A dream, not a dream, does it matter? He whispered, and lifted his head. Let it go, open yourself to us. While the others…while the others…what?
A scream tore through the air—but it wasn’t filled with pain or torture. It was desire trapped, and ecstasy found. It was me…me, lips, fingers…hard bodies, legs entwined, hands searching, lips sucking…my breasts, my mouth…it was their eyes—their gaze, intent, focused on me.
While the others, Pestilence murmured, and rocked his hips harder while the vision raged.
Shadows of his hood slipped from his chin, and there were those lips—those perfect lips. He lowered his head, and this time the touch was real, warm, soft, demanding, taking my mouth, taking his time. His hard chest crushed mine. Hands drifted, skimming my arm, touching the groove of my elbow—finding the tracks I tried to hide.
But I couldn’t hide from him.
I couldn’t hide from any of them.
I wrenched my head to the side. Rage burned, carving a river to my soul. “Don’t…” the word was raw, and husky, seeped with sex and desire… “Don’t you dare fucking touch me. I’m coming for all of you. I have a Calling…a Calling from God.”
Those perfect lips curled, and I was drawn to the red smudge in the corner—the heat—the marks left from my lips on his. His hand slipped from the nape of my neck, as he took a step away.
I had him then. I had all of them. “You brought me here because you think I’m weak, to show me what I was. Just a druggie, right? Just a user…that’s what you meant, isn’t it? To use and be used? You think you can break me? Think I’m not strong enough to hunt you down like the fucking demons you are!”
My lips ached. My body ached. Nipples hardened with rage, I wanted to tell myself. But the heat from my anger travelled, slipping like a lover’s touch between my thighs.
They stood in silence as Pestilence shook his head.
“I know why I’m here now…why God brought me to these people. It’s to help them…to find a cure.” Kenya’s face filled my mind. The lab, the Calling. The more real these people felt, the surer I became.
Harlow…the beast in front of me murmured and the vision waned, blending darkness into reality. The red emergency light faded, as did the filthy bathroom stall.
I didn’t want to hear from him. Not from any of them. I wanted out of this dream—out of this world. Warm tears slipped along my cheeks.
Could you feel things like that in a dream?
Harlow, he whispered as the soft brush on my lips came again. Don’t leave…don’t…
Bedsprings creaked. The sound pulled me into the present. Panic thundered with the faint sound of galloping horses as the creak came again. The day came to me in a rush…the harbor…the church…the Calling, and Kenya.
I cracked my eyes open to stare into the night and sucked in a hard breath. Feet hit the floor from the direction of Kenya’s bunk and soft footsteps echoed, but not heading to the bathroom—heading out to the hall.
Follow her, the thought filled me. Follow her now.
I lifted my head, to stare into the gloom. The weak lights from the hallway spilled in, barely lightening the darkness. But I could make her out as she slipped along the hallway, heading towards the front door, and the lab.
I eased a foot over the side. I rose from the pillow, stomach muscles quivering as the bed gave a groan. Cold kissed my toes as I hit the floor and rose. Instinct screamed at me to follow. I wanted to lie down. I wanted to trust. But wanting something in this world and it happening is two very different beasts.
A soft snore stilled across the room as I stepped away from the bed and headed for the door. I gripped the edge and pushed. I clenched my jaw, waiting for the howl of a hinge, and stepped out into the weak overhead lights. The hallway was quiet, too quiet.
There were no calls from the owls, no howl of a wolf, nothing but an insulated emptiness as I stared into the gloom. The door. I turned right and headed for the door. Was she meeting someone? Was she hiding something?
I left behind no sound as I stared at the end of the hall. A flashlight bounced around, splashing underneath the door to my left…the lab. I stopped at the side, watching through the small glass window as Kenya moved through the room.
She was hunched over, rifling through papers, looking for something. But what was so damn important she had to get up in the middle of the night?
I scanned the darkness behind me, and where the Hell was Kris?
She stilled, wrenched her head toward the door. The torchlight wavered, reaching out into the hallway. My heart lunged and I took a step backwards. It wasn’t the right time to be prying. My bare feet skidded on the slick floor as I turned and made my way back to the bunkroom.
The cozy, warm-hearted feeling was gone, something else replaced it. Something akin to confusion, and fear. Why hide? Why get up in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep.
I gripped the door to the bedroom and eased it closed behind me. That fist clenched tighter as I lay back down on my bed. Pitt gave a soft chuff as I rolled over and lay on my side. I stared into nothing, while my mind raced.
Seconds, minutes passed…or it could’ve been hours, until the bedroom door slid open, and then closed. I deepened my breaths as the dark outline stilled at Kenya’s bed and then slid under the sheets.
This place wasn’t so perfect. Not so neat. There were secrets here, cold, dark secrets that Kenya wanted to remain hidden…
The thought raced, blending with an urgency I felt in my veins.
She wanted them hidden not just from me, but from the others, as well. That alone spoke volumes.
The desperation lingered, tightening my belly, making the veins along my temples pulse. I closed my eyes, willed sleep to come, and prayed for the dreams to stay away.
8
I saw in the right hand of Him who sat on the throne a book written inside and on the back, sealed up with seven seals. And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the book and break its seals?”
I stared at the words in the murky light. The fine paper crumpled under my fingers, and stuck to the tips as I ran my fingers along the seam.
Was this me? Was I the angel? The one to hold, to carry…to find and fight. Angel. The word, bolded, it felt bolded—it felt me. I stared at the blur of words, touching, feeling, but not in my fingers…inside in my heart, in my spirit.
“Whatcha reading there?”
A shadow descended as Kenya leaned close. I hadn’t heard her, hadn’t heard a thing. Not soft snores, not the creak of a bed. The book consumed me, held me—took me away from this place to the real reason I was here.
I turned toward her and whispered. “Revelations.”
“You know, a preacher came through here not long ago.” She murmured, and knelt beside the bed. “He spoke about Revelations. Said the horsemen weren’t just coming. Said they were already here. Can you imagine that? Kinda makes sense, though…if you believe that kind of thing.”