George watched the woman jump. Her growing anxiety was allowing him to feel even more relaxed. I wish I could see the expression on her face. I bet it's a riot. I can hear her breathing from here.

Slowly, the woman lowered from the altar and felt around the floor. Once confident it was safe, she sat down, scooted away from the noise, unknowingly moving toward George.

The manipulator had to hold back his desire to engage. I should scream, "Boo!" He cupped his hand over his mouth. That would be hilarious. I bet she'd p.i.s.s herself. He forced his mind to change course. That would be funny, but it would be a disadvantage. They'll know I'm here.

This time, the woman used a much louder voice. "I said, who's there?"

The other figure moved again, groaning while grabbing his head with one hand and pushing himself upright with the other.

George watched as the other man draped his legs over the side of his dais. This one's definitely a guy. He groans like a man. He tried to focus a little harder on the figure. Just let the situation play itself out, Georgie boy.

"I said, who's there?" the woman yelled again with a more forceful tone. "I've got a gun here!"

George reached down under his pant leg and patted the small firearm he always carried with him. Well, I've got one, too. Hmmm, she's got a bit of an accent.

"Okay, okay," the man responded, trying to gain his bearings. "Relax, will you? My name is Sam. Ugh." He rubbed his eyes and continued. "Sam, Sam Goodrich. That's who's here."

The woman said nothing. She waited for more information as George continued to revel in her anxiety. I'm loving this. She'd crawl right out of her skin if I started to grumble, "Red rum. Red rum." d.a.m.n, I loved that movie. Stephen, you're the man.

After a moment of silence, Sam spoke in an authoritative voice. "Who are you? Where am I, and why are all the lights out? " He rubbed his temples. "Do you have any aspirin? My head's killing me."

George watched the woman react, searching her person for what he a.s.sumed would have been medication. As it turned out, she did not have anything. She moved farther away, frightened that her inability to help would increase the tension.

It was now clear she was wearing pajamas and slippers. Wow, nice body, George thought. I may not know where I am, but I know beautiful when I see it. h.e.l.l ... I've gotta give credit where credit is due. A guy's gotta sit back at a time like this and enjoy the show.

The woman replied, speaking to Sam in a soft voice. "I don't have any aspirin. I'm sorry." She tried to keep her voice low, not wanting to aggravate Sam's pain. "If I had them, I'd give them to you."

"b.u.mmer," Sam replied, looking up. As he squinted to bring his surroundings into clarity, he questioned the woman in waves. "What is this place? Where are we? Who are you, and how long have we been here?"

"How should I know? I just woke up." After a moment, she continued, "My name is Shalee."

"Got a last name, Shalee?" Sam responded without hesitation.

"Adamson," she answered, somewhat annoyed at his brashness.

"Nice to meet you. It seems we've found ourselves in a bit of a pickle, don't you think?" Sam continued to scan the room, his brilliant mind looking for answers.

The fighter's pain eased as he moved his neck to look around. "You've got to love a good puzzle. Hopefully, I'll be able to see all the pieces soon," he added with a slight smile that Shalee still could not see. "Where's your accent from?"

Shalee relaxed a bit. "Why Texas, of course. Any red-blooded American knows us Texans have the sweetness of apple pie in our voices. But my daddy messed it up a bit. You know how those people from Arkansas talk, all woodsy like."

Sam chuckled. "Well I hope you brought enough pie for me."

George rolled his eyes. You've got to be kidding me. What a stupid line. Put the snake away, big boy.

Deciding the two were not a threat, George piped in. "We're in some kind of hall, Casanova!" He made sure his voice was strong to ensure he struck a nerve or two.

With her back to this new voice, Shalee shrieked and rushed to take a seat on the altar at Sam's side. To her, Sam seemed to be less threatening at the moment, which was ironic, since out of the two men in the room, Sam was the only one who understood the mechanics of how to break someone's neck.

"Who's there?" Sam demanded. "Show yourself!"

