… Albanian but legend's been traced back to ancient Rome …

His thoughts are random as he pushes the door, easing it silently open. She's sitting in the dark …

Sammy in bed … it was leaning over him … a menacing figure …

His nose wrinkles up, the smell hitting him. A dusty smell, underlaid by something rotting. She hasn't moved. Sleeping? He tightens his hold on his gun, feeling a slick of sweat over his palm. He can't see her breathing.

Closer.

The smell strengthens.

Closer.

Her eyes are open, staring at nothing.

Closer.

"Who t'hell are you?!"