Nightmare Thief

By Ava Wixx

If you do bad things for a good reason ... are you still a villain?
Remy Novem is the not so ambivalent caretaker of the dreamscape Somniare, the place where all creatures go to dream. Her job is to keep the barriers strong between worlds, so nightmares stay where they belong, and no one ends up dead or worse. Her magic feeds off of terror, sweetened by the little bit of torture she enjoys doling out to unsuspecting dreamers. Nocturnal suffering in exchange for safety, not a bad deal as far as Remy is concerned. But not everyone is pleased with the current status quo.
When a mystery foe starts springing nightmares from Somniare, causing havoc in all the worlds, Remy will find out exactly how wrong she was about ... everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Wixx
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781955950206

Ava Wixx

Ava Wixx escaped into books at a young age and decided to stay there. It was only a matter of time before she was driven to create her own fantasy worlds from fear of running out of places to explore. Reader, writer, dreamer ... Ava only toils in reality when absolutely necessary. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, and spoiled mini-poodle.

Book preview

Chapter 1

We’re all liars.

Human, witch, fae … no matter the creature, it’s the same. We lie to ourselves because it’s the greatest, and easiest, coping mechanism in existence. Lies are armor we create around ourselves to deal with the waking world. But when asleep, well, it all falls away, and if you’re very unlucky, I’m there to witness your truths.

Mama, my living voodoo doll chastised, her voice high and thin like a child’s, that’s not very nice. The burlap material above her one button eye crinkled, and her sewn-on smile stretched down into something akin to a frown.

Ignoring Eve, I kept my focus on the dreamer frozen in place a few feet away. The girl opened her mouth in a silent scream as I lobbed several orbs of magical fire in her direction. Bright blue flames ignited her silk pajamas, instantly causing her to thrash in agony. I studied her with detachment. She was young, late teens to early twenties, with shiny, long, blonde hair. Or at least it had been a moment ago. She’d also had skin then, too. The crispy dreamer crumpled to the ground, an unrecognizable husk, her death looming.

Inhaling, I reveled in the jolt of magic zinging through my system the instant of her demise. Ah, nothing like the sweet taste of terror to get the blood flowing. I paid no attention to the scent of burnt hair and flesh. I’d become accustomed to the macabre details of nightmares.

Turning to Eve, I rolled my eyes. What do you expect me to do, stop feeding?

The scene around us shifted from the girl’s bedroom back to the standard fare of Somniare, which was a forest. Whenever a dreamer wasn’t present to shape the landscape, the scenery resembled something out of a fairytale, with lush greenery, flowers, and trees as far as the eye could see. Technically, I could change Somniare to resemble anything I wished, but I was of the opinion, if it wasn’t broke, don’t fix it. Besides, extending energy on trivial things was pointless, and frankly, mind-numbingly dull.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Eve glared up at me. Her purple and blue yarn pigtails jostled around her lopsided face as she shook her head. You can feed from anyone. You’ve burned alive that same girl every day this week. It’s not very nice.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes again. I’m helping her. Toughening her up. Forcing her to face her fear. Plus, I like the taste of her nightmare. There’s something especially yummy about it. The dreamer was a witch, and all witches carried an instinctual anxiety about being burnt alive. It made the magical bump from her torture that much more satisfying.

Not nice. Eve stalked off, her stubby, misshapen legs carrying her faster than what seemed possible.

I sighed heavily, twirling a piece of my long, mahogany hair around my index finger. I was purposely antagonizing Eve. She was a kind soul, and even though she was accidentally brought to life by my special brand of magic, she’d evolved into something else … something beyond my comprehension. She didn’t possess one ounce of meanness or selfishness in her entire being. She was like a child that never grew up with her nativity, even though her intelligence continued to develop. Which were two things I was sure couldn’t co-exist in a non-magical creation. Intelligence generally meant awareness of the world as it was, and not as you wished it would be.

Me, on the other hand, I was what you could call morally ambiguous. Born a witch into a domo (house) that wasn’t tenebris (dark) or lux (light), I’d been taught to play in the grey areas of life … and all of that was before I became part of Somniare. I loved Eve like my child in a lot of ways, but I hated how she never learned that things weren’t all black and white, right or wrong. My attempts to teach her had long ago morphed into interactions like the one we just had. They did neither of us any good.

