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I flipped back the covers and climbed to my feet. “I’ve been tossing and turning in my sleep since before I was old enough to speak. A reassuring pat on the head won’t change anything.”
You would think a goddess of nightmares didn’t endure nightmares of her own. You would be wrong.
On my way to the bathroom, I noticed Ray hovering in the hallway just outside my bedroom door.
“Everything good, Ray?”
“I found something you might be interested in.”
“Like an old coin buried in the yard?”
“No, like a ritual to summon the Givers.”
“Come on in.”
Ray crossed the threshold and glanced around the bedroom. “Would it kill you to put your clothes in the laundry basket instead of on the floor?”
“I was so tired last night; I didn’t even bother to turn on the light.”
Shaking his head, he drifted closer to the bathroom while I brushed my teeth. “You need a conduit.”
I rinsed and spit. “What kind are we talking about? A lightning rod?”
“Water.”
“Well, that’s easy.”
“You also need a direct connection to their world.”
My shoulders drooped. “And that’s less easy.”
“And a bloodless sacrifice.”
“Bloodless is good. What’s the procedure?”
He explained in more detail than was probably necessary, but I listened patiently, nonetheless.
“Thank you, Ray. That’s helpful.”
“Would you like me to research how to find a direct connection to their world? I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”
“Actually, no. I have one in mind.” Although given Goran’s history with the Givers, the vodyanoy wouldn’t like my proposal.
“And you might want to have a word with your houseguest about the state of her room. It’s like she’s channeled all her powers of mayhem into a 13 x 9 space.”
I ran a brush through my hair. “I have bigger concerns at the moment, Ray, but I appreciate you looking after the house.” I motioned for him to leave the room so that I could get dressed. I selected a black sweater, jeans, and boots with full knowledge that Gun would comment on each item. At least everything was clean—except the boots. I’d given up on those long ago.
I hurried to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat. I’d asked Gun to pick me up by nine in the hope that Addison would still be asleep.
No such luck.
Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating my curds and whey. Or oatmeal. Whichever.
“You’re up early,” I said.
“Your friend Tilly woke me up when she left this morning. Her horse is incredibly loud.”
My hand froze over the fruit bowl. “Do yourself a favor and don’t call her that next time you see her. It’s Matilda or, if you’re feeling deferential, Night Mallt.”
