The door connecting my bathroom to the bedroom opens. I should have locked it—he always has an end run. Aiden’s face is riddled with sadness and shame. He sits on the floor in front of me and pulls me close into him.
His warmth can’t shatter the wall of sadness his absence has built. I breathe in his familiar scent, my body begins to remember him, and it feels like home. I curl into him, sobbing harder. The dam has burst and now I sit fully enveloped in the arms of one of the greatest and deepest sources of pain in my life, with him as my only comfort.
Aiden strokes my hair as I lay shaking in his arms. “I’m so sorry.” Those solitary words grumble deep in his chest. He lifts me off the floor and carries me to the bed.
“No,” I whisper through the sobs now causing me to shake.
“Shh.” Aiden holds me tighter and kisses the top of my head. “I never mean to hurt you.” His words are heavy with sorrow and regret, making it harder to be angry. My tears don’t subside until sleep has won me over. Here I am again, the lesser, weaker Shay falling asleep in Aiden’s arms, and nothing is right with the world.
Chapter Two
Meet the Specter
Thick liquid from her wounds pools in her ears and slithers down her body, fills her mouth with the metallic taste of… Blood; I taste blood, she thinks, letting out a weak moan. Swimming in a dream-like silence sinks her further into confusion.
Alice’s aged and feeble body dangles by her ankles. Her bound wrists cause her arms to hang unnaturally behind her back. It’s hardly necessary; her sixty-five years and poor habits have robbed her of her ability to escape. Her body is broken.
She blinks her eyes in an effort to focus. Salt and blood sting as much as the light glaring from the incandescent bulb. Alice struggles to comprehend what’s happening, still feeling only numbness. What do I see? Her panic grows.
Holy Jesus, that’s Gary. Fear overcomes her as she tries to speak her husband’s name. Nothing but muffled cries emerge from the rag in her mouth. The smell of gasoline, motor oil, and cut grass hang in the air. She recognizes her garage. The floor is slick with blood, strange symbols smeared on the walls. The kaleidoscope stills. All is silent, but for her heart beating slower with each passing thump.
A hateful voice sneers in her mind, “This room is filled with the sweet scent of fear. Do struggle for me, love.”
Frantically she scans the garage, looking for the source of the voice. She zeros in on Gary, supine, wide open pits where his eyes once were. Why, why is this happening?
The voice in mocking tone replies, “Right place, right time.”
No, please, please don’t do this, she pleads with the voice, as though begging could change their fate.
“It is already done.” Anger rises in the voice. “There is but one task left to complete: I want you look deeply in your true love's eyes when you release your final breath.” There is a brief pause, and the anger subsides. “Consider it a gift.”
Her eyes close tight with the last of her strength as she feels a cold blade slide along her neck, piercing deep into her flesh. The thrumming in her chest diminishes more. Alice opens her lids one last time, to see two freshly extracted eyes looking straight into hers.
Darkness.
***
Shay, Dreaming
A heavy fog blankets the scenery. The full moon struggles to break through. I walk forward cautiously, unable to recognize where I am. The night air is cold on my skin and the heavy dew seeps into my unlaced boots. I wrap my arms around myself in hopes of generating some warmth. As if driven by instinct, I walk in the direction I was facing when I opened my eyes here. The sound of gravel crunches under my feet. It’s loud against the stillness of the night.
My body quivers with the anticipation of seeing him. We’ve been meeting in my dreams for over a year now. He’s my inspiration. Since the dreams started I’ve been honing my confidence and my strength. It’s like a crutch that nobody can see. My survival, through everything that has happened, has been made possible by him. It could be worse; I could’ve developed multiple personalities.
He first came to me after Elise died. It felt like I’d known him my whole life. And that makes sense—I am, after all, the one who created him. So wouldn’t that mean that he knows me?
“Is that you?” A voice pierces the fog.
My pace quickens toward the familiar sound. It’s comforting, like a warm sweater. A smile spreads across my face as I say, full of anticipation, “Gabriel!”
