Act Two Chapter Eleven - Yesterday When I Was Mad

Michael pulled up in the Falcon. The werewolves looked on warily, wondering who this new interloper might be, but Boar moved to the lead to calm them. Paul, for his part, was also curious. Why would Michael come here?

Michael disembarked without a word and moved to the trunk of the car. He opened it up and pulled out the limp form of Kathleen. Paul surged forward in anger and concern.

“What have you done?”

“What we had to do.” Said Michael firmly. “There is no harm here that will not heal in time.”

“You son of a…” Paul took a swing.

Michael dropped Kathleen and, in a deft move, grabbed Paul’s fist. He yanked him off balance and twisted his arm around his back before slamming him hard against the car. “Boar tells me you’re getting stronger, but you are still no match for me. Don’t push it, Paul. Ernie took her again…somehow. She tracked Sarah and I down and attacked us.”

“So you did this to her.”

“Would you have preferred we kill her? We could have quite easily. But no, like you, I have no interest in harming her. She’s more victim than villain. We all know that.” Michael let Paul go.

Paul’s face remained hard and angry, but he made no more hostile moves towards Michael. He had to concede Michael was right; It would have been easy for Michael and Sarah together to end Kathleen for good, yet here she was, torpid but alive. Michael leaned down to pick up Kathleen’s limp form. Paul moved to help.

“Where do you hide from the sun?” Michael asked. “We’ll take her there.”

Paul led Michael across the camp to the old rundown mini-van they used to hide the day away. Its back windows were curtained and there were two old body bags in the back. Michael and Paul together laid Kathleen’s unmoving body into one and zipped it up tight.

“I’m sorry this had to happen, but we have got to get a handle on things with her.” Michael explained as Paul closed the back gate on the van.

“Attacking you doesn’t make sense.” Said Paul. “She’s obsessed. Wants to claim you, not kill you.”

“It wasn’t her. It was Ernie, that was very clear. And his goal was to claim me. He just chose a more violent path this time.”

“I doubt she was much match for you, especially if I’m not.”

“No, when Ernie possesses her, it is his strength we face. And as I’m discovering, his reputation is well-earned. He is formidable. Thankfully, he underestimated Sarah. She intervened and drove him out of Kathleen. Unfortunately, this time doing so fired Kathleen’s brain. As I said, nothing she won’t recover from in time. It should only be a few days.”

“What happens when she wakens?”

“That’s where you come in. I know you care about her. I know you’re attracted to her. It’s time we put that to use.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“Enough with the chivalry for the time being, Paul. Ernie preys on the darkest thoughts in her mind. She believes that she is ugly, that she is unworthy, that she is unlovable, and Ernie exploits that to manipulate her and make her more vulnerable to his powers. But you, who genuinely find her attractive, who sincerely care for her, could start to unravel those beliefs.”

“She doesn’t want me. She wants you.”

“Only because of Ernie. Yes, I slept with her…once. Sarah and everyone else have let me have it over how stupid that was and they’re right because it gave Ernie everything he wanted. Convinced her that the only person that would love her is me. But you could contradict that. You could give her another option. But you’re going to have to be forceful with it. Pushy.”

“I won’t rape her.”

“I didn’t ask you to. That’s quite a bit more extreme than what I’m proposing. But you may find that you’ll have to choke off some of her choices, force her to see you as an alternative to me. Make her realize that there are others who can and do love her for who she is. That’s going to take being a lot more convincing with her than this passive lamenting of your fate that you seem so content to do right now. You’re invisible. Stop being so.”

Paul chuckled. “This sounds vaguely like the advice Boar’s been giving my sister about her new boyfriend.”

“Yeah, Boar’s kept me up to date. Congratulations, by the way. I’m glad you found her.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t quite the reunion I was expecting.”

“Boar’s kept me up to date about that too. Yeah, I can see the parallel you do.” Michael’s voice took on a sympathetic tone. “I know you want her. This is your chance to win her.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Flings are easy, and as a Daeva I have plenty of those. But what you want isn’t a fling. You want something real and that takes work. Sarah and I have hit more roadblocks than I care to count and overcoming each one has taken a lot of work. If you want something like that with Kathleen, you’ve got to fight for it. It’s past time you started that fight, Paul. And just think, if you win…”

Paul smiled and nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Honestly, Paul, it’s not just about you. It’s also about saving her. None of us want her a slave to Ernie, Kathleen included. She deserves better than that.”

