Song Remains the Same

Chapter 47: Lay Me Down to Sleep

"It was pride that changed the angels into devils."
- Saint Augustine

Alex remembered jolting awake as glass shattered and wind roared. She'd rolled out of bed reacting on instinct, reaching for the gun under her pillow—then been ripped away from the motel room completely. Like a little leaf caught in a gale force, spinning out of control into an endless abyss, not sure which direction was up or down or what was happening at all but now... now everything was still and dark.

She felt like she was in a waking, drugged-up dream—her eyes were barely able to focus as they blinked open blearily. There was a feeling that her body was moving faster or maybe it was slower than her mind was, like she was out of sync with herself. She realized she was tied to something with no access to her hands. Her head sagged toward her chest and she struggled to raise it—she ached all over like she'd collided with a hard surface several times. But—she hadn't—had she? She must have. She could feel cuts and scrapes on her bare arms and the back of her head was pounding where there'd been impact. Son of a bitch it hurt.

Alex struggled to hold her head up, survival instincts telling her to focus, focus. She quickly took inventory of herself: arms behind her and tied tightly to what felt like a small metal pole. Beneath her was a cold cement floor. Her legs sprawled out in front of her and one felt broken. Her eyes were too cloudy to make out much more. She blinked several times over, squinting as she realized her hearing was off—everything sounded muffled and tinny.

What had happened? She couldn't remember a damn thing. The world was flickering, making her feel drunk and stupid. It was probably someone looking for revenge who had brought her here—she hadn't exactly made many friends this past year...

Her eyes regained some ability and she was able to see that she was in a warehouse... but it kept changing—through a dirty window not far away, Alex could see sunlight. From the angle of light, it looked like it was late afternoon—but then it changed and it looked more like early morning, then it was abruptly night, then it was daylight again and raining, then sunny again, then windy and snowy—like she was leapfrogging through time. And then Alex noticed the warehouse changed too every time the outside changed—the interior was decrepit and rusted then nicer and newer, then dirty and abandoned looking, then clean and brand new, then old again. It kept changing and changing and changing and Alex felt sick, distorted, and off balance. Her vision blurred again and she tried to shake her head, but she was slow as a slug and could barely manage to blink. She heard echoing footsteps and tried to look up and see who it was. But her muscles were stiff and uncoordinated. She couldn't quite manage to turn her head.

A tall, lithe young woman walked to stand in front of Alex. She was intensely beautiful with piercing eyes and striking youthful features and hair that was pulled away from her face tightly. Alex felt a sense of recognition, even though she was very convinced that she'd never seen this person before. The stranger's arms were folded across herself in a mistrustful, cautious posture and she was dressed in a shimmering jet-black top, expensive black slacks, and pointed black heels. Expensive diamond earrings hung from her ears. By all appearances, she was ready for some elegant event and Alex was mystified. Was she a demon? Monster? Maybe a skinwalker? The woman arched an artfully penciled eyebrow down at Alex, who attempted to speak, but it was like trying to talk through a mouthful of sludge—she felt like she'd been put on slow motion. "Who... are?" she managed thickly. No other words came, it was too tiring and monumental.

The woman's eyes narrowed just slightly. "We've been over this, Alex," she said in a low voice that was surprisingly girlish and rasping at the same time. Something about the voice felt familiar. "When you attempted quite foolishly to kill me a few minutes ago?"