Mira's POV
"Mira…" The voice pierced my dream. "Mira… wake up…"
I rolled over in my bed, my chest tightening, my sweat breaking out on my skin. The voice didn't stop. It got louder.
"Mira!"
I took a deep breath and sat up, my heart thuddling against my ribcage.
The air around me seemed off.
It was cold, unpleasant and a rough hand on my skin.
And then I saw her. At the foot of my bed.
I stared at her, my breath caught in my throat.
Her dark short hair resting on her shoulders with bright eyes. The dark eyeliner gave her eyes a moon-like sheen in the darkness.
"You did well to get into a home," She breathed.
I sat upright. She was real, wearing a long black gown covering her feet.
One step from her made me scoot back on my bed until the back of my head bumped against the wooden headboard.
"Who are you?" My heart was going crazy, but my voice came out normally. "How did you get into my room?"
Her face contorted to a calm smile, but there was nothing friendly in the smile.
"You really do not know me, Mira Alexander?"
How did she know my name? I watched her suspiciously.
"I know no one," I said fast.
"Pity. What sort of accident had to make you forget your mistress?"
"The doctor says I have amnesia. You need to leave my room. Now. Or I call the guards."
She laughed. "Naive and foolish as usual. Nothing's changed. Perhaps that's why you got in quicker than I expected."
"I don't know who the hell you are. Leave before the…"
She cut the words out of my mouth. "The guards? You would call the dogs to protect you?" Her eyes narrowed. "Don't be silly."
My heart pounded wildly. My instincts were screaming at me that this woman was bad news.
The woman raised her right hand.
Her fingers moved in a sharp, circular motion, and a spark of dark purple light erupted from her palm.
I gasped. "What are you…?"
The woman flicked her wrist, and the spark shot towards me.
I didn't think. My body acted on its own. I put my hand out.
Something covered me, blocking her powers from me. The sound of thunder cracked, roared, and the sparks disappeared into the floor between us.
The force sent me back against the wall, crashing down. My head hit the floor and I groaned.
I rose to my knees slowly. The oppressive silence hung heavy between us.
My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at my hand.
The woman's lips spread into a slow smile.
"Good," she whispered. "You still have your powers. Guess your instincts aren't dead as I thought. Your body remembers the training, even though your mind is a blank slate."
The palm of my hand felt like it was on fire. "What did you just do?" I whispered. "What was that?"
"A test," she said. "And I must say, I am pleased."
"Stay away from me," I whispered, though my voice trembled. "I don't know what you think I am, but I'm not…"
"I am the High Priestess of the White Coven," she interrupted. "And you are a witch, Mira."
I shook my head violently. "No. I don't believe you. Witches are not real."
"And the master of this house isn't a werewolf," she said casually.
A bitter laugh slipped out of my mouth. "This is all a hallucination. It's not real."
"It is your reality," she snapped, and the air around me seemed to thicken with her anger. "You were brought here for a reason. Have you found the demon energy?"
What the fuck was she talking about? Demon?
"I'm a servant in this house," I said quickly. "I don't know of any demon energy."
How long would it take to wake up from this dream? Maybe I have to pinch myself.
My fingers pulled at my skin and I let out a quick grunt.
"Need more convincing, child?"
I watched her walk to the end of the room then stop and stroll back. "I'm not even allowed to leave without the master's orders."
She kept talking. "I'm aware. You're in a werewolf pack."
Her face moved closer to mine. She took two steps forward.
Her face was only inches from mine. Her eyes were ice-cold. Certain, and unmerciful.
"I can sense demon energy here," she whispered. "It seems you hit the jackpot. You must infiltrate Xavier's inner circle. I want you to watch him and discover the demon blood."
"I am not doing that."
"Yes, you will," she declared, her voice dropping to an octave. "And you will remember every single thing that has happened before and now."
A knot was forming in my stomach."Why don't you do it yourself?"
"I left the work to you. You have less than ninety days," she said, as if I had never spoken out loud. "There will be consequences for failing and it will be severe."
I tried to find some doubt in her eyes.
There was none.
"Why should I believe you?" I whispered. "You broke into my room and tried to attack me."
"Because," she whispered, her eyes glowing as she went over the window and her shoulders straightened. "You have no other choice."
A dark smoke formed around her, covering her body. "I'll send someone to help you. An ally. Look for the sign."
I reached out to catch her but…
The door opened.
Maya came in with a stack of folded linens. "Mira? Who are you talking to?"
I turned back around to face the foot of the bed.
She was gone. Nothing to show she had been there was earlier.
My finger was still out, pointing at the place where she had been. "She…she was just there. She had dark hair. She was wearing black. She…"
Maya looked concerned and put the linens down on the chair. "Mira, the door was locked. I think you hit your head hard."
"No, I am sure of it. She was…"
"Mira, I had to use the master key to come in. There is no one there."
My finger dropped to my side. I could still feel the heat from when I deflected her powers. "I… I must have been dreaming. It felt so real."
"Yes, you may," she said softly. "You need to try to get some rest."
She turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway. "Oh, and you're off work. For today. And…probably longer."
I turned to her, shocked. "What? Did he fire me?"
"No. The master ordered it. You're to stay in your quarters. You're free from work. Isn't that fun?"
The jealousy in her voice was evident.
She turned to leave again and stopped at the doorway again. "He looked…angry."
The door closed.
Angry? Did I do anything wrong?
Suddenly, I felt something in my right hand.
I looked down.
There was a dagger in my hand.
Symbols began carving on the silver blade. And somehow, somewhere, I knew what they meant.
"Marfóir Deamhan," I whispered.
The meaning came to me like a memory that was never mine.
My voice cracked, as I translated the words. "Demon Slayer."