MisStaked

by J. Morgan

  "Cross my heart."

  "Back when I first learned to talk, I had a heart-to-heart with ol’ R.J. one night. The big guy was more than a little inebriated, which is a rare occasion in itself, but Breathred had just set fire to the toilet so he had a good reason for tickling the bottom of the bottle. Anyway, since he thought I was a figment of his imagination, R.J. opened up. He said Breathred had once been in college—graduated even. Anyway, the guy's a genius, if you can believe that. His I.Q. is so high the goofball makes Einstein look like a dummy. I think it explains how he could make the spell work that made me talk. When R.J. opened up, I just figured Breathred was eccentric. You know, like mad-scientist crazy,” Stud paused. “But it wasn't the whole story, not by far."

  "So, what are you saying? That Breathred is just so smart he makes his own rules and living in his father's basement is part of those rules?"

  "No, something happened when Breathred was away. Something bad,” Stud said, glumly. “R.J. said when Breathred came back home, he was different. Still goofy, but something had changed. He wasn't all there, if you know what I mean."

  "So, what happened?"

  "R.J. didn't know and Breathred wouldn't talk about it. I tried to find out about it, like you want to, but I couldn't find anything. I even asked Breathred, but he just clammed up. So, I wouldn't suggest bringing it up. Whatever happened to him was bad enough he tries not to think about it. I don't even think he can. It's like he's blocked it from his mind. This is as close as he's got, and it's scaring him. I see it in his eyes. He's afraid it's going to happen again and this time he won't come back from it.” Stud stopped talking and put his head between his legs.

  Luna sat for a moment letting Stud's words sink in. This explained so much. She had seen the pained look in Breathred's eyes, but had dismissed it as nothing. She had even felt the fear in him through the talisman, but just explained it away. Now, Luna couldn't ignore the signs. If she couldn't ask him about it, what was to do?

  Another thing bothering her was that Truehart was involved in this somehow. The other day out on the trail, the Englishman had said as much. At the mention of his brother, Breathred had gone all weird. Did the connection between the two have something to do with what happened to Breathred? Well one thing was for sure, she wasn't about to ask Truehart about it. The guy gave her the creeps. Which meant she was right back where she started.

  A light snow began to fall. She turned her face up into the swirling glitter. The flakes felt good on her face. The bits of ice turned to tiny rivers on her warm flesh, but washed away none of the worry that filled her.

  "Stud, I'm afraid for him. Something else is going on here and it has nothing to do with vampires or archeology. Truehart's mixed up in it somehow. I don't think it's a coincidence he and that woman are here. Two people who know Breathred from his past don't just pop up out of nowhere. What if someone's trying to get him to crack, or worse—what if they want him dead?” She could barely get the words out through the tears that swelled in her throat.

  "We stop them,” Stud said, defiantly.

  "Damn, straight we do."

  She accepted his hand as he helped her down from the boulder. Luna was grateful for the silence as they walked back to camp. The conversation had frightened her, and could tell it had Stud, too. Luna found herself seeing conspiracies behind every bush and tree. One thing was certain, she wasn't alone in this. They both were resolved in their need to protect Breathred.

  Luna let out a sigh of relief on seeing him safe and sound, sitting by the fire with Dr. Grayson, pouring over the translation from the door. She was just glad to see the Easily tramp had the good sense to sit in front of her tent instead of near Breathred. The woman didn't have enough hair left to lose if she made that mistake again.

  Entering the camp, Breathred looked up and saw them. He waved them over with a goofy grin on his face. Stud put his hand on hers before they reached him to remind her to keep quiet about their conversation. She nodded, but didn't like being reprimanded. The fruit should know by now she could keep a secret. She hadn't told anybody about his failed bikini wax, had she?

  They sat down. “Where've you guys been?” Breathred asked.

  "We went for a walk. The camp was starting to close in on us."

  "Well, while you guys were out fooling around, we solved the riddle of the translation."

  "We still aren't sure, but it does look like a promising hypothesis,” Dr. Grayson added.

  "Well, spill it. I ain't sitting in the snow to play thirty questions,” Stud grumbled, as the snow quickened.

