I’m not awake, but I’m also not in a dream. I’m in some sluggish middle ground, trapped in my own body.
Then I feel a hand around mine.
His name rises through the muddy waters of my mind before I realize the hand is smooth and small. Nothing like the work-roughened, large hands I know.
“Cora?” a soft voice says.
I struggle against my heavy lids.
“You’re okay,” she reassures me. “You’re okay. Just take your time.”
I lie back and let myself come awake piece by piece. I shake my feet and hands. I take stock of my breathing with deep inhales and exhales to ease the nervous fluttering of my heart.
Finally, I peel my eyes open.
I hiss like a vampire when a beam of light stabs me directly in the eyeballs.
“Oh, s**t!” Anya yelps. “Sorry about the window.”
She drops my hand and scurries a
