by Liz Strange
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry about the noise.”
“Well, it’s a bit late. We’ve already been here once tonight.”
I was definitely going to kick Shannon’s butt.
The officer continued. “I suggest you go in there and ask everyone to leave. I’m giving you twenty minutes. If we have to come back, there’s going to be some charges laid.”
I opened my mouth to answer, when somewhere off in the distance there was a faint sound. Not just a sound— a voice. The words were so quiet I strained to hear what was being said. The police officer apparently heard it too, because he turned from me, and looked out into the darkness. The other officer stepped out of the car, looking in the same direction as his partner, trying to see what held our attention.
“Who’s there?” the second officer shouted into the night.
The response came, soft and calm, whispering over us like the wind through the trees. “Leave the girl alone. Get back in your car and leave. Now.” The sound caressed me, my body responding immediately to its familiarity.
My brain struggled to process what was happening. The officers inexplicably drove off without another word. The sounds of the party seemed oddly distant, filtered through the presence of the night. I strained to see into the darkness beyond the touch of the streetlamp, with a soft tugging in the back of my mind I could not quite understand. I sat on the cold, hard concrete, shaky but not afraid. I forced myself to focus.
A voice. That’s what distracted us, a voice out of the darkness.
Gazing out again, I was drawn across the street to the darkened park. I could not look away, even if I wanted to, though I saw nothing but night. Then, slowly, against the chain link fence, a form emerged from the darkness. I rose from the step for a better look, certain it was the figure there, though it was difficult to tell if it was a man or a woman.
Then the person was closer, although neither of us had moved, now on the side of the fence closest to where I stood. The individual was dressed in dark clothing from head to toe, with a long coat that swirled about its legs. The light from the lamp reflected off white hands and face. It was the stranger from the hospital.
Suddenly we were face to face on the damp grass at the edge of the park. His piercing blue eyes held me in their gaze. He spoke my name, though his beautiful red lips never moved. He took me in his arms, a gentle smile playing on his face.
I was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. He laughed softly, a happy, wonderful sound. His mouth opened, and his teeth were very white against his lips. As my hand touched his silky hair, my mind flashed on the death reports, the vision of the man being attacked, and the night at the club. Sensations rocked my body— fear, cold, lust. Then my mind went blank.
When I came to I was nauseous and confused. I could hear my name being repeated, over and over, but it was no longer his voice speaking. I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me urgently, and I forced myself to look up. Shannon stood over me, a frightened look on her face. I blinked, slowly coming to my senses. I was lying in the middle of the street.
She grabbed my hand, and helped me to my feet, holding onto my arm as we made our way back to the front step. My body trembled from a burgeoning panic, and I turned back to the direction of the park, but he was no longer there. Again, it was as if he had never been there at all.
“What happened, Rachel? Someone told me that the police were here, so I came out to see what was going on. Then I see you walking back from the other side of the street and you just collapsed. Did you forget to eat or something?”
I shook my head. “I saw someone at the park. At least I think I did. The police were here, and then he was there, and they left. It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t remember falling at all.” I couldn’t believe how shrill and rushed my voice sounded. It was disturbing, even to me.
Shannon frowned, looking out over the park. “Who did you see? Was it someone you know?” Her voice trailed off as she searched the now-empty street.
It was pointless trying to explain what had happened. She would never understand. I had experienced it, and I was still struggling with what was happening. Standing on the driveway, with the street empty, I had to wonder if I had seen anything at all. I was thinking about him too often, and I was so tired. I wanted to see him, and maybe my desperation had made me hallucinate the whole thing.
Several people watched our exchange from the front step and I suddenly felt foolish. “Forget it. I’m just tired. I guess I didn’t really see anything after all.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting weird lately.”
“I’m fine. I’ve just been having a lot of trouble sleeping. It’s making me kinda crazy. Let’s get these people out of here before the cops get back, and I can get to bed.”
She gazed out over the street one last time, before looking me right in the eye. I thought she was going to say something else, but she kept her mouth shut and followed me into the house. The door slammed loudly behind us, and it was all I could do to find the strength to get up the stairs, and into my bed. Shannon cleared the house in short order. The music stopped, and I was finally in the dark warmth and familiarity of my room.
But my mind wasn’t ready to shut down. Questions and images ran through my thoughts. Did I really see him there at the fence? If I did, why was he here? How did he know my name? Where I lived? I pictured the way the light shone off his perfect white skin, without a blemish or imperfection.
What had happened earlier, when it was as though I had seen with his eyes? Who was that man and what was he doing with him? It didn’t make sense. None of it did. One couldn’t see other people’s thoughts, or feel their emotions. It was crazy, and I was so, so tired.
I awoke suddenly, without realising I had fallen asleep, and had the strangest urge to look outside. I made my way down the stairs, until I stood in front of the large window in the living room overlooking the park across the street. The night was an odd colour of violet, the shade of a healing bruise. It was very close to dawn. I felt pulled to go outside, and enjoy the night for the last few moments before the new day started, and the darkness was lost.
