Had he opened it in his sleep? Was that even possible?
He exhaled a ragged breath, eyes fixed on the alluring darkness. Dissonant whispers curled around him, their words indistinct, but their meaning clear. They beckoned him forward, promising nothingness. Peace.
No. August clenched his teeth.Leave me alone!
With a quick swipe, he sealed the tear, the Hollow Dark’s grip abruptly severed.
Silver moonlight spilled through the window onto the rough wooden floor, where imaginary faces formed in the knots. Outside, the night buzzed with the distant sound of crickets.
August shivered as he glanced around the dark room.
He was alone. Nothing was out of place. Everything was fine.
But not entirely. There was something—a gnawing unease he couldn’t shake. The chill remained, even with the rift closed, and it seeped into his bones, sharp and unnatural. His breath fogged the air in front of him, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. A cold knot of fear twisted in his stomach.
“Lottie?”
No response.
A flicker of movement at the edge of the room.
He drew the dagger from its spot at his hip and held it out with a shaky hand.
“Who’s there?”
The words hung heavy in the silence, a palpable tension broken only by the far-off cry of an owl.
There was nothing. He was losing it. He released a slow breath through barely parted lips.
Calm down.
A hand shot out from beneath the sofa, fingers clamping hard around his leg. August wrenched sideways, clumsy with terror, and crashed to the floor.
The shape beneath the sofa watched him, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Solach!” August shouted, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. “Fucking anchored!” He hurled the dagger at the shadowy form, and it disappeared as the blade clattered beneath the sofa.
It must have followed him home. He knew all the anchored that could reach the cottage, and this didn’t feel like one of the usuals. Sometimes, particularly strong anchored could break free of their tethers, but it was never long before they were yanked back. It would be gone soon.
But August could’ve sworn ittouchedhim. He wrinkled his nose and rubbed the place where he’d felt its fingers through the fabric of his trousers.
His imagination. It must have been. The anchored couldn’t touch things.
Do not be afraid, Mo Aesling.
He flinched at the flash of memory.
No, that was different. That wasn’t a normal anchored. He had felt it the moment he woke to her in his room. It was some rare phenomenon that wouldn’t repeat itself.
This was just fear playing tricks on him. Or a dream bleeding over. It had to have been, because the idea that it could happen again was unbearable. The anchored couldn’t touch him. Theycouldn’t.
Lottie was beside him now. Had she been there the whole time? “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, grand,” he snapped bitterly as he hauled himself off the floor. “Wonderful. Never fucking better.”
Her gaze dropped to his neck. “Oh, Auggie.”
He went still. He didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know how much remaining time he’d lost by opening the veil. Again.
