Aris Returns

by Devin Morgan

  She knew she was dreaming because she would never go to the zoo if she was awake. It pained her to even think of the animals, caged, living a life so different than the one nature had planned for them, as Aris was living a life different than he had planned. The evening sky was the shade of dusty indigo blue. There were just a few solitary stars and the walkway was illuminated with old fashioned, softly lit street lights. A fingernail moon sliced the darkness; a gentle breeze rustled her hair as she walked along.

  Long necked giraffes leaned their throats over the fence to get a better look at her. A baby elephant swayed back and forth in its pen as the huge mother hid in the shadows, preparing to protect her young if need be. She passed the dimly lit lion house. The great roar of the beasts told her of their distress being locked inside. She moved in that floating space that happens only when you are dreaming.

  She passed house after house, each one containing a different species of animal. The last one on the path housed the snakes. Sarah wasn’t afraid of snakes. In fact, she actually enjoyed watching them slither sensuously along the ground and wrap gracefully around trees and branches. She dream walked forward toward the open door.

  Everything appeared in shadow as she stepped inside. She was startled to see a familiar figure on the other side of the huge, cavernous hall. As the man walked slowly toward her, she recognized Carlos. He was wearing dark pants and a short sleeved white tee shirt, his bronze forearms covered in new tattoos.

  As he came closer she saw the tattoos were of snakes, King Cobras. They appeared alive as he moved through the dim light of the room.

  He stopped just in front of her, his black eyes piercing into her very soul. She was drawn to him in a way she had been denying for months. She could no longer resist his magnetic pull.

  He kissed her then, his beautiful mouth tasting sweet. His full lips soft and smooth, caressing hers with each tender touch. His kiss was long, deep. As she felt his warm breath on her face, she melted into him, releasing any hidden doubts. Her dream heart belonged to him.

  He stroked her cheek, her throat. He moved a step away from her gazing lovingly, questioningly into her eyes. Without a pause, she nodded yes. A smile of gratitude and pleasure lit his face. He traced her form with his eyes mesmerized by the gentle curve of her breast, the soft cleavage peeking out of her white cotton blouse.

  He scooped her in his arms. The male scent of him stirred her senses, aroused her. He carried her outside into the soft night air seeking a dark solitary place away from all eyes. Soon he settled down on a round mound of grass under a huge maple tree. Moonlight filtered through the branches, the leaves casting deep shadows on the ground beneath them. Sitting with his back against the tree, he still held her in his arms.

  He moaned in torment as he buried his face in the thick soft curls of her hair. His gentle kisses sweetly showered her face, her throat. As he neared the tender rise of her breast, his breathing changed. It became shorter. More rapid. His pulse raced. Strong bronze hands reached for the buttons on her blouse. In a moment, delicate white lace was all that separated his kiss from her bare skin. She closed her eyes twisting her fingers into his thick black hair, a soft groan escaping her throat.

  The cool night air caressed her fair skin as he slid her blouse down her arms and laid it on the ground beside them. With one hand, he unhooked her bra. She gasped as he kissed her warm pink flesh. As he slid his tongue over the rise of her nipple, the soft sounds she made in her throat were glorious to his ears. Heart racing in her chest, she shivered with desire. She lifted her eyes to watch him. He looked up at her under his dense black lashes. He opened his lips in a slow, languid smile. His fangs were longer and sharper than any of the living snakes now coiled around his arms. As he moved toward her throat, she screamed.

  The shrill sound of her own terror woke her. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bolting upright. She reached to turn on the light. Fighting to catch her breath, she looked out at the night sky. All the lights in all the windows in all the buildings had gone out. Everyone was asleep. She faced the coming dawn alone.

  #

  “It was just a stupid dream.” Her thoughts were careening through her mind as she brushed her teeth. “Just a stupid dream.” She rinsed her mouth with water, shut off the bathroom light and walked to the kitchen.

