“Lugh!” I shouted. “Don’t you dare do this!”

Naturally, there was no response. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, so I stuck both hands out in front of me as I took a step.

It only took two steps before my hands encountered what felt like a stone wall. I tried to tell myself this was good news, that I’d found a way to orient myself in the darkness. I didn’t even come close to convincing myself.

Hand over hand, I followed that stone wall for about three more paces until I found a corner. I skimmed over the corner and continued following the wall, but my heart now beat like a frightened rabbit’s. I knew where I was, what Lugh had done to me.

My cell seemed to be maybe seven by seven, and completely barren. Cold, damp stone comprised the four walls, and cold, damp earth the floor. When I craned my neck upward, I saw a circular opening about two stories up. Pale blue moonlight filtered through the bars that blocked that opening, but it didn’t reach even halfway down the walls before it was swallowed by the dark.

Shivering, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You bastard,” I said, but I sounded as scared as I felt. I didn’t believe Lugh would leave me down here indefinitely. He was no doubt pissed at me for not letting him in voluntarily, but he was a lot better at letting go of his anger than I was. But even knowing my imprisonment was bound to be short-term, dread pooled in my gut, and my nerves vibrated as if I’d drunk about fifteen cups of coffee.

Unable to hold still, I started pounding on one wall with the flat of my hand.

“Lugh! Let me out of here!” Even the sound of my hand hitting the walls seemed to be swallowed by the darkness, and my voice sounded small and tinny. If this were a real place rather than a waking nightmare, the sound would have echoed.

My hand started to hurt from the abuse, so I kicked the wall instead, my voice rising and growing thinner as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

“Lugh!”

But there was no answer, and the walls stayed firm and solid. I flung myself across the cell to a different wall, pounding with my fist even though I knew I was bruising the hell out of my hand. The panic was taking on a life of its own, sucking the air from the depths of the oubliette, making my lungs work doubly hard.

The stone wall was rough and craggy, so I tried to climb it. Maybe if I were a seasoned rock climber, I would have been able to make it to the top. Probably not, though. And even if I had, the opening was barred.

As it was, all I managed to do was break my fingernails to the quick and throw more fuel onto the fire of my panic. Desperate to escape, I rammed my shoulder into the wall as if it were a door I was intent on breaking down. Of course, it didn’t budge, and the force of my charge caused me to bang my head for good measure.

The blow stunned me, and I staggered. My head spun, my knees weakened, and I collapsed to the cold, earthen floor.

I lay there on my back, staring up at the faint hint of light from above, wishing I would pass out, knowing I wouldn’t. Tears dripped from the corners of my eyes, sliding down my face into my ears. My whole body was drenched with sweat, and yet I shivered incessantly, my teeth chattering loudly in the otherwise oppressive silence.

How long would it take for me to go completely mad? Some hosts seemed to lose themselves within hours of taking on demons, but surely Lugh wouldn’t do that to me, wouldn’t destroy me so utterly in a fit of pique.

My heart seemed to stutter in my chest. What if Lugh had miscalculated? What if he thought I could stand this for a short period of time, but he was wrong? What if he tried to free me, but he couldn’t get me out? I could spend the rest of my life down here, alone in the dark.

Terror drove me to my feet once more, and, screaming like a maniac, I battered myself against the walls, not caring how much it hurt or how little good it seemed to do. When battering them didn’t work, I scrabbled at them with my jagged, broken fingernails, as if I could claw my way through solid stone.

Suddenly, my limbs went completely limp, and I crumpled to the ground once more.

When I fell, I curled myself into fetal position, desperate to escape the reality of my situation. If I’d had a blanket to pull over my head, I’d have done it.

The first hint that I was no longer in the oubliette was the distinctive crackling sound of fire. Then I noticed the smell of smoke in the air.

I forced my eyes open and found myself looking up at an unmarked police car, its bubble light streaking the scene with flashes of red. Adam moved into my line of vision, standing beside me to peer at my face.

“I’ll give you a hand up when you’re ready,” he said, and I could have sworn that was sympathy I saw on his face. “Take it slow.”

I closed my eyes again and sucked in a deep breath, but the smoke smell made me wish I hadn’t. From what I could tell, my real body was uninjured, despite all the damage I’d done to myself in the oubliette. I wasn’t even sweating or shivering, though my stomach wasn’t feeling too happy, and I felt like I could lie here for a week and be perfectly content not to move.

Letting out the deep breath, I opened my eyes and held out my hand. One corner of Adam’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin.

“Never one to take it slow, are you, love?”

My only answer was a soft snort. He took my hand and hauled me to my feet, steadying me when I swayed. In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens.

We were standing by the side of the road. A few yards from us, the guardrail was twisted and broken, and at the bottom of the embankment, a burning car lay wrapped around an old oak tree. A little past the gap in the guardrail sat my own car, its bumper dragging on the ground amidst a smattering of broken glass and streaks of burned rubber. Brian stood by the car, staring down at the fire below.

My stomach threatened to revolt, but I swallowed hard. “I gather my dad was ‘driving’ that car?” I said, jerking my chin toward the fire.

Adam nodded. “He must have fallen asleep at the wheel. He was in the wrong lane, and when Brian honked at him, he swerved and lost control of his car.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You were asleep in the passenger seat when it happened, so you didn’t see a thing.”

“Uh-huh.” The sirens were getting closer. “The fire trucks will be too late to save him?”

Adam put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, and I was so desperate for comfort that I didn’t object.

I watched Brian watch the flames below. He didn’t turn to look at me, though he must have known I was myself again. I couldn’t interpret the look on his face, though it most definitely wasn’t a happy one.

Had Lugh overpowered him and forced him to participate in my father’s murder? Or had Brian held me down with the sole purpose of letting Lugh win our battle and take over? If it was the latter, I didn’t know Brian as well as I thought I did.

The next hour or two passed in a blur. I could barely string two coherent thoughts together, so when I heard Brian describe the accident to the cops, all I could manage was to nod my agreement. When one of the cops started pushing me to tell him what I thought had happened, I kept repeating that I’d been asleep and hadn’t seen anything until he was finally convinced he wasn’t going to get anything out of me.

Brian came to stand beside me as we waited for permission to get the hell out of there. Neither of us looked at the other as he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a voice soft enough not to carry.

I didn’t ask him for what. I extricated my hand from his. “You killed my father.”