Dream the Crow's Black Dream - A Tale of Vampires Book Four

by John Hennessy

  “This could be the one,” said Seth, “but there’s no crow here. There was a crow in the dream.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” said Ricky. “You haven’t checked the gravestone. You really should. There are always more than words here.”

  Out of habit, Seth checked his watch. 3.55pm. Had they been here so long?

  “I can check it tomorrow,” said Seth confidently. “You’ll be looking to shut up for the night.”

  “You could check it tomorrow, although it might not be here,” answered Ricky cryptically. “But it could also be in the same place. When you next dream the crow’s black dream, it will give you its location. You won’t remember though, not all anyway. Just pieces of it. Then, you’ll come back to me, and we’ll have to go through this all over again.”

  Seth tried to process the information in his had before speaking. “What do you mean? Dream the crow’s black dream? We’ll have to go through this all over again? We’ve met before, is that what you’re saying? We’ve gone through all this before?”

  “Ah well, squire, it is time to be going now. Look at the time.”

  “How can I go after all you’ve said?

  “Because it is time to be going now.”

  Seth followed Ricky back to the southern part of the cemetery, and decided to ask no further questions. On reflection, he knew he had not seen this Ricky before. Maybe he was the weirdo hanging around in the cemetery. His manner, the way he talked, walked and laughed, all served to unsettle Seth. He was glad to be going home, and whether or not he dreamed the crow’s black dream again, he was certain of one thing.

  For the first time in two years, he would not be visiting the cemetery tomorrow.

  ***

  Seth’s sleep was disturbed, but it was hard to tell if he was dreaming of the crow again. The image of that gravestone, with its covering of moss on the left side, and was en masse to such a degree on the top left of the stone that Seth found himself wondering what exactly a cemetery attendant actually does with his time.

  “At least clear the moss off it,” said Seth, in the manner of someone who was talking in their sleep. His fiancée kicked his leg under the bedsheets, and mumbled something about go back to sleep.

  But Seth could not sleep. He flung the bedsheets back, and in the darkness felt for his clothes. A jogging top and tracksuit bottoms later, and he was ready to go.

  His heart was already racing as he cleared the last five stairs in his home in one jump. One more fumble in the dark for his keys, which made such a clattering noise that the voice from upstairs shouted at him, then went back to sleep straight away.

  “Yeah, you sleep, Roz. You sleep.”

  His fiancée would not agree to Seth leaving the house in the dead of night. It was quiet on the road. He could have taken the car, but Seth elected to make use of the bracing night air. Besides, the cemetery was less than three miles away.

  As he walked, he passed the usual drunk with a beer in his hand. A group of lads hanging around and up to no good, who sniggered as Seth passed by them. The cars that were parked on the side of the road had a bird on them, hopping on one roof before jumping to the next parked car.

  Seth squinted his eyes. Was it a crow?

  As he tried to make out which type of bird it was, it coughed up something on top of the car. Seth could not pull his eyes away from the grotesque image.

  He wanted to see what the bird was coughing up.

  It was moss, exactly the same as the moss that appeared on the grave from earlier in Seth’s rather bizarre dream.

  The crow took a cursory glance at Seth, before flying into the night sky.

  He turned the corner into the next road, and there was a funeral procession taking place. Four horses with black plumes lay ahead of the carriage, with hearse in the back carrying a coffin which beared a name.

  The name of S-E-T-H was spelt in flowers that were comprised of black and red roses.

  There was something seeping out from the hearse, but Seth would need to get closer to see what it was. The image was disturbing him greatly. The back door of the hearse opened as Seth approached. He was almost overwhelmed – not by the stench of death, but of the black soil that the coffin would have been submerged in.

  Seth could see what it was.

  Body parts. First, a hand, his hand, with the engagement ring on his little finger; the very same emerald ring he had given to Rosalyn.

  The hand wasn’t attached to anything of substance; just a few bloody entrails of an arm.

  The torso had liquefied, and just spilled out onto the floor. Finally, a skull appeared, bony and cold. At first the skull bounced on the ground, before slowing up as it became embroiled within the liquid mess, before arriving and settling at Seth’s feet.

  “Hey! Wait!”

  Seth shouted out to the horseman, a figure in black that appeared to ignore him completely. Two people were inside the carriage, a man and a woman, but they seemed to be unaware of Seth. They were also dressed completely out of period for the time.

  Seth tried to keep up with the carriage, but found he could not. In the middle of the road, and at the dead of night, he came to a full stop and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, he started laughing hysterically.

  “Oh, thank God! It’s a dream, a bloody dream!”