  She checked the kitchen clock. She had an hour before she was to meet Colleen at the museum. True to her Sunday ritual, she wore jeans, a tee shirt and sandals, no makeup and damp, curly hair. It was warm, but there were clouds and the weather person predicted a steady drizzle. Her rainslicker hung on a hook on the inside of the hall closet door. She reached in to grab it. She tied it around her waist, picked up her bag and made her way to the elevator.

  Waving at the doorman, she pushed open the door, stepping into the quiet of a Sunday morning. She left her car in the garage. Parking on Sunday downtown was impossible. A bright yellow cab turned the corner. Lifting her arm, she waved the driver down.

  Climbing into the back seat, she leaned forward and spoke. “The Art Institute.”

  “Right,” was the reply made in a deep voice with an exotic accent. “Art Institute.”

  The rest of the ride was silent for which Sarah was grateful. She had just about convinced herself that all of her terror of the previous night was connected to the anchovy pizza she ate just before bed. Maybe Colleen was right. Maybe anchovies were something to be eaten only before five o’clock. She smiled at herself just as the cab pulled in front of the museum. The two huge stone lions on the front steps reminded her of the dream once again. She held back a shiver.

  She paid the driver and just as she stepped from the cab she heard her name called in a bright, female voice. Turning, she saw Colleen come down the steps toward her. Sarah couldn’t believe what she saw. Colleen had Carlos in tow.

  “Just what I need,” she thought, “after the dream I just had.” She waved as they approached.

  “I hope it’s okay Sarah. Carlos has never been to an art museum. When he called in this morning and I told him our plans for the day, he asked if he could come along.” Colleen smiled. She looked very excited to be giving Carlos a day of culture. “I told him I was sure you’d be glad to have him.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes at thin air, controlling her true feelings. After a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “Sure great. Let’s go inside.”

  They climbed the steps, walking inside the marble reception area. “Admission is on me.” Colleen got in the line where tickets were sold as Carlos and Sarah waited near a huge marble pillar.

  He slid his hand across the smooth, cool surface, looking directly at her. “I hope you really mean that. I honestly haven’t ever been to an art museum. I can’t think of anyone better than you and Colleen to be my guides.” He tilted his head and his little boy grin won her over, reminding her he really didn’t have fangs.

  “Okay. But if you want to leave before we’re ready, you’re on your own.”

  “You can be a hard case, Sarah.” He shook his head in mock disbelief.

  “I have the admission taken care of. Now, where do you two want to go first?” Colleen stepped between them, taking each one by the arm.

  The trio spent the better part of the day moving from gallery to gallery. Carlos marveled at the paintings and sculptures, but even more at the structure of the building.

  “I’ve never been inside anything like this before but even so, there’s something about it that is so familiar.” They were standing at the top of the stairs looking out over the open second floor gallery. “Why don’t you two go on. I want to hang out here for a while.” The space was open and bright, works of art lining the inner walls.

  “Sure, we’ll just look at the things on this balcony. Then we can all go into the outer galleries before the museum closes.” Colleen grabbed Sarah by the arm, leading her away from Carlos.

  “I could see you were pissed at first. Thanks so much, Sarah, for not letting him know.” They stopped in fr
ont of a statue of a Greek warrior. It had a perfect face, very similar to their companion. “I want him to go to school.” She shrugged. “I think he’s interested.”

  “School?” Sarah’s voice was questioning. “He’s no kid. What kind of school?”

  “That’s the thing. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t been exposed to very much outside his own culture.”

  “Colleen, why do you have such an interest in this guy? You’re married now.”

  Colleen swatted Sarah on the arm. “It isn’t that. He reminds me of me. And right now, being able to help him, I remind me of Bob. If he hadn’t pulled me out of the gutter, who knows where I’d be right now.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m just paying it forward.”

  They moved along the upper gallery. “What about you, Sarah? Why are you so interested?” She smiled a sly grin, gently nudging her friend with her elbow. “You aren’t married.”

