What is this place?
The rook lands in the circle and caws loudly at me, calling me to join it, but an insistent tug in my chest takes me back to my room.
I’m by the window, looking out into the night.
Who is that in my bed? I tiptoe closer, then rear back at the sight of myself. I’m in the bed, but I’m also…not.
“See. You have to see. Keep going.”
The bedroom vanishes and I’m outside, standing by the pavilion, where an awful sense of dread overcomes me.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to wake up. Now!
The pavilion disappears, and I’m in an aisle of books. A library? The plaque on the bookcase says Botanics. Why am I here? A leather-bound book on the shelf opposite me begins to glow. Numbers flash in my mind. Classification numbers. A shadow falls over me again, its cold touch saturated with menace and malevolence. Someone is coming.
I have to run.
I have to run now!
But my feet are rooted to the ground as a hooded figure appears at the end of the aisle. I know instinctively that it means to harm me.
It drifts closer. Floating. Gliding. I’m trapped.
* * *
No. “NO!”
“Wake up!” Fingers bit into my skin, and I was shaken roughly. “Anamaya, wake up!”
Vitra had me by the shoulders, his wet face a mask of concern. His hair was plastered to his skull, soaked with rain. Ice-cold pellets beat against my skin.
“What…”
“You were sleepwalking,” he said over the roar of the storm.
Words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalker.” Why had I said that? I was fucking sleepwalking,andI was outside in the rain.
“You were about to jump to your death.” A crack of lightning lit the night, illuminating the port walkway attached to Bramble.
“Oh… Oh shit.”
He hauled me to his warm, wet chest. “Let’s get you inside.”
I was numb, chilled to the bone, desperate for heat, so I clung to him as he led me through the halls, my mind attempting to grasp at the remnants of my dream, but it slipped away like mist through my fingers. I barely registered where we were headed until Vitra ushered me into a large room decorated in shades of brown with maroon accents. The details faded beneath the sensation of the plush carpet under my bare feet. He led me into a bedroom and attempted to pull away, but I reached for him, an involuntary sound of protest spilling from my lips. His tawny eyes brightened, nostrils flaring delicately.
“I’ll be back with towels,” he said.
I stood shivering and dripping on a patterned rug that looked expensive. This was his bedroom. This strange domed room with its minimalist décor, plain beige walls, no personal items on the dresser, and no tapestries or paintings on the wall. No clues about the man beneath the enigmatic mask. Nothing except the huge, round bed piled with pillows, dominating the space.
Vitra valued a comfortable night’s sleep. Naked? No. No, do not think of that.
He returned with towels and wrapped the largest one around me, then covered my hair with the smaller one before patting and rubbing to dry it.
He was still beaded with rain, dark eyelashes wet and clinging together. “You’re soaked too.”
“I’m fine.Youcould catch a chill.”
