Page 15 of Demon of Dreams

Tom gestured towards the window and I turned to look. Fat flakes were swirling down outside. A shiver ran along my spine.

“Make it out where?” I asked, wariness creeping into my voice. All his talk about hunting had set me on edge.

“The school,” he said, giving me a quizzical look. “That’s where you’re going, ain’t it?”

“I…guess?” I grabbed the bottle to give myself something to do, then set it down immediately. I was too confused to drink. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Is the school Vesperwood Academy? Is it close to here? Who are the hunters you’re talking about? I’m definitely not trying to hunt anything. I just—see, there were these pictures, and I was trying to find where they lead, but I…”

I pulled my phone out, then trailed off. I wasn’t sure if showing him the pictures would clear things up, or just make everything more confusing.

“Oh, youarea new one.” Tom let out a quiet laugh. “I always forget how green some of you are, when you first arrive. Here, let me see that.”

I extended my phone across the counter, but he shook his head and walked around to my side of the bar.

“Better light over here,” he said, coming to stand just to my left. I tipped my phone towards him, illuminated in the yellow light of the fixture above us.

“Right there.” He jabbed a finger at one of the pictures on the mood-board. “Those pines. They’re just up the road, on the right. Just before it swings down to Angler’s Rest.”

I stared. The picture Tom was pointing at was of two clumps of trees, swirled in mist. There might have been a road, or path, between them, but it was so foggy, it was hard to tell. I’d thought it was just one more moody photo of the woods.

He kept talking, his voice faint enough that I didn’t think anyone more than two feet away could hear us. Certainly not the man on the other side of the room.

“That bunch on the left has three trees growing so close together, you’d swear they were one organism,” Tom said. “And that one on the right was hit by lightning. Split the trunk in half, so long ago that nobody alive now remembers it ever being different. You can’t miss the entrance. Well, if you’re meant to see it, that is.”

“Meant to—”

“Aftershave?” Tom interrupted with a complete non-sequitur.

I turned to him. Was he standing closer to me?

“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly.

“You’ve got this sort of…scent about you,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. “Can’t quite put my finger on it. Like cloves, maybe. Or pipe smoke. Pipe smoke and black coffee, on a rainy morning. That’s it.”

“I’m sorry?” I was utterly baffled. Not to hear that I smelled. I knew I did, after the past twenty-four hours I’d lived through. But I couldn’t imagine I smelled anything likecloves, or anything else he’d mentioned.

“It ain’t a bad smell.” Tom paused, then looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. His pupils were dilated, and he inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling.

“Ain’t a bad smell at all,” he repeated. He took another step towards me, so close we were almost touching.

Out of nowhere, I realized I was hard again. My cheeks flushed. If Tom looked down, there was no way he wouldn’t notice.

Please don’t look down, I begged silently.Please don’t look down. Please…don’t…please…

The thought disintegrated in an eddy of smoke, my brain as foggy as a bathroom mirror after a shower, and I found myself spreading my legs wider on the barstool. A drowsiness was creeping over me, making the whole evening feel vaguely dreamlike.

I struggled to think clearly. What the hell was I doing? Flirting with Tom? More than flirting, even, and in public? What about the other guy in the bar? What if he noticed?

Tom stepped into the space I’d created with my legs, and I found it hard to remember my objections. God, I was tired. All I could think about was how close he was, and how badly I wanted a nap. I shrugged out of my coat, letting it hit the floor. Tom brought a hand to my thigh.

Please look down, I thought, then blinked. What? No, that wasn’t what I’d meant. That wasn’t what I wanted at all.

Or was it?

“You’re not in a hurry, are you?” Tom asked.

I opened my mouth to say that I was, actually, that I had somewhere very important to be, something I was running late for, in fact, and thanks very much for the pop but I needed to be going.

“No, no hurry.” The words rolled off my tongue, languid and sleep-laced.

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