Dead Wrong

by H L Goodnight

  "Roth. I'm sorry. It was a bad wreck. Luckily, I'm tougher than my sedan."

  Roth said, "That's a relief. When can I see you?" There was a pause, and then it sounded like he was drinking.

  "I am a mess." Probably in better shape than him though.

  "I can make it all better. Just let me come over and-"

  "I have to go," I said hanging up.

  I wasn't surprised at the buzzing of my cell or Roth's continuous drunk-dialing. Whatever we’d started was over. I didn’t want to revisit the pain of what could have been. Endangering Roth again wasn’t something that would happen again.

  I hunched over as my stomach felt like it was being sawed open. I put my hand to above my belly button and was surprised to find it wet. I hadn't eaten. Had I got water on me from the spray bottle?

  Dark blood covered my hand. I said, "Shit."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Opening my eyes, I looked around confused. I was lying on a futon floor like a bed, surrounded by pillows. Sitting next to me eating a peach was Kian. He wore a pair of loose silk pants and nothing more. Juice from the fruit fell onto his chest.

  He met my eyes but said nothing. He held out a strawberry. My second favorite fruit.

  I took a bite and tried to sit up, but realized I was tied up. A rope bound my hands and feet together.

  Another perverted dream starting Kian.

  What if this was more than a dream? His eyes could glow. He could invade dreams. But this was my dream, my turf. It had taken therapy, and I’d worked hard to train my mind and establish control when I slept. The first dreams had caught me off guard. This one did not.

  I thought, I am not in bondage. The rope vanished, but it was still hard to sit up. I was wounded.

  Kian frowned, "Now how is that fun? You didn't come to me."

  I held my stomach, hoping I wasn’t unconscious and bleeding to death in my apartment. "What are you?"

  He shrugged, "Why would you want to define me?" He took another bite of the peach. "To limit me?" He tossed the peach. "Comprehend me?" He moved dream fast, and I was pinned underneath him. "Love me?" His lips came down for a kiss.

  His touch burned, making me ache for more.

  I pushed him away out of a survival instinct. Blood pumped through me, but it was hard to move. It felt like moving through sludge, slow and hard to get any strength. I kept pushing at his shoulders and chest as his lips continued to force a response from mine.

  He moved back, and Kian's hair fell over his eyes.

  I thought, I am standing. Looking down at Kian on the floor, I asked, "What is the purpose of this? Are you some kind of supernatural stalker?"

  It was easier to move once he wasn't touching me. My pulse pounded from the desire to join him on the ground.

  He rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, "The purpose is to give and receive pleasure." Sitting upright he said, "You were more amicable last time."

  I grimaced.

  "Sadly, it looks like I am just something else you have chalked up as monster?" He shook his head as he stood up. "Is it so awful to pursue someone you desire?" His eyes were deep seas that would be easy to lose myself in.

  "What are you?" I asked again.

  "More and less than whatever you are imagining.” He stood up, putting a hand over his heart. “Am I so hideous you would not embrace me?" He titled his head. His hands fell to his sides.

  "You are full of crap!"

  Kian smirked. "I could be. But maybe I am full of the desire to have you underneath me. Making those moans again as my tongue explores every inch of you."

  My traitorous body continued to respond. Kian is not to be trusted, stupid libido.

  I asked, "Why can't you answer even one question?"

  He laughed, throwing his head back, "You are so much fun, Dianna. I will answer one question."

  "Okay. Are you Max?"

  "That is complicated. The answer is not an easy one." He sat on the floor, his legs crossed.

  "Tell me.” My heart pumped, and I kept pressing a hand over the injury on my stomach.

  "That night," his voice was low and hard to hear. Echoes of screams sounded as he continued, "Max died. The beast of shadows killed him.”

  "Are you Max," I asked again. Passion froze as I met his odd gaze.

  "The answer is no and yes. I was Max. But Max no longer exists. I am Kian."

  Pain welled up inside of me. This was bad; I had to stay in control, to keep lucid.

