The next thing she knew, she was running from bloody-mouthed ghouls. They chased her down long, carpeted hallways past numbered doors. She screamed and ran faster. Suddenly the hallways ended, and she stood at the edge of a cliff. The ghouls laughed and floated toward her.

"I like them feisty," one of the ghouls said in Adam's voice.

​​

"I'm going to use you up," said another with the same voice.

They lunged toward her, and she jumped off the cliff, plummeting into the dark canyon below. She woke with a scream, jerking upright in bed.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked.

She rubbed her eyes, "Bad dream. These ghouls were chasing me in a hotel and—well, never mind."

As she spoke, she saw Sean's eyes turn icy. She didn't want to talk about her nightmare or about the attack at the hotel.

"You're safe here," he said. "If you want, I can hold you while you sleep."

"I'm all sweaty," she said.

The green silk robe clung to her damp skin. She wanted to take it off, but she didn't want to strip in front of Sean. Instead, she tugged at the damp strands of hair stuck to the back of her neck.

"Come here," he said.

Reluctantly, she inched toward him. He shifted the pillows underneath her, looking down at her as he worked. With one hand, he continued to tap a message on his phone, but with the other, he stroked her hair, gently untangling the strands. She sighed as his cool fingers raked over her scalp, and she rested her face against his chest.

"I'll get them," he whispered. "I swear I will."

The steady rhythm of his heart calmed her. The slow, even thrum reassured her, and she closed her eyes again, but she couldn't sleep.

"Is it the sunlight?" he asked.

"Not really," she said.

"Then talk with me," he said.

"About what?" she asked. "The weather?"

"About something normal," he said. "Something a normal husband and wife, would talk about."

"Hmm," she thought. "What about your family?"

"What about them?" he asked, his voice growing suspicious.

"I mean your grandmother," she said. "I liked her."

"She's an impressive woman," he said.

"Do you think she's offended that I haven't been back to visit her yet?" she asked. "And what about your sister-in-law and Bentley? I'd like to get to know them better."

"Hmm," he said, his chest rumbling against her ear. "I've made it clear that I have my reasons for keeping you away."

"But I can't stay away from them forever," she said. "They're your family. You shouldn't cut them out of your life just because a few of them don't like me."

"You really want to see them?" he asked.

"I do," she said.

"Alright," he said. "I'll try to find a day to arrange a visit."

***

The night was dark, and the air was thick. Heavy gray clouds choked the moon, and the air was still and damp. Madison woke to pant in her bed. She looked around the room without recognizing it. Shabby walls with chipping paint surrounded her. She shifted on her creaky mattress and took a deep breath. Slowly, she remembered—she wasn't at the mansion anymore. She was staying in a dingy flat in central London.

She looked around the room again, wondering what had woken her. She hadn't been having a nightmare, but something had pulled her from her sleep. She looked around the room again, noticing the way her threadbare curtains seemed to stir. She blinked and looked again—she'd shut the window before bed, the curtains shouldn't be moving.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, preparing to get up and shut the window again. Suddenly, she froze. Just below the window, a dark, hulking shape had appeared. She stared at it, and her blood ran cold—it was staring back.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She knew she had to be imagining it. Though the flat wasn't in a nice neighborhood, it wasn't in a total slum either. A floorboard creaked, and she opened her eyes again. The dark shape was still there.

Chewing her lip, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The floor creaked again, and something groaned. Chills shot down her spine, and she balled out her hands into fists. Her mind raced. It's just a cat or a dog, she thought—just a stray.

She closed her eyes, but the sense of unease stayed. There was no way a stray animal could open the window and climb into the flat. Another thought seized her. What if it was a burglar? And if it was a burglar, why didn't it move? Was it watching her?

She lay back down on the bed and settled in as if she was just moving around in her sleep. Pulling the blanket up, she crept her hand along with the mattress toward the bedside table and grabbed her phone. She dialed the home phone number, hoping that the ringing sound would scare the burglar or at least wake her parents. She waited, but the house remained silent. Why wasn't the phone ringing?

A cold sweat drenched her skin, and she tried her mother's cell phone and then her father's, but neither of their phones rang. It was as if their batteries were dead or their phones were off. She shivered in panic. Her parents never turned off their phones, and she knew they charged them every night.

With a deep breath, she jumped out of bed and charged toward her bedroom door. She grabbed the handle and turned, but the door didn't budge. She tried harder, throwing her weight against the door, but it was locked from the outside.

She turned back to the window, but the dark shape was gone. Her heart raced, and her head spun. Scenes from horror films flashed in her head. She knew with absolute certainty that there was something in her room, but she didn't know what it was.

Fumbling on the wall, she flipped the light switch, and the dusty chandelier overhead flickered. Bright white light flooded the room, and she blinked in surprise. A dark male figure crouched next to her bed, holding his arms up to protect his face from the light. She shivered—he didn't have any hands.

He wore torn clothes, splattered with dirt and blood. Instead of a right hand, a stump in bloody white gauze emerged from the sleeve.