Twist
I’m finally sleeping, dreamless. For the first time in months, some god or primeval has blessed me with repose. I float, untethered. No flashes of pale limbs, no dark eyes, no screams, no siren calls. Just me, in the gloom. I’ve never done anything in my entire too-long life to deserve the relief. But I’m sure I’ll have to pay for it, somehow.
The universe calls in its compensation moments later, when a body flops down on the edge of my bed, launching me back into reality. A hiss slips from between my bared teeth, and I spring. Spinning, I slip my iron dagger from its hiding place beneath my pillow. Twisting my wrist, I lay it against her throat as she bats her green eyes at me, undisturbed.
“Caoimhe,” I growl.
“Is that a knife in your bed or are you just happy to see me?” she as
