Page 205 of Ex Somnis

Across the little circle, Paul is sitting up against the base of the couch with his cup balanced on his knee, his glasses off, making him look younger and somehow more serious at once. He hasn’t touched his tea. He’s watching all of us instead, cataloging the way he does, and when he catches me looking, he gives me the downward smile and mouths, okay?

I nod.

I’m not okay. But I nod.

Nevan’s hand finds mine on the cushion between us without either of us looking. His fingers are warm and too big, and they curl around mine like that’s where they live now. He doesn’t say anything. He’s been quiet since dinner, and I keep wanting to fix it, knowing I can’t.

“Rule two,” I whisper to him.

“That’s still not your hex, Lemon.” But his thumb moves over my knuckles once.

“Fine, rule four then.”

His shoulders come down a fraction before he leans in and kisses my temple. “I love you too.”

On my other side, Ridge has shifted down onto the cushions and arranged himself as if he owns the floor. He has the white pebble in his fist, turning it over and over with his thumb.

He catches me watching and holds it up. “My crystal is better than yours.”

“You sound like Jasper.”

“Take that back.”

My phone buzzes on the floor. Speaking of…

Jasper:

We’re set up here. Derek’s asleep already next to her. It was so fast. The man is RUNNING toward this. Melanie’s down for the night and Nora’s sitting with us. Crystals are placed. We’re ready when you are.

Lenny, you’ve got this. Be the light, I mean it!!!

I type back a thumbs-up because if I type words, I’ll type too many. Then I put the phone face down, which I have decided helps.

“They’re ready,” I say to the room.

“Then so are we.” Seraphine rises from the couch in that boneless way she has, and there’s nothing foggy in it. She’s sharper than I’ve ever seen her. What usually pulls her away from herself seems to let go completely the second there’s dreamwork to do. She crosses to the old record player in the corner, the one I always assumed was decoration, and sets the needle down.

It’s not exactly music. It’s strings or voices or both, a sound that doesn’t seem to start anywhere or go anywhere, but turns and turns like the smoke. It gets under my skin in about four seconds, the hair on my arms lifting.

“What is⁠—”

“Lie back, little dreamer.” She drifts past me and crouches, her cool fingers pressing a final crystal to the center of my chest, right over the moonstone, right over my heart. “Sleep tight.”

The tea is warm in my stomach, the strings are turning, Nevan’s hand is heavy in mine, and Ridge’s breathing has already slowed on my left. The room is getting soft at the corners.

Breathe in.

Tessa’s green eyes.

Breathe out.

The sound of the waves.

Breathe in.

The doors standing in the tide.

Breathe out.