"h.e.l.l, man, no one's hiding! I'm right here. It's not my fault your d.a.m.n eyes can't see me yet!"

George stood, walked toward them and hopped onto the opposing altar. "I've been sitting here the whole time. I've just been awake longer than you." He crossed his legs. "If anyone's interested, my name is George Nailer."

George noticed Sam had on some sort of fighting gloves and a pair of trunks. There was also heavy tape around his ankles. Hmmm. Why is he dressed that way?

The manipulator continued, "I didn't want to say anything until I knew you guys were cool. It looks like we're all clueless. I wish I knew how I got here."

Sam replied, "Me, too. Do you remember anything at all?"

George nodded. "Ummm, yeah ... I was driving with this chick. Her eyes turned red, it got really cold, and I saw her teeth turn into these crazy, sharp fangs. Then I pa.s.sed out ... and I wasn't even drinking."

Sam reached up and scratched the top of his head. "This is going to sound strange, but something similar happened to me. Well ... the red eyes and the sharp teeth anyway."

"What do you mean?" George questioned.

Sam took a deep breath and removed his gloves. "Well, I was in a fight ... my first professional fight as a matter of fact. Anyway, after winning, the announcer questioned me. When I looked into his eyes, they were glowing. I felt helpless, and I couldn't move. The next thing I knew, his eyes were normal, and so was his smile. I finished answering his questions, and I remember the crowd cheering. When I left the cage, I looked back at the announcer. All of a sudden, his eyes turned red again."

"I hate to admit it, but I was scared. It was a fear like I've never felt before. I ran to my locker room, and I remember lying down. I don't know why, but I felt overwhelmed. That's when the cold consumed me, and the laughter started. That's the last thing I remember."

Sam crossed his arms and rubbed away the goose b.u.mps. "For some reason, I felt like I've heard that laugh before ... but I don't know where or when."

"If the laugh was anything like I heard, I can't imagine something so nasty feeling familiar," George replied. "Are you sure you heard it before?"

Sam jumped to his feet. "I'm pretty sure." He reached up and touched his brow. "Huh ... the cut above my eye is gone."

"What cut?" George queried.

Sam mumbled to himself. "I think I was cut. I had to be." After a bit, Sam shook off the confusion and turned to look at Shalee. "What's your story?" He extended a hand to help her off the dais.

"Yeah," George added, somewhat irritated that Sam had ignored his question. This Sam guy did not seem to be much of a threat, and it was easy to see that Shalee was still apprehensive. Her ongoing anxiety made him feel comfortable, so everything was under control, despite the fact he was in some dark, unfamiliar place. Today was not the first time George woke up in a dark room and had not known where he was.

Shalee refused to take Sam's hand while George continued to enjoy her mood. The jerk listened to her tentative response as Sam pulled his arm back.

"Well ... ummm ... I think I caught a glimpse of something out the corner of my eye when I fell. But I'm not too sure about that though. All I can really remember is how everything felt weird. Oh ... and I bonked my head on the coffee table in my living room."

Shalee reached up to touch her forehead. To her surprise, it was not sore at all. "Goodness, that's strange. I don't seem to have a mark on me. I wonder..." Shalee's mind was struggling to understand, but something unexpected happened to divert her anguish. The great hall filled with light.

The group's attention turned toward it. This was good, since it was pointless to guess the purpose of the demon with the red eyes and sharp teeth. These were questions they would not have been able to answer, questions that would have caused panic and fear. At least for the moment, the light in the great hall was their saving grace.

No matter where they looked, the light's origin appeared to come from the top of the pillars. It was as if it emanated from within the marble, like powerful bulbs had been placed inside and turned on.

The three huddled together. "How's this possible?" Sam questioned. "I don't see how they could light up like that. They look solid. I don't see any transparencies." He scanned the room for answers.

With Shalee in the middle, she grabbed their hands and pulled them closer. "What now?"

Sam pulled his hand away, wanting to be ready for what might happen next.

George, however, enjoyed Shalee's touch.

