There was something familiar about Denver and the snow and mountains, though. Like a wisp of thought she couldn’t quite grasp. Man, she wanted to call Faith and talk. It was possible no one yet knew about her detour to Denver. She’d paid off the driver with a hundred dollar bill, and it was unlikely the Realm would contact Adare when their plane arrived.

Maybe.

Either way, since she’d tossed her phone several counties to the south, she wasn’t calling anybody. So she kept her eyes shut and breathed deep, using the exercises one of her many doctors had taught her. Soon, she drifted into sleep, her body relaxing completely and her mind going dark.

Until light flashed in, jolting her system and flooding her with energy. She slept deeper, turning on her side.

The night came into focus, and she stood in her kitchen in Denver, cookies cooling on the rack and photographs spread across the island. The smells of chocolate and something different, something metallic, filled her nostrils.

Almost in slow motion, she turned to see red dripping down the cupboards. Red against white, a spectacular combination. Where was her camera?

Pain flashed in her head, and glass cut into her back when she rolled over shards, somehow on the floor all of a sudden. Fight. She had to fight. More red dripped down. Was that her blood? Her vision clouded, and she hit back, fighting with everything she had. Blows rained down, one after another, and a voice tried to cut through the pain.

The pain was excruciating, and blood dripped into her ears, partially deafening her.

“You need to stop fighting.” The voice was garbled and angry. She didn’t recognize it. The hands hitting her were strong and bigger than hers. “Just stop. We must go.”

Go? She wasn’t going anywhere. She punched up hard and screamed, her body arching with the effort of her lungs.

He punched her square in the mouth, and she went silent, the hazy room swirling around and darkness trying to take her down. She blinked several times, and saw purplish red eyes. She screamed again, and another punch took her into nothingness.

She gasped and sat up in the bed, her muscles tightening with panic. Coughing, she pressed her hand against her diaphragm, her heartbeat galloping dangerously, her ears ringing. Okay. She was safe. It was just a dream.

Or was it?

Shit. Was it a memory or just a nightmare after the fight with the Kurjans the other night? If it was a memory, they’d found her before she’d even known about immortals.

She shuddered, chilled from head to toe.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deep to calm herself. Was that just a dream? She truly didn’t know. If the Kurjans had found her seven years ago, how had she survived an attack all by herself?

God, she hated not remembering what had happened.