In Death 19 - Visions in Death

like blood from a wound. In sleep she twitched, and her hands balled into fists. But she couldn't fight it off, and it took her.
    Took her back.
    It wasn't the room in Dallas, the place she feared most. It was dark, without the wash of dingy red light, without the icy air. Instead there were shadows, and a clammy kind of heat, the heavy smell of flowers going to rot.
    She could hear voices, but couldn't make out the words.
    She heard weeping, but couldn't locate the source. It seemed like a maze, sharp corners, dead ends, a hundred doors all closed and locked.
    She couldn't find her way out, or in. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She knew there was something else in the dark, something close behind her, something horrible waiting to strike.
    She should turn and fight. It was always better to stand and fight, to face down what came after you and beat it back.
    But she was afraid, so afraid, and ran instead.
    It laughed, low.
    Her hand shook when she reached for her weapon, shook so hard she could barely draw it. She would kill it, if it touched her, she would kill it.
    But she kept running.
    Something stepped out of the shadows, and on a breathy scream she stumbled back and fell to her knees. Sobs clogged her throat as she brought her weapon up, sweaty finger poised to fire.
    And saw it was a child.
    He broke my arm. The little girl, Abra, held her arm close to her body. My daddy broke my arm. Why did you let him hurt me? "I didn't. It wasn't me. I didn't know." "It hurts.
    "I know. I'm sorry." You're supposed to make it stop.
    More shadows moved, circling her, taking form. She saw where she was now. In the room in the house called Hope, the room full of bruised and battered women, of sad-eyed, broken children.
    They stared at her, and their voices filled her head.
    He cut me.
    He raped me.
    He burned me.
    Look, look at my face. I used to be pretty.
    Where were you when he threw me down the stairs? Why didn't you come when I was screaming? "I can't. I can't." Elisa Maplewood, blind and bloody, stepped closer. He took my eyes. Why didn't you help me ? "I am. I will." It's too late. He's already here.
    Alarms rang, lights flashed. The women, the children stepped back, stood like a jury at sentencing. The little girl called Abra shook her head. You "re supposed to protect us.
    But you can't.
    He strolled in, the big, terrifying smile on his face, the vile and vicious gleam in his eyes. Her father.
    Take a look at them, little girl. Plenty of them, and there's always more. Bitches just beg for it, so what's a man to do? "Stay away from me." On her knees, she lifted the weapon again. But her hands shook. Everything shook. "Stay away from them." That's no way to talk to your father, little girl. He swung out, smashing her face with the back of his hand in a blow that sent her sprawling onto her back.
    The women began to hum like bees trapped in a hive.
    Gotta teach you a lesson, don't I? You never learn.
    "I'll kill you. I killed you before." Did you? He grinned, and she'd have sworn his teeth were fangs. Then I'll just have to return the favor. Daddy's home, you worthless little cunt.
    "Stay back. Stay away." When she lifted her weapon, it was only a small knife held in a child's trembling hand. "No.
    No. Please, no!" She tried to crawl away, away from him, away from the women. He reached down, as casually as a man might reach for an apple in a bowl. And snapped her arm.
    She screamed, a child's terrified and baffled scream, as the white-hot pain flashed and burned.
    There's always more of them. There's always more of us.
    And he fell on her.
    Eve. Wake up. You wake up now." Her face was bone white, and her body had gone rigid when he'd rolled her over to gather her in. An instant before she'd screamed.
    An icy tongue of panic licked up Roarke's spine. Her eyes were wide open, blind with shock and pain. He wasn't completely sure she was breathing. "I said wake up!" Her body arched, and she sucked in air like a drowning woman. "My arm! He broke my arm, he broke my arm." "No. It's a dream. Oh, baby, it's a dream. Come back now." He trembled as much as she did as he rocked her. Catching a movement, he snapped his head up as Summerset rushed in. "No. I've got her." "Is she injured?" He shook his head, stroked her hair as she wept against him. "Nightmare. A bad one. I'll take care of her." Summerset stepped back, then stopped at the door. "Get a soother in her, whatever it takes." Nodding, Roarke waited until Summerset