42. Owen

Chapter forty-two

Owen

N ightmares filled my head as I slept. I was a horse running in the dark, and something was chasing me. Something behind me. I ran as fast as I could, and then I was ensnared in a trap, my legs tangled, and I was falling to the earth.

I was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to scream for help. Then I looked up and into the face of Eric Strange. His face was grotesquely warped, and there was madness in his eyes. He drew a knife, the scary curved ones like you see in old movies about Alexander the Great. He rose into the air and laughed maniacally as he brought the knife down, ending my life.

I woke with a start and eyed the space, terrified. Where was I? Finally, it came to me, I was home, back in my old bedroom. I wandered down to the kitchen, where Chloe was waiting to go outside.

"Okay, girl, give me just a moment," I said, grabbing my phone before letting the little dog out to do her business .

I checked my phone and saw I had a message from Mom.

Her: Eric shouldn't have been in my house. No one should've. I'm calling him now. Don't let him back in.

The dream came back to me, the horse running and getting trapped, only to be slaughtered by the creepy-looking Eric Strange.

I shuddered at the thought and was happy when Chloe darted back into the house, begging for her evening treat.

If I'd learned one thing living with witches and wizards it was that you don't ignore dreams, especially when they were as vivid as that.

I dialed Cary, and when he didn't answer, I left a message. "Hey, Cary, um, I had a weird dream. I was a horse running through a forest and got tangled in a snare. My ex was there and ended up killing me. I know that sounds weird, but you know, magic and stuff, it seemed important. Oh, and by the way, that boyfriend was here at my mom's house when I got home. Mom said he shouldn't have been here, so that could be what was behind it. Just thought I'd better be safe than sorry."

I hung up, and not knowing what else to do, I grabbed some of my mom's sage from her spice cabinet and started a fire in the fireplace. I tossed the sage in front of the logs, knowing at least some of the smoke would come into the room.

Maybe that would help me chase off the negative thoughts, if not the entities themselves. I was afraid. I knew I probably shouldn't be. Eric was creepy, and being in Mom's house was freaky in every sense of the word, but he wasn't magical. At least, I didn't think he was. I pondered calling out to the witches assigned to be with me but figured I was being paranoid. I'd learned there was magic in the world and now I was seeing it everywhere.

Mom had probably told him I was coming home, and he wanted to gloat. Regardless, he'd freaked me out enough that I'd had that dream. "Ugh," I told the room and scooped Chloe up. After checking to make sure all the doors were locked, I went back upstairs and drew a nice bath in Mom's jacuzzi tub. I needed a little relaxation, especially after that dream.

Chloe went to her bed next to Mom's, and I climbed into the tub, letting the bubbles and jets relax my nerves. I couldn't help but compare Eric to Damian. Damian was so sweet, so loving.

Yeah, I'd only known him briefly, and truth was, I had misjudged Eric back then, assuming he was a good guy. But I have to admit, I knew he wasn't. Now, I could admit to myself, as I lay in the tub staring at the ceiling, that I had known Eric was a player.

I had been a lonely little gay boy in the middle of nowhere, Illinois. When Eric showed interest, it made me happy. It sorta gave me validation. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, though, and now I knew him for what he was. Now, I had come to terms with it .

Damian wasn't anything like Eric. I could say that without feeling concerned that I'd missed something. Although it didn't matter, Damian was through with me. I know he said he wasn't, but if he wanted me, like I will admit I wanted him, he'd have fought, right?

"I could've fought for him too," I said to the bathroom and laughed. "I need to fight for him."

The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd just given up and walked out, feeling sorry for myself instead of fighting for him, fighting for my life. A life I loved even if I'd only had a short time to accept how much I'd loved it.

I got up, dried off, and pulled my sweatpants and shirt on. Mom's old house was always drafty, so I also pulled on a pair of thick socks I kept in my top drawer. It wasn't something I'd want anyone to ever see me in. I always thought I looked like a giant gray turd in my sweats, but damn it, Illinois was fucking cold in the winter.

I chuckled as I went to my bedroom and checked my phone. No call or text from Cary. Hopefully, that meant he wasn't on a hot date or something. I shook off the feeling that something wasn't right. I'd clearly spent too much time in the care of the magical. I was letting it get the better of me.

Hell, I'd grown up in this house and this town. The witches that'd come to get me were ancient. There was clearly no threat here, just as I'd assumed there wouldn't be .

I put my phone on the charger and walked downstairs right into a trap, like the one I'd visualized a couple of hours before in my dream.