The door slams, but not before I see Riven’s face warp with rage. Half a dozen bands flicker across his living mask, the surface rippling like liquid amber.
“Luca.” I clear my throat. “In the interest of making it off this realm alive, maybe you shouldn’t call him that again.”
Luca hisses and begins to pace. In the light of the fire, he’s hanging on by a thread. I let it go, unsure how to help him calm down.
Malach moves silently to his broken cot, flips it over, and forces the mangled leg straight again. He tests the wobble, thensits. “I’m proportional,” he says quietly. “In case you were wondering.”
Luca’s mouth drops open, his right eye twitches, and I lose it, throwing my head back and laughing until my sides hurt.
We may be torn to pieces in a week or less, but I’ve never been less alone. I’m terrified of losing that. The only thing worse would be never having felt it at all.
ELEVEN
Monster Realm Survival Tip #3:
Always know your way out.
CELINE
“Do we even want to know what those noises were last night?”
“Absolutely not.” Ciprian glances at me and shudders. “People who question noises never survive horror movies.”
“A million screams from a thousand tortured souls,” I say, rolling my neck in loose circles.
“I never want to hear the real thing again, but I’m going to log it away for future nightmares.” Ciprian’s hair is messy, standing in chaotic blond spikes. The dark circles under his eyes add to the contrast.
I arch my back, switching between the cat and cow yoga poses. I need to keep my body moving. I’m worn out from fighting and healing, but if I stay still today, I’ll pay for it tomorrow.
“What does it feel like?” I ask. “Creating a nightmare.”
Ciprian hums low in his throat and considers my question. “It’s hard to explain because a lot is instinctual, but I guess it’ssimilar to painting a picture. I think about what I want to create, then I add details and layers, weaving them in with pieces of magic.”
I nod. “How does the fear come in?”
“The fear fuels the magic. If I’m running low, the picture won’t be convincing—too thin or with missing chunks. It’s like trying to write with a pen that’s almost out of ink.”
“Good thing there’s plenty of fear to eat here.” I roll into a standing pose and knock my shoulder against his to make sure he knows I’m joking.
Most of the time we’ve known each other, things have been heavy. Ciprian talks about weaving details into his nightmares, but if someone were to ask me to describe him, would I be able to do him justice? I don’t even know how he orders a burger. Maybe it’s not a big deal, but it bothers me.
His forehead wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what you like,” I admit, forcing a smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Condiments, for example.” I rock back on my heels. “Ketchup, mustard, mayo. Are you a salt and vinegar guy? What about horseradish?”
Ciprian raises his eyebrows, then grins as if I’m not acting crazy. “First of all, fuck mustard. Yes to ketchup and mayo. Horseradish tastes good, but I hate the smell, and salt and vinegar is awesome, but only if you’re home alone.”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“It’s criminal to eat salt and vinegar chips if you’re going to be breathing on someone. And if you’re desperate to kiss them?” He steps into my space and drags his lips along the curve of my neck. “Then salt and vinegar should be banned.”
I chuckle. “You have strong opinions about chips. Anything else I should know?”
He hums against my throat, and my skin pebbles. “Nothingtastes as good as you, not even coffee. That should tell you how serious I am, because I might actually be the first person in recorded history to die of caffeine withdrawal.”
