The Dream Awakened

by Leann M Rettell

  “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be arriving in Rome, Italy soon. Thank you for flying with us today.” The captain’s voice bellowed through the intercom system.

  Debbie stirred, yawning and wiping her chin. “Oh, thank god. I feel like I’ve been on this plane forever.”

  He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “Are you ready?”

  Her pupils dilated while her nostrils flared for a second, the only sign of her anxiety. “I am.” She straightened her teal skirt speckled with purple and blue flowers and retied the top of her peasant-styled blue blouse. The swell of one breast flashed and he wished to kiss it, kiss her. He’d have to get control of this new part of him or else he’d get himself and Debbie in big trouble. She straightened in her chair, ran a brush through her long brown hair, and replaced the scarf she’d managed to tie into a hairpiece. Several silver and gold bracelets jingled on her wrists with each stroke of the brush.

  “What?” Debbie raised an eyebrow while she rubbed cherry lip gloss on her mouth.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She rolled her eyes, shoved the lip gloss back into the vibrant nap sack she used in place of a modern purse. “Well, you look like hell.” She flashed a playful grin and handed him her brush. Malcolm took the brush and ran it through his hair, noticing a small amount of hair, his hair, embedded into the bristles. He stared at it, shocked.

  “What?” Debbie leaned close, inspecting the brush, then ran her fingers through his hair. He said nothing as the engine roared and the plane descended.

  Thirty minutes later, they sat in the back of a taxi and pulled out of Fiumicino. “Okay, that’s it. Since the plane you’ve looked like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s the problem?”

  Malcolm flicked his gaze to the older cab driver. Debbie tapped a finger across the armrest, the sound aggravated and accusing. “My hair came out,” Malcolm admitted, not wanting to get into it.

  “Are you worrying about going bald? I’ve never known you to be vain.”

  “It’s not vanity. It’s…I’ll tell you later.”

  The cab parked in front of Hotel Artemide. The doorman met them and opened their door. “Good evening. May I take your bags?”

  “Thank you,” Malcolm said, finding the Italian flowing without any effort. Something eased in his chest. At least that was one thing he hadn’t lost. Seconds after sliding the doorman a tip and shutting the door to their exquisite room, Debbie resumed their conversation.

  “Spill it.”

  “I’ve never lost hair before.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You cut your hair before, shaved the beard.”

  He slung his bag on the king-sized bed. The thick white comforter smooshed as the weight bore down on it. “Yes. I cut it, and it would regrow, but only if I wished it. It never just fell out.”

  “You wished your hair to grow?”

  The new discontent rolled through him. “Yes. I never really thought about it. I would trim it, but if I wanted it longer, it would grow to that length in a few weeks or so. Sorry, I’m not used to having my body beyond my control.” His hand patted to the small bulge developing at his abdomen.

  Her face softened, and she crossed the space to wrap her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace as she tilted her head up to meet his. “As an immortal, your body never changed.”

  “When we regenerate, we can choose how to appear.”

  Debbie cocked her head to the side.

  “We could choose to look male or female.”

  Her eyes widened, and a wicked smile touched her mouth. “You could’ve come back as a woman?”

  As he imagined that wicked mouth on him, the unease raced away. “Why? Would you have wanted me as a female?”

  She pressed into the growing length of him. “Typical male with lesbian fantasies.”

  He leaned down and bit her lip before claiming her mouth. The kiss deepened. He pulled that flaring skirt around her waist and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist. God, what she did to him. He'd take her right here against the wall. He took three steps, leaning her against the wall, pressing himself against her. His arms began to shake. Doubting if his human strength would allow him to do as he wished with her, he bit down at the nape of her neck, prepared to move to the floor if need be. His phone chimed, breaking the moment. Panting, Debbie wiggled until he sat her down, letting the skirt fall to swing around her knees. “You better get that.”

  He let the phone ring as he stared at her, savoring the burning longing inside him as it faded. He ripped the phone out of his pocket. Cos read across the screen.

  “Obadiah?”

  Obadiah sighed through the phone. “Gabriel, are you here?”

