Harlequin Dreams

by Tansey Morgan

  I was in the hallway again, and I didn’t want to be.

  The last time I had been here was the night… the night of Lucia’s death, the night I met Brishan Roses, the night I heard, with my own ears, the death jingle of that—that thing, that monster; the jester. I knew I was asleep, knew I was dreaming much in the same way a lucid dreamer knows they’re dreaming.

  But this was different, and it was different because, as much as I knew I was dreaming and that I had some manner of control while I was in here, I also knew there were rules, the clearest one being, simply, that I couldn’t walk backwards. That meant I couldn’t immediately wake myself up from a dream, couldn’t just walk back down the way I had come. The only choice was to go forward, deeper, or stop, and wait. But I didn’t want to do either of those things; I wanted to not be asleep, to not be dreaming, I wanted to wake up and for this to be over.

  Just like other times, the hallway I was standing in looked a lot like the hallway directly outside of my—Eli’s guest bedroom—door. The wallpaper, the floors, the light fixtures, they were all the same, the only difference, at least this time, was, there were no other doors in the hall, not even the one leading to my bedroom and my sleeping body. I glanced over my shoulder, and there was a wall there.

  Taking a breath, I decided to start walking. I was here for a reason, after all, and I thought that reason might present itself to me if I started moving. But the hallway itself didn’t change, it just seemed to stretch on and on. The light scent of cinnamon touched my nose, followed quickly by the heady, musky aroma of piss, human piss. My heart began to pound against my temples, in the tips of my fingers, my feet, but I kept walking along that ever-stretching corridor, wondering when it would end, wondering where it was taking me.

  As I walked, my fingertips clasped around the tough, cold material of my mask. I stopped and stared at the black, white, and red mask which had appeared in my hand out of nowhere. It was covered in the same symbols you’d find on a deck of playing cards; clubs, diamonds, hearts, spades. One side of the mask was slender, large enough only to cover my eye and a little of my cheek and eyebrow, while the other curved around the corner of my mouth and stretched to cover the entire side of my face, from my jaw to my forehead.

  My Harlequin mask, my Talisman, my item of power.

  Damon had told me many Mages owned Talismans like this one when he’d first seen it, but I had learned since that a Harlequin’s Talisman is special because they could take it with them when they dream. I was still getting used to this all, trying to figure out how to do the things I did without relying so much only on instinct, but I hadn’t gotten there yet, so the fact I now had my mask in my hand was part surprise, part miracle, all blessing.

  I slipped the mask onto my face and wrapped the strap around the back of my head, securing it into place. Instantly I felt better, more in control, and the hallway in front of me began to shrink, revealing a single door at the end, bathed in the glow of a light on the wall right next to it. Beside the door, the hallway made a turn, and even before arriving I knew where that turn would take me, if I took it.

  It would take me to the place where the monster, the jester, lived; into its mind, its dreaming mind.

  The mouth of that dark, foreboding hallway was cold, like the inside of a freezer, or a morgue. The choice was simple; make the turn and follow the hall, or step through door number one and see what was on the other side. Without hesitating, I let my hand rest on the door handle, then I turned it, and pushed the door open, spilling through without giving the dark hallway another glance.

  Right away someone took my hand and pulled me into a dim room where the shadows were long, and deep. Music was playing; an eerie, soft, but ominous piano melody. It was a waltz, that beat; a steady one, two, three, one, two, three, and the man—I knew it was a man—that had tugged on my hand and pulled me into the room put one hand around mine, another around my waist, and started dancing with me, dancing to that steady, eerie waltz.

  My eyes climbed from the man’s chest up to his jaw and face. He was wearing a black suit, with a red shirt and black tie. Instantly I knew, the man I was dancing with was Damon, and he was wearing a mask too, one just like mine but also slightly different. I had seen him in a dream before, and he had been wearing the same mask then; elegant, black, and with a peacock’s feather sticking out of the side. From behind the mask his clear, silvery blue eyes regarded me in an almost sleepy way. The corner of his mouth was tipped upwards into an almost smug expression.