  "If we base our question on Babylonian customs, it follows that the answer must fall to their way of thinking. So, we believe, to open the door you must be a virgin who is pure in spirit, but the warrior bit is throwing us. We still don't know how that fits into it,” Breathred explained.

  "What if it's like the Knights Templar? You know how they were supposed to be God's chosen warriors. It could be something similar,” Luna offered, failing to notice the grimace that covered Breathred's face at her mention of the Knights.

  "She could be right. Many ancient cultures had warrior priests, who were dedicated to the gods and served as their holy arms of retribution,” Dr. Grayson said. Luna could see the woman was excited by the new input.

  "But, where in the hell are we supposed to find a virgin warrior who fights for the powers of good?” Stud countered.

  As soon as it was out of his mouth, every eye turned toward Breathred.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Thirty Five

  Be assured of one very important fact, they're out for blood and you're on the menu.

  "Wait a minute!” Breathred jumped to his feet. “Why am I automatically picked to be the guinea pig here?"

  "Because you fit the bill, Buddy-ro,” Stud smirked.

  The chimp had him there.

  "But it doesn't mean I know what to do,” Breathred said in his defense. Let them try to tell him different.

  "I think I know how,” Dr. Grayson piped up.

  Darn it. How did he know she was going to say that?

  "See this part of the translation.” She laid the paper out in front of them. “It talks of being pure in spirit and blood. I think it means the door is a test. I know it's crazy, but I think it means you have to put your blood on the door."

  "Lady, you're nuts. You're telling us the door is a vampire too,” Stud snorted.

  "No, she could be right. We've already established this isn't your normal dig. It wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to say the door is an ancient sensor that can detect goodness and evil. We're dealing with vampires. If we can accept the fact vampires exist, anything's possible,” Luna said, giving Stud a shut-up-or-else look.

  "Breathred, are you willing to test this theory out?” Dr. Grayson asked. Her tone said please in a very big way.

  "If you think it'll work, okay,” he answered after a few minutes of thought. Breathred wasn't all too convinced, but he wasn't about to let them down just because he was a little squeamish.

  "Breathy, you don't have to do this, if you don't want to,” Luna told him. “I've got a bad feeling about this. Something in my gut says this isn't a good idea."

  "It'll be all right. It's just a little blood. What could happen?” Breathred reassured her, not really believing it himself.

  "Then it's settled. First thing tomorrow, we give it a try,” Dr. Grayson said, clasping her hands together. “Now let's get a good night's sleep and pray for success."

  * * * *

  Breathred tossed and turned in his sleep. Even in his exhausted state of mind he knew the dreams were back. It had been a long time, yet recognized the smoky vision. A part of him even welcomed it—thirsted for it. It was more than a dream. He knew subconsciously for what it was, a memory of shades and shadows bathed in light.

  The darkness swelled over him, as the door in his dream closed like a setting sun. Someone was in the darkness with him. The sound of whimpering ca
me from the shadows to let him know the dream hadn't changed. He tried to ignore the sobs, but he couldn't. The sound filled the darkness. In the void it was the only sensory input left to him.

  The blackness was total. The presence of his own hand in front of him was no longer a given. His hands fumbled over his body to reassure himself he was indeed still real, and not a figment of the dream. It wasn't enough.

  He needed to breathe. Breathred choked as he dragged in his first mouthful. The air was stale and lifeless. He panicked, scrambling to cleanse his lungs of the graveyard taste that filled them. Tears ran down his face as he strained to keep himself from going over the edge. In the back of his mind he saw the dead air as something cloistering him, as sure as the darkness itself was doing.

  Breathred knew it was a dream, yet struggled to force himself to move, but couldn't. The dream wouldn't let him go. Fear rooted him in place. To escape he had to allow it to flow until it ended. Knowing this truth from old, he waited. The darkness would soon lift. It always did, because the never-more thing wouldn't come until the void was ripe for its rebirth.

