by Lola Gabriel
Sebastian’s heart was only a few quick beats away from a heart attack. He very seldomly had to fight those days, let alone in his human form. His senses were on high alert, causing him to pay attention to things he shouldn’t have and giving the men he was fighting the opportunity to land mighty blows to his ribs and face. Sebastian had to really think about what he was doing, which was always a weird sensation, seeing as how fighting used to be not second, but first nature to him.
In a matter of minutes, however, Osric had one of the men motionless on the ground and was working on the other. Just as Sebastian went to punch the man he was fighting, he stepped backward and tripped over the foot of the unconscious one. The man stood over Sebastian and grabbed at the collar of his shirt to pull him off the ground and raised his other hand high in the air. Sebastian tensed, preparing for the blow, when the man was effortlessly thrown from him. Sirens sounded in the distance as a furious Osric came into view. With a hard glare, he extended a hand toward his grandson.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said with acidity.
Once Sebastian was on his feet, he followed his grandfather, feeling like a pup with his tail between his legs. They turned the corner, and Osric slowed to a stroll, not wanting to look suspicious. When their speeds aligned and they were side by side, Osric hissed to him in a whisper, “This is real, and you haven’t trained in over a thousand years. It’s time you joined the warriors.”
Sebastian was deeply embarrassed that those men had managed to overcome him so easily, but he didn’t feel the need to prove his manliness to his father and grandfather.
“I’m not that guy anymore, Osric. You and Father both need to accept that.” They reached the car, and Osric turned to face Sebastian before they got in.
“This may not be a matter of what you want to do and what you think is best for your overall karma or whatever it is that has you the way you are. Please remember what just happened. Those men were bold enough to attack you in the street, to attack me in that manner. Do you really think these are just some hooligans who became a little too vocal about their dislike for the Crown?”
Sebastian’s gaze fell, his jaw clenched. He didn’t like that Osric was actually making sense. While Sebastian had left violence and anger in his past, he knew that he couldn’t simply stand by while his family was being threatened. Then there was Winter to think about in the entire situation; if one of the rebels were to spot them together, they could go after her to get to Sebastian. The realization gripped his heart to the extent of losing his breath.
Sebastian opened his car door, and he hoarsely called to Osric, “I will train and be prepared to defend the family, but I will not join the warriors. That is my final decision.”
Getting in, Sebastian slammed the door behind him and sank into the seat, rubbing a hand aggressively over his tired face. Why was it that as soon as he had something going well for himself, his family had to come along and complicate things? It was selfish to think that way, though, and he was aware of the fact. It wasn’t like the world had stopped just because he had met Winter, even though he would have loved for it to. When Osric hopped inside the car, Sebastian muttered over to where his car was located before leaning his head against the glass and closing his eyes. He was starting to feel as though the entire world was against him.
8
Winter peeled off her clothes, a wave of relief coming over her when she wrangled her feet free from the black tights. After texting Sebastian that she had safely made it home, she indulged in a half glass more of wine and some chips that were already beginning to stale. She watched reruns of old black and white shows while she enjoyed her snack, idly pondering when was the last time she had watched television prior to that night.
Every once and a while, Winter would catch her eyes glancing down to her cell phone, hoping to see a notification pop up, waiting for her. At that point in her life, the only reason she owned a cell phone was in order to communicate with work and school, as well as for safety while roaming the city by herself. Corey was the only non-coworker who ever called her, knowing that he had better chances of winning the lottery than getting a text back from her.
The same feeling of rationality gnawed at Winter, even in her stupor. Only, after that evening, the rationality had solid ground to stand on. There was something off about Sebastian, and Winter could feel it. She hadn’t noticed it right away, but as she sat at the bar, watching the tiny cartoon taxi move across the screen, it had hit her. Sebastian had been off since the moment he recognized that man across the bar. Who could it have been? Sebastian claimed he was an associate of his dad’s, but for a reason unknown to Winter, she didn’t believe that. Somehow those things didn’t piece together properly in her mind.
That “associate” could have been anyone. A crooked businessman, a mob boss, a lobbyist who funneled money into Big Pharma, she thought. Winter didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. With the kind of money Sebastian appeared to have, they could have been involved in anything. She thought better of him than that, but it was just the reality of the situation.
Fed up with her own thoughts, Winter got up from the couch and headed to her bedroom. Flopping down onto her bed and twisting herself up into her blankets and sheets, it wasn’t long until she was in a deep sleep. Her body relaxed, letting go of all the tension it had been storing throughout the day. Her breathing was even and deep. Soon, the blackness of her slumber began to fade into colors and fuzzy shapes. Winter couldn’t make out anything at first, and then the objects slowly sharpened in definition. Images flashed through her mind like someone going through a slideshow.
Stone walls. Medieval dresses. Stallions standing on their hind legs. Bloodcurdling screams. Men with hammered metal plates strapped to their chests and skin darkened from long days in the Italian sun. She could feel the hot, humid air of summer along with the stuffiness of her room without a gentle breeze to cool it. Without the willpower to stop herself, Winter turned her head to look at a man across the room. The moments of consecutive imagery ended before she could get a look him.
