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Eighteen
By midmorning, I woke reenergized and ready to start making my plans. I hadn’t seen Roarke or visited any vibrant dreamscapes while I slept, thanks to Jenks and the remnants of the spell I’d cast earlier to wander alone. Now I needed to prepare my elixir and finish reading this book. If what it revealed so far was any indication of the knowledge held within, I couldn’t wait to learn more. But first, breakfast.
Cracking two eggs into the cast-iron skillet, I added pepper, salt, and a dash of cayenne and started to stir. I liked my eggs a little spicy, scrambled, and with a bit of turkey and mushroom. And so did Jenks. Sitting patiently at my feet, he waited for me to scoop a helping into his bowl.
“Here you go, sweetie. Thanks again for standing guard over me while I napped.”
He dug in without even a peep.
I returned to the couch, planning to read while I ate, but had forgotten my tea. The peppermint and ginseng blend would keep me focused and energized, which was exactly what I needed.
With my cup in hand, I turned back to the living room, my eyes catching on something beneath the white armchair that separated the space. Kneeling down, I reached under the front edge and pulled out the cactus flower Roarke had gifted me the night before. I had returned with it, but it must have dropped out of my hair when I woke up on the couch.
The velvet petals were still soft under my thumb. I thought about the viola hidden in the wooden box on my altar and went to retrieve it. Roarke had willed these two flowers through the veil of the dreamscape to remind me of our time together, and perhaps they could serve an even bigger purpose.
Grabbing a gold craft ring and spool of twine from the old wooden cabinet in my back room, I returned to the couch with the supplies in hand. Knotting the first strand, I pulled the twine back and forth between each side of the metal hoop, weaving a grid across the open space. Then, I weaved my mementos into the strands, pushing their stems through the “fence” of twine. He’d sent me home with something from each of our adventures, and while this wasn’t exactly a dream catcher in the traditional sense, it was similar enough. It was a memory circle, and I’d use it to track my dreams. I never wanted to forget the things that happened, good or bad. It was simple, beautiful, and would hang perfectly above my bed, reminding me of my role in all of this.
With the tap of a nail, I hung it in place and returned to my breakfast, now unappealing and cold. Picking up the book instead, I flipped to the page where I’d stopped reading, disappointed in myself for not finishing in the first place. I’d almost discarded the most important piece of research I’d found on the Weaver, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything between the pages I didn’t already know. Obviously, with a drop of the book, I was proven wrong and now found myself nervous to learn what else I might find. And I was right to worry.
The farther I read, the more upset I became. Genevieve DuWant clearly had a peek into the Weavers’ world, cataloging their existence and magic all while keeping their title and names completely obscured. But it was her mention of the Queen of Nightmares that brought me to my knees. According to her source, Weavers used their queen’s magic to twist the dreams of others, the balance they provide producing nightmares instead of peaceful dreams. And even worse, the only way to stop it was for their queen to walk away and relinquish her magic.
I tossed the book down. Was this what Roarke was doing as well? Slowly twisting my magic dark? I paced my living room, fuming and scared.
The fire in Tuscany, the accident in the Grand Canyon, the devastation happening in the jungle. I had no idea what I was going to do or how I could confront Roarke with any of this. It all seemed so far off from what Roarke’s magic was about. From what we were about.
No. I couldn’t believe he’d do this to me. And even if he was… I would never relinquish my magic to anyone.
Not even him.
I stifled another yawn, fighting the urge to close my eyes as the sun completed its descent for the day. Peels of orange and lime lay ready in my mortar, along with sprigs of peppermint, rosemary, and basil waiting to be ground into dust for my “stay awake” elixir. Mixed into my green tea and combined with my spell, it should keep me awake and out of the dreamscape entirely, at least for tonight. I needed more time to think, finish this book, and possibly alter my plans.
Perhaps if I could contact any of Ms. DuWant’s children, they might be able to identify her source, which I desperately needed to do. Whether it was a previous Weaver or perhaps a queen who walked away, I needed to speak to them. To understand if what happened was a choice of that particular Weaver or if it was part of the curse as well.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around Roarke knowingly hurting people, but I couldn’t deny I’d barely scraped the tip of the magic in his world. Yet I’d agreed. At least from the sound of things, I still had a choice and could simply walk away if I had to.
My heart clenched in my chest. I couldn’t think about this right now. The idea of leaving Roarke made me sick to my stomach. We’d just found one another. Declared our love. And as a girl who spent most of her life alone, I wasn’t about to throw that away without obtaining solid facts. He was no longer a figment of my imagination. He was real, and I’d fight to discover the truth… for us both.
I pressed my pestle against the herbs and zest, grinding them together with a swirl of my wrist. I needed to make enough for a few pots of tea in case I didn’t get as far as I needed within the next couple of days. I’d have to visit the library tomorrow to use the computers and search for Ms. DuWant’s kids. Even then, it sounded like an impossible task since I was sure she’d used a pseudonym for all her books. It was either that or start tracking Agitha’s origins and hope that led me somewhere instead.
The kettle whistled as my eyes dipped again. Scooping the spell powder into a cup, I poured the hot water over it and inhaled its energizing scent.
Mother of Night, hear my plea. Relinquish your hold and let me be. Awake to read and learn and grow. Grant me your energy, to and fro.
I took a sip of the tea and tossed back my head. A surge of power flowed through me, firing along each of my nerves and veins. Refocused and ready to work through the night, my mind veered toward Roarke again. What would he think when I didn’t appear in the dreamscape tonight? Would he be mad? Worried? Or simply appear in my bedroom as he had before?
Panicked at the thought, I grabbed my sage and resmudged the crystal grid around my house for added protection, adding a sprig of juniper over each door and retracing all my apotropaic marks in the wood to strengthen my wards.
I had work to do, and I needed to focus, so if the Weaver wanted to visit me tonight, he’d have to break down the goddamn door.