  Then it came. Light exploded around him. Breathred felt the light burning his skin, but refused to open his eyes. If he kept them closed, he wouldn't see it. Behind him the whimpering faded to nothing, only to be replaced by a maddening scream that shook his resolve. He almost broke and let his eyes flicker open. The screaming ended. The silence stopped him. It was his turn to suffer. There was no way he wanted to see the things to come

  His skin tingled in expectation. The shadow thing was coming. Cold breath sang across the back of his neck, harkening its arrival. Breathred felt his own breath catch in his throat. It wasn't from fear. It was something more.

  The frigid air that came from the thing's mouth rolled over his ears and came to a stop on his face. Then his eyes did open. When they did, Breathred did scream.

  "I choose you. You will be my avatar, my redemption,” a voice whispered in his mind.

  A hundred lifetimes later, in the middle of the night, Breathred came awake, sweat covering his chilled flesh. His sleeping bag slithered down his bare chest and pooled around his paunchy waist. He groped aimlessly in the pale moonlight that filtered through the translucent tent for the comfort of anything real. Touching the quilted bag, Breathred at last knew he was awake. He caressed the silky fabric, afraid it would turn to smoke and vanish from around him.

  Breathred unzipped the sleeping bag the rest of the way. Goose bumps ran up his legs in spite of the thermal undies he wore. He rummaged at the foot of his cot for his pants and shirt. His jacket was curled up under his pillow to keep it warm and toasty. Breathred silently wished he'd done the same with the rest of his clothes. Making sure Stud was still asleep, Breathred threw on his clothes.

  After the dream, the tent was just too confining. He needed the fresh air. Doing his best not to make a peep Breathred tiptoed past the snoring chimpanzee. He slipped from the tent without so much as causing Stud to turn in his sleep, grateful for the small favor. His head still ached from the nightmare. The last thing he needed was for Stud to turn it into a full-fledged migraine. There would be enough of that tomorrow.

  As clear as the dream had been, his waking had diminished it to nothing more than flashing images. It was always like that. Breathred was missing something. It lurked in the edges of his consciousness, beyond his grasp. As much as Breathred wanted to know what it was, he was afraid—afraid to know the truth. Over the past ten years he had done a pretty good job of avoiding the truth and was quite proud of the fact.

  Now, it wasn't so simple. The past few days had made him realize he wasn't in total control of himself. If he ever had been. The thing at the mall had cemented the idea in his gut. At the time Breathred could have sworn there was a voice in his head telling him what to do. Thinking back, he saw the lunacy in thinking along those lines, but then it had been so real.

  The thing that troubled him the most was he knew what was going on. He just couldn't dredge the reason from his brain. It was like something was blocking him from opening the page in his mind. Breathred could trace the feeling all the way back to the tomb at the Shrine of the Seven Veils. It was right after that he first noticed the change in himself. The doctors told him it was a normal reaction to what had happened. But, what had happened? The whole thing was a blank spot. The doctors also said memory loss was to be expected. The trauma would eventually pass and the memories would return. The last doctor visit was ten years ago and still nothing.

  "We can't seem to stop meeting like this. Can we Petrifunck?"

  Breathred snapped around to see Brogan leaning against a tree, smoking a cigar. Just great. Didn't this guy ever sleep?

  "Brogan, I thought everybody was asleep,” Breathred grunted, not really feeling sociable and hoping the man would take the hint.

  "Wrong, Bub. So, the doc says you guys got the door all figured out.” The man blew a huge wheel of smoke toward him.

  "We haven't seen you around for the past day or two. Where have you been hiding?” Breathred countered. He really didn't want to talk about tomorrow either. Couldn't a guy just mope around in the dark in peace?

  "I've been around, just didn't want to get in the way.” Brogan dropped the cigar and stepped on the still-burning ember. “But you didn't answer my question."

  "You didn't answer mine. I think it makes us even, don't you?"

  "Looks like you grew a set, Petrifunck. Don't think I like it, but it was bound to happen sooner or later,” Brogan said, as he stooped to poke the dying fire into a weak, but growing blaze.

  "Is there a reason for this conversation, or do you just like to pester me?” Breathred asked, growing more than a little irritated.

