Blood Ties (16 page)

She turned it up. The monochrome print began to shake on my wall.

My relationship with Goth Chick had become an uncomfortable routine. She and her friends lurked about in their piercings and chains with snarls on their faces and I avoided them. When forced to walk past their gauntlet I made a point of returning a sarcastic snarl of my own. They’d hiss, “
bitch” and I’d hiss back. Yeah, we loved each other.

I didn’t bother going upstairs to
play with the bitch of a neighbor. First conversations with someone who loved you as much as she did were always awkward. At least one of us would get a little excited.

So I did the next best thing, escape.

The fog was just beginning to lift. It was overcast, but not dark enough to be worried about rain. I stood at the tree’s edge, stretching, then started off into the forest, slowly working up to a good speed. A mile out from the complex I took a detour on a small path I had discovered two days ago.

I ran for a few miles, skirting around brush and fallen logs
and came to a small clearing. Burned out trees, half hidden in grass and thick brush, littered the floor.

My attention abruptly shifted. About a hundred yards off, something
large weaved through the tall grass and brush. The hair slowly stood up on the back of my neck and I began to carefully move backwards, towards the way I came. A twig broke under my foot and I froze, holding my breath.

In an instant, the bear was up on its hind legs sniffing the air
. It whipped its head around in my direction. It bared its huge mass of fangs then let out a bellow and dropped to race towards me, black fur rippling over its powerful muscles. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. I could only stand there, my legs frozen to the ground in object terror, knowing I was going to die.

It barreled towards me, coming so close I could see the saliva glistening on its teeth, so close I could almost feel the heat radiating from its fur. My mind went blank, waiting for the evitable, the feel of its hot breath on my face, the sour musk of its scent, the slash of claws, the slice of teeth.

It was suddenly gone in a flash of white and wind.

What I saw shocked me out of my frozen state.

He crouched in front of me facing the bear, guttural snarls rumbling deep from inside him, his mouth open in a hideous grimace, exposing a horrific set of canines.

Michael.

I began screaming, my eyes locked on his face.

The bear
got up and shook its massive head in confusion. It stood and gave an angry roar, baring it’s contortion of jagged teeth and charged him.

The next thing I saw was Michael holding the bear from behind as it reared. There was the sound of tearing flesh as he buried his face in
to the animal’s neck. My screams became hoarse as the bear struggled in his arms, its hind paws ripping at the ground, tearing at grass and soil, howling out its anger. Then it began to pant, shuddering, slowing in its struggles. The sound of a loud crack rent the air and it fell to the ground with a thud. My legs buckled and I slipped to my hands and knees, unable to look away from the horrific scene. The bear’s body began to jerk wildly in its death.

Michael took a few steps back
, watching it as it died. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then took a deep breath. His eyes were hugely black, the whites almost swallowed up by darkness.

He turned his attention to me.
Several emotions seemed to cross his face. He began to walk slowly towards me.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

He stopped a few feet in front of me. With a slow movement, he raised his hands, palms out. “Liz, you’re safe now. Are you alright?” he asked gently.

I remained frozen on my hands and knees, trembling, not breathing, not able to look away from those eyes – afraid to look further down
on his pale face – afraid to see what I thought I had seen just a few moments earlier.

He moved closer. “Liz you’re safe now, I won’t hurt you
, trust me,” he said. He reached down, his pale hands extending towards me. A blood curdling scream ripped out of my chest then mercifully, I sank into nothingness.

***

There was a gentle pressure against my forehead. It disturbed the darkness that swirled around me. Again, I felt this cool touch, this time against my wrist. A war waged in my head as my subconscious struggled to keep me in darkness.

I heard soft whispers as if they were in a dream.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

There was a short silence.

I heard a heavy sigh. “I can’t …”

“Then Michel perhaps you should leave, I don’t want you frightening her any further.”

A door quietly closed. Michel? Was I dreaming of Michel? I fought back my heavy lids. A young woman’s face was close to mine, pale as the whitest flowers, her long black hair trailing down one shoulder. She smiled, gazing at me with hazel eyes.

“You’re awake,” she stated gently in a lilting French accent.

I stared at her, confused.

“
How are you feeling?” she asked.

I opened my mouth to speak but only a hoarse croak came out.
She moved away from me and then returned. She slid her arm under my neck and gently raised my head. She pressed a glass of water to my lips.

I took a few sips watching her then tried again. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe. My name is Selene. You fainted. Michel, my brother brought you here to our home.” I gazed at her, perplexed at the sound of his name. Then suddenly it all rushed back. I struggled to get out from underneath the comforter. “Elizabeth ... everything’s fine. You’re safe and unharmed.”

“But … the forest … I saw ...”

“I know. You were frightened.” She laid her cool hand against my forehead. “Please try to calm yourself. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“The bear … Michael …”

“Hush now.”

She reached to raise me up again, and pressed the glass against my lips. I pulled my hands out from underneath the comforter and grasped it in my shaking hands. She took it away when I had finished. I sank down into the pillows and gazed at the angelic woman in front of me, overwhelmed with a dull shock.

“Sleep now child, you need to rest.” Against my will, my eyelids fluttered and then closed. I felt myself sink back into nothingness.

***

I sat up and found myself in darkness. The moon streamed through windows and played against the carpeted floor. I was in a large four-poster bed. I slipped my legs out of bed, sinking my feet into the thick fibers of the carpet and flexed my toes. It seemed real enough, as real and vivid as my other dreams. Was it possible I was having my first “normal” dream like everyone else?

