“You have to break through these losses in time. Work with Dalton on your memories. Allow him to get closer. You’re going to need him in this battle.”
How much closer? If the demon part of her wanted Dalton, shouldn’t she keep him as far away as possible?
“I know the question you’re not asking,” Georgie said. She stood and moved toward the sink, put a few dishes away, then turned and crossed her arms, staring down at both of them. “The answer is no. Don’t keep Dalton away from you. Draw him near. He is all that is good within you. You are all that is good within him. But you have to sift through the darkness together to find the light within each other. Search, until you discover it.”
CHAPTER SIX
Isabelle was floating, sinking into a blissful, dark silence. She felt weightless, as if she were sailing on a cloud in the moonless sky, no destination in mind. Nothing in front of her, nothing behind her. She reached out, sensed only misty, cool air surrounding her. She’d never felt more at peace.
Until she landed with a hard thud, jerking her out of her sense of well-being. She moved, but was restricted by walls on each side of her. She tried to find her bearings, but it was so dark she couldn’t see. Where was she?
She couldn’t move. Not an inch on any side.
She was trapped. She raised her arms above her head, but felt nothing. No handhold. The coolness around her evaporated, her sense of air cut off. Something fell on top of her. She inhaled, breathing in dust, dirt as it rained on top of her in a fine, unending mist. It coated her skin, her lungs, as it continued to pour in on her. Despite covering her mouth and nose, she couldn’t hold it back as the downpour of dirt continued, filling up the tiny hole she was trapped in, burying her to her ankles, her knees, her hips, wedging her in this grave.
“Help me!”
No one answered.
“Dalton, help me!”
Dalton didn’t answer. He wasn’t there. She was alone. Panic hammered at her and she began to shake. She clawed at the sides of the hole. More dirt fell in, trapping her arms at her sides. Now she couldn’t cover her mouth and she breathed in dirt. It filled her nostrils, poured into her lungs, choking her. She couldn’t breathe.
Oh, help me. Someone, please.
She was dying, smothering, unable to suck in life-giving oxygen. They were burying her alive and no one would ever find her. She opened her mouth to scream, but the scream was empty, silent, filled with dirt. As consciousness faded, she heard their laughter, their voices. Dark, evil, twisted.
You’re ours, Isabelle. We control you. Your air, your breath. When you die, you will still be ours. You cannot run. You cannot hide. You cannot put us off forever. Your soul belongs to us.
Isabelle shot up in bed, her mouth open, nothing coming out but a panicked rush of air as she fought for breath, fought for the scream that wanted to erupt but couldn’t.
In the half darkness she saw a shape to the side of the bed. Panic rushed at her, her body filling with heat. She pushed away, ready to run.
“Isabelle.”
Dalton’s voice was low, soothing, as he reached for her hand. “Isabelle, it’s me. You’re here, in your bed. You’re all right.”
She couldn’t catch her breath. Sweat drenched her body, her clothes, the sheets around her. She couldn’t speak, fought to control the overwhelming nausea. Dizziness made the room tilt. The dream was still so real, she was caught between it and the darkened bedroom.
“Breathe, honey. Slow and easy. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Dalton’s voice helped. She did as he instructed and the dizziness began to fade. But this time, she kept the dream in the forefront of her mind, refusing to let it disappear. She wanted to remember, even though the thought of it made her throat constrict.
She shivered. “I’m all wet,” she managed, her voice still hoarse. She could still taste dirt in her throat, shuddered at how real it all was.
He smoothed his hand over her hair. “You were sweating. I heard you moaning, came in to check on you. You were thrashing around on the bed. I debated whether to wake you …”
“I’m glad you did. I need to take a shower.” And brush her teeth. And gargle. She had to get the taste of dry earth out of her mouth.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
Yes. No. She didn’t want to be alone, but knew she had to do this by herself. She refused to become dependent on Dalton. “I’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait right here for you.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes.” On shaky legs, she slid off the bed, grabbed some clothes and slipped into the bathroom. She turned on the water and while it warmed up, scoured her teeth and used mouth rinse. Feeling immensely better after that, she hurried through her shower, washing off the sweat coating her body. True to his word, Dalton was still in her room when she came out. In fact, he was making her bed.
“I changed the sheets. They were drenched.”
“Thank you. For that, and for hearing me, for waking me.” She turned her head as a low rumble sounded off in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning.
“Storm’s coming,” Dalton said in reply.
She nodded, shivering as goose bumps prickled her skin.
“Let’s go sit in the living room for a while.”
“What time is it?”
“About four A.M.”
She tossed her damp hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dalton. I don’t sleep much these days.”
“Don’t worry about it. Neither do I. Come on.”
He went into the living room and sat on the sofa. Isabelle hesitated. For some reason she needed the contact of Dalton’s body but felt uncertain asking for it.
Dalton patted the cushion beside him. “Sit with me.”
Relieved, Isabelle curled up next to him and pulled her legs behind her.
“Do you remember the dream?” he asked.
“Yes. This time I forced myself to stay in the here and now, to remember. At first I was floating, like on a cloud or in space. It was wonderful, very freeing. But then I fell, plummeted into a hole or a grave, and dirt came raining down on top of me. I couldn’t crawl out, and more dirt came in, choking me. I couldn’t breathe. I was being buried alive.”
Dalton put his arm around her and drew her closer to him. She didn’t mind that at all, still chilled despite the warmth in the room.
“When it felt like I was dying, I heard their voices.”
“Whose voices?”
“The Sons of Darkness. Tase, the one who was their leader.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about how I belonged to them, and they control everything about me. That even in death, I would be theirs, including my soul. And that’s when you woke me.”
Dalton arched a brow. “That’s pretty intense.”
“Yeah.”
“No wonder you were in bad shape.”
He smoothed his hand down her arm and back up, settling at her nape to massage the tension nestled there. She shivered, but this time it wasn’t from being chilled.
“It’s better now. Thank you for sitting with me.”
He looked down at her. “Are you ready to go back to sleep?”
“No. I’m pretty much done with sleeping for the night.” The thought of closing her eyes again brought about vivid images of being closed in, of dirt pouring on her, of being unable to breathe. She couldn’t sleep anymore. She might not be able to again for a long while. “You can go back to bed if you want to. I’ll be fine out here.”
“So will I.” He shifted so she could slide into the crook of his arm. She felt sheltered there, and he wrapped his arm more securely around her. She drew her knees up to her chest, settled, and finally relaxed. She could almost fall asleep this way, except Dalton kept moving his hand up and down her arm and shoulder, and slid his fingers into her hair to massage her head. The sensations he evoked had her wide awake and wired, her emotions and physical reactions tuned into him completely.