  Perhaps he should deny it to spend a few hours buried inside Debbie. He spun and walked into the intricately tiled bathroom with crystalline lights shining like tiny diamonds. “I’m here.”

  “I need you here immediately. There’s been another one.”

  Another murder. Another life lost. The passion in him vanished as he stared into his chocolate brown eyes and watched as an eyelash floated down to land on the white marble sink as if his own life remained tied to the dream thieves and their targets.

  “I’m on my way, and I’m bringing someone with me.”

  Debbie stood beside him as he clicked off the line. He reached down and showed the fallen eyelash to her, and she shrugged. “It’s going to keep happening. What’re you going to do when you get gray hair?”

  He gave an involuntary shudder, further deepening Debbie’s scowl. “This is a part of being human. We’re constantly changing. From moment to moment, cells die, hair falls out. Time is like a wheel. We are born and raised higher and higher until we reach a peak and then begin to recede before being cast back down. You’ve been riding on the stoke of the wheel. You may have avoided the darkness, but you also never fully made it into the light.”

  Malcolm said nothing, couldn’t form words or thoughts, and instead guided her into his arms. He wouldn’t voice the terror rising in him. This was too good to be true. She was too good to be true. What if he’d been given this, but now his body raged toward that darkness? What if he aged at double speed? He kissed the top of her head, deciding then and there he’d put all the fear away. Like his whole existence, he hadn’t had control over anything. If his fate led him to fade fast, he’d be damned if he spent it caught up in worry.

  “I’m getting used to it. The question is, will you like me if I have gray hair?”

  She giggled against his neck and pulled back. “Depends. Will you like me when I have saggy boobs?”

  His eyes cast down at her very full, firm, luscious breasts. “Oh, yes.” He held her back and dipped his head, kissing the top of each one before moving on to nip at her neck. She shuddered against him, and he fought down the ever-rising lust. He stepped away, readjusting himself. “Later. Right now, you and I have a date at Cos.”

  Her eyes sparkled at the edge of teasing and passion. She winked and with a shrug turned back to the bedroom. “Pity.”

  He’d have sworn she swished her hips like that on purpose to drive him mad. “Woman, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.”

  She grabbed the vibrant bold nap sack and batted her eyelashes. “Really? Shall I get the handcuffs?”

  He tilted his head back and roared with laughter. No matter what the future held, he’d always be grateful they’d managed to go from friends and coworkers, to her attempting to lock him up in a modern-day insane asylum, to the sexual promises of S&M.

  5

  Malcolm, hand in hand with Debbie, stepped through one of the double glass doors of the white stucco building near the Fontana del Tritone. Living forever certainly had its advantages, such as being able to secretly build undocumented structures underneath various buildings. It made hiding the dream thieves’ base of operations much easier, as well as other things. Malcolm had no idea what would happen if anything happened to this place. With all the
construction rules, regulations, codes, and Joe Government dipping their hands into every pot, they’d never get away with another underground facility, except perhaps in a third-world country, but these were thoughts for the Librarian.

  Despite the change in dream thief leadership from Aelia to Obadiah, the same balding, sweating behemoth of a security guard manned the security desk. His name was Teobaldo, Malcolm recalled from his previous visit. Again, like before, Baldo didn’t look up from his tablet, nor appear to have the slightest inkling anyone had entered the building. How a man could sweat and be huffing as if out of breath just by sitting at a desk Malcolm couldn’t say. Malcolm rubbed at the new soft bulge he’d developed and swore to start working out. Malcolm cleared his throat.

  Baldo jumped, eyes bulging, and clutched at his chest. Malcolm guessed the man was one more Vienna sausage away from a massive coronary, but Malcolm hoped, for Obadiah’s sake, that Baldo would not require Emergency Medical Services, EMS, or whatever passed for it in Rome. Obadiah had enough going on without that headache. “Excuse me, we’re here to see Obadiah…” Malcolm froze, realizing for the first time he didn’t know Obadiah’s current surname. He’d always kept his true name but varied the surnames.

