Rebirth of the Seer

by Peter W. Dawes

  The world faded around me. Time itself lost all meaning. I walked across the threshold, and stopped immediately in front of the pool of fresh blood.

  ***

  Bolting upright, I felt the world spiral as I struggled to disengage myself from whatever I had just witnessed. The scene around me changed; instead of a sterile corridor, I was surrounded by the room in which I had fallen asleep, only this time far darker than it had been when I drifted off. My chest rose and fell as I swallowed air in gulps, my mind disoriented chaos with me too panicked to properly sort out what had just happened. The last fleeting images which had assailed me remained burned into my mind.

  “Monica.” I spoke her name again, in softer tones with a voice still gravelly from sleep. My gaze shot around the room, failing to connect with anything longer than a few seconds, while my hands gripped the sheets beneath me. I turned my head, but failed to see her anywhere else in the room. “Monica?” I asked in a much louder tone of voice.

  Still nothing. Twisting in place, I saw my glasses on a nightstand beside the bed and dove for them, sprawled on the mattress when I thrust the spectacles over my sensitive eyes. The lights were out, with the curtains drawn, and I could feel nocturne’s melody humming softly all around me. Still, I remained in the same state of awareness I had been in when yet in the throes of a visceral nightmare.

  “That was no nightmare,” I murmured. Springing to my feet, I circled the room once to satisfy that my watcher was not hiding anywhere. I collected my sword and vaulted the bed to emerge out the bedroom door.

  “Monica? Where are you?” I glanced around while not stopping. The television remained off and a lamp had been switched on. There were no signs of a struggle, but there was no evidence of Monica, either. The chill in the air left me to wonder if evil itself had taken up residence in the floorboards and now bled through the plaster on the walls. She was not in the kitchen and the bathroom door was ajar. I nearly collapsed onto my knees.

  She had been taken. Gods, I surely knew it. My dreams had been evil premonitions and Ian had marched through the apartment, claiming her as his spoils and to bait me. I ran my fingers through my hair and clenched my eyes shut. When I got ahold of that bastard, I would flay him into–

  A sound interrupted my thoughts. I spun around just in time to witness an impossible, amazing sight. The front door opened and Monica strolled into the apartment, holding the keys in her hand. She shut the door, but froze when she saw the expression on my face. “Peter?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

  In her hands, she held a bag which she swiftly set down onto the kitchen counter. The keys joined it as the aroma of food filled the air, but Monica left it alone in favor of meeting me where I stood. I dropped the sword onto the ground. As her arms circled me, I wrapped mine tight around her and clutched her against my chest. “Are you alright?” I asked, wondering which of us was the one trembling. I suspected it might be me.

  “I’m fine, Peter.” She pulled away enough to look me in the eyes. “What the hell happened to you? You look like you just crawled out of one of hell’s windows.”

  I bent at the waist and buried my face in her hair. “The oddest sensation came over me. I was certain something had happened to you when I woke and you were not there.”

  She laughed. “I slept like the dead until about two hours ago, but a person has to shower and eat, you know.” I lifted my head when she touched my cheek. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth while compassion remained latent in her gaze. “You were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you. So I snuck out.”

  I nodded, but clenched my eyes shut. “I understand. And you should not have to inform me of your every move.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I had a dream. Or, I think it was a dream. I daresay the last time I experienced something so visceral was during my last conversation with Lydia.”

  “You had a dream?” The way she asked the question forced my eyes open. Her fledgling smile had vanished. “The kind of dream where the sights and smells and sounds all feel like you’re right in the middle of some other place?”

  “Yes, precisely that.”

  “Well, fuck.” She sighed, looking away at first, then nodding and tugging me closer to the couch. One of my hands slid to the small of her back while the other arm fell to my side. We sat together and she turned to face me, causing me to mirror her posture so that we looked directly at each other. Silently, we regarded each other, her eyes looking past mine as though examining a corridor somewhere else. “You’ve never had this happen before,” she said.