  “Leave it. I’m interested because he’s an incredible subject for regression. Has he told you anything about it?”

  “No, and neither have you. I’d sure like to know what goes on in those sessions. I’ve seen a big change in him.”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She laughed. “You know its client/therapist information. He’s the only one who can tell you anything.” Sarah sighed to herself, glad the crazy tale hadn’t become a part of his permanent parole record.

  “And besides, I’m way too old for him.” The words slipped out before she could reel them back.

  Colleen stopped in her tracks. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” Sarah kept on walking.

  Her friend reached for her arm, spinning her around to look her in the eye. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m here to tell you it isn’t like you’re a woman who’s too old for anything.”

  “Yeah, well we’re client and therapist. Nothing more.” Sarah noticed they paused just in front of a marble statue of Cupid. She looked the other way, quickly moving on.

  #

  “That museum was something else. I can see why people like to go there again and again.” He slouched in the chair across from her desk. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I could see you didn’t want me there, but I’m really grateful.”

  The door to the office opened as Maggie poked her head into the room. “I’m out of here. Tommy’s taking me to a play tonight. There’s a little theatre in Old Town doing the original ‘Dracula” and I’ve never seen it.” She waved. “Later.” She closed the door behind her.

  “I guess we just can’t get away from it, can we?” His words formed a question but his voice was a statement. “Do you want to knock me out now?”

  She hesitated. “How about we just do talk therapy today?”

  “No man, I want to do the regression. I want to know what the hell happens. This is better than any movie I’ve ever seen and it’s all right here,” he pointed to his temple. “In my head.”

  He stood, “Come on, knock me out and here comes Aris.” Laughing, he moved to the recliner, flopping down with a deep sigh. “Come on Sarah. Don’t stand in the way of my progress.”

  #

  CARLOS HAVARRO, transcript, session 11, May 7

  The King honored my prowess and Lady Anne gave me her favor. I was invited that night to a royal dinner. As I dressed for the occasion I wondered at the true miracle of my being honored in two different royal courts. In spite of what I was, I enjoyed being a royal favorite once again.

  It was a feast that only King Henry could provide. Meats, more fish than Neptune himself had in the sea, fowl dressed in every way. And puddings. And sauces. Again, beautiful women with low gowns and long necks tempting me from every side.

  I swallowed the disgusting human food that was as sawdust in my mouth, all the while pretending to relish every bite. I drank the bitter wine, smiling in false gratitude at the King. Before much time had passed, he leaned to speak to the Lady Anne. She glanced at me before she nodded her approval.

  I saw him raise his hand beckoning me. I rose and crossed the room to bow before him. He motioned me to rise. He told me I was to join him for tennis the following morning. I thanked his majesty and backed away from him wondering just what tennis might be.

  A constant maid brought ale and lit my fire every morning. I waited in the chair by the fireplace for her to shuffle noiselessly into my room at dawn. As she bent to light the logs, I asked what she knew about the King and the sport of tennis. My question was a game of chance and I was the winner. She sat on the stool at the foot of my bed and told me all. She was a follower of sport and loved to sneak into the rafters to watch the game. She and some of her fellow servitors would meet there and wager on the outcome. She said she was often the winner.

  She explained the rules and told of Henry’s weak and strong abilities. As I listened with my vampire mind, I knew I could beat him at his own game. I had nothing to lose by playing with him and everything to gain. I smiled at the chance to match the King.

  I was first on the court in the morning, waiting for the rest of the players to arrive. Soon the King came into sight surrounded by his gentlemen of the court. There were no royal trumpets and no fanfare, simply a group of men delighted to share in active sport came tumbling into the arena.

