Apt. 113, Late Night, Alec
The apartment was dark, everyone was in bed. Ang sleeping soundly, her breath fluttering warm and soft against his shoulder. He'd been asleep as well, just moments before, but something had woken him. A soft keening, a whining that had slipped through the layers of sleep to rouse him.
He shifted lightly, listening, waiting for it repeat, and hung one hand over the edge of the bed. Immediately a cold, wet nose pressed into his palm, following by a warm velvet tongue.
What's the matter, girl?
But as his hand moved over Faith's head and down her back he realized that her tail was wagging. Happy, content, it wasn't Faith that had called out to him.
Suddenly, it came again, louder-or perhaps it just seemed louder because he was awake-and he realized that it wasn't even coming from this room. Slowly he shifted and disentangled himself from Ang.
Emma.
Sure enough, as he crossed the hall and nudged open the door to the girl's room, she was crying, soft, but insistent, in her sleep; struggling with slow, jerky movements against the demons hiding in her nightmares. It broke his heart to see her like this.
And made his blood boil.
How could anyone do this? Do this to a child, an innocent?
Instantly, something inside him answered. Unbidden, but still as much a part of him as it had always been, the dark corners of his mind responded, offering ideas, clues. Understanding.