When I Saw things, I saw them. Sometimes it was murky, like looking at the transmission on an old, black and white T.V. Other times, I got the full, Technicolor, and Dolby surround sound experience. What I did not get was pain, especially excruciating waves of it, hot and burning and immediate.

And tearing through my body like it was happening right now.

I hugged my pillow and stared into the darkness, shivering and waiting for the pain to back off. It didn’t seem interested, but I was suddenly remembering more—a lot more. Like thrashing around after my body fell off the embankment and into one of the divots left by Aeslinn’s oversized foot.

Now I recalled screaming, in rage and fury because he’d escaped me, and then in agony, because something was wrong. My memory was fractured, with only bits and pieces coming back to me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted them. I felt the shock of cold water as I went under; heard people yelling as I surfaced again; saw billowing steam that was suddenly rising up everywhere; and smelled blood and sizzling meat.

What was happening to me? What was—

Stop it!

Just stop it!

I held onto the pillow like an anchor, but it didn’t help much. Maybe because the room in front of me seemed fractured, too, to the point that it was hard to tell past from present. Semi-transparent figures of acolytes, horror writ large on their usually impassive faces, flitted around like ghosts, then abruptly disappeared.

Furniture moved as things were shoved aside, with the door opening and closing repeatedly, and the chair by the dressing table flickering abruptly out of view. Another ethereal acolyte ran in, carrying a basket of jars, bottles and flasks—Gertie’s feared ointments—but I didn’t think they would help me now. Especially after the girl tripped and went down.

I saw her fall, saw half of the bottles go rolling across the floor, saw several others shatter into a million pieces on the hard old boards. And then nothing—she vanished, winking out of sight along with her spilled basket. Leaving only a faint stain behind, where someone had cleaned up the mess what looked like hours ago.

I closed my eyes in self-defense, and it seemed to help. Most of the memories slacked off and dulled somewhat. But one was still shining, bright and clear and vivid against the darkness of my mind, one so unbelievable that I caught my breath in wonder.

Aeslinn ran.

Not like a king of the fey making an orderly retreat, but like a beaten dog, fearing for his life. Because I’d done it. I’d won.

I knew that, even if I didn’t know anything else. It might be a fleeting victory, since I hadn’t managed to kill him. But I’d hurt him. I’d drained him. I’d driven him off.