MisStaked (34 page)

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]

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 blocked 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.

Breathred gave them an apologetic look only to catch sight of Brogan frowning at him from behind the chimp. Breathred tried to ignore the look, but he couldn't. Their talk last night had cemented a bond between them. Whatever happened in the next few minutes, Breathred knew the man would be ready to face anything that came out the door.

A little more relaxed knowing they were there, he lifted his blood-soaked hand to the door. Breathred hesitated a second, then slapped his palm against the stone. The chill from the door ran up his hand and moved quickly to his arm and shoulder. He didn't have time to acknowledge the sensation before it was replaced by another—pain.

Raw electricity shot through his body. It was visible, as a halo that surrounded him. Breathred blinked through the pain and saw his blood racing across the surface of the door. It filled the cracks and lines making up the pictograms. They burned with an unholy radiance that consumed the dull, gray stone, blocking out everything but their ancient promise.

In the midst of the agony erupting around him Breathred heard a soft voice question the dark interiors of his very soul. He fought to drive the voice out, but couldn't. It wanted him. He staggered to the snow-covered ground. He couldn't get the voice to quit.

Come to me, little warrior. I thirst,
the voice beckoned.

"No!” Breathred howled.

I need you. You have breached my resting place. I can taste the richness of the purity coursing through your veins. Give it to me
.

"I said no!” Breathred screamed through a wave of agony, drawing concerned stares from his friends who weren't sure what was going on.

Then why do you seek to open my tomb, if not to submit to my touch?
the voice demanded.

"Because, others seek to use you for their own evil gains. I won't allow them to succeed,” Breathred stated through clinched teeth as the pain intensified.

It is not your place to allow, but mine. I am the Mother of Damnation. In me rest the seeds of forever for those who come to me. Will you accept my charms, little warrior?
the voice asked, seductively.

"Never!” Breathred exclaimed.

Then, enter freely and of your own accord,
the voice announced sadly before fading into nothingness.

A burst of power rocketed through Breathred, sending him flying from the door. He landed in a mound of melting snow. It took him a minute to realize he was the reason it was melting. Steam billowed from him, as the last of the energy evaporated away. Groggily Breathred raised his aching head, but waited a minute before deciding vampire hunters did indeed faint, and did so, as fast as he could.

"Hey, wake up,” Stud said, his voice a mass of unspoken emotion. It took everything the chimp had not to smack the big goob upside the head, figuring it would be the only thing to wake the goofus up.

"Oh God, what if he's dead?” Luna sobbed hysterically beside him, as they hunched over the unconscious Breathred.

"He's not dead. See, his chest is moving. You can't be dead and still be breathing,” Stud said, relieved.

Dr. Grayson poked her head between the two friends. “I think Breathred just passed out. He took quite a jolt. It must have been a shock to his system."

"He could be brain-dead. I heard electrical shocks could do that,” Luna said, continuing to sob.

"How could you tell, even if he was?” Stud knew the remark was gonna get him in trouble the minute it left his mouth, but didn't care. Being a smart ass was his defense mechanism. Breathred may be her boyfriend, but the goob was—what the hell did it matter what Breathred was? Breathred was his, and nothing else mattered.

"Stud!” Luna gasped.

"Luna, it's all right. The shock wasn't electrical. I believe it was more mystical in nature. He should be fine. We need to give him time to recover, though. Breathred could be out for some time,” Dr. Grayson assured the sobbing girl.

"Not with everyone shouting, I won't.” Breathred moaned.

Stud let a totally uncharacteristic prayer of thanks escape his lips, but internally dared anyone to call him on it.

"Oh, Breathy! You're okay!” Luna exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. She didn't stop crying, but the timbre of her voice was definitely of better quality than before, Stud was happy to note.

"Come on, Toots. Let him catch his breath,” Stud said, pulling her back, afraid she was going to suffocate the goob.