The fog moves around Gabriel, bending to his will as he appears in front of me. His perfection stuns me; shaggy golden hair hanging across his forehead. Pulling me into an embrace, he makes me feel completely safe in this crazy world I’ve created. My feet rise up to my toes to plant a coy kiss on his cheek. He bows down to meet my lips with his instead, bombarding me with hungry kisses. His hands are pressing into the small of my back, pulling me in closer. Pausing to catch a breath and leaning into my ear, he whispers, “I’ve been waiting for you, where have you been?”
His question causes me to stop, completely perplexed. “I don’t know.” I really hate this part, feeling so disconnected whenever we are together. I don’t let it bother me for long.
“It’s okay—we have work to do. It’s happening again.” He releases me, takes my hand and begins to walk forward. “Are you ready?”
“Of course I’m ready. I’m here and with you.” I pause for a moment with a silly smile on my face. “Don’t forget, you are the steamy, tortured hero of my dreams.”
Gabriel stops short, taking my shoulders in his hands and turning me to face him. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” His demeanor has changed, his eyebrows knit into a V. “I want more time with you, and if we could do a little less ‘tortured’ I surely would appreciate it. I miss you so much my heart aches when we’re apart.” His stormy eyes burn with the seriousness of his words.
I’m completely taken aback by his tone. To calm him I glide my fingers gently across the stubble on his cheek. “Gabriel, we’ve talked about this before. You understand this is how it has to be.” I flash him a sly grin, tugging at his hand as I walk away.
Gabriel doesn’t crack a smile, leaving only a dejected look upon his face. Remorse fills me, and I turn to face him while still walking backwards. “Forgive me?”
His expression softens and his eyes drift to the ground. “Of course I forgive you. You know I would do anything for you, and I could never stay mad at you.” Gabriel puts his hands on my arms, turning me away from him. He whispers in my ear forebodingly, “I hope you will forgive me.”
Fear seizes my body, my tone heightening with alarm. “That’s my house, why are we at my house?”
“Close, but this isn’t your house, my love.” He pulls me up the driveway to the garage door. The air is heavy with the smell of blood. I nod apprehensively, afraid of what I will see, as always. I try to brace myself for the scene inside, knowing how this gruesome Specter works.
Gabriel opens the door to the detached garage and motions me towards the ghastly scene that waits. When I come to these places it always takes a while for my vision to adjust to the dream state that I’m in. Each deep breath brings the room more into focus. There are tools above the workbench, gardening stuff, and a mower in the back corner.
Movement below captures my attention, dark liquid in a slow-motion tide being drawn to me. I take a quick step back. My vision gains a surreal focus on the walls and the symbols clearly drawn in blood. They are familiar to me—I don’t know what they mean, but I have seen them before. A body materializes on the floor, a dark figure hovering over it, working gleefully. Squeezing Gabriel’s hand, I whisper, “Are you sure he can’t see us?”
“This is just an echo, a memory. I still don’t think you should get too close.” Gabriel’s haunting gray eyes plead with me to take heed.
I smile and nod, moving in closer. “I won’t, but I need to get a better look.”
The dark figure has cut open h
is victim’s abdomen and is removing the organs with surgical precision. He lays them out meticulously on a sheet of soft, worn leather stained by the blood of previous victims. I have to close my eyes for a moment as a wave of nausea threatens.
“Take deep breaths. Don’t get too close,” Gabriel warns, as though he can see that I’m struggling with compulsion.
“I’m okay.” I’m whispering, not wanting to look on as the skilled butcher collects his prizes. The cutting and pulling noises from the carcass on the floor are worse in the darkness. It turns around to look behind it. I swear it’s looking at me. There’s a twisted smile on its face. It begins to walk towards me. I look to Gabriel. I’m frozen in place by fear. The Specter walks through me as though I’m not there, leaving an empty chill in the hollow of my bones. I breathe a sigh of relief. It stops in its tracks, pausing and cocking its head to the side. After a moment it continues and kneels down. I can’t see what it’s doing. I move towards it. Another body materializes, this one hanging from the rafters of the garage.
