The Nightmare King (The Kings Book 11)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Fate, it would seem, was finally on his side.

  Adelaide took his offered card automatically; it was simply the polite thing to do. Then she stepped back. “Thank you,” she said cautiously. “Again.”

  He knew that as far as she was concerned, her entire government would be out to get her right about now, and that knowledge was plain in her expression as she re-pocketed her phone along with his card and her mind spun. He could almost hear the gears whirring.

  “I’m sorry. Please excuse me,” she said suddenly, and stepped to the side, brushing past him on her way to the elevators.

  *****

  The strangest sensation moved through Addie when her arm touched the arm of the man in the bar. It was almost like a feeling of familiarity, and it set off the psychic feelers in her head. She slowed as she passed him, and even glanced at him over her shoulder. He was watching her still, with those vivid green eyes.

  A vision overtook her.

  At once, her surroundings vanished, to be replaced by images. They flashed through her mind. Horrible flashes, each filled to the brim with death, passed one after another across the screen of her consciousness. She saw a hillside covered in crosses where men and women were left hanging to die. She watched battles with spears and shields, where warriors ran over the corpses of the fallen to attack or get away. Then further back… a medieval war of stones and boiling oil, slaves in chains, their faces pale and gaunt, their expressions hopeless. Further back… dark caverns somewhere time had forgotten, superstition and fire playing shadows across the rock walls. Two men met in ancient battle, a roar of rage and desperation filling the network of caverns, and shaking stalactites free from the ceiling.

  And then Addie was standing in the lobby again, halfway between the elevators and the green-eyed stranger, and she had to tell herself to breathe.

  Who the hell are you? she thought helplessly. Her mind spun and her heart hammered. But reality was still there, pressing like a thorn in her side, urging her to move her feet and hide her face.

  She turned away from him again, but noticed that this time, it was difficult, as if he’d captured her in some sort of tractor beam and she was ripping free of it. But all of her inner alarm bells were already sounding, so this detail went on a backburner. She picked up her pace toward the elevators ahead, her gaze trained on the sliding metal doors.

  They were closing, and she felt desperate. “Hold the doors, please!” she called ahead. Suddenly, a man’s hand slammed down on the side of the door, holding it open. She caught the flash of a shining wristwatch, and the smooth, tailored material of an expensive suit, and then she was half-running onto the elevator through the space between the doors.

  The doors were released behind her, and she turned to face her savior. “Thank you so much; I didn’t think I was… going….” Her voice trailed off.

  This is impossible.

  There was a beat before either of them spoke. Then the man gave her a killer smile. “It’s not a problem.”

  They were the same words the Englishman had spoken, which added to the surreal, because he looked exactly like the Englishman. Exactly like him! The only difference between them was that the man behind her had possessed green eyes, and the man in the elevator possessed gray.

  They could have been twins. However, this man’s accent hinted at Irish origins. She would recognize that beautiful lilt anywhere. Her father had been Irish.

  “In fact,” he said, and she felt the world tilt under her feet and the air go out of the space around her. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nicholas could not believe his ears when he heard that voice call out to hold the elevator. He looked up, saw the woman rushing toward him, and before he’d even caught a glimpse of her face, his body responded with the force of a thousand fates. He moved without thinking, without realizing. Because he couldn’t think. Her essence washed over him like a wave, and he was drowning.

  He shoved the elevator doors open with the unnatural strength he already once again possessed, and watched her jump into the elevator. It struck the man in him – the predator – that she was running as if something were on her tail. She had the appearance of prey, and the wolf was right behind her.

  He looked up; nature demanded that he do so. Every neuron was firing, every nerve ending staticking to life, and he felt his eyes heat up – as his gaze met that of none other than his Challenger.

  Nero stood at the center of the lobby beyond the elevators, his tall body stalk-still, his piercing green eyes focused on Nick’s with a fierceness that was palpable. And Nicholas gave the same. The monster in him snapped to vicious life. It was vital and primal and ancient:

  One woman. Two men.

  And there had never been a battle Nicholas was more prepared to fight. He calmly moved forward, pressing the “close doors” button on the elevator’s panel as his eyes tore holes in his Challenger and his lips curled into a warning smile.

  She’s mine, the smile told Nero. And it’s nice to see you again.

  In the brief seconds before the doors slid completely shut, Nero smiled back. It was a mirror image, an echoed warning, and a like-wise promise. Ditto. And you too. And by the way, this time I’m going to kill you for sure.

  Nicholas turned away as the doors shut for good, and the woman spun to face him in the small space occupied by her, Nicholas, and his two Preceptors.

  “Thank you so much,” she breathed thankfully. “I didn’t think I was… going….” The woman’s sweet, slightly raspy voice faltered as she met his gaze.

  And so did Nicholas. He faltered big time.

