“When you were taking the medicine, you were able to get some rest, which is what you needed at the time. Guess we’ll find out tonight if you can get some sleep without them.”

My mind drifted to the vial upstairs in my room. “I’ll be fine.”

As soon as Sam was settled for the night, I opened the vial and poured a few drops on my wrists. I tucked the vial safely away, then curled up with thoughts of James filling my mind. Within minutes, I was in a deep sleep.

In my dream, the sun was high as James and I walked hand in hand down a trail that led through Judaculla. The air buzzed with excitement, and a familiar waltz played through speakers that were dotted throughout town. Glancing around, I saw several couples, some young, others older, all holding hands as they headed toward a low brick building. James paused, turning me to him, and kissed me. The kiss was tender and perfect and ended way too soon. He stepped back and smiled.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I know,” James said.

We resumed our walk. Soon, we mixed in with other couples, funneling into the single door of the small building. “The Renewal Ball,” was scrawled across a white banner that hung lopsidedly over the door. I thought we were underdressed for a ball, but I adored dancing with James and was thrilled to be going anywhere with him.

The waltz played louder. I was eager to join the others on the dance floor, impatient to be in James’s arms. With a smile, he took my hand to lead me up the few steps to where other couples already swayed to the music.

The room was decorated in garish paper flowers. Streamers hung awkwardly, as if tossed up with no care for aesthetics. It was as if small children had been in charge of decorating for the dance, and I decided they’d probably done the best they could.

James pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my head on his chest. His essence had a calming effect on me as it always did, lulling me into a false sense of security.

James was my safety net.

No. Victor was my safety net.

I froze when Gorbon took the stage, a microphone in front of his puffy face. He was flanked by Zander and Arthur; all three wore matching, plastic smiles on their faces. They motioned for the crowd to move closer. It was then I noticed the basket full of knives at their feet.

“Things have gotten out of hand,” Gorbon said. “If we are to move forward, we must start anew without the reminders of a failed society.”

The men gazed at Gorbon in adoration, listening intently to his speech while their mates began glancing around nervously. Like me, the other women were desperate to find an exit.