Chapter Nineteen
Hyacinth
Hyacinth realized in a split second, she was dreaming.
There was something simultaneously so clear and yet so hazy about dreams. The world was painted in stark contrast in places while being so horrifically blurry in others.
It made her dizzy. Her legs wobbled. Shoulders aching, she couldn’t fly.
Not like this. Not with the winds like this.
She glanced up into the early morning sky and found the turbulent storm clouds still infecting the sky.
The wind slapped at her with wet leaves and pieces of her hair.
Soggy from rain and blood, she stumbled through the streets of a city she’d never lived in. Blink, blink. No, she knew that city.
King’s Fall.
Her foot slipped and she ran her shoulder straight into a pole.
Her body ached but she didn’t feel the pain.
Only heard the vibrations run up the light pole that loomed over her.
When she looked at the spot that tripped her up, she realized a hand lay in the middle of the sidewalk.
It was ragged, torn at the seams. Tattered flesh rippled in the strong wind before it rolled away from her.
She reached out to grab it but then stopped when her hands came into view. Blood.
She was covered in blood. Soaked to the bone in it.
Sinew fell off her drenched fingers that started to prune.
She turned over her palms, staring at them like it wasn’t her body.
This isn’t me. No this isn’t mine. This body didn’t belong to her.
Hyacinth would never do something like that!
And yet she stared at the same spot on her arm, a tooth-shaped cut that she stitched up from Snuffles bite…
covered in blood. Someone else’s blood. She plucked a long chunk of flesh off her and it slapped against the ground.
The winds roared over her head and alarms rang out in the city.
A sky that was once ash grey was suddenly red.
Just like her. Red. It flashed. Panic filled her belly and she knew without needing to understand, that she needed to leave.
Hyacinth ran with her wobbly legs and her stitched knees.
Barreling over trashcans that fell in the wind and racing against a clock she could only hear in her head, she bolted.
Her feet slapped against the concrete, leaving footprints behind.
Between the storm clouds flashing red and the rain that pelted through the shield over King’s Fall, her top concern was getting out.
Her arms ached from pumping so hard. It felt like it made her faster, but then her heart racing made her slow again. Exhaustion weighed down on her body.
I killed someone. She replayed it perfectly.
Through the flashes of light and whizzing of buildings past her, she imagined it from start to finish.
A woman made of pieces, lurking in the shadows.
There was a couple, so happy and giggly, they lingered a moment too long at a front door.
The porch light flickered but they were too busy kissing to notice.
When it went out, they cursed but laughed through their minor panic.
She didn’t hear what they said because she struck so fast, they had no time to scream.
Her fingers ripped through skin. Nails carved trenches in bone.
Her teeth were knives that tore through them.
Sawing and gnashing and biting and chewing.
Over and over, she tore out pieces of them and left them as a pile of carnage on that porch.
Only dragging both their heads with their eyes wide open in terror back to the tree.
A tree.
A tree!
She searched through her mind, through the memories, through the dream for a tree but she couldn’t find it.
Not before she broke out of the city and into the woods.
Rain rushed her immediately and washed away the last piece of evidence she was even there.
The storm roared overhead, blocking out the screaming alarms.
“Hyacinth.”
What tree!
“Hyacinth, wake up.”
She jerked in her body and ran her forehead straight into the headboard. Austin cursed under his breath, and she didn’t catch what word, but the sentiment was understood. His large palm covered the top of her head, as if to soothe the damage she’d brought upon herself.
His whisper was full of regret as he rubbed her skull tenderly, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to jerk you awake like that. But Lord Rosemont poked his head in. He needs my help, now that the storm’s passed.”
Hyacinth blinked before scrambling hand over ass out of his grip to the side of the bed. Snuffles sat in the windowsill as she came to a screeching halt. She could still hear a ghostly wind, but the sun was shining and a glittering blue sky existed overhead. “It’s gone.”
“Yeah,” Austin laughed softly, standing beside her. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, he took ahold of her by the hips and bent over to kiss her cheek. Her shoulders scrunched much like her nose, happy and giddy as he left a wet smack against her skin. “Good morning.”
