by T. A. Chase
War slowly moved closer to Russell, keeping the bird on the other side, away from him. He laid his hand on Russell’s arm, squeezing gently. “I promise you, I’m very real, but it is easier if we meet in your dreams. I wasn’t supposed to spend time with you in the hospital. It’s against our rules.”
“Your rules?” Russell tried to ignore the heat rushing from where War was touching him to his groin. Being attracted to a dream man wasn’t a sign of being in his right mind.
“I’m more than a mere human, Russell. Proved by the fact I’m wandering your dreams and showing up on mountainsides.” War grinned.
While War’s smile tilted his lips, it didn’t warm his all-black eyes. Russell frowned before jerking away from War. The bird squawked and clicked its beak at him.
“Why are your eyes like that? I don’t think I would have dreamed a guy with blood-red hair and black eyes. This isn’t right.”
War eased away as though he sensed Russell’s hesitation and doubt. It was obvious that the man didn’t want to upset or startle Russell any more than he already had. Russell shoved his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends before dropping his hands. He glared at War.
“Where the hell am I?”
“You know. You’ve been dreaming of these steppes for months now. Wait until you see them for real. They are so beautiful and solitary. You’ll truly feel like you’re the only person in the world.”
“How do you know I’m going to Mongolia?”
War chuckled. “This is your dream, Russell, and if I’m really an illusion of your making, I would know whatever is in your mind.”
Before Russell could comment, War waved his hand.
“Come. Let us take a walk. There isn’t anyone out here except for us. No one will bother us and maybe you could ask me questions.”
“About what? You’re something my brain made up. What kind of answers can you have?” Russell asked, but found himself following War anyway.
They were in his dream, nothing could hurt him, and for some strange reason he felt safe with War. There was something about War that spoke to Russell, telling him War would never harm him.
“What kind of bird is that?” He nodded at the creature riding on War’s arm.
War ran his finger over the bird’s chest, smoothing the feathers there. “He’s a gyrfalcon. Not normally native to Mongolia, but they can be found here. I use him for hunting and to keep me company. He’s been with me for ten years, so it’s nearly time for me to release him back into the wild. I don’t keep my birds for long.”
“He’s a bird of prey?”
“Yes.” War strolled along, seeming unhindered by the weight of the bird on his arm. “I spend a lot of time out here on my own. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even though he doesn’t understand me.”
War winked at Russell, and he couldn’t help but laugh. If it was all a dream, what did it matter? He should enjoy himself because real life hadn’t been a joy for him lately.
“You live here?”
“I’ve lived in Mongolia for years. Centuries actually, but that’s another story and not one you’d care to hear.” War seemed to be walking a path only he could see. “I live a nomadic life while raising and training horses.”
“Sounds like a lonely life.”
“It’s a life I’m suited for. I grew up in a nomadic tribe, wandering the sands of what is now Saudi Arabia. I’m used to tearing down and setting up my tent somewhere new. I like to be alone under a wide sky like this.”
He pointed up and Russell smiled, understanding what War was talking about. There were times before he’d left for the army when he’d driven away from his home to find some open space where he could lie on his back and stare up at the sky.
Glancing around him, he noticed they really were the only people for miles around. With a shrug, he dropped to his knees and then to his back. He folded his arms under his head and studied the clouds floating above him. War stood next to him and looked at him for a second before smiling.
Singqor’s cry echoed over the plains as the gyrfalcon launched itself from War’s arm. War joined Russell on the ground, lying close enough for Russell to feel the heat emanating from his body. Russell resisted the need to curl around War and absorb the man’s essence, which was weird because Russell had never had the urge to do that with the men he’d dated.
War wiggled, bringing himself closer to Russell without making it too obvious. Russell looked away to hide his smile.
“Will Singqor be okay?”
“Sure. There’s a stand of scrub trees a mile or two from here. He’ll go there to nap while we talk. He’d just eaten right before you showed up. Usually makes him sleepy.” War reached out and rested his hand on Russell’s stomach.
Russell’s muscles tensed and his cock hardened at War’s touch. The attraction simmering between them was stronger than anything he’d ever felt. He found it difficult to focus on anything else. Yet it was weird to desire someone who only existed in his mind.
Before Russell could say anything or react to War’s touch, War rose up, braced himself on his elbow and stared down at Russell.
“I couldn’t resist the first time we talked. I obviously have no willpower when it comes to you.”
What was he talking about? Russell opened his mouth to ask, but War swooped down and kissed him. As their lips met, Russell remembered where he’d seen War before. He grunted and shoved the man away. Scrambling to his feet, he glared at War.
“You rescued me,” he accused War.
“Yes, I did. Why don’t you sound happy about that?” War sat up and folded his arms, studying Russell like he was on display at the zoo.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
War shrugged. “Didn’t seem important. I thought you remembered talking to me and calling me Red. I didn’t realise you didn’t recognise me, though it is sort of awesome you remembered when we kissed.”
Russell couldn’t decide whether he wanted to punch War or kiss him. “Why are you in my dream? Why were you at the hospital when I left? You’re not a part of the military. Are you even real?”