---

Mitch tried to focus on his studies. The events of the past few days, with Kathleen and Ernie and the Malleus and Trisha, had him distracted. He fumbled through the new spell he was trying to learn for the fourth time. He dropped down to his knees in frustration.

Martin was standing on the opposite side of the room with a smirk on his face. He’d long since moved on to the next lesson. Fine, let him enjoy a brief moment of triumph. Mitch was the more skilled and the more experienced and that showed in their lessons with Professor Murray. Mitch nearly always mastered new magic faster than Martin. Let him be a little smug then. This small victory, one time when Martin could be better than Mitch, wouldn’t hurt anything.

“Focus, Mitch.” Said Murray. “Our style of magic may not require the strict discipline of thought and will as other paths, but you cannot succeed without a little focus. Your mind is elsewhere.”

“It was a rough weekend.” Mitch admitted. He came back to his feet. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m too distracted.”

“We can finish this later. This is Thanksgiving week. The students are heading home for the holiday, so there’ll be plenty of time to work on this stuff. Take a break and I’ll see you tomorrow. Martin, you too. That’s enough for one day.”

Martin walked over to Mitch. “It’s really not that hard, Mitch. You’ll get it.”

“You’re enjoying this a little too much.” Teased Mitch playfully.

To Mitch’s surprise, Martin frowned at that. There was something off about him today too. He was not his usual clownish self. There was something darker to him, something angry, and Mitch didn’t know why.

“Come on. Let’s head over to the Hoagie House and get some lunch.” Suggested Mitch. “Anna is probably there waiting for you.”

The two of them headed out the door and across campus towards the Hoagie House. It was just some no name local business that was trying somewhat successfully to compete with Subway. There was good reason for their success. The Hoagie House had some of the best sandwiches in North Philly.

As they made their way towards the restaurant, Mitch spotted Anna across the way. He waved and she saw them in turn. She changed course and moved to intercept them.

“Hey guys.” She said. She gave Mitch a sheepish almost coy look. It was the first time he’d seen her since last week and it was obvious his words about their being nothing but friendship between them had done little to calm her crush on him.

Then his world exploded into stars.

The pavement came rushing up and he barely got his hands beneath him to catch himself. Something had hit him. No, someone! He was under attack.

“You son of a bitch!” That was Martin's voice. A solid kick followed to Mitch’s midsection, sending him flying.

Mitch wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but it was clear now that this was no game. Martin's mysterious anger was directed all at Mitch. For what reason, he didn’t know and now was not the time to wonder. Mitch rolled and came to his feet, taking up a fighting stance.

Martin was many things, but without the element of surprise he was no match for Mitch in a fight. He had no edge on Mitch’s skill and experience in either physical combat or magic. His first blows had taken Mitch unawares, but that advantage was now gone.

Martin came at him again. Mitch wove to and fro, dodging Martin's wild and erratic punches. No discipline, no skill, just frantic swinging, the likes of which Mitch remembered from a few schoolyard brawls of yesteryear. Even if his encounters with the shadow world hadn’t toughened him, Mitch had the same SCA faux-combat training that Michael and Boar had. Dodge, defend, and wait for an opening. He didn’t have to wait long.

One overextended swing later and Mitch had his opening. A quick jab landed his right fist dead center to Martin's face. The blow smashed into his nose and broke it cleanly. The sharp pain took all the fight out of Martin and if it hadn’t, the humiliation of being taken out by a single punch might have. He staggered back and grabbed his face, blood squirting out from between his fingers.

“By blose!” cried Martin, his words distorted by his injury.

Mitch relaxed from his fighting posture. “Are you genuinely that stupid?” was all he could muster as a verbal response to what had just transpired.

“What the hell is going on?” Anna interjected. Her face was distorted with a combination of confusion and rage. Mitch wasn’t entirely sure who she was more angry at, Martin or himself.

“You lept with him.” snarled Martin at Anna, his slurred speech making his accusation more comical than furious.