The air was cold and damp. The sky was changing, and I was suddenly sure that I was too. I was standing there, absorbing the night somehow. It was a strange symbiosis, something I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. There was an odd tightness in my chest, and yet a comfort that was indescribable. I was shaky, and wanted something I could not translate into words.
Then a sickness started in the pit of my stomach— hard, angry stabs of pain. I sat, leaning over until my cheek pressed against the cold concrete. What was happening to me?
I was slipping over the boundaries of sleep, when I heard my name being whispered softly against my ear. I struggled to roll over, but there was no strength left in my body. Then I saw his face. He was so angelic, delicate looking, almost child-like. His eyes were even bluer than I remembered, and they burnt with such intensity. He stared down into my face, his features so sharp and clear they strained my eyes. I tried to speak, but he pressed a hand to my lips.
Slowly he lowered his face, and pressed his lips against mine. I had never felt that strange before; so wonderful, so aroused, and yet sick at the same time. I couldn’t understand anything but how his touch felt on my body. My heart raced, and I couldn’t breathe. I had never experienced anything this intense in my life. The immense pleasure verged on pain, and I couldn’t discern where my own feelings ended and his began.
“Rachel.” His lips softly brushed my ear. “I want you to be mine. You stir feelings in me that I didn’t think it were possible for my kind to feel. You have opened a part of me I thought died a long time ago. I know this doesn’t make sense, but it will in time, I promise you. The more I watch you and learn about you, the more certain I am this is meant to be. You haunt me, with a power and a desire you are not even aware of.” He gently kissed my cheek. “Think of me.”
I ached, and I could not move. I was happy a
nd I was afraid that it wasn’t real, scared it was true. Was I dreaming? Was I losing my mind? I was heavy and vulnerable. Softly the fog of sleep rolled in, and I couldn’t fight it any longer. His arms slipped under my body, and my face pressed against his chest. The sound of my breathing was loud, then nothing at all.
The next thing I knew I was in darkness. I was alone, warm and safe, in the comfort of my own bed. I couldn’t remember returning to the house, if I ever left it at all. It was difficult telling reality from dreams.
My blinds were up, with the soft light entering as the sun began to rise. I waited, hoping to hear his voice or feel his touch, but I was alone. My tears were warm against my cheeks and I suffered weariness to the very core of my being. Soon I was sound asleep, lost in dreams of him.
Chapter 3
Every night for the next two weeks the same dream consumed my sleep. Each time I lay down I would toss fitfully, aching like an addict in need of a fix. As I finally crossed into unconsciousness, I would be pulled into a strange dream, and it was always the same— intense, erotic and very disturbing.
The room would be candlelit, with the shadows dancing like the northern lights across the pale, unadorned walls. The shade on the window would be drawn up, with the windows wide open to the night air, and an unspoken invitation to whomever may be watching from the outside. The darkness beyond the window was its own presence, waiting to spill in.
I walked slowly to the bed and gently folded down the pale yellow cover. The material was heavy, yet as soft as down in my hands. I leant over and blew out all the candles, except for the one on the nightstand, which left barely enough light to see by. As my head touched the pillow, I would appear to fall into an instant and effortless sleep.
As I lay there, I would become aware of a new sound: the gentle rise and fall of music. It was like the sounds of an orchestra, keeping rhythm with my breathing. It gained momentum with each breath, building and filling the room.
The whole thing was something beyond a dream. It was an experience with the sensations of touch, sound and smell. It was as though the scene was staged, each movement manipulated by something beyond my own subconscious. I could feel something there, a presence, an influence just beyond the periphery of my control.
In the next instant, he would be there beside me on the bed, his beauty shining in the hazy light. I would reach out to touch his face, and his silken red lips would pull into a smile. His eyes would be glowing their perfect, piercing blue, with reflections of red dancing across them from the flickering candlelight. He would lean in closely and I could smell him, his scent indistinguishable from the spring rain, and he would rest his head against my shoulder. My body trembled against his touch. Soft kisses fell across my face, and when he looked up again, the smile was still there, but something dark and frightening lurked behind those blue, blue eyes.
As we drew toward each other, his smile would widen, and that’s when I would see the change. His teeth became fangs, and his tongue would hungrily trace its way across their surface. His lips were so red and full I thought they would burst and drip with blood, and yet, I didn’t pull away.
Fragments of sound from the night of the party would filter in, laughter, music, drunken cheers, and the wailing wind. There were flashes of the moon, and the police, and Shannon’s face after she found me in the road. The eerie, undefined music became a more familiar tune, echoing in the room. Whether this song had actually been playing, or if it was something pulled from my memories of another time, I will never be sure. The pounding, throbbing of the drum became the sound of my heart. It filled the room around us.
It was like looking onto a figure carved from white marble, but his tortured eyes held a dark longing in them. The unnatural light fanned out around him, a halo masking the devil inside. Without movement his lips would suddenly be pressed to my throat, cool against the warm rush of blood through my veins. My lips would part, my face a reflection of intense pleasure or pain?
