I was sitting in the study with my back to the sunlight streaming in through the open window. I was dreaming. I knew because I felt above myself, floating somewhere between two worlds: the past, the present, as myself and someone else: Arrious.

It felt as though I was carrying out her day as she would have, but somewhere new, somewhere welcoming, even if she was afraid of the invitation.

I perspired so much, sweat trickled down to my ringlets and the crease of my open petticoat. Patting myself dry at the top of my heaving breasts with a laced handkerchief, I read the scriptures of a book entitled The Stone, sensing I wasn't alone.

"Will you never ask?" a voice asked, a voice that had become imprinted to my memory.

"Ask you what?" I replied, keeping my gaze on the book.

"Where I have been all day."

"It is no concern of mine." I turned another page, careful not to tear the delicate pages detaching from the bind.

Large, booted feet stepped toward me, distressing the wood floor. "Could you be so kind as to look at me when I'm speaking to you?"

I moved my carefully erect posture to face the towering shadow. My eyes met those that had haunted me even in my sleep.

It was Cray stood before me, tall and abrasive, his lucid brown eyes mirroring my reflection, caught between what seemed like a virtual fire and wind.

"I have been to the parish," he began, his voice calming some type of inner battle. "To pray, spare you my sins."

He bowed, clasping the tip of a sword by his thigh. His leather attire crunched noisily between my escaping silent gasps for breath. He had lowered himself as in worship, when in all truth, I knew in this dream, I was a peasant who was unworthy of his approval or attention.

"Then you have spared me the trouble," I replied, keeping my true feelings aside.

"And do you spare me your heart?" he asked, holding out his hand for me. Mine shook from the mere thought of physical contact.

Still, I obliged and placed my hand in his. The touch both soothed and ached my guilty conscience. He kissed my fingers, sending a tingle of warmth after the initial iciness of his breath.

"You must come with me," he said.

"Where to?" I asked, aware of my still trembling hand and the ice forming around my fingernails.

"Anywhere you wish, far from here." He kissed my hand and held it to his face; held it as if it was dearer to him than his life.

"I must stay. Face your mother," I proclaimed with a sudden authority.

"My mother will never understand."

He rose swiftly, bringing me to my feet to press me to the matching pound of his heart. The coolness of his breath froze my lips until they stang.

"Please," I begged. "We mustn't."

"You shall not come to any harm." He moaned against my neck, knotting his fingers in the loose curls of my hair. He kissed me. Hard.

It broke my defenses, splitting my thoughts into two halves: my will to stop what we were doing and my will to carry on and face the consequences.

Easing me against a bookshelf, he rained kisses down to my waist. His mouth moved savagely to my neck with a sharp graze of teeth.

"Crystal." He sighed. "Crystal, be mine. I shall save you, even from myself."

I opened my eyes. The Cray I knew was holding me, dressed as himself. I was myself, too, wearing my own clothes, confused and...aroused. But I was afraid of it. We hardly knew each other.

I tried to struggle free. Cray was strong. I couldn't escape. Yet a weaker part of me still wanted to fall into his arms.

He let go and pushed me onto the desk. Ornaments and framed photographs fell to the floor. Some were of children or black fetus's melting. Others were of mothers clasping beating hearts. My face was in one of the photographs, partially shadowed by slivering creatures roaming in and out of my mouth.

I screamed as Cray crouched over me, brushing back my hair and kissing my face. "Quiet now. It will be fine." He hushed me. "I have you now." He smothered me with more kisses. For a moment, his voice was making me want to give in and kiss him back, but the sudden murderous look in his eyes made me pull back. "No! Let go! Please!" Tears burned at my eyes.

He closed his eyes and bit into my shoulder. I screamed, sharp shuddering screams that popped and muted all sound from my ears.

When I opened my eyes, Cray had disappeared. I was lying on a couch in a room I didn't recognize with somebody cloaked in red stood over me, holding a mass of black beads which held a swinging silver cross. I didn't know what to make of the new scene confronting me. I still felt outside of myself, watching, hoping Cray wouldn't re-appear, especially not the Cray he had become.

I realized my hands were tied behind my back and my feet were bound. A new wave of panic gripped me, and I tried to scream, but couldn't. The room spun. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness.

The person cloaked in red chose that moment to sing with a coarse male voice as I almost vomited. Thunder clapped and rain attacked the windows like steel pellets. The room became misty and dark, with just tall candles glowing on russet tapestry and ivory walls. Everything that was once white was now an omnipresent purple. Everything that was weightless and atmospheric was now abnormal and overcast with leering shadows.

The man in the red cloak seemed to be the only person in the room. His hood slipped back a little, and I saw puffy cheeks and a pink-dotted nose. He kept repeating the same hymn, calling for something to enter me and heal my grudging soul. Except it didn't sound like he was asking for anything cleansing. Deep down from some kind of inner awareness, I knew he was chanting, reciting what wasn't biblical at all.