Now it was Mitch’s turn to be confused, doubly so because of the guilty look that now crossed Anna's face. Then it hit him. “Wait a minute.” He growled. He reached out and placed his hand on Martin's head, muttering an enchantment as he did so.

Images flashed into Mitch’s mind. Backward, backward in time, all viewed through Martin's own eyes. He saw them making love (and noted Anna's naked loveliness for his own fantasies later), then heard Martin mention how his date with Trisha had gone south (that made no sense. Trisha had gone out with Mitch, not Martin), then further back. He saw Martin before a mirror, casting the same physical-transformation spell that had inflated Anna's breasts at the Franklin Institute on himself to take on Mitch’s own likeness. At that, he broke the spell and released Martin's head.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” growled Mitch. “What the hell possessed you to do such a thing?”

“What’s going on?” Anna demanded.

“Your little shitheaded boyfriend copied me. He took my likeness. It wasn’t me you slept with. It was him!”

Anna's jaw dropped in astonishment. “Why?”

“To learn the tooth. How you wanted him more than me.” Still angry and still slurred, Martin now tried to justify himself. It was not working.

“Then why attack me?” growled Mitch.

“To face you away. Make ush more lubble than we’re worth.”

“You were already that.” Grumbled Mitch. “I’ll tell you what I told her. It wasn’t even a month ago now when I made the mistake of coming between a friend and his girlfriend. I was not about to do the same with the two of you and said as much to Anna.”

“He did.” Anna admitted.

“Bo doubt after you probositioned him.”

“For lack of a more delicate way to put it,” Anna answered. “yes. And if you want to know why, I think you’ve given yourself that answer just now.”

Mitch just shook his head. The whole thing was just ludicrous, and for that reason alone, his anger at Martin was quickly fading. He pitied him more than anything, a lonely desperate kid who’d landed a girl he didn't feel he even remotely deserved. And in trying to fend off a perceived threat and prove himself to her, he’d destroyed the very thing he was trying to save. The same novice idiotic mistake Mitch himself might have made at his age.

“What happens now?” he asked the two of them.

“I’m tempted to dump his sorry ass.” Growled Anna. She was still quite angry.

“Blease!” Martin now pleaded, any remaining bluster and bravado gone.

“You could at least fix his damn nose.” Interjected Mitch. His patience with Martin's slurred speech was now at an end.

“Fine. I was tempted to leave it that way. Not as if he doesn’t deserve it.” She reached out and grabbed his broken nose roughly. Martin winced in pain, but Anna muttered off a quick spell that reset his nose and healed the break. It did nothing for the copious amounts of blood on his face, hands, and shirt however.

“Thank you.” Said Martin.

“And?” Mitch emphasized. He felt like a scolding parent.

“I’m sorry.” Said the chastened Martin. “To both of you.”

“No more of this idiocy.” Growled Mitch. He looked at Anna sharply. “That includes you, Anna.”

“What did I do?” Anna now feigned innocence.

“You slept with him thinking he was me. It may not justify what he did, but it does show his jealousy was not completely without merit.”

“I thought he was you. I thought you’d changed your mind about us.”

“And that justifies your betrayal of him in what way?” For reasons even he didn’t quite grasp, Mitch now felt his pity move him into damage-control mode. He was going to save these two fools from their own folly.

Now it was Anna's turn to look chastened. Mitch had his opening and he built upon it. “I may not be your mentors, but if I were them, I’m sure they’d say what I’m about to. This kind of foolishness is not what we need right now. The Brotherhood is on the move. There’s a conspiracy afoot between them and the vampires that we know almost nothing about. The hunters of the Malleus Malificarum and the Ashwood Abbey have already struck at my allies and will likely do so again, all at the bidding of their secret masters. If we are going to survive, let alone triumph over all this, then this kind of squabbling distrust of one another will not do.”

Mitch reached under his coat and drew out his big AMT Hardballer pistol. He checked chamber by partly pulling back the slide The click of the weapon added a nice dramatic effect. “There’s a reason I carry this. The people we are up against play for keeps and unlike my friends, we don’t regenerate.” He then pulled up his t-shirt to reveal some of the scars the werewolves of Roanoke had given him. “This is what they do. So stay together or break up, I don’t care. But I need both of you watching my back and each other’s. We have to trust each other or the next time the Brotherhood or its allies come calling, they’ll do far worse than scar us.”

