Rachel popped her eyes open, and horror consumed her. She'd been struck down by an ax blow, and she had been sure it was a killing one. At least, without aid it would have been. But Rachel had a vague recollection of her attacker, then a silver-eyed man bending over her, telling her to rest and conserve her strength while he checked her wound. He had been similar in looks to the man who had haunted her dreams while she had the flu, but this man's hair had been dark where her dream man was blond.
Obviously, help had come. Rachel just wished her thoughts were a little less murky. While the memory of being brought down by the blow of an ax explained the pain in her chest, it didn't explain the pain through the rest of her body. It also didn't explain where she was. She really should be in a hospital. This definitely wasn't a hospital.
Rachel peered toward the blinds covering the windows. They glowed at the edges with a hint of the sunlight attempting to enter. It was obviously day out. She wished the blinds had been left open so she could perhaps figure out where she was.
Pushing aside the blankets that covered her, Rachel struggled to a sitting position, then peered down at herself. She was completely nude. That was interesting. She never slept in the nude, and hospitals generally put those awful gowns on. Well, this was a wrinkle, and she had no idea what to make of it.
She shifted restlessly on the bed, then glanced down curiously when something pulled at her arm. The sight of an IV near the crook of her elbow made her pause. Her gaze followed the clear tube leading from it to the bag hanging from the IV stand. The bag was deflated and empty, but a drop or two of liquid remained behind--enough for Rachel to recognize it as blood. She had obviously needed a transfusion.
The thought made her glance down at her chest again in search of her wound. She distinctly recalled the ax slamming into her body, yet there were no bandages, and no sign of injury other than a thin scar that marked her chest from her shoulder blade down to the top of one nipple. Her eyes widened incredulously on the scar, and she went still as its meaning struck her. Weeks, perhaps even months, had passed since the attack.
"Dear God," Rachel breathed. How long had she slept? Had she been in a coma? Was she in a special facility for coma cases? That was almost reassuring, until she recalled the promotion she had just got at work. If she had been in a coma for months, she might have lost the position to someone else. Hell, she had probably lost her job altogether. But then why the blood? she wondered, and glanced at the empty IV bag. She could understand the need for a transfusion directly after the attack, but if it had been months, surely she wouldn't need it again now?
Her mind awhirl with questions, Rachel tugged the tube free, leaving the IV itself in place in her arm, then slipped her feet off the bed and tried to stand. It took a great deal of effort to do. Once she had managed, Rachel stood weak and exhausted and gave her idea second thoughts. It was a very short thinking session. As much as her body seemed to want to crawl back into bed and rest and recuperate, it also yearned for something that bedrest couldn't give. She didn't know what it was, just that she had a hankering that needed fulfilling. Even if she had been able to ignore that hankering--though Rachel very much suspected she couldn't if she tried--her mind had a hankering as well. It wanted to know where the heck she was, along with what had happened to the man who attacked her, and whether the man on the steel table really had been alive as she had suspected, or if she had risked her life for a dead man.
It would be just her luck if she had suffered the wound, lost months of time to a coma, and now had a lovely scar for a dead man. Feeling a tad cranky, and strengthened by it, Rachel started for the door, then stopped suddenly as she recalled she was na**d. She could hardly walk around in the nude.
A check of the drawer in the nearest bedside table turned up nothing but a couple of books Rachel had already read. Someone had good taste, or at least taste similar to her own.
Her gaze slid around the shadowed room to the three doors leading out of it. There was one to her right along the wall the bed backed onto, and one straight ahead in the wall parallel to the bed, both of which were normal-sized doors. Directly across from the foot of the bed, however, was a double set of doors that were most likely to the closet. They seemed an awfully long distance away, and while Rachel was sure she could reach it, she would be embarrassed to be caught na**d halfway there. Besides, she had no guarantee that there would be clothes in it.
After a moment's thought, she tugged the bedsheet out from under the comforter and wrapped it around herself like a toga. Then she moved toward the door in the wall parallel to the bed, deeming it the one most likely to lead to a hall and some answers.
As she had hoped, the door led out into a hallway, but it definitely wasn't the hallway of a hospital. She appeared to be in a house--a rather well-decorated house. Her gaze drifted over the neutral earth tones of the hallway with appreciation. She had used the same colors in her apartment and found them warm and inviting.
