Chapter 7: Sweet Dreams
I could feel the warm sunlight on my face. My eyes protested. They weren’t ready to open yet. The blankets felt unusually soft around my body. I snuggled into their warmth. I was still so very tired.
I’d been dreaming all night, and my mind was having a hard time trying to decipher between dream and reality. All the visions from my sleep came rushing at me in an instant.
It was more like a slide show than a solid dream. Marcus had been there. I saw the two of us in a beautifully lit room filled with flowers, red roses to be exact. He was holding me—the way I wanted him to. He was kissing me passionately, our bodies together, like we were made for one another.
Then chaos: people in dark clothing rushing around, some wearing armor and carrying swords. I was looking out a window watching Marcus mount a horse. He was dressed all in black with a gleaming sword hanging from his side. Our eyes met as he gave me one last fleeting look before he rode off . . .
I saw myself running down a dark road. The moon overhead was my only light. I caught my reflection in a puddle as I ran past. My clothing resembled Marcus's. I was dressed like a warrior, with a sword in my hand.
I could see the shapes of bodies all around me in the darkness. Some were people I knew, friends I think. The rest were the mongrels that had invaded our land, the traitors that betrayed us. I could hear the snarls and screams from the battle up ahead. I ran as fast as I could through the bodies toward the fight. I needed to help Marcus. By the bodies on the ground, I knew that our numbers were dropping. I could hear myself clearly this time. I was screaming out his name, looking for him, hoping I wouldn’t find him in the carnage.
The sound of paws coming along behind me was getting closer and closer. I’d killed so many already . . . I had to find Marcus. I had to tell him before it was too late.
I picked up my pace, running faster toward the meadow. I could see Marcus fighting not far from me. I moved toward him when I heard a deep growl from behind me. I spun around, drawing my sword . . .
I recognized him immediately. Damen! His teeth in the light resembled a sinister smile. He wasn’t looking for me this time—he was looking for Marcus.
“You won’t touch him,” I hissed as I asserted myself between them.
He growled, warning me to step aside. I held my stomach for a moment. I knew I was saying goodbye. Damen’s eyes narrowed. He watched as I raised my sword up into the moonlight. A loud growl greeted me as I ran toward him, taking on my final fight.
Startled, I sat straight up, gripping my stomach as I had in my dream. I looked around the room frantically.
Marcus was in a chair beside the bed and was instantly at my side.
“Where is he?” I yelled out, still not focusing on any one thing in the room.
“Who?”
“Damen!” I shouted. “He was just here!”
Marcus leaned slowly back from me, his eyes wide. “Who?” I could hear the uneasiness in his voice.
I was trying to see out my bedroom window from the bed—I didn’t see anything but the tree outside. I frowned.
I looked at Marcus and saw his shaken expression. “How do you know that name?” he hissed.
“He’s the one that killed me!” I said excitedly, as if I’d just cracked the biggest mystery ever.
“How did you know that?” he spat.
“You did?”
“Of course. He was seen fleeing after he . . . but you couldn’t have known that.”
“I just dreamed it,” I said pausing thoughtfully, a blush coating my cheeks. I drew my legs up and wrapped my arms around them. “I saw so many things . . . you and I in this beautiful room filled with flowers.” I snuck a glance his way.
Marcus’s mouth opened to speak, then closed. He looked . . . awestruck.
“I saw you leading troops to battle the werewolves, and me rushing to help, hoping to find you so I could tell you I was . . .” I stopped suddenly. I debated quickly and decided to skip this memory for now. I bit my lip nervously. “I even saw my fight with Damen.” I reached out to touch Marcus's stunned face, noticing my bare arm for the first time. I followed it back to my body, looking down—I was completely naked beneath the covers. “MARCUS!”
He immediately knew what I was thinking. His expression went from one of disbelief to shockingly-embarrassed in a fraction of a second. “You fell in the shower and hit your head!” he said defensively. “I didn’t look, honestly. I wrapped you in your towel and put you right into bed. I’ve been sitting right over there ever since, watching you, making sure you were alright.” He pointed to the chair in the corner.
