Waking Dreams

Page 4

And then the oddest thing happened—he moved. But it wasn’t just that he moved, it was that he had absolutely no control over the movement. It was as if a rope was tied around him and he was being dragged, and suddenly, he was standing in front of her.
“Where am I?” she asked meekly, casting her eyes to the snow covered ground, and she took a small step back from him.
Eric ignored her question. “What’s your name?” he breathed, completely and utterly in awe.
She blushed, her cheeks turning an adorable pink. “Megan Caldwell, sir.”
He chuckled. “Please, do not call me sir.” He wrinkled his nose, and she smiled a smile that lit up like sunshine. “It sounds so old.” He extended his hand to her, and she laid her porcelain one in his palm. “I’m Eric. Eric Carter.”
Suddenly there was a loud snap, and Eric sprang forwards. His head spun, and he felt slightly woozy. He leaned back against the willow, attempting to steady himself. He blinked a few times, focusing his double vision, and took in a deep, gusty breath. That’s when he realized that Megan’s soft hand was no longer clasped in his own. He scanned the clearing and took in deep breaths as he searched for her. Nothing.
Megan was gone.
Eric scrubbed at his face, trying to clear his head. There was no way she could just vanish. Not that quickly. She was just a human. He had smelled her blood, sweet and fresh, and he had heard it pumping through her veins. As he raked his hands over his face, he felt a dribble of wetness at the side of his mouth. Drool. I dozed off, he realized. It was only a dream. And in that moment, his heart burst into millions of sharp-edged pieces.
Eric stared blankly at the ground for some time before he pulled himself up, and started aimlessly down the path towards home. The whole thing had seemed so real. He could still smell Megan’s sweet scent; still feel her fear clawing at his heart. All of it was so real. He had never had a dream like this before, and when he did dream, he rarely remembered a single detail once he woke up, but this was different. He could still feel her and see her, as if he was in two places at once. In the back of his mind, he could see her smile, hear her heartbeat …
“You’re late,” Lola said, as he walked through the door, and honestly, Eric didn’t remember how he even got home. Lola stood in the kitchen, leaning against the icebox, with her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a soft pink cotton dress, and her thick blond hair flowed over her shoulders. She would have been gorgeous if it wasn’t for the dirty look she was giving him right at that moment. Okay, Eric had to admit, she was still gorgeous with it, but it was really contradicting the sweet and innocent look she was trying to portray.
He cracked a half grin, trying to shake the bottomless feeling that had grown inside him. “Don’t complain. My being late today will only make the times when I am early so much more special.”
She choked on a laugh. “Oh, look at you. You think you are just so charming, don’t you?”
Eric winked. “I don’t think, I know.” Lola laughed, grabbed a dishtowel from the counter, and threw it at him as he strolled into the kitchen. He caught it easily, dropping it on the table, before plopping down in a chair.
He saw Lola watching him from the corner of his eye, and after a moment, she blurted, “Are you okay? You look a bit …” She paused, and wrinkled her nose, before continuing, “Lost.”
Eric ran a hand through his hair, and then, with a sigh, he glanced at her. “I…” he started, but his voice sounded wrong. Empty and hoarse and rough. He cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair again, and plastered on a goofy smile that he hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt. “I’m good.”
Her blue eyes sparkled, and she arched a challenging brow. “You can talk to me, you know, ummm, if you want.” It came out awkwardly, and by the way she was shifting back and forth, from one foot to the other, he was sure that she was probably regretting asking. Lola wasn’t the share your feelings type.
Eric grinned. He couldn’t stop it. He felt his lips curve, and his heartbeat picked up, thrumming against his ribcage. Lola sat down beside him, waiting for him to start talking. Should I tell her? he wondered. He wanted to. Really wanted to. Maybe if he talked about it, it would help.
He met her eyes, and her awkward smile widened to what he thought was supposed to be encouraging. He opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue, but then panic gripped his chest, and his throat closed up. What will she think of you? a voice in the back of his mind questioned. He couldn’t let her know that he had found the girl of his dreams—literally—in a dream. Lola would think he had lost his mind. He was supposed to be a vampire, a demon, not a lovesick fool pinning over an illusion.
So instead of letting the words he wanted to say come out, he shrugged and said, “Really, I’m fine.”
It was clear as crystal that Lola didn’t believe him, not for a second, but she didn’t push the subject, and in Eric’s opinion, she looked relieved to get out of the conversation. “Fine, then get your butt upstairs and get ready. The townspeople will be arriving any minute now.”
