I usually end up here in the outfit I wore the day before, but it’s never too cold or too hot. Tonight, my teeth chatter as I wrap my arms around myself and spin in a circle, looking for anyone—forhim.
I find Petra and Nestor standing there, only a few feet away. Their apparitions are slightly illuminated, making their sorrowful expressions visible, and I know the man with the obscured face can’t save me from my fate.
I realize it’s not the first time Petra has visited in my dreams. It wasn’t a message from my subconscious telling me to leave my mother’s home—it washer.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, taking a step back. My eyes meet her sad, detached stare. “Why do you keep finding me like this?” I demand in frustration.
Petra starts to speak, but I can’t hear her. I’m too bleary, and she’s talking too quickly—it’s impossible to make out a single word. She doesn’t slow down, her words coming quicker so I can’t read her lips.
Nestor gently reaches out, pulling her back a step. She shakes him off and advances two more steps.
I back away and explain that I don’t know what’s going on, but I amtrying—for both of them. Even if she could hear me, she wouldn’t take a moment to try to understand, continuing to spit silent pleas at me.
It isn’t until she reaches for me that cold fear rushes through my veins, replacing the feeble courage fueled by my growing anger with my ancestors. It might only be a nightmare, but all witches know it doesn’t guarantee safety from the monsters.
I let out a scream only I can hear and stumble backwards. Her hand goes through my body, not able to grab on like the last time she visited my dreams. The absence of her touch doesn’t do anything to lower my heart rate.
The only time I’ve experienced this is with the obscured man. Any other dream or nightmare I can remember, the monsters have always been able to get me right before I’m thrown back into reality.
“How… What is happening?” I whisper, my voice quivering, and I stare at the hand that should have made contact with me.
Her gaze lifts to mine, confusion crossing her features. It quickly turns into despair and frustration of her own. The furrowed brows and deep frown are evidence enough, but when Petra reaches out again and silently screams at me, I feel her emotions like I did the day I arrived at the inn.
Turning to run, I come face to face with another familiar presence.
The obscured man is running, another thing that is out of place. I’ve never found him anywhere other than next to me.
The metallic taste of his distress coats my tongue, creating a volatile cocktail that swirls together with my soured emotions, as well as the bitterness of Petra’s emotions still ricocheting through me.
The link between our spirits has always been a balm to the constant need to know him better—to get even a tease of his presence. Tonight, it’s a black hole sucking me down.
It’s too much. Too consuming.
Without thinking, I stop in my tracks and hold my hands out in each direction. The obscured man slows, but his chest is heaving and his fists clench, holding himself back from me. Any other night, the small gesture would have been comforting.
Nestor moves to take a step and has a concerned expression. His features are clearer here than they ever have been.
“No, stop,” I shout as I thrust my hand in their direction, bringing everyone to a standstill.
Quickly looking over my shoulder, I catch Nestor grabbing his wife’s arm to pull her against his chest. Petra fights against his hold for a few moments before she breaks down into a silent, heart-wrenching sob.
Her despair plummets through me—making me double over from the physical pain of it. It all settles heavily on my shoulders and swirls around my stomach until I’m swallowing down bile, trying to find anything to ground myself.
Mentally wading through our mixed emotions, I find one that’s familiar enough to dig my nails into, using it as a tether to this moment. It’s not the first time I’ve felt anger on her behalf, but it’s never been directed at me. The depth of it is terrifying. It reminds me of my mother and all the various ways I’ve disappointed her throughout my life.
Instead of making me shrink into myself like I always did in anticipation of the inevitable sting of her palm, Petra’s fire only fuels mine.
“You’re angry?” I shout and point in her direction. She looks at me, momentarily coming out of her dissolving state.
A wild fire burns from the spark of her anger—the last bit of kindling needed to create an inferno directed at the couple before me. “I’m trying! I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m trying,” I yell, pulling on my hair at the roots. “All to fix the mess you made!”
Her face warps into an offended sneer and Nestor flinches at my words, the first time they have seemed to actually hear me.
I’ll do it then, she snarls, and it echoes in my mind.
Our emotional connection grows stronger, and the more agitated she becomes, the quicker I lose grip of myself. She’s able to push throughmy thoughts until there isn’t room for my own, like she’s trying to push me out of my own body.
My eyes fly open and our gazes meet immediately. She continues to silently scream and reach for me, but Nestor firmly holds her waist, his somber expression never breaking.
