A Vial of Life (A Shade of Vampire, #21)

Then the sky darkened, as if God Himself had flicked a light switch. There was no moon or stars in the sky and the only light seemed to be emanating from the sea. It had turned a bright green, almost neon color, and it glowed eerily. Heads of seven giant serpents reared from the water, hissing and flashing white fangs. The couple were fixed to the spot, too stunned to duck out of the way before—


“No, no!” The old man’s gruff voice shattered the vision. I opened my eyes. He was shaking his head angrily. “That was a black dream! We don’t want to live in those. Close your eyes again and we’ll search for a good one.”

A black dream, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes again. A nightmare. So, somehow, ghosts are able to intercept dreams. Yet another new thing I’d learned about this spirit existence.

We weren’t waiting as long for the next vision. It emerged quickly in my mind. A beautiful poppy-scattered meadow, through which ran a pure white horse, ridden by… an ogre—the smallest ogre I had ever seen. It must have been a child. A boy. He wore a shiny metal chest plate and a gem-studded helmet, and strapped to his short, chubby legs were silver knee guards. A sword dangled from his belt—a sword so large it was almost as tall as him. He rode across the meadow with practiced grace, then guided the steed into a forest. They whipped through the trees until they reached a clearing, at the end of which lay a steep drop.

Even as the horse approached the edge of the cliff, still the child didn’t slow it down. If anything the steed sped up. And then, with one giant leap, the horse launched off the cliff into a terrifying freefall. The boy’s hands dug into his steed’s neck, and just as the two were about to collide with the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, a pair of magnificent wings sprouted from the horse’s back. Wings that beat hard and fast until the horse soared with the ogre high in the clear blue sky. The child gasped with pleasure as he beheld an entire world sprawled out beneath him—trees, lakes, hills…

I opened my eyes and shook my head.

Enough of this.

I looked at the old man. His eyes were still closed, and his face was… almost unrecognizable. His sour, scowling demeanor had vanished, and his face had lit up. He swayed gently from side to side, as if hypnotized, so taken by the fantasy of some ogre child sleeping within one of the rooms of the guest house.

I needed to interrupt him, but I felt almost bad to burst the bubble of happiness this otherwise miserable man appeared to be in. I wondered whether he lived in The Tavern. Whether he haunted this guesthouse corridor every day.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll leave you alone, if you’ll just answer a question.”

He grunted in frustration and when he opened his eyes, his face had resumed its former grumpy look.

“That was a good one!” he fumed, his lips curling. “It’s been three days since I roamed a dream as good as that!”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I wish to leave you alone, as I said. Answer my question, and you can return to the dream.”

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“I’m looking for a gate that will lead me into the human realm. Do you have any idea how I might find one?”

The man’s mouth formed in a hard line, his brows furrowed as he continued glaring up at me. “Hm. There are some ogres who may be able to take you there,” he mumbled.

“Ogres? Which ogres?”

“The ogres who guard the walls of this island. They discovered a gate some miles away and they frequent it together to gather food for themselves. Humans.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

He smiled bitterly at me, and there was a trace of melancholy in his jaded eyes. “When you haunt an island for six hundred years, you know things like this.”

Six hundred years. He’s lived this way for six hundred years.

The thought threw me off, and it took my brain a few seconds to form my next question. “And, uh, do you know the names of the ogres I need to seek out?”

“Just look for Rufus,” he said. “They usually travel in his ship.”

“And do you know how often they go?”

“This is more than one question,” he said, a pained look on his face. “I don’t know how long that dream is going to last, or even that I’ll be able to walk in it again after you scared it off!”

“How often do the ogres go to the human realm?” I insisted, even though I felt bad for it. But I’d realized by now that I had the power to interrupt his pleasure, and unless he gave me what I wanted, there was no reason for me to go away.

“Usually twice a week,” he murmured. “At least.”

“Thank you,” I said. Finally I motioned to turn around, but something kept me rooted to the spot, staring down at the old man curled up on the floor. “May I have your name?”

“Ernest,” he growled. “Now, shoo!”

“Thank you, Ernest,” I replied.

He flicked a hand at me before clamping his eyes shut again. His face scrunched up in concentration, and then, after a few moments, relaxed. The lines in his face smoothed and his expression returned to one of deep peace. I guessed he’d managed to re-immerse himself in the same child’s fantasy. Or perhaps this night had been a lucky one, and he’d found two happy places to lose his aching soul in.





Chapter 7: Ben