The Night Curse (Book one)

Rain hits my face, cold and soothing.

I want it to strike my skin with a torrent of needles. To dig into my flesh like talons on the hide of a beast. I need to feel anything but this. Anything to lessen the pain. For the smatter of rain is too soft, too peaceful for my rage. The water falling from the sky cannot extinguish the fire in my lungs, or the flames in my body. I want to roar with frustration. I want to let my hot, fiery breath obliterate the estate and leave nothing but charred ash—a smouldering garden, as barren as my heart. For my life is a wasteland, as far-reaching as the vast horizon.

Harlow is gone.

Harlow is to be sentenced to death.

Because of a Dreamwalker… because of me.

“Amelia,” a shrieking voice calls behind me. “Amelia, what are you doing?”

The rain merges with my tears like the gossamer membrane on my skin. Only wrinkles and folds hint at where my body begins and my dress finishes.

“Amelia, you’re soaking wet.”

Through drenched lashes, I see her. My mother. Her arms embrace me and pull me ashore.

“You’re shivering, my love. Let’s get you inside.”

The door closes, and the sound of rain is heard no more. Only her voice, coaxing me like she did when I was a child.

“Come on now. Let’s take you to bed.”

She practically carries me up the spiral staircase. The drip of my gown is like breadcrumbs from a storybook. She lays me in front of the fireplace. The warmth kisses my skin, releasing a fresh tremble from my muscles. She peels the tulle off my flesh, and I am as naked as the day I was born. She drapes me with blankets and takes a hairbrush through my tangled tresses. I close my eyes, lost to the feel of her attention, her comfort.

“Amelia.”

The way she says my name breaks my already shattered heart.

“Amelia, darling. Talk to me. Why were you out in the rain? Why are you crying?”

I’ve nothing to lose, not anymore. “Your daughter is in love.”

“Clemmy… and Elliot… does that make you upset?”

I shake my head, stilling her hand. “No. I am in love.”

Silence and then, “But with whom?”

“Harlow.”

“Where do I know that name… Harlow Elmworth? Mr Elworth, the groundsman.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “And he knows that I am a Dreamwalker. He knows and he and I… I don’t know what we were, but for knowing me and helping his brother who was kidnapped by Dreamwalkers… he’s now imprisoned. And will likely be killed.”

“Oh, Mia.”

“The only person that I ever had the slightest chance with is gone. Clemmy will be gone. And gone with a man that I do not trust. A man that I fear has something to do with why Harlow is in prison.”

“Why would you think that?”

“This symbol keeps popping up, Mother. This eye that Clemmy says the Marquess wears…so did Harlow’s brother, and Mr Fletcher. It’s like they are all working for the same cause and this eye is their branding. I feel it in my bones…this eye is a warning to my kind.”

“An eye, you say?”

“Yes.” I whip my head to hers. “Have you seen it too?”

“I think so, wait here.”

She leaves my room and returns minutes later with a book in her hand. It’s bound in a familiar tarnished leather.

“This is Hyacinth’s final diary.” She passes it to me. I run my fingers over the creases, treasuring the texture and the traces of my grandmother. “I’ve been avoiding giving it to you. Everything before was so full of life and hope for Dreamwalkers. It was the version of Hyacinth that I wanted you to know. I hoped that it would help, somehow.”

I lift the diary in the air. “And this?”

Mother turns her gaze to the floor. “There are things that I wanted to shield you from, but I feel that I cannot do that anymore. You need to know the full truth about your ancestor. I hope it gives you the answers that you need.”

She stands, clutching the sides of her dress, then motions for the door. “I know that I am not a Dreamwalker, Amelia, but I am your mother, and all I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I’m sorry if I made the wrong decisions.” She opens the door and leaves.

I finally tear my gaze from the door, open the diary and begin to read.

1843, March 11th

Amelia Mary Harling was born today.

She is absolute perfection, except that she takes after me.

Amelia is a Dreamwalker, and I haven’t stopped crying.

This world is worse than I’ve ever known. There are people now dedicated to hunting us down, known only by the marks that they leave behind. An eye, carved into flesh. I see that eye every time that I look into Amelia’s lilac stare. Eyes that have yet to see hate and suffering. Eyes still full of wonder and innocence.

We are at war. This I know, and if my granddaughter has any hope of surviving this life then I must join them. I need to stand up and fight for what I believe in. Even if I don’t get to see her grow into the beautiful woman that I know she’ll become. It won’t matter. Not if I can give her this gift. The gift of equality. The gift of peace.

I flip the empty pages. There are no further entries. Hyacinth would have been sixty. Sixty and dead. She died for me, and for what? Clearly, the Dreamwalkers did not win, for nothing has changed.

This organisation, with a mocking eye, is killing Dreamwalkers and has been for years. I must warn Clemmy, and then… I must do something. No one else is going to die for me. There must be a way to defeat them.

I lunge for my desk drawer and take out the shining pendant.

I may have a way to the Dreamwalker hunters after all.

Austin doesn’t look like Harlow. He’s broader and meaner. His features are less sharp and defined. His hair is lighter and curlier. But there is a small resemblance to their mannerisms.

Austin is knelt by a grave, and I try not to shake him when I place my palm around his shoulder.

“It’s you again,” he says.

I see the name on the gravestone. Evelyn Penelope Elworth.

“Austin, I’m Amelia. Harlow’s friend.”

He scowls. “Friend? You’re no friend of my brother’s.”

“I was the one that led him to you. Without me, you’d never have escaped.”

Austin’s face crumples with disgust. “You think that you helped? It’s because of you that my poor brother is locked away in a prison cell, death at his heels.”

His words claw at me like nails. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Truly, I just wanted to help.”

“And why would a Dreamwalker want to help a human?”

“Harlow and I, we are in love.”

“Love?” he scolds with biting force. “And has my brother told you as much?”

“Well, no, not exactly, but he does. He risked everything for me. If that does not speak of love then I don’t know what does.”

An unsettling grin forms on Austin’s face. “I think my brother may have deceived you.”

He’s walking towards me, forcing me to step backwards. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?” I shout.

“Harlow and I are Dreamwalker killers.”

I glare into his unblinking black pits. “You’re lying. Harlow wouldn’t do that.”

Austin points to the gravestone, his finger like a trident’s spear. “I’m afraid he would, because scum like you murdered our mother.”

I shake my head profusely, squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears. I can change this dream. I can change Austin’s memories, but I can’t change reality. “Why would Harlow kiss me if he hates me so much? If he wants me dead?”

A laugh ripples from his mouth. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s been using you. The only reason he was working at The Harling Manor at all was to find you. And you fell right into his trap. He was on a job alright, just not the one that you thought.”

I’m hyperventilating. No, no, no. It’s worse than killing me. He fooled me.

Austin tuts disapprovingly. “And still you haven’t learnt your lesson. You can’t trust a Dreamwalker Hunter, Amelia. I guess I’m going to have to show you that the hard way.”

Before I could slice my hand and wipe his memory, Austin wakes, and in turn, I too bolt into consciousness. Shuddering, not from the cold, but from the threat and the truth slowly blocking off my windpipe.