Aris Returns

by Devin Morgan

  “Enough, Sarah. Enough for today.”

  Sarah sat quietly, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  #

  “Sometimes I feel as if I don’t have a body at all, as if I don’t even exist. And sometimes I feel so different, alive in a way that I’ve never experienced before.” He sipped the water she brought to him. “Does that make any sense?”

  “Yes, it does.” She gazed at the carpet for more than a moment then looked up at his face. “When Aris speaks through you, it’s as if you‘ve stepped aside to let him through.”

  “’Stepped aside?’” He nodded, “Yeah, that’s what it feels like. Like there isn’t any more of me, only him. It’s weird and scary and, for some strange reason I really like it sometimes.”

  “Like it sometimes?”

  “Yeah, like I’m so much more than I have ever been or ever thought I could be.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Is this guy real or am I just making him up, some kind of horror story hero in my head?”

  “I don’t know if he’s real or not but your deepest mind is telling us quite a story.” She stood and looked out her window in silence.

  “Sarah,” He moved to stand next to her, then took her shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him. “Sarah, I know this scares you sometimes. I know sometimes you want to stop.” He released her, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. “Hell, sometimes I want to stop. But right now, I don’t. This is the first time in my life I felt any kind of curiosity since I was a kid. I want to know what he is, if he really is some vampire from a past age or just a deeper part of me. I need to know.

  “And I’m starting to understand the uncontrollable anger that grips me sometimes. I don’t know if it’s because I lost a love five hundred years ago or not but if the vamp can overcome his rage, so can I. I don’t do drugs anymore and I don’t want to lose it because I’m pissed off. I want to own my life.”

  “Of course we’ll keep going. I think you’re right about the anger. But you have to tell me if you ever feel it’s getting out of hand. I’ve always been honest with you Carlos, I’m just along for the ride the same as you are. I have no more control over Aris than you do. And I’m not sure I like that.”

  He grinned. “Well, I’m glad to see you out of control over something.” He pecked her cheek with a quick kiss, then turned on his heel.

  As he walked to the door, he looked over his shoulder and winked, “See you next Friday.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sarah’s mother held the blue silk dress just in front of her daughter. “This color is wonderful with your eyes.”

  Sarah looked skeptical as she pulled it over her head, “I know you like blue, Mother, but I think it’s a little low cut for a maid of honor.”

  “Honey, it really compliments your figure. Don’t you want to be stunning?”

  “Mother,” Sarah let her exasperation show in her voice, “the only one who needs to be stunning at the wedding is the bride.”

  “Are you taking Steve?”

  “I haven’t seen Steve in quite a while.” She challenged her mother’s response with the tone of her voice. “Our free time just didn’t coincide.”

  “I don’t understand why you have such difficulty with men, dear. You’re such a pretty girl. Your grandmother and I would so like to see you settled in a comfortable marriage. You proved yourself as a career woman with your book. When will you ever be ready to settle down?”

  Sarah turned to face the older woman, a determined look on her face. “Mother, I’m not trying to prove anything with my career. Why can’t you just accept my work is a part of who I am?”

  Mrs. Hagan’s eyes grew large in surprise. “Why Sarah, I don’t understand your attitude. I’m only thinking about what is best for you.”

  “No Mother, you are thinking about what is best for you. It’s time you recognized that I am not just a clone of you. Marriage is great but I’m not ready to settle for a second rate relationship just to make you happy. I’ve done that before and I won’t do it again.” She pivoted to face the mirror once more pleased with herself to be finally taking a stand with her mother.

  Smoothing her skirt as she stood, the older woman took a tentative step toward her daughter. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Sarah. I only want the best for you. Let’s just focus on choosing a dress for the wedding.”

  Sarah smiled, grateful her mother didn’t push the conversation as she usually would have done, proud that she had spoken up at long last. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea.”

  “Do you want to buy your shoes today while we’re already out shopping?”