  I felt her hands clasp mine, but failed to break eye contact. “As I said, the only experiences I can compare it to are my encounters with Lydia.”

  Monica nodded. She freed one hand, touching my temple with her fingertips. “You just received a vision. They’re standard fare for seers. Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “The Fates don’t hand out visions willy-nilly. Then again, they don’t let the dead commune with people very regularly either.” Her lips pursed in thought, her gaze shifting to her fingers before returning to my eyes. “Would you let me see it?”

  I furrowed my brow. “You can do such a thing?”

  A wan smile curled the corners of her lips. “You can, too. I’m actually counting on you projecting it a little for me. Your mind’s too secure for me to brute force my way in anymore.”

  My Adam’s apple bobbed as I swallowed hard, a host of thoughts dancing across my mind. The knowledge that the nature of the game had changed idled somewhere in the background, but I managed a slight nod. Monica reciprocated the nod and shut her eyes. I followed her cue and did the same.

  “Take a few deep breaths and think about the last thing you saw before you woke.” Her instruction prompted immediate response. At first, the image of the blood pool threatened to jar me back into panic, but the more I focused on it, the more detached it became. For a few, fleeting moments, I forgot whose blood that was, in favor of opening the doors of my mind wide for Monica.

  As I did, though, the movie started to play backward. I jumped and Monica’s free hand rose to settle on my shoulder, holding me in place. The soundtrack had been cut, stripping the taunting voice from the scene, but the sense of danger remained at full volume, unable to be silenced. My consciousness flung wide open and when the events reached the sword fight, they played forward once again. My reaction was the same as it had been the first time. The moment my feet touched the crimson lake, my eyes flew open.

  Monica gasped, withdrawing her shaky hands as though she had been jolted. A dull ache formed at my forehead, and my watcher rubbed her own temples while struggling to catch her breath. I frowned, reaching for her on instinct. Monica did not resist when I pulled her against my chest.

  “A vision?” I asked, feeling her tremble in my arms.

  She failed to answer. Her fingers clutched onto my shirt, balling a fistful against her palm as the sound of her breathing changed from quick and erratic, to slower, pausing altogether at moments as she worked on calming herself. She remained tense, though, even when the rhythm of her heart ceased its frantic pace. I kissed her hair. “Please speak to me,” I said.

  Her silence only made me more concerned. I attempted to pull her away – to look into her eyes and ensure I had not injured her in forcing her from my mind so abruptly – but when she refused to relinquish her grip, I read something different in the action. The side of her face pressed against my chest and I felt her hitch, hearing barely-suppressed sob escape her lips. I opened my mouth to continue speaking, but she finally managed, “That was… supposed to be me?”

  My eyes clenched shut. “I have no notion of who that might have been. I feared it was you, though.” Without realizing I was doing it at first, I begun stroking her hair in slow, calming motions. “That is not going to happen.”

  Admittedly, I spoke the declaration with more resolve than I had the authority to administer. Still, when she failed to relax, I re
peated it again. “That is not going to happen, Monica.” Her body shook and the sound of crying reached my ears, but I refused to indulge it. There would be no resignation. Nobody – not some dark magician, not all the powers of heaven or hell – was going to pull the two of us apart. “No,” I said, kissing the top of her head, and then finally using my vampire strength to pull her from me. My hands framed her face. My forehead touched hers. I looked into her eyes, even when she clenched her lids shut. “I care little for visions and see no truth in this. Before you dare tell me some harbinger of the Fates has shown me your death, I am saying I do not care. You will not be leaving my side.”

  I pressed my lips against hers, harshly and with little concern for how much she wished a kiss at that moment. She resisted, which only spurred me to press my mouth to hers more earnestly, skin motioning against skin until she responded at last. Our lips parted and she gasped for breath, but her arms slid around me. This time, a much more urgent and passionate embrace commenced. We toppled onto the couch, where we remained until the first pieces of clothing had been stripped from our bodies.

