"How could you come here and attack me? How could you thinkyouhad a chance at winning?" Even Sylvia's voice seemed to be getting more and more distant. "You're pathetic. But now you'll find out what happens when you mess with real power.You'll learn…."
The voice was gone. There was only arushingnoise in anendless blackness.
Miles, Maggie thought. I'm sorry….Then she stopped thinking at all.
Maggie was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, and that was strange enough, but what was even stranger was the fact that she knew it wasn'tan ordinary dream.
This was something…that came from outside her, that was being … sent. Some deep part ofher mind fumbled for the proper words, seethingwith frustration, even while the normal part of her was busy staring around her and being afraid.
Mist. Mist everywhere, white tendrils that snakedgracefully across her vision and coiled around herlike genii that had just been let out of lamps. She had the feeling that there were dark shapes out inthe mist; she seemed to see them looming out of the corner of her eye, but as soon as she turned they were obscured again.
Gooseflesh rose on Maggie's arms. It wasn't justthe touch of the mist. There was a noise that madethe hairs on the back of her neck tingle. It was justat the threshold of hearing, distorted by distanceor something else, and it seemed to be calling overand over again, "Who are you?"
Give me a break,Maggie thought. She shook herhead hard to get rid of the prickly feeling on herneck. This is just way too…too Gothic.Do Ialways have corny dreams like this?
But the next moment something happened thatsent a new chill washing over her, this time oneof simple, everyday alarm. Something was comingthrough the mist, fast.
She turned, stiffening. And then, strangely, everything seemed to change at once.
The mist began to recede. She saw a figure, darkagainst it, nothing more than a silhouette at first.For just an instant she thought of Miles-but thethought was gone almost as quickly as it came. Itwas a boy, but a stranger, she could tell by theshape of him and the way he moved. He wasbreathing hard and calling in a desperate voice,"Where are you? Where are you?"
So that was it. Not "Whoare you," Maggiethought.
"Where are you? Maggie! Where are you?"
The sound of her own name startled her. Buteven as she drew in a sharp breath, he turned andsaw her.
And stopped short. The mist was almost gonenow and she could see his face. His expression wasone of wonder and relief and joy.
"Maggie," he whispered.