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shaken friend.
    “It was horrible, the most frightening thing that’s ever
happened to me,” Emily sobbed.
    “Was it your parents? Did someone hurt you?” Cappy
questioned, perceptibly worried.
    “It was worse than anything like that. It was worse than
being trapped in a nightmare,” Emily informed her, trying to steady her voice.
    “Fucking hell!” Catherine spat. “I knew something like this
would happen.”
    “I should have listened to you,” Emily sniffled.
    “Tell me what happened. What did you see?”
    “I’ll tell you later. I don’t want to talk about it just
yet,” Emily answered. “I feel sick to my stomach. But I can tell you this: I am
officially done with hypnotherapy. In fact, I’m done with all therapy. Please
tell Dr. Lewis that I died or something.”
    “That’s a horrible thing to say,” Cappy scolded.
    “Tell her I decided to stay in England, then. I’m not going
to see her again, ever,” Emily said through deep breaths.
    “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Cappy replied. “Come on; let’s
go to Donnelly’s Pub on the way home. I’ll buy you a drink.”
    “I doubt that will help,” Emily said, pressing the palm of
her hand into her stomach.
    “Okay then, I’ll buy you five drinks,” Cappy answered with a
nervous chuckle.
    “Now you’re talking,” Emily responded.
    Catherine threw her arm around Emily’s shoulders in a
comforting manner and led her out of the building.

Chapter 5
     
     
     
    She reached her arms up over her head and felt the fabric
slip off. Completely undressed, she closed her eyes tight and lay down. She
felt the burn of the blush on her cheeks.
    After a moment of silence, she opened her eyes to find
Kellus gazing at her with an unreadable expression.
    “What’s the matter?” she asked, slightly trembling.
    “I’ve never seen anything so perfect,” he replied
emotionally. “It’s hard for me to believe that you are really mine.”
    “Completely,” she whispered.
     
    “Emily.” She heard Nancy’s voice cut into the dream. “Ems,
are you awake?”
    “Um, yes,” she replied, opening her eyes and looking around
the unfamiliar room.
    “The tour bus to Stonehenge leaves in forty-five minutes,”
Nancy said. “We don’t want to miss it.
    They arrived in London the previous morning and took a cab
to their hotel in Kensington.
    After dropping off their luggage, they headed out quickly to
see the city.
    Their first stop was Kensington Palace, where they took
dozens of pictures, then went on their way to Buckingham Palace, just in time
to watch the changing of the guards at eleven thirty. It was well worth the
forty-five minutes spent in drizzle to see the Queen’s guards in full dress
uniform of red tunics and bearskin.
    From there, they walked to Westminster Abbey, taking lots of
pictures of the famous buildings, especially the clock tower—Big Ben.
    Emily was most eager to see the Tower of London, and it did
not disappoint. It overflowed with history in a way that made everything back
home seem ridiculously new.
    The White Tower, built in 1078 by William the Conqueror,
held eerie torture chambers that seemed to pulse with chilling, spine tingling
vibrations of fear and torment.
    The Tower Green, where Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard both
lost their heads over the same fickle man, with it’s prisons that held Sir
Walter Raleigh and Guy Fawkes—among many other’s—seemed to whisper of anguish
and persecution. The memory of those souls, forever bound to history books,
seemed to swell in the atmosphere, eternally ingrained in the stone casing.
    By the time they had seen all there was to see, the effects
of having only one or two hours sleep on the plane was starting to become a
factor, and still they had a four mile walk back to the hotel.
    They managed to finish off their day with the best Indian
food Emily had ever tasted, along with three King Fisher beers.
    Today, they found themselves seated on a comfortable tour
bus, gazing out the