Page 7 of Watch Me Burn

The fireroars.

It rages, too, and all I can think is that the fire is coming out ofmebefore my brain shuts down, everything goes dark, and I start to fall while he just stands there, burning.

Even as I lose consciousness, the man’s howls of agony chase after me.

I’ve never beena vivid dreamer. When I wake up after having one, it’s more vibes than anything. The child therapist Aunt Maureen had me seeing for a while thought it had to do with me losing my parents so young. That part of my psyche wasdamaged when they died in a car crash, leaving three-year-old Bridget behind.

She was a quack, that one.

As I come to again, the echoes of an agonized scream bouncing around my skull, I hope like hell that maybe she was onto something, and it just took until I was twenty-nine to figure it out.

Because that had to be a dream right? I didn’t really get handcuffed by a stranger only to set him onfire… forget dream. It had to have been anightmare.

I’m on my belly. Something warns me against trying to wake up right now, almost as though I could fall asleep again and completely forget my bad dream. So I shift, ready to roll onto my side and snuggle into my pillow… and that’s when I sense the cool metal on both of my wrists, biting into my skin, keeping my achy arms tied behind my back.

Handcuffs. I’m still wearing handcuffs. Not just one, either, but a pair.

I’m caught. I’m alive, but I’m caught, and whatever that stranger with the scarf wanted with me, this isn’t my bed. I should’ve known that right away. The flat pillow beneath my nose smells clinical and musty, with a hint of an unfamiliar tang. The sheets are scratchy.

The cuffs weigh heavily on my hands.

He got me.

Fuck.

In my renewed sense of panic, I don’t just roll onto my side in a foolish bid to escape the damn cuffs. I keep turning and discover that the bed I’m on isn’t quite a bed. It’s a narrow cot that’s barely wider than I am. I rock and I roll right off of it.

I land with a grunt on my back, the metal digging painfully into my wrists. My arms feel like they’re about to twist right out of my sockets, too.

Through it all, I keep my eyes screwed shut because I’m really still holding onto the hope that this is one very vivid, very awful dream.

“Bridget!”

There goes that. At the familiar voice—and my name—my eyes spring open. I immediately clamp them shut again when the bright white light overhead sears my retinas, but at least I know now that I haven’t been thrown into some dank dungeon somewhere to rot.

I’m not alone, either.

CHAPTER 3

VAMPIRE

“Elise? Is that you?”

It takes a second to blink away the dark spots flashing in front of my vision. Keeping my eyes narrowed to slits, I lift my head, searching for her. I’d know her voice anywhere, even if I have no idea how she got mixed up in this mess, and I try to ignore the ache in my shoulders and my wrists as I try to push myself into a seated position.

“I’m right here. Let me help you.”

Elise is at my side before I can get my full vision back. Crouching down in her stiletto heels, she hooks her hand under my armpit. For a petite thing, she hefts me easily so that I’m standing on my feet again right next to her.

Shifting her hold to my bicep, she guides me back to the narrow cot. “Take a seat, Bridge. It’s probably better if you’re sitting now that you’re finally awake.”

Once she lets go of me, I shift my shoulder. “My hands are cuffed behind my back,” I tell her, as if she doesn’t already know.

Obviously, she does.

“I’m sorry. I argued against it when they let me down here, but they assured me that the silver wouldn’t hurt you. At thesame time, they didn’t want to risk you having use of your hands just yet.”

Right. Because I can createfirein my palms.

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