---

Paul watched from a distance. It was still early evening, but given it was November, it was well after dark. Still, there was plenty of activity on Forbidden Drive, people walking, jogging, and enjoying themselves. But there were two people in particular that had his attention: his sister and her date from Chestnut Hill College, Kyle.

The two of them were walking the trail they normally ran together, taking the time to talk and enjoy their surroundings. Despite being the haunt of werewolves, hunters, and the occasional vampire or mage, Fairmount Park did have a serenity to it, a calm the oblivious mortals were clearly enjoying.

The pair paused outside The Cedars House, a cafe on the far northern end of the park. It was closed for the day, but that hadn’t kept a number of people from using the area around it to pause and rest from whatever activity had brought them to the park that evening.

Paul listened in more intensely now that they had stopped.

“So, date #2.” teased Kyle somewhat nervously. Kyle was not what Paul had expected. He was athletic, but awkward. Good looking, but somewhat shy. He looked the part of a real tough character, with tribal style tattoos on both arms, but he was gentle and soft-spoken. He was also black, a detail Boar had failed to mention (which, Paul had to concede, probably wasn’t much of a surprise. Boar himself was black, so why would he make note of it in another?)

“Yeah,” Janice answered, not quite knowing what to do next.

Kyle sat down next to her on the stone wall outside the Cedars, but said nothing more. The look on his face was one of confusion, as if he wasn’t sure where to take their conversation now that they’ve stopped walking.

“You’re not quite what I expected.” Janice admitted.

“I’m always a fish out of water.” said Kyle, now grateful to have their talk continue. “Inner city kid. Raised by my mama. Surrounded by gangs and drug dealers. I started working out because I wanted the thugs to leave me alone. Got these tattoos to look tough, but that’s just not me. It’s all a trick to get people to leave you be. You got to pretend or they’ll eat you alive. Problem is it worked too well. Now when you get a nice scholarship for track and end up at some high-and-mighty rich person school like Chestnut Hill, all them white folk are really scared of ya.” He looked at her with some fondness and affection. “You’re the first white person I’ve run into around these parts that’s bothered to try to get to know me.”

“I suppose it helps that when I see you, I don’t see tough. I see cute.”

Kyle smiled. “I’ll take it.”

“Me too.” She smiled at him back. There was a long awkward pause before Janice took the initiative and darted in to kiss him.

Paul scowled from his nearby hiding place, but even he had to admit there was something sweet and pure about the two of them. It was all so innocent, a far cry from the dark world he’d come to inhabit. Paul felt a bit of envy too. Janice was very much a part of that dark world, a werewolf of Boar’s pack, yet here she was able to have a moment of purity and innocence with Kyle. Paul would never have that, not with Kathleen or anyone else.

But even for Janice, it was not to last.

Two figures were coming down the trail, jogging. Both were dressed in designer sweats. Everything about them stunk of money. That wasn’t all that unusual; Chestnut Hill was one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Philadelphia. Nothing about them stood out, except for the sudden attention they gave the white girl and black boy kissing on the stone wall outside Cedars.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” One of them called out, drawing tons of attention to himself. Paul scowled again. This was 1998. There was nothing unusual or inappropriate about two people of different races romantically involved, but this ass apparent thought otherwise.

Embarrassed, the two love birds broke off their kiss and looked at the interloper. “Really?” said the second jogger. “Weston, don’t you recognize her?”

“No.”

“She’s one of the camp tramps. One of those worthless little parasites that lives in the park with all the other homeless trash.”

Weston leaned in to get a better look at Janice. “I believe you’re right. Tell me, where are the rest of your rat friends? Is this one of them too?”

“What’s your problem, man?” said Kyle. He might not be the tough guy inside, but he could play the part and play it well. He stood up and puffed himself up, trying to get between Weston and Janice.

“Out of the way, nigger.” snarled Weston. He drew a pistol from a concealed holster on his back and pistol whipped Kyle to the ground. “We’re going to have some fun with your little rat girlfriend.”