  Sweeping her into my arms, I carried her back into the bedroom and laid her onto the mattress in a reverent manner. Her eyes would not meet mine as I crawled atop her, but her hands found my chest and ran along the bare skin she had freed. Our first frenzied kisses turned searching. I leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I see no blood or danger before my eyes. Nothing but a dark-haired beauty I mean to protect.” My lips found her neck, relishing the warmth radiating from her in a long string of caresses.

  Monica’s back arched. “Things can change,” she said cryptically. “Maybe this is a warning, but we can’t be so sure.”

  “Surely the Fates know what I would do for you.”

  My mouth moved to capture hers. We exchanged several deep kisses before my watcher broke away. “You are so damn arrogant sometimes. Do you know that?”

  I smirked. “Downright incorrigible.”

  Her words began to gain more confidence. “I can save my own ass, Romeo.”

  “I imagine you can.”

  “It’s going to take more than some smug bastard named Ian to get rid of me.”

  I laughed despite myself, fear and relief juxtaposed in the sound. “It best take more than that. I am going insane for your sake, witch.”

  Monica’s eyes opened. A half-lidded stare met mine, heating the air around us with the way her gaze smoldered. “Sure you want to save me, then?”

  “Absolutely.” Our lips met again, a more tempered – but no less deliberate – kiss commencing with intentions clearly stated. This time, when desire swept us under, everything moved slower than it had before, details lingered upon which had gone ignored before. I finished stripping her with slow relish. She reciprocated my tenor and all the while, I mused on what a spell had been cast on me. A creature which should not have been capable of love was being consumed by it, clutching onto it as though it would be his only escape from hell. It was a notion I revisited with every kiss and moan exchanged. The entire debacle might have unraveled my sanity, but it taunted me with the miraculous in the same breath. As aware as I had been of my dualism throughout the past few weeks, I now become a walking contradiction.

  At once, I was human and immortal; dead and alive. A pulse beat strongly in my chest even with my heart still silent. I breathed the air with renewed purpose while still not needing breath. None of it made sense, yet I found myself examining this new being slipping through the cracks of my soul and I could not determine if I should loathe or embrace the nonsense he carried in his wake. I might have known Monica would be my salvation when I rescued her from the Council, but I could have never guessed just how much she might be my undoing as well.

  I mused upon it as I held her against my chest and stole kisses in her hair. Her back to me, I still knew her eyes were fixed somewhere in the darkness, afterglow having given itself over to reflection for both of us. Our fingers interlaced atop her stomach and whispers from her mind formed the only break in the silence for several minutes.

  Finally, she spoke. “I swear, no matter how many times I hear people tell me the Fates have their ways, I can’t help but wonder why they like playing with us so damn much.” She punctuated the comment with a sigh. I tightened my hold on her reflexively, prompting her to continue. “It’s like the messages get garbled jumping from one plane to another. And by the time they get to us, we have no fucking idea what it is they want. It pisses me off.”

  I chuckled softly and grinned. “Much like being a vampire and attempting to decipher the riddle of humanity.”

  “Oh, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Much more than you could know. I have all the memories of being human, but cannot summon the same thoughts and feelings. By nature, being vampire is completely different.” I paused to breathe her in, my grin turning mischievous. “It is in the blood, I suppose you could say.”

  Monica snickered softly. If she had begun to smile, I could tell when it dissipated as the air around us turned heavier again. She nestled closer to me. “So, I guess humans and vampires have that much in common. We’re both perplexed as hell when we have to decode the mysterious transcripts from the great beyond.”

  “Perplexed, befuddled, and driven completely insane. Although, I am not about to sit back and wait for the puzzle to be made clear.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “I think the time has come to be the devil again.”

