burn victimâs state and the wild-eyed madman bursting into the room. Rachel had a very clear memory ofhis ax slamming into her. Yet now she was feeling no pain.
She wanted to believe her feeling of health was because sheâd been given some excellent drugs, but she also recalled waking up earlier, meeting the handsome blond man with silver eyes. Etienne. He was the same man who had haunted her dreams while sheâd been sick the week before the ax attack. She distinctly recalled waking up and him claiming to be a vampire, then showing her his extendible teeth. Which should only convince her that all her memories were nothing more than a dream. There were no such things as vampires, after all.
Rachel shifted cautiously where she lay, mentally prepared for a burst of pain to rip through her chest from the wound sheâd sustained, but there was none. The hospital had obviously given her some pretty strong drugs. No doubt those drugs were leaving her confused as well as warding off the pain she should feel.
Amazing drugs, Rachel decided. She hadnât felt this strong or healthy in years. At least, not since sheâd started working the night shift.
Moving carefully to avoid disrupting the IV she could feel trailing out of her arm, Rachel sat up and blinked several times, trying to bring the surrounding dark shapes into better focus. The room seemed large in the blackness, much larger than a hospital room should be.
Rachel was frowning over this when she realized that, from the shadows and shapes she could make out in the darkness, the room very much resembled the bedroom from her dream. A light had been on then, revealing a draped bed and blue decor. She recalled creeping down through an empty house to a basement where that silver-eyed man had risen from a coffin.
Definitely a dream, she decided.
Unable to see herself in the darkness, Rachel ran her hands over her upper body. She wore no clothes, and there was no sign of injuryâjust as it had been in her dream. Had she been hurt at all? What was dream and what was reality?
âOh, jeez.â Feeling a little panicked, Rachel thrust the blankets aside, hardly noticing as the IV tore from her arm. She paused long enough to feel around for the bedsheet, which she had been lying on top of rather than under. Pulling it from the bed, she fashioned it around herself toga style. Again? She was suffering a definite sense of déjà vu.
Donât even think like that, Rachel ordered herself firmly, suddenly desperate to find someone, anyone, to verify what had happened. She had a vague recollection of the setup of the room, but since she had already decided it was a dream she remembered, she couldnât go by it. Instead, she crept along the bed toward the wall it should back onto, arms extended.Once she felt the wall, Rachel eased her way carefully along it in search of a door.
The first thing she found was a piece of furniture. Actually her knee found itâwith a crack to her shins. Rachel paused to rub her aching leg before she felt the outline of the item was a chair.
âNice place for it,â she muttered irritably, then forced herself to pause and take a deep breath. She should have turned on the bedside lamp. But, then, she hadnât felt one, or even a bedside table. Of course, her arms had been extended and sheâd probably missed it because of that. Every room had bedside tables, didnât they?
Rachel briefly considered returning the way sheâd come, but it seemed an awfully long way back. In the end she decided to keep going and eased around the chair to continue forward. Her breath caught at the sudden feel of wood beneath her fingers. Then she found a doorknob and quickly turned it. She thrust the door open. Black yawned before her, more absolute than that of the room in which she stood. After a hesitation, Rachel felt along the wall until she found a switch. She flicked it on.
Light exploded from overhead,
She wanted to believe her feeling of health was because sheâd been given some excellent drugs, but she also recalled waking up earlier, meeting the handsome blond man with silver eyes. Etienne. He was the same man who had haunted her dreams while sheâd been sick the week before the ax attack. She distinctly recalled waking up and him claiming to be a vampire, then showing her his extendible teeth. Which should only convince her that all her memories were nothing more than a dream. There were no such things as vampires, after all.
Rachel shifted cautiously where she lay, mentally prepared for a burst of pain to rip through her chest from the wound sheâd sustained, but there was none. The hospital had obviously given her some pretty strong drugs. No doubt those drugs were leaving her confused as well as warding off the pain she should feel.
Amazing drugs, Rachel decided. She hadnât felt this strong or healthy in years. At least, not since sheâd started working the night shift.
Moving carefully to avoid disrupting the IV she could feel trailing out of her arm, Rachel sat up and blinked several times, trying to bring the surrounding dark shapes into better focus. The room seemed large in the blackness, much larger than a hospital room should be.
Rachel was frowning over this when she realized that, from the shadows and shapes she could make out in the darkness, the room very much resembled the bedroom from her dream. A light had been on then, revealing a draped bed and blue decor. She recalled creeping down through an empty house to a basement where that silver-eyed man had risen from a coffin.
Definitely a dream, she decided.
Unable to see herself in the darkness, Rachel ran her hands over her upper body. She wore no clothes, and there was no sign of injuryâjust as it had been in her dream. Had she been hurt at all? What was dream and what was reality?
âOh, jeez.â Feeling a little panicked, Rachel thrust the blankets aside, hardly noticing as the IV tore from her arm. She paused long enough to feel around for the bedsheet, which she had been lying on top of rather than under. Pulling it from the bed, she fashioned it around herself toga style. Again? She was suffering a definite sense of déjà vu.
Donât even think like that, Rachel ordered herself firmly, suddenly desperate to find someone, anyone, to verify what had happened. She had a vague recollection of the setup of the room, but since she had already decided it was a dream she remembered, she couldnât go by it. Instead, she crept along the bed toward the wall it should back onto, arms extended.Once she felt the wall, Rachel eased her way carefully along it in search of a door.
The first thing she found was a piece of furniture. Actually her knee found itâwith a crack to her shins. Rachel paused to rub her aching leg before she felt the outline of the item was a chair.
âNice place for it,â she muttered irritably, then forced herself to pause and take a deep breath. She should have turned on the bedside lamp. But, then, she hadnât felt one, or even a bedside table. Of course, her arms had been extended and sheâd probably missed it because of that. Every room had bedside tables, didnât they?
Rachel briefly considered returning the way sheâd come, but it seemed an awfully long way back. In the end she decided to keep going and eased around the chair to continue forward. Her breath caught at the sudden feel of wood beneath her fingers. Then she found a doorknob and quickly turned it. She thrust the door open. Black yawned before her, more absolute than that of the room in which she stood. After a hesitation, Rachel felt along the wall until she found a switch. She flicked it on.
Light exploded from overhead,
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