he breath from her lungs, but the pain felt distant, m

of wet sand. The blue light from the television screen flickered a

seemed to echo inside her skull. The sedatives weren't just putting her to sleep; they were

d no relief. Instead, her consciousness plum

ed by the heavy, oppressive scent of aged whiskey and Cuban ci

r sanctum of Langley Manor. The private study of G

She could only watch as the hallucina

his leather chair. He was clutching his chest, his face contorted in absolut

th caught i

udden, massive heart attack. It was the event that had

't tell which- played, a dark, shadowy fig

n suffer. Gaston reached a trembling hand out toward

ure reached across the desk and picked up a

wn and whispered something

den in sheer terror. His body seized violent

ate to grab the shadowy figure, to see

assed throu

was instantly back on the floor of her bedroom, g

ck, staring at the cei

patriarch hadn't just died; he had been removed. And if she could prove it, if she could

embling hand toward her pocket, feeling the solid, reassuring shape of her p

e dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to u

crept into the edges of her v

slipped away, the darkness morphed. It wasn't a peaceful sleep. It was