* * *
I fell asleep before him, in my bedroom and under the assumption he was falling asleep in his. It was his first time casting this kind of Lucid Dream, the kind that could only be shared between a Mentalist and their Counterpart. I knew the exact moment he entered the dream space because a box the color of the backs of my eyelids appeared and expanded into limitless dimensions, then Leland was inside the dark-gray infinity, standing right in front of me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I looked up at the ceiling that had no end. “Is this what we do?” I asked.
“It can be. Or you can take over. Build a room and shut the door.” His hand suddenly had a book in it, and he lifted it to show me. “I usually read. Sometimes I practice spellcasting.”
Part of me wanted to get it off my chest.I lied today. I liedto Farrah Prolix for you, and I don’t know how I feel about it. Instead, I just said, “How do I make a room?”
“Just picture it. It will appear.”
Following his instruction, what I made was essentially an extra-large cubicle, the bed I put inside it inspired by the one in my room. “Yours would look better,” I commented.
“I’m used to Creating things,” he said with a polite half smile. “But I won’t here. It’s your space. Use it how you want.”
“And you’re just going to” — there was a desert of gray behind him — “sit in the abyss?” The thought of him alone in the dark all night wasn’t a happy one.
Leland shrugged. “I like the quiet.”
I rose up on my toes to make something in the distance for him, envisioning another cubicle with another bed, the same as my own, because I hadn’t memorized the design of the one he slept in.
“Hey, Leland?” I said, walking into my room as he stood outside of it, peering down from over top the five-foot-high gray wall. “Why did we do Dream Interference first if we could’ve done this?”
“Because this is intimate, Ember,” he said. “Because this is intimate.”
“Oh.” I climbed into bed. “Well, goodnight, then.”
He let go of my cubicle. “’Night.”
I was beyond tired. I knew I could’ve dreamed of anything, but all I wanted was to dream of sleep. I pulled the covers over my head, and in the dark, for the first time in a long time, I found peace, warmth, and safety in my dreams.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
LELAND
It would be easier to breathe if Ember were here. She has that effect. I look at her and everything else disappears. I need that today.
On this same day, three years ago, I killed four witches. Doesn’t even matter why I did it. It haunts me every day, and today especially, I’m not in a good place. The way I’ve always gotten through it is by distracting myself, so that’s what I’ve been doing since I woke up from the Lucid Dream. Starting with writing a letter to Ember at my desk.
When I hear Rayne clear her throat, I fold the letter in half and stuff it in theAfter I Diedrawer. I message Case that it’s there for her and shut off my transmitter before he replies. I know what he’ll say. That if I want Ember to read it, I can give it to her myself. Rayne’s opinion is the same. Which is why I’ve been avoiding looking at her the whole time she’s been sitting on my bed.
Rayne doesn’t know why I get this way every year. She shows up anyway, fills my room with flowers, and opens her arms when my legs stop functioning.
“Ember?” I mumble, looking up from my desk to stare at the wall. I appreciate she wants to stay, but I need to blow my nose, and I feel bad doing it in front of her.
“I’m Rayne,” she says evenly.
“Shit.” I rake my hand through my hair and turn to apologize. My eyes feel like they were open all night, despite getting some of the best sleep I’ve had in years. “I’m sorry. I knew it was you. I . . .”
“I know, Lee. We do this every year.” Her gaze sweeps up from my shoes, travels to my jeans, then finally reaches my lightweight sweater. “I don’t think you should go anywhere today,” she says. “Stay in. Rest. I’ll bring your meals to you.”
“Can’t.” I suck in a sharp breath. “I have work today.”
By that, I mean I have a day no one has asked me to do anything, and a minute to do something about Ember.
