Chapter 13 Faye
FAYE
In the middle of the night, a familiar presence caused Faye to stir.
She rolled over and tucked her duvet under her chin, rubbing her eyes. Her vision cleared. “Peter? You’re back!”
She beamed at Peter, reading in the armchair by her dressing table. His eyes widened; he clearly hadn’t been expecting her to wake up.
“I was wondering where you had got to.” Faye sat up, afraid that if she closed her eyes he would disappear again. She wondered if his cautious look to the door meant he had snuck in without alerting Lucy, asleep on the couch.
“Get some rest. We can talk another time,” he said softly.
Faye noticed a strange glow, an aura around his frame.
He was right in front of her, but hazy. She wasn’t sure if it was her eyes playing tricks on her or if the medicine she’d been given at the clinic was making her imagine him.
Curious, she slipped out of bed and walked over to him, a little unsteady on her healed feet.
The nurse wasn’t kidding when she said the balm worked fast. When she rested her hands on his shoulders, he felt very real.
“I see I shouldn’t have been so worried. Whatever they gave you at the clinic really helped you relax,” Peter said, sitting back to put some distance between them.
“How did you know I was at the clinic?” she asked, leaning forward.
“I always know where you are.”
Such words would have frightened her coming from anyone else, but from him, it made her feel safe. Peter brushed the tip of his nose against hers. The sensation made her lean back and rub her nose like she had suffered an electric shock.
“I felt that! Are you really here?” She moved in closer again.
“I am and I’m not.” He shrugged, looking back at his book as though unbothered by her study of him.
“Vague,” she huffed. “You’re here but not here… am I dreaming?” She poked his hard chest. “You feel real, but you look a little fuzzy.”
“You aren’t planning on taking advantage of me in a dream, are you?” he asked, holding her wrist so she couldn’t remove her hand from his chest.
“It’s my dream.” Her legs were growing tired, so she took the book from his hands and placed it on the dresser before sitting across his lap. A cute little frown furrowed his brow, and she pressed her finger to the centre of it, so he’d relax. “If you frown so much, you’re going to get wrinkles.”
“The dead don’t tend to have to worry about aging,” he said, not telling her to get up. Instead, he placed one hand on her hip and the other on her thigh, keeping her tucked against him.
With anyone else she would’ve been anxious about whether she weighed too much, or how she hadn’t shaved her legs, but with him, she didn’t feel the urge to pull her T-shirt down over her thighs or readjust so she could rest more on the chair than on him.
She merely let herself sink into his embrace and enjoy being held.
“Even in my dreams you can’t help reminding me that you’re dead,” she grumbled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was her dream; she could be as daring as she wanted.
“Are you comfortable? Do you want to go back to bed?”
“As grateful as I am to you for putting my bed together, I’m happy right here.” She kicked her feet playfully. “You shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”
“I’m sorry. Work called me away, but I’m here now, even if just for a little while,” Peter assured her. She couldn’t believe how real he felt, the warmth of his body as she rested her head against his chest.
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for putting my bed together.
” If it hadn’t been for the relaxants flowing through her bloodstream, she would feel embarrassed about her sudden display of affection.
However, she’d missed him and didn’t want him to go yet, even if it was just a dream.
Being with him was far better than being trapped in nightmares about her past.
“Now’s your chance.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?” Peter asked, holding her gently.
“I went to the clinic with Lucy because my brain told my body that dropping a lasagna was a life-threatening event. I met Dr Ocean, who seems nice. She gave me something to help me relax, and then a pink little pill to help me sleep. I think it’s making me hallucinate, because you seem terribly real. ” She reached up and pinched his cheek.
Peter winced.
Her eyes narrowed. Could he feel pain in a dream? In her dream?
“I’m glad Dr Ocean was able to help you, and that Lucy was there.”
“I wouldn’t have gone if she hadn’t found me having a breakdown, so as embarrassed as I am, I think it had to happen for me to realise how bad the attacks have got,” she confessed, struggling to keep her eyes open.
“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t confide in anyone. We want to help you, protect you—”
Faye cut him off. “It’s not your job to protect me. No one can be there for their friends all the time. Just being my friend is enough.”
