Chapter Twenty-TwoApparently, the world just could not go on without me after all.
I was dreaming of walking Hadrian’s Wall with Lucius Septimius Severus Augustus when someone began shaking my shoulder. I was out of bed in a flash and had the man on the ground with my hand about his throat before my sleep deprived brain caught up with my actions and I realised a murderer would likely not be trying to politely wake me.
Under my hand was a wide-eyed Abraham Stoker. Helping the man back to his feet, I offered him a feeble apology.
‘I thought I was going to die,’ Stoker said as he rubbed his throat and drank the glass of water I handed him.
I turned and tossed my scattered sheets and pillows back on the bed and, finding I had once more gone to bed fully clothed, joined my visitor at the ro
