Screaming woke me in the night, a man's voice full of horror. Shocked into wakefulness, I scrambled out of my covers and up against the headboard of the bed, unable to comprehend where I was or figure out where the screaming was coming from. The screaming changed cadence, turning sharp and panicked, and then I heard a thud to my left, and nothing more.

My head turned to the adjoining door. That... that had been Dain. Dain had been screaming in his sleep, torn into awareness by nightmares and his own voice. I set that knowledge against the things I knew about him, and came away confused. Every new piece of information I got about him turned him into more of a mystery, a bunch of disparate pieces that seemed to come from totally different people.

I wasn't going to go confront him about it, though, let alone in the middle of the night. I certainly didn't have the sort of relationship with Dain where I might gently bring up nightmares, and ask if he was okay. I'd be lucky if I got only snarling in reply. So, heart still pounding from adrenaline, I got back under the sheet and lay with my back facing Dain's suite, and tried to go back to sleep. Maybe one day I would ask, but it wouldn't be tonight and it wouldn't be tomorrow, so now wasn't the time to agonize about it.

The morning light woke me, and while I still half-drowsed in bed, I heard a sharp knock on the door. Susan's room was still shut tight, so I got out of bed and ambled over to the door.

I opened it to see Dain, holding a burlap sack. My stomach dropped and sweat broke out over my whole body, nausea surging. The skulls. I'd forgotten about the skulls. He'd promised to put the skulls of four dead people on my breakfast table, and he was here to deliver.

"Step aside, Leah," he said quietly. "Let me in, and close your eyes."

Confusion flooded me, and Dain took a deep breath before reaching out with one wing-arm and setting his hand against the door. He pushed, not forcefully, but with intent, and I backed up with the door, not taking my eyes off of him.

He stepped into the room, not meeting my eyes. "Close your eyes," Dain said again.

Shaking, I complied. I heard him walk past me, and then the sound of burlap rustling. Then, oh, God, the sound of bone clacking against itself, and the clatter as he put them on my table. I had to grab my mouth, swallowing over and over to keep from puking, tears starting to run down my face. More sound, bone-on-bone, was he stacking them? Would I have to look at those dead skulls, those dead people, displayed like some sort of sick Halloween decoration?

—James, falling, falling, dead, he was dead—