Black Spring

His eyes changed, bled from jewel-bright blue to red as I clawed at his hands, kicking my feet in attempt to get away from his killing touch.

Madeline!

Someone was calling me, but I couldn’t tell who it was. My hearing seemed to be fading in and out. Nathaniel’s eyes were disappearing beneath the splotches of black on my vision.

Madeline!

Hands on my shoulders, someone shaking me roughly. A stinging slap across my face, and I opened my eyes, and saw Nathaniel.

I moved without thinking, jerking away from him.

He moved toward me, and I scooted farther away. His eyes were hurt and confused.

“Madeline?”

I put my hand to my throat, which felt sore and bruised. “You were choking me.”

He shook his head. “It was not me. But you were being choked. I could see the shape of hands around your neck as you slept. That is why I woke you.”

It was hard to shake off the sense that Nathaniel was lying to me. It had seemed so real, like the kind of conversation we would have together. Was that the intention? Not to kill me, but to plant a seed of suspicion against someone I trusted?

“It must have been the shifter again,” I said, struggling to rise to my feet. “It wasn’t able to break through the protection I put around the house, but when I fell asleep I was vulnerable and it found a way in. It was a dream, but it seems that if it tries to kill me there, then it will kill me here.”

Nathaniel held out his hand to me, and I took it with some reluctance. It was a mark of the fragility of our relationship that I could believe so easily that he would try to strangle me. I was a little angry with myself about it.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to push away the lingering unease.

“Much better, thanks to Samiel. But do not concern yourself with my health. I have been up and about for several hours. I am much more worried about the notion that the shifter can reach you when you are asleep and hurt you through your dreams,” Nathaniel said as he led me to the dining room. Jude, Samiel and Beezle sat around the table eating waffles and bacon.

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger has nothing on this guy,” I muttered.

“Who?” Nathaniel asked.

“Nobody,” I said. “Just a horror movie character.”

Beezle snorted. “A horror movie character who scared the bejesus out of you until you were about fifteen years old.”

“Apparently I was right to be terrified, because the shifter just tried to kill me in my sleep,” I said as I took my seat at the table. “And how is it that there are waffles and bacon? Wasn’t I lying on the floor in the kitchen?”

“We just stepped around you,” Beezle said. “Some of us were hungry, and we didn’t know if you were going to lie there all day.”

“I was trying to protect the people in the house,” I said. “I wasn’t taking a nap.”

“From what I can hear, you were taking a nap,” Beezle said. “Since Freddy was trying to get you and all of that.”

“Have I survived so many murder attempts that you just don’t care anymore?” I asked.

“It is kind of getting old. But I much prefer live Maddy to dead Maddy,” he added hastily as Nathaniel glared at him. “So what’s up with the shifter? Is he still trying to get in?”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t feel him anymore. I think the attempt to get into the dream was a last-ditch effort.”

“The shifter has endless power at its disposal, and it obviously is out to get you,” Jude said. “So why would it leave?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps its master called it away.”

“We will have to design a better form of protection for your home,” Nathaniel said. “One that does not require so much effort and difficulty on your part.”

“Yes, and allows us to get in and out of the house when the creature is nearby,” Jude said. “It doesn’t sit well with me, cowering inside while it runs unfettered outside.”

“Where is Daharan?” I said. “It’s not like him to stay away so long.”

“There was no sign of him downstairs in the apartment,” Nathaniel said. “And I should emphasize no sign.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning there is not one stick of furniture, article of clothing, or morsel of food downstairs. I do not know if Daharan simply conjures that which he needs when he needs it or if he leaves this dimension when he leaves your apartment, but there is nothing there.”

“And you think that’s suspicious,” I said.

“It is certainly odd.”

“What were you doing down there anyway?” I asked, feeling defensive about Daharan, as usual.

“I took care of the arrangements we discussed earlier while you slept.”

I gave him a blank look for a moment before I realized what he was talking about. Chloe. He’d burned Chloe’s body in the fireplace downstairs as I’d asked. Which reminded me . . .

“Shit, Jack Dabrowski is still downstairs in the storage area,” I said. “I totally forgot about him.”

“What should we do with him?” Nathaniel asked. “If you release him now, you will have the same problem as yesterday. He will run straight home to his computer and publish everything that occurred in this house.”