CHAPTER 5
Angelle had outdone herself. As Eric walked through their colonial home, he hardly recognized it. The wooden floors gleamed with polish, and the Palladian windows were spotless. Not that the house had been dirty before, but it was extra-clean now. She had scrubbed down the wainscoting, the white looking brighter than before, and as he walked through the great room, he saw that she had constructed a makeshift platform with a podium, and before it were fifty or so chairs. Where she had found so many chairs so quickly, he couldn’t even begin to imagine.
Eric took his time washing up and dressing for the meeting. Someone, Angelle, he assumed, had lain out a pair of black slacks and a white shirt for him on his bed. He could hear people arriving, chattering downstairs about the house, and curious murmurs about the sudden town meeting, and he knew he should hurry, but he just wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. Although he was certain that Megan was just a figment of his imagination, his imagination seemed so much better than his life at the moment.
When he finally emerged from his room, he felt as if he had been beaten and drained, and for a split-second, he thought about just turning around and staying in bed for the rest of the day. The image of Megan was fading more and more every second, now, just a foggy outline in his memory, and all he wanted to do was to grip onto it—onto to her—and never let it go.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway, a caracole of scents bombarded him. Blood. So many different kinds of blood. Sweet, sour, tangy, spicy. He had never been in such close quarters with so many beating hearts before, and it made his throat burn. A crimson haze spread over his eyes, and the now familiar throb in his gums pulsated as his fangs begged to be released.
Eric shut his eyes and held his breath. He was already certain that this little meeting was going to be a disaster and showing up with blazing eyes and sharpened teeth would not help matters. He stood in the hallway, stiff as marble, as he attempted to get himself together. It was a task that was easier said than done. He pushed Megan out of his mind completely, focusing solely on not bursting downstairs and feasting on the closest neck he could find. After a long moment, the throbbing in his gums dissipated to a soft ache, and when he opened his eyes, the red fog was gone.
Eric sucked in a few breaths, testing his control. The delicious scents hit him again, and his heartbeat picked up, but his eyesight stayed normal. When he was certain that he could handle walking into a room filled with mouthwatering, fresh blood, he started down the hallway, with slow, small steps. This time, it was Angelle’s voice that stopped him, holding him in place only a few paces from his room.
“You need to tell him, Mitch,” Angelle’s whispered voice floated around the corner of the hallway. “He needs to know what’s happening.”
“It may be just a dream, Angelle,” Mitchell said, trying to sound casual, but Eric heard the strain in his voice. His curiosity peaked. Most of the time, Mitchell seemed emotionless, always wearing a mask, but with his tight voice … Eric couldn’t help it. He stretched his hearing, needing to know what could possibly ruffle Mitchell’s cool and calm persona.
“It’s not,” Lola hissed. “I’m sure of it. You didn’t see Eric. You didn’t hear his heart or smell his desire. He’s found her.” Her hasty tone was almost vicious.
Found who? Eric’s heart stopped beating, and he strained his senses, anxious not to miss a beat of their conversation.
“I doubt that,” Mitchell said. “He’s only two weeks old.”
“It could happen, and if he’s not ready …” Angelle paused, and Eric could imagine the frown that marred her pretty little face. “He could make a mistake. She must be close, Mitch. If she wasn’t, the dreams wouldn’t have started yet.”
There was a pause, and then Mitchell let out a deep sigh. “He knows the story. If it was her, I’m sure he would have put the pieces together.”
Eric crept closer, desperately trying to keep quiet. What mistake? What do they know about the dream? What story? Could Megan be more than a dream? The questions burned through his mind, each one fighting over the other to be answered. And each one seemed ludicrous.
“Look, we don’t have time for this right now,” Mitchell said. “Everyone is waiting.”
Eric took another small step, hoping they would keep talking. A floorboard creaked under his foot. He sucked in a breath, holding it, and trying not to make a sound.
“Hello, Eric,” Mitchell called, his voice booming and tinted with annoyance.
The air rushed from Eric’s lungs in a noisy burst. Why did he have to try and get closer? He glanced over his shoulder at his bedroom door hanging wide open, debated for a second about locking himself in there, but then knowing that was pointless and wouldn’t hold against their strength, he let out a longing sigh, and ventured down the hallway.
“Sir,” Eric said tightly and gave a small, stiff nod as Mitchell came into view. He was just around the corner, leaning against the banister at the top of the staircase. Angelle and Lola were in front of him looking blameworthy, in Eric’s opinion.