Page 8 of The Banshee and the Warlock

Though that only raises more questions than it answers. How am I screaming in the middle of the night and no one can hear it? I should probably ask Mum about some of this, but I can't bring myself to. Either she'll get super excited about my powers finally showing themselves, or she'll start worrying that I'm manifesting in a way she can't understand.

No matter how I look at it, it isn't good.

I get to my feet and pull on my robe, glad for the warmth even if the cold is probably just in my mind. My gaze strays to my shut bathroom door. Perhaps a moment to freshen myself up before I venture out into the flat. I set my bottle back down and head into it, running some cold water and splashing it over my face.

I meet my gaze in the mirror and shudder at how bad I look. It shouldn't be possible for me to get paler, and yet I seem to have managed. To make matters worse, my roots are starting to show brilliant silver-white. Which shouldn't be possible. That's not how the potion Mum brews for me works. It should give me full coverage until it wears off.

I shake my head. It's probably all in my imagination. I'm tired and still in the haze of the dream. I pull my attention away from my reflection and leave the bathroom and the haunting reflection behind, grabbing my bottle so I can venture down the hall to the kitchen.

My flatmates' doors are firmly shut, clearly not having heard a whisper of my screams. That, along with the moonlight drifting into the corridor through the window, give it an eerie feeling.

I push those thoughts aside and enter the kitchen, going straight to the tap so I can fill my bottle. I drink half of it down before I even leave the sink. My throat is still raw from the dream-scream, but the water at least makes it feel a little better. If it's still like this in the morning, I can go down to the infirmary and ask for something to help with it, hopefully, they won't ask too many questions that I won't be able to answer.

Satisfied that things are as good as they're going to get, I turn to head back to my room when a soft tapping stops me in my tracks, causing my heart to race and all kinds of panicked thoughts to slip through my mind. I search around frantically in an attempt to work out where it's coming from.

A shadow behind one of the kitchen windows catches my eye just as a raven hops through the open pane. It cocks its head to the side and studies me, almost as if it's curious.

I take a step towards it, expecting it to fly away and am somewhat surprised when it doesn't.

"Hello," I say softly.

It switches the side its head is at, making me certain that it understands me.

"I'm Anja."

It lets out a soft caw, startling me and making me jump.

The expression in its eyes suggests that it isn't too impressed with my reaction.

"Well, I didn't expect to be talking to a raven in the middle of the night," I point out. "If you don't want me to jump and freak out, then you should find me during the day instead."

The raven hops about a bit.

"Why am I even talking to a bird?" I mutter. I'm not someone who can talk to animals. I know people who can, but not me. No doubt it's just because I'm delirious after the dream. "All right, I'm going back to bed," I say to the raven.

It lets out another caw.

"I need to sleep."

Caw.

I shake my head. This isn't like me at all.

"All right, good night," I say to the raven, waving to it as if it might understand me.

Caw.

It nudges its beak against something, as if it's pushing it towards me. I frown and reach out to pick it up and investigate. A shiny black button sits in the moonlight.

"Is this for me?"

The raven bobs its head.

"I'm not sure I have anything for you," I admit, putting my hand into my robe pocket. I know better than to not give a reciprocal trade to a raven.

I pull out a single coin and hold it out to the raven. "This is all I have."

It cocks its head to the side.