These were no ordinary rich-prick joggers. The gun, their use of the word “rat” to refer to Janice, spoke volumes to Paul. These were Abbey hunters and they were praising their good fortune at having stumbled onto a lone werewolf separate from her pack.

“Your turn, sweetheart.” said Weston. Several things then happened at once.

Paul burst out of his hiding place and rushed towards the group. Janice let out a guttural growl, a sound no human normally made, and immediately morphed into the massive battle-form of the werewolf. The nervous onlookers around the Cedars who had been cautiously watching now panicked and ran as Lunacy took hold.

Weston stepped back, trying to put some distance between himself and the 8 foot tall snarling wolf-beast before him. It was no good. Janice swiped downward with her right hand, her claws rending through flesh and bone, gouging Weston from shoulder to hip. Blood and viscera sprayed everywhere.

Weston’s partner was out of reach of Janice. He now drew his gun in a panic, but failed to notice Paul’s oncoming charge. Paul grabbed his pistol hand and then fired a hard backhand across the hunter’s face. The impact of a super-strong vampire fist pulverized bone and teeth. The second hunter crumpled in a heap.

Janice growled at Paul and advanced on him. “Janice,” Paul barked. “It’s me. Your brother.”

She stopped mid-step. The wolf inside her had not robbed her completely of her reason. She immediately morphed back to human form. “I could have handled this.” she growled, her voice still more wolf than girl.

To her surprise, he answered. “I don’t doubt it. But still, we’ve got two bodies to dispose of before the cops get called by all those panicked witnesses.”

Janice turned back to Kyle, who was lying senseless on the ground, leaving her brother alone to the task of cleaning up the mess. Paul hoisted the brutalized bodies of the hunters onto his shoulders and made back for the treeline. He dumped the bodies in the nearby Wissahickon Creek and then quickly returned.

When he got back, Janice had Kyle back on his feet. Paul resumed his perch as hidden observer, watching and listening.

“What happened? Is that blood? Are you hurt?” said Kyle as he shook off his daze.

“Yes, it’s blood, but I’m fine. Somebody came with a gun and chased them off. He hit one of them. I got splattered, but I’ll be alright. How are you?” Janice’s story was a decent lie, but would fall apart pretty easily if Kyle cared to check. There was no smell of gunpowder in the air, no shell casings on the ground, and far too much blood on Janice’s clothes to represent anything but a lethal bullet wound that no one would run away from. But Kyle didn’t seem inclined to question the evidence (or lack thereof) before him.

“I’ve got a bump on my head,” he answered her, “but I think I’ll be okay.”

“That was really brave what you did.” said Janice. “Standing up to them.”

“Assholes.” he snarled. “Who the fuck cares about...” He was really angry and upset. “And what the hell did they mean calling you a camp tramp and a rat for anyway?”

“You’re right.” she argued gently. “Who cares? What they think doesn’t matter.”

“I just get so tired of people treating me like shit all the time.”

“I don’t.” she pleaded quietly.

“No,” he conceded. “You don’t.” He began to calm down. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. The cops are going to come looking for people who saw what happened and with you covered in blood and me as a black guy...well, we really don’t want to get involved in all that. My dorm’s not that far from here. Let’s get your cleaned up.”

Janice nodded and followed after him.

---

Paul waited patiently at the outskirts of camp. It was now well after midnight and things in the werewolf camp had begun to settle down. Boar was with Natasha, Cortez was snoring in his tent, and Kathleen was still in torpor. Normally, that would worry Paul, but he had other priorities tonight.

Janice came out of the brush, wearing sweats that were obviously borrowed. Kyle was a good bit bigger than her, so his clothing was not an easy fit. Paul sniffed the air, and while his enhanced sense of smell was not quite to werewolf level, he could still smell Kyle all over her. It wasn’t just the clothes either.

Janice saw him and stopped cold. Paul walked over.

“So, mission accomplished?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she admitted. After a moment, she added. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not. I learned some things tonight. One, he’s a good guy. You were right. That was awfully brave of him to stand up to those two hunters, even if he didn’t know precisely what they were. Two, you sure as hell don’t need me to protect you anymore. I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified of you after what you did to that guy, but you’re one hell of a fighter.” He paused. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have been spying on you, but...”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” she agreed firmly, but then softened. “I knew you were there all along, but, in the end, I’m glad you were. Could I have taken those two hunters myself? Yeah, probably. But they had guns and probably silver bullets. With you there, Kyle and I both escaped without harm. Thanks.”

