The Nightmare (The Mist #2) - Regine Abel Page 0,6

put one foot in front of the other. My wretched stalker had resumed dragging his claws on the glass, clearly trying to irritate the hell out of me, and likely to frighten me. He was some sort of bully, and I wasn’t one to allow myself to be pushed around.

Maybe a third of the way in, I stopped advancing to glare at him. “Cut it out!” I said, although he probably didn’t hear me through the thick windows. “You’re not scaring me with this, just annoying the fuck out of me. If you’re going to stalk, do so in silence.”

Although I’d known it would be as effective as throwing stones at the rain to tell it to go away, it had felt good to take an assertive stance. I’d let my fears overwhelm me from the moment that woman had mentioned not to be afraid before we disembarked from the shuttle. That wasn’t… Or rather, that was no longer me.

To my surprise, the Mistwalker stopped and pressed his palm to the glass, turning to fully face me. He seemed to wait expectantly for me to do something. On instinct, I took a couple of steps towards the window to have a better look at him. Despite the absence of features on his face where only his yellow eyes glowed, he clearly perked up at this response. Aside from the way his ethereal body moved closer to the window, I couldn’t say how I seemed to know what expression flittered over his shadowy face.

He placed his other palm against the window, his eyes glowing with accrued intensity. With a will of its own, my right hand pressed against his left. He stared at my hand with an air of disbelief and rubbed his over mine, as if he could feel it through the thick glass. My palm tingled. I couldn’t say if it was real or just my imagination messing with me.

“Naima…” the Mistwalker whispered in my head with something akin to reverence.

The ghostly, ethereal sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. But it wasn’t fear that had provoked it. It was beautifully haunting, deep, and gravelly, and yet breathy.

I opened my mouth to ask him his name when the sudden appearance of a bright light on his side of the window, at the other end of the corridor startled the both of us. My head jerked right to look at it, stunned to see some sort of luminous globe moving towards us. I then noticed the most stunning creature following it. A giant seahorse, the size of a five-year-old child, with a white unicorn horn and giant fairy wings, was flying towards the light, mesmerized, like I had been by the Cthulhu Beast. The creature looked diaphanous, its body shimmering with soft, pastel colors, and translucent scales that shone like so many diamonds. With the trail of what I could only call pixie dust behind it, you could have sworn the creature had come right out of a fairy tale.

I yelped at a loud bang on the window. My head snapped back towards the Mistwalker who, had he possessed features, would have likely been snarling. Could he actually be jealous? I no sooner cast a sideways glance at the seahorse, unable to resist its lure, than the Mistwalker viciously clawed the glass before darting towards the stunning creature. I immediately started running forward towards its location.

“NOOOOO!” I shouted when the Mistwalker grabbed the seahorse by long and slender neck and aligned its face with his.

To my surprise, the fairy didn’t struggle or attempt to flee. It remained passive and didn’t even try to continue pursuing the light sphere as its line of sight with it had been severed by the Mistwalker. Even when his assailant began siphoning its lifeforce, the seahorse fairy stayed stoic.

I frantically tapped on the window. “Stop! Stop! Please!”

He abruptly stopped. That last word appeared to have gotten through to him—although I still couldn’t be certain he could hear me through the glass. He turned his yellow eyes towards me, and our gazes locked in a silent contest.

“Please, Mistwalker. PLEASE!” I pleaded again when he appeared intent on resuming draining the seahorse.

His entire body seemed to relax, and he looked at me with what I could only interpret as a satisfied expression.

He enjoys this! He enjoys being begged. He enjoys this power…

He slowly glided towards me, his fingers still firmly wrapped around the creature’s neck.

“Zain,” he said in my mind.

“Zain?” I repeated, forcing myself

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