“Get out of there—you’re way too close, we have to go.” Gabriel’s voice is full of anxiety. He beckons me to him, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed, sinking in a tar pit of fear.
The dark figure turns around, and as it sneers its face takes on a hazy focus. This is the first time I’m able to see the thing’s full face at all. I think it is getting stronger every time. The first time, there was barely a shadow; now it seems to have form. I realize that over the last year I’ve watched the evolution of the Specter’s strength.
It takes slow, fluid steps towards me. I look down and realize I’m standing in a pool of blood. I try to memorize the exact location of everything around me, for my work later.
Gabriel hisses, “Come on.”
I try to run, my legs unwilling. “I can’t move!”
A voice invades my mind. “I know you watch me, and I’ve been watching you, my love.” The now-opaque figure is close enough to reach for me and envelope me in its darkness. It floods my mind with horrific screams and images of dismembered bodies, including my own.
My screams join the others in my mind. “Gabriel! It knows I’m here, it’s in my head!”
Gabriel runs towards me, slipping in the blood. “Get out of here!”
The figure darkens once more and slashes at him with a blade, carving a deep slice in Gabriel’s forearm.
A crimson stain grows across his sleeve. Gabriel tries to grab the knife. “Run!”
My feet belong to me again and I can move. “I won’t leave you!”
The Specter spins on me, but Gabriel jumps between us, pushing me back. “Get out of here!” he says, wrestling with the darkness until he’s knocked across the room, landing hard on the lawn mower. Now sure that Gabriel’s body lies still, the Specter turns to me.
A hundred screams flood the room from deep within me. “Gabriel! No!”
The demonic laugh ringing in my mind drowns them out. “You, my love, are mine.”
I bolt out the door.
***
“Shay, wake up.” My shoulder is being rocked. “Shay?”
Still gripped with fear and disorientation, I realize I’m not alone. There’s someone in the bed with me. “Aiden?” I turn quickly to look at him, my tone a little disappointed.
“Are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?” Aiden pulls me in close.
“Yeah, nightmare,” I say dismissively, moving away from his warm body.
“You’re safe, I’m here.” He whispers, gently tightening his grip around me.
I settle into his bare chest, surrendering to his embrace. I know I’m safe; I just can’t shake what I saw in my dream. I’m horrified and ashamed that those thoughts live inside me.
Aiden takes a hesitant breath. “Who’s Gabriel?”
“What?” Did I actually say his name?
“Gabriel—you were screaming out ‘Gabriel,’” he says, awaiting an answer.
“Nobody.” I dismiss him, wanting to stop this conversation. I pull his arms tighter around me to quiet him.
Aiden sighs, too tired to press for more information. He quickly goes back to sleep. After ten minutes of Aiden snoring softly I know it’s safe to get up. I unfurl his arms from around me, sliding out of the bed.
At the door I slip on my combat boots and hoodie, then walk quickly to my studio. I don’t want to forget anything from the horrific scene. These nightmares have been terrible, but they are the root of my success, and I’m not letting them go.
Stepping into the garage that Aiden helped me convert into my art studio, I kick off my boots. The lights come up, revealing the storyboard layouts for volume one, issue six of Sanguine Specter lining my walls.
Issue one comes out this week, and issues two through five are in various stages of production. It’s always prudent to stay a few issues ahead of the game, since a series should be released monthly. The Specter has been very generous! I’m six months ahead of the game.
Walking around the room, I inspect my creations closely while running my pendant back and forth along its chain.
After regaining my bearings in the issue, I step over to my drawing table. I straighten my Bristol board, then draw ink into one of the antique art pens Aiden brought me as a peace offering from one of his many disappearing acts to the four corners of the world.
