Chapter 10
Meredith flipped her pillow over to find its cooler side, lay down again, and squeezed her eyes shut. Sleep, she told herself firmly. She had so much to do tomorrow, so much to do every day. She couldn't afford not to be rested.
But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was the cat's little body, bloody and torn. It was a message, she knew: Solomon wanted them to know it could have been any of them. Would be one of them, all of them, soon.
They were determined to find him, but so far Jack was right. Solomon seemed to be invisible.
They'd gone to the apple orchard and searched the fields and woods around it, hoping that Solomon's hideout would be nearby. Nothing. A heavy ominous feeling hung over all of them like a dark cloud. He was coming, and it would be better to hunt him and fight him on their own terms rather than wait for his attack.
Meredith flipped her pillow again and turned over, looking for a more comfortable position. Alaric was snoring softly next to her, sleeping like a log. Closing her eyes again, she saw white on red: the white cat ripped apart on the blood-drenched bed.
Then the image morphed into her friend Samantha, torn apart by vampires back in college, blood sprayed across her bed, and Meredith took a quick breath, one that sounded more like a sob to her own ears. Then it was her brother, Cristian, his gray eyes half-open, Meredith's own stave through his heart.
Every night recently it had been like this, images of death keeping Meredith awake until exhaustion finally caught up with her. So much death.
Pushing the memories away, she tried to make herself relax, timing her breathing to Alaric's: slow, long, steady breaths. She was so tired.
Time passed. After a while, she realized with a start that she was somewhere new. It was chilly, and a glaring white light hung above her, hurting her eyes. She tried to turn her face away.
She couldn't move.
Tensing her whole body, she took a deep breath and tried again. She still couldn't move. It felt like a tracery of thin wires was fitted over her body, holding her in place. Trying not to panic, Meredith strained against it, making an effort to lift one leg and then the other, her mouth dry with fear. Paralyzed.
Her heart thumped in her chest. She couldn't even turn her head. Meredith could hear herself panting, the sound harsh in the silence. Losing her careful control for a moment, she struggled frantically, the tendons in her neck going tight as she tried to thrash against the pillow. She wanted to hit out with her arms, kick, jump up and fight, or run away. But finally she stopped. She still couldn't move.
Calm down, she told herself sternly. Figure out where you are.
The light was blinding, making her eyes sting and water. But if she blinked away the tears, she could make out white walls, flat and sterile looking. A harsh antiseptic smell. Was she in a hospital?
Meredith was stretched out flat on some kind of bed or table, legs together, arms at her sides. There was something made of shiny silver metal just to the left of her head. She tried to examine it through the corner of her eyes. A sink maybe, or some kind of medical equipment.
Something moved at the edge of her field of vision, and she flinched backward. Whatever it was, she knew it wasn't good.
It was watching her.
Something in Meredith snapped, and she began to thrash again, straining ineffectively against the wires holding her immobilized. She tried to shut her eyes against the glare and found that they, too, were held open now. Her throat felt rough and raw, and a harsh, shrill sound went on and on, hurting her ears.
It was a while before she realized that she was the one screaming.
Meredith's eyes snapped open onto darkness. She gasped and panted, trying to calm her racing heart. She was in her own bed. Just a dream.
She'd kicked off the covers. Alaric was stirring and grumbling next to her. "S'matter?" he asked groggily. "You all right?"
"Bad dream," Meredith said, wiping roughly at her eyes. Hunters did not cry. "I couldn't move," she told him. "Something terrible was about to happen to me. I was . . . " She paused to gather her thoughts, and Alaric wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.
"It's okay," he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. "Just a dream. " He sighed, already falling back asleep. Meredith bit back more explanations of exactly how terrible the dream had been, how shaken and uncertain she still felt. Alaric was right; it was only a dream.
But she couldn't shake the feeling of dread coursing through her. There was only one person who might know what it meant, who took dreams as seriously as she did. I wish Bonnie were here, she thought longingly.
I wish I were home, Bonnie thought longingly. This was nothing at all like she'd pictured.
She'd thought a witchy retreat would be all about getting in touch with nature. Hadn't Alysia said that they would be channeling natural elements? Bonnie had pictured a bunch of earthy, hippie types, chanting and waving crystals in between learning about herbs and spells.
It wasn't anything like that. Instead, Bonnie found herself in an elegant skyscraper apartment far above the streets of Chicago. Looking out the floor-to-ceiling stretch of windows beside her, she could see a steady stream of traffic below, the cars tiny and toylike. There were about twenty people scattered in groups around the big room, all beautifully dressed, glasses in hand. Near her, a sharp-featured blonde in an ice-blue cocktail dress tipped her head back and laughed shrilly. It was an expensive cocktail party in a big city, and Bonnie felt frumpy and out of place.
I am strong, she told herself. I am magic. But she could feel a prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. This room of strangers felt almost like the glamorous high society she'd mingled with in the Dark Dimension, a place Bonnie had tried to shut away in the back of her mind. These people could easily be vampires and demons. Why not? What proof did she have, after all, that they weren't? There was no Lady Ulma here to dress Bonnie in finery so that she could outshine them all, and no Damon to save her if they trapped her. Bonnie shoved her fists deep into the pockets of her pants and hunched her shoulders.
The only thing that indicated this place might be more than just an expensive apartment was the mosaic floor, the small tiles underfoot making up a design of intertwining plants, with dark green and rich gold and patches of bright color. Chamomile, she identified automatically, good for strength and healing. Valerian, to guard against evil. Daisies for happiness.
The pattern of leaves and vines and blossoms went all the way around the edges of the room. Further in were runes and other symbols. All the ones she could identify were positive, signs of healing and protection. The center of the mosaic was filled by a brilliant golden sun.
So, probably good witches, Bonnie thought hopefully. Not vampires and demons.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, and Bonnie automatically fished it out. There was a text from Zander: Remember you've saved the world before. You rock. Have fun. I
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