  Adelaide… her name whispered through his mind like a breeze through a forest. Her spirit smelled like cherry blossoms and Pez dispensers. It was the youthful scent of hope, of dreams not yet realized but waiting on the horizon. Her eyes were deep brown doorways to another world. It was a universe of kindness, of pain, and of empathy. Every beautiful deed, every hard-learned mistake, every regret and wish and secret longing of hers was laced with the pixie dust of goodness. Her soul splayed out before him like a million-petalled flower, brilliant, multi-hued, and impossible. She was then and there, in the thousands of years of his existence, the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

  And he knew in that moment not only that she was the queen, but more importantly, he understood why. It all made sense now. His life made sense. For the first time in that life, he realized it really hadn’t ever made sense before.

  “It’s not a problem,” he said softly, stepping forward because he couldn’t help but do so. “In fact,” he added as he smiled. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Boy had he never meant that more than he did then.

  Someone behind him cleared his throat, and a female voice he was too familiar with spoke up. “What floor do you need, miss?” Minnaea asked.

  Adelaide blinked. As she hesitated, Nicholas took more in, inhaling her presence as if he were about to dive deep. Her thick, wavy hair was the color of a young acorn, that precious and new brown that hinted at possibilities. It was currently in slight disarray, beautifully ruffled by her brief flight across the lobby. Her skin was caramel gold, with the kiss of the sun across the apples of her cheeks. Her lips were full and slightly pink, and those had seen sun recently as well.

  His eyes traced her outline with a growing hunger, grazing over her chin, and down the long, slim length of her neck. The collar of her white tee-shirt hung down just enough on one side to reveal her collarbone, and Nicholas struggled with the impulse to kiss it.

  “Um,” she said softly – too softly. She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to clear it. He felt like crowing with victory that he could have had such an effect on her. “Floor seven please,” she said, eyes still closed. She turned away from him to face the control panel on the elevator before she opened her eyes again. “Thank you,” she said, this time addressing Minnaea.

  Minnaea smiled and gave a slight nod. Andros, for his part, was
watching the proceedings in stoic silence and palpable interest. The elevator began to rise. Less than two seconds later, it slowed, and the doors dinged open again. “Floor seven is lit for you,” said Minnaea. “But this is our floor.” She turned and looked at her husband, who smiled and joined her beside the doors. “We’re getting off here.”

  Both Preceptors nodded at their king, who tried not to grin, and stepped off the elevator onto what was obviously a spa floor. They moved out into the hall and the doors proceeded to close behind them. Minnaea glanced over her shoulder at Nick just before they shut completely. Don’t screw this up, her expression said.

  And then Nicholas was alone with his future Nightmare Queen, and the elevator was going up.

  Chapter Ten

  “You were supposed to destroy the aircraft.”

  Evangeline looked up at the Entity through the tops of her vivid lavender colored eyes. Her gaze narrowed. “I think we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.”

  He was silent for a moment before he said, “I could have destroyed it myself.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  The Entity slowly turned to face her. White eyes captured hers, no pupil, no iris. Just a vast fog that someone might get lost in.

  But she wasn’t afraid. She had never been afraid of him, in fact. It was that stupid stubborn streak she’d inherited from her mother. Plus, she happened to know he was weak right now. She was perceptive enough to figure out that all the chair-hopping he’d been doing with bodies lately, and the number of times they’d died on him… well, it had taken its toll. She could feel it.

  “Were you testing me?” She asked. “You know… I don’t test well. It’s one of the many, many reasons I was homeschooled.”

  The Entity still didn’t say anything, but now he slipped his hands into his pockets, looked at the floor, and began pacing away from the window he’d been peering through. What was it with supernaturals and their fascination with windows? Eva’d found over the years that they did that a lot, stared out the window. And they almost never booked a room or an office or purchased a home that didn’t have floor-to-ceiling window panes through which to gaze.

  “I would caution you, young Legend, against toying with me,” he said. He stopped, pulled his right hand out of his pocket, and looked down at his manicured nails.

  The Entity never used her given name. Instead, he referred to her as the “Legend.” That was most likely because she was literally the stuff of legends. It was the secret she’d carried her entire life. And probably, he wanted to remind her as often as possible that he knew that secret. Knowing what she really was meant that he had a certain amount of power over her.

  It was bizarre to see a creature as evil as the Entity clothed in the form of a relatively handsome and normal-looking businessman. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his light brown hair had been professionally trimmed, and apparently so had his nails. It was surreal. “This is not a game,” he told her calmly. “And neither am I.”

  Eva knee-jerked a response. “I don’t play games. So, no worries there.” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him as ideas and thoughts and doubts began to blossom throughout the gardens of her mind. She put up a strong front, but inside, she was beginning to churn.

  “The new queen is wanted by her government now,” he continued, his tone even and emotionless. “Ultimately this will make getting to her more difficult. Your failure has cost me.”

  Eva didn’t say anything. What could she say? The Entity had wanted her to capture the new queen, and when the new queen had suddenly freaking vanished mid-flight, he’d wanted her to destroy the plane – and everyone on it.

  The request had taken her by surprise, to say the least. It went against all of the reasons she’d decided to help him in the first place. There were some generals who would say, “The sacrifice of the one or few for the many,” or some such nonsense. But that didn’t matter to the individuals being sacrificed.

  So… yeah, she’d failed.

  “You lack a healthy fear,” the Entity sighed. “It’s a fault of your overall youth, I imagine. But you don’t have to be as old as Lalura Chantelle was for you to meet an end at my hand, Legend.”

