It certainly can't be called a "glamorous" life, but-and I run the risk of sounding way too dramatic when I say this-it's the only life I've got; and frankly, I don't think I'm very well-suited to anything else. I mean, it's sort of in my blood. Some girls go dancing at night. I've never been dancing.
“Sleep sound, love.”
That was the last thing she ever said to me. She whispered it into my hair the night she disappeared—I can still feel the warmth of her palm on my temple. She always walked so softly, careful not to startle her light little sleeper, but the door closed so abruptly that night. So permanently. Had I known what was coming, I never would have slept so soundly, dreamt so sweetly. I wouldn’t have slept at all.
It’s been fourteen years since then, and I’ve had other things on my mind.
Important things. Dangerous things. Things that are born and bred in the dripping shadows of our richest nightmares, things that don’t belong in the solid world. Things that show up anyway.
It certainly can’t be called a “glamorous” life, but—and I run the risk of sounding way too dramatic when I say this—it’s the only life I’ve got; and frankly, I don’t think I’m very well-suited to anything else. I mean, it’s sort of in my blood.
Some girls go dancing at night.
I’ve never been dancing.
My name is Fallon Rhys, and I make the nightmares go away.