  With my vampire eyes, I watched them play the early games. I knew I would be the finest in the match and once again gain the recognition of the King. I had enjoyed the safety of the favor of the Spanish emperor and I would relish the favor of this British King. A man among men, he would only respect one who was equally as quick as he, yet no quicker. He was proud and would not take to being beaten. With my supernatural skill, I could match his every move until he would call our match a draw. As a man among men, I knew this to be fact. Lady Anne waved her favor to me as I stepped onto the court. My bow was low and flawless and I saw her smile at me as I rose.

  The King hit the ball and a fast and furious match was on. Henry roared with laughter and anger. He played with the power and vigor of a much younger man. As I raced back and forth I wondered at the number of games the King must have played on this court in Windsor Castle. Even at his large size, he was a formidable opponent. The match would have been much more difficult to draw had he been younger and leaner even for my supernatural self. I was glad he was not.

  At last, dripping with sweat and out of breath, Henry called a draw and came toward the net with a deep laugh, holding out his arms to embrace me. “A fine contest, my Spanish friend.”

  My bow was sincere, “I am with the Spanish envoy, however, I am not Spanish your Grace.” I knew where his loyalties were rooted, in England and away from the Pope.

  His coppery eyebrows raised in question. “Not Spanish?” He wiped his brow with a white towel handed him by one of his gentlemen.

  “I am from a very old and distant land, your Majesty.” Again, I bowed as I spoke.

  “I will hear more of this land. Walk with me.” He handed the towel back to his man as we turned to leave the court followed by his inner circle of friends.

  Walking through the gardens, we enjoyed the warm air of mid-day. He questioned me on my country, my heritage. I told wild and improbable stories that he believed to the fullest. As a man among men, he believed all difficulties could be overcome and he respected those who overcame them. In my stories, I was such a man. Again, I was invited to dine with the court and again I attended. Soon, I was assigned a permanent place in the court and enjoyed the King’s favor.

  “Sarah, do you grow tired of my stories?”

  Startled back into real time, Sarah swallowed, then answered, “That’s hardly the word for how I feel about your stories. They fascinate me.”

  “I am happy to be fascinating to such a charming woman as you.” His flirtatious tone and attitude surprised Sarah and she smiled despite herself.

  “Let’s go back to Tudor England, shall we?” With a determined tone, she regained control of the conversation. “When did you hear again from Rich
ard and Gabriela?”

  Richard and Gabriela found me one dark night in the garden. I finished drinking and was making my way back to my rooms when they stepped from behind a hedge. Gabriela came forward to embrace me while Richard stood behind her. She was glad to tell me they spoke to the council and the oldest ones of all agreed to meet with me. I was to be shown to the council sanctuary below the city in the Catacombs. I was to meet the wisest of my kind. I felt exaltation at finding I would learn what I was capable of at last.

  “You see, Sarah, it keeps coming back to that, doesn’t it? Finding one’s own kind. Finding one’s mate.”

  “Aris, I can only imagine how it must have felt to you. My logical mind can’t begin to comprehend what it must have been like to have thought you were the only one of your kind on earth. The isolation.” She looked at the floor for a moment to compose her thoughts, and then back at her subject. “So, you met the oldest ones?”

  “That, dear Sarah, is for a future conversation. Our Carlos grows restless. I will leave you now until next time.”

  Sarah was always amazed by the change in the expression on the face of her subject when Carlos again took control of his subconscious. A different man and a different time. Which was the one who called to her? She stared at his face for a few moments before counting him into real time once again. “Which is real time?” She wondered, “And to whom?”

  #

  Carlos leaned back in the recliner, rubbing his eyes. “It just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it? I’m glad you’re recording this whole thing. We can write a book and split the profits.” He laughed as he sat up.

  “If you’re not in too much of a hurry today, I’d like to talk a little more about your family.”

  His spine stiffened as he stood, turning his back to her. “You know I don’t like to do that.”

  “I understand but I need more information about this incarnation before I can tie anything to it from the regressions.”

  After a moment, he faced her. “Okay.” He moved a wingback chair close to her. He sat, facing her. “You win. Shoot.”