I stood there for a moment listening and when I didn’t hear anything, found a door that looked like it might be the way out
and opened it. I slowly stuck my head out. An empty hallway stretched to my left and right. At the end of the hall on my left, moonlight streamed in from a high-arched window like the bedroom behind me. At the end of the hall was a darkened window, mirroring the other. I slipped out, closing the door behind me and made my way down towards the moonlit window. At the end of it was another hallway that led off to my right. In the center of that hall was a set of wide carpeted stairs leading downward.

I held on
to the banister as I walked down the steps. At the bottom was a vast room, softly illuminated by the flickering light of a fireplace. At the very end of it, a glass wall reached two stories and beyond the glass, a dark void. On my left, a large flat screen monitor hung on the wall and in front of it, an oversized white leather sectional curved around a massive carved coffee table. Past the sectional and a closed door was a round gaming table, seating six.

To my immediate right an elaborate centerpiece of silk flowers and heavy silver candlesticks crowned a glass dining table surrounded by
aqua silk covered chairs. Beyond it, in a foyer, a set of white, elaborately carved doors.

On either side of the room were a few
more doors but what was most impressive was a large fireplace with several oversized leather chairs and ottomans. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my chest. Maybe if I concentrated hard enough, clicked my heels a couple times, this dream would go somewhere warm, tropic, with a big beach.

A small noise came from behind me. I looked over my shoulder. The woman with the angelic face carried a tray. “There you are. Are you feeling better? I bet you’re starving.” She glided to the fireplace and set the tray down next to one of the oversized leather chairs
in front of the fire. “Please, come sit where it’s warm.”

Well shit, I was hoping for a beach.

I sighed in disappointment then did as she’d asked. She placed a blanket around my shoulders and then set a warm bowl in my hands. She sat down on an ottoman in front of me. I looked down. “It’s hot chocolate. I made it myself, an old family recipe.” I took a sip. It was the perfect temperature, not too hot, not to cold. I drank it down, watching her face until it was half gone. She reached out for the bowl and I slowly handed it to her. Oh well, no tropics but the chocolate was good.

She placed a small plate and napkin on my lap. A sandwich, cut in half, the crusts cut away, lay in the center. Why in the world
would my brain remove crusts of bread in a dream?

She made a light gesture. “Please, eat.” She watched me raise one-half of a sandwich to my mouth and after a hesitation, I took a bite. “Please don’t be shy, you’ll hurt my feelings. We don’t often have guests.” She laughed, sweetly, almost musical. She had the same pale, flawless skin as Michael
’s. I gazed at her in amazement, eating my sandwich, studying that perfect face. Her makeup must have been air-brushed. I wondered what would happen next in this seemingly pleasant fantasy. Anything could happen in a dream. It could go from good to bad in the blink of an instant.

She looked behind her. I turned my head, following her movements. There he stood, half-hidden in shadows.

“Michel …,” she said as she reached out with one of her pale hands.

Michel. She had called him Michel. I was definitely dreaming.

He moved forward and stopped several feet behind her. She rolled her eyes in frustration, dropping her arm.

She turned to me. “I’m sorry Liz, I’m afraid he’s overly worried his presence will cause you to run screaming.” She
turned back around, frowned, and then stood. “Well, it’s time I leave you two alone.” She reached down to touch my hand as if to reassure me. Then she brushed past him, giving him another look, almost a warning.

It was suddenly perfectly clear. My obsession with Dr. Marcheon had me imagining myself in his house on the cliffs with his sister.

He sat down across from me and leaned back, his hands resting on his lap. Something began to itch under my skin. Something so horrible that I could almost see it throw its head back and scream at me to let it out. Its claws began to rip at its cage, tearing through metal, shredding it.

We wrestled,
I and that something. With the sound of tearing metal, the claws ripped through the door of the cage and it crawled out to loom over me. It was ugly and grotesque. There was no question that my seemingly harmless dream was a nightmare. She was right. I wanted to run screaming – run screaming from this new nightmare, one that seemed to be all too real. I began to shudder. Wake up, wake up quick.

“Liz …
,” he began, “I am so sorry.”

I went rigid at the sound of his voice. He looked down at his hands, bringing them together, twisting them, as if thinking carefully over his words. He turned to me with almost a pained, tentative look. “Liz, I’m sorry I frightened you, I’m sorry you had to see … what you did see.”

He looked away to the fire burning brightly in the hearth, and shifted to lean closer, his elbows on his thighs, his long graceful fingers linked together. The firelight flickered over his face and hands, warming them with a soft gold. He sighed.

I was silent, my brain struggling to escape a quagmire. I was too frightened to move.

“What you thought you saw in the forest … is something I never intended you to see. It’s not something I intend anyone ... any human to see.”

The word human registered. I lost the feeling in my arms and legs; I began to feel light headed. I mouthed, questioning, “Human ...”

He looked back at the fire, his eyes tight with pain. “Liz, I’m not like you,” he stated, frowning into the fire.

“Not like me ...
,” I whispered, not knowing what to think, my mind sluggish. The word human was still echoing in my mind.

“No.” He closed his eyes for a moment then looked deeply into mine. He let out a deep breath
. “I try … we try very hard to hide, to blend in. Sometimes …,” he paused, “sometimes it’s unavoidable.”

He took a deep breath, almost hesitant. “Many have names for us. I’m sure you
’ve heard of some of them: Vrykolakas, Strigoi, Nosferatu ...Vampyre.”