Dark, foggy woods. Wolves howling. The sound of distant growls that were far too deep to be an animal Winter had ever known. Gold coins falling onto dirty frail hands. A busy town square with people bustling in every direction with carts, cattle, and children, yet Winter was only objectively aware of those things. Her full attention was on a single pair of brown eyes from across the market. Except that they weren’t just brown—they were the color of oxygen-rich clay. The longer she stared at them, the more the red hue stood out. The man with black hair and a hood stared so intensely at Winter that she could not move, as though he were Medusa and had turned her into stone.
His eyes were all she could see, so close and in such great detail that she could have counted the speckles in her mind. Gradually, the most wicked smile curled the man’s lips, and he gave a small wave to Winter. Never had she been so terrified of a supposedly friendly gesture.
New images flashed before her, relieving her of what she was sure was a nightmare. Fields of golden wheat. Women in dresses picking grapes in a vineyard. Staring down into a goblet of maroon liquid, catching a waft of just how strong the fermentation was as she swirled the cup.
Then, there was a warmth that Winter could never put into words. It was nearly bliss, like having the knowledge that you were unconditionally loved in the most literal definition. Strong arms wrapped around her and brought her into a source of body heat that should have been uncomfortable with the sticky heat that dominated not only her bedroom, but the entire peninsula. Still, Winter leaned into it and sighed contently, feeling like a lizard in the sun. Massive hands glided along the curve of her back before trailing to her hip and tugging her even closer.
“We’re eventually going to have to move,” a familiar, husky voice croaked.
“Why?” she heard herself sigh. “Why can’t we just stay here in bed with wine until the end of all days?”
The man chuckled, nuzzling he
r neck. “We both have a role, my love. Expectations that we both have to meet.”
“Why? Because they’ll send the Calvary after us?”
He scoffed. “I only dare an army to try and take you away from me.”
“Then why can’t we, Bash?” she pouted.
Just as Winter inwardly gasped at the nickname, Sebastian’s face came into view. He was as bronzed as the other soldiers she had seen. His black hair was shaggy and untamed, having distinct waves to its texture. All of it paled in comparison to his eyes. The pools of Caribbean waters stared down into the pit of her soul. As though he could see through this vessel in which Winter was, he continued looking at Winter herself.
“There are some things in life that are out of our control. Like loyalty to family, because as trivial as they may seem sometimes, they are the only ones that will protect you in the darkest times. You are my family, my world. I still have my responsibilities, though, no matter how unsavory they may be. As do you.” With the tip of his finger, Sebastian traced her bottom lip. Winter held her breath. “Know that no matter what happens, I will always return to you.”
Emotion strangled her, unsure if she could have gotten out a sound, let alone a breath. “And any time you find yourself lost, my love, I will always find you.”
There was an underlying meaning to the usage of lost, understanding that it didn’t mean he would get lost out in the wilderness. Lost in himself. Why had Sebastian been lost? A dainty olive hand caressed his cheek, and his eyes closed as he leaned into the touch.
The flashes returned, but they were accompanied by waves of conflicting, polarizing emotions. Fear so prevalent that a scream rose in Winter’s throat. Massive, pointed teeth, the distinct noise of bat wings flapping, a screech that was animalistic but not distinct enough to place. In a whirlwind, the fear was sucked away as a tide of awe came over her. Her mind was dead silent except for the sound of her quickened, shallow breaths.
An electric blue eye with a reptilian pupil was all Winter could see. Flapping bat wings echoed in the silence. The picture zoomed out slowly. Her brain couldn’t process the image all at once. Cornfield blue scales. Horns. Wings that spanned endlessly against the clouds. The beast flew higher and was almost invisible to the naked eye in seconds, camouflaged under its blue scales.
Not a beast. A dragon.
Winter snapped up in her bed, gasping for air, and instinctively clutched her chest. Her body was covered in such a sweat that it was as if she had been in Rome herself. How did she know she was in Rome in her dream? It certainly wasn’t the modern-day Rome she had seen in pictures. The clothing and architecture seemed to be from the very early middle ages. It took her a few minutes to regain her bearings. She was in her apartment with her laptop, television, personal shower, and most importantly, air conditioning.
Once she knew she was okay, Winter stood up and ran her hands through her tangled curls. Where in the world had that dream come from? She couldn’t recall having such a detailed and realistic dream since she was a child. Had it been the wine that caused such vividness? Her mind latched onto that, attempting to convince herself that it was the only logical reason. However, Winter knew within herself that it couldn’t be. It wasn’t often that she drank, but she had experienced being in that state enough to get an understanding of how alcohol affected her. She never dreamed when she drank.
The dream came to her in flashes as she moved about her usual morning routine of showering, brushing her teeth, pulling on her uniform, and heading out the door for work with her backpack in hand. No matter how much she tried to give her full attention to whatever was the task at hand, the memory of last night’s dream would constantly sneak back into her thoughts. Winter found herself staring down at her notepad, thinking about the dragon’s scales shimmering in the sunlight while taking someone’s order. A few attempts of the customer repeating, “Ma’am?” was enough to eventually grab her attention; she snapped out of it with no idea how long she had been in such a trance.
