by White, L. C
I clamber across the mattress of the mighty four poster bed. It’s no queen size. It’s more an entire royal family size.
My body shoots up from the bed, and I frantically run my fingers over my face to check for cuts or blood. But I feel nothing. I begin to remember the crash. What if I’m in a coma, and now I’m stuck in Camelot or something?
My eyes scan the daunting room as I steady my breathing. This is my dream, and I have total control, I tell myself. This could be one of those epic dreams you remember all your life. Maybe I’m royalty here. Or I could be trapped in this place with the cloaked monster.
“Okay Beth,” I utter quietly. “It’s all in your head.”
A clap of thunder makes me jump, as lightning bursts through the room. With my hand pressed against my chest, I quickly move to the great stone arched window. I angle my head so the tip of my nose touches the lead decorated cold glass. All I see are rolling thunder clouds, casting flashes of white, blue, and orange across the sky. Cloud or fog, whatever the hell it is, floats like dry ice, feet beneath the window outside. I can’t see the ground through it. It’s a castle in the sky. This is completely messed-up. I feel like I’m on some psychedelic trip. I need to wake myself up from this coma.
I turn on the spot to see my black flats at the side of the bed. At this point I’m not really fashion conscious. I need to protect my feet if I need to run.
I slide my bare feet into my shoes, and make my way to the thick oak door. I need to be quiet and find the secret escape in my head. There must be one. Perhaps I can create one. I close my eyes and pray that when I open this door, I will wake and see my mom fussing over me. I count to three then pull open the handle.
I open one eyelid, then the other. Okay, I’m still stuck here. I guess I’m going to have to find another door.
Slowly, I stick my head outside to see a long dark corridor to each side of me. I step out onto the hard stone, wondering which route will take me back to reality. I indecisively choose to start walking left. It’s a little brighter this way. Plus there are some amazing oil paintings hung to each side of me, that kind of distract the fact I’m half-dead.
I continue to move by gothic arched windows, stone, and paintings, as another clap of thunder has me stop dead in my tracks. My chest shudders in and out as I peer outside. The sky is so strange. An epic looking sky, like a fantasy landscape. Why the hell my mind conjured up this place, is beyond me. The building I’m in and the scene outside, fits well in a Tolkien novel, but I’m a modern kind of girl. I like my cell phone, my iPad, and gadgets. I’ve never been one for LARPing. I’ve never really been obsessed with a book or movie to even think about having a hobby as such. I’m crazy enough according to my mom and Dr. Bennett. If I start dressing up in robes, waving a sword around, I’d definitely be locked up in the loony bin.
I stop walking as my eyes fall onto a painting by the window. Well I say painting, when it’s more a mural the size of a wall, ornately framed in carved gold. A portrait of an angel. He has no wings and no halo, but is surrounded by this heavenly cloud, looking up to a hand in the sky. He has this look I can’t get my head around. A familiar look. I squint as I step closer and rise up on my toes. Strange as it sounds, it’s his jaw that fascinates me. It’s a set jaw of a strong man. A jaw I’ve seen before.
An echo travels through the stone and grabs my concentration; a snap and hiss, around seven windows down. I hunch my shoulders forward and frown, hearing the same noise again. This is my dream, so who’s in it with me? It’s not the eerie whistle of sleep paralysis, it’s a human noise. It could be Kim. We could both be stuck in limbo or something.
I slowly make my way toward the door the sound is coming from. I stop in a state of uncertainty, hovering my hand a millimeter from the wood. What if it’s not Kim?
“Do it Beth,” I growl at myself.
I wrap my hand around the wrote iron handle, and push it down apprehensively. I manage to get it all the way down, disguised with each cracking noise on the other side. Now all I have to do is push. One, two, three.
I open the heavy door only an inch. With one narrow eye, I peer inside. I see a crucifix, and beneath it, the muscular shredded bloody back of a man kneeling on the floor. I gasp and step back as his hand flings a whip over his shoulder, to slap down and slice into his back muscles. Covering my mouth, I stagger back as the boom of footsteps louden. Oh god.
My foot slides out of my patent pump as I begin to race down the hallway. Whoever, or whatever was hurting themselves, is now chasing me. I can feel the vibrating thumps of feet hitting the stone flags beneath my one bare foot. Panting for air, I make it to the very end, and come out into a vast space. There’s another colossal lit fire, and a huge sofa before it. But as I race to the only door I can see, my vision picks up an object that doesn’t belong here. A huge flat screen television with speakers, set up in the corner.
I hold my breath as I grip the door handle, but a hand comes over my shoulder and slams hard against the paneled wood.
“Beth, there’s nowhere to run.”
What the hell is Tristen Blake doing in my dream again? I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands, willing my body to wake up as I turn to scowl at him. This is crazy.
He backs away from me as my eyes study his naked torso, his tattoos, and the blood smudges on his skin from whipping himself. I start to laugh out wildly. My mind must be really sick to make this scene up. I was mad at him for flirting with me. I guess in dreamland I’m making him whip himself as punishment. That is seriously messed up on my part.
“Hey dream Tristen, do you have any ice-cream in this place? I’m hungry,” I joke.
