Once Upon a Nightmare

merrymount

xiii: merrymount

 

Donovan contacts me the next morning as promised. A letter appears as I pace before the Crooked Books’n’Nooks display window. Donovan’s outside, waiting at a corner. A whole day, that’s how long it’s been. Alexander had his chance to apologize. Not that he really could, since I commanded him to leave me alone. Still, I doubt it’s been that hard on him. I hear Gloom descending the stairs and I rip up the letter as if he’s coming to personally interrogate me for the crime I’m about to commit. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better.”

He begins sorting books on his mismatched shelves. “Oh—I meant to ask you. Did you pull out this history book yesterday?” He holds up the thick book Donovan and I read together.

“Um—yeah. That was me.”

“I saw it open to Queen Hina’s history.” He shakes his head. “Those were dark times. Sometimes I wonder if these Dreams fighting against Jack even remember what it was like under her rule . . .” He replaces the book.

“So, I’m going out,” I say as if I can’t hear him. I’ve made my decision, regardless of any historical nuances. Desperate measures, and all that.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, to uh . . . you know. Patch things up with Alexander.”

“That’s an excellent plan.” Gloom’s unexpected encouragement and wide smile of relief make me feel guilty (and also suspicious of his loyalty to my Hate-Alexander-Forever cause), but I don’t dare tell him. If this really is a bad decision, I don’t want to know yet.

“Have I ever told you what my power is, Violet?”

That catches me off guard. “No,” I say. I smile. “Is it the ability to read really fast? Because that would be my power.”

He returns my smile. “No, though I do read fast.” He walks over to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. The gesture is so quietly affectionate, I almost crack, but I keep it in, pressing my lips together. I can’t lose my nerve. “As the love of gothic literature, I can see anyone’s darkest story.”

Understanding stiffens my spine. “Oh.”

“I know Prince Alexander has hurt you, Violet,” he continues softly. “But he has his own share of hurt to deal with. He wants to help you.”

“Okay.” My smile is totally fake, and I think Gloom sees that, but he doesn’t stop me. He lets go of my shoulder and I meet Donovan outside on the street.

Maybe Gloom can see Alexander’s darkest story, but that doesn’t mean he can see Alexander’s character. He’s still a lying, self-centered jerk who would be only too happy if I vanished forever.

. . . . . . . . .

Donovan nods his acknowledgement and together we go to Merrymount—in a carriage, no less. It’s old-fashioned, straight out of a Stoker novel, and doesn’t stand out too much in Chimera, but probably won’t draw unwanted attention in the Dream city either.

The little I’ve seen of the Isle of Morpheus’s other side has been in Alexander’s dreams and I’m expecting something like the Woodland Pastures—rolling fields, giant cotton candy oaks, and jelly-bean plants. The actual Merrymount is a bright, gaudy metropolis. It’s not as cramped and aggressive as Chimera—sort of spacious and melodic—but my eyes water trying to take in all the sparkly goodness.

Through the carriage window, I swear I can hear something, like itty-bitty bells inside the air tinkling with the breeze. It’s vaguely creepy, and I glance back at Donovan. He doesn’t seem any more comfortable than I do.