“Real is relative. Apparently, your subconscious believes I exist.” War moved his gaze to look over Russell’s shoulder. “I’m not part of the military. If you want to put me in a spot, I’m part of a clandestine agency. Very top secret. Very few people know we’re around.”
Annoyance grew in Russell and he rolled his eyes. “Giving me a straight answer would be a start to convincing me you’re telling the truth.”
War climbed to his feet and placed his hands on Russell’s shoulders. He wore an earnest expression. “Honey, I’m a figment of your imagination. Why do you think I’m not telling you the truth? If this is your dream world, then I’m saying what you want me to say.”
Damn, he was right. Yet Russell couldn’t help questioning it. War did quite a few things that Russell wouldn’t have imagined anyone doing. Sure, War might not be real, but some soul-deep instinct kept telling Russell there was more to War than being a dream man.
As strange as it sounded, Russell believed that War existed and breathed outside the dream they were currently in.
A loud bang caught Russell’s attention. He glanced around, but didn’t see anything. Another bang and War stepped away from him.
“What’s that noise?”
“Someone wants to talk to you.” War grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other again.”
Russell frowned, unsure what to do. As annoyed as he was with War, he didn’t want to say goodbye. Yet it did sound like someone wanted him. Nodding, he watched War and the grasslands they stood in fade away.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment. A knock sounded and he called out, “Yes?”
“Russell, we need to talk.”
His father’s voice drifted through the door and Russell sighed. His mother must have broken the news. Now the arguments would start.
“Can’t this wait, Dad?”
“Yes, Dad.”
He climbed out of bed and stretched. God, he hoped he was up to the occasion, though at least his mom was on his side.
Chapter Five
War stood amongst the crowd at Chinggis Khaan International airport, watching the people arriving. The day Russell had left Kansas City, War had hung out at the airport until his plane had taken off. Somehow Russell had convinced his father to let him go. War knew it had been a hard sell, but with his mother supporting him Russell had managed to get his father’s approval.
After the flight had taken off, War had travelled to Africa and met up with Death and got his orders. Another power-hungry warlord had to start a campaign of genocide on a neighbouring tribe. He hated those the most because it took him back to the life he used to live.
He had stabbed his dagger into the warlord’s chest, and the genocide started. He had finished his mission in enough time to arrive at Chinggis Khaan just as Russell’s flight landed. War tugged his cap on and adjusted his sunglasses. He wasn’t ready for Russell to see him. Russell still believed their encounter had been created by his mind; though at times Russell had acted like he knew War was real.
Trailing Russell as he made his way to baggage claim, War’s excitement grew. Having Russell this close to his home brought a smile to War’s face.
“You’re too involved.”
He jumped when Death appeared next to him.
“Shit! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Death chuckled as War took a deep breath.
“All a heart attack would do is inconvenience you. It’s not like you can die or anything.” Death looked over to where Russell was grabbing his duffle bag from the carousel. “I’m not sure having him here is a good idea, War.”
“It’s okay, because he’s not entirely sure whether I’m real or not. I think most of the time he believes I’m a figment of his imagination. Then he has moments when he looks at me and I know he’s positive I exist.” War grinned. “It’s kind of fun to mess with him.”
“Well, that’s not nice. Poor guy’s had a lot of problems with reality lately.” Death gave him a disapproving glare.
War shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m going to follow him to his hotel, then casually meet him in a restaurant. He’ll be shocked, but I’ll convince him I’m real. We’ll have dinner and tomorrow I’m taking him out of Ulanbaatar City to my home.”
“Home? Don’t you mean tent? You’re nomadic, War. You don’t have a house,” Death pointed out.
“Yes, I do. My tent is my house. I tried living in a true house after I’d been a Horseman for a couple of centuries, but it didn’t feel right. I felt closed in and chained down.” War rubbed his arms, hating the claustrophobic feeling even the thought of sleeping inside a building created in him. “The only time I feel remotely normal is when I’m wandering the steppes with my horses and hunting with my bird.”
Death bumped their shoulders together. “I understand. Not everyone feels comfortable in the trappings of civilisation. I couldn’t live like you. Of course, I never lived without my creature comforts, even when I was alive.”
“I have to go.”
War left without acknowledging Death’s goodbye. Russell was climbing into a taxi to head to Ulanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. The airport was outside the city. He didn’t want to lose Russell, though it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find him again.
Be careful, War. Once you engage him for real, there’s no going back for him.
I can’t help it. I’ll try to be careful and not reveal too much, War promised.
You’ve already revealed too much by letting him see you.
Rolling his eyes, War darted through the crowd and climbed into the taxi parked behind Russell’s.
“Will you follow that taxi for me?” he asked the driver, who nodded with a bright grin as War handed him several tögrög.
They travelled towards the city and War chuckled as he settled back on the seat. He removed his hat and scrubbed his hair. He hated wearing hats but the colour of his hair caused him to stand out.