I walk around the room, seeing more modern tech. There’s a laptop on a table before the massive couch, and a messy pile of motorbike magazines. I see a cell phone plugged in at the wall. And there are empty beer bottles lined up on the fireplace.
“No, I don’t have ice-cream. I have beer,” dream Tristen says.
I bite my lip and shrug my shoulders. “Sure, why not.”
He bends behind the couch and opens up an ice box. He pulls out two beers, flicks off the caps, and holds one out to me. I take hold of the cold wet bottle. This dream is kind of cool. I can drink beer here. I can do whatever I want.
I take a swig, appreciating how real it tastes, as Tristen strolls around the couch and perches on the arm. His dream body is truly magnificent. I’m thinking back to gym class, comparing reality and fantasy. I think I’ve created a perfect version of him. I don’t like the awful cuts and scars on his back though. I move behind the couch to his back, so I can take a closer look.
I arch over to study his damaged skin. I can smell the blood, along with his sweet cologne, and the shampoo he uses. How would I know these very intimate things he uses? I’ve never smelt such a cologne before.
I watch his rib cage swell in and out. My eyes move up to the back of his neck. He won’t turn to look at me. It’s like he’s afraid of me. I swallow and place the beer bottle on a small table next to the sofa. I’m so confused right now. I reach out and touch his shoulder blade. He flinches away from me as I bring my fingers up to look at the blood on my hand.
“You really shouldn’t touch me,” he says, lowering his head.
“Why not, you’re just a figment of my imagination.”
He swigs down a huge glug of beer, then smirks as he turns to look at me.
“You think this is all in your head?” he asks, waving his finger around.
“Of course it is. This place was probably created because I read beauty and the beast as a child.”
His chuckle turns into a full on belly laugh. “Yeah right.”
“Look, this isn’t the only dream I’ve had, where you were in it.”
“I know, I was there.”
“Ha… see the real Tristen denied all knowledge of that.” I sweep my beer up from the table. “I am actually having an argument with myself here.”
I take a mouthful of beer as dream
Tristen walks up to me, with a sexy as hell look in his determined eyes. My legs quiver a little as I guzzle down the beer still in my mouth. His hand comes up to cup my neck.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he says as I close my eyes. “It goes against everything I’ve been ordered to do. But I can assure you Beth.” He squeezes my neck gently. “That I am very fuckin real.”
My eyes open in a flash, realizing he’s telling me the truth. I can’t possibly make his touch do this to my body by myself.
The bottle falls out of my hand, smashing on the stone flags as I stumble back away from him. I look down at the nightgown I’m wearing, my fingers clutching the fabric. He’s undressed me.
“You’ve seen me naked?” I screech, feeling the fire whizz up my cheeks.
“We were all born butt naked. Skin is skin.”
“Oh well that makes it okay then!”
“It’s what’s inside the skin that counts.” He huffs, nodding his head.
In a panic, I feel my face again with my fumbling fingers. I was in a very serious car accident. I broke my ankle, and now I’m clean and fully healed. What the hell is this place? More importantly, what the hell is he?
“The brakes in Kim’s car were cut by a Shade,” he says. “You would have died. I had to strip you off to clean you up.”
“What… what are you?”
“You really need to calm down, Beth. You’re showing how weak you are. You’re not going to get through this acting like a frightened Mary Sue.” He sits back down on the arm of the couch, unbothered. “I told you to be careful.”
“What are you?” I yell again in anger.
“I’m a Sentinel,” he says, like I’m supposed to have full knowledge of what that is. “I told you the Shade was near you, and not to trust a soul.”
“What the fuck is the Shade? And where the hell is Kim. Did you kill her?”
“You’re ranting.”
I pace behind the couch and nearly stand on the broken beer bottle. In a fluster I clumsily move away from the glass shards scattered. This is madness. I’m actually going insane for real.
“I need to go.” I hurry to the door and yank on the handle, but the damn thing is locked. “Let me out of here right now.”
“The doors don’t open, so it’s pointless trying,” he says, casually.
Gasping for air I pace with irrational steps. “You need to let me go.”
“I will… soon.”
“Where is Kim?”
“She is safe. Got home after dropping you off, and now she is safely tucked up in bed,” he replies.
“How… that car was totaled.”
“I told you, I’m a Sentinel. I have certain powers downstairs. I wasn’t supposed to use them, but you know what.” He raises his beer above his head. “Screw that.” He drinks a mouthful.
“What is this place?” I’m still pacing, I can’t stop.
“My personal Sentinel quarters. Time moves for no one here.” He places his empty bottle on the small table as he stands up. “I’ll reduce this down, so you get the picture. All your life you have been followed by a darkness, and now the Shades know where you are. They can feel you’re enlightenment getting closer. I was sent to make sure all goes smoothly.”
“Enlightenment?”
He stomps right up to me and takes my arm in a firm grip. I try to snag away from him, but he’s really strong. He tugs me over to a large painting on the wall. In it is the same angel I saw hung up in the long creepy corridor.
“I am the Order of Michael. That there, is Michael. And he is your father.”
