Dreams

That night, I dreamed. I was standing on a raised dais in a dark room, faced with a large flaming torch, which only produced enough light for me to see myself, and the outline of two others nearby. Standing on opposite sides of the torch, I saw a man who would have been handsome if not for the scars upon his face; and a slightly smaller man, who looked over at the opposing man with a calm expression. The man with the scar suddenly looked over at me, and the flame sputtered. He smiled with crooked lips.

“Believe no lies, boy.”

                I gasped and tried to back away, but I was stuck where I was. The man’s voice and words left no doubt; this was Leorahn, and he was just as twisted and insane as I had imagined. So that made the other man…

“Do not trust insanity.” My father said, not looking at me, but his eyes locked upon Leorahn, in an unbreakable focus.

                “I don’t get it!” I screamed, “Am I a Guardian?? Tell me!”

                “You are mine,” Leorahn said with a leer, “My creation; my puppet…my slave.”

                The flame exploded into scalding lava that seared into my flesh, burning me with the worst pain I had ever felt. I let out a blood-curdling scream, and woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. I was panicked, and confused; so the dark shape beside me startled me into another scream. The shape reach out and grabbed me suddenly, it’s glowing Aura turning into a light ochre…the color of protection.

                “Shhhh,” Barrick hushed. “It’s all right. It was a dream.”

                I gasped out my relief, and allowed myself to be folded in his arms. It had been so long since we had been this close, and it felt good. Perhaps it was our brief parting that had affected Barrick’s attitude. He cradled me, as though I were eleven years old again. I couldn’t help it; I started to cry.

                “What is it?” he asked, his concern mounting visibly.

                I tried to choke it back, but it kept coming. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry…"

                “For what, boy,” Barrick inquired.

                “I…I don’t…” I gulped, “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry.”

                Barrick’s frame shuddered in silent laughter. “I never thought you did. It was interesting to hear those words coming from you, though.”

                I pulled away from him, “But I meant it then! I’m just so…so confused! I want it all to be back to how it was!”

                I couldn’t see Barrick’s face, but I knew he was contemplating my words. He said softly, “I know. And I cannot help you as much as I wish I could. In some ways, I am as confused as you are.”

                I sniffed and then wiped my nose on my wrist. I listened for Braydie, but she had not stirred. She slept like a log. I shuffled over closer to Barrick, who put an arm around my shoulders.

                “I’m glad you’re my Master.” I muttered.

                His arm squeezed my shoulder. “I try to be as good as my own Master. Now, what was so frightening that woke you?”

                I shuddered as I told him of my dream, my voice catching on Leorahns last words to me. Barrick’s hold on me increased as I had spoken. By the end, his Aura was on-edge.

                “Listen to me, Flynn,” Barrick said firmly, “Whatever you think, you are no more Leorahn’s property than I am. And I swear to you that I will die before allowing him to control you.”

                I had my doubts, but it was enough for me just then. Barrick gently pushed me back down to the floor, and brought the blanket up to my shoulders. Then, as he had that night so long ago, he reached out and touched the sides of my face. A sudden and welcome relaxation flowed through my body, and I fell asleep quickly. The rest of the night was, mercifully, devoid of dreams.

                ***

                The next morning, I awoke to the sound of running water very near my head. A beam of light filtered from the foot of the bathroom door, and tendrils of steam reached out from the room into the hall before dissipating in the chill of the outside. I buried myself deeper into my blankets, wanting to go back to sleep. After the shower shut off, I heard the door open, and a damp warmth blasted into my face. I stuffed my face into the pillow.

                “Flynn?” Braydie pestered. I felt a nudge in my back, and I peeked over to see her poking me with her damp toe.

                “I protest to this treatment.” I said wearily.

                “It’s your turn.” She informed me.

                I curled up into a tighter ball. “I slept on the floor, Madam.”

                “So?” Braydie was not one for fairness, I could plainly see this. “I’m pretty sure Archie and Marcus want us downstairs in a while, so get a move on.”

                I groaned, but pushed myself off the floor, and dragged myself into the bathroom. I turned on the hot water, but had to wait a few moments for it to warm up after Braydie’s shower. I was stripping down when I caught myself in the mirror over the sink. I leaned toward it, bracing myself with both hands on the porcelain. I peered at my dark blond hair and pale complexion, with thin lips and blue eyes. British: that was what I looked like. And as I recalled from the fragments of my dream, it was also my father’s face. For some reason I had not even noticed, my childhood freckles had disappeared, leaving my face…pure. Almost angelic.

I was interrupted from my reverie by the steam rising from the shower stall. I jumped in without another thought, dismissing the dream from my mind. The shower was refreshing, but it did nothing for my lost sleep. I was still numb and exhausted from the night before.

                About a half hour later, Braydie and I walked into the kitchen; correction: Braydie walked, I stumbled in blearily, still not awakened by the pounding hot water upstairs. Barrick and Archie were already there; Barrick by the stove, and Archie seated at the breakfast nook.

                “Flynn, take this.” Barrick said, handing me the frying pan he was holding. I sighed and took it. He was trying to make pancakes again: a fruitless effort on his part. I had memories of burned hockey-puck-like dough, and didn’t complain about making breakfast.

                “A man who can cook,” Braydie said dramatically. “How refreshing.”

                I stuck out my tongue at her, but wasn’t particularly in the mood for bickering. I was still very tired, and the prospect of a full day of school made me want to simply pass out.

                “Is he all right?” Archie asked.

                I blinked and found myself shrugging over the stove, half asleep. I shook my head to clear it, and flipped the golden brown pancake onto a plate and passing it to Braydie. “Sorry.”

                “Do you need to stay home?” She asked, her face concerned.

                I wanted nothing more. I glanced at Barrick hopefully. He sighed heavily. “Fine. Finish up here, then the two of you go back upstairs.”

                I fell asleep twice more before everyone got fed. I sacrificed my breakfast in favor of sleep, though I had to wait for Braydie to be finished with her food. As soon as she was done and the plate was in the dishwasher, I dragged myself after Braydie, who led the way to our hallway. I was expecting to have to sleep on the floor again, but Braydie scooped up my pillow and blankets and trotted into her room. I didn’t have the energy to refuse. Instead, as soon as she laid out my blanket on her bed, I collapsed on it, and was asleep before I knew what hit me.