by David Estes
She needed to find him, to ask him the hard questions. Like why did he look like a human glow worm? And why were his eyes black? Or had he ever dreamed about deadly black snakes with blood-red eyes?
Over the next week she looked for him. Everywhere she went she was distracted, trying to take in each face that she passed, searching for the boy. Her search intensified when she realized that she hadn’t dreamed of snakes since that night—that final nightmare. He had slayed her demon, and the very least she could do was thank him for it.
Desperate for answers, Taylor went to the student registry office as a last resort. The girl behind the counter looked up at her suspiciously, her eyes narrowing and eyebrows forming a V, as if anyone that came into the office looking for information must be up to some sort of mischief, or criminal activity. She looked Taylor up and down as she approached, lingering on Taylor’s necklace and assortment of rings, in particular. Taylor was glad her tattoo wasn’t visible from the front.
She waited for the girl to initiate the conversation, maybe ask her how she could help her or welcome her or something. Instead, the girl continued to scowl at her. After thirty seconds of awkwardness, Taylor said, “I was wondering if you could help me.”
“I can’t give out confidential information,” the girl replied coldly.
Damn, she’s good, Taylor thought. How could she possibly know that Taylor wasn’t looking for information about herself? She needed to change tactics. Intuition told her that honesty was the best approach.
“I understand, but please just hear me out. This is going to sound pathetic, but there’s this guy. I know his name, but nothing else. I didn’t really like him, but then he was in my dream and he kind of saved me. I really just need to find him.” Silence filled the room. Pathetic. She was pathetic. Thinking back on her words, she realized how ridiculous they sounded, how desperate. But she was desperate. She didn’t know any other way than to just be true to herself.
Taylor turned to leave and mumbled, “I’m sorry I wasted your time…”
“Wait,” the girl said.
Taylor turned, surprised to hear a response.
The girl’s face had softened. “Look, I really need this job, so I can’t break any rules, but technically if I just tell you the general area that he lives in I wouldn’t be giving out his address. What’s his name?” She didn’t ask for Taylor’s name, probably for both of their sakes.
Dumbfounded, Taylor said, “Gabriel Knight.”
The girl’s eyes focused on her computer screen. Her fingers moved the mouse rapidly, clicking intermittently with practiced precision. She typed something, probably his name, and then said, “Freshman dorms.”
“Which one?” Taylor asked, pressing her luck.
The girl sighed, as if it pained her to be hamstringed by the rigidity of the rules assigned to her post. “Starts with a J and ends with a Y. You’d better go.”
“Thanks,” Taylor said, grinning. She exited the office. Ignoring the crowded buses outside the registry office, Taylor raced back on foot to the freshman dorms. Her black sneakers felt light, like they had grown wings that now buoyed them up. She was wearing moderately ripped denim shorts and mismatched socks, one black and one gray. Lately she had felt compelled to cover her tattoo, out of reverence to the slain beast, and today was no different—her t-shirt hid all but the crown of its scaly head.
She noticed a few strange looks as she ran past, but they didn’t bother her. She was immune to embarrassment, always had been, a testament to her mother’s mantra about being different.
Arriving at the edge of the freshman dorms, she slowed to a walk, striding purposefully towards her destination: Jacoby Hall. It was the only freshman dorm that started with a J and ended with a Y. Little Miss Rules at the registry office hadn’t been so by-the-book after all. She had practically given Taylor the exact location of her quarry.
Upon reaching Jacoby Hall, Taylor stopped outside the metal security doors. While each dormitory had student-ID card readers on each door to prevent non-residents from acquiring access, the security system wasn’t particularly effective. Taylor only had to wait about five minutes before two boys exited the dorm, holding the door open for Taylor to pass through. This classic move was referred to by the students as piggy-backing, and was a generally accepted method of travel unless you looked homeless, smelled like you hadn’t had a shower for a week, or were carrying a bloody knife. Girls were practically immune to the rules anyway, posing no real threat of rape, violence, or other untoward behavior. Even if Taylor had had a bloody knife, smelled like rotten fish, and was wearing a tattered, bright-orange, prison jumpsuit, she still likely would have been able to piggy-back into any dorm on campus. “Thanks,” she said. As expected, the guys didn’t question her motives, probably thinking she was just another girlfriend coming to see her guy.