  Monica turned, furrowing her brow at me. I chuckled and kissed her softly, telling her I would elaborate further after a shower and a change of clothes. After our talk, a call was placed to Wesley informing him of the next move in our game. I would enter the coven the following evening, and scare the snake from the grass before he had a chance to strike.

  The next night, I pulled out my black shirt again and the black suit jacket I had worn as an assassin. Fastening each button in the same systematic fashion as I had for five years, I stared at a reflectionless mirror and sighed. For the humans, I had to play the man. For the vampires, I had to play a far different role. The cold and sinister assassin could disarm a room full of mortals in his time and leave them eating out of his hand before he drank from their veins. My personality would just have to shift further toward the immortal side once more.

  My watcher walked up behind me, arms wrapping around my waist from behind. A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth at the bizarre way the mirror captured her. “You look ridiculous,” I said, my eyes shifting to the sight of her hugging an invisible entity.

  “You’re so good for my ego,” she said, betraying the statement with a playful curl of her lips. She puckered and kissed thin air. I felt the motion on my back. “Not my fault you’re so damn tall. I can’t see anything past the Great Wall of Peter.”

  “And it is not my fault you are so short.”

  “Bite me, Goliath.”

  I snickered, but sobered immediately, my eyes shifting from dark-haired beauty to where I should have been. I imagined a paler version of the human I had been, sunglasses over his eyes. Something about the mental image provoked a frown, as well as a taunt twist inside my stomach. “This ruse is getting hard to maintain,” I said. “And I fear my ability to hold up to any form of examination at the moment, mortal or immortal.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I have to go from playing nice with your friends to being my colder, more sinister self. And I think Wesley and the others shall not remain ignorant for much longer.” I sighed, turning to face her. Her hold slackened enough to permit the action. “I belong to no one now, so I can convince neither camp of my fidelity. And there is so much at stake before us.”

  Monica regarded me in silence for a few precious moments. My gaze shifted downward, but rose again when one hand slid from my back and lifted to touch the side of my face. “You belong to me,” she said. “And I know you too well by now to doubt you. There have been many times throughout all of this that you lo
oked ready to buckle and brought yourself back to your feet. Don’t think about whose persona you’re trying to wear, think about the mission and what you need to do to get back to me in one piece.”

  A reluctant smile surfaced. “When did you become my cheerleader, witch?”

  “Ah, there you see. That’s sounding like Flynn again already.”

  “And how is that?” My arms circled her. I bent at the waist enough to meet her gaze. “Dashing and deviant?”

  “Devastatingly handsome and cunning.”

  “Be aware, Precious.” Our lips met in a lingering kiss. “I am not to be trusted.”

  My eyes shut. I felt her smile. “They have warned me about you, vampire.”

  “I am a wicked one, this much is for certain. See how willingly you have fallen into my clutches?”

  “Yes, I see it all too well.” Monica sighed. “Your power must’ve been more than I could resist.”

  “I might say the same for you.” Another brief connect of skin on skin brought with it her taste. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if we had the time for another wrestle in the sheets. “Sensuous woman,” I said. “You unnerve me, but I shall allow you to accompany me nonetheless. You suit this devil in black.”

  She chuckled. “A devil who I hope has his throwing daggers on him.”

  “You could frisk me if you need to.”

  “Cheeky bastard.” With a sound whack against my posterior, she drifted away from my arms and turned to leave the room. “Let’s go fetch the others, Flynny. You know how insufferable we mortals get when you vampires keep us waiting.”

  “Do not remind me. Finite creatures. You live your lives racing from one meaningless event to another. You should thank the lot of us when we end you.”

  Monica laughed, and took my arm when it was offered to her. I could not help but to grin – the words sounded detached from my actual sentiments as I played them back in my thoughts. I could issue them convincingly enough, though, and I supposed that was all which mattered for the task at hand. But I could not deny how much I had changed. This new creature no longer sought the sadism of bloodlust. That this mission could have been assigned to me even a week prior, I would have been much more confident in my ability.