I puff out my lips as I expel a harsh laugh. I thought I had mental health issues. Tristen is beyond crazy. He thrusts down my hand, pissed that I’m not falling for his whacky make-believe.
“Bennett was right, you’re not ready for this,” he grumbles. “You’ll end up dead before you have the chance to enlighten.”
“I want to go home!”
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“So you expect me to believe my father is a fuckin angel, and my shrink is one also?”
“An archangel, Beth.” He blows out. “Why do you think you are attacked each night? The Shade is trying to break you. They will use your friends, and your family to get close.”
“So this Shade, is what exactly?” I ask with a hint of sarcasm.
“The Shade is demonic… demons.”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s true, and deep down you know it.”
“So you’re an angel?”
“Of sorts. I was chosen at birth.” He sniggers to himself. “You’re my birthright, according to them assholes up there. My duty is to protect you.”
I lower my head. This is completely indigestible. I can understand there are things that cannot be explained on earth. But my sweet Dad being a damn archangel is not one of them.
As I lift my head, about to tell him again I want to go home, he’s right in front of me, his coppery stern eyes staring down. I want to tell him to put on a shirt. I can’t have a serious argument, only inches from his impeccable toned chest.
“I am sorry, Beth. No one deserves to have a burden dropped on them like this, and I have broken every code telling you.”
“You need help, Tristen.”
“I promise you, I will be there whenever I can.” Again he runs his hand up my neck, his fingertips delicately stroking my hair. “Just do this one thing I ask. Don’t trust a soul. If you want, I can get you away for a while.”
“Why are you doing this?”
My eyes fill up with uncertain tears. I’m uncertain asking that question was the right thing to do. Now he’s gazing at me with a heavy longing, and my heart beat thunders like I’ve just stepped off a cliff. I should be freaking out, but find my hazy eyes locked onto his.
“I’ve studied you my whole life. I’ve prepared my body and soul to fight to the death for you. I serve you. But seeing you in the flesh has wiped out years of scripture, and the need for destiny to be followed. You should make your own choices. We fight for free will, but the ones who put their existence on the line to fight for it, don’t have a fuckin choice. We will never have free will or peace, because they always want control.”
“Then leave,” I say, pursing my lips to the side.
He smiles. It’s a smile that tells me to shut up because I don’t know what I’m talking about.
“You really are free. Stay free,” he says, sincerely.
He leans down and his moist lips coat mine with a tender kiss. Holy crap. A kiss like the damn planets have collided. I get lost in his touch. It’s not the kiss of a rebel bad boy. He really kisses like an angel.
He draws back, his hand still cradling my neck, and I’m speechless.
“And I should have definitely not done that.”
He turns his back on me, then is suddenly struck down to his knees, hissing in pain. I hurry to him and crouch down.
“Tristen, what’s wrong!”
“Your watcher is here,” he growls out, grabbing my hand. “He’ll wipe your memory. If you ever feel something isn’t right, count backward in your mind. Promise,” he pleads desperately, clutching at my wrist.
“Yes… yes!”
The door suddenly flies open. I can’t believe who has just entered. As if this screwed-up situation couldn’t get any more perplexing. My shrink, Dr. Bennett, has just walked through the door.
“YOU!” I scream at him.
“I told you to let nature take its course. Now, once again I have to clean up your mess. Michael is not impressed by the way,” he yells at Tristen.
“The archangel; my dad?” I shout at him.
He rolls his eyes and walks toward me with his fingers out. An icy whiteness consumes me, and I begin to fall through a thick fog.
***
An explosion of light beneath my eyelids propels my body upright in shock. My wide eyes scan each dark corner of my bedroom. I’m awake and have full control over
my body. What I’ve just experienced was the strangest thing ever. It wasn’t a nightmare, or sleep paralysis. It was like when you trip and wake up with a start, but a thousand times worse. I can’t recall the weird dream at all, so put the event down to the stress of shopping with Kim. She was a nightmare right until she dropped me off outside my door. I had to block out her constant chirpy jabber. There was one point I was going to ask her if she’d taken something. Kim has always been able to speed talk crap, but tonight, after she saw Luke, she was on another planet. She drained the hell out of me.
I slide my cell phone off my bedside table and check the time. I’ve only been in bed an hour. Great. I slam my head back onto my pillow, dreading the sleepless night ahead.
Chapter Eight: Awkward Invite
Beth
I’ve been gazing at my reflection, sitting before my dressing table for some time now. I’m lost in it, my mind floating freely. No thoughts trouble me. I’m suspended in nothingness, brushing my freshly washed hair. Something is changing in me. Something good. I have slept like a baby all week. If this is what normal is, then it feels great.
I place my brush back into the open top drawer and stand, zipping up my lime green hoody as I make my way out onto the landing. I reach the top step, when I hear Mom yelling at Jake to hurry up. I’ve never heard her so stressed, and instinct tells me something is wrong.
“Beth, sweetie.”
She flusters out of her room with bed hair, dragging a small suitcase behind her. She fights with the extendable handle, trying to yank it up. Failing, in a rage, she pushes the suitcase over.
