Stumbling into my bedroom, I clumsily kicked off my shoes and yanked free of my coat and sweater before face-planting in the bed.
Fire everywhere.I couldn’t get out. And looming like the gatekeeper to hell was a mammoth black demon, at least two hundred feet tall. It lunged for me and I screamed.
My eyes flew open, my pulse throbbing in my ears.
Slowly, my vision adjusted to the dark, and I remembered where I was. The room wasn’t quite familiar to me yet, but I recognized it as the primary bedroom in my new bungalow. It was then that I slowly became aware of everything else. Sweat drenched my body. My skin was on fire, and my head still pounded like the devil from my fever nightmare was banging drums inside my skull.
My nose and head felt stuffy, and as I moved to check the time, my limbs seemed to be made of rocks instead of flesh, muscle, and bone. Forcing myself out of bed, I had to lean a palm against the wall to steady myself. It took me twice as long as normal to get to the living room and to my handbag to retrieve my phone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this poorly. A look at the screen told me I’d been asleep for hours. It was nine o’clock in the evening.
I needed water, so I pushed myself to get up to fetch a glass from the kitchen. I also forced down some paracetamol and changed into a nightdress. It wasn’t the weather for nightdresses, but a touch to the skin on my chest told me what I already knew. I had a fever.
That was never more obvious than a few hours later when I woke up again with chills. I chittered miserably in my bed, pulling the duvet covers tight around me, too weak to do anything about it, and hoping it meant my fever might break soon.
I felt drugged.
The room wouldn’t stop spinning, and I could do nothing but lie in misery in my bed the next morning. My fever hadn’t broken, my headache hadn’t abated, and I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I knew I should probably call Jared. I’d had the flu as a child and this felt the same. It wasn’t just a bad cold. I was really unwell. But I could barely make myself move.
Do it, Sarah,I heard Jared’s voice say.Get on that phone and call me now.
Groaning, I rolled over and was just reaching out a heavy arm for the phone when a banging sound reverberated through the cottage.
Is that my head?I thought on a moan.
The pounding continued.
Then … “Sarah? Sarah McCulloch?”
Why was that voice familiar?
“I know you’re in here because your neighbor said she saw you go in and you haven’t come out since yesterday.”
What the … Somehow I got out of bed, listening to that familiar posh accent I couldn’t quite place rattle on about his long drive and how I better be in here. Sickness rose as the world spun, and it felt like I was on the deck of a ship in the worst storm ever as I made my stumbling way through the bungalow to the front door.
With trembling fingers, I opened a door I realized I’d forgotten to lock.
And standing on my doorstep was Theo Cavendish.
“Oh, great,” I muttered as black spots crawled around the edges of my vision. “I’ve progressed to full-on hallucination.”
“Dear God,” I heard him say just before all the lights switched off.
Five
THEO
The last thing I expected to happen when I arrived at Haven’s View Cottage was for its owner to open the door and faint in my arms. I lunged for Sarah as her eyes fluttered closed and her knees buckled. Holding her off the ground, I deducted, using my sharp observational skills, that Sarah was ill. She was drenched in sweat, her skin feverish, and she was currently unconscious. Bending down, I slid an arm under her knees and lifted her. Carrying her into the bungalow, I noted how light she was as I searched the house for the bedroom. Although average height, she looked and felt tiny and fragile.
There were two bedrooms, but the one with the rumpled curtains and half-empty glass of water on the nightstand told me this was Sarah’s. I laid her down on the bed, my heart racing a little that she hadn’t woken up yet. Noting her thin nightdress had pulled down at her chest, almost revealing her nipple, I tugged on the strap, restoring her modesty. The last thing she bloody needed was a strange man ogling her. She shivered in her unconsciousness, so I pulled her duvet over her.
“Sarah?” I murmured, brushing her sweat-soaked hair off her face. “Sarah, are you conscious, little mouse?”
She whimpered in her sleep, and I bit out a curse. It had been years since I played nursemaid but needs must. Tugging my phone out of my back pocket, I did a quick search for doctors in the area. Surprised to discover the small village had a health center, I called them.
“Gairloch Health Center, Jan speaking,” a woman answered.
“Ah, yes, good morning. I’ve just arrived at my … my friend’s home here in Gairloch to find her stricken with something flulike. She just passed out and I can’t rouse her.”
“Is she a patient with us?”