  “She didn’t ‘meet her end,’ by your hand,” she countered cautiously. There was no point pushing the envelope with him. “It was your lapdog who ultimately carried out your wishes.” She really wished she knew who the Traitor was, who it was that had been doing the Entity’s dirty work. But it was a secret the Entity had kept even from her. “And….” She measured her words, because this question was one she actually wanted an answer to. “What makes you so positive the Traitor was successful?” She looked at him over her shoulder.

  At once, his eerie white eyes captured her gaze.

  In that moment, something in the room changed. The air grew thick, as thick as the fog in his eyes, and Eva felt as though she couldn’t draw breath without effort. There was a sound, like a buzzing, that hummed low and eerie. It was a warning.

  Heat enveloped her, followed by a fast and hard cold. Goosebumps raised across her pale flesh, and beads of sweat broke out along her brow. She exhaled slowly, and steeled her nerves. She didn’t want to show it, but fear had at last found its way into her system.

  Maybe he wasn’t as weak as she thought.

  The Entity smiled. It was a disturbing smile, as he allowed the corners of his mouth to spread far beyond the normal reaches of a human mouth, encompassing the whole lower half of his face. “You tell me, little Legend,” he said. His voice had become gravelly and laced with something that sounded like poison whispers. “Has the witch come to call recently?”

  Eva swallowed, but her throat was dry, and she almost coughed from the effort.

  The Entity released her from his dangerous gaze and continued his nonchalant perusal of his fingernails. “By the way,” he said casually. “I didn’t miss the fact that you failed in that job as well. It was your task before it was ‘my lapdog’s,’ as you so elegantly put it.”

  Now Eva’s mind began to turn. She searched for excuses, and that alone forced her to admit she was frightened. Only people who were afraid went to the trouble of looking for excuses. “She’s strong for a reason,” she said. That much was true, so it was easy.

  “Oh, I agree she was strong,” said the Entity, correcting the tense to push home the fact he believed Chantelle to be dead. “The man who eventually finished the job was permanently injured in the attempt. However….” His voice trailed off, he lowered his hand, and his eyes again found hers. “That isn’t the sole reason you failed. Is it?”

  Eva went cold. No. It wasn’t the sole reason.

  “I can’t say I blame you, strictly speaking,” he went on. “I can imagine there is some sort of mortality within you that still cherishes the bond between mother and child. And it can’t have been easy being tasked with killing your own mother.”

  There was nothing Evangeline could say. All she could do was wonder how long he’d known. And she could only wonder whether he knew everything. That wouldn’t be good.

  “Mind you, it isn’t your lineage that troubles me, young Legend. It’s the fact that twice you’ve been tasked with something, and twice you’ve failed me.”

  That sensation of something wrong in the room intensified. It seemed to grow darker around them, as if the sun were setting. But it was still early afternoon. In those moments, Eva began to question her own decisions. She doubted her choices. And she had to steadfastly remind herself of why she’d done what she’d done in the first place.

  The Entity had made her a promise. If the goddess Amunet was awoken, the hatred on the planet would find a home within her. Like Pandora’s box, it would be contained once more. Religious, racial, and sexual intolerance, war, terrorism, rape, random acts of insane violence… they would end. Amunet would house the negative emotions of an entire world. That’s what he’d told her.

  And perhaps like a fool, she’d believed him. She’d be
lieved him because she’d grown up learning that Entities – plural – could not lie. Known by many names, they were ultimate spirits, ageless and timeless, reborn into different races and sexes throughout the annals of time and space. They were good and they were bad. But they were so powerful, they had little to fear and hence no reason to hide their true natures, so they didn’t.

  She knew this because she’d grown up with one. Close and personal.

  “Not to worry,” the Entity said suddenly. His smile was broad and terrible. The air let up, the wrongness faded just like that, and Eva could easily breathe again.

  But that terrible, too-broad smile remained. “I won’t hold it against you. So long as you don’t let it happen again.”

  He seemed positively cheery as he issued his ultimatum. And Eva turned away to face the window, finding herself gazing through it and into the distance like all those other supernaturals before her.

  Chapter Eleven

  A tense silence filled the elevator as the doors closed, chimed, and the elevator was rising once more. Adelaide stayed facing those closed doors and squeezed her eyes shut. Her breathing was shallow, her heart pounding a waterfall in her ears.

  “You seem troubled,” came that beautiful voice from behind her. It was deep and lilted, a sound like the difference between typed words and those written in calligraphy. More importantly, somehow it sounded… capable. All of a sudden, she wanted to tell him everything, confide in him. His presence at her back was literally warm in temperature, as if he were radiating a heat brighter and more powerful than that of a normal man.

  She heard the leather sole of his shoe strike closer.

  Oh, Christ.

  “Is there by any chance,” he began as he closed the distance between them in two easy steps, “anything I can do to help?” He was right beside her, only inches away. A sensation of pleasure washed over her, raising her flesh in goose bumps. Her toes tingled and her fingers zapped. It felt a little like the beginnings of hyperventilation. Was she about to have a panic attack?