walk,run. But it was only an illusion, she thought. She had heard too many tales of people lying at death's door who experienced a last, sudden burst of false energy.
Dr. Martinson frowned as he examined her later that morning. "I don't understand it," he murmured as he looked into her eyes, listened to her heartbeat. "How can this be?"
"What is it?" she asked, fearing that death was closer than she thought.
He shook his head. "Nothing." He smiled his fatherly smile at her and patted her hand. "Nothing for you to worry about, my dear. Get some rest."
But she didn't feel like resting. She grabbed hold of his sleeve as he turned away from the bed. "A strange doctor came to visit me last night," she said, still clutching his sleeve. "Who was he?"
Dr. Martinson's brow wrinkled. "A doctor, you say? I'm sure I don't know."
"But he said you sent him."
"I sent no one. Rest now. I have rounds to make."
"But - "
"I'm sure it was just a dream." He tugged his sleeve free of her grasp. "I'll see you later this evening."
She stared after him. Had it been a dream? But it had seemed so real. Overcome by a sense of disappointment, though she couldn't say why, she drew the covers up over her head and drifted off to sleep to dream of a tall, dark man in a hooded cloak the color of midnight.
The chill in the room awakened her, the same eerie coolness she had felt the night before. Clutching the blankets to her chin, she stared into the darkness. "Where are you? I know you're here."
A dark shape detached itself from the deep shadows of the room. Last night, she had fancied that he was a part of the darkness. On this night, she knew he was the darkness.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice thin and shaky. "What are you doing here? What do you want from me?"
A soft chuckle floated through the blackness toward her. "Only what I gave you last night. Only what you gave me in return."
"I gave you nothing." She took a deep breath, opened her mouth to scream for help, but he was suddenly at her side, his hand on her mouth stifling her cry.
"You don't want to do that." His voice was as low, as mesmerizing, as she remembered. "Did I hurt you last night, sweet Analisa?"
She stared up at him. How did he know her name? Who was he, this dark stranger with the compelling voice and mesmerizing eyes?
"Did I?" he persisted.
She shook her head, her heart pounding loudly, erratically. He hadn't hurt her, but there was something about him that frightened her. Something dark and intangible.
"I will not hurt you tonight."
She felt a wave of sweet relief wash over her as someone opened the door. Welcome light from the hallway spilled into her room. Thank goodness. Help was here. "Dr. Martinson! I'm so glad to see you!"
"Good evening, Analisa. How are you feeling?"
She stared at her doctor, waiting for him to question the stranger's presence in the room, but Dr. Martinson walked by the stranger as if there were no one there, though she could see him plainly. He was standing in the shadows, as still and silent as death.
"Who's that man?" Lifting her hand, she pointed a trembling finger toward the stranger.
The doctor glanced around the room, his brow furrowed. "What man?"
"You don't see him?" She looked at the stranger, then back at Dr. Martinson. "He's standing right there, by the window."
Dr. Martinson smiled indulgently. "You must have been dreaming again, my dear. There's no one else here."
She stared at the stranger while the doctor examined her, wondering if she was going insane. She saw the cloaked figure so clearly, but if the doctor could not see him, then surely there was no one there. Perhaps she was having delusions of some kind. She had been ill for so long, perhaps in her weakened state she could no longer discern fact from fantasy. But she didn't feel weak and sick today. She felt
stronger this evening than she had in weeks. Perhaps the hooded man was Death come for her. Perhaps that was why only she could see him. Her grandmother had told her that Death rode a dark horse. She giggled softly. Of course, he couldn't ride his horse into her room.
Dr. Martinson was smiling when he finished his examination. "I am pleased with your progress, Analisa, though I confess I do not understand it. It is