He held me down and I squirmed and tried to scream again. It was useless. Someone appeared beside him, robed in red, too, concealed with their hood.

The man began to pour lukewarm liquid on my face. I kept my mouth closed. I didn't want it entering me. I could tell by its horrid stench I shouldn't even inhale it. Yet somehow it managed to find its way into me, seep into a part open without my knowledge: the diamond-shaped birthmark between my breasts. It felt sucked inwards, slicing me down the middle.

A scream finally tore from my lungs. The man just sang louder.

Others dressed in the same red cloaks gathered as the rope around my arms and legs disappeared. The pulverizing pain in my chest quickly vanished, and the roof fragmented into dust, allowing me to float upwards as my arms dissolved into wings in the starry night sky.

Lightning jolted through me and stopped my heart, yet somehow I kept breathing, hovering in an ashen sky, my hair billowing with streaks of yellow and violet.

It was peaceful in the sky, until a female voice shrieked and my wings were stripped away and torn as if made from lint.

As I fell through smoke, something like burning liniment oils dripped onto my skin. I melted, bleeding all the way down to my bone white feet.

When I landed, it was in a churning black sea, women and children reached out for me, whining, calling my name as they ripped out chunks of what was left of my flesh with sharp, jagged teeth.

I felt a tugging on my arms.

"Stop," demanded a voice. "Quit struggling."

"No," I screamed. "No, please. Leave me alone. Don't eat me!"

I was held down harder, fingers dug into the tops of my arms.

"Please don't. Don't hurt me!!"

The grip tightened around my arms.

"Help me! Somebody help!"

My hands clawed at what was attacking me.

"Oh, my!" a voice shrilled.

Another scream erupted from me. I opened my eyes just as a white light beamed on my face. I was still clawing at someone.

"What on earth is going on?" yelled a voice that sounded like Isobel.

A face came into focus: male and with deep brown, frowning eyes.

Cray.

He was shirtless. I instantly became alert and nervous, trying to tear my gaze away from his to take in the rest of my surroundings.

I was back in my room at the manor.

Cray let go, and I curled into a ball; shocked, afraid, and most of all, embarrassed.

I couldn't stop panting if I tried.

"Cray, your eye." Isobel gasped.

"Let's take a look at you," Syd offered.

Syd. For some reason, I breathed easier knowing she was there.

I peered between my fingers and saw Cray shrug away from Syd before storming out of the room. Isobel looked to the doorway and then at me, unsure whom to tend to first. Understandably, she chose Cray.

Syd hurried to my bed, re-tying her housecoat. "I'm here now, Crystal. No need to worry."

Grabbing my hand, she rubbed away the cold that had seeped into my bones.

~ * ~

In my dream, Cray had been different: apologetic and sincere, dressed in clothes fit for a Duke or Earl, a member of an upper class rich society like Asholme, someone who probably rode on horseback and served to protect their heir and legacy.

I on the other hand, had been meek and with little substantial clothing, no matter how much I tried to appear as noble.

Was he supposed to be Asholme? Was I really partly Arrious?

I had felt somehow equal to the Cray in the dream. Maybe even the better half of the

Cray who had bowed to greet me, taken my hand like a queen before butterfly kissing my face and neck. I had felt the chill of his roaming hands as my thighs clenched around his waist, wanting more of him, even though I knew it was wrong.

My eyes rolled back and I shivered from the return of desires that weren't tucked away so deep. Turning onto to my side, I bunched up the sheets, wanting to squeeze out the thoughts.

But another memory hit me: the force, the change in Cray's expression, the way he devoured my weakness with each eager kiss.

I had feared Cray. I hadn't trusted his instincts or his limits, the way he snarled and snapped like a crazy animal. I recalled the electric charge from his teeth sinking into my flesh, how I couldn't see anything at that moment, but his eyes; red eyes above my head, breaking into flecks of gold dust and sweeping through the dark.

Gathering up the sheets higher, I made another attempt to stop the images of the cloaked people circling my mind along with the look on Cray's face. I didn't want to relive the image of crying women and children relying on me to save them, the way they were trying to...eat me.

But the images wouldn't stop resurfacing.

I threw back the sheets and sat up, frustrated and scared. That was when I noticed flecks of blood on my night shirt and remembered Cray yelling at me to stay still, my nails slashing him across the face.

It must have been his blood on my shirt. I must have hurt him. But where? His eye? He was holding it when he left the room. It was all coming back to me.

I needed to apologize and explain. But what could I say? Could I tell him what I'd dreamed? Would he believe me? Would he care?

I had to remember we were kind of second cousins. It wasn't supposed to be on my to-do list to develop an unwise crush. I came here to learn more about my parents, experience something new, exciting, maybe even inspiring.

Yet too many thoughts circled in my head.

