Page 68 of Their Blood Rite

‘You’re a dream walker, aren’t you?’

‘Sleep, Pixie.’

‘The dust from your palm… my mother read me stories.’

‘Stories about me?’

‘Stories of creatures created by the gods and goddesses witches serve. Stories of their offspring who inherit great powers and monstrous forms. You’re not a vampire. You’re a sleep spirit. A dream walker.’

‘Is that so?’

‘You had me dreaming of the sea. But I’ve never seen the sea.’

‘Clever little Pixie.’

Fuck… my heart hammers harder as I realise just how powerful these men actually are.

‘You saw me dream about the trigger. That’s how you knew about it.’

He doesn’t reply.

‘Was that a memory? My mother under the trees. Me in the mud.’

‘Go back to sleep.’

‘Will you walk my dreams again?’

‘You don’t dream. You scream.’

I pull up the sheet and tuck it tight under my neck.

‘Why are you on the floor too? I can’t run. I have nowhere to go.’

‘To keep you safe. To keep us safe.’

‘You safe?’ Now I laugh. ‘You worried I’ll hurt you?’

‘If we’re here, we’re not out there hunting down your sadistic fuck of a father or old coven.’ His arm falls over his eyes. ‘Or tearing Cole’s face off. All of which is a breach in the treaty.’

‘Do you think he knows this trigger thing? Cole, I mean.’

‘Maybe.’ His voice is distinctly colder.

They all fall silent, but it’s not a calm quiet. Not the kind that precedes sleep. It makes the air thicker and colder all at the same time.

‘Once a week,’ I say.

‘What?’ Shaw yawns.

‘Once a week. You can feed from me once a week to give your powers strength. I won’t fight you or be difficult.’

‘What if we like you being difficult?’ Archie teases.

I tut.

‘Well?’ I ask Shaw, ignoring Archie.

He lifts his arm. ‘And what do you want in return?’

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