Once Upon a Nightmare

which monster

xxii: which monster

Blowing out a semi-irritated breath, I brush my fear off my arms. "Hi, Sweeney." What's she doing here? It's possible she saw me come in, but I don't know why she'd want to talk to me. "Or Nyx, I guess," I add.

"Sweeney," she corrects, with that voice that sounds like an eighty-year-old woman, despite her hot pink lips and young skin—what little there is to see. "You came to say goodbye to Gloom."

I nod, not bothering to voice my affirmation. Even with the bandages on her eyes, I get the feeling Sweeney sees better than anyone. She leans heavy on her scythe. Her dress is gray and filled with rotting lace. As the only other Nightmare who really knew Gloom, she might be the only person who understands my pain.

"You have Gloom's power?" Her voice cracks and I realize it's the other way around. Her pain is worse than mine. She's thousands of years old and the fear of the unknown; I don't know if she's the type to have normal kind of friends. But if she did, then Gloom would have been one of them.

I take the swirling purple marble out of my jacket pocket. When I asked Genn for a pair of jeans, she looked at me like I was requesting to wear live snakes around my waist. So I'm in a long skirt, but the black jacket hugging my shoulders has pockets.

"May I?" she asks, extending a hand.

"Please give it back," I whisper, but I pass it over without hesitation.

She does give it back, and when she does, Gloom's power is encased in an elaborate iron clasp, strung through with a dark chain. I slip it over my neck. "Thanks."

"Can I give you something else?"

"Yes?"

She levels her scythe over her open palms and extends it to me like an offering.

I stare it, not wanting to touch it, and not wanting to offend her by stepping back, away from it. "Um—why do you want me to—"

"I'm very tired, Violet," she says. "I've lived so long and observed human minds to such an extent that I can do almost everything the Jewel of Imagination can do. And yet, there are limits, because I can’t see. Every day there is something new to learn, in spite of my long life. You will see what I cannot.”

Slowly, I start to catch on to what she's saying. "What am I supposed to do with it? I'm a human with an expiration date, in case you forgot."

"Alexander shepherded you into this world, he is your link to getting out. With my power, the actions of everyone but yourself is known to you. Your situation is . . . unique. It will show you how to use that bond."

"Why do you care if I get home?" She hasn't shown too much interest in my well-being before—as Nyx or as Sweeney.

"Gloom cared."

For the first time, a hint of something creeps into my confused resolve. Curiosity, maybe? Unless she loved him. I don't particularly want to think about why her scythe is related to my bond with Alexander. If this turns out to be another his-life-for-mine thing, forget it. I'm not biting.

"Um, Sweeney—"

The door swings open and reveals a shadowy form. If I didn't recognize the shape of his silhouette, the feathered wings rising off his back, then the click of his gun as he cocks it would have given him away. Sweeney's back is to him. She doesn't turn, but her mouth curls into a smile.

My skin starts to mist, but I force it down. I won't give him the satisfaction.

Donovan tilts his head up. Even in the shadow of his hat, I can see his eyes, like two green flat buttons. They have no depth, utterly lifeless. It chills me worse than his rage ever has.