Page 81 of Fatality

Great, just great.

“Panel off.” I order.

Instantly, the screen goes dark, plunging the loft into darkness save for the city's neon lights filtering through the windows, casting shifting colors across the brick walls and exposed beams.

I let out a shaky breath and rub my eyes.

I don't remember what I was dreaming about, but I'm sure it was creepy.

I have that awful feeling you get after waking from a nightmare. A knot twisted deep in my stomach, leaving me nauseous and uneasy for no reason I can name.

I push myself off the couch and head for the fridge, looking for something to drink.

Probably water or wine, if I still have that sweet white wine from the vineyard district of Kairo-9.

It's light and fruity, the kind of wine that's far too easy to drink.

I don't know how many times Jules, Charlie, and I ended up with our heads over a toilet, sink, or shower drain because we drank it like it was juice.

That's the trap. The sweetness fools your brain and your taste buds. You start thinking there can't possibly be any alcohol in it.

But it's definitely there.

I look inside, no wine.

I'm almost disappointed because that fucking knot in my stomach refuses to go away.

If anything, it's getting worse, making me feel even more paranoid because I'm alone in my loft.

Not that I'm easily scared.

I get startled when something catches me by surprise. But genuinely scared? That's not easy.

Except for spiders, spiders creep me the fuck out.

Something about the eight legs and the way they move so damn fast makes my skin crawl. Give me a two-hundred-pound man twice my size who's about to tear me apart—I won't pretend I wouldn't piss myself—or a horror movie marathon, and I'll manage.

A spider the size of my thumb? Absolutely fucking not.

I decide to go for the booze anyway, it's probably two in the morning and I don't care.

Right now, I don't want to think about the time.

I want to relax.

I crack open a beer and take a long sip, nearly draining half the bottle in one go.

A contented sigh escapes me as the cold liquid slides down my throat.

Much better.

I lean my hip against the kitchen island and keep sipping my beer, but that knot in my stomach refuses to disappear.

No matter how much I try to relax, it's like a leech--or a vampire--Slowly sucking you dry while you try to sleep.

Though, to be fair, I probably wouldn't mind a sexy vampire sucking me dry, turning me, then spending eternity together.

I shake my head.