Page 7 of The Banshee and the Warlock

Nati nods in greeting. "Can you pass the gluten-free plate, please?" she asks me.

"Yeah, sure." I lean over and grab the plate with the flag on top, handing it over to her.

She pulls several faces as she looks at the assortment. "They never do anything as good."

"What is it you want?" I ask. "I could try and do a spell on it that'll make the gluten affect you less."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I've tried spells before, they never work," she responds.

I nod and turn my attention back to Anja.

She smiles at me in a way that makes my heart constrict and the urge to get her alone all the stronger.

I may barely know her, but it's clear that she already has more of a hold on me than anyone ever has.

I just hope that's not going to be my downfall.

Chapter 4

Anja

Everything around me is hazy as a sheen of white fog fills the air. I wave my hands around, trying to find something concrete to hold onto.

Shadows move beyond the mist, growing closer, then more distant, and there's an almost constant wail floating around in the background, as if the mist itself is screaming.

Panic starts to rise within me, and I try my best not to let it consume me.

It's just a dream.

I'm asleep, that's all this is.

Lies.

I don't know if I think the word, or if the mist is talking to me. It doesn't help with the panic.

The rush of water calls my attention, and I turn towards it, compelled by forces I can't fully explain or put a name to. I'm certainly not as in control of myself as I wish I was.

I can't hear my feet against the ground, and the air is weirdly still, especially considering the presence of the mist. I don't know what to make of it.

An old woman with skin as deathly pale as mine appears by the edge of the river, a white dress in her hands.

I try to call to her, to ask her what she wants, but no words come from my mouth. Despite that, she turns to me, revealing my own face staring back at me.

A loud scream rips through me even in the dream. I can feel it from the pit of my stomach, all the way up to the pressure behind my temples. There's almost something supernatural about it, though I can't put my finger on what it is.

The mist, the woman, and the wailing fade in an instant. My eyes snap open, revealing the darkness of my room to me. I stare at the ceiling and take some deep breaths while I try to remind myself that it's just a dream. A bad one, but nothing more than a nightmare.

A thin sheen of sweat covers my entire body, my breathing is rapid, and my throat is sore from screaming. I touch my neck, almost surprised to discover that it feels exactly the same as normal. Somehow, that isn't right. Something feels as if it's shifted for me, but I don't know what.

With my breathing back under control, I roll over and search for my water bottle, grabbing it so I can take a drink, but there's nothing in it.

I groan. I refilled it before I went to bed, I should still have plenty to see me through until morning.

I throw back the covers, knowing that there won't be any sleep for at least another hour. I don't know whether it's the dream itself, or something else. But when I've had similar dreams in the past, the aftereffects have lingered for a while. Though I don't remember a dream as vivid as this one before.

A chill travels through me the moment my feet hit the cold ground. I reach around for a robe to throw over my sleep shirt, almost giving up on finding it when my hand finds it. It's better than nothing, and I'm going to be back in bed before long anyway.

There aren't any sounds around me, and it seems as if I haven't woken any of my flatmates who are all sleeping soundly in their rooms. If it wasn't for the pain in my throat and the exhaustion in every inch of my body, I'd think that the screams were just in my head.