Your racing heartbeat gradually slows to normal as the familiar surroundings of your warm, safe bedroom come into focus. But for me, waking up meant returning to a reality worse than any nightmare. I shivered; the room where I lay a prisoner had grown icy cold. My left arm felt bruised where the form had touched it. I wished I could move to rub some life back into the spot. I clenched my fingers and felt something. In my right hand, I still held Mab’s bloodstone. Maybe I could try again. And I did try, but I couldn’t settle back into sleep. As soon as my mind started to descend into my dreamscape, the form was back, surrounding me, cutting off air and light, pulling me in. Again and again, I jolted awake. It was useless. I gave up and lay shivering in the darkness. The door opened. Two Old Ones came in, their icy auras chilling the room even more. One of them bent over me, eyeballs rolling in the lidless sockets, fangs stopping just short of my face. His mouth stretched in a ghastly smile.