  It was hard to step away from him, like moving through the mud. Vomit hit the back of my throat, "I loved you."

  "I am not Max. But I have his memories. Max loved you." Kian sighed. "He was obsessed with you."

  "You," my voice broke. I tried to calm myself as wrath filled me. "Why did you drug me?”

  "Max wanted-"

  "You raped me!" Red overtook me. I launched myself at him, hitting and kicking. With every hit, my body moved more freely.

  He blocked the first string of blows, but then he dropped his arms to the side. After a dozen kicks, he fell to the ground.

  I launched myself on top of him and punched his beautiful face. Spit flew from my mouth as I shouted, "You raped me!"

  He was bleeding as he looked up at me, one eye swollen.

  "I," the blow knocked his head to the side. "Can't be normal!" The next blow fell like a hammer breaking his jaw.

  He didn't move.

  I stood up moving away, and the dream turned back to normal colors. The room dripped with scarlet streaks, saturated with blood. I fell down in the pools of it crying.

  "Why?” Sobbing uncontrollably, I wrapped my arms around my legs. “I loved you.”

  Warm arms wrapped around me from behind.

  I asked again, "Why?"

  Kian spoke softly in my ear, "Max wanted you. He took you. Your consent was not required." The heat from his body made me feel nauseous. "It is now.”

  I screamed. "I will never give my consent! Ever!" I stood up and pushed him away.

  His body and face had returned to being perfect, all traces of the blood and bruises vanished. "I am not Max. I am Kian," his face was eager, and he held out his arms.

  "What?" I resisted the urge to attack him again. "So you changed your identity and face, so I should sleep with you?"

  "Dianna, I am Kian. Not Max. Max is no more."

  "What does that even mean!?" I rubbed my arms, "Get out of my dream, Max! Or Kian! Or whatever your name really is. Leave me alone!”

  He stood up. "That I cannot do." He held out his hand, and said, "Choose me."

  As his image faded, I slowly regained consciousness. My sheets were tangled around my legs. Blood from the slice in my abdomen had stained them as I slept. How had I gotten to bed?

  My phone started vibrating on the nightstand. I picked it up, wincing at the pain the movement caused. The caller-ID said, Kian Maxwell. Maxwell. Max. Fuck him.

  Screaming, I threw the phone against the wall. It shattered.

  That sick bastard. I would never willingly go near Kian again. Because of him, I wasn’t normal.

  After that night of pain and death, I had shut myself down. It was easier that way. I couldn't have relationships. After six years of isolation, I finally put myself out there and had a relationship, and sex, with Roth.

  To say it hadn’t worked out was an understatement.

  Now, I had two people who were working their way into my heart, and another who had taken one more piece out of it.

  Kian. There was no possibility of forgiveness. I couldn't ignore him completely though. He was the key to answers from the past. Sooner rather than later, I would have to face him.

  I didn't know what he meant by Max was gone, but he’d admitted to being Max. The rest sounded like a fresh load of bull.

  The wound near my naval was slightly open. I could see where the scar tissue had opened. Gross. I got up and put duct tape to seal and press the skin together. It should mend
soon enough.

  I hopped around and tested the pain level. It was manageable.

  In the workout room, I tried to skip rope. The wound in my gut hurt but I ignored it. Going through the motions, I decided some things. Kian, or Max, or whatever he called himself, was something with power. He had set eyes on me.

  He could potentially be a threat to Dominick and Alec. I needed to sever ties. Their club might plan to kill me anyway.

  I kept skipping rope, hoping that the exercise would calm the mania.

  The idea of never seeing either Alec or Dominick again made it hard to breathe. But what choice did I have? If I wasn't a descendant of their precious order, I put my life and their lives at risk if they choose to side with me.

  On top of that, I had some kind of supernatural stalker. Not to mention the boogieman lurking nearby. No, Alec and Dominick were best well away from me. I would have to not care about the Zachar brothers.

