Dante spotted his unopened letter the moment he stepped back into the apartment. His heart rate picked up, and he rushed for it, desperate to see who it was from and what they had to say. Desperate to find out before Phineas got home. Because after all this time to consider, he knew there was only one group it could be from.

As the front door clicked closed behind him, he ripped the top of the envelope and pulled the enclosed letter out, flicking it open.

“Dear Durante “Dante Reich’ler” Reich.”

He re-read this line five times, as if checking ever word to make sure they were real. They’d even included his nicknames. Both of them. First and last. He wasn’t sure if this made him excited or nervous. He couldn’t debate about it, though. The answer lay right under these words. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to see it.

“We have reviewed your application to join the courts at the High Council of Witches in New Toulouse and were very impressed by what we saw. You would make a fantastic addition to any number of our faculties, and we would be so lucky as to have you. Unfortunately, due to the nature of you illness, we cannot see ourselves able to make a long term investment in your cause, and regrettably decline your application. We wish you all the best in future endeavours and expect great things from you in the near future. Yours, The High Council.”

Dante’s heart sunk as he fell into his chair, rereading the letter over and over as if the words might change. They knew how powerful he was. They respected that, at least. But then. But then, no, because he was sick. You are powerful, but too bad, because you’re sick. He wasn’t even that sick. Being sick had yet to affect his magic. But no. They “regrettably decline” him. Regrettably. Like they wished they could take him. Like they wished his illness didn’t mean he was going to die. They were all going to die. Why the hell did that change anything?

After a minute of the letter hanging in front of him, he couldn’t help but notice heat emanating from it. It took him a moment to snap out of his trance and realize the paper was on fire. He wasn’t surprised; the fire had come from somewhere in his sub-conscience. He let it burn the paper then waved the flames back into non-existence. When he’d finally erased the words from his mind, he stood up and made his way to the back of the apartment. Back to his room.

No matter how many pills he took, or what kind of magic he worked before going to bed, Dante always had nightmares. They were always similar, though slightly different each night. Tonight, he was half blind and encased in fire. There was water all around him, so he dove into it, trying furiously to see where he was going. Fire burned along the water’s surface, and no matter where he tried to catch a breath, fire consumed him. He knew there was an opening somewhere, but he couldn’t get his eyes to open enough, couldn’t get them to work. When he did, he saw a face. It smiled at him and breathed fire.

His heart, thinking he was dying, woke himself up.

He could heart raced, but his arms and legs were paralyzed still trying to wake up. He kept his eyes closed, trying to settle his heart with deep breaths. He was just calming down when he heard a voice.

“Brace yourself,” it said in a low, dark hiss. “Winter is coming.”

He didn’t have enough time to process what was said, let alone the voice that said it. Suddenly, the bed jumped up and cold hands covered his bare skin. Dante bolted upright, screaming.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Phineas!”

Phineas sat on top of him, his hands extended to Dante’s chest, a wild smile on his face, his eyes half crazed. Dante shoved him off, sending him rolling to the floor, laughing. Dante growled and pulled the covers up to his shoulders.

“You’re colder than death,” he said, not lifting his voice more than necessary as he turned back into his pillows.

“Like I said,” Phin smiled, looking up at him from the floor. “Winter is coming.”

“I don’t need to be reminded.”

“But you do need to be woken.”

Dante turned over and looked to his window, keeping one eye closed. “The sun’s not even up yet.”

“See,” Phin said, jumping back onto Dante’s bed, though he kept his frigid hands to himself. “We’ll never get to hang out if you keep up that attitude.”

“You just need to find a way to go out in sunlight,” Dante said, mumbling the words as sleep crept back into his eyes.

“You should be asking your customers about that,” Phin said. “I mean, if it is possible, which you claim but have never proven, then someone must know. And don’t even tell me you do ask, because I know you don’t.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to keep the world safe while I still can.”

Phin snorted. “Oh please. Like I’d hunt in daylight. But I get so damn bored stuck up in here all day.”

“Why don’t you ask your customers?” Dante said, cursing under his breath for Phin to go away and let him sleep the few minutes that were left of the night. “You get all kinds, too.”

“Yeah, but they’re all high out of their mind. They can hardly remember their names sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Most times. Anyway, I can see you don’t want me here, so I’ll leave you sleep or whatever.”

“Thank you.”

“Just call if you need me.”

“I’d extend you the same offer, but you’d abuse it.”

Dante looked at Phin, who just smiled. Because he knew it was true. Phin nodded one last time, hesitating just a moment as if to see if Dante wouldn’t call him back. Dante just turned over and, after a moment, the door closed.

It was another twenty minutes lying in bed before Dante finally decided he wasn’t getting to sleep. He was tired enough to do it, and still dazed enough. But he felt an aching, one that started in his guts, moved through his blood and settled in his lungs. He tried to ignore it until he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled the covers off himself and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He found some pants and pulled them on before heading out the door.

Phin stretched across the couch, throwing popcorn into his mouth as he watched Good Morning, America or another such talk show Dante didn’t care for. He doubted Phin cared much for it either. But everything else was, undoubtedly, reruns.

“Thought you were going back to bed,” Phin said as Dante sat down in the recliner and pulled out his phone.

“Thought I was, too,” Dante said, his voice hoarse from the phlegm in his lungs. He coughed it out as he opened the internet on his blackberry, making his way to craigslist.

“Oh,” Phin said. “Did you need-”

“I’m fine,” Dante said, still trying to clear his throat.

“I mean, I’ve got-”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice now clear. He thumbed through the website, all too aware of Phineas’s eyes on him. Dante ignored him because he didn’t want to talk about why his voice was hoarse and why his chest felt tight. He knew he was paler than usual, too. But he didn’t want to talk about it, so he continued to thumb through craigslist.

It took him a minute of looking at apartment listings before he realized he had new messages. He paused a moment, not sure if he wanted to listen to them. Deciding it would be a good excuse to ignore Phin’s pestering until he forgot about it, Dante pulled the phone to his ear.

“Who is it?” Phin asked, pulling himself up on the couch, suddenly very interested. Dante glared at him until he understood to shut up. Phin sighed and waited.

Three new messages. Three new messages all mentioning having heard about what he did for the twins. Three new messages all asking him to help them out, too. All in one night, while he slept.

“Well, hell.”

“Who was it?”

Dante pulled the phone away from his ear, trying to decide what to do. “Customers,” he said. “I guess.”

“Plural?”

“Guess so.”

Phin smiled, though there was something hesitant about it. “Looks like I didn’t scare them off. You’re gonna be busy, kid.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Next Chapter: Gwen