A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(20)

It wasn’t long before the rocking ship lulled me to sleep.

It was a dream. I knew it was a dream—I’d had it so many times before—and as always, I was terrified it would end.

Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Smelling of machines and forest, tasting of salt. His lips pressed to my neck, his hand on my waist.

My hand—my right hand—pushed against his stomach, and my left scratched his back. My eyelids fluttered open, and I pulled back slightly. A yellow streetlamp shone on his sandy hair and sun-roughened skin.

“Empress,” he whispered. His lips locked back on mine, and I sank into the embrace.

Then, as always happened no matter how hard I clung to the kiss, the dream shifted.

Daniel sat at the edge of my hospital bed, his face cast in shadow. My wrist ached—my hand having recently been amputated—and was wrapped tightly in a bandage. My heart was cracking right down the middle, yet as long as I focused on my hand, on the laudanum pumping through me, I could keep going.

“You’re not in love with me, are you.” I spoke it as a statement and tried to ignore my pounding heart.

He twisted his head away. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s a yes or no.”

“Then . . .” He set his cap on his head. “Then no. No, I’m not.”

A howl burst through the night.

Daniel’s head shot up. For a single breath, all was silent and still.

Then the howl came again. This was not part of the dream, I knew.

Daniel lunged at me. “Run!”

At that instant a wind broke through the open hospital window, as loud as a locomotive and filled with angry baying.

Daniel yanked me up. My bare feet landed on cold tile. “Run!” he roared, but when I glanced at him, I found someone else entirely.

Clarence Wilcox, dressed in an evening suit just as I’d seen him last. “You have to go!” He grabbed my elbow and pulled me into a sprint. We bolted for the hospital’s hallway.

No, now it was the ship’s hall. We were racing toward the main stairwell, red carpet underfoot.

And the boat rocked, fighting me.

“Faster, Eleanor! Faster!”

Another hand grabbed me from the other side. I choked at the sight of Elijah, filthy and huge—just as he had been before he died.

“Go!” he screamed, and suddenly we were racing twice as fast. My legs spun like wheels, but still

I could barely keep up with the two young men.

“Don’t stop,” Clarence shouted. “They’re almost here!”

The hallway blurred, shifting like paint into a murky, gray landscape. Barren, endless, this world was only broken by pinpricks of light across the sky.

Our feet pounded on wooden slats, and I realized with horror that we were on a rickety dock.

Splinters sliced into my bare soles, and a wind beat at us from behind. My nightgown whipped up into my face.

The howling of the dogs was deafening.

“We’re too late,” Clarence cried.

“Just keep going,” Elijah urged. Then he and Clarence released me, and they both fell back.

Somehow I pushed on. Ahead, a golden glow beckoned to me, growing closer and closer. I ran and ran and—

The wind shoved me. I flew forward onto my chest. My face slammed into the gray dock, and the roaring hounds swallowed everything. I tried to scrabble to my feet, but the moment I lifted my face, the howling stopped.

And I froze.

The dogs were there. Four of them, lips drawn back and fangs bared.

They were huge—bigger than me, bigger than a horse. Hulking, black, and with eyes of sun-bright yellow.

Eyes that were locked on me.

“Eleanor! Wake up!” I heard the voice, distant and dim.

I was shaking. Someone was shaking me.

“Wake up, El—wake up!”

And I knew that voice. This dock was a dream.

The moment the realization hit, the world winked out of existence. My eyelids popped open. I was staring at polished tan wood. The air was frigid.

“Eleanor, please wake up!”

I lifted my head, dazed, and found Oliver crouched over me.

“Where am I?” I tried to sit up, and he helped me rise.

“You’re on the bloody promenade deck—you almost walked off the edge.”

My eyes widened, and the contents of my stomach rose into my throat—because Oliver was right.

Three feet from my face was the railing.

And beyond that was the roiling, gray sea.

Somehow, I had sleepwalked onto the deck.

Oliver gasped. “Oh no.”

I wrenched my face toward him. “What?” In the swaying electric lights, his eyes were shining and his face was pink.

“Your . . . your face,” he said. “And your dress.”

“What do you mean?” I lowered my gaze. My nightgown was ripped to shreds. “Oh God.” I wrapped my arms around myself.

Then I realized who knelt beside me, and my eyes jerked back to his face. “Get away from me—I warned you!” I tried to scuttle back.

His jaw fell. “But I just saved your life!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Hell Hounds, El. Didn’t you see them?”

My throat clenched shut. I stopped crawling. The Hell Hounds. The dogs from my dream. “H-how do you know about them?”