  “Damon,” I whispered, but my voice was distant, even to my own ears, “What are you doing here?”

  “Welcome,” he said, leading me in this haunted waltz.

  “Welcome? What are you talking about?”

  Damon pulled my hip towards him, pressing me to his body, then he came in to kiss me, and like magnets attracting, my lips turned up to meet his. His mouth was warm against mine, his breath hot in my mouth. My lips parted, as did his, and our tongues met lightly in the space between us, flicking, teasing, testing.

  Then Damon pulled away, spun me around, and let go of my hand. Before I could question him, someone else stepped into view and took Damon’s place, one hand wrapped over mine, the other around my hip, and we started to dance. Though I could see Damon standing in the room we had entered—a dark room, with large black marble columns demarcating a circular dance floor, blood red curtains draped between them—my attention came fully to bear on the man who had scooped me up.

  Just from his large build, and the warmth of his body, I knew the man who had stepped in for Damon was Logan. He too was wearing a suit, navy blue with a white shirt. His jaw was cleanly shaven, broad, and powerful, much like his shoulders, but he too was wearing a mask, only his had a protruding muzzle in the shape of a wolf’s snout. His green-gold eyes sparkled, and he looked at me in the same way Damon had a second ago.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  “Waiting for me?” I asked.

  But he didn’t answer my question either. Instead, he leaned closer for a kiss of his own. My heart started hammering against my chest, maybe from my proximity to him, maybe from the warmth of his body so close to mine, but more likely from the strength of his lips, the fullness of them. I surrendered to him, allowing my lips to part for his searching tongue. When he found my tongue, he sucked in a deep breath of air through his nose and pushed deeper into the kiss, and I could do little but enjoy it, savor it, until the kiss was over, and now Logan was spinning me around and setting me free.

  Eli didn’t wait. He scooped me up in the middle of my turn, deftly handling me as I spun and slipping into place with all the dexterity and grace I had come to expect from him. He smiled his winning smile, and as my eyes were drawn to his face, I noticed he was wearing a mask, too; his was black, and lined with gold; a compliment to the black suit and black shirt he was wearing.

  “Eli,” I said, “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  But Eli didn’t immediately speak. Instead he led me, as Damon had, around the dance floor, following the one, two, three step of the waltz, that ghost waltz, until it felt like I was walking on clouds. My stomach lightened, my heart stopped hammering, and the more I allowed myself to surrender to these men, these dream versions of Eli, Damon, and Logan, the more comfortable I began to feel, the more at home.

  “You have to save them, Andi,” Eli said.

  My attention snapped to him like a rubber band snapping into place. “Save who, Eli?” I asked.

  And just like Logan and Damon had done before him, Eli reached for my lips with his own, and drank deeply of my kiss. On his breath I could taste the peppermint gum I knew he liked to chew. His breath was cool, and welcoming, and when our tongues met, I could taste the minty freshness of his peppermint gum in my mouth.

  I stared at him when our kiss broke, remembering what it had felt like to kiss him while I had been awake. It was the strangest feeling, to be inside of a dream and remember your waking life. Un
til then, I had never considered my real life while dreaming; it was as if the dream was all there was, as if it was reality, not an escape from it, but both worlds were married together now under the power of this memory, and it made me feel even lighter, almost entirely weightless.

  Eli then twirled me, released me, and I wound up in Damon’s arms again, only this time he was dancing me out of the circular dance floor.

  “Hello, Andi,” he said.

  “Damon… could you tell me what’s going on?” I asked, trying to make some sense of things.

  But he only smiled that smug smile of his, then the music fell away, then the ballroom itself was gone, and we were in my bedroom again, dancing the same waltz, spinning together at the foot of the bed. Damon then spun me around, but he stopped dancing. Instead of continuing to sway with me, he pulled my body toward his, placed his hands on my shoulders, and let his fingertips slide along the sides of my arms, setting my nervous system alight.

  “Damon,” I started to say, but he kissed the side of my neck and made a shushing sound.