Finding Gabriel would not be difficult. Each floor had a cork noticeboard with various news and information posted on it. There was also a listing of all residents by room number. No one lived on the first floor, so Taylor climbed the stairs to the second. Ever since she entered the building, her heart had begun hammering in her chest. She was vaguely aware of the pounding thuds, but didn’t stop to think about them, afraid that she might lose her nerve if she did. The second floor’s noticeboard did not include anyone named Gabriel. Neither did the third’s or the fourth’s.
The fifth floor listing had a Gabriel Dayton, causing Taylor to pause. Could he have given her a fake last name? While unlikely, she chose to err on the side of caution. The potential Gabriel was in room 510, only two doors down, couldn’t hurt to check. She knocked twice hard. “Coming!” she heard someone yell.
The door began to open. “How’d you get through security?” a voice asked around the door. A face appeared. “Oh,” the boy said. “I thought you were the pizza man.”
The boy was definitely not Gabriel. At least not the Gabriel she was looking for. He had long, black hair, constructed into greasy-looking dreadlocks. His face was absurdly narrow and pale, with gaunt, green eyes and about two days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He reminded her of the killer’s mask in the movie, Scream. While not who she was looking for, he could be his roommate. “Gabriel?” Taylor asked.
“That’s what my mom called me when I was born, but mostly friends just call me Silk,” he replied. Taylor thought he might have been giving her some kind of a line, but the look in his eyes told her he was dead serious.
“Fascinating,” Taylor said. “Sorry, wrong Gabriel.” Before he shut the door, she turned and headed back to the stairwell, making her way to the second to last floor, the sixth. Jackpot. The first name on the list was him. Gabriel Knight. Room 601. No roommate was listed. He had a single room, which was very rare for freshman, who were mostly bundled into doubles and triples due to space constraints. Thud, thud. Thud, thud. Her restless heart continued to pound, the drum beat so loud now that she thought it might be audible outside of her body. It was now or never. Seize the day.
The first room on each floor was the one next to the stairwell; she had walked right past 601 on the way to the noticeboard. She knocked twice and then waited expectantly. No answer. She tried to look backwards through the peephole, but saw only black, like it had been covered by something. She knocked again. No response. He must be out. At least she knew where to find him now. She would have to try again later.
Chapter Seven
He watched her out his window. She must know someone in his building. Probably just a coincidence. Gabriel had waited patiently for nearly three weeks. Waiting for the right time to approach her again. He had entered her dreams twice now. Saved her twice. The next time she saw him, she would trust him implicitly.
She entered Jacoby Hall, moving out of his sight. A couple of nerds had let her in. He was tempted to seek her out, but acting on impulses was immature and would eventually lead to failure. Restraining himself, he satisfied his urge to act by going through each sequence of his mission plan in ex
cruciating detail. He was nearly finished when he heard the knock on the door. Probably just another one of the idiot guys on his floor looking for someone to hang out with.
Still, with the dark one lurking around, he couldn’t be too careful. Before opening the door, he put an eye to the peephole.
What he saw shocked him.
The girl. Of all people, the girl. She had found him. He watched as she put her own brown eye to the tiny glass portal, attempting to see beyond the door. For a moment their eyes locked. He held his breath. Could she see him? She pulled back from the peephole and knocked once more. He ignored her and continued watching. Then she left.
