SEVEN
The nightmare came again.
It always began the same way: the sense of being watched, followed by that sickening feeling of falling a great distance, making Angela wake with a scream trapped in her throat, her body rigid, with her breath tearing back into her lungs as she blinked at the ceiling from her sweat-soaked bed.
“I’m losing my mind,” Angela whispered, while clutching at her throat.
Four nights in a row she’d woken to the nightmare—ever since that night. The bruises were gone thanks to her mom’s herbal salve, which always worked wonders. Her always aunt said Angela was one of the lucky ones who healed quickly.
Pity the nightmare hadn’t disappeared.
She reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and tried to wash away the metallic taste of fear.
A new dreamcatcher’s woven web, decorated with feathers and beads, hung above the bed. Her aunt had insisted on giving it to her after the first nightmare.
Back then Angela had laughed it off. But not anymore.
The dreams never stayed whole. She always remembered the beginning only for the end to slide away from her like fog. Faces blurred. Details fractured. And the falling as if dropped from a great height, fed the thread of terror that remained.
Except for him.
Zarek.
His eyes, dark hair, and strong jawline.
How his cheekbones created shade when he tilted his head a certain way, how he carried so much strength across his broad shoulders, and how he suited his scarred leather armor and shiny blades.
She could remember every minute detail about Zarek, but the rest of the nightmare… Meh.
Of course, sleep abandoned her completely after that.
So she shoved the covers aside and padded into the kitchen, her bare feet cold against the tiles.
Maybe she’d go to work early and wear herself out.
Then tonight she’d drown herself in chamomile and whatever other herbal concoction Aunt Claudine claimed it could cure her insomnia.
Angela filled the kettle, set it on the stove, and stared out the window as dawn crept into the yard.
That was when she spotted the metallic monstrosity that hid the reason for her nightmares.
The barbecue.
Her hand shook as she unlocked the back door and stepped outside. With her heart pounding harder at every step, the grass was cold and wet beneath her feet as she crossed the yard.
Angela lifted the barbecue lid.
Inside, settling on the bottom of the grill was ash and the charred remains of cloth, leather, and some remnants of shoes, all reduced to a gray powder.
That night—the entire nightmarish event—had been real.
Slamming the lid down, the panic hit hard and fast. Her throat tightened as if those bony fingers were wrapping around her neck, her breath became shallow as her pulse roared in her ears.
She pictured those red eyes, and the putrid stench of evil, so vividly that she wanted to gag or collapse to her knees.
Then—
The wind died, and somehow the pressure eased, as if the fear had loosened its grip, replaced with a gentle warmth that spread through her chest.
“Zarek,” she whispered, as a calmness washed over her like some answer.
It had happened before. Every time the panic crested, she’d say Zarek’s name and it somehow steadied her.
Except this time, she was no longer alone.
She didn’t turn around, but she knew without a doubt he was there.
“I can feel you.” Angela stared down at the barbecue as her voice trembled. And it wasn’t the first time, she’d felt his presence a lot these past few days.
Yet it should have terrified her that she was here in the dark alone with him. When she carried pepper spray in her purse, triple-checked her doors were locked, and knew better than to trust strange men or go off in the dark on her own.
“I remember more than I’m supposed to.” The memory made her knees give out, and she sank to the damp ground, her fingers curling into the grass.
“I remember the black-cloaked creatures.” The tears spilled freely now as the lack of sleep made her feel helpless. “I can still see those red eyes. The man on the ground, and how you said you’d take care of him. You also said I wouldn’t remember… But I do.”
With gentle fingers, he tenderly brushed over her hair. “I’m so sorry,” Zarek murmured with grief heavy in his voice. “But you must forget.”
And just like that, his presence withdrew like a ghost on the breeze, and with it the warmth faded.
Angela lifted her head as her heart broke in a way she didn’t understand over someone she’d met once.
“I don’t want to forget you,” she admitted to the empty yard, where only silence answered.
It was also partly pathetic.
Come on, she knew better than this. She wasn’t the kind of girl who fell to her knees and cried on the grass. But she was also dog-tired and too scared to sleep because she’d seen the horrors of the night.
Wiping away her tears, she dragged herself to her feet and pushed through the lingering sorrow like a bulldozer.
“Right, then.” She rolled her shoulders and faced the empty yard. “Enough of this.”
She stomped back to the house, her resolve hardening with every step.
Nightmares didn’t leave ash behind. Which meant it was real.
So, if that night had been real, then she was done pretending. She’d learn to deal with it. After all she had an entire bookshop full of oddities to scour, to finally put all this nonsense to bed.