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she shared with the Nivens. Her real home. The house where she had lived with her parents.
With her mother
.
    No sooner had the thought of her mother crossed Gaia's mind than a figure ran up the steps and into the house. Gaia had only enough time to tell it was a woman before the front door opened and closed with a bang.
    "Mom?" Gaia ran toward the door. "Mom!"
    Snow dusted the steps leading up to the door and was drifted against the sides of the house. There was blood here, too.
Lots of blood
. There was blood on the steps. On the porch. On the door.
    Gaia pulled at the door, but it refused to open. "Mom!" she shouted. "Mom, let me in!" There was no answer from the house.
    She began to hammer on the door.
Bang. Bang.
    Gaia smashed her fist against the door. The whole thing looked too fragile to stand, much less hold up to blows. Gaia struck out again, and the door rattled in its frame. She jumped and planted a solid kick. The
    bare sole of her foot clapped against the wood. Dust flew into the blood-stained snow.
    Thump.
    The boards held.
    Gaia gritted her teeth. The door didn't look strong. But no matter how she battered at the aged boards, they wouldn't break.
    "Gaia," called a voice from inside.
    "Mom?" Gaia froze. "Mom, is that you?"
    "Gaia." The voice was soft and familiar.
    Gaia put her ear against the door. "Mom. It's me. Will you let me in?"
    "Gaia!" This time the voice was a scream. And it wasn't Gaia's mother.
    Gaia leaped back from the door. "Mary?"
    "Gaia!" screamed the voice inside the house. "Gaia, help me!"
    Gaia leaped, spun, and kicked the center of the door with all her strength. With a loud crash the door jumped in its frame. A thin crack split the center board from top to bottom. Fragments of wood rained down. Gaia kicked again. And again. Then followed up the kicks with a blow from a stiff right hand.
    The crack widened.
    "Hang on!" Gaia shouted into the opening. "I'm coming!"
    She spun and directed another kick at the door, but before her foot could reach the wood, strength
    drained from her legs.
The blow landed as only a weak thump
. Gaia tried again, but this kick was even weaker.
    She staggered and fell against the door. Her muscles were failing. This was supposed to happen after the fight, not in the middle. She couldn't collapse now, not when Mary was still in danger.
    Gaia pushed herself away from the burned boards, drew in a deep breath, and pounded against the door with everything she had. Left hand.
Thump.
Right hand.
Thump.
Kick
.
Thump.
    Blood began to pour out from under the door. Not a few spots of blood or drops of blood. Streams of blood. Buckets of blood.
    The blows did nothing. Gaia was weak. Too weak to help Mary. Too weak to help anyone.
    Gray fog closed in at the edge of her vision. Gaia was completely drained. Helpless.
    "No," she whispered. "No, I have to get it open." She brought her hand down against the wood over and over.
    Thump.
    Thump.
    Knock.
    Thump.
    Knock.
    Knock.
    Gaia's eyes flew open. She came off the bed in a
    fighting crouch, jumped into the center of the room, and searched for the nearest enemy.
    Only there were no enemies
. No corpse of a house in the middle of the snowy woods. No locked door. There was only a bedroom with an unmade bed and several careless heaps of clothes.
    Gaia stood there for a moment, her breath coming hard. A dream. It had only been a dream.
    The knock at the bedroom door came again. "Gaia? Are you up?"
    Gaia groaned. It was Ella's voice. "Yes," she admitted. "I'm up."
    "Good. I've got breakfast ready."
    Gaia frowned at her bedroom door. This seemed real, but she had to be dreaming. "What did you say?"
    "Breakfast is ready."
    Gaia wondered if that sentence had ever before passed between Ella's overly red lips. Domestic was not Ella's middle name.
Gaia decided she would rather face another nightmare than eat breakfast with a bimbo
. "No, thanks," she said.
    "You're sure you won't grace this event with your presence?" Even through the