Emery and Ambrose looked between us curiously, while Kessian kept his eyes averted.
“Right, I forgot. That’s never happened to me before.”
“Do you know how it happened, or why?”
“Maybe it was an extension of my abilities or a result of the wraith’s attack? Hard to say. It could just be a random side effect of our time in the spring.”
It hadn’t felt that way to me. The dream felt … designed. It showed me his memories, yes, but very particular ones. “I think we ought to find out. I don’t trust that it isn’t the strid messing with us somehow.”
“You could attempt a trace spell to see what magic it picks up while you sleep,” Emery suggested.
“Another sleepover?” Kessian said, sounding not at all opposed.
It was my turn to avert my eyes. “I don’t know if the dreams require close proximity, but it’s worth a shot.” Ambrose had a knowing look on his face when I next looked up. Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. “Apart from that, I’ll need to call Warwick. Though I can’t ask him directly whether he’s a murderer or happens to know any, so I suppose Ishould … go chat with him and see if I can’t find more information in a sneaky fashion?”
Kessian made a face. “I don’t mean this as a dig, but you’ve said yourself that subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”
“Arrange to see him at his home,” Ambrose suggested. “While Tal speaks to Warwick, Kessian could sneak in and search for evidence.”
“I don’t know what sort of impression I’ve given, but I’m not a cat burglar,” Kessian said.
“No need,” Ambrose said, a note of affection hidden in his voice. “Emery is quite good with invisibility spells …”
While the three of them watched attentively, I called the number on Warwick’s card. I fed him a stilted lie about my hopes of coming back to Shearwater permanently and whether he could help. Luckily, all conversations with me were stilted, so he didn’t sound the least bit suspicious. He set aside an hour the following afternoon and provided his address.
His interest in me didn’t fill me with confidence. Whether he had anything to do with the deaths in Shearwater had yet to be proven, but whatever he wanted, I could guess it was selfishly motivated.
We all agreed it wouldn’t hurt to investigate Grandad’s office for any traces of his research as well. He’d left me his clocks and the house. Though legal transfer thereof would probably take a year, bureaucracy being what it was, I didn’t imagine my family would object.
With the meeting arranged and night falling, all that remained was to cast the trace spell, get some sleep, and hope we had answers about the strange dreams by morning. Emery provided the tithes for the spell and told me how to cast it. He would come help me extract the results in the morning. While I offered him the guest room, he insisted he could simply teleport home, and it would be more comfortable for them all to sleep in their own beds.
“Except Kessian, of course. But I’m sure he’ll be more than comfortable in yours,” Emery said.
I tried to hide my flush. I was still determined not to complicate my relationship with Kessian. The wraith might have trapped me in Shearwater for now, and I was committed to cleansing the strid to keep everyone safe, but I didn’t know yet whether—given the option—I’d returnto Shearwater permanently. There were more ghosts than Grandad’s between my family and I, more years of my adulthood spent apart than together. I didn’t know whether an exorcism would be worthwhile, or if we’d all grown up too different.
Or maybe I was simply running away again.
I prepared the spell, which involved tithing a plaited vine of willow branches and drawing a rune on Kessian’s temple while I tried to ignore how soft the fall of his fringe was against my knuckles, or how sharp the angle of his upper lip was in profile.
He seemed to sense the tension in my silence. “Stop fretting. I do understand the meaning of the wordno. Aside from the flirting, which unfortunately is how I am with everyone, I won’t ask about round two again.” That sharp upper lip of his twitched into a smirk. “If you want me, you’ll have to come get me.”
And I wanted him. Especially then, with the mischief sparking in his eyes. But wanting him and having him were two separate things. I didn’t get to keep people, and if I could, it had been so long I’d forgotten the steps. Dating, fucking, how much time needed to elapse before falling in love. I would trip and fall and skip all the steps on the way down.
So I cleared my throat, said “I’ll keep that in mind,” cast the trace spell with my fingerprint betraying my pulse as it drummed against Kessian’s temple, then got ready for bed.
But I couldn’t sleep. I lay there, head filled with my grandfather’s ghost, the wraith’s claws, the forest’s cryptic words, but not dreams. I wasn’t the only one who was restless. Kessian turned over, the mattress springing. Then a few minutes later, he turned over again.
“Can’t get comfortable?” I whispered into the dark.
“Sorry. Am I keeping you up?”
“Not you. Can’t seem to shut my brain off.”
“Ah. Well, I’m a side sleeper and my hips and legs aren’t happy right now unless I’m on my back. I can’t imagine the trace spell will work if we don’t get at least a couple hours.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It doesn’t seem the right time to get up and do stretches, and I can’t ask for a massage without going back on my word before, but if you have paracetamol handy, I wouldn’t say no.”