But the decor wasn't her main concern at the moment, Rachel reminded herself. The room she had just left was at the end of the hall. Several doors led off the hallway that stretched before her, but there was no evidence of anyone else in attendance. Rachel shifted from one foot to the other in the doorway and considered what to do, but in the end there seemed little choice. She could either stay where she was and wait for someone to come to her, or she could seek out someone to get answers to her questions.
That hankering she was suffering decided for her. Rachel moved out of the door and made her way along the hall. She didn't think to check the doors she passed. The house was so silent, it seemed to scream of emptiness, at least on this floor.
Things didn't appear much more hopeful when she reached the landing. Peering down into the entry below, she frowned at the darkness and silence reaching up to her. Surely she wasn't alone in this house? Someone had to have been changing her IV bag.
Her legs were still a tad shaky, but Rachel was able to manage the stairs without incident, then she stood in the entry and peered about. Every window was covered. This part of the house was as shut against the sun as the bedroom. Rachel instinctively tried the knob of what appeared to be the front door but found it locked. It was an old-fashioned lock, needing a key to open. There was no key around, though she checked the table nearby.
Giving up on the door, Rachel started along the hall in search of someone, anyone, who could explain where she was. She passed unknown rooms full of darkness and shadow, but obviously empty of human inhabitants. At the end of the hall, she pushed open the door and found herself in what appeared to be a kitchen. There she paused and peered around at the dark shapes of a refrigerator, stove, table and chairs. She was about to back out of the room when she noted the soft glow of light coming from under a door on the opposite side.
Excitement coursed through Rachel at this first sign of someone besides herself being present. It was quickly followed by trepidation. But she pushed fear aside and moved to the door. It led to another stairwell, she noted with dismay when she opened it. There was a light on. Rachel hesitated on the landing, unsure what to do. Her strength seemed to be waning again, the cramps returning. It was like the flu, but more intense and pervasive of every portion of her body.
"Hello?" she called out hopefully.
Of course there was no answer. No one came rushing to explain or help. Rachel was creeping through a dark and empty house, trailing a sheet like some old-fashioned gown.
"I've stepped into a Gothic novel," she muttered to herself with amused disgust but couldn't laugh. It truly felt like she had. It made her suffer some pretty weird thoughts--like, perhaps she was dead and this was Hell. Or it could be Heaven. Rachel was relatively sure that she hadn't done anything in her life to land herself in Hell. Unless... Perhaps she hadn't got last rites. The priests said if you died without those...
Rachel pushed such depressing thoughts aside and started down the stairs. Better to know what she was dealing with than to not. Ignorance wasn't bliss.
She managed the stairs, though just barely. Pain and weakness were really setting in now. Her legs were almost rubbery with the combination by the time she descended the last step onto the carpeted basement floor. This can't be Hell, she decided as her feet sank into the plush carpeting. Surely Hell wasn't so well appointed.
Perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps she hadn't really woken up yet. That idea was a lot easier to accept. Rachel even liked it. It certainly beat the heck out of being dead. Dreams could be entertaining. As long as they didn't turn into nightmares.
Shrugging that disquieting thought aside, she allowed her gaze to slide over the doors available to her. The first door was open and revealed what appeared to be a laundry room in the bit of light that spilled from the hallway. The second door opened onto what turned out to be a wine cellar of all things. That left the third door, the only one with light spilling out from behind it.
Rachel took a deep bracing breath, then pushed that door open. At first glance, the room beyond appeared to be some sort of security room. Computer equipment lined the large L-shaped desk that covered two walls. There were at least four computers all told, and as many monitors. But the idea that it was a security room slipped away when she realized the images on the screens were not of this house.
She moved into the room to get a better look at the images. One was a freeze-frame of a spooky night forest. Another was an image of an old house even creepier than this one. The third held a frozen computer image of a beautiful woman clutching a cross she held thrust out as if to ward off evil. The last monitor was blank.
Fascinated by the woman, Rachel ignored the rest of the room and moved to stand in front of that monitor. She was beautiful, with long, dark hair and large silver eyes. She also looked familiar.
"I know you," Rachel murmured to the image. "Where do I know you from?"