I probably shouldn't have come here, was the common one. I shouldn't have listened to my inner voice telling me it was the right thing to do. My actions now seemed to be the complete opposite.

I grabbed my cell phone to dial the number to the bookstore. Jared would know what to say. He would know how to calm me.

"Hello," I yelled when someone answered.

"H...a..."

"Jared, is that you?"

"Ye...how...eee...well...you are."

"Jared, I can't hear you. It must be a bad connection."

"What...se...en do then...es, da...p."

I walked around the room to help get a better connection. "I don't understand." I was about to hang up.

"Hello," came a voice.

"Jared?"

"Crys! How's it going?" My heart dropped to my feet. It was just T.J., sounding amused about something.

I bit my lip, refusing to get agitated. Besides, our last conversation hadn't been the best. If I was to make up for the way I treated him, I had to hide how I was really feeling and act happy. "Hey, T, I just wanted to see how you were getting on without me."

I groaned internally. He would only have said 'I told you so' if I mentioned the dream and how it was making me feel.

I ran back to bed, just in case the ghost of Arrious chose to make a sudden appearance. "Is Jared okay?" I asked.

Was he still annoyed with me?

We had hugged at the airport, but it wasn't the same as usual. He had been tense, unresponsive. My call to him yesterday had been just as awkward.

"Uh...ye-ah."

"What do you mean 'ye-ah'? What are you hiding? Is he ill? I should get back and take care of him. He's too old to be working so hard."

I think I need to get out of here, I almost added, but decided not to worry them.

"He's fine. Jared thinks you should stay now that your there. But you can come home whenever you want, you know. You're not a prisoner."

Jared now wanted me to stay? I needed to speak to him.

T.J. laughed and I laughed along to be polite. The word "prisoner," was exactly how I was feeling right now. Dramatic, I know, but I had a tendency to be. I had to live up to being dysfunctional and slightly affected by my childhood somehow.

Admittedly, I was sometimes an attention seeker, probably because people like me tended to blend into the crowd when they said they were an orphan. Sometimes it didn't matter how pretty, clever, or kind and considerate you were, people usually kept an emotional distance. It was as if your abandonment and loss was contagious.

I cleared my throat. "Isobel's paid for a return ticket in June, T. I can't just up and leave."

This, I conceded, was the reason I kept giving myself.

"So you do wanna come home?"

I knew he was eager for me to say yes. He had been against my idea to leave Utah and so soon, too. He just hid it better.

Don't blame me if gold digging Isobel is a psycho who buried her husband in her back yard, he had joked.

Now it didn't seem so funny. I didn't really know Isobel. Five months wasn't enough time to fully trust someone. And my instincts telling me this was my family home and that I belonged here might not have been completely true. Jared's fears might have been valid.

I thought back to Selma's vision with a shudder.

Could the dreams and what Selma had seen be connected? Could it all have something to do the story behind the women in my family?

No, my dreams were just reflecting what was being said to me in real life, that's all.

"Not really," I finally said, stewing over those thoughts.

"You suck at lying, Crys. What is it? I won't say I told you so. Even if you did rush into this."

I couldn't let Jared find out I wanted to come home. I couldn't worry him. Not when I hadn't listened to him in the first place.

"Listen, T, when I want your advice, I'll ask for it. And I waited five months. If you didn't hear me the first time, I said I was FINE." My attempt at being calm was a big fail.

"Okay, okay. Sheesh."

There was no way I was heading home this close to hearing more about my parents. I had too much pride, something else I might have inherited from my mother. And it had only been another bad dream. It didn't have to mean it could be about to happen. It didn't have to mean

Selma's vision had been onto something.

"Sorry, T," I muttered. "Everything really is okay. Thanks for asking. Things are just a little...overwhelming right now."

The door to the store tinkled.

"Is that Jared?"

I could hear crackling and the phone being put down.

"T?"

The line cut.

I called again, a few times, but the line kept getting disconnected. I had to know if Jared was alright. When I couldn't get a connection, I threw my cell phone on the bed and stomped into the bathroom. A moment ago, I had everything back to half way normal. Now I was agitated again, worrying about Jared. I wouldn't have cared if Arrious jumped out and kissed me.

After swallowing two aspirin from the medicine cabinet and wiping my face with a towel from one of many piled on the shelf, I walked back to my room and sat at the vanity table to brush my hair. It wasn't sitting how I wanted it to, so I scrunched it into a messy bun. I didn't apply much make-up either, something else that was a first. But then I thought of Cray and felt compelled to make the effort.

Yet no amount of face paint was going to make me feel energetic and less worried about Jared's health. It had only been a dream, but something felt wrong about my trip to Blacksville. And it wasn't just because of what had happened these past few days.

I couldn't put my finger on it or stop wondering about Jared, which only made things worse.

I had a nagging feeling I was going to find out the hard truth sooner or later.

Whether I liked it or not.

And when I least expected it.

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