Part 5

The rest of my Sunday was lost to a bottle of Jack. I left as soon as I could, locking up the shop and tucking the file into my briefcase. Yeah, I wanted to burn it or at least not read it but it was my ticket to not being some Russian vampire's torture toy anytime soon. Hell, if I was clever enough (a girl can hope) I might get out of it without Puremount killing me for whatever a*s backwards reason he had for wanting me dead. But the file was for a weekday. I spent the end of my day of rest getting plastered.
That night was the weirdest of my dreams to date. It looked like a disco party, the music was loud, everyone was dancing, and the few not dancing were sitting at tables or the bar taking turns snorting cocaine or hitting one of the four very large bongs being passed around. Gotta love disco and all the drug abuse that goes with it.
I bumped into someone and giggled. This wasn't like the others, where I was chilling back watching the show. This one I was part of. I felt the music pound through me, felt the people brush against me while I danced to the music, felt the drugs I had taken turn everything from shiny and clear to a hazy, steamy dream. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I knew what I was doing and what was going on. It was weird but since I had only been in a drug induced stupor once I couldn't tell if it was normal to the me in the dream or if it was because it was a dream.
“Hey there, sista, you def need to take a load off.” The tall black woman I had bumped into gently took my arms and led me to an empty couch. “Girl, you are seriously fucked up.”
“No not yet, Shawnda. Maybe after another bowl.” I smiled seductively at the man holding a black and white tornado bong, holding up my hands eagerly.
“Oh no she don't want that. You take that across the room, Donny.” the black woman shooed the man away and I pouted up at her. “Don't give me that look. You sit here and eat some cookies or something. No brownies and stay away from the coke. You hear me?”
“Yes, mother, I'll eat some cookies.” I wrinkled my nose at her. “And coke is gross. Only thing going in my nose is my nose ring. I am getting a martini though and there's nothing you can do about it.”
Before she could stop me I was up and crossing the large room, heading for the bar. I made it and smiled up at the bartender, asking for my drink in my sweetest voice. He handed it to me and I took a sip, sighing and tipping my head back, holding the cool glass to the hot skin of my cleavage.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself thoroughly.”
I cracked open one eye and looked up at the man behind me who had spoken.
The part of me that knew I was dreaming knew this was Puremount or Greogi or whatever his real name was. The dream me know his name was Pure von Mount, a Russian who threw the best parties in D.C. He smiled at me with careful charm, but it didn't touch the darkness in his eyes.
“Yes, I do and it doesn't involve you.” I laughed and took another sip. “You, sir, are a shark, and this little fishy is so not on the menu.”
“Oh, really?” The smile slipped and the cold darkness filled his eyes, scaring my buzz down about ten notches. I saw blood on his face and hands, heard screams and whimpers of fear and agony. It's like I heard echoes of the horrors in his past and it was terrifying. I backed away from him and bumped right into another man.
“Woah, sweety, watch where you're going. You're gonna hurt yourself.” The tall, red haired man smiled and the good nature of it poured off him like syrup.
“Oh yeah sorry, honey.” I smiled back, putting a hand on his arm and tried not to look at von Mount again. The new guy was warm and all the impressions I got from him were brave and heroic. Guy was the definition of good, like von Mount was fear. “Just all frazzled, you know? But you look so familiar I got to show you to my friend, Shawnda, and together we'll figure out what movie star you look like.”
“Don't, Kiet,” Pure almost growled. The red head wrapped an arm around my shoulders as I shrank away in fear. The cold man said something in a language I didn't know and the guy laughed.
“Whatever, Pure. If you want the pretty empath to want to whisk you away to a private somewhere then stop being all, you know, you-ish.” He laughed and pulled me away while Pure scowled after us.
The party faded, but the guy still walked with his arm around my shoulders. When everything but him was dark and misty he turned to me.
“Don't make a habit of this, girly. You need to be careful with what dreams you wonder to. Ladybugs don't normally escape from the spider's web, you know. Get a nice witch to give you something to keep you in your own head for a change.” He winked and turned, stepping into a burning circle onto what looked like a savanna.
I woke with a start, Orango's fatness landing on my stomach. It was all of six fifteen in the morning and he was chasing shadows across the living room. I looked around, seeing I had passed out on the couch, cuddling with the empty bottle. I groaned and rubbed my forehead, sitting up and setting the bottle on the coffee table. I fumbled for the phone, hitting one of the speed dial numbers.
“Hey, Trish. Yeah I know it's early. Look I need to see Krys. Yeah, I know what I said before. Just please, its important. I've... come to realize she isn't such a crazed stoner, okay? Thanks, honey. Really. Talk to you this afternoon. Bye.” I hung up and dragged myself into the shower to start getting ready for the day.

Author's Note

Same as always enjoy.