Page 39

While I scrubbed the caked-up mud from my skin in the shower, I struggled to organize my thoughts.

I don't know if it was from the healing, another attempt on my life, the death threat from a Madame, or what, but I was completely mentally and emotionally exhausted.

I used to think that I had thick skin and could handle anything, but now I wasn't so sure.

Since last June, around my birthday, it felt like something had been coming after me, but it didn't want me dead. It wanted to possess me, to take ownership of me!

That was when the nightmares started again, only they were worse than they were before.

At the Academy, students only get a two-month summer vacation. That is if you are lucky enough to get a vacation.

I got to spend six weeks with Zane and our parents in California.

When Zane was around, the nightmares weren't as bad.

Once he headed back to his Academy, the nightmares came back in full force.

That had to mean something, didn't it?

The nightmares varied in their meaning and what or who was in them.

Sometimes it was just me standing in a penumbra where wraiths were reaching out for me from the sliver of light I was the shadow in the middle of. They used to scare the hell out of me, but now they are just an annoyance.

The scary dreams are when I'm running from or fighting Werewolves and Upírs.

When I fight, the result is always the same...

I am turned into something evil.

That is my biggest fear, losing my soul to Devilry. I think that is why I train as hard as I do. It's my only chance at surviving if these dreams are in fact a glimpse into my future.

When I first started having the nightmares, I told Slevin and Harper about them and they were both concerned. They helped me dive into research about dreams and what they could mean.

Unfortunately, there aren't many books on Oneirology as they pertain to the world of thaumaturgy. The books written by humans were ridiculous, flooded with words like fate, stress, loss, and other ridiculous stuff that didn't apply.

Slevin suggested hypnosis, I told him to go do something that was anatomically impossible.

Jolyn offered prayer.

That wasn't my thing.

Then Jolyn suggested that I sit down with the Healing Center's resident psychiatrist, Dr. Carballar.

I declined the offer; it was nothing personal against Dr. Carballar, it just wasn't something I wanted to talk to a stranger about.

Eventually, I had to keep the truth from Jolyn and acted as if the nightmares had gone away or that they weren't as bad as they once were. It wasn't entirely untruthful, and Zane was around at the time, so the nightmares were just inconvenient instead of terrifying.

Slevin didn't press the matter and ran interference for me with Jolyn.

Harper was concerned though.

I'd find him asleep in the chair in my room in the middle of the night. He thought I didn't know because he'd leave before I got up, but when he started waking up with a blanket on, he knew I knew. Finally, I just put a post-it note on his forehead that said get your happy ass in here with an arrow pointing to the bed.

Those days were enjoyable compared to now.

Back then, the worst part of my life was missing my father, grandma, and brother, the occasional stint in detention, a fistfight here and there, mouthing off to a Professor or Royal, some nightmares, a migraine, and a couple of emotional outbursts.

That was a walk in the park compared to what my life had rapidly become.

Was it merely coincidental that things got worse once Viggo showed up at the Vancouver Academy?

I wish I could say that it was serendipitous, but it is a very real possibility that Prince de Babineaux was the root cause of all of this.

The water ran cold ten minutes ago.

Still mentally and emotionally disconnected, I shut off the water, wrapped a towel around my body, and headed to the vanity. After wiping the steam off of the mirror, I examined my reflection. I looked better than I did when we got here, better than I had looked since Viggo walked into my life.

The dark circles that had been a constant under my eyes were gone and the intense gold-streaked blue was back, split and chapped lips were back to their overly full taupe rose-tinted pillows of hate spewing disdain—as more than one Royal at the Academy has commented they were—and my previously ghastly pallor was once again healthy coffee with warm creamy yellow undertones and soft freckles. My hair was satiny again, and starting to curl despite the water saturating it.

But most importantly, there was no sign of the claw or fang marks left on my skin.

