And then it happened. My eyes locked with the spider’s—hollow and black, infinitely deep, impossibly dark—and I felt a little tug in the center of my brain, a quick jerk deep inside my head. And then I saw. A barrage of graphic and gory images assaulted my mind, filling it until it overflowed, engulfing me, dragging me down, down, down into the darkness. . . .
I jolted awake, shivering violently, my clothes soaked with sweat. I threw back the covers and lunged from the bed, but my limbs were weak with terror and wouldn’t hold me, and I crumpled to the floor. On my hands and knees, I scurried to the corner of the room and pressed myself into it, my chest heaving with hysterical sobs. I squeezed my eyes shut and put a hand over my mouth, muffling the sound.
Control the fear, Beatrice. . . .
I nodded quickly. Yes. Yes. Control the fear. Had to control the fear. I couldn’t let it take me again. Not like before. I’d never go to that place again.
I took several slow, shaky breaths and muttered aloud the Fibonacci sequence to force my mind away from the remembrance of the horrors I’d experienced that day and focus it on something else. I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to bring my shattered psyche back together, but eventually my pulse slowed to an almost normal rate and my shivering began to subside.
“It’s okay, Trish,” I whispered. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re fine now.”
And a few moments later, I slid up the wall until I was standing and tested my legs to make sure they would carry me back to the bed, but once I was there, I couldn’t bring myself to climb back in. There was really no point. I knew from experience that there was no possibility of getting any sleep once the dream had come.
As quietly as possible, I slipped from the room, glancing down the hall to where Nicky had said his bedroom was. The door was wide open, the room completely dark. The house was still, but I heard no sounds of sleep coming from his room. Curious, I crept down the hall and peeked in. The bed was still made, obviously not having been slept in. I frowned a little, wondering where he might have gone.
Shivering again now, but this time from the sweat-soaked clothes I wore and not from sheer terror, I made my way back to Juliet’s room and managed to locate a luxurious pink bathrobe hanging on the inside of the closet door. I stripped out of the workout clothes down to my panties, then pulled the bathrobe on, tying it loosely around my waist before making my way downstairs. I had to wander down a few halls and recover from a couple of wrong turns that led me to a laundry room and then what appeared to be a game room before I finally managed to find Nicky’s kitchen.
The kitchen was much easier to navigate. I had no trouble locating a saucepan and the supplies I needed to make some hot
chocolate—the final step in my recovery ritual on the nights the dream came. I was just turning off the burner and setting the pan aside to find a coffee mug when a soft shuffle behind me brought me around with a gasp.
My shoulders sagged with relief when I saw that the noise was not from a ghost intent on terrorizing me or a massive spider whose horrifying memories of murdering her victims were going to send me spiraling once more toward insanity. “There you are!” I said with a chuckle. “Where the hell have you been?”
Sasha padded toward me, her answering meow carrying a hint of admonishment.
“Hey,” I shot back, “I’m not the one who ran off. You should’ve stuck around.” She sat down directly in front of me, her tail twitching back and forth lazily, then gave me an expectant look.
With a sigh, I rummaged through the cupboards until I found a small bowl, then poured a little milk into it. “There you go, you spoiled brat,” I muttered with an affectionate grin, squatting down to set it on the floor in front of her. I scratched her ears for a moment while she lapped at the milk, glad to see that she seemed unaffected by our ordeal at the apartment. I was still grinning when I rose to my feet.
“Can’t sleep?”
This time I started with a ridiculously girlie yelp that sent Sasha racing out of the room again. “Damn it!”
“Sorry,” Nicky said from where he leaned nonchalantly against the frame of the kitchen doorway. “Didn’t mean to scare your cat off again.”
“I didn’t even hear you come in,” I said, still breathless. “How long have you been standing there?”
He shrugged and pushed off the door frame. “I came in when I heard pans clattering around in here.”
My brows came together. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged again as he came forward, looking a little unsteady on his feet. It was then I noticed he held the neck of a bottle of Legavulin in his hand. A mostly empty bottle of Legavulin. “Didn’t want to interrupt.” He plunked the bottle down on the counter of the kitchen island. “It’s been a long time since anyone has used this kitchen—kinda nice to see someone here.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s gone unused.” I shook my head a little, frowning in confusion. “The pantry’s fully stocked.”
He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Habit. Juliet loved to cook, so I always made sure she had everything she needed. First thing I did when I got back to town.”
“Was she a good cook?” I asked, noting the shadow of sadness that had passed over his face when he mentioned his dead wife.
He laughed that deep rumble that brought goose bumps to my skin. “No—everything she made tasted like shit.” He lifted the bottle and took a long pull of the amber liquid. “But it was her outlet, especially when she was pissed at me. So I felt I owed it to her to eat it.”
“Well,” I said, “I don’t know that I’m much of a cook either, but I’d be willing to share my hot chocolate with you, if you’d like some.”
His mouth lifted at one corner. “Thanks, doll.”
When I set his mug in front of him, he jerked his chin at it. “So, what’s doin’ with you? You’re practically dead on your feet. Why are you awake already?”
“Nightmare,” I said with a tight smile. “How about you? Why are you awake?”
His answering chuckle was filled with bitterness. “Haven’t been to sleep yet. I have a few nightmares of my own.”
I blew over the edge of my mug and took a tentative sip, then said, “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
This managed to produce a true laugh, dissipating the shadow of sadness in his eyes. “Fair enough.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen door. “Come on.”
He led me into a sunken living room where a fire blazed in the massive hearth, filling the room with soothing warmth and casting it in shadow. I curled up in one corner of the leather sofa, adjusting the edges of Juliet’s robe to cover my knees.
Nicky set his hot chocolate on the coffee table, then dropped down in the opposite corner, the bottle of Scotch propped on his knee. His face wore a dark scowl made darker by the shadows cast by the fire. We sat in silence for several long moments, Nicky lost in his own brooding thoughts as I watched him out of the corner of my eye, wondering if he really had wanted to talk or just needed someone else in the room with him.
I’d polished off the last of the hot chocolate and was just rising to my feet, intent on excusing myself to leave Nicky to his thoughts, when he suddenly said, “So, what’s with all the nightmares? They because of what you saw in that spider’s head?”
I sat back down, curling into myself even more at the mention of those horrifying dreams. “Partly,” I admitted, my mouth going dry. “What I saw there . . . it traumatized me. I mean, I was just a little girl—and a very sheltered, pampered one at that. I didn’t realize any creature could even have such murderous thoughts.”