Tainted Blood (16 page)

He was not about to lose risking those dreams just because of one night of what had to be just lust. He wasn't going down that road, not ever. Closing his mind off, Brian concentrated until he felt the familiar tearing that announced his arrival into his dream state. The grayness of the landscape rose in every direction from where he stood. A vague picture of the motel room surrounded him, yet it seemed more of a mirage rather than reality. He had to be careful not to focus on anything in the room, otherwise he would concentrate on it too much and make the room more solid, and then he would risk being stuck again until he could clear his mind of it. He thought about Heather and her blonde hair. Her clear blue eyes and sweet smile.

Normally that would have been more than enough to take him to her, but with this strange cage she was being held in, it was near imposable to find her without strict concentration. She was out there, however. A pulse of light in the distance, no bigger than a pinhead when he tried to picture it, but the more he concentrated on it, the more it grew, changing shape until it became a room, and then a bed with the one person he wanted to see more than anything.

“Heather, can you hear me?” He called out to her when he found himself standing in the room. Heather was once again sitting on her bed, he legs drawn to her chest with her face buried into them.

Her face appeared as she looked up at him, and the tears running down her cheeks were the first thing that he noticed. Under her eyes were dark blemishes, sunken and red.

“Brian?” She whispered, “Brian, is that you?”

Brian held open his arms to her, but she just sat there and stared at him with those sullen eyes.

“No!” She yelled at him. “You're not going to trick me again, Jason!” She lowered her face back down into her legs, and her body shook with great sobs. He was in shock. He never considered the fact that Jason would try to trick her by pretending he was Brian. What kind of monster was that guy? It wasn't enough to kidnap her, to take advantage of her while she dreamed, but now he had to torment her as well? That man was going to pay. Before everything was over, Brian would make sure of it.

Walking over to her, Brian sat down on the side of her bed and put his arm around her shoulders, trying to hug her.

“Heather, it's me. I'm really here in your dreams this time.” He felt her crying stop after a moment, and she turned to look up at him, her eyes even more red than before.

“How can I know?” She asked still in a whisper. “How do I know you're not just him, wanting to get my hopes up, just so you can dash them again?”

Brian shook his head, tears starting to form in his eyes as he looked at her. He didn't know how to answer that. How could he? There was no definitive proof that he could offer her. He only had his own word, and he wasn't sure that would be enough.

“Heather, I don't have any idea what this monster has done to you, but I promise you, he's going to pay for it.”

Heater leaned into Brian’s chest and just sat there sniffling as Brian wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her heart starting to slow as he held her, and it was sometimes amazing (and it was amazing)? to him that dream bodies could perfectly simulate real life ones. Never in a million years would he have thought that dream forms would have a heart beat, but then, everything around them was made from their subconscious and he supposed heart beats, as well as breathing, would be what he would expect as the norm.

Brian kissed the top of her head, the smell of her hair exactly the way he remembered it the last time, so long ago it seemed. Time had no meaning as he sat there and held her. He wanted to do more with her, to encourage her and to tell her his plans to rescue her, but he didn't. It was enough to just hold her in her time of need. After awhile, he began to feel a tug somewhere in his gut, and a wave of fatigue that followed it.

“Brian?” Heather sat up and looked at him., her eyes searching his face. “It's you?”

He smiled at her, and nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“But how--” she stammered.

“Shh, that’s not important right now.” He placed a finger across her mouth. “I'm here now, and that's all that’s important.”

She smiled then relaxed as she laid her head back onto his chest. Brian placed his chin on her head and began to caress her long golden hair. The tugging began to worsen as he held her, and he knew he was going to have to go soon, otherwise he could be out of it for a week again or worse. That wouldn't do Heather any good.

A small snore came from Heather as he held her, announcing that she had fallen asleep. Moments later, her body dissipated into mist. He was sad that she left, but she did need the rest. He had to go as well, otherwise...

Moments later he was standing in a green forest. Something about it looked familiar. A path seemed to be nearby, and the sound of moaning seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby as well.

“Well this is odd...” He mumbled to himself. “I should have woken up, not gone on to another dream.”

The possibility that he had entered another dream that Heather created crossed his mind, but even if it was familiar, it didn't feel the same as Heathers. “No, this is definitely someone else's.” He had an idea of whose it was.

He briefly considered just waking up, but curiosity was getting the best of him. Arguably, he should investigate it just to see who could pull him into a dream against his will. The path wasn't that far away, so he headed for it. It didn't take long before he came upon a grass hill, surrounded by the forest. A bed with white linen sat atop of it. Its movements suggested that it was currently in use, and was clearly where the sounds originated from.

Brian sneaked up the hill in an attempt to verify what he believed he already knew. He doubted it was necessary, as no one could have heard his approach over the racket, but he still wanted to be careful. If he should startle whoever was dreaming, he could inadvertently wake them. That would end the dream, possibly without giving him a chance to ID them. The back of the bed had a large brass backboard, so he approached from that side, using it for cover. When he reached it, he closed his eyes and willed for a thick pea soup fog to surround him. It appeared instantly, but because it was a dream, it was much harder to control. Stray thoughts had a way of causing his illusions to just disappear, or even do other weird things. The last thing he needed was to have tendrils of fog reach up and maybe tickle or pinch the two he was trying to view.

When he felt the fog was in place he walked around to the side of the bed to get a better view. He couldn't help but feel like a voyeur, yet he told himself this was necessary. He had to know whose dream it was. The worst he could imagine was that he had somehow found himself in Heather's dream, and he was about to catch Jason violating his one true love. To his relief, this nightmare was not what he found. To his chagrin, it was the second worst possibility.