“Friend,” Peter repeated flatly, and she didn’t know if it was a statement or a question. She was too tired to figure it out. They were friends. Maybe a little closer than most. It wasn’t like she expected Lucy or Luisa to hold her.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” he said quickly, lifting her into the air, and she kissed his cheek.
“See? You’re taking advantage of me in your dreams,” Peter chuckled.
She didn’t want him to put her down.
“Don’t go,” she groaned, as the mattress rose up to meet her. “When I wake up, you’ll be gone, and I’ll be alone again.”
“I promise I won’t be gone long.”
“Are you really here? Or is this a dream?”
“I’m really here, just in your dream,” he confessed, tucking the duvet up under her chin.
“Reapers can get into people’s dreams?” she gasped.
“Only when we need to, and that’s our little secret.” He pressed his finger to his lips.
Faye grabbed his sleeve before he could turn away. “Did you get in trouble because of me? Did your mentor find out about the wardings? Is that why you had to leave?”
“No, you didn’t get me into any trouble. I’m well able to do that myself,” Peter assured her, and the tightness in her chest resolved. It had been at the back of her mind that his sudden prolonged disappearance might be because of what they had done to protect her apartment.
“That’s a relief, but why come tonight?” Faye tried to ask, but a yawn muffled her question. Peter chuckled at her attempts to stay awake.
“Enough questions. Time to sleep.” He sat on the side of her bed, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. A tender kiss on her forehead was the last thing she felt before she slipped into sleep.
The shrill chime of the old alarm clock disturbed Faye’s deep sleep. She hated the idea of leaving her warm bed. I must thank Peter for putting it together…
She bolted upright. She had thanked him. Last night. Except thanking the dream version of him didn’t count. Even if he had told her he was visiting her dream, what else would the dream version of him say? Faye touched her forehead, remembering how real his kiss had felt.
Rushing out of bed, she searched her dressing table for the book he had been reading, but there was no book, and the chair sat neatly under her desk. Faye shook the thought from her head. He hadn’t come.
Downing the water by her bed, she realised how light she felt.
Usually, after a panic attack, her body felt heavy and slow.
Maybe it was thanks to the care from the clinic or that she was no longer carrying the secret of the attacks, but she felt – dare she even think it – peaceful, content.
Like in her dream, her feet were completely healed, no sign of any burns or blisters.
Still desperately thirsty, she headed for the kitchen and put thoughts of Peter and his ‘visit’ from her mind.
“Rosie!” she exclaimed, tripping over a furry beast outside her bedroom door. The wolf startled, getting out from under her feet, then stretched out, her claws scraping against the wooden floor. Rosie let out a low growl as she yawned.
“Talk about letting sleeping wolves lie,” Faye chuckled, patting her friend’s furry head.
Rosie grunted.
A note from Lucy was on the kitchen table. An urgent issue had arisen, and she’d had to get to the temple.
“Thank you for taking over,” Faye said to Rosie, who had followed her into the kitchen.
The full moon would make it hard for Rosie to shift out of wolf form.
There was barely enough room for them to sit together; her small apartment wasn’t designed for large wolves.
Thankfully, Scarlett didn’t seem frightened by Rosie’s presence.
In fact, the winged creature perched on the wolf’s back as though hitching a lift.
Faye took her phone from the table and snapped a photo for the group chat.
Luisa and Lucy needed to see the adorable moment.
“It still smells like lasagne in here,” she grumbled, although Scarlett had eaten up most of the mess.
Rosie’s snout lifted into the air as Faye opened the kitchen window. Something had caught her friend’s attention. She thought about the red eyes from last night.
“Ian?” she asked, her stomach dropping.
Rosie shook her head.
“Vampire?”
Rosie ignored the question and walked through to Faye’s bedroom.
Faye opened the window to let Rosie investigate the balcony, giving her some space as she sniffed along the metal railings.
The crowded space was barely able to accommodate a wolf.
Swishing her tail, Rosie knocked a plant pot off the ledge.
Faye tried to grab it, but she wasn’t fast enough. The crash of the pot hitting the tarmac made her wince, and at a loud cry she leaned over the railing.
“Ms Parker! You nearly clobbered me with your cacti,” Mr Lark shouted, waving his newspaper at her. Rosie didn’t notice the scene she had caused and continued sniffing at the wall beneath the kitchen window.