  He doubled up on the road. Seth thought that if anyone was observing him, they would conclude he was a mental case that had somehow escaped the institution, and that it was desirable to keep a good distance from him.

  His laughing was brought to a sharp halt by the sight of a shadow appearing around him. The horse carriage had returned, only this time, the two travellers were not inside.

  The horseman pointed to Seth, before pointing a finger towards the carriage. The door, made of beechwood and fine glass, swung open gently.

  “I want to go to the cemetery,” said Seth, trying to get a command of the situation, and a grip of himself. “Will you take me there?”

  The horseman nodded.

  “I’ve got money,” said Seth, who rummaged around in his pockets. “How much do you want?”

  The horseman laughed a throaty, deep chortle that sounded like rats climbing over each other as they made their escape from a sewer.

  “There is not a figure you can offer,” said the horseman. As he spoke, an unseen force flung Seth into the carriage, the door slammed shut, and the horseman whipped his charges into a ferocious gallop.

  As they sped through the streets, Seth found it difficult to keep on his seat, and slid off on many occasions. The noise of the horses’ hooves were so loud, that the horseman could not hear anything Seth was saying. Or perhaps he chose not to listen.

  Seth had one clear thought. At this speed, we’ve gone more than three miles. Where is he taking me?

  Modern roads changed to dark country lanes, but the horses kept up their frantic pace. Finally, they came to a stop. Seth examined his bruises, and was nursing a split lip.

  “Where am I? I told you to take me to the cemetery.”

  “And I told you there was not a price you can offer,” replied the horseman. “Though I would accept a shilling and six pence; for the upkeep of my horses, you understand.”

  Seth mulled it over. A shilling and sixpence? That was old English money.

  “How about a fiver?” That was the smallest note Seth had on his person.

  The horseman nodded.

  “Now you will answer my question,” said Seth, who was struggling to keep his composure. “Where am I?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. You are still in the Midlands. Why don’t you get a drink? You look like you need one.”

  “That’s the first sensible thing you have said this night,” retorted Seth. “Now where would I get a drink? The place looks deserted.”

  The horseman pointed at a building in the distance. It had a picture outside of a bird. Seth concentrated hard, and tried to make out what it was. He was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, but o
ne thing was certain – it was not a crow.

  “You’ll be welcome there,” said the horseman. “The locals call it The Raven.”

  Dark Legend

  “No,” said Seth to no-one in particular. “This can NOT be happening. It was a myth, a legend. It wasn’t real. What she did was real, but that was two years ago.

  He looked around. He was alone, save for the lights that lit the Inn of the Blood and the Raven.

  The horseman, of course, had already gone.

  “You bastard,” uttered Seth, and he could actually hear the echo of his voice.

  Seth decided that it might just be possible to enjoy himself. If the situation played out in the way he hoped, then he would probably wake up in his bed. This could be all a dream within a dream. That was his reasoning. He decided that he would make use of the hateful tale that he was forced to tell, and use it to turn the tables on whoever was doing this to him.

  If it was just a dream, then it wouldn’t matter.

  He looked above just in time, side stepping the blood that dripped from the real raven that clung to the sign post.

  “No, you’re not getting me. Not even in a dream,” smiled Seth.

  On opening the door, he expected it to be quiet. But of course, at this time of night, it was to be expected.

  However, inside were a throng of people – playing darts, drinking heartily, music playing. Even though Seth was dressed differently to them, they didn’t seem to notice. They wore clothing that would not have looked out of place in Victorian times.

  Seth laughed out loud. “Oh, it’s good…this. It’s very good. Any moment now, the landlady will appear and give me a great welcome.”

  Sure enough, she appeared. Although he had been given some details about her appearance, he was rather taken aback on just how pretty and alluring she was.

  “Hello,” she said to Seth, extending a well manicured hand towards him. He took her hand in his own, and kissed it. Her skin was so cold that he shivered, but did his best to hide it.

  “My name is-”

  “Wait, let me guess,” said Seth, waving a dismissive hand. “Your name is Mariana Dreymuir.”

  “Why yes it is,” she replied. “You know of me?”

  “I know a lot about you,” replied Seth. “And your daughter.”

  “Well, you have taken me by surprise,” said Mariana, who genuinely looked shocked at Seth’s apparent knowledge of the Dreymuirs. “I really don’t know what to say.”

  Seth shrugged. “I believe you were going to say something about the population increasing this evening, and there would be a lot of people here who would find that very funny.”

  “Well, again, it would appear you have me at a disadvantage,” replied Mariana. Seth could detect an element of unease in her voice.

  “Get me a drink, and I’ll clue you in,” said Seth smartly.

  “Clue me in? Whatever does that mean?”