Meryl lay underneath a simulacrum of himself, and this version of him had bit her several times from all the puncture wounds he could see. Most of them were still running with fresh blood, while his other self rested atop her, slamming himself into her as quickly as he could. Meryl for her part was oblivious to everything around her. Her eyes were closed while her neck and back arched and her legs rose straight up in the air. The scene was somehow bestial, and yet tantalizing. He could feel desire rising up inside his loins as he watched the scene unfold. The taste of her blood began to fill his mouth as he watched, and without realizing it, his fangs emerged from their hiding place.

Oh my God.
He thought, as he threw his hand over his mouth, hiding his fangs from no one in particular.
What the hell is happening to me?

He fled from the dream in all haste, a part of him actually fleeing from himself.

He sat up on his bed and walked over to the fridge, grabbing an IV and tearing it open. He drank its contents, ignoring the bitter taste that it left in his mouth. He didn't care about the taste, all he needed was to take his mind off of her, off of the blood that still somehow haunted his taste buds. When he finished that, he looked for the bottle of vodka that he had picked up one night weeks ago. He had used it as an excuse to go into a store he hadn't been in before. It worked well enough to buy it, and he didn't even have to suggest the clerk when he paid for it. The aura of suggestion seemed to grow stronger around him each day.

He found the bottle, and without waiting to find a cup he began to down the liquid. His body wanted to reject it immediately, but he didn't care. He drank more of it in an attempt to rid himself of Meryl's blood. It was a strange taste, and added with his body's rejection of it, it seemed to work, as by the time he finished it the taste of Meryl was gone. Putting the bottle down, he staggered over to the bed and flung himself down on it. The motion of the bed made him feel nauseous as he laid there.

Before he knew it, he was asleep. A dreamless sleep, or at least dreams that he could not remember. When he awoke, the room seemed distorted, and the light that bled into the room through the curtain hurt his eyes. A great pain throbbed behind his eyes, and dryness that he could not remember ever having filled his mouth. It felt almost like he could blow dust out of it.

Brian made his way to the fridge on weak legs, where he grabbed an IV. He made a mental note that he was halfway through his supply already, then made his way back to the bed. The coldness of the IV filled with blood felt good against his head. He laid it there until it had warmed and no longer comforted his head.

The pain and weakness left him as he drank the blood, and fire filled his mouth and stomach. Not the fire like Meryl's blood, but fire well enough. By the time he finished the IV, whatever effects the Vodka had left in him were gone.

The morning disappeared into afternoon by the time a knock at the door stopped Brian from pacing inside his small apartment. He had no idea who it could be, as no one usually came to his door. It wasn't like the girl scouts went door to door at a motel. It didn't matter who it was, really, he was grateful for any distraction from his worrying over how slow the operation was going. Opening the door, Brian was surprised to find his aunt standing with two men he had never seen before. His first thought was that they were agents, but he quickly threw that idea out, as neither of them wore the typical garb.

Both of them towered over his aunt, who was as least average height for a woman. In fact they were much taller than Brian, probably 6'5'' if not 6'6''. They were not slim men, either, as both of them had arms that were as big around as his thigh, and barrel chests that would put some bodybuilders to shame. The dark hared one with the sunglasses wore a black leather biker's coat and matching gloves that were left off of his fingers. The second one had blonde, curly hair that ran down to his waist. He wore a light brown leather trench coat. He looked like something out of a Wild West movie, the straw cowboy hat which sat on his head definitely enhanced the impression of an old west movie.

“Brian,” his aunt said through a pleasant smile.

The fact that she had knocked for once, not to mention her pleasant demeanor, put him on instant guard. He found himself wishing it had been later in the evening and that it had been Bobby knocking instead. Whatever was about to happen, Brian had a feeling he wasn't going to like it at all.

“Hello, Aunty.” Brian tried to sound as confident as he could. The two men only briefly looked at him, instead keeping their eyes moving across the parking lot into the nearby street. They were obviously watching out for something, or perhaps making sure there were no witnesses.

“Are you going to ask us in?” She asked politely.

That was the question. Should he invite them in? How many shows had he seen in his lifetime where that was the trick vampires used to get into a person's home? The poor, unsuspecting victims said yes just to be polite, and gave their attackers free access to their home and them. The truth was, however, he had no idea if these two men were vampires. There just was no way for him to tell, not to mention the fact that he didn't have a clue if Jason and vampires like him had to ask permission. Had he needed permission to enter Heather's home? Brian had no idea. It was times like these that made everything worse. It seemed like everyone in the world knew more than he did when it came to the most important matters.

“Well?” She asked sweetly. For just a moment, Brian almost said no. He really wanted to, but he had to know. Were these men here to kill him, or maybe to punish him for some reason?

“Why, sure, Aunty, you're more than welcome to come in.” He smiled and moved out of the way so she could enter. She did so without hesitation. The two men briefly scanned the street, then bent their heads down a bit and then walked in after her.
Well, they aren't vampires.
Brian thought to himself,
otherwise the stories aren't true.
Brian closed the door, then quickly moved to his one green chair before anyone else could take it.

“Brian, I'd like you to meet Mack,” she pointed to the guy in a trench coat and hat. “And Carl.” She nodded quickly to the dark haired fellow.

“What can I do for you today?” Brian asked, in an attempt to keep up whatever charade his aunt was playing at.

“Mack and Carl are with the local pack,” she answered, “They're here to help us with our little problem.”

By 'our little problem', he assumed she meant the werewolf, which, as far as he knew, was still at large. As to the pack, he figured she meant they themselves were werewolves as well. He decided to go with that notion until he heard otherwise.