The two siblings smiled at one another for the first time since they’d been reunited. Janice continued. “If I’d been hurt, things would have gone very differently with Kyle and me tonight. Hero that he pretends to be, he would have rushed me to the hospital or something. Instead, I ended up in his room and well...you’ve already guessed what happened after that.”

Paul chuckled. “You’re not my kid sister anymore.”

“No, I’m still your sister. Just not a kid.”

“Truce?” Paul extended his hand.

“Truce.” Janice took him in hand and then yanked him into a hug.

---

Kathleen awoke with a scream. The images of her torpid dreams seared in her mind, she awoke into darkness. She reached out, only to feel the enveloping presence of nylon cloth. She was inside a bad, a body bag. Desperate, she began to fumble around for the zipper. She had to get out!

The bag came open before she could find the zipper. Her eyes focused on Paul and Boar.

“You’re awake.” Paul exclaimed. His face was a mix of relief and joy.

“It was horrible.” Kathleen spoke. Her voice sounded strange to her, like it was not her own. “I dreamed. I dreamed there were dozens of me. Hundreds and we all locked in mortal combat with one another. Each of us strangling, killing, murdering each other. I was the strongest. I killed. I killed so many. But then I faced her. I wasn’t the strongest. She was. She took hold of me. I felt my life slipping away…”

“Kathleen,” Boar drew her focus to him. “It was a dream. Michael says they happen when you vampires go into torpor. It’s normal.”

“Yeah,” said Paul. “Scary as it was, it’s gone now. You’re back with us.”

Kathleen burst into tears. Paul pulled her to him, holding her until the fear and disorientation past. Boar left them alone and wandered off.

“You’ll be alright.” Paul said soothingly. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.” He held her tight. She liked the way that felt. His arms about her.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She admitted.

“And I’m glad you’re okay. That you’re awake again. Michael said it wouldn’t be long, but still felt like forever.”

Then Paul did something she did not expect. He pushed her back and moved on top of her. At first, it was alarming. It was smothering. He was everywhere, around her, crushing her. She pushed against him, trying to get some room between them. But he took her by the wrists and pushed her hands down to her side. It was forceful, but gentle at the same time.

“Paul, what are you...” she began. But then she felt his lips on her neck. Nuzzling her, gentle kisses, tracing a trail up to her jaw, and then finding her own lips. His kisses were hungry and eager. He moved from her mouth to her cheek, moving towards her ear and then back to her neck. As he did so, she could feel the dampness of his cheeks. He’d been crying too.

“I can’t bear it anymore.” he whispered in her ear. “I was so scared for you…when he brought you to me limp and unmoving. It was like you were dead. I thought I would die inside when I saw that. I was so scared. I didn’t…”

“Paul…” she began to speak, but he continued, cutting her off.

“We’ve been through so much. How many times now have we nearly died? How many near misses have we had? What will happen when it isn’t a miss? I can’t…” There was a desperate urgency in his voice, so overwhelming he couldn’t quite articulate what he wanted to say.

“Paul, it’s okay.” She said. Now she found herself reassuring him. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” he asked. “You disappear. You go to him and he turns you into his puppet. Always so you can go to Michael. So you can try one more time to be his. You’re a slave to your obsession, an obsession forced upon you by your mad sire. I’m always here, but you can’t see me. You can’t see how much I want you.”

She felt him fumble with his belt, his pants. Freed from confinement, his erection pressed hard into her thighs. Was he going to rape her? No, he went no further. He merely nuzzled against her neck again, as if waiting for her to take the next move.

And she did. His body atop hers was less smothering now and more comforting, like a warm and heavy blanket on a cold night. She reached down and pushed down her sweatpants, underwear and all.

Paul sensed what she was doing and helped, pushing them further down her thighs.

She opened her legs; an invitation. His hardness found her and he thrust inside her.

My God, he was big, She felt like she was going to burst as he pushed his way into her. But burst was what he did. He thrust inside maybe twice before he erupted. All his frustration and hunger for her came out all at once in one massive voluminous orgasm.

