The veil of night covers the cemetery on the side of the house. The ancient trees are like the bones of fingers reaching for the silver clouds in the sky. I don't remember why I chose to come out here. It's the last place I thought about visiting after what happened on my first night in the house. The tombstones with crosses adorning the top and life-size statues of angels with massive wings give me the creeps. There are too many places to hide.

I turn on my heels and pick up my steps, hurrying toward the manor. This isn't a safe place for me. Things are lurking in the darkness, creatures I know little about. Beings that want to kill me.

The snap of a twig is like a shotgun in the silence. Despite the risk, I set into a jog. The consequences of running without my inhaler handy are deadly. But I feel eyes searing into my back. My assumption is confirmed when pounding feet chase after me, out of sync with my pace.

But I remember what I told Elias earlier...I want him to chase me. Maybe it's him behind me. He said he'd do it when it was dark out. Maybe he woke me up to have a little fun and I was just so sleepy I don't remember. That's a little odd; normally I would remember waking up, but who knows on this island?

I slow my steps just a bit, glancing behind me one more time. As I suspected, the figure behind me is very Elias-shaped, and when I turn back to face where I'm headed, a smile is spreading over my face.

I duck behind a tall tombstone and press my back against it, waiting it out. I'm certain he saw me, and in a moment, he'll swing around this concrete wall and pounce on me.

And isn't that what I wanted?

"Come on out, little dreamer. I want to play," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends chills down my spine.

My heart pounds against my ribs and my breaths become shallow. He sounds so dangerous. Of course, he is dangerous. The man isn't a man at all. He is a hunter...a creature that lusts for blood. My blood. He wants to sink his sharp fangs into my delicate skin. My legs squeeze together in an attempt to subside the dull ache between them.

I don't want to come out and make this easy for him though. I want him to find me. I sink down into the grass, but a twig snaps under my butt, and the sound echoes through the empty cemetery. Shit.

"It appears we are playing," he says over the sound of crunching leaves under his feet.

I hold my breath as he moves closer, clenching my eyes shut like he won't find me if I can't see him.

"What is it you pictured, Delia? Am I the big, bad wolf and you're the innocent girl with a basket of muffins for her grandmother? Perhaps I'm the cat and you're the mouse?" Several beats pass without any sound. It is like the entire world has been placed on pause. He appears beside me, crouched to my level. "Or maybe we should just keep it simple, my pretty prey."

He doesn't give me a chance to respond, his large hand reaching for my throat. I scramble to the side, kicking my feet before getting them under me. I bolt through the graveyard, zig-zagging to avoid the headstones.

I'm no match for his speed, though. He's on me in what feels like an instant, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me against him, my back to his hard chest.

"Why are you running from me? I thought you wanted me to catch you, coelhinha? Is that no longer the case?"

"Yes, I do," I breathe, writhing against him. "I just didn't expect it to happen tonight, that's all."

"I stalk you every night. You just don't know it. I've had my eyes on you since the moment you set foot in this house."

"You did?" I ask, fear giving my question a child-like quality. He did seem amused by me the first night, but I never considered it being more than normal curiosity until the night in the pool.

"That turns you on to know I've had my eyes on you and only you, doesn't it?"

I swallow and chew on my bottom lip, slowing my movements until I am still in his arms and he spins me around to face him. I look up into his face and study him as I consider my answer.

I know I should say no. Because him using the word "stalk" should freak me out. Self-preservation says I should tell him to leave me alone, that I will find another place to stay, but isn't this part of the game? And it does turn me on to know that he has been so taken with me since the beginning.

"Yes," I breathe, finding he's let go of me now that we're lost in each other's gazes, and I lift my hand to his cheek, tracing his chiseled jawline. "It does."

"I'm coming for you, Delia. You will be mine in the end."

I open my mouth to tell him I'd very much like that, but I don't get the chance. He vanishes, leaving me alone in the cemetery. Despite the warm temperatures during the day, I'm suddenly freezing without his warmth. I twirl in a slow circle searching for him among the trees and headstones. But he is gone.

With the sad understanding that our game is over, I turn to leave the cemetery. I don't make it a step before a shrill scream fills my senses. My body jolts forward, but instead of running, I spring up in bed.

Elias lays peacefully at my side, and I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my scream. My ears perk, listening for any sign that the sound didn't come from me.

Footsteps pound down the hall accompanied by hasty conversation. I grip Elias's shoulder, ready to shake him awake. When I look down, I find him staring up at me while he listens to the commotion outside.

"What is happening?" I whisper.

"I don't know, but it can't be good." He throws the blankets off his body and gets to his feet.

I run after him, grabbing a shirt he left draped over the back of a chair. The soft cotton falls to my knees covering my skimpy night clothes. We race out into the hallway where more singles are pouring from their rooms. It doesn't take us long to find what has everyone in an uproar.

I grip the banister that looks over the foyer. My stomach flips inside out from the horrendous scene before me. Hanging from the chandelier with a rope around his neck is the troll I named Hot Blond Guy. He swings back and forth like an ornament hanging from a Christmas tree. His glamour has faded away. His skin a gray scaley hue and his eyes...They are round and black without the spark of life I saw in them before. It is horrific...brutal. But it is the message written on his broad chest with the sharp end of a knife that makes me sick. Each word carved in jagged capital letters: I'M COMING FOR YOU.

"Oh, no no no," I mutter, clapping my hand over my mouth, truly afraid I'm going to throw up onto the marble floor twenty feet below us.

Turning away, I collide with Elias, and he wraps his arms around me. For a split second, I'm relieved to be near him, but then I have a second, terrifying thought that I hate myself for having, but...I can't stop myself from considering. 

Did Elias have something to do with this?

Stepping out of his embrace, I look up at him and inhale sharply, finding that I'm a little short of breath. "I—I need my inhaler. I'm going back to the room." I take a step away from him and back toward the hallway.

"I'll come with you," he says immediately, following close behind.

"No," I say quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, no, you should see if you can find out anything else about what happened. I'm not having an attack. I'm just a little short of breath, that's all."

His face hardens and he shakes his head once. "If you think I'm going to let you walk another step without me after someone's just been fileted and hung from a chandelier...you've missed a couple conversations here," he says, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me close.

Swallowing hard, I nod. "Okay. Fair enough."

On the short walk back to the room, I try to talk myself out of the notion that Elias had a damn thing to do with Hot Blond Guy's death.

But here's what gets me: I'd just woken up from a dream in which Elias was being pretty fucking creepy. And the last thing he said to me was, "I'm coming for you." And that's what was carved on the deceased's chest?

That can't be a coincidence. Not with what we know about my dreams.

And Elias wasn't dreaming with me when I woke up.

This has to mean something.

When we get back to our room, I snatch my inhaler from my nightstand and take a puff, sinking down onto the bed and leaning back on the headboard, trying to think straight, figure out where the hell to go from here.

I don't know a lot about being a Dreamwalker, but I do know that Elias and I have met in my dreams more than once. Why am I trying to convince myself otherwise? Maybe it's because the math ain't mathing. Or is it mathing too well? 

The only thing I'm sure of is that this house isn't safe. It doesn't matter where or who I'm with. There is a killer on the loose, and I very well could be sharing a room with him.