Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 166

Chapter 166 Lisa: Fevers and Dreams

LISA

How long has it been?

A few days?

Weeks?

The sun should keep me oriented, but a fever gets me the first night I'm there.

The girl, Marisol, comes by every so often. Always with food. A few times with bowls filled with some noxious liquid that has my nostrils trying to close, avoiding the smell coming from within.

She's expressionless as she shoves it down my throat, and I'm too weak to fight her off.

It's medicine, I think.

I think that because I slowly get better after the third bowl.

In between moments of lucidity, I dream.

Normal life. Home. Mom and Dad.

Working with Ava at Beaniverse.

Flirting with that cute guy who accidentally wandered into our professor's Eng Lit class instead of some sort of philosophy class two doors down.

Cozy, happy dreams, of a place far from here.

An escape from the reality that chains me.

At some point the dreams turn from happy comfort to something uneasy and dark.

relax at our favorite café, sipping lattes and chatting. For a

then the

try to warn Ava, but my voice won't work. She keeps talking, oblivious, until

but no sound comes out. The shadow reaches for Ava, engulfing her, dragging her away as she kicks and struggles.

the turbulence. I reach for her hand

outside the windows is a

Impact.

Pain sears. Ava's hand

the last. Ava, drowning in a sea of blood. Ava, burning alive. Ava, torn apart by unseen monsters. And always, I'm helpless to save

I can't wake up. The horrors play out again and again, an

finally, mercifully, I do

limbs heavy and weak. Marisol kneels beside me, holding a bowl of that foul-smelling

commands, tipping

bitter liquid hits my tongue, but I force myself to

"How often has the Master fed from you?" she asks, her

surprised by the question. "Just once," I rasp out, wincing at the

"Only once?" She shakes her head. "The withdrawal shouldn't be this strong, not for a single

tone, an undercurrent of emotion I can't quite place.

"He must favor you greatly,

might favor me fills me

room, her lips moving but

the energy to engage with Marisol's odd behavior. My body aches, my mind feels fuzzy, and all

discomfort. Marisol crouches next to me again, her hands prodding at my skin with

not sure what she's doing. Her fingers press against my neck, my wrists, my ankles.

I rasp out, my voice rough

strange intensity. "Only once," she repeats, as if tasting the words. "But the withdrawal... it's so

to respond to that. The memory of his fangs sinking, the agonizing pain, and the sickening

trying to push

on them as she

eyes never leaving mine.

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