Pivoting on my heel, I strode through the woods at a leisurely pace, my mind wandering. My existence, my entire purpose, was to watch over the dreaming landscape of Somniare, where all creatures came in their sleep. But it hadn’t always been so. Once, I had my own hopes and dreams, which were all cut short when I was murdered the night of my ascension to become the next Grand Witch of Domus Novem. My life, or the journey to reclaim it, was what had ultimately landed me in Somniare, still a witch, and yet … something more. Now I simply fed off the nightmares of others, drinking down their terrors like dark ambrosia.

Somniare and I were linked, and the power I gained from dreamers helped maintain the fabric of my home, keeping the monsters that lived there safely separated from the waking world. Without me, there’d be no Somniare, and without Somniare … well, the real world and all their realms would go to hell in a handbasket.

So I had to feed, beginning and end of story.

It didn’t matter that I enjoyed the torture I delivered to helpless dreamers. It was simply what I called a perk. After all, I had to keep myself entertained somehow while I lived out my endless life in a place I’d grown bored with years ago. Ambivalent dreamscape curator I was not. Sure, I did my job, but the circumstances of it had sharpened and honed the dark streak that had always existed within me.

Appearing directly in my path, my familiar grinned, his sharp canines glinting in the sunlight filtering through the trees. Ready to have some real fun, Rems?

Behind him, his three white and four black tails swayed as he shifted from foot to foot eagerly. He had long ago ditched his traditional Japanese garb, the clothing the majority of kitsunes preferred. Instead, he favored black leather … everything. He reminded me of a fantasy novel character, tall with lithe muscles, white hair to his shoulders, one tiny braid at each temple, and sharp lupine features that were devilishly handsome. I suspected, and all but confirmed, that he got his fashion inspiration from human dreamers who trembled with both fear and delight when my trickster spirit skulked through their subconsciouses looking like he should be a star of some live-action anime film.

My blue eyes met Makoto’s indigo gaze, and my lips twitched. What did you have in mind?

Makoto was my familiar, and yet so much more. We started with the traditional witch and familiar bond when we were children, but now … we were friends, lovers, and partners in every sense of the word. He was the other half of my soul. My kitsune was the one thing I’d never grow bored of. Even now as I played aloof, my heart fluttered in my chest at the mere sight of him. Both sides of him had that effect on me.

Kitsunes were neither male nor female, but both, simply not at the same time when in human form. They switched back and forth between genders at will, embodying the masculine and feminine spirits fully within themselves. Although in fox form both halves were blended, making them truly unique. For those reasons, they considered themselves a higher form of creation, and the epitome of perfection. Talk about massive egos.

For some, the dual-gender thing might have gotten complicated, but not for us. I loved all of Makoto, and all of my kitsune loved me. I wasn’t quite sure if I was actually bisexual or simply attracted to both sides of Makoto. Love does strange things to desire, and I’d long ago stopped questioning it. None of the labels mattered. We worked, fitting together like we were made for each other on a cosmic level. It was like having a husband and wife all rolled into one, and yet somehow, I was enough for Makoto just being me. Granted, I’m smart and powerful, so my package has a lot to offer.

I’m the only creature my kitsune cares about since losing his spirit heart. If something ever happened to me, he would destroy worlds to get me back. He almost did so once, and that was before he’d become mostly dark or a yako kitsune. Since he is a fox spirit and a flesh and blood being, only his living heart is needed to survive, but losing his secondary spirit heart had thrown him into a state of imbalance. And with each midnight tail that appeared next to his snowy ones as his power grew, he became more of the trickster or demon fox that kitsunes are associated with in traditional lore. Thankfully, he would never turn all the way dark as long as he kept his three white tails intact.

But it doesn’t matter. I’ll love Makoto no matter what happens. Our love for each other is unconditional. Always has been, and always will be.

Rems, come on, I’m not in the mood for this game. You know what I have in mind. Stop being coy. Purple light flashed around him, and I blinked away white spots. The female side of Makoto had replaced the male side, donning the same black leather, but fitted to her smaller frame.

I quirked an eyebrow. Hmm. Do I? Of course, I knew exactly what she had in mind. Between our familiar and mate bond, we were about as closely linked as two creatures could be on our plane of existence. But that didn’t mean we didn’t still try to torment each other sometimes. It was just our way.

