Terry woke for a third time. Now it was dark; night-time. He waited a few moments, but no face appeared above him. In fact, he could not hear anyone in the room.
He remembered what Rachel had told him, though, so he remembered that he was in the O'Hara's house recovering from injuries from a Succubus, and that everyone else in the house was a werewolf. Terry closed his eyes again, wanting to go to sleep to stop thinking about it.
For now, however, sleep would not oblige him, and eventually Terry looked around him once more. He couldn't see very much, especially when laying horizontal, so he tried shifting himself a little.
Ow. That hurt. But, not as much as last time.
Inch by inch, and very aware that he could easily pass out from pain, Terry got into an upright position. By that time, of course, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness somewhat, and he gazed about him somewhat more able to observe things.
The room was not big - just about the size of a guest bedroom. The walls looked like wood, just like the ceiling. The floor was carpet. There were a few pieces of furniture - a wardrobe against the far wall, and a chair and lamp stand beside the bed, but that was it. The door was also set into the far wall, and two windows were set into the wall to Terry's right. Terry couldn't spot the light fixture, but he knew there was one there; all the light from before couldn't have come from those two windows.
So. Yeah. A room.
Terry didn't try to get up and walk around; just sitting upright against the headboard had been enough of a challenge. Still not feeling real sleepy, he sat there for a while.
There wasn't much to do or look at, and his thoughts were all hurdy-gurdy at the moment, so he was pretty bored. It sure was humid. He wiped the moisture off his forehead with his right hand, and noticed that his hand was covered in crackly black tar. And, apparently, it had shrunk.
Terry's eyes popped wide open and he held his hand (so to speak) a little ways away from him. It looked like it had been . . . microwaved, or dipped in acid, or something.
What the hell was this?!?
Rachel hadn't told him anything about an injury to his hand; had it happened in the fight with the Succubus? (he still couldn't remember that at all.) If it had, why hadn't he noticed it before now?
Terry thought about that for a moment. No . . . he couldn't remember using his right hand at all since he had gotten here. Could it be that he had just never looked at it?
He tried again to remember what had happened back at the bar, after Fiona had taken him down the cellar stairs. Nothing came of the scene. Terry focused harder, and suddenly the room blazed with ghostly light.
Terry started back, causing a wave of fire to wash down the nerves in his back. Bathed in the ghostly light, the shade of Mrs. O'Hara bustled in with a tray of food. Then, she disappeared and the shade of Dita was standing at the side of Terry's bed, looking angry. Dita-shade threw a punch at Terry - and just like that, the ghost-light was gone, and everything was pitch-black.
Really pitch-black. Darker than before.
Terry realized that had closed his eyes when focusing, and they had been closed throughout the whole vision. He opened them now, and the room swam in front of him.
He slid down the backboard with a very distant shriek of pain, and fell asleep once more.