  #

  “Miss Hagan, I’m sorry to bother you. Carlos Havarro’s down here to see you.” His voice grew soft as he covered the receiver with his hand. “And he’s a mess, Miss. His face is bloody. It looks like he’s broken his hand.”

  “What?”

  “I told him you didn’t leave his name at the desk but I’ve seen him with you before and he looks like he really needs some help. What should I do?”

  “Send him up. It’s fine.” As she stepped to the living room window to draw the sheer cream colored curtains, she thought, “What now?”

  She placed the tea pot on the stove when she heard a soft, tentative knock on her door. She opened it, gasping when she saw him.

  “What happened to you?” She took his arm, helping him maneuver to the couch. He was battered and blood oozed from a wound on his head. He held his hand to his forehead to stop the bleeding.

  Moving his hand to look at his battered face, she winced. “Sit here and I’ll get something to clean your face. What in the world happened to you?” She spoke as she lifted his chin to survey the damage.

  “I tried to talk to Manu about the scare tactics. Obviously, it didn’t work.” As he wiped his arm across his forehead to clean the blood, he opened the wound even further. “I told him about you and what you’ve done for me, how my life is different now. He wouldn’t listen so I talked louder. I guess the rest of his pals didn’t like my tone of voice or something because before I knew it, I was on the bottom of a pile of punching fists and kicking feet. I’m sorry I came here but I couldn’t go to the half-way house like this. They would have to report it.” His eye was swelling as he looked up at her. “Can I have some water?”

  Embarrassed that he needed to ask, she answered him as she stood, “I’m sorry. Just put your feet up on the couch and lie down. I’ll get some bandages.” Turning to leave the room, she added, “And for God’s sake, don’t get up, just rest until I get back.”

  Sarah turned off the boiling tea pot. She dampened a clean cloth to wipe his face. The wound in his head was smaller than she first thought. She remembered she read somewhere that head wounds bled more than other places and she was glad it wasn’t a deep gash. She put a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel on his blackening eye then looked at his right hand. “Can you move your fingers?”

  He winced as he wiggled first one then another. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s broken although I can’t say the same thing about Manu’s nose.” He smiled through the bruises that were beginning to appear on his face.

  “Carlos, this is it. Enough. It’s time we told someone about this. I don’t want you to be hurt anymore.”

  “This is nothing. Don’t worry.” She cleaned his split knuckles then wrapped a second package of frozen peas in a towel and bound it to his hand. “That feels kind a good.” He laid his head back on the cushion.

  “Why don’t you just stay here tonight?” She reached to help him stand. “You can sleep in the guest room.”

  “No.” He raised his hand to stop her. ”I’d like to stay, but I’ll just crash out here on the couch.” There was gratitude in his words. “Would you mind? Just throw a blanket over me and I’ll be out in a minute. I’m feeling kind a dead right now.”

  She picked up the throw from the arm of the sofa. She covered him then took the towel wrapped peas. “Okay, just sleep right now. We’ll talk about it i
n the morning.” Turning off the light, she looked at him one last time. She went into her bedroom shutting the door behind her. She drifted to sleep, her last thoughts confused and a bit frightened.

  #

  She felt the dreamtime weightlessness so she knew she was in a sleep-induced fantasy. The musicians played a lively tune as the courtiers prepared to dance. They faced one another creating two long ribbons made of the lush colored satins and silks they wore. Their jewels sparkled in the light of what seemed to be thousands of candles. They were all so beautiful, dressed for the Royal Masque in the spring court of England. They all wore disguises, false faces. Ornate and colorful, each courtier’s mask representing a different animal or bird.

  An owl face bedecked with pristine white feathers and a beak of burnished gold plate sat above the strong body of a man dressed in finest white satin. The short cape slung about his powerful shoulders was made of cloth of gold and glimmered in the candlelight as he led his lady through the steps of a lively galliard. His partner sported the face of a tricky red fox. Her gown of russet silk shimmered as they danced; the deep rust-colored velvet stomacher was rich with embroidered golden wheat shafts. Her brown eyes shown as he lifted her high, spinning in a tight slow circle.