She tugged on one of the tiny braids at her temple, her indigo eyes sparking with gold. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t sense the breach. I know you did.

I shrugged. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention.

She clicked her tongue. Yes, because torturing that little witch in her sleep had you completely enthralled.

Maybe it did.

Please, you forget who you’re talking to.

In truth, it was the reason Eve had sought me out when I’d been otherwise occupied. She was just as excited about a potential reprieve from Somniare as Makoto seemed to be. A breach translated to a visit to the real world in order to track down an escaped nightmare before it did too much damage. When the monsters of Somniare passed beyond the dreamscape’s boundaries, they took on a life of their own past their creators, and that was … problematic. Part of maintaining Somniare was keeping it contained, so when something snuck out, I had to bring it back or snuff out its existence.

I smirked. "No, you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. Slinging my arm over her shoulder, I drew her into my side, ruffling her hair affectionately. In her female form, she was significantly shorter than my height of 5’9.

She wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing tightly. This is going to be so much fun! It’s been some time since we’ve been out there. Breaking away from me, purple light flashed around her, and the male form of Makoto towered over me.

I lifted my eyebrows. What’s with the change again?

He tilted his head, studying me. You’re in a weird mood today, and I’m not sure which side of me will complement you best.

How about being whichever you feel like being then? No matter how long I’d been with Makoto, the one thing I couldn’t wrap my mind around was … how can a creature such as a kitsune be so locked into gender stereotypes? I mean, could someone who was both sexes be sexist? I tried not to think about it because it made my head hurt, but every once in a while, the whole thing gave me pause.

He sighed long and loud, his nostrils flaring and his lips pressing into a flat line. You’ve been stomping around in human psyches again. The questions are written all over your face. So, let me remind you, yet again, that I have no preference of gender. If I did then I wouldn’t be so accommodating to you. He winked. And since I’m all the best qualities of both genders, I can decide how to categorize myself any way I choose.

I snorted. Yes, all the best qualities, like an inflated ego and—

He raised his eyebrows, stealing the rest of my words. Gender stereotypes and sexual bias critiques can’t be applied to kitsunes. I am who I am, as defined by me. It’s not complicated, so stop overthinking it. He slashed his hand through the air abruptly. And also, you need to stop letting the twisted thinking of humans seep into your mind—it’ll rot. Then what will I do with you?

Scratching my head, I started walking. Yeah, well, as I’ve said probably a million times before, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand completely. I flipped my hair over my shoulder demonstratively. I love being female and can’t imagine being anything else ever. If I could be a male, too, I’d still favor being a female.

If you could be both sexes in the manner I can, you have no idea what you’d prefer. He sighed again. Maybe in a few hundred years, you’ll finally get it.

What I get is that even though I love all of you unconditionally, that doesn’t give me the ability to understand all of you. Knowledge and a true understanding are two very different things.

With a roll of his eyes, Makoto waved his hand at me, a layer of magic settling over my skin. I glanced down the line of my body to find myself wearing black head-to-toe leather, much like my kitsune’s. I internally shrugged. I would look good in whatever he dressed me in. If he wanted us to match, well, I was fine with it. I’d long ago ditched any physical insecurities I possessed in my youth. I knew I was visually appealing. It wasn’t vain to admit it, although maybe I was just a bit. I took pride in my appearance—my long, luxurious, dark hair, and contrasting alabaster skin a stunning combination. I also knew how my curvy body affected both sides of my kitsune, not to mention the many amorous dreamers I’d run into over my decades in Somniare.

Spinning around, I walked backward in front of Makoto, my arms spread wide. I’m guessing you were peeking at where we’re going since you’ve picked out our clothes with such certainty.

Of course, I took a little look-see. You were taking entirely too long with that last dreamer. One side of his mouth curled up. It’s going to be fun all right. And we won’t even need a glamour for Eve this time.

I nibbled my bottom lip. I’m intrigued. Letting my senses roll through Somniare, I steered us to the right.

And there it is. Makoto rubbed his hands together and bounced up onto the balls of his feet, his tails fluttering.