She turned to return the gesture, only the door to the bedroom opened with a clumsy rattle.
Lord Rosemont was back, cane in one hand, and shovel in the other.
“Ah! Hyacinth, you’re awake. Good morning!
There’s breakfast downstairs. Chop, chop, my boy, there’s a many soggy logs awaiting us.
Plus, our fence needs reinforcing for obvious reasons. ”
“On my way, sir,” Austin gave their maker a two-finger salute before smiling down at Hyacinth. “Your trick must have worked. I didn’t have a single bad dream.”
He pressed another kiss to her other cheek before slipping away from her.
Wait. She wanted to grab him, but he was already out the bedroom door before reality caught up with her.
But I did. I did have a bad dream. She was stuck, like her feet were sewn to the floor, replaying the terrible nightmare that claimed her mind.
It sucked the joy out of the glorious sunlight or the glittering rainbow in the sky.
When she turned back, as if to enjoy the dew-covered treetops or gaze out at the disheveled yard, she could only see the blood.
“Snuffles,” she murmured, glancing down at her bunny in the windowsill. “Dreams are terrible things.”
She wondered if rabbits could dream for a moment before twisting from the window.
Her skin itched and eyes burned. I’ll need another drop of squonk tears, maybe?
She headed for the bathroom, the steady thump-thump-thump of Snuffles following her the only comfort as she opened the door.
A clean bathroom with a clawed foot tub and a massive sink lined with a heavy copper shelving unit greeted her.
She’d come to like the exposed pipes that ran the length of the wall.
She liked how they rattled when she turned on the faucet to the tub.
Peeling off Austin’s shirt was hard, it felt like it was fused with her skin.
Oddly enough, she didn’t smell him on her. Not anywhere but on her hands where she’d touched his chest. When she searched for his scent on her skin, she found she smelled like water. Which wasn’t fair as she’d purposely slept in his arms in hopes of smelling just like him.
Hyacinth glanced down to Snuffles who was busy bunching up the soiled fabric into a small nest for him to burrow into, and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Yet seeing him happily flop down into the fabric made it a smidgen better.
The steaming hot water with a layer of foam on top helped as well.
She sank into it and proceeded to melt. Dunking her head under, she let every inch of her body soften.
Hyacinth pushed back up to sit in the tub and heard the bedroom door open again.
“Hyacinth? You in here?”
“In here!” She called out, grabbing the washcloth and scrubbing her skin.
“Ah! A bath is a good call after yesterday,” Dahlia chuckled as she stepped into the room. “I thought I heard Sebastian rouse you two, how did you sleep?”
“Terrible.” She scowled to herself, scrubbing her legs extra hard as penance.
You never dream! And then you dream of killing someone?
Is that because of the woman? Did I make it all up in my head?
Hyacinth wasn’t sure how to form the words or explain herself to Dahlia.
“I dreamed of the storm, of getting caught in it, being covered in blood, and this terrible thing that I don’t understand. ”
“Mmm,” Dahlia hummed, nodding her head. The Lady of the Manor stepped in further, leaning against the heavy marble counter of the sink.
She was back to wearing a silvery blue dress with black lace gloves.
Dahlia made Hyacinth think of storybooks, of the women sketched in them wearing flowing gowns and their hair done up in tiaras.
Seeing her yesterday with three eyes and razor teeth somehow didn’t diminish the image of her either.
Almost like it belonged inside the same person.
“Do you think your dreams are trying to tell you something?”
“I don’t think dreams can speak.” Hyacinth blinked once, then peered up at Dahlia curiously.
The blonde woman snickered, “Touché, but your mind maybe trying to solve something, and with so much commotion yesterday, was unable to do so peacefully.”
“Hmm,” Hyacinth grumbled.
“Don’t think so?” Dahlia asked.
“Don’t like that answer. Don’t like what it wants to solve.
Whatever it is, I want it to stop,” Hyacinth spat out the words as she aggressively scrubbed her armpits then dunked back under to scrub her scalp raw.
Whatever my mind wants to solve, can it do it without nightmares? Or is this the woman’s doing?