  “Gabriel,” Obadiah emerged from a side door, saving Malcolm from further incrimination.

  Malcolm waved a hand in mock greeting. “Oh, little brother, you know I go by my middle name now.”

  Obadiah laughed. “How could I forget, Malcolm? But you’ll always be Gabriel to me.”

  Debbie clenched his fingers on his other hand, and he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

  Baldo deflated, wiping a never-ending cascade of sweat from his forehead, and heaved himself to his feet. “Mr. Giacchino.” Baldo tipped his head.

  “Relax, Antonio.”

  Malcolm did a double take. The man’s full name was Antonio Teobaldo. He suppressed a smile and cast his attention to his brother.

  Obadiah strolled toward them, white button-down shirt trailing behind him. The loose-fitting khakis pants swished with each movement. White canvas tennis shoes completed the ensemble. He made a striking contrast to Aelia’s typical pencil skirt business suits and badass businesswoman facade. Save for their blondish hair, the two couldn’t have been more different. Obadiah kept his hair slightly longer, more light brown than blond, always appearing windblown, and a serene smile playing around his lips at all times. When Malcolm had seen him worried, happiness and peace still danced in his eyes. Now with Aelia and Caelieus missing and targets being murdered, he still looked as cool as a cucumber. Malcolm couldn’t quite decide if this made his brother endearing or maddening.

  Obadiah threw his arms around Malcolm, bringing him in for a tight embrace. Malcolm’s spine felt close to buckling like a twig, but Obadiah didn’t seem to notice. He stepped back, and Malcolm’s rib cage shouted in protest at the abuse. “And you must be the fair Debbie.” Debbie blushed, placing one hand over Obadiah’s. His brother encircled her hand and placed a quick peck on the knuckles. “You’re truly stunning.” He leaned in, sniffing the air around Debbie. “Mmmm, divine.”

  Debbie slid her hand away, trying her best to hide her reaction. “What’s divine?”

  Obadiah waved a hand toward Debbie as if fanning her scent to him again. “Your aura, dear. A mixture of wildflower and forging steel.” Obadiah eyed her up and down, taking in her self-proclaimed gypsy-fairy style of clothing to the dangling bracelets on her wrists. “You must be something to smell like that.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Debbie’s voice rang a few octaves higher than her usual. Malcolm covered his own mouth to suppress a grin.

  “No need, my dear. Your scent is quite alluring. Antonio’s is a mixture of pine and smoked meats, the air of an American campout.”

  Malcolm thought the smells were more reminiscent of the man’s lunch that would put him in an early pine coffin, but perhaps he’d grown judgmental since his change. Baldo may have blushed, but with the ruddiness of his cheeks, it was hard to tell.

  Obadiah straightened, patting Malcolm on the shoulder and almost sending him flying. Malcolm grabbed onto Debbie’s shoulder to catch himself. Obadiah had spun, twisting in the direction of the elevator. He called over his shoulder. “Come. Come.” A hand waved them onward. “There’s much to discuss.”

  Malcolm nodded toward a stunned, puddling Baldo and followed after his eccentric brother. Of all the things changing over the last few weeks, the blatant discovery of how weak he’d become compared to Obadiah was one of the most startling. He shook off the feeling, pushing it way down deep, reminding himself of his earlier proclamation not to worry. Besides, he’d take an orgasm over super strength any day. On that thought, he reached down and pinched Debbie’s ample behind as the two stepped into the elevator.

  Obadiah leaned in after the doors closed, typing in his personalized passcode. With nimble fingers, he pressed the code and the little box scooted backward, slid to the side, and revealed a fingerprint scanner.

  Obadiah nodded, pressed his thumb into the scanner, and the little machine beeped and turned a vibrant green color. Odd thoughts, as often happened with Malcolm, popped into his head. Like, who had universally decided that green meant good, accepted, or go and red meant bad, rejected, or stop?

