Dirt trickled down, hitting her neck and shoulders.

Her other hand pressed against the bed—and found dirt.

She flung her arms out with bruising force—and found dirt.

Her toes, when she stretched her legs a little, found dirt.

No, she thought, fighting the panic, this was a dream. A bad dream. She couldn’t be…buried. Couldn’t be.

Shutting her eyes to keep the dirt out, she blindly explored.

It was a neatly cut rectangle. A well-made grave. If it was a grave, the earth above would be loose. Whoever did this would have had to dig down to put her there.

Half sobbing, half gasping, Alexandra clawed at the dirt above her face. When her hand hit tree roots, she stopped, stunned.

That wasn’t right. Someone would have had to dig around the roots.

Scooting down a little, she began clawing at the dirt again. It was packed solid, frozen.

Think. Think. A witch could pass through solid objects. It was dangerous, yes, but she could do it if she didn’t panic.

Alexandra forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily as she concentrated. Raising one hand, she slowly passed it through the dirt, moving upward, upward, slowly, slowly. She raised her other hand.

Her hands were moving through the dirt, moving upward to freedom.

Alexandra let out a small laugh of relief.

Then her hands hit something more solid than the earth.

Her fingers poked, prodded. She felt nothing, and yet something was there.

Concentrating her energy on making the pass, she pushed against that nothingness while her Opal Jewel glowed with her effort, drawing on her reserves, focusing her strength. She sent the force of the Jewel into her hands and pushed.

A dark, crackling, overwhelming energy snaked down her fingers into her arms. Alexandra shot backward, hitting her head against a dirt wall.

Her strength was gone. The Jewel hung around her neck, dark and empty. If she’d pushed against that energy another moment longer, her Jewel would have broken, and her mind would probably have shattered with it.

“No,” Alexandra moaned. She beat her hands against the floor of her dirt coffin. “No.” She felt dizzy. The air. There was no more air. Gathering her legs beneath her as best she could, Alexandra sprang upward, trying to break free of the earth.

“No!”

Alexandra’s chin hit the end of her bed.

She lay on her stomach, gasping, shivering.

A dream. It was, after all, a dream.

A soft, icy laugh filled her mind. *Not a dream, my dear.* Daemon’s voice rolled through her mind, sentient thunder. *A taste. I’m a very good, very discreet gravedigger. I’ve had centuries of practice. Just remember, Alexandra. If Jaenelle isn’t back, unharmed, by tomorrow afternoon, you will feed the worms.*

He was gone.

Alexandra rolled onto her back. It was a trick, a dream. He couldn’t have.

She raised a shaking hand, closing her eyes against the weak glow of the candle-light.

A dream. An evil dream.

Alexandra pushed herself up on one elbow—and stared at her hands.