Dead By Dusk

"I dreamed I was there," he told her, aware that she had come, that she was watching him.



"You—have been there," she reminded him.



He shook his head, and strangely, looked at his hands.



"No… I heard the screams, the clang of steel… I was watching a battle through the eyes of someone there. I felt the rush of a horse beneath, the weight of chain mail and armor… I…" He turned and stared at her. "I saw the demon dogs."



She was silent for a minute, then said, "Maybe it was a very natural dream. We were up for hours and hours, listening to things so fantastic, that even now, with just a few hours sleep, seem to be impossible.



But the events all those centuries ago were what we were talking about, right before we went to sleep.



Your dream was… normal, I think."



"It was in vivid color. I could smell the blood, feel the steel. I was looking through a visor… and it limited the field of vision. I was fighting, and somehow… I was learning as I went along. Learning how to fight. Not how to fight men—I seemed to know that. I could feel the ache in my muscles as I swung a sword. But the dogs… they had to lose their heads, or they wouldn't stay down."



She came and put a hand on his arm. "It was a dream, Grant. I was next to you. It was worse, though, than any that you had before, back home, in the States," she said. She stepped around, standing in front of him, seeking his eyes. "You were with me, all along. It was a dream. I was next to you. I have to make a real, concerted effort to wake you up from now on."



He shook his head slowly. "I hate it. I'm—I'm afraid of it. But don't wake me up. You can't wake me up because… I have to get to the end of it."



A real sense of fear suddenly filled her. "I—I don't think you should get to the end of it."



"I have to."



"Listen, a good psychologist or psychiatrist would find us fascinating subjects—and explain away a great deal, I'm certain. But I've heard things about dreams, and, of course, I don't know if they're true or not, but… I don't want you dreaming about this. Everyone died in those hills and tors that day. I don't want you to dream… that you die," she told him.



He smiled suddenly, and cupped the back of her head tenderly with his hand. "I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's almost like going back. Like being there. And I might be able to see the truth of what went on."



"Dreams are what we make of them!" she whispered.



He pulled her close. "Are you forgetting the wee hours of the day?" he asked huskily. Then he pulled away again. "We have a friend who's a vampire, remember? And, hey, his best friend is a werewolf."



"I haven't forgotten. It's just that now… after sleeping… the total absurdity of it all is coming home, and I don't know what I believe." She hesitated. "What do you believe?"



"I believe you're in danger. Maybe I'm in danger, too, but… Stephanie, if this horrid creature exists, and they're right, for some reason, he wants you."



"Grant, I promise you, I have no feeling at all about ever being in this area before. I love it here—well, I did love it, before people started… dying. Grant, I haven't been sick a day. The others have been sick.



Gema was the one taken."



"You need to call Reggie. You have a number for her, don't you?" Grant demanded.



"I have a cell number, of course. But she never answers. You've known me long enough to know how Reggie is," she reminded him.



"Call her. Tell her it's important that she call you back."



"Why?"



"Don't you at least want to know where she is?" he asked.



"Reggie is not the reincarnation or whatever of an evil witch!" Stephanie insisted.



"I repeat—don't you at least want to know where she is, and what she's doing? Try her cell. If we don't reach her, we'll talk to Arturo," Grant insisted. He kissed her forehead. "I'm going to get dressed. In my old clothes so I can go over to my place and get clean ones. Then… I think we should go check on Doug right away, what do you say?"



She nodded. "All right. I'll try to reach Reggie."



Reggie didn't answer when Stephanie dialed her cell number, but in a few minutes she called back.



"Darling, I know I've been just terrible about communication," Reggie told her, "but then you had this number, so I assumed that if you were having any problems, you'd call me. But I talked to Arturo. Such dreadful things are going on!"



"Yes," Stephanie said, feeling a little guilty. Grant had gone to his place to get clean clothing; if he'd been there, she'd be giving him a filthy look right now that said I told you so. But then, actually, Lucien had been the one convinced that there was something out of the ordinary with Reggie. "Did you know Maria Britto? And I don't know when you talked to Arturo last, but it seems that a body part left in front of Grant's doorway belonged to Gema Harris."



