Page 66 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

I believed him.

“First, take care of yourself. Second, Esme and I are going to ride together if you don’t make it back in time.”

“Grand plan.”

“Your tux awaits on your gentlemen’s thingy.”

“The valet chair?”

“Yes. That.”

He chuckled. “Still need you to tie the tie.”

“Still need you to be my arm candy.”

“That leaves me speechless. No. Wait. Breathless. It leaves me breathless.”

“Don’t you dare talk about breathlessness when you’re far away. It’s not fair.”

With a soft laugh, he said, “Miss you. See you soon.”

I looked at the clock. Five hours until the ball. I set an alarm using my i-phone that would give me two more hours of merciful napping. That is, if I could find sweet, undisturbed sleep.

I sent Esme a quick text. “Looks like we’re riding together. Romeo and I will pick you up at a quarter past seven.”

I got a thumbs up emoji from Esme then went back to sleep.

My dream began with me riding a white charger bareback through fields of wildflowers. There was a slight feel of cool in the breeze that caressed my face and neck on its way past us. It was glorious. I raced down a grassy hill toward an ocean beach covered in pink rock feeling the powerful moving muscles beneath me. I was queen of the world.

I was suddenly in a dark forest. Still riding, but barely moving. The trees grew closer and closer together. When I checked to see if we could go the other way, I saw that the trees had closed in behind us. Soon my horse was unable to move forward. Trees had enclosed him so that he couldn’t move.

Dismounting with care, I patted the horse to comfort him. I knew nothing about horses, but had seen that in movies enough to know it must be a thing. At the same time, I didn’t believe for an instant that there was a way out of the gruesome trap that, apparently, had been designed for us. My horse and me.

I squeezed through two of the trees and instantly found myself back in a lightless cave, or well, with the floor in constant movement around my bare legs. By this time, I’d had this same dream often enough to know the terror. I tried to wake up, but my body wouldn’t respond. I might’ve heard my dogs whining, but that was probably my imagination.

I sat straight up when the alarm went off, feeling like I’d never had a good tooth brushing. My body was a little sore, and I was more tired than before I napped. It was time to let willpower take over. I pushed myself to get out of bed and go get ready for the community party of the season.

The mirror confirmed that it had not been a good nap. Or a good week for that matter. I was not going to be able to cover the shadows on my face with makeup unless I was willing to go pancake like drag performers.

I ran a deep, hot bath, added two drops of Estee Lauder bath oil and sank down into the muscle-relaxing goodness of a nice soak. Perhaps turning on the jets would work out the soreness I’d brought back from the sleep world.

It was relaxing. So much so that I promptly went back to sleep. My body slipped down further into the water until my head was under, but I didn’t react because the depth of my sleep was beyond my control. In my dreamscape, I was still trapped in darkness, but now I was trapped in dark water.

I couldn’t breathe.

I was choking.

I was dying.

Then I wasn’t. I was in the light of my bathroom, sitting on the ottoman, being wound in towels by Olivia.

I tried to talk but couldn’t get anything but rasp out. After a couple more tries, I managed to ask, “What happened?”

“Your dogs were tearing up the house.” She looked over at the bathroom door. It was almost demolished.

I looked at Fenn and Frey. They were in their magical Irish wolfhound guise staring at me intently.

Olivia continued, “You were underwater and, I think, drowning? I lifted you out of the water and set you here to dry.”

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