Vivienne had been that girl. Diana as well, probably. Most archaeology and history professors had been that girl. Vivienne had always been clever, but in truth, it had been her work ethic and sense of urgency that put her ahead of her colleagues.
She tucked the tests in her bag, then reached for her laptop to close it. She’d been analyzing remote sensing data from her last field project in Egypt and she was just flying through it. Normally she struggled with learning a new program for analyzing data, but this one had been a breeze. Her colleagues had been complaining about the interface all summer as they’d gathered the data, but for some reason Vivienne was having no problems.
It was the weirdest thing, but she was reading exponentially faster, too. And grading tests faster. She was just getting smarter in general. She’d considered talking to Diana about it, especially with all the crazy stuff that had been happening to her friend. But she was just too scared. What if she had a tumor? Sure, she was leaping to the worst possible conclusions, but she couldn’t help it. And ignoring it meant that it wasn’t real. Right?
A disgusted sigh escaped her as she tucked the laptop into her bag. She swung the bag onto her shoulder and headed for the door, wondering about Diana. A text from Diana had arrived a couple of days ago. It hadn’t been long, just a note that she was safe.
Hopefully she’d figure out what was going on and be back soon. Her department would figure out that Diana wasn’t teaching her classes and then they’d really have to do some fast talking.
It was crazy, though, what had happened to Diana. Vivienne believed her, of course. Not just because she was her friend and one of the most rational people she’d ever met. She’d been raised by her father to believe that all wasn’t as it seemed. He’d been an Egyptologist too, and one year while on a project in Egypt, he’d met Vivienne’s mother. Vivienne had showed up ten months later, though her mother had died in childbirth. Her father had tried to make her mother seem real to her by sharing the fairy tales and myths of her culture. Ever since she was a little girl, Vivienne had felt a strong affinity for them.
But she almost wished now that she hadn’t believed Diana. Hallucinations were definitely better than what had happened to her. God, she hoped she got out of this safely.
Vivienne flicked the light switch as she stepped out into the dim hallway of the history building. The test had run a bit over, so it was after seven. Across the hall, waiting right near the building’s main exit, a tall figure leaned against the wall. A long leather coat hung off incredibly slim shoulders and a wide-brimmed hat shielded a face that was tilted toward the ground.
Before she could take another step, the head rose. Eerie features, sharp and almost birdlike, glanced up at her and back down. Vivienne’s heart thrummed like a butterfly’s wings.
There was something wrong with the figure. She spun on her heel to hightail it toward the other exit. She had taken only a couple of steps down the linoleum-covered corridor when the chill-inducing sound of leaden footsteps sounded at her back. She picked up her pace, but hard arms gripped her from behind. The scream was crushed from her lungs.
“Not getting away this time, Diana,” the rough voice said in her ear.
Suddenly, all she could see was blackness and it felt like she was being thrown from a rollercoaster. She had no breath to gasp. Hard ground appeared beneath her feet and she opened her eyes, her stomach pitching when she saw three figures standing in front of her, all spindly and harsh-featured like the one who held her. Cold rain sprinkled her face.
She was in a city, and it wasn’t one she recognized. The buildings were all made of old gray stone or muted red brick, far older and larger than anything in Clayton. There were no people except for the monsters who held her.
“Got her,” the voice said from behind her.
Vivienne’s scream was cut off by a blow to the head. A flash of pain, then unconsciousness.
Chapter 15
The screams of dying men and terrified horses echoed in her ears as she glared at the boy cowering at her feet. She’d cut through dozens of men on the battlefield to reach him. Now that she had, victory and vengeance sang through her. Finally.
She raised her sword and brought it slicing down across his neck.
Diana shot awake as if she’d been plunged into a vat of freezing water. She gasped and pressed her hand to her stomach, struggling to keep from throwing up.
Oh God. It had been the worst dream yet. Fragments swam in the corners of her mind, too vivid for her sanity. She lost the fight and ran to the bathroom.