Nightmare's Flight

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Author's Note Dedication Acknowledgements About the Author Other Works Nightmare’s Flight A Reverse Harem Tale Dreambound, Book 3 All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2023 by Dakota Brown Cover Design © 2022 Open World Covers All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors imaginations and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Inkwolf Press P.O. Box 473 Ault, Colorado 80610 www.inkwolfpress.com PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Ember Wind swirled through the stalks of corn, the rustle of the field momentarily drowning out the laughter of children playing in the distance. I pushed my feet against the ground, a rock shifting in the dirt under my foot as I got the swing back as far as it would go. Rope creaked and metal groaned when I lifted my feet and let go. The swing reached the end of its arc and went backward. I laughed at the freedom of the simple motion, understanding why the kids liked it so much. I frowned, not sure what bothered me about that thought. A familiar sight distracted me from my confusion. The broad shouldered, muscular frame of my partner, Geraint, came into view and a trio of towheaded children raced after him. All four of them laughing. Something was strange about that, too. The corn rustled again. I hopped off the swing, shivering in the bright sunlight. The sky was robin’s egg blue, the grass a verdant green, the farmhouse with the wrap-around porch whitewashed and homey. I hurried over to Geraint, wanting to run my hands through his sandy blond hair and look deeply into his stormy gray eyes. “Mom!” the trio of boys shouted. They grabbed my legs while I folded myself into Geraint’s arms. I looked up, but his eyes were flat black, expressionless, the smile on his face somehow fake. He hugged me, but it felt mechanical. The boys all tugged at me, their playful banter turning angry and their touch painful. “Ow!” I batted their hands away. They had the same flat black eyes and empty smiles that Geraint had. What was going on? Geraint’s hands tightened on my arms, bruising me. “Ow!” I said again. “Stop!” “Stop! Stop! Stop!” the kids chanted. I jerked away and fled, running for the shelter of the corn stalks. They welcomed me, bidding me to enter, to run, to give them my fear so they could take it away and use the energy to expand. I was safe in the corn. Nothing could ever get me here. Sinking down to my knees, I let the corn shelter me from the relentless sun, hide me from the creatures that had attacked me, and the coolness of the dirt take away the heat. My sweat cooled, and I leaned back. I was so tired. It would be so easy to stay here forever and let the corn protect me. The stalks rustled, and a vine reached for my leg. I vaguely remembered fighting off the vines some other time. Corn didn’t have vines and I had no idea what it was, but it wanted me. I could barely even remember who I was. Why it wanted me, I couldn’t even imagine. I was out of fear. Out of energy. It wouldn’t get anything useful from attacking me. Still, it crept toward me. I was tired of fighting. If the vine wanted to wrap around my leg, I didn’t care anymore. The last time, it had taken everything I had to free myself and that freedom had only led me to monsters. Before the reaching foliage could finally twine itself around me, a last burst of self-preservation had me surging to my feet and sprinting down the row, breath ragged in my throat, heart pounding. How many times had I run from the nameless creature in the corn? How many nightmares had I lived? It seemed this was my entire life. I could just barely remember a time before and had no hope of anything after. It would be so easy just to let the corn take me. I stumbled. Fell. Got to my knees, breathing in the thick, rich scent of disturbed earth from my fall. I had to do something. What though? A human-shaped being stepped from the rows of corn. She looked like an aerialist, with muscular, tattooed arms and a fit figure. Her hair was shaved on the sides, and she had gauges in her ears. “Follow,” she said then bent over backward into a bridge shape, her head swiveling unnaturally to make sure I obeyed. I squeaked in terror but the rustling behind me and the relentless green vines were somehow more frightening than this creature scuttling like a four-legged spider off into the corn. I followed, heart thudding in my chest. As we traveled, my fear gradually lessened until we broke out into a clearing, and then it fled all together, replaced with caution but also hope and a dash of returning memories. In the center, a faceted red gem about the size of my fist sat in the circular expanse of dirt. I ran forward, called by not just the beauty as it sparkled in the sunlight, but by some familiarity I felt. A human-shaped tangle of fat vines lay not far from the gem. The ends twitched lethargically, as if it had gorged and only