As Shalee looked at Sam, the manipulator took the time to look over her figure. He grinned in admiration. I like the pink slippers, George thought. Awww. They have cute, little, white, bunny ears attached to them. Hmmm. She's wearing designer pajamas. She must have great taste and a fun side. He looked at her backside. Definitely, a fun side. He paused. h.e.l.l, everything on her is fun. After a few seconds, he pulled his mind out of the gutter and turned it back to the situation at hand.

The group stood in silence. Nothing was happening. The large, double doors nearest them were at least five times taller than Sam, and about four times his width. They looked as if they were made of a precious metal, maybe gold, and their images reflected off the onyx floor that had been polished to a perfect sheen.

George looked down. He saw his reflection and winked. How ya doing, stud? Wow! Now there's a looker! I kill myself.

The three redirected their attention. The hall stretched for what Sam figured to be about the length of three football fields. Above, they could see paintings, glorious paintings, which clearly told a story of many heavenly and demonic beings fighting an intense battle. Sam rubbed the end of his chin. "I bet that ceiling has to be at least 35 to 40 meters at its highest point."

George looked at Shalee and then at Sam. "You've got to be kidding me. You just looked at the ceiling and wondered how high it is? Who in the h.e.l.l thinks in meters? What are you ... Canadian? What about the art? Are we not seeing the same thing? Do you always look at something so beautiful and ignore it?"

Sam shrugged. "Not always. You're right though, the paintings are beautiful." Sam took a closer look. "I wonder if they used oils, acrylics or some other chemical compound."

George shook his head and rolled his eyes. His voice was smothered in sarcasm. "Wow. All I can say right now is wow."

Sam grinned. "It's bugging me that I still don't have an idea where we are."

George smirked. "And how would you know where we are by determining the height of a ceiling, Mr. Meter-man?"

Sam's brows furrowed. "History is how."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, some of us read," Sam reb.u.t.ted. "I should've read about a place like this. How could I not know about these paintings? They're too glorious to ignore. They must be historically catalogued somewhere. Besides, numbers stick with me. I would remember a building with dimensions this grand."

Sam's mind changed course. "Let's look around. Maybe I'll see something that will jog my memory." Sam poked the side of his head with his finger. "I can't fathom not having a record of it up here."

George placed his fist over his mouth and coughed, "Bull c.r.a.p," he slurred.

Shalee grinned as George continued. "Sure, whatever you say, Encyclopedia Brown. Let me know when the marbles settle. I'm sure I'll still be here."

Sam glared at George and then took control, leading the group to the right side of the hall and stopping beyond the pillars. All the way down this side, about every 100 feet or so, there was another set of golden doors resembling the ones closest to them when they woke.

Sam counted eight sets of doors and then did the math. "This place must be at least 1,000 feet long. Imagine the money it took to build it." As always, his mind raced ahead as he processed everything at once-the fear of the situation, two strangers dressed so differently, the cost to build such an expansive hall-and he managed to complete his a.s.sessment without missing a beat.

Shalee directed her eyes back to the ceiling and called upon her training as an architect. She spoke to Sam and George as if she was addressing her colleagues at work. "You're right, Sam. This place must've cost a pretty penny." She pointed to the far wall. "Take a look at the vertical emphasis. It's breathtaking. The look and feel is characteristically enhanced by both the architectural features and the decor of the structure. I just love the sweeping flow of how the walls merge into the cathedral ceiling. I dare say it feels a bit Gothic. It's like a dash of Heaven and a smidge of h.e.l.l all rolled into one. I've never seen anything like it. It kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Sam looked at George and then back at Shalee. "Wow, that was a nice a.s.sessment, Shalee."

George shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Sam frowned and then issued a command. "George, go check out the other side of the hall."

George sized Sam up as if he was going to object, but instead, he thought better of it. He bit his lip and then did as he was told. Who in the h.e.l.l is he to order me around? What kind of garbage is that? He looked back over his shoulder at Sam. Hmpf, just be a team player for now. There's a time and place for everything, Georgie boy. No sense getting into an argument over stupid stuff. Besides, the clown seems pretty smart. Maybe I can learn something.

