Gilroy awoke (or at least thought he awoke) for what must have been the hundredth time. Reality shifted around him. The hunger blurred his vision and made the floor shift under his feet.

Was this real or did the feeling of deja-vu mean he was still trapped in memory.

Even the Beast felt confused. Hunger, fear, and rage all blended together. Kenneth felt unstable as his hands clenched onto the cold metal of the examination table.

“Bishop,” she screeched “Priscus,” undead hands hit undead flesh after each word “Seneschal,” the human tried to understand how he felt pain without metabolism “You don’t deserve those titles,” The worm only hissed before dragging him into a world of violent dreams.

Gilroy woke for a brief moment. Or thought he did at least. He rolled off the metal gunnery onto a cement floor. Nearby a nurse screeched in horror at the undead corpse clawing pathetically towards her. She beat the body until it moved no more.

Gilroy blinked open his eyes. Eyelids felt like sandpaper over dead, dry, gelatinous orbs. A woman leaned over his body. Washing it with her hair. This couldn’t be real. The ravenous worm writhed but he pushed it down and shut his eyes. Kenneth stayed deathly still as the woman in white worshipfully washed him. All the time Kenneth focused trying to think.

What had happened? How was he here? Where was here? The memories came sluggishly.

His grandsire had summoned him. Urgently. Something about… Kenneth refrained from inhaling in concentration. Yet he couldn’t remember. He'd meant to call someone. Tell them he was leave. Yet Elija had said...not to? That didn't make sense.

He’d gone back to Boston. Taken a plane? Yes. He’d had to return right away for some reason. Tabitha had been waiting.

Kenneth knew where he was. He knew he wasn’t safe. He had to crawl back to where he’d been secure. He had to get back to Sacramento.

The woman was washing his face now. The Fanged Worm grabbed hold of her by her neck with hands and teeth, keeping a stranglehold until she dropped limp. He rolled off the metal table. A whimper escaped his lips as he looked expectantly to the door for something to beat him to death. Sleep?

It didn’t matter. He still wasn’t completely sure he was out of torpor but any chance to escape his memories; he had to take it. He crawled to the door and prayed the handle would work.