Carla sat up in bed, her head swimming. She looked around the moonlight room, a sense of panic rising up inside of her. She took a deep breath, then another, and she could slowly feel her heart rate dropping back to normal. She was pretty sure that when all of this was done with she would be having panic attacks for the next twenty years.
"You okay?" William's voice was still groggy with sleep.
"As good as good be." She smiled, looking down at him.
His pale skin seemed to glow silver in the moonlight, his eyes were just small little blips of reflected light in the semi-darkness of the room. She reached down and ran her hands through his hair, kissing his forehead.
"You don't have to be scared. I'm here." He laughed, pulling her close.
She enjoyed the feeling of his warmth, his strength. It did make her feel safer, if only a little bit. The reality was that William was human, just like she was. He could be hurt, he could bleed, and he could die, just like she could. He could also fail her and abandon her, just like so many people had before him.
She pushed those thoughts aside. They weren't going to do her any good. Not now. She had to focus on one thing, and one thing only, getting the hell away from the Black Rose Society.
"Where'd ya go?" He looked her in the eyes.
"Nowhere important." She kissed the tip of his nose.
The sound of something shuffling, moving across the floor stopped Carla cold. Her body locked up.
"What was..." William wasn't allowed to finish his sentence. Carla placed her hand over his mouth quickly.
She was half tempted to pull the covers up, to cover herself like she did when she was a little kid. The monster under the bed couldn't get you under the covers. Sadly, this monster could.
Her eyes glanced around the room. What she could see was just empty space, but there were so many shadows that she couldn't be sure. Then she heard it again. The shuffling sound, this time moving closer to the bed.
She moved quickly, reaching over to the nightstand, flipping on the lamp, filling the room with light.
She got a brief view of her attacker, an older woman, probably in her late sixties, with grey hair and a creased face. Her mouth was open, but not in a scream. No, the woman was laughing, a raspy, dry, horrible laugh. The woman lept at the bed.
William shouted, kicking out, his foot connecting with the woman's stomach. She let out a gasp of air, her dentures flying from between her lips and splattering onto the hard wood floor. The woman collapsed on the mattress, her hands around her stomach. She was rocking back and forth.
"You bastard." The woman's voice gave away years of smoking. "She'll get you. She'll get both of you."
William looked at her, and then kicked out again, the heel of his foot connecting with the woman's head. She flew off the bed, landing hard on the floor, her skull connecting with the wood with a loud crack.
Carla got up, glancing over the edge of the bed.
"I think you killed her." She could see that the old woman wasn't moving, and a small pool of blood was forming by the side of her head.
"Come on." William grabbed her arm, yanking her off of the bed, towards the doorway that led to the hall.
William flung open the bedroom door and froze. Carla's gaze was still focused on the old woman, not moving, and from what she could see, not breathing. She finally looked at the door when she felt William's hand squeeze hers.
Carla turned her head, and screamed. Standing there in nothing but a black robe was the woman she had seen in so many pictures, in the library, and now in the doorway to the bedroom. There was Moira Clawson.
Carla didn't have time to do do much else. There was a shriek, and Carla felt something collide with the back of her head, and then the room went dark.
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