“We’ll both stay that way. Tomorrow’s bound to be as demanding as today.”
“Is Riley back, do you think? Maybe I should check.”
“She’ll be back by morning.”
He eased her down, curled her in. And when she drifted off, slipped out to work.
An hour or two, he thought, and he might have something he co
uld use if her vision that morning came calling.
* * *
He spent longer than he’d planned, and calculated he’d squeeze in three hours’ sleep beside her before dawn broke. The power he’d pulled on still tingled along his skin. Perhaps that was why she murmured in her sleep, trembled a little.
Once again he curled her against him, soothing them both until he could drop into sleep with her.
He woke in the dark.
She stood in the moonlight, her body tense and turned toward the doors.
“What is it?”
“They’re coming. Get up, get dressed. We don’t have much time.”
He flicked a hand to bring in more light. Dream-walking, he noted when he saw her eyes. “What’s coming?”
“Her dogs. Ours know it. Can’t you hear them howling? Hurry.” She grabbed her clothes, began to yank them on as he got out of bed. “Where’s my bow?” she demanded.
“Your bow?”
“There it is.” She picked up . . . nothing. Made motions as if slinging a strap over her back. “Hurry, Bran, we have to wake the others.”
“I will.” He tugged on pants. “Stay here. Sasha, wait for me.”
“Hurry.”
“Stay here.” He went out, banged a fist on Sawyer’s door. “Get up!” he called out. “Get the others. Something’s coming.”
He didn’t wait, but turned toward his own room before Sawyer pushed open the door.
“What?”
“I don’t know what.” Bran kept moving. “But get the others, and get armed.”
He took time to grab a shirt, a knife, and several of the vials of the potion he’d just made. He’d planned for them to cure several more hours, but they’d have to do.
When he pushed back into Sasha’s room, she’d pulled on boots, a jacket. Dream-struck still, he thought, but she looked . . . tougher, bolder.
He debated a moment, but when he heard Apollo howl, a long, deep warning, he knew he couldn’t leave her dreaming.
He moved to her, set his hands on her shoulders. “Wake,” he ordered. “Wake now.”
She blinked, jerked back. “What . . .” Apollo howled again, and the call was answered by another. Deeper, more feral.
“Not a dream,” she said.
“Take this.” He took her hand, put the knife in it. “It’s enchanted. Trust it, and yourself. I need you to stay close to me, Sasha.”