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And suddenly it burst upon her. She shuddered, over and over, crying out with ecstasy. Watching her in the grip of her pleasure pushed him over the edge. He was there, flowing into her, the pleasure of it almost unbearable, slamming him like wild waves.
But something else was happening, now. She was falling. The poppies were swallowing her, the ground sinking beneath her. He gripped her hand, desperately trying to keep her upright, to stop her descent into the very earth.
“Patricia,” he cried. “Do not leave me…”
But she was slipping away, the poppies smothering her, as if she had never been there at all. He heard just a whisper of her voice before it was gone forever.
“Believe in me,” she said. “Just as I believe in you…”
He sat up with a jolt, his heart thudding. Someone had tipped icy cold water over his head. The dream dissipated like mist around him.
He gasped, as the water dripped down his face. He was still here, in this foul, decrepit room, fear clawing at his innards. The dream was gone.Shewas gone. And with a stab of pure pain, he realized that he might never see her again.
“Good,” said a male voice. “He’s awake. Let’s see how he shall react.”
Jackson reached up, wiping the dripping water from his face. He recognized that voice. An eerie chill shuddered through him.
He turned his head slowly towards the voice, gritting his teeth at the pain. A man was squatting over him, his face slightly amused, as if Jackson had just said something rather humorous.
He gasped with shock. It was Lord Archibald Cardigan.
