watching me, her hand squeezing my shoulder.
“Nightmare?”she asks gently.
I blow out a heavy breath.“Yeah.”
She traces a finger down my sternum.“You were talking in your sleep.”
“What did I say?”
“Something about monsters, over and over.”Her eyes search mine in the dim early morning light.“What about monsters?”
I sit up, running both hands through my damp hair.“No idea.Just dream nonsense.”
She opens her mouth to say something and then decides not to, like she’s archiving this moment for later use.
“I should go,” I say.“I need to get to work.”
