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And…coconut?
A muttered curse whispers behind me as the sounds of nature take on a slightly eerie edge.
Turning, I find a monster peering at his claws.
Black streaks up his sharp fingertips, as though it feeds into his veins. He’s towering. At least two feet taller, if not three. The black whites of his eyes pillow his red irises and pour into the corners, cutting across his cheeks in inky streaks similar to the veins that run up his arms.
My lips part, because even though I haven’t dreamed since I was a child, I know I have never had a nightmare before.
Never once.
And yet…
This creature, this almost man, marks the point that slices my dream in half. Where he starts, the world I’ve made behind him turns to ashes and horror. The sky is jet cut through with lightning clouds above his head. The grass rots. The playing rabbits fight and bite and foam at mouths too small to hold all their new needly teeth.
The creature glances at me. Then looks behind him. And swears again.
My brows crash low as this time the swear registers in a familiar tone of voice. “No,” I whisper.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Pollux?” I grimace and tap my knuckles together in a steady beat. “What did my brain do to you?” I trail toward him. As I circle him, flowers burst in the wake of my steps to regain what he’s stolen. Lifting his hand, I examine the very tasteful talons my insipid subconscious clearly decided he was missing. “At least it suits you.”
His eyes widen, ever so slightly. “You…think so?”
“Sure. Now you look like the monster I clearly believe you to be.”
He takes a step back, crushing one of my flowers into dust.
I disregard him. “It’s been so long since I’ve dreamed.” I lower myself into the grass, feel the warm blades against my hands as petals sprout and overtake my nightgown. “I remember this feeling. Of safety and control.” I whip my attention back toward Pollux. “I could stab you, you know? Just like I’ve wanted to.” I splay in the grass, tap my fingers against the ground. “But I’ll be nice, as long as you are. After all, dreams exist to help us make sense of our confusing realities. I’m obviously stressed and need to process something concerning you.” I curl my hands into fists. “Or…maybe I just need to vent all this frustration.”
My brain obliges my thoughts and wraps Pollux up in a giant Whac-A-Mole, complete with sentient floating hammer. Pollux’s red and black eyes go massive as he ducks out of the way before the rubber mallet crashes into his head. He swears, and something in my chest pinches as he pulls the machine apart to escape. The pieces of my bright arcade game shrivel, turn abandoned-carnival shades with peeling paint, then wither from his hands.
I pout.
“You…” He stares at me, fumbling for words. “Why?”
“Why what?”
He throws a hand behind him, at the rest of the busted mess he made.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.” I direct the still-floating mallet his way.
He lifts his hand above his head, grips the mallet when it comes crashing down, and lets it rot from his fingers into a black goop all around him. He growls, “I cannot fathom why you’re attacking me. I came to make sure you were well, Kassandra. If you want a fight, I’m content to oblige, but not until we have spoken.”
My heart responds to that. For some reason.
He continues, “You worried me this afternoon, and we never got a chance to talk privately about what was troubling you, if you were ready to.” Pollux takes a deep, calming breath and lowers himself to the dirt near me. Lifting a hand, he carefully uses a claw tip to trace the line of my cheek. “I’ll leave if you don’t want me here. I know this form might be uncomfortable to look at. I’m sorry that, here, I can only make it worse. This is just all part of what it means to be…what I am.”
I look up at him and remember how Andromeda says they’re both unseelie and their magic is scary. Clearly, my brain is defining the scary well. I wonder what it will come up with to call all of this. “Meda has never mentioned what sort of faerie you both are. She’s told me about dryads and moth royals and vampire cats and werewolves—”
“Canines,” he corrects. “Werecanines. Werewolves aren’t real.”
“Right.” I do believe Andromeda told me that exact same thing once.
Pollux opens his mouth wide enough for me to see his sharp teeth as he releases a sigh. “She’s not told you what we are? At all?”
“She likes to leave it at scary. She’s very careful about discussing anything too personal.” For reasons I can only shudder to assume.
