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Time passed and then everything changed. I knew I was having a nightmare the moment the library doors opened on their own. I’d been standing in the center of the room, staring at the floor unbothered, and then the breeze hit. I felt it tugging on my chest, pulling me forward. I could almost hear it whispering my name.
A nervous chill traveled up my spine, but I let my feet carry me where the dream wanted to go. Nightmare or not, I’d learned the hard way that a dream could be powerful, prophetic even. With so many questions still up in the air, I had to hope that this might give me some answers.
My breath formed a small white cloud in front of my nose, and the door to my right swung open. Light poured across the ground. I skirted the edge of the glow and peered into the room: Viktor’s office. The last time I was inside was about a month before he died. Whispers rose from the silence and that same pull around my chest tugged me forward. The air turned glacial, and the door swung closed behind me.
The office was exactly as I’d left it. Viktor’s large ebony desk still sat in the center of the room. His laptop was presumably in the drawer, but there was a file open on the blotter. I circled around to look at the contents and froze. It was a medical file. Stacked on one side were pages of notes and clipped to the other side was a photograph of my parents. It was a duplicate of their wedding photo, marred by a single white word typed in the corner. Deceased.
I read enough to recognize my mother’s autopsy, and then the door opened again. Viktor’s shadow stretched across the desk, and I gulped. Instinctively, I took a step back and braced for an impact. He looked exactly as he had the day he died: black lines laced his skin, his hair long and white.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “I’ve told you a thousand times, you’re not to enter this room unless I’m here. Now, get out.”
“Why do you have this?” I hissed. My voice echoed in my ears. “Can you even tell me? You’re dead. This is a dream.”
He glared at me. “Are you drunk? It’s the middle of the day!”
“I’m not drunk.” I shook my head. “I’m dreaming. This is a nightmare, and right now, I need to wa—”
Viktor waved his hand and an electric pain shot from the floorboards, along my spine, and into the back of my neck. My muscles tensed, and I collapsed on the ground, screaming in agony.
The pain vanished and he loomed over me like a tower. “Explain yourself.”
“Me?” I exhaled a breathless chuckle. “Youwant me to explain? You’re the one with the damn secrets! Who is P? Who’s A? What were we arguing about the day you died?”
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he snapped. “Under my roof, you speak to me with respect!”
He flicked his fingers, and another wave of pain roared through my body. My back arched off the ground, my muscles seized. The pain was blinding. Clawing at the ground, I couldn’t breathe.
I knew the spell, I’d felt the pain before, but when I traced a sigil on the ground to break free, nothing happened. I slapped my hand against the hardwood, jamming the tip of my finger against the wood, but it refused to work. Viktor’s shadow shifted above me, and the pain stopped.
I snarled up at him. “Even dead you’re a pain in my ass.”
A shining black ink swallowed the whites of his eyes, and his nails sharpened into matching talons as a viscous black liquid poured from his lips. “Insolence will not be tolerated. You will behave, one way or another.”
“You couldn’t beat it out of me when I was little. What makes you think you’ll do any better now that you’re dead?”
“You’ll break. They always do.”
I rolled my eyes and hoisted myself up off the ground. I shook the tension from my shoulders and let fresh energy stream from my fingers. “If that’s how you want to play it, then bring it on.”
Viktor’s lips pressed into an unnatural grin. A beat of silence passed, and he charged forward, claws extended. My arms came up and—
I woke up screaming. Jackson had me by the shoulders, but I shoved him away and rolled off the bed. I kicked free of the sheets and raced into the bathroom across the hall. My heart thumped wildly against my ribs, and my stomach clenched.
I barely made it to the toilet. Jackson’s warm hands pulled the hair back from my face as I retched into the bowl, my entire body trembling.
“Easy. It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his hand over my back. “You’re safe. Just let it out.”
A few minutes later, I sat back on my heels, and he produced a wet washcloth for me to wipe my face.I couldn’t stop shivering. The pain from the dream still echoed in my muscles like the pain of a Charlie Horse in both of my legs.
I pulled my knees up to my chest. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay. Are you okay?”
I nodded, using the cloth to wipe my face. My breath smelled rancid. “I’m okay.”
“What happened? We were sleeping and then you were screaming. Was it a vision? Was it me?”
I blinked up at him in confusion. “What? No. It was a nightmare.”
