Sighing, she tried to calm her mind enough to sleep. She tuned into the water in her body, sensing it like the ocean. She concentrated on the rise and fall of her breath and the gentle rush of the blood through her veins. Eventually sheer fatigue dragged her under with heavy hands. Her body relaxed into sleep.

But nightmares caught her instantly.

The smell of must and mothballs stung her nose. Did spiders have a scent? She swore she could detect the fragrance of their frail, dry bodies in the recesses of this place, where fabric brushed her cheeks, and hunger gnawed at her stomach. Despair and sharp-edged fear overwhelmed her and she clawed and beat on the door until she was too weak to do it any longer.

Still no one came.

“No!”

Isabelle sat straight up in bed with her heart pounding and tears streaming down her face. Grief twisted cold and empty through her stomach, weighed heavy in her chest. The sensation made her dizzy and sick.

Just like when she’d been a child.

Breathing hard and shaking, she glanced at the clock. She’d only been asleep ten minutes. Isabelle drew her knees up and covered her eyes with her hands. REM didn’t happen that soon after one fell asleep. How had she dreamed?

Especially about that.

A whimpering sound reached her ears and it took a second for her to realize it came from her. She hadn’t had those dreams in years. Lord and Lady, she thought for sure she’d gotten past all that. Frustrated with herself and her weakness, she squeezed her eyes shut, banishing the memory to the recesses of her mind.

This had to stop. The past was the past. Period. Move on, Isabelle.

Her heart rate slowly returned to normal and Isabelle became aware of a smell amidst the vanilla and lavender, a scent that shouldn’t be there—a dry, earthy fragrance, almost like incense but a little more acrid. A little like how she’d imagined spiders might smell when she’d been a child. It was faint, but definitely there.

Movement out of the corner of her eye. A large shadow, darting.

She turned her head just in time to see a figure flit across the bedroom balcony past the sheer curtains and beyond the sliding glass door…no through the sliding glass door.

Isabelle threw the blankets back and lunged out of bed. She reached the patio door in a few long strides. Whipping the curtains to the side, she looked past the pane of glass to the dark sky. No one stood on the balcony. Nothing there.