  Sarah stood, waiting as the musicians changed the tempo to a slow pavane. A tall man stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the dancers. His rich velvet clothing was colored in shades of gray, embellished richly with diamonds and silver. His hair was black and wild. His human face hid behind the face of a savage wolf, its canines exposed and sharp. Golden eyes peeked from the narrow slits on either side of the nose.

  He reached for her hand and led her in a courtly manner. Dance after dance, he kept her with him. He whirled and spun her. Again and again, his strong arms lifted her high until she was taller than he then gently lowered her until her feet touched the floor once again. The bodice of her petal pink gown was laced so tightly she became short of breath. Still, they continued. At last, when she was spent and out of breath completely, he took her hand to lead her from the palace into the rose garden. The fragrance of the sweet flowers filled the warm night air, their colors clearly visible in the light of a full summer moon. His eyes were alive with anticipation. His arm slid around her waist as he guided her into the green bowers of a lover’s maze. It was familiar. She had been in this place before. They turned corner after corner, disappearing deeper into the heart of the living puzzle.

  The sound of splashing water reached their ears just as they entered an intimate, sweet smelling rose garden. In the center loomed an enormous fountain. It dwarfed the surrounding greenery and the spray bounced like tiny, living balls of light in the brilliance of the moon. He untied his mask yet his face was still in shadow and she could not see his features.

  He grasped her waist to turn her toward him. His hands were familiar. She was sure she had felt them before this night. Gently, he drew her to him. She went willingly, joyfully. They came together and the touch of his lips thrilled her. He gathered her into his arms and the kisses he trailed along her jaw were as soft as the wings of a butterfly. He kissed her brows, her eyelids. His tongue brushed her eyelashes then trailed to outline her small perfect ears. His scent enveloped her and she could no longer catch her breath. Her heart embraced the sweet madness of the moment. He kissed her deeply. Her tongue toyed with the soft tuft of hair beneath his lower lip. He moaned as she pressed herself into him. She could feel him, firm and sweet, through the thick layers of her silk gown.

  Her trembling fingers slid his doublet down over his sturdy shoulders then lifted his exquisitely made cambric shirt over his head. Her breath caught as she gazed at his sculpted, muscular body. He turned her away from him to loosen the tightly drawn lacing that imprisoned her breasts within her stiff bodice. He removed it then turned her to face him once more. He divested her of her kirtle and her puffed, padded sleeves. She stood before him in nothing but her chemise and petticoats. Reaching for the ribbons at the neck of her shift, he pulled them loose. Slowly, sensually, he slipped it over her head to pile it in a froth of silk and lace at her feet. He peeled away her petticoats and undergarments. Her nude form glowed like living marble in the brightness of the moonlight.

  He stripped his boots and hose. His perfect body glistened like the finest bronze as he stood, ready to take her. He was a magnificent man. Arousal coursed through her veins as he lifted her soft curves into the warm water of the fountain. He raised his hand to gently touch her hair. He bent her head back and tenderly kissed the pulsing vein in her throat, his breath warm against her burning skin. His hands caressed her firm, full breasts. Her heart pounded in her chest, desire flaming out of control deep within her secret place. She was in torture. She was in bliss.

  When she could bear her need no longer, she entwined her arms about his neck and lifted herself to wrap her legs around his perfect middle. He leaned over her cradling her in his own chiseled arms, sheltering her from the inquisitive eyes of the man in the moon. She wanted to weep, to cry out in uninhibited abandon as he swept her away on waves of endless bliss. The water swirled about them and when they were spent, he held her close, thigh to thigh and heart to loving heart as he softly whispered an ancient poem of love.

  The bird song alarm next to Sarah’s bed told her it was morning in real time. She slowly opened her eyes then reached to turn it off. She sighed as she drew her knees close to her stomach and wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. Her dreams had never been more lucid, more real, more thrilling. She wished she could go back to sleep to see what might happen next but she knew she had a guest sleeping on her couch. She wanted to make coffee and feed him breakfast before he left.

