I woke face down in a drool soaked pillow.
There were worse puddles to wake up in, I suppose, but I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted to lie there, absolutely still, until I was certain that nothing was going to kill me. Not my migraine, not Agent Gerard, not whoever had snatched me off the curb.
When I cracked an eyelid to take a peek, I glimpsed a nicely decorated room, with a reassuring absence of white slavers and crack whores. A quick inventory under the covers revealed no amateur sutures, so I didn’t seem to be missing a kidney. Just my clothes.
Don’t forget! You have until next Wednesday to Tweet your picture of Spirit and Dust in the wild to be entered to win a signed copy of Texas Gothic! Remember to use the hashtag #spiritanddust so I’ll see the post.