I looked down and lifted the covers back. I was indeed wrapped in my bath towel. I reached behind my head, rubbing the small knot that was throbbing as we spoke.
“I told you that you were in shock,” he scolded, trying to divert the attention off him. “You could have drowned!”
I smiled at him through flushed cheeks. “It appears you have me at a disadvantage Mr. Ashworth.”
His face looked puzzled.
My eyes dropped as I smoothed the covers over me. “It would seem that there is nothing left for the imagination where I’m concerned,” I teased.
Marcus blushed in his own way. But I could see there was something else weighing on his mind. He sat on the edge of the bed; his eyes reluctantly meeting mine.
“Marcus?” I was starting to feel uneasy.
“Phoebe, I have to ask. Do you really believe that I let you die? That I didn’t . . . love you enough?” His voice cracked as he spoke.
I hung my head in shame. “No, I don’t believe that. I think you loved me more than I can imagine. I don’t know why I said those things to you last night.” I buried my face in my hands.
Marcus scooted over, pulling me against him. I rested my head on his chest and breathed in deeply. It seemed like forever ago that I took in his sweet scent. “I was afraid for you to leave me,” I admitted. “ Marcus. I don’t want to die.”
“You won’t!” he said with a hint of finality in his voice. “As for Damen . . .” His tone had turned venomous.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about Damen.” “Why bring up things that will only hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” he asked curiously pulling back to see my face. “What do you know that would hurt me?”
My face gave me away.
“Phoebe,” he warned.
I shook my head. “It was just a dream,” I insisted trying to convince myself. “By some miracle, I was able to see bits and pieces from our past. Some good. Some bad. And some I don’t understand yet . . .” I puzzled momentarily. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway,” I added cheerfully. “He’s dead; and good riddance!”
I secured the towel around my body and went to my dresser for some clothes.
Marcus caught my hand just as I reached for the handle. “What makes you think Damen is dead?” he asked.
“Uhh, he would have to be, that dream I had would have been . . .” I paused to consider the era. “ . . . at least five-hundred years ago. We’ve all been long since dead.” I looked at him like I’d just stated the obvious.
He leaned in close to me. “Not all of us!” he whispered with a crooked smile.
My mind wrapped around that thought for a half a second. My eyes popped open as I realized what Marcus was saying.
“He’s still alive!” I gasped. “But how could that be? And how would you know that unless you’re . . .? ”
“Still living too,” he finished my thought.
Every bit of last night came crashing down on me. Werewolves, rejection, panic attacks, vampires—Marcus was a vampire, a real vampire! I looked at him out the corner of my eye. I smiled nervously, still not trusting that any of this was real. “How old are you?” I asked.
“Hmm” he thought briefly. “I’d say . . . seven hundred and forty-nine this November.”
“‘Seven-hundred and forty-nine’?” The word
s stuck in my throat.
He could see my wheels turning, slowly.
“You’re . . .”
“Immortal? Yes,” he admitted flatly. Marcus watched me closely, probably expecting me to crack up again—he wouldn’t be disappointed.
I put my hand on my forehead, trying to steady myself. My mind was on overload. I hadn’t considered he was immortal.
“Perhaps you should lie down again,” he suggested, eyeing me carefully.
“It wasn’t a dream, was it? You’re really a . . .v-vampire?” I stuttered. I looked into his deep brown eyes. Saying it out loud didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“Yes.”
“And I’m . . . was . . .”
He reached out to hold me . . . but hesitated.
I stared at his arms that were half extended to me. Even though the thought of Marcus being an actual vampire was frightening beyond words, I couldn’t stand the distance between us. I closed the gap and let his arms wrap about me.
He brushed his lips across my forehead, sighing contentedly.