"I never met Maria, or even Gema," Reggie said. "Of course, I feel horrible. Just horrible. I hired Gema, so her death is certainly my fault."



"No, Reggie. It's the fault of the heinous person who did it to her," Stephanie said.



"She wouldn't have been here if I hadn't hired her, so… it is my fault. I'm in Belgium. I was getting together another tour group… there was supposed to be a group coming in from the U.K. on Tuesday, but I've managed to get them rescheduled. If they prove today that a piece of Gema's body has been discovered, why, of course, I intend to offer your actors severance pay, and give them the option to go home. Unless, of course, they can find this psychotic killer. When I first heard about Maria, they said she'd been killed by wild animals! Well, it's apparently an animal, all right. And I heard that Lena had gotten ill, but was better, and that Suzette had a bad day—and that Doug nearly died!"



"Doug is doing much better," Stephanie said. "Reggie… you didn't come in with the group from Germany the other night, did you?"



"Why on earth are you asking that?" Reggie asked.



"I could have sworn that I saw you."



"I told you, dear, I'm in Belgium."



"Yes… I know."



"What is Grant doing there? I thought you were so anxious to come to Italy to spend some time away from him!"



"He didn't know I was here. He came to be part of that dig."



"Ah, yes, the dig." Reggie sounded aggravated.



"Reggie, if they bring up some real historical treasures and set up some kind of a park, mapping a medieval battlefield, it will be spectacular for the region."



"I suppose. It's just that scientists are so dry. And cheap! Honestly, I know that we're talking Europe, and that service is included in a bill, but most people leave a few euros on the table! And they come in muddy! Never mind, Stephanie—with what I've heard, I want you to be careful. In fact, you should go home."



"I—I can't go home," Stephanie said faltering.



"Why not?"



Why not, indeed? She should just pick up and leave. Leave the resort, the terrible things happening, and stories about witches and vampires that were impossible to believe.



Leave a place where people became strangely ill, one after another. Where girls were supposedly killed by animals, but obviously buried by humans.



Here, body parts were discovered on doorsteps.



I can't leave, not now.



Her cast still remained, and still had hopes that the crimes could be solved, that the show—far more entertaining than they had dared hope—could have a long run.



That wasn't it. She couldn't leave because…



There were answers to be found here somewhere. And she didn't want to run away from Grant.



"I wouldn't leave while the others are still here, and I'm not sure they want to give it all up so quickly, Reggie. The town can't just give up—they have to solve what's going on here. We'll stick together. We'll be fine. When are you coming back?"



She could faintly hear Reggie's sigh over the distance. "Well, I've rescheduled a few groups, and I have to finish here, but I will be there as soon as I can get there." She was silent for a minute, but Stephanie was certain she was about to say something else. When she did, she sounded indignant. "Arturo has told me that there's a wild tale about a medieval witch, and the townspeople have whispered that things have started to go badly there because of me! I'm doing my best to help bring money into the area, and that's the thanks I get! If there's something going wrong, they need to look at the people who are digging up the past. This psycho is probably part of the scientific community that has come in!"



Stephanie hesitated, then knew there was no way she could possibly begin to explain that there was so much more going on than she had imagined! She could just envision herself trying to tell Reggie over the miles that one of the cast members was a fake, and that he claimed to be a vampire, a good vampire, aware of a terrible evil in the area, and searching for it himself. And that he was having trouble because his usual powers were blocked because there was a witch involved as well as a vampire.



She would sound as if she had gone certifiably insane herself.



"I hope you get here soon, Reggie," she said.



"As soon as I can, Steph. Poor dear! Who would have imagined that I would have done this to you!"



"You haven't done anything to me, Reggie," Stephanie assured her. "It's beautiful here, the show was great. What you intended was wonderful—and can still be. I'll let the cast know that we're going to be on hiatus until we get word from you."



"All right, dear. Naturally, they're welcome to stay—but they're also free to leave. They must do as they think best. And I will see you as soon as I can," Reggie said.