Page 29 of The Temptation of Roan Island

I try to turn my head, but it’s heavy. My eyelids feel weighted. The blankets suffocate me. I blink and force my head up, looking at the foot of the bed. The room is dark. The air thick with some unknown presence. “Hello?”

My head flops back against my pillows.

“Shhh,” a voice coos.

“No,” I moan, my thoughts doused with exhaustion. Hope infuses my heart. Has he come back? My monster. Wildness and vivid desire wrapped in the skin of a creature so beautiful it takes my breath away. With great effort, I turn my head to see a figure at the side of my bed, certain Shemaiah will be there, and this time he’ll stay. I want to ease his discomfort, feed his hunger, even though I know it’s a bad idea. But it’s not him in my room. Someone stands beside my bed, clothed in a long white robe and a white mask with a pointed nose like the beak of a bird.

I open my mouth to scream, but the noise gets trapped.

“Shh,” the monster soothes.

“Just relax,” another voice says, this one more feminine than the first.

I can’t turn my head. Can’t move. I’m stuck. Blinking. My tongue caught in my throat.

The masked figure lifts my limp arm.

“Just relax and think of your son.”

Tobias.

My eyes shut. I remember the last time I saw him. My sweet boy, stacking blocks in The Sanatorium courtyard. The sun, perfectly warm. A peaceful feeling surrounds us and permeates my being as I watch him.

I’m calm. Happy.

Tobias laughs, and I recognize this is a gift. A deep sense of love washes over me. The sun makes his blond curls shine like a golden crown. My little prince. He smiles, his dimpled cheeks red from the heat. I should get him out of the sun.

My arm stings. I slap the inside of my elbow, looking for sunburn, but I can’t touch it. My other hand held out, caught in my son’s grip.

“It’s time to go inside, Toby.” I turn to find him, but he isn’t there. In his place, the masked monster.

“Toby!” I scream.

I dash down the long hall again, throwing myself against locked doors. “Tobias!”

I’m sinking, sinking, sinking into a hospital bed, where someone is weeping. I’m weeping.

“No!” I shoot straight up in bed, tears streaming down my face. My lungs heave for air, and my heartbeat thumps wildly in my ears. I press my hands against my body, covered in a nightshift, soaked with perspiration, and shiver.

A sliver of bright light pours into the room through a gap in the heavy curtains.

Roan Estate. I’m in my room at Roan Estate.

I heave deep breaths as I get my bearings.

None of it was real. None of it.

A nightmare.

For a few minutes, I let myself feel the crushing fear of those strange dreams. I bury my face in my pillow and cry for my boy, for myself, for all of it. Then I sniffle, wipe the tears, and leave the confines of bed, ready to face a new day. I throw open the curtains, putting the nightmare behind me, letting in the light.

Everything is better in the daylight.

I could stay in bed today. After what happened yesterday, I have a good reason, but I don’t want to. I can’t. The room is stifling. The nightmare, the vision of my son, only reinforces my need to find him. And Shemaiah. My heartbeat flutters, and effusive awareness rushes over my skin as I think about how he behaved last night. He was taller, though I couldn’t understand how since he’s tall to begin with. Normally a slender man with a compact build, his muscles threatened to tear the seams of his clothing. But more than anything, it had been his shiny coal eyes, completely black, and the fangs that had surprised me. Utterly feral.

I want to make sure he’s okay. That we’re okay.

We almost crossed a line last night. When he crawled onto my bed, I knew I wouldn’t stop him from taking anything he wanted. I was so wrapped up in the moment, I would have let him. But in the bright light of morning, I know better.