  However, the ache in my chest reminded me, the choice of caring about either Alec or Dominick had already been made.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I'd done a web search of the odd disc that had been in the music box. Similar discs were made for music box-like machines long ago. Some people still made them or restored them as a pastime, but it was rare.

  In the nineteenth century, there had been machines from Germany called Polyphon. The examples of the discs for it looked like thin tin, not thick copper. Looking up information hadn't been difficult, but the writing on the disc didn't match any of the languages written or spoken in places similar types of machines had popped up. Russia, Germany, Poland, England, and France all were listed as places of various musical machines using discs.

  The writing, φοῖνιξ still remained a mystery.

  Looking up local antique dealers was another simple web search. One had sounded perfect a dealer stating their online store had a banner saying music boxes old and new. The shop and the surrounding stores were closed for the night.

  I touched the disc in a plastic sealed baggie in my bag. As I looked for a sign about hours an odd aching in my stomach made me curse. I lifted up the layers of clothes to check on it. The tape didn't have any fresh blood leaking out, so it was just the ache of healing.

  Even the Shadowed Man's caress was deadly.

  The problem with generally not having to sleep is that you often find yourself outside store hours. I had parked a couple blocks away out of habit. One shop next to Rock O' The Ages were a barbershop complete with a red, blue, and white candy cane striped pole, a throwback to days when the pole stood as a symbol for medical aid. Now it was a nice decorative touch. It appeared to be a nice row of stores. The antique shop was next to the barbers, and on its other side was a cupcake shop.

  Each of the shops was in old buildings from a time when architects actually cared about the shapes of windows and making the buildings attached to each other unique.

  Reading the small sign on Rock O' The Ages door, my temper flared. The odor of sewage drifted from above the shop. Globs of puss hit my shoulder as I twisted my body, letting gravity pull my rear down to roll away to the side. The creature landed where I had stood. It had two arms, two legs, and one head. That is where the similarities to a human ended.

  His head was reminiscent of a roach, flattened with large waving antenna almost as long as his legs. His arms were jagged and also resembled an insect. His multifaceted eyes reflected the shops and me. He turned his head back and forth constantly, with a swaying motion. He let out a loud shrieking chitter, and raised an arm to slash at me. My tonfas were still in a lockbox in my car, so I rolled away to dodge.

  I rolled once more, feeling the cold and snow of the empty sidewalk on my back and side. Far enough away from bugboy, I stood. I pulled my hoodie over my face and started running. There weren't a lot of people around, but there was still some traffic, both foot, and car.

  I ran down the first alley opening. The alley led to a parking lot and area of dumpsters behind the row of buildings. I dashed through the large space towards a public walking park that was right after a crossroad and another row of buildings.

  Picking up the pace a burst of speed took me into the woods. I didn't bother turning around to see if the creature was still following me, because the putrid stench of raw sewage hadn't left my nostrils.

  Once we'd run a good clip into the wooded area, I used my momentum to jump from the snowy path to the side of a tree. Pushing down on my knees and my foot as it connected, the energy built up, and I twisted around. My right leg shot out the way we had been coming. The kick hit the bug-man in the neck area. It made another shrieking chitter.

  Keeping the momentum going, I spun away about five feet, facing the creature. The snow kicked up, but it wasn't slippery. It was the kind that seemed to hold your footprint. I stayed in a defensive position.

  It wasn't immediately getting up, which gave me a better chance to look it over. Its long arms were insectoid, but this close the jagged edges looked more like large saw blades. Best not to get hit. It lay on its back, flailing its limbs.

  I broke off a large branch from a tree and slammed it down on the head. The creature just kept kicking its appendages and twitching its antennae. It made no effort to get up. I hit it once more, and the bug-man stopped moving.

  The slime from the roach creature sprayed out each time a hit landed, splattering my clothes. Whew. Anti-climactic but better than fighting roach-man. Everywhere the gooey substance had hit my clothes were smoking. Acid. As I started to take off my jacket, I was hit across my back.

  Something smashed into the side of my body taking me to the ground. The strength of the blow knocked the wind out of me and made the wound left from the Shadowed Man throb. Two ribs made snapping noises as my body cushioned my attacker's from the tree we smashed into.