Time passed at a weird pace. She would feel as though time was at a standstill, and every time she glanced at the clock, even less time than she anticipated would have passed. Then, it was as if the lag would catch back up to her. Winter, being in her own world, was certain that there were still a couple hours before the end of her shift, except that she caught a glimpse of the time stamp on a receipt she was giving someone. Not only was it past the end of her shift, but she was late for class.
Upon remembering the existence of school, Winter also realized that she had failed to take care of her schoolwork after coming home the night before. An initial shock of anxiety sent her heart into a nosedive for her stomach.
How could I have forgotten to do the one thing that I was stressing about all last night? She knew that sitting and worrying about it wouldn’t do anything to help the situation, so, feeling utterly disappointed, Winter mentally scolded herself and took some breaths to calm down. There was no way the day could get any worse.
That was when she realized she hadn’t brought a change of clothes for school and would have to sit through the entirety of class in her dirty uniform. Sucking it up, Winter rushed to school, not waiting for crosswalks if no cars were within a dangerous distance. Arriving thirty minutes late and in her work clothes was embarrassing, half of the heads turning to look at her as she entered. Sitting down in the back after spotting her usual seat taken, Winter took a few deep breaths and began pulling out her materials.
When she reached into the big pocket and felt only the defining shapes of her college algebra and philosophy textbooks, panic flooded Winter. She pried her bag open to thoroughly check, as if the door to Narnia would be hidden away in the seams of her backpack. Her eyes searched the ground as she tried to locate the last place where she’d had her Environmental Biology book. It had to have been on her coffee table, left there from the morning before.
“Damnit,” she muttered under her breath.
The morning was coming to a head, and she could feel herself start to sweat. Recognizing this, Winter coached herself through repetitive thoughts, telling herself she was all right, that it was just an off day, and she would take steps to keep it from happening again. Her never-ending obsession to self-analyze did not miss a beat. It didn’t take long for her to find the culprit. Sebastian.
The thought tasted sour, and Winter grimaced. She didn’t want to think that Sebastian was bad for her life when he had done nothing to hinder her. It was all her own fault: Winter should have taken the time to make sure her things were ready for the next day before she got ready for their date. Then it was her own sluggish mind that hadn’t been able to banish the dream from that morning. Why couldn’t she untwist her stomach from the knots these worries had caused?
Unsure if she simply just wasn’t learning from her mistakes, Winter felt the sudden need to talk to Sebastian. Since they had already touched base on how they felt, and with how overwhelmed she was feeling on this terrible morning, talking to him felt like the only thing to make sense out of all her jumbled, conflicting thoughts. Nibbling on her lip, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and sent Sebastian a text, making sure to keep the phone beneath her desk so that the professor didn’t spot her texting during the lecture.
Hey, would you like to meet up tonight? Maybe grab some dinner?
As soon as she hit send, Winter recalled why she couldn’t stand texting. On the phone and face to face, they had to reply right away. Sure, they might not pick up their phone, but no communication was, in most instances, better than miscommunication. How did couples cope with texting? It felt too open-ended. They could sit there with your words for as long as they wanted, picking it apart and twisting each word you said into a totally different narrative than what you were trying to communicate. And—
Of course. Does 8 o’clock work for you?
A sigh of relief escaped her without her realizing. She texted him back to agree to the time. Before Winter closed her phone, she paused. She wasn’t yet
ready to share Sebastian with Corey. Knowing how Corey was with his opinions, she wanted to draw her own conclusions without having someone else’s perspective to twist hers. At the same time, though, not sharing it with him made Winter feel as though she was hiding things from him.
By the time Winter sent Corey a text to see if they could hang out before her date with Sebastian, the shuffling of chairs and feet ripped her from her thoughts. Class was already over? Never before had she been so disconnected from a college class. Honestly, from how absentminded she was that whole morning, she could have skipped that day and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Winter had to get a grip, and despite her reservations about discussing her newfound love interest with her old friend, she knew that it might be the only way for her to get out of her own head. It had only been a bad day, but she didn’t want it to get out of control. One bad day was bad enough.
Winter hardly got through the door of the lecture hall when her phone began buzzing. As soon as she slid the unlock button, Corey was squealing in her ear.
“You actually texted me! This is such a big day. Grandma finally figured out how to work a smartphone, you guys!” He spoke as though he were announcing it to a room full of family and close friends. “To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you twice in the same week?”
“I dunno. Just had a weird couple of days and thought that hanging out would do me some good. Trying to take your advice and all that.” Winter’s voice had trailed off into a mumble, not fully thinking about what she was saying. If she were to open up about Sebastian, she was sure to get an earful of I told you so.
“Well, I’ll be. And they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Corey chided.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Do you want to meet up or not?” Winter questioned.
“Sure. I’ve already eaten, though. Want to go to the park?”
“Sounds good. Are you around campus? I can be there in about ten minutes.”