Patrick smiled. “All right, then. I regret that you missed out on that, but I’ll accept that any regret is mine alone. Back to the point. I’m sure you dream, Liv. If they aren’t replays of memory, what are they?”

“Sometimes fantasy, like my brain amusing itself by telling stories. Sometimes working through problems. Sometimes dealing with anxiety.” I looked at Gabriel. “Believe me, you aren’t missing anything with those.”

“That is where the sluagh come in,” Patrick said. “Their world is that of nightmare and anxiety and fear and all those things you repress in the daytime. When we say sluagh can hurt you in visions, we mean visions that are like dreams, the sort you had earlier today. The reenactments you get from my lore books are a whole different thing. Those are dead memories, with no way for the sluagh to get in.”

“Can I accompany her?” Gabriel asked.

Patrick looked over in surprise.

“Yes, I’ve refused before,” Gabriel said. “But this time…” He paused, and then pushed on. “I would feel better going with her.”

“I won’t guarantee it will work, but you can certainly try.”

I opened the book. Gabriel moved closer, and I took his hand. Patrick flipped to the right page, and I began to translate aloud for Gabriel’s sake.

“Meditations on the nature of the sidhe known as the sluagh. The sluagh—also called the darkness or the unforgiven—should not even be termed fae, but rather spirits. Dark and twisted spirits. It is said that they share a mission with the Cŵn Annwn, that the Huntsmen are tasked with claiming the souls of those who’ve wronged the fae, while the sluagh do the same for those who’ve wronged humans. That is an egregious misunderstanding, and any fae who indulges in it ought to be corrected before further spreading false information. The Cŵn Annwn send souls to the Otherworld. The punishment, then, is not one of eternal damnation—as the Christians have willfully misinterpreted—but the premature end of mortal life. On rare occasions, the Cŵn Annwn will allow the sluagh to take a soul instead, but only if the crime is so great that it warrants extreme punishment, because the sluagh devour both body and soul. Any remaining consciousness is trapped in the melltithiwyd, doomed to serve the sluagh. In some cases, as when the Cŵn Annwn allow the sluagh to take their prey, it is a fitting and just punishment for a terrible crime…”

The words began to swim, and I clutched Gabriel’s hand tighter. The ink parted, words falling through, me falling with them, tumbling through space until I landed in the forest.

I looked around for Gabriel. There was no sign of him.

“Damn it,” I muttered.