Across the room my bag sat on the side table, a rumpled pile of mine and Ashling’s clothes within it. The gapped-back hospital gown slithered to the floor, and the air conditioning lifted goose bumps all over my body. Moving fast, I slid into my jean shorts, tank top and flip flops. My cell phone was there too; I tucked it into my back pocket. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the gown, and far better than being naked. My knife was missing and my heart lurched. It had been my first and last gift from Grandpa. For all that he didn’t like me, I still cherished that knife. There was nothing I could do about it now though. No doubt the police took it.

My mind began to pick up speed as I moved around. I would have to get a boat, maybe hire someone to take me out to where Ashling had disappeared. Scuba gear; I could rent that, though my heart nearly ran away at the thought of diving again. Slipping the bag over my shoulder, I put my hand on the door. An image of the gaping mouth and bulbous single eye of the Fomorii assaulted me, and a shiver of fear rippled down my spine. A spear gun. That should be on my list too. Maybe I could hire some divers to go with me; that would be best. I wasn’t sure I could get back in the water, even now. But for Ashling I would try; I would do everything I could to save her.

I limped down the hallway, my leg still aching. At the nurses’ desk I paused to see that they were engrossed in a cribbage game. With their attention all on their game they didn’t notice me as I walked right out of the hospital.

The fog from my dream seemed to have followed me into the waking world. A heavy grey mist lay over the parking lot, blocking much of the trees and road from sight. I shivered in the late afternoon air and wrapped my arms around myself. You would have never known it was almost July. It looked, and felt, like winter was coming on.

I pulled my phone out and whispered thanks to the heavens that it was still charged. I dialled my mother’s cell phone in the hopes that what the nurses had said was wrong. It rang four times and then went to her voice mail. I hung up before the message came on. I tried my cousin Sheila, where my mother had been staying. No answer there either.

The next number I called was for a cab; the dispatcher, in a completely uninterested tone, finally told me it would be about five minutes. I hung up, and limped to a cement pillar, leaning against it to ease the weight on my leg.

“You shouldn’t be out of the hospital yet.”

I turned to face Luke. “I hate hospitals.”