  I felt his fingers now clasp around the zipper of the dress—I couldn’t remember wearing a dress, but I was wearing one now—I had on and pull it all the way down. He then peeled the shoulders of the dress aside and tugged on it from the waist until the dress slid all the way down and fell into a little pool of itself around my ankles, leaving me in a bra and matching panties; blue, and lacy.

  Damon then took my hand, spun me around, and led me to the bed. “Get on,” he said.

  My heart was a runaway engine in my chest, I had no idea what was going on, but I did as he commanded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What now?”

  “Scoot up and open your legs.”

  “My…” I was about to ask the question, ask him to explain himself, but I didn’t. Instead, I followed his simple, clear orders, scooching up onto the bed and, without breaking eye contact, spreading my legs for him.

  Damon drank in the sight of me, regarding me from behind the mask he had on his face. I watched his lips pull into a smile, but he did nothing else. Eli suddenly walked up to Damon. He wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore, and he wasn’t looking at me either, he was looking at Damon as he approached.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “I want to see a look of true pleasure in your eyes,” Damon said. He nodded at Eli, and then Eli walked around the bed, set his knee on it, and slid across to where I lay.

  Cupping my cheek with his hand, he turned my head to look at him and pressed his lips against mine. I slid one of my hands across his shoulders, then up to his neck, and into his thick, black hair. Eli’s kiss was strong, and passionate. His lips were full, his tongue was playful in my mouth, his breath fresh and minty. Then I felt him reach for my bra with his other hand and, without breaking a sweat, he unhooked it.

  “Take it off for him,” Damon said, and I did as he asked without question, shrugging out of the bra and tossing it aside.

  When my breasts were free, Eli’s mouth went searching for them, leaving a trail of kisses that ran down my jaw, my neck, and my collarbone each kiss building the anticipation until his lips wrapped themselves around my nipple. I arched my head back and moaned with delight at the sudden rush of excitement and warmth.

  Eli enjoyed one of my breasts with his mouth while cupping and squeezing the other with his hand. When I brought my neck down again, it wasn’t Eli I looked at, but Damon, who hadn’t moved from where he had been standing, hadn’t stripped, hadn’t done a thing besides watch, and something about that got me hotter than I had ever been in my entire life.

  Before I knew it, Eli had shuffled around so his broad shoulders were between my knees. He reached for the lining of my underwear with his fingertips and tugged, and I arched my back, allowing him to take them off but never once taking my eyes off Damon. I didn’t break eye contact with him while I guided Eli’s head closer to my pulsing, wet center, nor did I take my eyes off him when Eli tasted me for the first time, the sensation sending rippling currents of electricity coursing through my veins.

  Eli gripped my thighs with his hands and pulled me closer to him. My breath hitched, then held as, with rapid movements, he brought me to the brink of orgasm with only his tongue, and even then, I didn’t break eye contact with Damon. My body was trembling, quaking, heart racing, hot blood coursing through me. The moment of release was blissful, and perfect. I moaned for Eli as the orgasm moved through me, all the while running my fingers through his hair.

  When I came back down from cloud orgasm, Eli kissed the wet space between my legs and pulled himself away from me. I watched him walk past Damon and sit in the armchair on the other side of the room, wondering what was going to happen next, when Logan arrived as if he had manifested from out of the darkness itself.

  Like Eli, Logan walked up to Damon and stood beside him. Damon, however, had his attention firmly fixed on me.

  “Now,” he said, and I found myself excited at the thought of what he might tell me to do next, waiting on bated breath as he drew the moment out. “I want you to get on all fours and look at me—don’t take your eyes off me.”

  I swallowed, but I didn’t hesitate to do as he had asked, shuffling around so that I was on my hands and knees and staring at him. He then nodded at Logan, and Logan walked around the bed. I wanted to see what he was doing, but Damon had asked me not to, and some part of me didn’t want to get… punished… for not doing as I had been told. Then I felt Logan’s weight cause the bed to dip. His hand came around my waist. I waited, and then I felt it—him—teasing me, getting wet with me until, finally, he was inside me.