  The secret security measures clicked back into place, and if Malcolm hadn’t just seen them with his own eyes, he’d never have believed they’d been there. The elevator began its descent down. Malcolm had never bothered to learn the exact depth underground, but the ride always gave him the jitters. Still, it beat the very long, long stairs from centuries past. The doors opened, no doubt showing Baldo that they’d gone to the penthouse instead. Obadiah stepped ahead of them, pausing in front of the main entrance. He tapped in yet another code and had his fingerprint scanned again, as well as his retina.

  “Increased security?” Malcolm asked as the door swung open. He half expected a mystery hissing sound to follow like in so many Hollywood movies.

  “I deemed it prudent in light of our current situation. Speaking of, I’ll need to reenter you into the system.” Obadiah led them down the veritable maze of tunnels and passageways, lit not by torchlight from before, but with industrial-grade lights. The stone passageways remained the same.

  “This isn’t what I expected,” Debbie said when they reached the end of the maze and entered the main hub. Six desks were lined up in two columns with three computers on each and one main desk facing the others with two massive computer monitors. A state-of-the-art room-sized database formed a massive backroom and held hundreds upon hundreds of dream thief accounts.

  “Yes, I imagine you’d expect an ancient race of immortals doing hidden work would have much more of a cloak and dagger style, with dusty scrolls and us wandering around, muttering to ourselves, wearing monks’ robes,” Obadiah said.

  Debbie laughed, full and loud, holding nothing back. The laugh of pure joy and trust. In one instant, Obadiah had eased away any reservations she may have held against him. “I suppose I might’ve been thinking something along those lines. Malcolm has described you as pious.”

  Obadiah’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I have spent my fair share of time living amongst various religious sanctums over the centuries. They tend to be less judgmental if you suddenly disappear. In some ages, this one not among them, we didn’t have to hide so furiously. Not that I could convince anyone of them of that. Would you like some tea? Coffee?”

  Debbie followed Obadiah further into the room. “Please. I take it you don’t have any cream?”

  “Sadly no, but I hear it’s delicious.” He handed Debbie a cup of tea.

  “It’s pretty damn good, but it doesn’t beat sex,” Malcolm chimed in.

  Debbie spat a full mouth of tea into Obadiah’s face. Rose dusted her cheeks and traveled down her neck. “Malcolm Jones!”

  Laughing, Obadiah grabbed a towel from the same area that now served as his bedroom. “Not to worry, my lady. Gabriel’s favorite past time in
the fifteenth century was to shock me. I see his sense of humor hasn’t changed.”

  “Sorry.” Debbie tried to wipe away the splattered tea from his now stained shirt.

  Obadiah waved her off, leaning against the table, pouring himself a cup of strong herbal tea that smelled faintly of orange and cinnamon. “Would you like some?”

  Malcolm shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables, and grabbed the mouse, swirling it until the login screen appeared. He’d been drinking nothing but simple syrup, tea, coffee, and alcohol since the beginning of time. He’d be fine if he never tasted the stuff again. Well, except for the alcohol. Drinking had become much more interesting now that his body didn’t burn through it, forcing him to drink it by the gallon-full to just get a buzz.

  “Well, is no one going to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room?” Debbie asked, nursing her tea.

  Malcolm raised an eyebrow, unsure what she could be referring to. She rolled her eyes. “Why do both you resemble hot, ancient Greek gods?”

  Obadiah shared Malcolm a look. “I thought you told her about us?”

  Malcolm put his hands up. “She knows the gist.” The glare Obadiah gave him could’ve reduced him to cinders. “Our first memories are falling, landing at our respective regeneration spots, and the memory of our true names.”

  Debbie’s face paled, and she set her lips in a thin line. “If your true name is Gabriel, why don’t we just call you that?”

  “Technically my true name is Gabriel, except…”

  “Except what?” Obadiah set down his tea, crossing his arms over his chest, the picture of selfless concern.

  “Except I haven’t felt like Gabriel since my last regeneration.”

  “Did you have a new memory? A new name?”

  “I can’t remember. Things are foggy. I never realized how many small details I always remembered, but now I’ve changed those small things are gone like smoke on the wind.”

  “If you have truly changed, then perhaps you are no longer Gabriel.”