  "Both, but you knew that."

  "You don't like us."

  "That's the funny thing—I do. I just think you're a bit on the naive side.” He tossed a log on the fire. A haze of flames and smoke flew into the air between them.

  "What do you mean by that?” Breathred snapped.

  "You come up here with the best intentions. I know a whole road paved with those and my friend, you are slap dab in the middle of it. Your doctor has no idea what she's playing at, but I think you, your girlfriend and the monkey do.” Brogan shot him an accusatory wink.

  "Are you trying to scare me?"

  "Nope, just making an observation."

  "Okay, let's say you're right, what next? Do you plan to call in the troops?” Breathred sputtered, as the wind changed direction and blew a gust of smoke into his face.

  "Depends on what happens tomorrow."

  "When we open the door, you mean?” Breathred waved his hand to clear the smoke.

  "You got it, Bub. Appears to me it could go two ways. I could be wrong and you get a dried up corpse or two hunkered down there, or the shit hits the fan. Before you get any delusions of grandeur, understand this one thing—I am never wrong,” Brogan stated in a voice that said it was a stone-cold fact.

  "What if I said I thought you were right?"

  "Then we're in more trouble than I thought, if a dweeb like you agrees with me,” Brogan said. He lit another cigar and did not say another word.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Thirty Six

  Okay roll up your sleeves, it's time to get this ball rolling.

  Vampire hunters do not faint. Vampire hunters do not faint. The mantra rolled over and over in Breathred's mind like a wave of nausea on a roller coaster. The slayer hoped if he kept repeating it over and over it would have to work. He stared at the cold, stone door of the tomb, mocking him with its silence.

  He slammed his eyes shut to ward off the voice, but it kept pestering him. Breathred knew the voice was his own, but that didn't seem to matter. In fact it made it worse. Breathred tried not to think about his friends staring, waiting for him to open the door. He wished they would just go away. It was like trying to pee in a public restroom. You knew what to do, but the guy next to you wouldn't stop grinning. It kind of bl
ocked the process.

  Standing here wasn't going to open the door. If it would, the door would have opened an hour ago. His hand tightened on the slender scalpel Dr. Grayson had handed him. Breathred almost dropped it, as the fear of it welled up inside him yet again. He was abnormally afraid of paper cuts and was about to slash his own whatever. Did that make sense? It, sure as heck didn't to him.

  This was the kind of thing that kept him up at night. Breathred couldn't count the number of times he'd awakened from a sound sleep with rampant fears doing cartwheels in his brain. True, this wasn't ever one of those fears, but given time Breathred was sure it would have made it to the convention. Now faced with it, he was glad it hadn't. This was definitely something he only wanted to experience once.

  He gulped down a lung full of air and brought the blade up to his hand. Without looking let the scalpel fall. The knife bit softly into the tender flesh of his palm. Breathred had played with the notion of simply pricking his finger, but he wasn't sure how much blood it would take to open the door. If he drew too little, he might have to do it all over again. Breathred wasn't sure he could manage a second cut.

  Blood swelled in his cupped palm. He was spellbound by it. For one thing the shock of actually doing it was still pretty strong. Second, he was always under the insane belief his blood might possibly be green. Silly he knew, but the call of Vulcan was a thing Breathred had long since stopped trying to deny.

  Letting the warmness fill his hand, his eyes searched the door for the spot he'd noticed on the tracing. In the left-hand corner, Breathred saw the slight indentation that marked the outline of a hand pressed into the stone. He squinted to make sure it wasn't bird poo or something. No, it was a handprint all right. The door sure looked cold. Maybe he should wait until it warmed up a bit. He wouldn't want to get freezer-burn, or anything.

  "Stop the dilly dallying and touch the damn door!” Stud yelled, nearly sending Breathred falling into the rising mound of snow. “I'm freezing my nuts off over here."

  "Leave him alone, Stud. He's just a little nervous,” Luna scolded the chimp, before turning to Breathred. “You take your time, sweetie. We'll wait until you're good and ready.” She gave Stud a dirty look to shut him up before he could say another word, which from the look on his face he was about to do.