The first time he’d seen his reflection after dying and coming back as the Red Horseman, he’d freaked out. Instead of black, his hair was as blood-red as the horse Death had given him. He’d cut it short, but it curled, so he tended to stand out in any kind of crowd. Not that he lingered with people.
He caused wars and fights between groups and countries, but he rarely got the opportunity to hang out with or even talk to mortals. War realised he missed conversations with someone who would talk back. Singqor was a good hunting companion, but he didn’t have much to say about world events.
The lead taxi pulled in front of the best hotel in Ulanbaatar and Russell climbed out. After jumping out, War slipped into the lobby and settled in a chair while Russell checked in. He didn’t worry about what room Russell was in or anything like that. He’d transport himself there once Russell was settled.
As he sat studying Russell from the corner of his eye, War noticed the tremors shaking Russell’s hands. Frowning, he turned to look at Russell directly. Sweat beaded on Russell’s forehead and his gaze darted from one person to another. Russell shifted from foot to foot like he was setting himself up to run.
War shoved to his feet and moved closer. Russell didn’t even notice him, since Russell’s focus turned inward to something only Russell could see. A flash of red from a lady’s scarf and Russell dropped to the floor.
Russell didn’t make a sound, which made the whole incident scarier. He curled in on himself, scrubbing his hands up and down his arms like he was trying to wipe something off his clothes. Rocking back and forth, Russell didn’t acknowledge anyone around him.
“I’ll take care of him.” War spoke up as a crowd of tourists gathered around Russell.
“Are you sure?” One of the hotel employees asked.
Sliding his hand under Russell’s elbow, War lifted Russell to his feet and nodded. “Yes. Just a second.”
He dug through Russell’s pockets to find his wallet.
“We were checking in. Here’s his passport and credit card. He was just discharged from the army, and I’m afraid he’s having a flashback.”
“Ah.” The young lady at the check-in counter nodded. “I’ll process you through as quickly as possible, sir.”
“Thank you.” War encircled Russell’s waist with his arm, not to stop Russell from what he was doing, but to keep him from falling to the ground again. He pressed his lips to Russell’s ear and whispered, “Just a few more minutes and you’ll be safe.”
He didn’t know if anything he said got through to Russell while the man was in the midst of a flashback, but he couldn’t treat him like he wasn’t there.
“Here you go, sir.” She handed him a key card. “Mr Heinz can sign the papers when he’s feeling better.”
“Thank you.” War grabbed the key and gathered Russell’s bags before hauling Russell to the elevator.
The people who stared were the Western tourists. The native Mongolians kept their eyes turned away, giving Russell his privacy. Another thing War liked about the natives in his adopted country. Privacy was very important to them and they wouldn’t be so rude as to stare or gossip about Russell’s actions, not while Russell was still around to hear them.
The doors opened and War juggled Russell and his bags on to the elevator. After checking the key, he punched the fourth floor button. The doors slid shut and the car began its ascent. War let Russell sink to the floor before crouching next to him. Russell started muttering something, but War wasn’t close enough to hear what Russell said.
Russell must not have taken his meds before he flew out. The stress of dealing with strangers in a foreign country who spoke a language he didn’t understand might have pushed him too far. The doors opened with a ding and War got everything and Russell together, managing to carry all of it to the right room.
He propped Russell against the wall, giving himself a chance to access Russell’s hotel room. After tossing the bags towards the bed, he cupped Russell’s elbow in his hand and led Russell inside. Once the door was shut, he let go and Russell dropped to the floor again. War sat on the edge of the bed, braced his elbows on his knees, and stared at the man curled in a ball at his feet.
“What am I supposed to do with you, Russell?” War spoke softly, not wanting to startle Russell if he was at all conscious of what was going on around him.
“Get me one of my pills.”
War blinked and met Russell’s troubled gaze. “Are they in your bags?”
“The smaller one.” Russell lifted his chin to point at the right one.
“All right.” War unzipped the bag and dug around to find the pill bottles. He found two of them and held them up. “Which one?”
“The larger one. I just need one.”
Russell sounded okay, but War noticed he kept wringing his hands or running them up and down his arms.
“What’s wrong, Russell?”
“I can’t get the blood off. It’s all over my face and clothes.”
War reached out to stop Russell from scrubbing his hands over his face, but paused just before touching him. He didn’t know how to handle a situation like this. He stood and went to the bathroom where he filled a glass with water. Returning, he saw Russell hadn’t moved from where he sat, rocking back and forth on the floor.
“Here you go. This will help, I’m sure.”
Russell held out a trembling hand for War to drop the pill on. War didn’t trust him to be able to hold the glass, so he pressed it against Russell’s lips and helped Russell wash the medicine down.
“I hate taking them,” Russell murmured as he leant back against the bed.
Even though Russell sounded coherent, his hands still rubbed and shook. Those beautiful hazel eyes stared down at them like Russell didn’t know what they were doing, like he had no control over them. Maybe he didn’t.
“Why? It seems to me they help keep you in this world.” War shrugged. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here than fall into the blood-covered images your mind creates for you?”