Page 61 of Bonds of Magic
“He was?” Ash sounded relieved to have somewhere else to go.
“He still is. He’s waiting for you at the first table, the one by the stained glass window of the solar system.”
I didn’t want to try conjuring that dream out of thin air, since Ash had reacted so badly to what I’d done so far tonight. But maybe if I were specific enough, his brain would create that new dream for him? I hoped it worked like that.
I had questions for Noah when I got back, that was for sure. None of this was what I’d expected.
Whatever Ash was afraid of, it was powerful. In waking life, he would never leave me somewhere dangerous by myself. Which meant that whatever fear lurked in his dreams scared him more than anything we’d faced in the real world.
“Go,” I shouted, and with a final look, Ash turned around—and disappeared.
He didn’t walk away, didn’t run. He simply ceased to be present in the dream. And as soon as he was gone, the dream dissolved around me. Moments later, I sat up on Noah’s couch with a gasp, my mind still reeling from what I’d seen.
I looked around the cabin, reminding myself of where I was. Back home. Back at Vesperwood. Firmly ensconced in the waking world. And Noah was sitting there watching me from a safe distance across the room. As always.
I heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“Success?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. I found the dream I was looking for, but it still felt really shitty being there. I don’t know if I made it better or worse.”
“It’s okay,” Noah said placatingly. “It was only a dream. Whoever it belonged to, they may not even remember it in the morning.”
But I had a suspicion this dream would be hard for Ash to forget. It had felt time-worn, like an old pair of corduroy pants, the grooves beginning to go smooth from repeated washes. It felt like a dream he’d had more than once.
“Did you succeed in changing the dream the way you wanted to?” Noah asked.
“Yeah. But I don’t think it helped.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say.” I swung my legs off the couch and stood. “You’re not the one who was there.”
I paced across the cabin. There wasn’t much room for it. I could manage about six good strides before I had to turn around. But I felt too unsettled to sit still.
“I couldfeelit,” I said as I walked. “Feel everything he felt. I thought it would feel different from the other dreams. Since I wasn’t trying to—well, since I wasn’t asinvolved. But it almost felt like I was the one dreaming it.”
“You were, in a way,” Noah said. “Part of youisa dream.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel right, being in someone else’s head like that. I couldfeelhis fear. And I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t make it better.”
Noah nodded slowly. “Was it a nightmare? Those can be particularly powerful. Harder for the incubus to influence.”
Wasit a nightmare? It had started out so innocuous, so pleasant. There hadn’t been any monsters. Nothing scarier than some dark-looking trees. And yet—
“I think it was, for him. And I think I made it worse.”
“You didn’t.” Noah stood up and put his hands on my shoulders the next time I passed, stopping my pacing. “I promise.”
He didn’t ask whose dream it had been. Didn’t push for more details. He just stood there, so confident. Confident inme. Why was he so convinced I’d ever amount to anything?
“How can you be sure?” I looked up into his hazel eyes, the flecks of gold picked up by the soft lamplight of the cabin. They glowed like embers.
“Because you’re good. And I’m not talking about dreaming. You’re a good person. You didn’t make things worse.”
His answer was so quick, his voice was so solid that something inside me broke. No one had ever called me good before.
I looked up at him, my lips parting.
