They were places where she watched her family die, crippled by terror and utterly lacking the knowledge of what was happening to her.
Sometimes her dreams forced her to relive her own death. Sometimes they forced her to chase down a vampire who menaced her camp yet again.
This morning, her dreams were about a visit she'd paid Miakoda, an ancient vampiress who lived in the eastern, more empty part of Washington state. She was Drac's maker, and she was a bitch.
She sat in front of Phaedra, now, her demon minions (incorporeal, lesser little things) silently assaulting Phae, trying to deter her from getting the information she needed.