Page 33 of Demon of Dreams

“Oh.” I blinked. “Yeah. I mean, yes. Sir.”

His expression was unreadable. “Good night, Cory.”

Once I was alone, I climbed out of bed and went straight to the armoire. I desperately needed a change of clothes. There was a small bathroom through a door in the corner, with a shower stocked with shampoo, conditioner, and soap. God, Ineededa shower. But I wasn’t sure I could stay awake long enough for one tonight.

I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up tight. I’d found Vesperwood. I’d found way more than I’d ever expected. And if the dean and Ash were to be believed, my life was never going back to normal. I still didn’t know why those tenelkiri things had attacked me, but honestly, they felt like the least of my worries at the moment.

An incubus. Was that really what I was? It was hard to wrap my brain around it.

Always knew there was something wrong with you.

My dad’s voice echoed through my mind, and I slid further under the covers. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, I’d learn how to get him out of my head. Or maybe it was what I deserved, for feeling relieved after he’d died.

I rolled over and stared into the darkness, disgusted with myself. There really was something wrong with me. What I’d let myself do tonight, even if it was only in some sort of trance, still wasn’t right.

I didn’t want to think about it anymore, but according to Dean Mansur, that was all I’d be able to think about until I got this under control. And control was something I desperately needed.

I just had to hope I could find it fast—before my desires got the better of me.

7

NOAH

The day after I met with Lew, I had a long set of sparring sessions with some Hunter seniors, most of them weapon-bonded by now. It was exhausting. I was good, and I had practice fighting against a host of paranormal creatures with different weaponry and fighting styles. But I wasn’t as fast as I once was, and each year, I noticed it more.

I’d lost so much, and speed was the least of it, but it rankled.

Still, sparring with the seniors was good for me. It kept me fresh, and kept me useful for the rest of my students. The seniors were, at most, twenty-two. Younger and quicker than I was, but with far less experience. And none of them had ever fought an opponent who truly sought to kill.

I hoped they never did, but I wanted them prepared anyway.

There was a dead sparrow on my doorstep when I got back to my cabin on Vesperwood’s grounds that evening. Another present from Mouse. Most of the time, she brought me voles or moles or, yes, the mice that were her namesake. But not today.

I preferred the rodents to birds, overall. They were smaller, and easier to clean up. Plus, I knew the statistics about outdoor cats and local bird populations. But there was nothing I could do.

Mouse had adopted me two years ago, but she refused to come inside the cabin. She’d evaded every trap I’d put out for her. She seemed to know that if I caught her, she’d be stuck inside a building for the rest of her life. She liked her freedom too much for that.

I tried not to feel bad for the small animals she left me. That was life. You were born, you lived, you died. In the animal kingdom, death by predation was common. It was the human world where that kind of death was rarer.

Iwas a predator in the human world. Or, at least, I had been. If I didn’t feel bad about the human lives I’d taken, why should I care about voles and sparrows?

I shouldn’t. But I did.

There was a meow in the darkness at the bottom of my steps as I unlocked my cabin door. I flicked on the light inside and looked back over my shoulder. Mouse slunk out from underneath the steps and flowed up to twine around my ankles. Her dark tortoiseshell coat was a mix of charcoal and gold in the light that spilled out of the cabin.

I bent down, just to stroke her fur, but before I could reach her, she jumped down to the ground with a hiss. She sat there, staring at me, her tail flicking in wary expectation.

“I wasn’t trying to pick you up,” I told her. “I’ve had enough scratches and bites from you for one lifetime. Believe me, I’m not making that mistake again.”

She just watched me, then meowed a second time. I could have sworn there was a note of impatience in it.

“Alright, alright. Just give me a minute. I need to open a fresh tin.”

I stepped inside the cabin, leaving the door ajar, in case she wanted to come in and warm up. She wouldn’t, but I did it anyway.

The cabin wasn’t actually that warm. It was one room, heated by a wood-burning fireplace, and I made sure the fire was out when I left each morning. I’d light a new one in a minute.

I rolled my neck and stretched out my shoulders, which made the center of my chest ache. Well, achemore. It had ached for the past seven years, but physical strain never helped.

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