The Awakening (The Bryn And Sinjin Series Book 6) by HP Mallory

Author:HP Mallory [Mallory, HP]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vampire Romance, The Bryn And Sinjin Series, Gothic Fiction, Magical Realism, Paranormal & Contemporary Romance, Women's Fiction, Forever Love, Adult Themes, Supernatural Fantasy, Protection & Safety, Life-Changes, Second Chance Reunion, Multicultural & Interspecies Relationships, Romantic Schemes, Dangerous & Deadly, Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Intrigue, Mythical Creatures, Action & Adventure, Violence & Crime Story, SciFi Fantasy Romance, Hearts Desire, Futuristic, Beautiful & Feisty
Publisher: H.P. Mallory
Published: 2019-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Bryn

“Where am I?”

It was the only question on my mind as I woke up from a deep slumber into a heavy, gray fog. I couldn’t see more than two feet in front of me. I turned to my right—just the same dark miasma. I turned to my left—someone seemed to be walking towards me, stretching their arms forward in an attempt to guide their path. The figure drew nearer, and I prepared to defend myself.

“Bryn? Is that you?” asked the figure in a sweet voice I knew well.

“Jolie! Are you okay?” I called out to my sister, who’d somehow also ended up in this strange, fog-covered dreamscape.

“I’m fine,” Jolie responded, finally making her way over to where I stood, still prepared to fight.

“Where are we?” I looked around the dreamscape for any sign that might clue me in. The fog grew thinner, but at a painfully slow rate. Jolie shrugged, indicating she was just as confused as I was. I grabbed her hand and guided us a few steps forward, hoping to move toward anything that would allow us to exit this dream.

We bumped into something that hit me roughly waist-height. It felt like a dining table. The fog had lifted almost entirely at that point, and I was able to determine that we were, in fact, in a dining room. A beautiful silver dining set was laid out on the mahogany table, the chairs were upholstered in the most luxurious purple velvet fabric, and the meal seemed fit for a king.

It was all incredibly familiar, like somewhere I’d been recently but was just a little too sleepy at present to remember fully. And then I heard a voice call out to me: “Bon soir, Mademoiselle Bryn. Is this your lovely sister, Queen Jolie?”

I would have recognized that voice anywhere—Monsieur D. He was sitting in front of us, taking his place at the head of the mahogany table.

He wore a rather old and dusty top hat, made of a dark black material and banded with what looked like alligator teeth. His dark skin sprouted not a single hair, at least not as far as I could tell. His suit was designed well, by nineteenth century standards, and hung loosely on his thin frame. He tapped his black cane on the ground to get our attention, holding its silver handle tightly in his hand.

“Monsieur D?” I asked, frowning.

“Mademoiselles, do take a seat,” he said, speaking in a thick French accent and wearing a grin I could only describe as a “killer’s smile.”

Monsieur D was fae and completely untrustworthy. And the fact that he’d dragged Jolie and me into this dreamscape wasn’t exactly good news. Why? Because we’d lost our home-field advantage. This was his turf and, as such, he could—and would—call the shots.

“Where are we, Bryn?” Jolie asked, and I could hear the worry in her voice.

I glanced around and started to recognize the place.

“We’re in a dreamscape version of House Gedde—the home of Monsieur D, who happens to be sitting in front of us.

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