he breath from her lungs, but the pain felt distant, m
of wet sand. The blue light from the television screen flickered a
seemed to echo inside her skull. The sedatives weren't just putting her to sleep; they were
d no relief. Instead, her consciousness plum
ed by the heavy, oppressive scent of aged whiskey and Cuban ci
r sanctum of Langley Manor. The private study of G
She could only watch as the hallucina
his leather chair. He was clutching his chest, his face contorted in absolut
th caught i
udden, massive heart attack. It was the event that had
't tell which- played, a dark, shadowy fig
n suffer. Gaston reached a trembling hand out toward
ure reached across the desk and picked up a
wn and whispered something
den in sheer terror. His body seized violent
ate to grab the shadowy figure, to see
assed throu
was instantly back on the floor of her bedroom, g
ck, staring at the cei
patriarch hadn't just died; he had been removed. And if she could prove it, if she could
embling hand toward her pocket, feeling the solid, reassuring shape of her p
e dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to u
crept into the edges of her v
slipped away, the darkness morphed. It wasn't a peaceful sleep. It was
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