  Logan was gentle sliding in, offering me enough time to savor the sensation. My breath went up as he reached the end of his first, gentle thrust. He held onto my hips with both hands now, and my breath went down as he pulled away, then up again as he pushed back in, rising and falling until he found his rhythm, each thrust sending pulses of raw, exultant joy throughout my entire body, so much so that my knees were starting to feel weak.

  I wanted to slip down to my elbows and rest my chest against the bed, but Damon had asked me not to take my eyes off him, and so I didn’t. I watched him as he watched Logan take me from behind, pumping and thrusting, both of us groaning from the euphoria of it all. Then Logan pulled me to him, he folded his knees, and guided me to sit on him with my back pressed against his chest. He wrapped an arm against my waist, and with another he cupped my breast. I turned my head and kissed him, even though I didn’t take my eyes off Damon, then I slid up and down his chest, moaning as I went down, breathing as I came up.

  Like that we rocked for a while. Logan made me feel cared for, and comfortable, just as Eli had. Damon, in his own way, was doing the same. I imagined him as silent protector, watching for signs of trouble, for signs that I was being mistreated, waiting to intervene, to interrupt if he had to. All three of them had made me feel good, and safe.

  One of Logan’s hands slipped down between my legs, searching for my pleasure center with his fingers. My breath hitched one more time when he found it and started rubbing. I felt him tense, stiffen, and unload into me. I sighed with him and smiled at Damon as Logan and I tipped over the edge of an orgasm together.

  I straightened up and decoupled from Logan. Then Damon came around the side of the bed with the blanket and wrapped it around me. Kissing me lightly on the forehead, he said, “You look beautiful when you climax.”

  “Thank you…” I said, my voice little more than a sigh.

  Logan shuffled around underneath me, and Damon gently pushed me against the bed, where I was able to comfortably lie on my back. He tipped my lips toward his and kissed me, and I shut my eyes and enjoyed it. When the kiss broke, Eli was in the bed with Logan and I. Damon then joined us. A moment later, all three men were stroking and caressing me like I belonged to all of them at once. I wasn’t about to complain, not after that.

  I shut my eyes and allowed myself to relax.

  “Go back, li
ttle one, you’ve missed a spot.” My eyes shot open at the sound of a voice that belonged neither to Logan, to Eli, or to Damon. I was alone on the bed now, and I shot bolt-upright. The bed was definitely empty, but I was not alone.

  In the corner of the room, in the armchair Eli had been sitting on a moment ago, there was another man draped in shadow. I watched him stand and step into the beam of moonlight breaking through the bedroom window. It was Brishan Roses, the man from the tunnel, the leader of the Circus. He was wearing a black military jacket with silver trim and buttons, a black t-shirt with the silhouette of a jester’s cap on it, tight black jeans, and black combat boots.

  He smiled brightly, and I noticed he was wearing eyeliner around his eyes.

  “What do you want?” I asked, pulling the covers more tightly around me.

  Brishan smiled, and from somewhere inside the room—maybe from where he was standing, maybe from under the bed, maybe from the closet on the other side, I heard the jingle of bells. My blood ran cold.

  “You better hurry,” he said, “It’s getting closer.”

  There was another jingle, only this time it was right next to my ear. The sound made my heart jump so hard I shot into the waking world as if I had been shot out of a cannon. It was dark, the night was full, and I was alone in my room but I felt like I wasn’t alone. It was like those unfounded fears you have of sleeping with your foot slightly off the bed, that somehow this invites the boogeyman to reach out from under the bed and grab it. Only I thought there was someone in the room with me, standing in the corner directly to the right of the window, cloaked in darkness.

  But then the panic disappeared like the fog of sleep, the corner of the room brightened, and I saw there was nothing there to worry about, only an armchair on which I had dumped a bunch of my things. I soothed myself with a couple of deep breaths, then I sat on the edge of the bed and let my feet touch the ground. As I moved, I realized my mask was under the covers with me. I picked it up and stared at it, this Talisman that was somehow able to enter the dream world with me.