Majandra's bathroom matched her bedroom; white and bright with French country accents including a vast array of perfumes, face creams, makeup, and beautiful jewelry. Looking over all of the crap Majandra had on the vanity, I found some fragrance-free lotion that didn't look too expensive so I helped myself to it because the grit from the mud was still at the forefront in my mind even if it was all mental.

While I rubbed the lotion on my arms, something strange rose to the surface of my skin; tan lines that wrapped around each other, a delicate combination of lines, dots, sigils, and symbols that were unfamiliar to me, but they looked strikingly like those Viggo had along his spine.

"These weren't here a few minutes ago," I mumbled under my breath.

I looked in the mirror and examined my body, and as I moved in the light, even more markings became visible before fading just as quickly as they appeared.

"What the... Am I high?" I complained.

I watched in wide-eyed wonder as the markings moved as if they had a consciousness up my arms, wrapping around my shoulders and across my chest, and up the sides of my neck to the sides of my face.

A frantic pounding on the bathroom door made me jump, stealing my attention from my reflection.

"Sis, are you okay?" Zane called out.

I pulled my towel up and opened the door and looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you see this?" I asked, holding my arm out.

Zane looked at me curiously and then to my arm. "See what?"

"The-" I started to explain but they were gone. "What in the hell was in that mud?"

"I don't know. Smells like jasmine and night-blooming orchids in the springtime instead of boardwalk taffy."

I gave him a look.

"What?" he asked. "Why the look?"

"Because that is oddly specific and exactly what it smells like and I hadn't even noticed," I said. "But you noticed, how is that possible?"

Zane smiled. "I asked questions while you were dying before I'd let them put you in anything without doing my due diligence first. Are you okay? I felt your anxiety all the way across the estate," he explained, rather proud of himself before he hugged me.

I hugged him back and instantly started to feel better.

"Something is wrong," I whispered. "Zannie, I'm seeing stuff."

Zane chuckled. "Sis, we all do. Why do you think I drink so much? It makes it go away, or it makes it more tolerable."

"What do you mean? What do you see?" I asked.

He shrugged. "We'll talk about it later. You need to eat before we call Mom and Dad back. They are anxiously waiting for an update, and I'm tired of Mom chewing my ass about stuff I don't know anything about."

Yeah, I can't fault him for not wanting to deal with that.

"Sorry, Zannie," I said, forcing a smile.

Zane led me back into the bedroom where a dress was laid out on the bed.

"I know Mom is a lot to handle, and no one willingly signs up for that."

"Amen," he agreed, leaning to the side then smirked when he saw something on the floor, partially hidden under the bed.

I didn't want to know what it was, and my imagination was already running wild as is.

"I'm not wearing a damn dress."

"Don't be difficult," he groaned, hopping up on the edge of the bed before he started bouncing, checking the springs.

Pervert.

"Ooh, bouncy!" he beamed.

"Please stop, I don't have anything in my stomach anymore. Even though I puked everything up all over the floor, that doesn't mean I can't get sick. Harper!" I called out, loudly.

"What does that puppy have that I don't?" Zane pouted, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Before I could tell him a lot, Harper knocked at the door before slipping into the room.

"Hey Love, you look so much better," he said, hugging me. "I was so scared."

"Can't kill me that easily," I reminded him. "Can I borrow your shirt since Zannie's is too small?"

"Rude much?" Zane complained.

"Shut up. It'd fit perfectly but I like them oversized because I have boobs and your shirt will hike up and show my butt to everyone," I said, before looking at Harper. "Please."

Harper looked around me at the dress then sighed, and started unbuttoning his dress shirt. "You know I'm only giving you my dicky because I love you, right? I think that you'd look amazing in a dress, and I know I'm not the only one who would think that, but I won't force you." He handed me his dress shirt, leaving him standing there in slacks and a tank top.

"Thanks. Will you see if they have a pair of pants or something I can borrow?" I sheepishly asked.

Harper kissed me on the top of the head then headed from the room in search of pants for me.

This was the calm before the Blood Brothel storm, I just knew it.