He pulled back hurriedly. His withdraw was sudden and the loss of his warmth in the cold November night a shock. But his actions were not born of triumph, having taken her at long last. No, there was a frightened humiliation to him now. Their first time together was not a epic marathon of passionate sex, but a hurried and premature eruption born of frustration and fear. Paul wanted to escape. To run away. He was embarrassed. 

She grabbed his hand. “No,” she whispered insistently. “No.” She wrapped her calves, still bound by her half-removed pants, around his ankles, trapping him in place. “No.” she said again. “Stay...please.” Her free hand reached up around his waist, and gently but commandingly pushed him back down to her. “Stay the day.” she said. “Stay and when sunset comes, you can have me again and again.”

---

The sea air felt wonderful against Michael’s skin. So too did the bright sunlight. It was a great day to be at sea. A great day to be on the water.

Michael slowly became aware that he was dreaming, but he went with it. To experience daylight again was a privilege, even if it was just a conjuring of his subconscious, and he was not going to squander the joy of it. The warmth of the sun was his again.

“The gold should be here.” Said one of the boat’s crew. “Drop anchor.”

Michael looked about. The boat was a salvage trawler, building to dig up whatever had sunk to the bottom of the waters. And it wasn’t the sea he was on (at least not anymore) but a river. Again, the mind plays tricks on itself in dreams, but Michael didn’t care.

The crew began to work, hauling up gold bar after gold bar. It seemed too easy, but then again, it was a dream and drudgery and hard work were not usually something that dreams dwelt on. But Michael’s instincts were not off. It was too easy. Someone else wanted that gold.

“Begone, thieves!” The wizard demanded, walking across the water like Jesus. “Begone or face my wrath.” Even though he’d never laid eyes on him before, Michael somehow knew instinctively this was Emmanuel Noble who challenged them.

“Do your worst.” Snarled Michael defiantly. He was not about to let the monster who’d raped his Sarah have anything of their treasure.

“So be it.” Noble began an incantation, calling forth out of the Pit all manner of fiery demons. But as each stepped out of the portals that drew them forth from hell, they hit the water and vanished in a puff of steam, their fire extinguished.

Michael laughed in mockery. What a fool, summoning beasts of flame and fire into a river.

“You have not seen the last of me.” Noble disappeared.

“I should try that the next time I DM a Dungeons and Dragons game.” Michael joked. “I am the all-powerful dark wizard. Prepare to face my polar bear in the desert. And the bear keels over from heat exhaustion. Or face my lion of the jungle here in the arctic and it freezes to death.”

The crew did not seem to find the humor in that. Oh, well…

They hauled the gold from a truck onto a handcart. How they’d suddenly gotten there, Michael neither knew nor cared. They pushed the handcart down a long twisted passage of stone. “This secret passage leads into the Academy. The headmaster is a long time ally. He will protect us.” Said the boat captain.

“Dumbledore is good for that.” Michael joked again and again, no one laughed. Guess these folks weren’t Harry Potter fans anymore than they were D&D fans.

As they emerged from the passage, Michael and the others made ready to unload the cart when a group of men emerged from a nearby building. They were armed and opened fire immediately. Several of the salvage crew were gunned down instantly, the rest dove for cover and returned fire.

Michael drew his gun and opened up. But they kept coming. More than they could handle. He ran out of ammo and called for more. None came. The crew were too tied up with fighting or dying to help. Michael grabbed the rifle of a fallen ally. Click! No bullets. He tossed it away and began scrounging for another. One by one, his allies fell before the onslaught.

Michael found a weapon that was loaded. He raised it up and fired it without aiming or thinking. The foe before him slumped to the ground. It was a woman. It was Evangeline. He gasped and dropped his weapon.

The leader of the thugs emerged. “You are alone.” He said. It was Prince Walsh. “All you’ve done has come to naught.” Michael looked about. The crew of the salvage boat, his allies, were all gone. All dead.

Walsh waited patiently for Michael to look about. When Michael’s attention returned to the Prince, he spoke a single phrase. “Finish him.” The thugs’ guns roared to life.

Then Michael woke up with a scream.

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