Fearsome Dreamer Read Online Free PDF Page A

door, she thought, but was relieved to hear it close firmly. She moved to lean against the nearest countertop, taking a breath and forcing herself around to face him. At least there was something solid at her back.
    â€˜What’s … how can I help you?’ she said.
    Til stood in the doorway, looking around the kitchen. His hair fell over his eyes constantly and he shook it back in an unconscious gesture that made girls sigh.
    Oh Threya, you’re beautiful, thought Rue, her heart fluttering like a dying bird.
    Til looked at her, for just a moment. Then his gaze swept away and back to the floor, and she felt a sudden release, as if he had pinned her with his eyes.
    â€˜I need … something,’ he said at last.
    Rue waited.
    She’d seen Fernie in similar situations. Patience was the key. They had to trust that whatever passed in this room would never be breathed to another living being. It was the relationship all witches offered to those in need of their services, and the first time they entered into it was tough. They had to open themselves to her, to divulge bits of their secret souls in order to get what they required, and that was hard on anyone, to trust. Rue understood that. She also started to understand the power of it. To get a piece of Til’s soul? That would mean a connection between them, some control over him. She suppressed a thrill.
    She watched Til struggle. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she said, pitching her voice to a level she thought sounded soft and kind. ‘I’ll put some tea on, and you tell me what you need. You can take your time.’
    She turned her back on him, busying herself. She thought he watched her and tried to make her movements graceful. She arched her back a little more than usual, swept her hair back over her shoulders with a practised careless gesture. She heard the scrape of wood over stone as he sat down. When he started to talk she let him, concentrating fiercely on preparing the tea.
    â€˜I heard that Fernie deals with other problems than bein’ sick. Soul problems,’ said Til. His lovely voice was hesitant. ‘I didn’t … I didn’t think of coming here. But someone told me she could fix it for me.’
    She turned, pot in hand. ‘Whatever Fernie can do, I can do,’ she said firmly. ‘I may be her prentice but I’m taught everything she knows.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ said Til. ‘I didn’t mean to say nothing of you.’ His huge hands came up and held his head. He looked bereft and broken. Rue felt her heart melt.
    â€˜Go on,’ she said. Her hand shook as she set the pot on the stove. She glared at it.
    â€˜I wouldn’t come here if I weren’t desperate,’ he murmured. ‘Meaning no disrespect. It’s just not … it’s not done to talk out your problems with others. Women do that. They find comfort in it. Men don’t, they fix it themselves. And they find comfort in that.’
    Rue looked at him in frank astonishment. She had never assumed that he could be so perceptive, but chastised herself for that now. Things weren’t always what they seemed. She set the tea on the table before him, wanting to see if he watched her hands as they crossed his line of vision. She took her time sitting, afraid of stumbling or looking clumsy.
    â€˜Please don’t tell no one,’ he said softly, startling her. This close, she could see tiny flaws in his skin, the grime built up on his nose. But it was his downcast eyes that she watched; how she wished and feared they would raise up to her face. He was perfect.
    â€˜I won’t,’ she said. ‘I won’t. Promise. There’s the rules.’
    He sighed gently. She imagined the sigh landing on her neck, like a little moth.
    â€˜I’m sick,’ he said. ‘Sick with love.’
    Rue watched his hand creep around the tea glass, but he didn’t drink. He still would not look