Eyeing the jagged edges of the tear in the fabric of Somniare, I inhaled deeply, the scent of ozone tingling my nose. It appeared as if something with claws had literally ripped its way out of the dreamscape, no other clues left behind, magic or otherwise. Did you also get a peek at what kind of nightmarish creature we’re going after? I’m not getting an inkling since there’s no residue. The only thing I can tell is that it had claws, which anyone with decent vision could tell. And that doesn’t mean it still does though, as you well know.

Somniare’s escapees had a habit of morphing once they crossed the threshold from dreaming into reality. I’d find the naughty nightmare via a tracking spell once we were on the other side of the veil, but having a general idea of what its original shape looked like would also be helpful when casting the magical net. Visualization of its original form or essence usually made the spell work faster, although not completely necessary.

Makoto inched toward the tear, his gaze fixated. We’ll figure it out when we get there.

Um, aren’t you going to hide your … I motioned to his leather-encased ass. He usually didn’t display his tails when in human form, especially outside of Somniare.

Nope. A small flash of purple and his fox ears appeared on top of his head. You’ll see why soon enough.

Okaaay, I drawled as he stepped through the tear, the energy inside wavering like water. He glanced over his shoulder from the other side, his expression obviously gleeful even through the distortion of the veil. Come on, Rems. Hurry up.

Mama! Mama! I’m coming! Eve dashed out from behind a tree where she’d probably been sulking. She waved her arms, reaching for me.

I guess all is forgiven. Or at least temporarily forgotten. Scooping her up, I stepped through the tear, grunting as one of her pins was forcefully jabbed into my shoulder. Okay, so not forgiven or forgotten. Good thing that won’t do any permanent damage.

Ignoring the small annoyance of Eve and her pin, I grinned, excitement zinging through my system. And here we go.

Chapter 2

W hat the— Dropping Eve to the floor, I spun in a small circle, my mouth hanging open a few moments before I snapped it shut with an audible click. Humans in colorful costumes dressed as all manner of man and beast milled around, and despite the fact that we’d ‘popped’ out of nowhere as far as they were concerned, no one seemed to bat an eye. Dozens merely snapped pictures, and others clapped with glee. Damn it. We’re at one of those Comic-Con things. This is not going to make our job any easier with smartphones everywhere. I’m sure as hell not getting the blame for outing the supernatural world. I have enough enemies as it is.

Makoto leaned into me, his grin borderline feral. I told you it would be fun, and the best part is we can hide in plain sight with no annoying glamour. He booped the tip of my nose, and pivoted on his heel, fanning his seven tails out like a peacock. Several women and a man rushed him, cooing with delight.

Rolling my eyes, I slid in beside my kitsune, earning a glare from a scantily clad … Shrek? Whatever. To each their own when it comes to kink and costumes.

Fun my ass, I hissed out of the side of my mouth. This whole thing is simply going to complicate things. Humans everywhere, and every last one with a camera ready to upload in an instant. I swear modern technology is the bane of every supernatural’s existence.

Who are you supposed to be? I don’t recognize the character, although it’s wicked cool. Shrek-ette asked Makoto, her lusty expression making it obvious she didn’t actually care all that much about his supposed costume, and only about what was beneath it. And that magic stunt was beyond amazing.

Real magic usually is to humans, I grumbled under my breath.

Bending to scoop up Eve, who’d been clinging to my leg, I edged away from my attention-seeking kitsune. It was clear he needed a real-life fix of adoration, and I didn’t mind, even though I most certainly didn’t want to participate.

Ah-ah-ah, Makoto growled. Humans don’t get to touch the kitsune. None of you are worthy.

I sniggered. What he wanted was a bevy of humans groveling at his feet, telling him how amazing he was. He wanted to be worshipped … but from afar. Too bad humans tended to want to get handsy with him … or her, depending on the occasion.

Why is Makoto like that? Eve peered over my shoulder, watching the scene with interest. He didn’t used to be, and he doesn’t even like any of them.

Kitsunes are weird sometimes. Scanning what appeared to be a hotel lobby, I searched for a good place to work my tracking spell. My excitement to be in the real world had waned the moment I stepped through the tear in the veil. Normally I found as much enjoyment in a reprieve from Somniare as Makoto, but not today—today held an ominous feel to it. And I learned decades ago to trust my magical intuition above all else. So I would let my familiar have his fun while I stayed vigilant and on task. Sucks being the responsible one.