Moving back to the window, Gabriel waited for her to exit the building and then watched her walk west, back towards her dorm, Shyloh Hall. Undoubtedly, she would be back. He needed to act faster than he anticipated. He was the Hunter, not the Hunted. Everything felt backwards. Using his computer-like brain, his thoughts spun faster and faster through his head, teetering on the edge of chaos. He analyzed every angle of what had just happened, until he reached the conclusion. It was obvious, really. He had given her his name and she had inquired about him. Some careless office worker had probably given her the information she wanted: his address, maybe even his phone number.
But why had she gone to such great lengths to find him? Perhaps he had underestimated the importance of the snake to her, considering she had it tattooed on her back. She might be obsessed with seeing him again. Infatuated by the one who set her free from fear. Yeah, that was probably it. If so, his mission was nearly complete, he would barely have to make any effort at all to seduce her.
Even still, he preferred to be the Hunter. It was time to act.
Chapter Eight
Taylor arrived back at Shyloh Hall at five o’clock on Saturday evening. She took a shower and then dressed for dinner, wearing gray sweatpants and a t-shirt. Sam was working on a paper at her desk.
“How’s it going?” Taylor asked, as she slipped each of her rings back on one at a time.
“Good. Nearly done with the first draft. I’ve finished enough of it to let us have some fun tonight!” Sam flashed a smile. Taylor marveled at how contagious her friend’s smile was. She could almost certainly win smile contests, if there was such a thing.
Grinning, Taylor said, “Good, then you can help me find this guy…”
In the middle of typing a sentence, Sam’s fingers froze. “What did you say, Tay?”
“Don’t make me repeat it.”
“It’s just…this is a monumental day. I have never heard those words roll from your lips.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s not what you think. It’s just a guy I met once that I want to talk to.”
“Hmmm….Sounds like more than that to me. Of course I’ll help you though. Let’s go grab Marla, get some food, and we can make plans.”
They found Marla, and by default, Jennings, and took the surprisingly efficient elevator to the ground floor. They made their way along the path to the Commons.
“Tell me all about him,” Sam said.
“Maybe later.”
“Tell you about who?” Marla asked.
“No one.”
“Now, now, Tay. It’s no big deal,” Sam said. Turning to Marla, she said, “Taylor just has a thing for some guy.”
Taylor was about to contradict her friend, when she noticed a familiar figure on the other side of the lawn, sitting with a group of guys. She tensed, a look of alarm crossing her face. From this distance his features were fuzzy, but in her mind flashed the image of the Being from her dream, surrounded by light, emerging from the mist. Like the rainy day on the lawn, she could discern a slight glow about him.
She realized that the path they were on was heading directly for him. She slowed to a stop.
“What’s wrong, Tay?” Sam asked.
“Umm, nothing. You know that guy I was talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s him.”
“Who?” Sam asked.
“That boy in the middle of the group.” Taylor tried to gesture discreetly.
Just as Sam, Marla and Jennings turned to look at who Taylor was referring to, the boy turned his head slightly, his gaze falling directly upon her. Taylor wanted to look away, but she found herself incapacitated, unable to pull her eyes from his face, from his eyes, as he locked on her stare. Despite having been saved by him in her dream, she found herself fearful upon seeing him again. She was being irrational, she told herself.
“Oh, I met him one night. He’s Gabriel Knight,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t know you knew him too, Tay.”
Taylor pulled her stare away from Gabriel long enough to reply, “I don’t really. We just talked once on the lawn.”
“I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s gorgeous, but there’s something strange about him. He was nice enough, I guess. He seems interested in you though, Tay. I think he’s coming over.”
Gabriel left his friends behind, sauntering over towards Taylor, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Hi, Gabriel,” Sam said. “This is Marla and Jennings.” She motioned to each of them in turn. “And I think you already know Taylor.”
Ignoring Marla and Jennings, he said, “Oh yeah, the one from the lawn. Do you still have the four-leaf clover?” Gabriel’s voice was seductive with a soft musical tone to it.
