A Dream of Death and Magic by Sarina Langer

Author:Sarina Langer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarina Langer
Published: 2022-09-24T00:00:00+00:00

I’ve always been drawn to graveyards. There’s a quiet peace about them, a serene hush I’ve always adored. When I was younger, I thought that dark magics happened in graveyards, and since I desperately wanted all kinds of magic to be real, I loved graveyards for the possibility. As I grew older, I imagined that ghosts came out at night and got together to talk, make new ghost friends, and otherwise kill time. I smile to myself. Kill time—it’s funny ’cause they’re dead.

No one lies buried in my dream graveyard. These graves are here simply because I want them to be. I’ve wondered a few times if all the fears I’ve faced and defeated over the years are buried here, or perhaps versions of the Esta I used to be, but as far as I can tell, it’s only ever been me and Mischief and that wonderful silence.

Tonight, I hoped for some of that quiet peace, but it’s not enough to make sense of my confusion. I place my hand on a cool tombstone, but it doesn’t ground me. I feel strangely watched, like I’m not the only one here. I look down and Mischief squints up at me from the grey grass; muting the colours feels right here.

She straightens like she’s putting on her professional parent hat. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘No.’ I sigh. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I mean, a vampire, Esta. Really?’

I frown at her. Not everyone has the chance to reason through something with their own unconscious. Maybe I should take the chance—in fact, I most definitely should. Mischief is giving me attitude, but only because I’m giving myself attitude. If I weren’t confused about how on earth I developed feelings for Leverett, she wouldn’t be, either.

‘Yes, I’m aware,’ I say.

But I don’t understand. When did this happen? While Leverett was talking about how he’s slowly starving himself? When he mentioned the witch hunts he had to hide from? I slam my fist into the tree trunk and immediately stroke over it in apology afterwards. It’s not the tree’s fault. The tree has been nothing but good to me and deserves better.

I sit down at the roots, and Mischief jumps onto my lap.

‘Is this why we’re in a graveyard?’ Mischief asks. ‘Is he here?’

I frown at her and roll my eyes. ‘No, that’s not why we’re in a graveyard.’ Or is it? Damn, I don’t know anymore. Leverett did mention that he stayed in some catacombs for a while. Is that why my mind decided this was the right place? I pout at myself, at my mind, Mischief, this whole situation, and say, ‘We’re here because it’s relaxing.’

‘Uh-huh. Do you think he’s handsome?’

I never thought I’d have this kind of talk with my dream guide, but why not? If it saves me the brain power while I’m awake…

‘Yes.’

My parents would tell me that he’s too old for me, but his age seems irrelevant since he’s a vampire—he was never going to be my age, was he?

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