Page 109 of An Invocation of Monsters

I stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around me, and brushed my teeth multiple times, scrubbing the taste of sickness out of my mouth.

When I collapsed into my broken bed, I fell into a deep sleep, but it was not dreamless.

It was full of nightmares, Tasha screaming as the Void took her mind.

34

Elle

I woke up with a start, sensing a presence near me.

Again.

But fear gave way to an unpleasant jolt of surprise when I pushed the covers back and saw Willow sitting on the edge of my bed, holding something in her hands.

She was staring out the window at the lake, her eyes far away.

The sun was just rising, sending soft warm rays over the water and painting it gold.

How long had she been sitting there? She toyed with the thing she was holding—what looked like a leather-covered journal—flipping the ribbon back and forth, back and forth.

She didn’t look too much worse for wear, considering she’d almost died not that long ago.

“What are you doing here, Willow?” I felt oddly vulnerable in bed, with her perched there like a thin, pale bird of prey.

She slowly tore her gaze from the window and turned her too-large eyes on me.

There was nothing dreamy or vague about her today; her gaze was sharp, and there was an almost cruel tilt to the corner of her mouth.

“I thought I would thank you for saving my life,” she said. She stopped playing with the ribbon, smoothing a hand over the cover of the notebook.

God, this was the last thing I wanted.

“No problem,” I muttered, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

She continued to stare at me in silence, which creeped me a little.

Okay, a lot.

It was eerie, especially since the sclera of her right eye was still tinted pink.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I finally asked.

Willow’s lips twitched. “Not anymore.”

Alright. I’d had enough of this. I climbed out of bed, gesturing to the door. “Well, you’re welcome, but I’m going to get dressed now, so you can go.”

She lowered her feet, standing up and looking around my room with open curiosity, her gaze resting on the piles of wilting wildflowers, the shredded papers, the shattered wood of the bed frame.

Then she exhaled and extended her arm, dropping the journal on the bed. “This is for you. I see a lot, you know.”

“Good for you,” I muttered, wishing I could teleport her at least ten miles from my vicinity.

“I hear a lot, too,” she continued, her gaze still sharp. “Sometimes I have sex with Joseph and he talks in his sleep.”

That floored me. I stared at her, feeling nauseated.

I didn’t even know what to say to something like that. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem like it would even begin to cover that scenario.

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