  She splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth then her hair and put on some old gray sweats and a thick soft cotton tee shirt before she went to wake Carlos.

  When she walked into the living room, he had once again flown the coup leaving her with an empty feeling inside and a sincere wish that he had waited to see her.

  #

  It had been two weeks since Carlos showed up on her doorstep battered and beaten. In their last session she tried to talk sense into him but he refused to turn to anyone for help. It escalated into an argument. He had stormed from her office. It was Friday again and she wondered if he would even show up. She called the half-way house every day leaving messages for him, but he never answered her calls and his voice mail on his cell phone was full.

  She paced the floor and vowed she wouldn’t mention the gang again. As his therapist she was bound to silence unless he was willing. She didn’t want to push him away with any demands to bring police into it.

  Her phone buzzed. Maggie’s voice was almost a whisper. “He’s here. Should I send him in?”

  “Yes.” She sat behind the desk, waiting impatiently. The door opened and a bouquet of flowers appeared before she saw his face. He grinned as he walked into the room.

  “Peace?”

  “Peace.” She smiled, stood and crossed the room to give him a welcoming hug. His eye was almost healed and there was only a small scab on his forehead. His hand was still bandaged, but he was able to use it as he placed the flowers on her desk.

  “Sorry about my temper. You’re the last person in the world I should get mad at. I know you’re trying to help me.” He glanced at the rug then back at her. “Maybe I need a few more anger management suggestions while I’m in hypno, right?”

  She sighed, “Right.” Keeping her promise to herself not to bring up Manu, she took his arm to guide him to the recliner. “So I guess we might as well get started.”

  “Yeah.” Lying down, he closed his eyes. “Let’s get started.”

  She settled into her chair and began the induction to take him into hypnosis.

  #

  CARLOS HAVARRO, transcript, Session 14, June 11

  It was late when she summoned me to her rooms. Smeaton, her lute player, sat in a far corner playing a sweet tune for a few of the ladies who lingered.
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  “Come with me.” She led me to an alcove where our conversation would be private.

  “Aris, you served me well in the matter of my brother. Are you ready now for a more dangerous intrigue?” She spoke softly and her black eyes danced malevolently.

  “I do not fear danger, my lady.”

  “Good man.” Then in a whisper, “How do you feel then, about murder, Aris?”

  “Murder, my lady?”

  “Yes. Murder of an old, degenerate despicable dog.”

  “Of which dog do you speak?”

  She moved closer to me. I had to watch her mouth as she spoke; her words were too soft for even my vampire hearing.

  “The King’s banished dog, Wolsey.”

  “I am your man.” I was unable to believe her request. I had fought my desire to murder the cardinal from the moment I found he sent Elizabeth to her death. When the King banished him to the north, I even began the trip to York to do away with the cad. My friends in the Catacombs reminded me of the vampire law about killing humans and my mortal friend, Thomas Wyatt, stayed my hand and kept me at court.

  Yet here was the answer to my deepest desire requested of me from the second most important person in the court, second only to the King. I took it as an omen. A blessing. I would rid the Kingdom of the stench of Wolsey. And I would do it as a vampire, no human poison for him. Venom and hate would be the implement of his death.

  When I set out, the road to York was wet and muddy. The thick, gray fog hung heavy all around me and I walked my horse so it wouldn’t tire too quickly. I hoped to find an inn soon to get out of the damp, miserable weather and I was beginning to feel hunger. London was the last place I fed.

  Suddenly there was a clearing in the mist. A thatched building rose next to the road. ‘The King’s Hart.’ That sounded as good as any and at least I knew it would be dry. I rode to the stable behind the inn where there was a dirty little child acting as stable boy. His hands were raw with chilblains and his nose was running. He had no shoes and his feet were wrapped in rags. He shivered in the cold yet he smiled at me, the well-dressed visitor.