I smiled up into his glorious face. He was truly beautiful, and he loved me as much as I loved him. We’d always been meant for each other. Lifetime after lifetime, and now we were together again, with nothing to separate us.
Marcus watched the smile slip off my face. “What is it?” He looked alarmed.
“Was that . . .” I knew the answer before I asked the question. I’d seen those eyes that had watched me through the window before. They were the very eyes that stared into mine before they killed me in my dream. I could feel my pulse begin to quicken. “Damen was here last night, wasn’t he?” The sudden look of rage that claimed him, answered my question. “Damen bit me?”
“Yes.”
Several things occurred to me at once. First, Damen was alive! And if he was as old as Marcus said he was, he would remember the past. If he were to somehow tell Marcus the secret I was hiding from him, Marcus would surely try to kill him. Marcus could die! I could lose him. But was this really my secret to keep?
Second, Damen had killed me. The look in his eyes last night was no different than in my dream: Murderous!
Third, and most disturbing of all, was that Damen had bitten me; and I now shared some of his memories. He would be after me to turn me into a werewolf like him—I was certain of it. He could have me like he wanted so very long ago. I didn’t want to share that information with Marcus either.
“Oh no, is that the time?” I said in a panic, snapping out of my dark thoughts. I stared at the clock wide-eyed. It was 10:45 am. “I gotta hurry! I forgot I’m supposed to meet Kim and Leah for lunch at 11:30!” I abandoned my original choice of attire and rushed to my closet for a dressier outfit.
“Who?” Marcus asked.
“My co-workers. We’re supposed to meet a new client.” I shouted over my shoulder as I dug deeper through my wardrobe. “Do you have anything planned for today?”
“A little hunting trip,” he said darkly. I could almost hear him smiling.
I spun around. “You’re not going after Damen are you?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself Phoebe. I’ll take care of this.” He spoke as if he were going to drop off dry cleaning.
“No! Marcus, you can’t. Just let him go.”
“I like the black one. You always looked good in black,” he mused, his head tilting slightly to the right, as if imagining me in it.
My attention was briefly diverted to the two dresses in my hands. I frowned. He was trying to distract me. “Marcus, please. Don’t go alone. If you have to go, let me come with you, I’m sure . . .”
“NO!”
I nearly fell backward into my closet.
“You’re not to be anywhere near him. Do you understand?” His words were harsh and direct.
“I only thought that if there were two of us—”
He flew at me, stopping anything else I may have said. He held me tightly in front of him so that he had my full attention.
“I don’t want to be in any way unclear about this,” he growled. “You are not to get involved. You can’t fight him. You’ll lose!”
“I could distract him or maybe if you showed me . . .”
“NO!” he hissed. “I never liked you fighting before, and you’re less equipped to do it now.”
I suddenly felt insulted. “What do you mean, less equipped? I know I’m not the most athletic girl, but I’m sure I could fight off a . . .” I couldn’t even believe I was having this conversation. I put my hands on the side of my face, trying to keep my head from exploding. “ . . . werewolf, if my life or yours depended on it.” Besides, I owe him. I thought to myself. He took more than one life that night!
“You wouldn’t last a fraction of a second before he ripped your throat out again,” Marcus said harshly.
My hands were instinctively shielding my neck. He was right, and deep down I knew it. Still, I couldn’t let him go. I felt just as protective of Marcus as he did for me. I lifted my chin high. “I fought them before. With training, I could do it again.” I spoke firmly. I didn’t like being told I couldn’t do something, even if it was for my own good.
Marcus leveled me with an icy stare. “You had over a century of training; you’re not coming with me, and that’s final!”
The clock chimed eleven.
“You’d better get ready; you have less than an hour,” he announced smugly.
I growled mentally. I threw the red dress back in the closet, not even bothering to hang it up, and stomped to the bathroom. I turned around to see Marcus beaming like the Cheshire cat. Foolishly, he thought he’d won.
“This conversation is not over,” I said with authority as I slammed the bathroom door shut.