Night of the Tiger(4)

But Aimee had never been a quitter, and she saw no reason to start now.

Anger washed over her in waves. How dare they do this to her? How dare he do this to her? She wouldn’t even say his name, not even in her mind. She sensed that to do so would give him even more power over her, and she needed whatever edge she could get.

She dug her fingers into the ground and pulled with all her might, ignoring the burning in her lungs and the fatigue seeping into her muscles. Her thin gown was no match for the rough ground beneath her. Fabric tore as rocks and debris dug into her tender skin.

Not that way.

Aimee stilled. The voice was feminine and light. Kind. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. This was a trick. It had to be.

No trick. Follow my voice.

Even though she didn’t fully trust the voice, she turned toward it. Any chance of escape was better than none. Immediately, a draft of fresh air struck her face. She sucked in a huge breath. The air was sweet. Clean. Adrenaline rushed through Aimee’s veins as she sensed the way out. Grabbing the nearest rock, she hauled herself to her knees.

The demons watched her from their various perches, their eyes glowing with anticipation and hunger. Some clung to stones, others sat in crevices, while two hung from the ceiling, saliva dripping from six-inch fangs.

Why didn’t they attack her?

They can’t. You are the key.

The key? The key to what?

Hurry!

The voice sounded worried, and that was all the impetus Aimee needed to get moving. Digging deep, she found the last vestiges of her strength and pushed to her feet, stumbling forward. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel. See her body still lying in her bed. She raced toward it.

The chant of the demons swelled behind her, almost shoving her onward. She gathered the last of her strength and leapt toward the light, propelling herself forward. Her feet left the ground in a rush and she fell, her body plummeting downward, air racing around her limbs.

Aimee screamed.

She bolted upright in bed, her cry of terror echoing off the walls of her bedroom. Lightning flashed, and for a brief second she thought she saw a pair of red eyes staring at her from the corner of her room by the open window.

Frantic, she scrambled for the lamp on her nightstand. She smacked the base, almost knocking it over. Swearing under her breath, she fumbled with the switch and finally managed to turn it on. The room was suddenly bathed in a soft glow that drove back the shadows.

“It was just a dream,” she assured herself. “Nothing more than a dream. You’ve had them before.”

That was nothing less than the truth. What she didn’t want to admit to herself was they were getting worse, more realistic each time she had one. It was as though she’d been having the same one for months. It just kept expanding, getting longer and more detailed each time she had it.

At first it had simply consisted of a sense of being watched. That had escalated to her being lost in an underground cave. She’d seen her first demon several weeks ago. But tonight was something else altogether. Tonight’s nightmare had topped them all.

Still shaking, Aimee slid her legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. Her gown clung to her skin, and sweat plastered her hair to her skull. Shivering, she stood. She needed a hot shower. Then she needed to strip the bed and remake it with clean, fresh sheets.

Not that she expected to get any more sleep tonight.

Glancing at the clock radio, she sighed when she saw it was just after three in the morning. There was nothing she could do about the time. She’d take a nap later today if she needed one. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The shower beckoned and she stood, praying her trembling legs would support her. She shivered as the cold air blowing in through her open window hit her damp skin. She stumbled to the window and closed it, cutting off the breeze.

Her gaze went to the woods behind her home, silent and dark. Another shiver skated down her spine. “There’s nothing out there,” she assured herself. She’d grown up here. Knew every inch of the house and the land. Damned if she’d let a few dreams make her afraid in her own home.

She tore her gaze away and headed toward the bathroom, wincing as a pain shot through her right foot and up her calf. “What the heck?”

Aimee limped into the bathroom and flicked on the strong overhead light. Her pale face stared back at her from the mirror. Her skin was pasty white, making the scars on her left cheekbone stand out even more than usual. Her green eyes appeared huge, tinged with remnants of fear. But it was the seeping wound on her forehead and the light burns on her chin and neck that froze her in place.

She reached up to touch her face. It was then she saw the red marks on her fingers from where the devil in her dream had held her hands.