The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

think so. Unless my future is filled with angels and vampires.”
    “Oh, yum! Angels and vampires. Maybe the dream represents the basic struggle between good and evil. You’ve always taken the high road, maybe you’re ready to join me on the naughty side. Are you considering doing something wicked, my repressed friend?” She laughed.
    “Not that I know of.” Yeah, as if the opportunity to make a wicked decision ever enters my life. “Maybe I’m yearning for something unusual.”
    “Something unusual? Hmm. There’s hope for you yet. What do you remember about the dream?”
    “The strongest memory is the face of the angel who saved me from a fiend with fangs. My rescuer had long, dark hair, beautiful emerald eyes and pale skin. Hey! I just realized I dreamed in colour. That’s weird for me. Even though the dream scene took place at night, I could still see the red blood dripping from the vampire’s mouth and the green of the angel’s eyes.” She hooted out a laugh.
    “What?”
    “The angel wore a Rolling Stones T-shirt. The one with the big tongue. Not anyone’s idea of standard celestial garb, I’d say.”
    “At least he had good taste. I’m encouraged that you’re dreaming about a man. Remember what I told you . . .”
    Grace snorted. “You mean your margarita-fuelled ramblings about my destiny? The man I’m supposed to meet? The one who’ll rock my world?”
    “Hey!” Roz pretended to be offended before assuming an obviously fake gypsy-fortune-teller accent. “You’re trifling with an ancient prediction. Ignoring a prognostication passed down through the women of my family - the outcome of a revelation long awaited. Disregard at your own peril . . .”
    “Chill, Madam Roz,” Grace laughed. “Put away the crystal ball. I believe, I believe.”
    “OK then,” Roz said, cheerfully speaking in her normal voice again. “Maybe your dream has deeper implications. I’ll have to meditate on your symbols and see what I can conjure for you.”
    “Thanks,” Grace sighed. “But I’m sure I can figure it out. I’ll sing about it. Maybe I just watched too many horror movies as a kid.”
    Roz hesitated a few seconds. “You sound very serious this morning, Grace. Not yourself. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over? I could cast a little healing spell - cook something chocolate in my cauldron. It’s not a problem. I worry about you being alone so much.”
    Me too.
    “You’re sweet, Roz. I’m OK. I’ve got a busy afternoon with lessons and a recording session. Then tonight I have another sound circle. In fact, I’d better get to it. Thanks for calling. I probably would’ve slept all day if you hadn’t.”
    “Well, if you’re sure you’re OK. I’m just a phone call away if you change your mind. Love you.”
    “You too.”
    Grace hung up.
    She swung her legs over the side of the bed, still feeling slightly fuzzy. She hadn’t felt so off since the last time she’d gotten carried away with champagne at a friend’s wedding, and she was certain she hadn’t consumed any alcohol in days. Unless she’d overindulged in her dream and had an imaginary hangover. Or maybe being in an angel’s presence was intoxicating. She chuckled at the idea.
    She shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped inside, thinking about the strange dream.
    There was an air of mystery around the beautiful, phantom man with the green eyes. It was unusual for her to remember his face in such detail, after only a brief glimpse. She imagined herself running her fingers through his long silky hair and skimming her lips along the strong bones of his jaw. His features were almost too perfect, his body too buff. She laughed out loud.
    Whoa! Get a hold of yourself, Grace! It was just a dream. A great dream, but all in your head.
    The hot water felt wonderful against her bruised skin.
    Wait a minute. Bruised skin? Why is my skin bruised? When did that happen?
    She finished washing her body and hair, slashed the plastic curtain aside and angled over to the full-length mirror. Investigating all the tender spots, she discovered bruises on both elbows, her hips and an especially spectacular extravaganza near her tail bone.
    As she pressed on the blue-purple skin of her hip she had a sudden memory flash of hitting the ground, hard.
    What? I don’t remember falling down. Did I roll out of bed onto the floor?
    The pale face of the dream angel with the Rolling Stones T-shirt floated into her mind and she