  Seth forgot his surroundings for a moment. “Oh, it means to tell you what I know, that’s all. I forgot the period this is supposed to be.”

  “Uh-huh,” replied Mariana. “What would you like to drink?”

  “How about Hung, Drawn and Portered?” said Seth, testing his recall of the story.

  Mariana smiled. “Ooh, we do have a smart one amongst us tonight. What’s your name?”

  “Seth McAndrew.”

  “Of course it is. Everyone, please raise your glasses to the smartest man in Birmingham – Seth McAndrew!”

  The collection of well-to-do people raised their glasses in Seth’s direction. He could only do one thing, and smile back at them.

  Mariana had disappeared around the back, but Seth knew she would be back. This was a dream, after all. He knew he would see the other one soon enough, because that was all part of the act.

  “Here’s your drink,” she said.

  “Well, hello Juliana,” smiled Seth.

  “You know me?” she replied sweetly.

  “Oh yes. I know you very well. But I would really like to talk with your mother again. Why don’t you send her out to me?”

  “My mother only talks with those she takes a fancy to,” answered Juliana sharply. “I don’t believe that you qualify.”

  “Wonderful,” smiled Seth, clapping his hands. “You really do turn on the spin of a coin, don’t you? Just like in the story.”

  “What story?”

  “It’s alright, Julie. Just run along now like a good little girl and get your mother for me.”

  “Except for drinks, I don’t take orders. I give them.”

  Seth leaned in and looked at Juliana. Her eyes were so cold, Seth had no doubt, he was in the presence of a killer. But she was not the focus of his dreams, or the Crow’s Black Dream, as the jobsworth Ricky had called it. But he did recall that Gretchen had told him one thing - Juliana was the one who made her into a vampire.

  Juliana really was the embodiment of evil.

  But this is a dream, said Seth to himself, so what I do, or what she does, doesn’t matter.

  “That’s not how I heard it,” snapped Seth. “I heard you take orders and carry them out without question.”

  “Who are you?” snarled Juliana, who had gone past caring whether or not Seth could see her fangs.

  “You don’t need to know who I am, Juliana. You only need to know that I know who you are, and more importantly, what you are.”

  “So who I am then?”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t clean up your mess.”

  At that point, Juliana grabbed Seth by the throat. He felt it – it really hurt. Her power was quite something.

  “Do you want to die?” she asked him. “Look around you. These people will look the other way when I splatter your insides over this nice bar.”

  She let go, but Seth coughed violently. It was possible her grip had bruised his neck.

  “You act all tough, Julie. But the truth is, you’re a spoilt little mommy’s girl. You don’t have a single idea in your head that she hasn’t put there. You’re a disgrace to vampires! But the one I need to put to rest; she’s the real deal. The grown-ups would like to talk now Julie, so get your mother out here now.”

  “I would be tempted bite you, but you smell like the horses that brought you here. Mother? Please come out now before this boy has a little accident.”

  Juliana turned on her heels and disappeared into the back room. Seth gave her the middle finger and laughed, only for him to start to choke.

  He could hear her stilettos hammering the floor in the back. She sounded like she was going down the stairs, Seth presumed towards her coffin.

  “Fall and break your neck, why don’t you?”

  Seth massaged his neck.

  “What a bitch.”

  “Now, now, young man. No need for that kind of talk,” said one of the strangers.

  “Let me guess,” mused Seth, holding his index finger by his chin, before pointing directly at the man, but not in a rude or offensive manner. “You’re O’Mahoney,” aren’t you?

  “Why yes I am! How did you know that?”

  “Because of the tale.”

  “Ah, so you do believe the legend of The Blood and the Raven? That it is real?”

  “I suppose I do,” replied Seth. “I think I’m putting too much faith in it. For a dream, it really hurt me when she grabbed my neck.”

  “It’s best not to antagonise the young Juliana. May I offer you a little advice, young man?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you’re going to survive this, take it more seriously. This is not a dream. This is actually happening to you.”

  In the tale, O’Mahoney was the figure who could be relied upon to tell scare stories to newcomers of The Raven.

  “What are you saying, O’Mahoney? Are you saying I will die if I don’t pay attention to what’s going on? That this is real, and not a dream?”

  O’Mahoney smiled a toothy grin, and started to walk away. He turned back to Seth and said “And they say t
he young don’t listen to the old. There is hope for you yet.”

  “Seth.”

  The voice was silky, slippery and cold, but it remained commanding all the same.

  Mariana showed her hand to point the way to one of the back rooms in the Inn. As Seth could not help but walk in that direction, he was sure he could hear nervous sniggering behind him.