The Night Curse (Book one)

I’m back in the cottage, the image of my father no longer haunting my dream.

Kissing Mia must have manifested him, and the part of me that seeks hatred for Dreamwalkers. Those beliefs feel like a distant memory now. I have sipped a tonic sweeter and purer than any delicacy or culinary delight. The ghost of her still loiters on my lips, warming my soul. I know that it was wrong. I know that it was selfish, but I couldn’t help myself. Not kissing Amelia was like refusing water after a draught. Finally kissing her satisfied my aching thirst. If only for a second, and then, I was desperate once more. Until my father.

I find the diary, Mia’s Grandmothers, and read entry after entry until the wax in my candle is a translucent puddle. Hyacinth was a Dreamwalker like her Granddaughter. She married a human called Thomas. They produce a son—Lord George Harling, Amelia’s father. It’s an unbelievable triumph. A matchmaking of opposites who managed to lead a relatively harmonious life here on the Harling Estate. They forgo servants entirely, choosing instead to live freely at the manor. Together, they experiment with dreams and explore Hyacinth’s talents to unusual lengths. I am both fascinated and appalled at their audacity. Towards the end of the entries though, Hyacinth expresses how pleased she is to have a son without dream-wielding abilities, knowing how difficult life would have been for him. The final line tethers me to my chair long after I read it.

I only wish that George will be as lucky as I and bear children who are human and plain and safe.

Even Hyacinth didn’t want Amelia to exist. And I’ve given up on her at the first hurdle.

At the crack of dawn, a loud bang ricochets through the cottage.

Bang, bang, bang.

I hurry down the stairs as fast as my legs can carry me. The person continues hitting the door with their fist until I swing it open, ready to give them what for.

The same man from my dream, my father, Frederick, stands before me. His hair is slick with sweat. There are purple circles under his eyes, and his expression is panic-stricken. Beside him is Hugo, the butler, and Peter, one of Kennith’s henchmen.

“I’m sorry, Mr Elworth, they insisted on coming at once,” Hugo apologises.

I reach out to my father. “What’s the matter?”

He squeezes my forearms with bruising force. He opens his mouth, about to speak, when Peter turns to Hugo. “Give us a minute, please.”

The butler nods reluctantly and treads back up the gravel path towards the manor. Peter waits until he’s out of earshot before giving my father a permitting tip of his head.

“Son, it’s Austin. He’s been taken.”

“What? By whom?”

“Dreamwalkers,” Peter cuts in.

“When?”

“Last night,” my father says to the floor. “They came for him as he slept.”

“Typical, isn’t it?” Peter chuckles, but I find it difficult to join in. Panic is pulsating through my blood.

“Why would Dreamwalkers want to take Austin?”

“When you left, Kennith put him on a job. He was seen. The Dreamwalkers sought revenge.”

“So why aren’t you out there looking for him?” My voice is strained.

“Kennith’s men have been searching all night,” Peter shouts, spitting each syllable. “We thought you’d want to join us. Unless there’s something else keeping you here?”

I don’t even dare think of her name in case my face gives something away. “Nothing. I haven’t found any Dreamwalker.”

Peter looks unconvinced. Does he know something? Have I been surveyed?

“Then pack your things, boy. Consider this your on-the-job training.”

My dad’s gaze is pleading. “Will you help us, Harlow?”

I’m not sure why they need me when Kennith’s gang is far superior, but it’s my brother. I’ll do anything to find him and bring him home. “Of course, I will.”

Peter takes a step back, pivoting for the path. “Let’s go.”

I follow them both through the gardens, noticing how many more roses are in bloom. Hugo is waiting by the steps. “Is everything alright?”

“Harlow is urgently needed by Her Majesty. He’ll be resigning from his post. We will organise for his personal belongings to be collected in due course.”

Hugo’s eyes are as wide as dinnerplates. He clears his throat. “Thank you for your service, Mr Elworth. Lord and Lady Harling will be disappointed to hear of your leaving, but I shall explain everything on your behalf.”

“Thank you,” I manage, not quite believing that this is the last time I will be here at Harling Manor. No more cottage. No more rose gardens, that I haven’t even had the liberty of seeing in full bloom. No more nightly missions or stolen kisses.

“This way,” Peter says, walking towards a black carriage. My father climbs in, and then Peter. I hover by, stealing a final glance at the estate and Mia’s window. I can’t see anyone watching, and part of me is grateful, but another is in mourning.

Hours ago I was locked in a kiss with Mia, a Dreamwalker. Now, I’m being severed from her, only to learn that my brother is in danger. My world is capsized, but I can’t allow it to drown me. I need to be strong for my family—my duty.

I clamber into the carriage and shut the door, unprepared for my new reality.