I realize I’m dreaming because the dream is a memory.

E.J’s arms wrapped hard and unyielding around me, my legs locked about her waist. Both of us finally assured enough in ourselves to let go. To give in.

“J,” I whisper in her ear, and I feel her smile against my hair as I call her that for the first time. “I want you.”

Though I know what happens next, I pray silently to stay asleep. Maybe I can make it work differently here. Reclaim what would have been our first real time together—if only as a fantasy.

Maybe that’s what sparks the sudden bolt of red lightning that lances across the sky outside—searing away all sense of familiarity and memory as E.J’s townhouse vanishes from around us. Black mountains stretch out in all directions. An enormous full moon glares through the clouds in a corona of hazy pink. There’s nothing sheltering us but open air, our bed turned to a large slab of rough stone carved from the mountain peak.

More red bolts of light shred the sky, and a sensation like cold fire radiates through my body, overwhelming me. I cry out, eyes squeezing shut and head thrown back as my fangs lengthen and a thirst unlike any I’ve every felt before claws its way up from deep within me, its jaws clenched around my heart.

When I open my eyes again, I don’t see E.J. crouched on the stone beside me any longer. All I see is prey.

~*~

I wake suddenly in a cold sweat and breathing hard, as if startled by a loud sound. My thoughts are muddled beneath a shroud of fear and confusion. Veins of purple light crackle across my skin, and my first instinct is to suppress them. No thoughts but darkness. No feelings but calm.

“You’re alright. It’s alright,” E.J’s voice breaks through the fog. Her touch brings me back to myself. My vision comes into focus slowly, starting at her eyes and expanding outward. She’s sitting at the very end of the couch, wedged up against the arm of it. I’m crouched at her side in nothing but a wildly oversized t-shirt, the only kind of clothing I can sleep in when I have to sleep in clothes. My bare legs are folded beneath me—arms raised in the air between us with E.J.’s hands clamped around my wrists.

“Wha—what did I do?” I ask shakily. Her grip loosens, eyes searching mine, and then she releases me.

“You’re were shrieking and thrashing around in your sleep. I came out to comfort you, then you growled a bit and uh, sat up towards me,” she explains, doing her best to be subtle as she shifts backward and onto the arm of the couch where my legs can’t press against hers.

I narrow my eyes. “You mean I lunged at you.”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it a lunge. You sat up quickly in my direction.”

Exhaling through my nose in a short huff, I lift my hands back into view, displaying the bruises already forming colorful patterns over the shell-white of my wrists. I raise my eyebrows, but she just takes a deep breath in through her teeth, steadying herself on her perch.

Then, as I’m glaring up at her, waiting for a response—I realize something.

She’s entirely human.

“Wait, I just had a flare. How have you not changed?” my gaze roves over her, then catches on her hand as it shoots up to her neck. “Wha...what is that?”

I could swear my heart stops beating for a moment as my eyes fix on the collar she’s wearing before she shields it from view.

“It’s an experiment.”

My lips work silently, and then finally—as her hands drop away—I find some words. “What kind of experiment?” It doesn’t look like any Otherside collar I’ve ever seen. The band is thick, gray and made of some sort of flexible matte material, but set into it at intervals are rectangular plates of stone.

She looks away from me.

“I never really gave up,” she says after a moment, as if that’s some kind explanation. But then her eyes turn back to mine. “On us, I mean.” Her hand fidgets at the collar.

“It’s got the same kind of Umbra-blocking stone inside it as my chamber back at the mountain house. “It prevents me from shifting—from using any of my Umbral abilities.”

While she’s been talking, I’ve been looking more closely at her. At the collar. At the way her skin has gone subtly gray where it shows from beneath it. At the way her hands keep going to it, adjusting it, pulling it away from the skin and releasing it again.

“It’s hurting you.”

She frowns. ”For a prototype, it’s extremely effective.”

“That wasn’t my point,” I snap, pulling my shirt up as it slips down my shoulder only to give it the slack it needs to slip down the other. her eyes catch briefly on the shifting exposure of skin.

“Well, if you’re alright now, I’ll let you get back to sleep. You could still get another hour and half or so,” she makes to get up, but I grab hold of her hand.

“J, please. You can’t just tell me you’ve created something that blocks you from shifting and then walk away from me. If you’re going to use this even though it hurts you, doesn’t that mean...“

I trail off as her muscles tense, a pained expression twisting her features as she looks down at me. Then she pulls her hand away.

“It‘s too soon.” She sucks a deep breath through gritted teeth, taking a few steps away and flinging out a hand to lean against the wall while the other makes its way through her hair.

“I’ve only worn it for short stretches of time so far. It holds against distant storms and small flares. But a full one, in my immediate vicinity...” she trails off, her eyes going distant. Seeing into another time. “I can’t get it out of my head, Ash. Even if I—if we—can find a way to make it completely safe, I still have to get over the fear, that memory...“ she shakes her head again, as if that’ll dislodge it. “And that’ll take time. I don’t want to ask you to wait for me.”

“E.J. I have time. And you’re worth waiting for.”

A complicated series of emotions plays out across her face, but then her lips quirk up in a crooked smile.

“In that case, I’m going to go get this thing off my neck and get back to my room. I have something to finish. I recommend you try to get more rest.”

I scrunch my nose at her. “After all this? Absolutely not.”