“Sorry, Mr Lark! It was an accident, and it won’t happen again,” Faye called, seeing that it had only missed him by a foot.
“See that it doesn’t.” Mr Lark stepped over the broken pot.
Great. Getting on the wrong side of a coven member is exactly what I needed this morning, Faye thought, ensuring Rosie’s tail didn’t topple over other plants until she hopped back inside the bedroom.
Following her to the kitchen, Faye found Rosie had shifted back to human form and was picking petals from her clothes.
“What did you smell?” Faye asked, not knowing what was worse: that a stranger was spying on her or that Ian was back and waiting to pounce. Where’s another sedative when I need it? She kept the thought to herself.
“I’m not sure,” Rosie said. “The scent is faint. I don’t know if it’s because someone was standing out there and too much time has passed, or if a scent just carried in the wind.”
“But it wasn’t Ian?” Faye asked, needing to be sure.
“No, I’d recognise Ian’s scent immediately, no matter how faint,” Rosie confirmed, scrunching her nose in disgust. “You didn’t have anyone out there recently working on renovations for the move?”
“No.” Faye shook her head. “The only people who’ve been in the apartment are you, Lucy, Peter and Benedict. Don’t freak out, but I dropped the lasagna last night because I saw a pair of red eyes through the window. Given all the stress and new adjustments, I thought I was imagining things.”
“I don’t think you imagined anything,” Rosie said tightly. “Did you mention what you saw to Lucy last night?”
“No, I thought it was in my head. Then, when Lucy arrived, I could barely string a sentence together. I was afraid to mention it at the clinic because I didn’t want them to think I was crazy.”
“I’m sorry you thought you wouldn’t be believed at the clinic, but what about Lucy? She’d believe you,” Rosie said gently.
“I wanted to tell her when we got home, but with the sedative they gave me at the clinic, I was out cold the minute my head hit the pillow.”
“That’s understandable.” Rosie took a deep breath as she processed. “Did you notice anything else other than the red eyes?”
“No, that was all I saw, and I immediately thought about Ian. I never really worried about another vampire stopping by,” Faye half-joked, but Rosie didn’t even attempt a smile.
“Thankfully, the wardings did their job and scared them off. It might have been a coincidence; a vamp in town might have got lost and stumbled onto the wrong balcony. Stranger things have happened,” Rosie said, although they both knew it was a stretch.
“Maybe we can figure out who came by if you can pick up the scent again around town?” Faye asked, wanting to be sure it wasn’t anyone with malicious intent.
“There was only a trace, but I’ll see if I can track them. If not, I’ll make sure to keep a nose out for any new scents in town,” Rosie agreed. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“At least there’s plenty of warding around the apartment, so there’s no chance of someone getting in,” Faye said, glad Peter had had the foresight to think of the windowsills and not just the doors. Another thing she had to thank him for whenever he popped back into her life.
“Good, because as much as I love you, playing guard-dog is hard on my back. Your floors aren’t all that comfortable to sleep on,” Rosie teased, stretching her arms above her head, working out the kinks. Her humour helped break the tension.
“You didn’t have to sleep on the floor,” Faye said.
She kept thinking about the dream. Could it have been real?
Could Grim Reapers visit the dreams of others?
If Rosie had been in the bedroom, would Peter have visited her?
Then again, if he had visited in a dream, would it have mattered whether she was alone or not?
The questions made her head ache. Maybe this was why humans weren’t supposed to learn so much about Grim Reapers and the complexity of dream travel.
“I couldn’t fit on your couch because it’s not big enough, and you were taking up the whole bed,” Rosie chuckled. “You sleep like a starfish.”
“At least I don’t growl in my sleep,” Faye countered.
Scarlett sat in her fruit bowl, watching the exchange like a tennis match.
Rosie gaped. “For that, you can treat me to breakfast.”
“Absolutely. Just let me get dressed, and my skills and ovens are all yours,” Faye promised, heading for the shower.
“Don’t be too long, or I’ll eat all your prep!” Rosie called after her.
“Don’t you dare!” Faye shouted through the door, but she moved faster. She knew not to keep a hungry werewolf waiting.