Bumping my shoulder, Makoto took up a sentinel position to my right. His annoyance hummed through our bond. Humans, he muttered by way of explanation, punctuated with a dramatic eye roll.

That bad, huh?

That was the thing about my kitsune, he loved the attention humans, witches, and fae alike lobbed his way … until he didn’t. It was one of the many reasons I never worried about him straying from me. He knew I appreciated both his male and female beauty in their respective forms, but our love went beyond skin deep. I was intimate with every nook and cranny of his mind, all the dark impulses, and no matter what happened, nothing would ever turn me from him. Our love was eternal, even if we both enjoyed getting our egos stroked a bit elsewhere once in a while.

No more than usual. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring a wanna-be fan down until she squeaked and ran in the opposite direction. But I felt your … concern for our current predicament and decided to see what’s up.

Makoto and I could communicate telepathically, but usually we both kept our thoughts on lockdown unless it was an emergency. A little bit of mystery in a relationship was sometimes nice, especially since we’d been together in one capacity or another since childhood. Strong emotions still slipped through the cracks occasionally though.

I frowned. I’m not sure what it is, but something isn’t quite right.

Leaning into my space, his lips brushed my ear, causing goosebumps to race across my flesh. Sure you weren’t just jealous and wanting a way to lure me to you?

I slid my gaze to the side and shifted Eve to my other hip. You know I don’t get jealous of, I waved my hand around at the costumed humans, that.

He glided up to stand in front of me, our noses touching, and breath intermingling. Mmmhmm, never once? Not even for a second?

I shook my head, holding my ground. Eve broke free from my grip, landing with an ‘oof’ on the floor.

Liar. He brought his lips to mine, scalding me with a brief kiss, before resting his forehead against mine. I can feel when you burn with it. The jealousy.

Twining my fingers into his silky locks, I stared into his golden swirling depths. His emotions were running high, indicated by the complete color change. I trust you. You know that.

Why?

Great. Now is not the time for Makoto to need balancing out. Ever since he received his fourth black tail, causing the dark tails to outnumber the white tails by one, my kitsune occasionally found himself in need of an … adjustment. Depending on the trigger, I adapted my personal brand of treatment, which usually involved a magical bitch slap of some kind.

Backing up a few steps, I tapped my chin. Hmm … I don’t know, maybe because I’ve known you almost my entire life, and let’s not forget that we’re bonded as witch, and familiar, as well as you claiming me as your mate. I rubbed the small tattoo-like brand on the inside of my left wrist. The delicate, fox-like outline had appeared when Makoto officially made me his mate, his magic tying me to him in new and interesting ways.

His gaze flicked from my wrist to his own, where my spell signature marked him as mine. He ran his thumb along the design, similar to a Celtic knot in appearance, the curves twisted into nine points, the pattern itself lopsided with a fancy R woven into the center.

We belonged to each other, mind, body, and soul.

Nostrils flaring, he ate up the distance I managed to put between us. And would you trust me without these magical ties? After all, I did betray my own kind.

My spine stiffened. He was referring to the time he helped steal nine tails from a kitsune to settle my debt with a demon. A piece of the long-ago memory rattled free from its cage, the jagged edge slicing across my mind.

As I looked down at Akira, held by Makoto and his magic, completely at our mercy, I wondered if I’d one day feel guilt for my actions. A flash of Makoto unconscious and naked, completely vulnerable, and held against his will by Akira skidded across my mind. Nope. She asked for this. She should have known better than to mess with a witch like me.

Grabbing several of Akira’s tails, I held them taut by the tips and sliced. Akira screamed, pure agony beating against my eardrums. Without pausing I proceeded to remove all nine tails, the task easier than I thought it would be, even with my hands slick with her blood.

When I was finished, Makoto stood, his kimono spattered with crimson. I had the sudden urge to magically clean him, not wanting to see any physical signs of what he helped me do. A kernel of dread bloomed within me, worry for Makoto’s emotional state. After all, he just helped me steal the tails from another kitsune. I wished I’d never let him help—but he insisted, and—No. He’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. We always are.

Akira gasped, reaching for her tails as I scooped them up. The dark fur was matted with blood, my hands already sticky with it. Her red-rimmed eyes met mine with hatred, but no words came. She clawed at the ground, attempting to pull herself up. I stepped back, Makoto tugging me even farther away a moment later.

"I’m