When George reached the other side of the hallway, he noticed there were more doors on this side. In the middle of this stretch, there was a statue tucked behind two pillars, though it was not visible to Sam or Shalee. The statue was in front of yet another set of doors, but they were much larger than the others. He could not see their full detail from his current position, but he could see they were different.

George called out, "There's a statue! It might be worth a look! Maybe the doors behind it is a way out of this joint!"

"Let's check it out," Sam responded. He took the lead and headed in that direction with George in tow.

"Where y'all going?" Shalee shouted. She crossed her arms and planted her feet. "I'm not moving from this spot. We have no idea what's beyond any of these doors. We should stay right here."

As if the boys shared the same brain, both men replied, "Suit yourself."

Shalee was flabbergasted. After a minute of standing alone, she ran to catch up. "Wait y'all! You can't just leave a lady standing in the middle of nowhere! I look cute in these PJs! You don't find bunny slippers this fab every day, you know. What if some crazy person saw me and got a naughty idea?"

George thought to himself as he watched Shalee approach. Some guy has already got a naughty idea. No worries about that.

Sam chided, "I was wondering how long it would take before you caught up. I would hate to go on without you. I need protection," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Shalee gave Sam a look to kill. "Oh ... so you're a funny guy." It was obvious he could take care of himself. Despite her irritation, she was impressed with his body, and if she had not been so unnerved, she might have found the time to realize this fact. She may have even found the desire to touch him. His brown hair and his soft, brown eyes were exactly her type.

"Can we stay together from now on?" George said in a harsh tone. "This isn't my idea of fun, so the less we have to think about, the better. Please, no more thinking for you, woman."

Sam ignored George's comment and brushed past the jerk as he continued toward the statue. Shalee, on the other hand, gave George the finger and stayed on Sam's heels.

"Women ... drama ... emotions," George sneered, rolling his eyes.

With the trio now standing in front of a bronze statue, they looked it over. It was tall and had incredible detail. The being was a man, no more than six feet tall, but when combined with the base of the statue beneath his feet, it put him another five feet off the floor. He held a staff in his right hand with an orb resting at its top, and he was using the staff as a walking stick.

The skin between Shalee's eyes wrinkled as she studied the staff. That looks like the staff from my dreams. What the heck is going on here? she thought.

On the man's left hip hung a long sword meant for one hand, and it had been belted around the outside of his robe. A hood extended up and over the top of the man's head and stopped just above his eyes. Beneath the shadow cast by the hood, a scar ran across his right eye and ended near the corner of his mouth, but the cut creating the scar had not penetrated deep enough to injure the eye.

His boots extended high on the calf and looked as if they would offer solid protection. The robe beneath his chin was parted halfway down his sternum, and a hint of chainmail could be seen, yet it was not clear how much of his upper body it covered.

Sam and Shalee both thought to themselves, I've seen this guy before. But neither verbalized it.

The group continued to circle. To the man's right, tucked behind the staff, was a four-legged beast that looked like a wolf. The animal seemed peaceful, as if it was with its master. They all agreed the beast was larger than any wolf they had ever seen.

Across the man's body was a cord that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip. It extended around to his back and was attached to a bow. The weapon looked worn, but battle worthy.

Sam stopped to ponder.

"What is it?" George questioned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sam murmured, "He looks familiar."

"What? Speak up. You're mumbling," George snapped.

"I said, this guy looks familiar."

When Shalee heard Sam say the man looked familiar, her anxiety returned. Could this stranger have had the same dreams I did, or is this guy's face just one of those that everyone feels they've seen before? She brushed off the awkwardness. One of the bachelors on TV did kind of have a face like that. It's probably just a coincidence.

While Shalee was pondering, George responded to Sam. "How do you know this guy?"

Sam put his hand to his chin. "I don't know that I know him, but there's something about his face that I can't put my finger on."