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One
Present day…
Darkness surrounded me as I opened my eyes, its emptiness clinging to me like a second skin. A shiver rattled my bones as my feet hit the cold planks of my cottage’s hardwood floor. Smoothing my nightgown straight, I walked to my altar, ready for my next attempt.
It had been two days since my last dream, and all I could remember was that I didn’t want it to end. I tried to force myself back to sleep—back to him. Dark, sparkling eyes from beneath his hood were all I could remember before being ripped awake without warning. Now I was desperate to get back. There was something about him I needed to learn. Something magical calling to my witch’s soul.
My last batch of skullcap, rosemary, and mugwort sat cold in my mortar. This time, an added pinch of passionflower should stop my mental chatter. I needed to focus if I was going to make this work.
Three times before, I’d seen him shimmering in the distance, watching me from afar. The most recent dream I recalled was like a fairy tale. With glistening castles and lush forests surrounding me, it was full of mythical creatures who let me frolic alongside them without a care in the world. I spotted him standing behind a stone outbuilding, staring and monitoring my every move.
The dream before that took place in a desert where I lived a fabulous life as the close friend of an important sheik. There he’d been huddled behind a spice cart in the market, but I could still feel his eyes upon me.
Regardless of my dream’s location, my watcher was always there. Unfortunately, my last dream had been yanked away, leaving me with a complete void. Something had changed, and I was determined to find out what.
The cold feel of my pestle in hand was a welcome shock to my system. A signal to my body we were about to begin. Grinding herbs was a ritual I cherished.
“Take care now, Milly. Too harsh a stroke and you’ll bruise the lavender.”
I smiled at the memory.
For six years now, I’d tended the gardens of our humble cottage alone, honing my craft in the Arcadia Forest outside of West Greenwich, Rhode Island. Mother always said it came naturally to me.
Squinting against the dim morning light, I reached above my head and pinched off a sprig of dried passionflower, adding it to my mortar. Now nineteen, book-smart, and full of Mama’s wisdom, I rolled my wrist as she taught me, grinding the herbs in a soft motion until the sharp fragrance filled the air.
It was ready.
After setting the kettle on the burner, I bound three pinches of the herbal concoction into a small square of cheesecloth and dropped it in. Once steeped, the elixir should work right away. Within minutes, I’d be back asleep.
Busying myself while the water boiled, I combed my dark-auburn hair straight, then braided it into two plaits and wrapped them into a bun again. Closing my eyes, I could almost see him. Almost.
He moved like a wisp of fog through my dreams, seeping in and out of my mind and settling between the cracks of my heart. The dark hood of his cloak was always in place, concealing his features from my view, and only once had I seen his eyes. Like a galaxy of stars contained in a marble, they shimmered from beneath his hood. I held his silver gaze, my magic rising. Then all was lost. The connection slammed shut, jerking me awake as if somehow he kicked me out of my own dream.
But tonight I had a plan.
Instead of experiencing my dream while he waited on the sidelines, I was going to seek him out. Find out if he was real or just a figment of my imagination. I’d had many book boyfriends over the years, but this was different—as if the man of my dreams could somehow be real. And if he was, I wanted to talk to him, ask him questions, and find out exactly who he was. I wanted to know why he continued to appear in my dreams. And, more importantly, how he managed to leave a lasting mark upon my soul. But most of all, I wanted to know what he was about to say the last time we were together, before I’d been ripped away.
I smiled as the kettle whistled. Tonight, it would be me who was stalking him.
Steam swirled around my face as I sipped from the cup. The sharp taste of skullcap, mugwort, and rosemary was still present, softened only by the addition of the passionflower petals. This was the first time I’d used this combination, but I was confident it was going to work. The only concern was how well. Getting lost in a dreamscape could be a dangerous thing.
Raising the carved-wood cup to my lips, I drank and then set my intention.
Lucid dreaming come to me. Find the one that I do seek. Grant me control in this way. Bring me to him on this day.
I relaxed my head into the feather pillow, readying myself for our next encounter.
A bloodred sun blazed behind my closed eyes, my outstretched arms and fingers floating on the surface of the cool water below. A bright blue sky and green leaves welcomed me, mocking the colors of my mismatched eyes. I rose from the rectangular pool filled with the bluest water I’d ever seen and was met with dolomite pillars lining both sides of the space. My eyes followed their structured lines to a square building standing directly ahead. Fountains and flowers trailed down its sides, so beautiful they could rival the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. I looked left and right, trying to spot my watcher, but I didn’t see him… yet.
Emerging from the pool, I walked up the marble staircase and was met by two young men. Tanned and with gold bracelets encircling their upper arms, they were dressed in nothing more than white loincloths. The first approached, reaching out to drape a white dressing gown over my gold swimsuit, the thin material floating behind me in the warm summer breeze. The other bowed at the waist, keeping his head low as he raised a platter of grapes on outstretched arms. I plucked the fruit from the tray, then followed the cypress-lined walkway up the stairs and through the courtyard, heading straight for the building. Tonight, it seemed, I was in ancient Greece.
Gauze curtains floated around me as I pushed my way through the entrance and into a massive bedroom. My ancient history lessons rushed back to me as I took in the Grecian architecture. More pillars lined the space, and carved bands of Greek reliefs encircled the ceilings. Gold braziers hung from the walls, their charcoal flames providing the only light throughout the room. Finally, I noticed an oversize four-poster bed sitting atop a raised dais against the far wall. Its sides were curtained in more of the gauzy material, and lying atop it was a white chiton and a golden crown. I was clearly meant to put them on.
Changing quickly, I slipped the gown over my head, the gold shoulder clasp and laurel headpiece making me feel as if I were somehow important here.
“That’s because you are important.”
There he is.