Then I would wake, and find myself in some odd place. I always awoke close to the front door, sometimes even out on the steps or the damp front lawn, as though in my sleep I was trying to get outside. It happened that way without fail, lost in the dream one moment, awake the next. There was never a feeling of transition, or burgeoning awareness, I was just abruptly awake. I would find myself sprawled and drenched with sweat, my body acutely aroused and drained.
I would look about frantically, never frightened, but desperate to find something that was never there. What did I expect, really? I guess I hoped for come concrete proof I wasn’t losing my mind. Instead, I would pick myself up, and return to my familiar bed. There I would try to return to sleep. Alone.
Sometimes, lying in the darkness of my room, I would close my eyes and imagine I could hear the music. With effort, I could remember the feeling of his cool touch against my skin.
Yet, some part of me was convinced the dream was real, that it somehow had to be. I felt connected to him, in a way there was no explanation for. The night of the party had been real, at least part of it had, anyway. We had met at the hospital, and again at the club. Shannon had seen us together, however briefly, as we passed her on our way out. These dreams, if they could be called dreams, were so real.
My ties with life as I knew it were becoming shaky, quickly dissolving. The lines between real and not, waking and dreams, blurred, and it troubled me. I went through the motions of eating and going to work, the whole time waiting for answers, sleep and him.
On a night several weeks after the encounter at my home, I had an interesting conversation with Allen. He visited the office to say “hi,” as he almost always did, and I could tell right away something was up. When he didn’t spill it willingly, I tried to coax it out of him.
“Whatever happened with those all those deaths? No one ever came to talk to me, so I assumed that nothing suspicious was found?” I decided at that point to not mention what I read in the coroner’s reports. I wasn’t sure yet what it meant.
“No,” he agreed, but his demeanour instantly changed. He pulled back from leaning over the counter to look down my top. “There was a review and nothing came of it. The bigwigs decided it was all natural causes, but some other stuff has happened since then, so you’ll probably be getting a call after all.”
“Okay.” There was clearly more to it than that, but he wasn’t sharing. “What about the stranger I told you about? Anything ever turn up there?”
“Funny you should mention that. That’s what I’m talking about. I thought I saw him myself the other night. I caught this dark-haired guy coming out of a patient’s room real late, you know, way past visiting hours. I called after him, but he didn’t stop. I started to follow him, telling him to stop but he just kept walking and never looked back at me. Then he rounded a corner and when I followed, he was gone. Just gone. I looked everywhere, but there was no sign of him. It was the darndest thing.”
I felt a chill as he described the experience. Of our three encounters, every time he had vanished, seemingly in the blink of an eye. “And the patient?”
He hesitated. “Dead.”
A chill ran up my spine. “I’m assuming you reported this.”
“Yep, but just like that nurse, I told you I didn’t see his face. I got nothing. You’re the only one who’s seen what he looks like.”
I didn’t imagine that had been by accident. For some reason he had wanted me to see him, and remember him. This time he seemed to have been caught red-handed in the death of a patient. Did I still want to have him catch up with me again?
Allen was still talking. “… make sure that you’re careful. If you want me to, I can walk you out to your car when you’re done.”
“No, thanks. I think I’m good. The parking lot has cameras, and I’m sure you scared him off.” I gave the most sincere-looking smile I could muster.
The new girl was listening intently, hands stopped over her keyboard. I looked in her direction and she immediately started typing again.
That’s right, honey, keep your nose out of this.
Allen gave me a last once-over, and with a light pounding of his fist against the counter, turned to leave. “Keep your eyes open, ladies,” he called back over his shoulder.
That certainly put a new twist on things, adding more fuel to the fire of my suspicions.
I had my suspicions, things I assumed were fantasy. I was almost angry at myself for even considering it at first, but the more I learnt, and the more interaction I had, the more I became convinced. I read everything I could get my hands on. I watched movies for any spark of similarity or truth. At last, I concluded that the truth was only going to come from the stranger himself.
As the days stretched into weeks, I was at a standstill. My interview with the hospital administration came and went, the police took my statement, and still there were no more visits. Though I initially thought that crossing paths with this man was the catalyst for taking my life in the direction it was meant to go, I now saw that this turn of events had simply knocked me off course. Even the dreams occurred with less and less frequently. It was about time to shake these feeling off, and take control of my life again. God, if only I could get some answers.
I needed to do something, instead of waiting for something or someone I had absolutely no control over. I approached Shannon on a night neither of us were working, and asked her to do something with me. At first she was reluctant because I had been so distant, and from her point of view, moody and awkward. After talking her out of hitting the clubs— I couldn’t bear the though of any unwanted attention— we decided to go for a coffee before a movie. I needed to distract myself from the endless, repetitive rounds of thoughts and images burnt in my brain. I just needed to catch my breath, and not think about him for a while.
As we sat in the cafe, I watched the throng of people spilling past, and in some strange way I envied them, the couples smiling and holding hands. I saw people young and old, faces bright or drawn, and envied them living their easy lives. It was difficult to imagine living such a life after all I had experienced in recent months.