JAMES
“Come on, bright eyes. Talk to me. Tell me what you saw.” Mir lay curled in the middle of our bed, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, the sheet soaked with tears where her cheek rested. I stroked her back and willed her to talk to me, to let me help her carry this burden.
She’d gone months without a single dream. Things had seemed so quiet on the demon-front that we even thought we could leave Desert Peak. Thought we could take a break from The Hallowed. Thought all that crazy stuff was behind us.
We’d had three weeks of awesome in Paris. The flat we’d rented was about two feet by two feet but it was right in the heart of the art district - four blocks from the culinary institute and zero blocks from Miri’s art teacher. It had been perfect. Better than perfect. It had been heaven.
And now this.