  Spitting up blood, I pushed the attacker off my back. I fell but landed in a crouch.

  The thin gloves didn't protect me from the cold. The man stood, but his posture was off. Like he had hurt his back and had to hunch it up.

  It was a man. It made me pause for a second. He looked like a regular man, not particularly attractive. He wore a hoodie with a dark leather jacket. His eyes darted around. He was high.

  He looked at me and said in a thick inner-city accent, "Dead Red Girl has it."

  A group of young men came up behind him. None were monsters. My clothes continued to smoke, and I feared if the fight didn't end soon, my hoodie, jacket, and pants wouldn't be the only thing with holes in them.

  "Give it," he demanded in that strange voice. It almost sounded like he was recovering from laryngitis, his voice was so choppy and hoarse.

  The young men approaching all had the same look in their eyes, "Give it to us!"

  I didn't kill humans. Monsters, sure. Humans, no.

  I needed to get out of here. But he had called me by the same name that the Shadowed Man used, and so had the men who'd attacked me with the now deceased Dem.

  He reached for me with one hand, but I dodged. Moving to the side as he stabbed towards me with his knife, I grabbed his wrist and kept his momentum going, shoving him into the group of men close by. He stumbled and fell on one of them. The other four men seemed to be more on the ball.

  The back of the leather jacket had a cobra on the back, with the embroidered letters starting with an A inside a banner. Before I could contemplate it further, the other four men rushed me. Too many to take on and not injure or kill.

  Running, I used a tree again to bounce off and kick one of them in the chest. There was a crunching noise. He collapsed to the ground. The other three took out guns.

  I held up my hands and then kicked snow up in the air. Using a burst of speed I ran away as fast as possible. Popping noises sounded behind me. I wished for the monster's immunity to bullets. None hit me.

  As I fled, one of them yelled, "He will find you! He will own you Dead Red Girl!"

  My stomach burned where the Shadowed Man had clawed me. The trees we
re dense and mostly pines, with the occasional aspen and oak. Two men followed, but I outpaced them.

  After nothing but woods, hills, and snow surrounded me I leaned against a tree to get back my breath.

  Something on the wind beckoned me. A gentle whisper through the snow, "Dianna."

  I looked to the left. Between some pines, atop a hill, the outline of a man with two burning eyes lit the distance with a red light and the small light of what appeared to be the burning butt of a cigarette.

  Was it Kian? Was he like me, blessed with gifts after Lake Clare? Or was he the best-disguised monster I'd ever met?

  My feet moved towards the direction without thought.

  The wind picked up, and I felt the shift of moisture in the air. Snow started falling at a rapid pace, blocking my view. The moon was almost full and brightly lit the darkness. I debated chasing the eyes, and seeing if it actually was Kian.

  Fighting the urge, I wondered what Kian really was. My feet walked towards where the glow had been. I growled in frustration. Turning away from that direction, I decided it was time to leave.

  Distant voices sounded from the north side of the park. Turning back, I ran towards where the glow had been. I wasn't sure what I'd do if it wasn't Kian. And I had no clue what I'd do if it were him. Standing where the figure had been, I breathed in the smells of the city and the traces of smoke, musk, and a strange spicy smell.

  Turning to go back to my car, I clasped my stomach. It hurt. My breath puffed out in the cold. My back suddenly felt as if icy water had been poured down it.

  The hairs on my arms stood on end, and as I turned to look behind me, fear rose, seizing my throat.

  Fronds of black ink swirled as the Shadowed Man took form. Vapors and ink rose and unfolded like origami from a tree's shadow. Its body trembled in anticipation as it rose.

  My feet sped as it reached for my leg. The sharp nails shredded the leg of my jeans and tore at my calf. I wasn't slowing down.

  It was here.

  Sprinting with everything I could muster the surroundings became a blur as my legs raced me to safety. Slowing down and looking around constantly, I tried to catch my breath.