BENEDICT
The icy slap of water hit my face like a freight train, shocking my system out of a deep, black sleep.
I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air, slicking dripping dark hair back off my forehead. Standing at the foot of my king-sized mattress was Aunt Chloe, holding a broad-rimmed crystal pitcher and grinning at me like a cat that just ate a canary.
"Good morning, sunshine," she chirped, resting one hand on her hip while adjusting the silk lapel of her robe with the other. "Welcome to the land of darkness and early mornings."
I wiped a sleeve over my dripping face, sinking back against the soaked pillows with a groaning sigh. "Aunt Chloe. It’s... what time is it?"
"Eight-thirty," she said smoothly, placing the pitcher down on the nightstand with a delicate clink. "Your
