The Night Curse (Book one)

Even as my eyes register the dankness of my cell, so grim compared to the serenity of my dream, a smile plasters against my face.

I’ve only scratched the surface of my abilities as a Dreamwalker, but my brief experiments have left my skin tingling and my mind racing.

Mia has unleashed a torrent of power, and I am like a child—steadfast on playing with my new toy.

A drip of water from somewhere beyond my prison fills my mind with images of Mia being drenched in a thousand kisses and tongues, tossing, and turning with increased desire. It was all I could think to do to stop myself from giving in to my urges. Holding myself back from her was more difficult than sleeping in this hell hole. I couldn’t let her first time be with me locked up behind bars, unable to fully honour her, so I had to use my imagination instead.

Being a Dreamwalker certainly has its advantages.

“Visitor,” a bored voice booms. I spot the glow of the candle before I see the guard. His mouth opens to speak, and the flame illuminates the rotting teeth within, as brown as toffee. “You’ve got five minutes and not a second longer.”

He snorts back phlegm and descends back down the dark corridor. Echoey footsteps clatter towards me, too many for a single person, and I find my muscles tightening in trepidation.

Two men round the corner, and it isn’t relief that has my hands flying around the bars but doubt.

I blink again but the men remain as real as the flesh covering my bones. “Father,” I croak. “Brother. I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

Austin stays rooted behind my father. The flex of his jaw is the only sign that he’s noticed me at all.

My father removes his flat cap and wrings it in his hands, hardening my grip around the metal pillars. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve had word," he says softly. "The trial is forthcoming.”

“How soon?” I ask, but the pain on his face reveals as much. Not long enough.

“At dawn.”

Tomorrow. But, I have only just begun training. There’s no way that I can set everything in motion before tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, Son.”

His apology, as sincere as it sounds, has anger bubbling in my blood. I can’t tell if it is from the grim reaper that awaits me in the shadows or my new-found strength, but I scowl at his words like they’re repugnant insults.

“What are you sorry for, Father? Are you sorry that you sent your newborn to a witch so that she might change him from the one thing that you despise the most?”

He flinches as if punched in the gut, and I continue spouting my onslaught of wrath. “Are you sorry that you lied to me all these years and sold my soul to the devil? That you turned me against my own people for the sake of your own distaste and revenge?”

“Revenge?” he barks, breaking his silence.

Austin steps forward, puzzlement etched into his forehead. “What on Earth is he going on about?”

“I’m the Dreamwalker that killed Mother,” I blurt out hurridly as tears rush down my cheeks. “He took me to a witch that hid my mark and joined The Freemasons to avenge her death.”

“That is not why I joined them!” The bellow of my father's voice instantly halts my crying from shock alone.

“I joined them,” he starts, quieter this time but no less firm, “to protect you.”

Austin shakes his head, disbelief shrouding his expression. “Harlow is a Dreamwalker… I don’t believe it. How can this be?”

Father ignores Austin's question and stays fixed on me. He places his hands over mine, the connection bruising to my soul. “I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you boy, despite what happened to Evelyn. I couldn’t let anyone discover that our son, that you, were a Dreamwalker and risk you being taken away from me.” His voice breaks, and so does a piece of my heart. “There were legends of a witch in Ebony Woods that could help with ailments. I figured she was worth a shot. At first, she said nothing could be done. Then I told her of the circumstances of your birth, and she changed her tune.”

Austin scoffs. “This has got to be a joke, surely, father, we hunt Dreamwalkers! Why would you set this path for us if Harlow has been one all along?”

“Why indeed?” I cut in, attempting to cling to my sense of loathing.

“To divert attention for one, but moreover to seal your fate. For the concealment of your identity to become permanent, you had to kill one of your own before your twenty-first birthday.”

“And in being a Freemason I’d kill a Dreamwalker,” the words fall from my lips as the guard reappears.

"How did you find out?"

“I—”

“Times up I’m afraid,” the guard snaps.

My father’s hands slip away, and fresh tears spill down my cheeks.

The guard tugs on my father’s elbow, and all I can do is watch in horror as he fades away with a final plea. “Forgive me, Son, for everything.”