16Thankfully, I’d already showered and dressed by the time the knock on my door came at eight a.m.
“Nine a.m. . . . not eight a.m. . . .” I mumbled into the bathroom mirror as I put a light coat of mascara on my lashes. It had been an emotional and perplexing night on so many levels, and I found myself still in a peculiar state of being.
Residual feelings from that nightmare, the meaning of which had me baffled, still clung to me.
My dreams had become so inexplicable and seemed to be leaving me with nearly as many questions as I had popping up in my day life.
First, what the hell were the Dark Ones, and why was I dreaming of them? What was the something dark on its way? It was more than just a dream. There was a sense of that deep down, clear in my bones.
Second, had I been speaking S
