Page 2 of Haunted Hearts

“Cade.”

I bolt upright in my bed. Sweat beads on my forehead as the unease from that dream settles. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dream like that; they stopped showing up after you began to fill my head. Looking around my bedroom, I find it feels artificial and muted. As if I’m still in a dream. I thought they had stopped forever…

I did everything I was supposed to do, meditation, frequencies. I even studied Buddhist philosophy, for fuck’s sake. But I suppose the dissociation, the fear, the dreams never truly go away.

They just become more tolerable over time.

I just got home last night. I’m still injured from my captivity. The nightmare makes sense, despite that. My father’s face is still burned in my mind. I notice the tremor in my hands as the frustration begins to curdle into anger.

I can’t stand this. I hate feeling weak.

My mind is supposed to be the one fucking place that I’m able to control. My head has no right to fuck with me this much. So I compensate, controlling every aspect of my life I can.

Though I can’t control you.

But you brought me comfort. You brought me safety in my own mind. For the first time.

You have shown me peace.

I grip the pendulum, searching the air for you. The stone is warmer than it should be in my hand. I immediately feel the low hum of the presence in the room and lean into it.

A warm current traces over my shoulder, and I close my eyes, taking it in. The pressure eases. I feel my face soften as the room begins to feel lighter. I open my eyes, noticing the light filtering in from the curtain, the dust particles floating in the air.

Whatever power you have over me—keep it.

I focus on the motes. Watching lazily as they reflect the light, letting it ground me. Exhaling a long breath, I sit up, swinging my legs over the side.

“Feel free to take over my dreams for the foreseeable future,” I whisper softly into the air.

Hell, just keep me there, you are the only thing that feels real anyway.

“I can tell you like that idea. You’re as easy to read as a book sometimes.”

An energy flows into the room as if someone told a bad joke.

“Did I say something funny?”

Shaking my head, I stand and grab a pair of jeans from the dresser near the window. The ground outside is covered in a thin blanket of snow. A bit early for the first snowfall of the year, but I take a moment to marvel at it. I enjoy the winter months, always have. I hated growing up in the heat. The first snowfall I ever saw was the year I moved us to Washington. That year I got to see the wonder in my sister’s eyes for the first time. Things were easier back then. She was easy to please, easy to keep here. Back before she wanted to fight.

She’s an idiot, and I raised her better than that. She should know that I know what’s best.

Murder just happens to be what’s best.

“Don’t do that; I can feel you giving me a look…”

As if you’ve become my conscience, an internal part of me thinks I’m wrong. But I’m not.

This game we have been playing with the Covenant is coming to an end, but everything that has happened feels too convenient, the pieces seeming to fit together too well, as if directed by an unknown hand. Everything thus far has worked in my favor, even being captured. I gained an ally in Ben, who is still holed up with Rosa White in their compound, and the Covenant’s resident witch, Genevieve. I set her up in the room across from mine to keep an eye on her. She may be Calli’s old friend, but she grew up with them. I would be an idiot to trust a stranger who just so happens to be a witch, but maybe she can be of use by training Calli.

I may believe in magic, but this all feels too convenient. My gut tells me this game was rigged from the start.

I head downstairs. The house is tidy—cleaner than usual. I make my way to the kitchen to see Genevieve sitting at the dining table looking somber. I ignore her and pour myself a cup of coffee, rolling my eyes.

I imagine all this was her, trying to distract herself, and trying to get on my good side. I appreciate her cleaning up, but I’m not going to say anything, because I don’t want to encourage her. This house is quickly becoming too crowded. Too many variables under one roof.

It’s inconvenient at best, dangerous at worst if she isn’t useful.

I feel as if I’ve said something to offend—I search the empty air for you.