That night, the lamps were put out and the heavy blackout blinds were closed. Jeanne’s hair was loose and unbraided. She was lying still in the cavernous dark, unable to see walls or door or boundaries. Lightless, the only things that were solid and concrete were the things she touched at the moment.
Tonight the dreams would be different, she thought as her eyes closed.
Then she wasn’t alone. It was still dark but a grayish sort, as if the room were half-illuminated from a corner of window; shadows and depth still coated the room in draperies. Someone warm was lying next to her, smiling faintly as she faced Jeanne.
“Jericho!”
The cry was a clarion bell, echoing in that grey-green, obscured world. Jeanne surged forward and wrapped her arms around the neck of the creature in front of he
