Part 19 (1/2)

”No!” she cried out loud herself, and she turned at last. She had to get behind Finn.

But Finn wasn't there. She wasn't on a stage at all; she was in the woods.

The crowd began to part, leaving way for someone to break through.

She felt the breeze, a shadow of darkness. There was gra.s.s around her...

And little protruding stones.

Then she saw him... it... the reason the crowd had parted. Walking toward her, not walking. . . sliding toward her. And she saw that it was the creature, the marble creature from the cemetery. The face was horrible, terrifying... a satyr's face, long and lean, pointed chin, horned head... and yet, it was familiar. It was leering, ogling, laughing... so amused. There was something about it, about the eyes... that were hypnotic. She'd been so cold. Those eyes touched her, raked over her, seemed to burn her flesh. She had never been more frightened in her life... or more lured. She wanted to run, to flee... and she wanted to be touched.

It moved on cloven hoofs, not feet at all. That was why the strange gait as it came. It breathed something like fire, and that was why the sudden warmth. But she stood, aware that her cloak was gone, and she lifted her chin, because she could feel its heat, its gaze, brus.h.i.+ng over her flesh, and the warmth within her grew until she was ready to fall upon her knees, accept whatever odious dictates the creature gave, as long as it touched her in truth. She could feel it more and more, and her thighs burned, liquid rushed through her, just knowing that the creature was coming was making her feel a raw excitement, a longing, a desire to He before it, parted, naked...

The face, the face, so familiar!

Then, it was upon her, and the hands or hooves that touched her flesh were brutal, painful. There was a scent of death and decay around the creature. She started to scream, but too late, it was on her, and she was pinned to the ground, and it was in her, and she was fighting, but to no avail, for his power was tremendous, his invasion complete, ripping, tearing and then she knew what she recognized in the face...

”Finn!”

She awakened abruptly, only to find out that all of it hadn't been a dream, or a nightmare.

He was over her, teeth gritted, features strained, body convulsed.

His eyes...

For a moment, it seemed that his eyes gleamed like fire.She screamed.

Chapter 8.

A second later, a hand clamped over her mouth. She heard Finn's voice, quite normal, and incredibly annoyed.

”Megan!”

There was a moment in which it didn't matter in the least, in which she lay enshrouded between a world of wakefulness and sleep, lost somewhere between the conscious and real and the tricks of darkness and subconscious.

”Megan!”

He repeated her name. She started; a trembling swept through her. She felt the bed, her husband's form. She knew where she was, exactly, and that once again, she'd experienced a nightmare so real and terrifying that she'd been desperate to wake...

To escape.

Shaken, but released from the tentacles of fear the dream had wrapped around her, she gasped out a sigh of relief. She was still trembling. For a moment, he was still with her, at her side, holding her tensely. Thoughts ripped through her mind at lightning speed.

She had just been dreaming!

Part of the dream had been grounded in fact. They'd been making love. They were both bathed in a damp sheen of sweat. She was shaking; he was as rigid as a steel pipe.

”I had another awful dream! What a nightmare,” she breathed.

”Well, hold tight,” he muttered irritably. ”The nightmare may be just beginning. Fallon could come knocking at the door any second now.”

Finn rose. She needed to curl into him; it seemed that he needed to be far away from her.

The room was dark except for the thin trail of light beaming out from the bathroom. She could see the agility and sleekness of his form as he moved about, going for a robe, impatiently shrugging into it.

He dug through his things, then stepped out on the balcony.

Megan waited several seconds. She saw the flare of his lighter. Finn was resorting to cigarettes frequently now, when he had cut down to smoking only on occasion. She held very still for a minute, trying to recall each phase of the dream, but once she had awakened, it had all slipped away. In the dream, though...

Something evil had been after her. It was because she had listened to Andy Markham. She had gone out to the strange ”unhallowed” cemetery to meet him, which she never should have done, and she had listened to him again, and had nightmares. A psychologist would sniff at her, and point-blankly explain the reasons for her absurd dreams.

So now Finn was out on the balcony, disgusted with her again, smoking.

She gnawed on her lower lip, feeling a flare of her own temper. It was his fault just as much as her own. She didn't understand what was with him lately. He was so rough... and still, she had to admit, that no matter what... he was still exciting.

Previous Top NextMegan rose as well and slipped into a robe. She walked out on the balcony. Finn was standing by the rail, looking out over it.

”Look, I'm sorry I screamed.”

”Hey,” he murmured with a shrug, not looking at her. ”You had a dream.”

”Horrible. I can't even remember it now. But there was this awful thing attacking me.”

”Great. You're dreaming while we're making love. I hadn't a clue you were even asleep. You looked straight at me half a dozen times.”

”I couldn't have,” she protested.

”Megan, you did.”

”Then I've started sleeping with my eyes wide open.”

”And imagining that I'm an 'awful thing' attacking you.” He looked at her at last. His eyes were distant He was distant. Cool, aloof.

”What a surprise. Fallon hasn't shown up yet.”

”Apparently, I didn't scream that loudly.”

”Either that, or he's decided that you're a hopeless, abused woman.”

”Finn, stop it.”

She could see that his jaw was locked. It took him a minute to speak again, then his words surprised her. ”We should leave.”

”Leave? We're a huge success. We've sold hundreds of CDs in two days. We've had national news coverage.”