Page 3 of My Blood Is Yours

His eyes shift to the corner, where themundrapedrasits—too far away for either of us to reach.

“You’ll find me! I trust you!”

“What?! There are infinite realms! What if I can’t?!”

“You will.”

“What if you’re wrong?!”

The corner of his mouth tips up in a grin just before he releases his hold on me entirely, and he disappears into the black sky of a world I’ve never known.

“Little brother, I am never wrong.”

ELOWEN

Magda narrows her crinkled eyes at me from where she sits on the other side of a wood crate draped in a grubby patchwork quilt, cluttered with crystals, incense, and oracle cards. I’ve known Magda since I was a child. Though we’ve never been close, we have a shared history of living on the streets of London—until my now-deceased mother managed to get a job as a house servant for a wealthy widow when I was an adolescent.

“You’ve been havin’ reoccurrin’ dreams about what now?”

Though we sit alone in Magda’s gypsy tent, I glance around nervously, embarrassment flaming my cheeks. On an exhale, I lower my voice to a whisper.

“You know… like a man with horns and bat-like wings.”

Her bushy brows leap towards her silvery hairline, though her reply sounds as casual as someone inquiring about a loaf of bread.

“So, a daemon?”

My fingers twist anxiously in the fabric of my plain dress. “He doesn’tfeellike a daemon. Certainly not a malevolent one. He’s… tender and loving.”

Magda gives me a knowing look. With lips carved through with smoker’s lines, a saucy grin curls at one corner. Her thick Irish accent further emphasizes the implication of her reply.“Tender, eh?”

I purse my lips, trying to hide my grin.“Quite.”

She waggles her fluffy brows at me.

“Well, then. I’ll need every last detail...for science.”

My jaw pops open wide enough to tempt a priest, but it only makes Magda grin all the wider.

“That good, eh?”

My jaw slams shut before I manage to splutter a response. “Well, I—I wouldn’t wish to offend you, Lady Magda?—”

Magda gives a hoarse bark of laughter.

“Girl, I can guarantee that whateveroffensiveacts yer committin’ with bat boy in yer dreams aren’t even half as bad—or as good—as the ones I’ve done in real life.”

I clear my throat, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “I suppose it can’t hurt to give a few?—”

“Every last one.”

“—details if you think it’ll help discern the root cause of… what’s going on.”

She somehow manages to swiftly roll her own cigarette without even breaking my stare as I gather my thoughts.

“Well, usually, the dreams start out in a palace?—”

Magda chuckles, lighting her cigarette. “Ooooh, fancy pants, are we?”

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