Cursed by the Fountain of Youth

Chapter 18

Fae awoke shivering. Cold seeped through her damp clothes and permeated into her bones. She couldn't complain too strenuously. Not only did it help her to realize she was still alive, it also dulled the pain. She hurt in so many different places, she felt like one large open wound. Usually, she healed quickly, but this time, she wasn't recovering. Maybe her loss of blood had something to do with that.

Her eyes blinked open, and she could see that faint light she'd seen before. After fruitless searching, she had to admit there was no logical place it could be coming from.

"You're awake."

Fae jerked—her eyes wide. She was hearing voices again. She struggled to push herself off the floor. Weakness overwhelmed her.

Looking around the room, she sucked in a startled breath. In the corner of the room, a faint flicker of an image materialized out of her imagination. It was a young woman. Fae couldn't see her clearly. She could only make out her general shape, but then the figure raised her eyes—eyes that Fae could see clear as day.

"Who are you?" Fae whispered, afraid she would disturb the spirit.

"My name is Dolores." The woman's answer blew across Fae's skin, bringing with it the faint smell of perfume.

Fae swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. She'd never believed in ghosts. But here she was, talking to one. Opening her eyes, she frowned, disappointed to see the woman remained.

"Why are you here?" Fae asked.

"There's no way out."

"You're a ghost," Fae muttered. "You can move through walls."

Confusion passed over the ghostly countenance. Then she blinked—her eyes taking on a far-off look. "They didn't find you."

"Who?" Fae's heart sped up. "Who didn't find me?"

"They came for you."

"Who? Who are you talking about?"

Dolores's image began to fade as sadness darkened her countenance.

"No!" Fae shouted. "Don't leave. I need to know who came."

Seconds later, Fae sat in complete darkness. The sound of dripping water tormented her through the opening in the wall. Soon, her thirst would drive her to squeeze back through—if she even had the strength to. She blinked back tears. Gently pressing on the open abrasions on her hips, her fingers came away dripping wet. Those scrapes should have healed by now—yet they hadn't. She oozed blood from more places than she could count.

"Nick," she said, wishing desperately that he could hear her. "Please don't give up on me. You've got to find me." Her voice broke and tears began to fall.

"Please."