Others were too outlandish. Impossible. Then the dream whirled me to a place I knew. The dungeons of Stranje House. I recognized the smell of mold and dampness that pervades that place. Thick darkness nearly suffocated me. I heard someone crying. It struck me that Lady Daneska might have captured Georgie. The sound of weeping echoed through the dark corridors of my dreamworld, but no matter how hard I tried to find her, she eluded me. I ran as fast as I could in the tangled underbelly of the house, and yet her sobbing only got weaker and more desperate. Chasing the sound through the murky fog, I raced around a corner and collided with Lucien, Lord Ravencross’s older brother. He looked as shocked to see me as I was to see him. His expression flashed from alarm to violence. He aimed a pistol at me. I’ve no idea why he didn’t fire. In a blink, he vanished into the darkness. Often in dreams, a scream is a wispy desperate cry that no one hears. I awoke in a panic, gasping, a hoarse shriek trapped in my throat as if there had been many screams proceeding it.