“So, Investigator Gabriel Stokes, where were we?” I say out loud, as if he can really hear me.
Maybe I am losing it. Seems as though the only quasi-normal relationship I’m having is with a fictional character I created. I tenderly draw his strikingly handsome features, working to bring the scene from my dream to life in black, white, and red ink.
Chapter Three
The Scene of the Crime
Detective Glass
The early morning light is disrupted by the spinning lights of police cars. Both plainclothes and uniformed officers mill around in the driveway of Gary and Alice Messner. A man dressed in hip-waders leans over the bed of his pickup truck, holding his head in his hands. Walking up the driveway, I look for the first cop who will make eye contact. “What have we got?”
“Mr. Barnes over there had an early morning fishing trip with Mr. Messner, one of the victims. When he rang the bell and no one answered he walked around to the back of the house; that’s when he saw the bloody footprints.” He points to the footsteps leading down the driveway, which has already been taped off.
Damn rookie, I’m going to have to drag it out of him. “And then?”
“Sorry sir.” He tries to shake off the horror. “He went into the garage and found them. That’s when he made the call to 9-1-1.” The officer leads me toward the garage. “I want to warn you, sir, I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s…”
Impatience is getting the better of me. It’s too early for this shit. “Thank you, Officer; I’ve got it from here. Hey, any word on CSU and the DA?”
“Yes sir, CSU is on the way and the DA’s office sent a police cruiser over to Walker’s house,” the officer answers.
Shit, they had to pick him up. He’s probably on another bender. I peer into the open side door to the garage. My eyes widen when I catch sight of the old woman dangling from her ankles. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is this?” You don’t expect this shit in a town that doesn’t even have a Wal-Mart.
The police car transporting ADA Walker pulls up at the curb. He quickly jumps out. “Glass!” He yells in a frenzy.
“Morning, Walker.” I’m perplexed by his panicked demeanor until he’s within a few feet of me. Yup, he’s been drinking. “Wow, they couldn’t find someone sober to come down here?” He’s an amazing ADA, really goes for the throat. But he isn’t any good to me unless he’s sober.
Walker pushes past me toward the garage. “I know these people.”
Stopping him before he goes in, I grab him by the elbow. “Eli, you can’t go in there.” This kid’s got some power to him; he’s tough to hold back. “We can’t go in until CSU gets here.�
� I check the name in my notebook. “You knew the Messners?”
“Yeah, I’ve had dinner with these people. My girl lives down the street.” Eli cranes his neck, attempting to see in the garage. “When I heard the location I was really afraid it was her.”
To comfort him I put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think she’s in there; they’ve only found two bodies.” I’ve got to get him out of here, he’s going to contaminate the crime scene. “Hey, why don’t you sit this one out—we can get another DA out here.”
“No man, I’m all right. I’m going to call her real quick to be sure she’s okay.” Eli pulls his phone from his pocket and dials the number. “Shit, straight to voicemail.”
“Eli, go check on her, these two aren’t going anywhere.” I point to the garage. Dead people don’t exactly get up and walk away. I haven’t lost one yet.
“No, I can’t go over there right now.” Eli walks down the driveway. “Hey, Simmons, do me a favor.”
“What do you need, Mr. Walker?” the cop asks.
“I want you to take your partner, go up the street about a mile to the next house and check on the neighbor, make sure she’s okay.” Eli sounds desperate. His tone tells me he really wants to go himself, but he knows it’s best that he doesn’t.
“No problem.” He slides Eli a knowing smile. “What’s her name?”
“Shay,” Eli answers, walking back toward the detective.
“Shay Baynes?” Simmons asks.
“Yeah, you know her?” Eli stops mid-step.
“I’ve met her; she’s on-again, off-again with one of my buddies. I’ll check it out.” Simmons and his partner drive away.
Chapter Four
The Other Scene of the Crime
Aiden
INK: Fine Lines (Book 1) Page 2