“I think I lost it,” Taylor lied. She felt uneasy in his presence, as if she was in some kind of danger.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” He spoke only to Taylor, taking her hand.
When his hand touched hers, the images from the first nightmare rushed back into her mind. The burning in her throat, the cold grey fog, and the two Beings—one of whom was a dead ringer for Gabriel—became vivid pictures in her head, as if they were memories from real life, rather than just a dream. Taylor wanted to scream, but instead she shook his hand from hers and said, “Slow down, cowboy, we were just heading to dinner.”
Gabriel’s face fell, his confidence dissipating. He looked a bit stunned, like he had never been rejected before. As quickly as his smile had disappeared, he was grinning again. “Last one there’s a freshman geek!” he yelled as he took off.
Naturally, Sam was the first one after him, although Marla and Jennings weren’t far behind. Taylor recovered from her brief shock and jogged towards the Commons. Given her late start, she was the last one into the building and the rest of the group were already there laughing, as if they were old friends.
“I guess you’re the geek. Sorry, Taylor,” Gabriel teased.
“It isn’t the first time,” Taylor joked back. She tried not to look at him, but couldn’t help herself. Even out of the sunlight, in the artificial lighting, he had a glow about him, just like the Being from her dream. She was surprised that no one else seemed to notice. The glow appeared to intensify around his head, almost like some of the paintings she had seen of the archangel Gabriel in her high school art history class. Funny that he should wear the same name. Gabriel.
As Taylor looked closer at the bright face before her, his perfect features suggested he was a model for a men’s fashion magazine. Again, she noticed his unusually dark eyes. While it was obvious that they were blue, the ring of color was extremely thin relative to the size of his black pupils. This gave his eyes a very dark appearance, like a rock star who wore too much black eye makeup.
The Commons were well-lit and so, she expected his pupils to contract, to regulate the amount of light entering his eyes. She glanced at her other friends’ eyes and could see that their pupils had contracted to tiny specks, while his remained fully dilated. Odd, she thought to herself. As she mulled over her observations, she realized that the other four were looking at her, laughing.
“Earth to Tay…,” Sam droned, waving her hand in front of Taylor’s face.
“Sorry, I think I spaced. Let’s go get some food. See you later, Gabriel,” she said, eliminating any chance that Gabriel would th
ink that he had been invited. Taylor felt out of control—this was not the way she had planned her next meeting with him. Needing to think, she turned and walked towards the entrance to the dining hall.
Gabriel chased after her. “Hold up, Taylor!” He looked a little sheepish, like he was unsure of himself, a far cry from the confident guy she had seen earlier. “Would you…would you like to hang out some time?” he asked.
Taylor was a bit surprised by his request, and by the adolescent quality to it. Hang out? He was potentially some kind of radioactive, dream-invading alien and he wanted to hang out? She also wasn’t used to this kind of attention, which was typically reserved for Samantha. “Um, let me think about it, Gabriel,” she said.
“No problem, can I have your cell number so I know how to get in touch with you?”
“Why don’t you give me your number and I can call you when I’ve thought about it?” She thought it sounded a bit harsh as she was saying it, but Gabriel seemed unfazed by the line that was normally the kiss of death for a guy.
“Sure, sounds great,” he said. While he read out the digits, she typed his number into her iPhone under “Gabriel Glow-worm”.
“See ya, Gabe,” she said, waving goodbye.
“Only my grandmother calls me that,” he retorted.
As soon as they entered the dining hall, Sam started the interrogation. “Why didn’t you invite him to dinner?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel up to it.”
“Well, are you going to call him?” Sam asked, clearly excited that Taylor had attracted the attention of a good-looking guy. Sam was always trying to play matchmaker for her and had grand dreams of them getting married in the same year to guys who were best friends, too.
“I really do have to think about it,” Taylor said.
“What’s to think about? He’s gorgeous and he’s clearly interested in you! And you were the one who said you wanted me to help you find him.”