“Have it your way, then,” she says, turning away from me to head back to her room, pausing halfway to the hall to turn back to me. “Oh, come see me before your planning session tomorrow. I think I’ll have it finished by then.”

“Have what finished?”

“Something to help with your Lore issue for now. Maybe even something I can adapt for all of us, if it works well enough on you.”

“Oh, so I’m going to be your hamster-pig now?” I stick my tongue out between my fangs. “Very nice, E.J.”

“Oh, I know for a fact it’s safe, and I know it works in the short-term. It’s whether or not the effect will weaken with repeated use that we need to find out now.”

“I was just joking,” I say. “Thank you.”

“Go to sleep, Ash.”

“No.”

Sighing, she dismisses this with a toss of her hand before leaving me to myself again.

The moment her door’s closed behind her, I toss myself back down across the couch, twisting around and snatching a pillow up to my face to muffle my shrieks of joy.

There’s a buzzing sound, and Boon dips into view, hovering near my face. “Are you alright? Ashwyn?”

After a moment, I pull the pillow away—face and fabric alike wet with tears. “Better than alright. I’m just channeling my inner fourteen-year-old.” Turning onto my back, I bring the pillow up to my chest and cross my arms over it, cuddling it as I smile up at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand,” says Boon. “But I’m happy for you.”

A few minutes later, I’m on my feet and snatching up the fresh outfit I’d brought up from my room before bed, Mittens peaking up curiously from her blanket-nest at the end of the couch. I’m on the path to saving Leon. On my way to getting E.J. back. For the most part, everything feels hopeful and exciting—even starting my day hours before the sun comes up. But a faint, shadowy memory of the dream I’d woken up from still hovers at the outer edges of my awareness.

~*~

I show up for my planning session early, leaving Mittens with E.J. as her grudging babysitter. The Reaper professor, Rhoric, frowns down at me as he ambles up the hall towards his office, coffee cup in one hand and Companion in the other.

“Good Morning Miss, ah—” he glances down at the screen. “Miss Fleetwood.” Tucking the companion under his arm, he opens the office door and gestures me through. I consider complimenting his outfit—an old-fashioned xos-style suit of cream-colored tunic and flowing pants—but decide against it.

As he settles himself into the disproportionately small chair behind his desk, I try to contain a smile. He’s huge—the kind of man you’d expect would be a Petran or a Shifter. His short, spiky hair is white flecked with black, skin golden olive. As he settles his companion on the desk and flicks on the keyboard projection, he pushes his spectacles up his broad nose.

“So,” he says, after frowning thoughtfully at his screen. “We’re working with a highly experimental type of curriculum here, as you probably know by now—to be adapted as the school grows. For now you have your basic courses everyone takes, then the ones particular to your type. From there, things get more personalized.” He pauses, taking a drink of his coffee. “Once I get the run-down from you of where you want to go with your education, to what ends you want to develop your abilities, I’ll be able to work with the other professors to create the custom course work that’ll occupy the rest of your time.”

I nod along, wishing I’d brought a coffee of my own.

“So, Ms.Fleetwood.” He pauses, poised with his hands above the keyboard of wavering light as he looks back up at me. “Tell me—what do you see yourself doing eight years from now, once you’ve graduated?”

I leave the meeting an hour later with my new schedule logged safely away in Boon’s infallible memory. I’ve got four classes to start with this semester: Umbran History, Umbran Physiology and Dynamics, Reaper Life Basics, and Advanced Sigilcraft. The rest of my time’s to be spent on my tentative specialty—the intersection of Reaperwork and sigilcraft—with regular check-ins and guidance sessions from my professors, of course.

For the first time since all this began, I’m able to actually feel some anticipation at the idea of being a student again. I’ve missed art school, and while this’ll be nothing like it, I’m excited for the new experience.

But until Leon’s safely back and my mother’s adequately dealt with, my heart can’t be entirely in it.

I slow outside the entrance to the kitchen and dining hall, blood running hot as I catch the first hints of Lore’s scent. Damnit. Ducking off to the nearby bathroom, I lean against the stall door and pull a tiny jar out of my coat pocket.

“Hamster-pig time,” I whisper as I unscrew the top and dip my finger into the clear salve. Then I smudge it under my nose, around my nostrils—even in them a bit.

“I wish I’d thought of this when I’d first started having issues handling my own cravings, but it’s got its fair share of downsides,” E.J. had explained before handing it over earlier. “Don’t use it if you expect to need your sense of smell for the next hour or so after. It should wash off with plenty of soap and water, though.”

My skin goes numb where I’ve applied the salve. All scent save its herbal, minty-sweet fragrance is lost to me. It’s surprisingly disconcerting. I hadn’t realized until now how much I’d come to rely on my sense of smell, since becoming an Umbran.

Then, just as I’m getting ready to step out of the stall, the bathroom door swings open and I hear the gentle hum of a hover chair. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the stall—throwing a polite smile in Lore’s direction on my way to the sink but avoiding eye contact. She stays where she is, and I can feel her gaze on me.

“You should have just talked to me about your problem.” Her tone’s casual, conversational—as if we’ve been chatting together all morning.

Finally I turn to face her, drying my hands on my pants before crossing my arms defensively in front of myself—thankful now for my inability to smell. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think we can help each other,” she says, smiling.