Chapter 27On the edge of panic, he lay for a long time staring up at the ceiling before he slowly began to remember who he was. The panic receded only partly as it took him almost as long to remember where he was.
The night had been a black and turbulent torrent, buffeting him between stark horror and manic elation. The high-pitched whine that had drawn him to the small opening in the wall had held him there, immobile, while it coiled itself through and around him until it was all he was. What he had been, all that had brought him to this point, was gone as if it had never happened. There was just the flickering darkness through which he was plunging, filled with the rich heady scent of prey. And their song — long and irresistibly alluring. Thoughts pervaded him that were incoherent and a
