be and remain in control. “Lies.”
“Why would I tell you lies, my child?”
He laid a hand on his heart, then held it out to her.
“Why would you choose to believe those on the other side when they spin their lies? They show you smiles and arms of welcome, but they wish only to use you.”
“They’ve shown me the truth,” she countered. “They’ve given me back what’s mine.”
“Have they?” As if in sorrow, he shook his head. “They awaken you, tell you soft, pretty lies to draw you in. To use what you are to destroy me. And then they would destroy you. You, of my blood, they will burn you in the ritual fire should you fail, should you succeed. How can they risk such as you? How can they risk your power?”
“They would never hurt me. They’d never turn against me.”
“Haven’t they already turned? You gave your body to their taoiseach, but he turned away, walked away—as did your father—when you were not as he wished. They only desire to hold what they have, and when your use is done, they will end you.
“But I?”
He’d moved closer, just a step, but she could feel his dark energy, deadly, damning, drugging.
“I will help make you the goddess you are, and give you your choice of worlds to rule. I will drape you in power like black silk. All I ask is for you to join your power with mine. To give me a few sips.”
Closer still, close enough to touch her now if he reached out. She threw up her hands, pushed again. “No.”
His face twisted all charm away. “Then I will drain you and leave you empty and mad. You’ll be weak, lost, alone, as you’ve always been. Give or I take. Those are the choices.”
She fisted her hands, drew her power in, and yanked herself out of the dream. As she did, she felt his fingers score over her cheek.
Breathless, she scrambled up, running a hand over her face as she wound a ball of light with the other.
No blood, she thought, but rushed into the bathroom to look in the mirror.
No mark, no blood, no scratches.
But she could feel the cold still, and the echo of pain with it.
“An illusion.”
She went back to grab the bottle of water beside the bed, and drank half of it.
“But I controlled it. I held the reins.”
Still, she wished she’d brought the scrying mirror, wished she could talk to her grandmother. Because, control or not, Odran’s words hung heavy in her mind.
For the first time since kindergarten, Breen didn’t spend September in a classroom. Twice, she woke, all but sleepwalked her way toward the shower to get ready for that classroom.
Her face in the mirror over the sink, her hair—bold red, not the dull brown of her classroom days—snapped her into reality.
And twice, she did a little dance in the bathroom.
The freedom hit, always, like that first sip of coffee in the morning, like a taste of fine wine, like the aftermath of really good sex.
Yes, she carried weighty responsibility, had hard decisions to make, but she didn’t have to report to a job that didn’t suit her, or one she didn’t suit.
She believed an entire generation of middle schoolers would be better for it.
Freedom gave her time to write, time to spend with people she loved, time to think, and time to plan.
She waited, hoping to squeeze what she wanted to say to Marco between his arrival home from his day job and his date with a fitness instructor he’d been seeing for a couple of weeks.
But when he came home, he dropped down, then toed off his battered Nikes. “Let’s order pizza.”
“I thought you were going out with Mr. Hotness. Dinner, an art opening.”
Marco held out a fist, thumb up, then turned it upside down.
“Oh. Why?”
“I’m not enough fun.”
“Bollocks to that!” Insulted, Breen slapped her own fists to her hips. “You’re awesome fun. You’re almost too much fun.”
“I work two jobs, horn in—his words—time for my own music, and I’m only up for going out, for partying, once, maybe twice a week. Anyway.” He shrugged. “The art opening was my thing. He mostly wants to go clubbing, and I can get clubbed-out after working five, maybe six nights a week at Sally’s.”
“Well, he’s shallow and stupid.”
“Yeah.” Marco grinned at that. “I knew that going in. I mostly just went for his body. I mean, holy shit, did you see his body?”
“I couldn’t help it. It was right there. You