Criminal Beware: The Lykanos Chronicles 1

Chapter Eighteen

The sound didn't seize me awake, but instead pulled at me gently, as if it were muddled by a fog. The timber and pitch rose slowly, its fluctuations echoing through the landscape. I stood in a field blazing in moonlight, the textures of the valley floor drawn in lines that reached out before me until they swerved and stopped at foothills in the distance. I looked up to the moon and saw that it was tinged in red, hanging just above the outline of mountains. It illuminated the leaves of the foliage, setting ablaze their dark emerald, the reflections of light achieving an almost violet hue.

The sounds of the night had lessened such that it became unmistakable by the echoes of the shrill ringing that something was approaching me. My body tensed as if preparing to be confronted by the horrible screech as it drew near. But at this moment, I realized I didn't fear whatever was arriving before me. There was not the sharp surge of adrenaline that I always felt when I was in danger. Instead, my limbs were simply preparing to meet whatever dared to draw near.

When my body was ready, my stance surefooted to stare down that which approached, I felt fragments of my vision begin to unravel and fall away from me - wisps of smoke uncoiling to separate and leave me in dull darkness. In those last moments left to me, I looked down at my hands and saw that they were black claws, wet and shining in the crimson moonlight.

An uncontrollable terror invaded me. In a panic, my eyes opened and received the light of the day and the screech of a telephone ringing.

I jolted in bed, immediately shutting my eyes to the light flooding into the room from the morning sky. After an interval of two more seconds came the ringing of a telephone, its shrill vibration arriving in my ears from downstairs through the doors and walls. I didn't know how long it had been ringing, but it stopped altogether just as my mind had collected itself enough to realize where I was. I had been asleep on my stomach and stretched now to relieve the tension in my shoulders caused by the dream, or at least the ringing that had brought me awake.

Turning my head and allowing the light of morning back into my eyes, I felt the dull fatigue that I knew was the remaining effect of the drink. When they could focus better, I saw Gabrielle's raven hair swept loosely around her naked back and realized the light perfume of her skin was still present with me. The night we'd shared came back, flooding me with its sensual fragrances.

It was only a few moments that I allowed myself to luxuriate in these memories before the duties of the day presented themselves to consciousness, and I moved to rise from bed. In the coolness of the room, I realized that I was naked and began to eye the floor to find my clothing, which had been haphazardly cast about. My boxers were on the ground at my feet, a single shoe several feet away from the bed, a sock hanging off the seat of an armchair beside her end of the bed. Mindless, I thought to myself, reaching down to pull on my shorts. I recollected that I'd almost ripped the clothes off of my body in my excitement, taking no pains to at least relegate this moronic self-combustion to one area. Now I had to move gingerly about the foreign bedroom to locate article after article of clothing while attempting to not wake Gabrielle. In my movements, I continued to return to the armchair, where I silently deposited each piece until they were fully assembled, and I could focus on the process of dressing.

When I had my pants on, I sat on the chair to tie my shoes. As I adjusted from one foot to the other, the chair let out a popping crack, and I looked to Gabrielle to see her eyes were open for a moment before closing and she let out a small moan.

"Good morning," I said softly. "I'd stay to help you with breakfast, but I'll barely have enough time to get home and ready for work before I'm late."

I rose from the chair and bent over the bed to kiss her on her cheek. "I'll call you later," I added before letting myself out of her bedroom. I softly made my way down the stairs, through the kitchen and out through the garden to the rear gate. In the dawn light, I saw my automobile waiting for me, casting a long shadow upon the sidewalk.

In moments, I had arrived home and went straight for the kitchen to start the coffee before finding my way to the medicine cabinet in search of aspirin. Sitting down at the table to let my head stop spinning, I waited for the water to boil.

I wasn't prepared to think out what Gabrielle and I had done last night. The episode of seizure or stroke I experienced for moments and then being released from it as if nothing had happened. I must have an allergy to alcohol, I thought, annoyed to think that something I loved to do so much may need to be avoided entirely. My mother had developed an allergy to dairy at my same age, and I recalled her disappointment upon mentioning it to her parents, as if they had something to do with it.

"The Women's Temperance Union would be so proud," I said aloud to myself in disgust. Further, I didn't care to think about what being intimate might mean for our business arrangement. I certainly wasn't yet of a mind to consider how Richardson would take the news if he were to find out. Probably give me a shot in my mouth, I thought.

The notion of venturing out the front door in search of the newspaper lasted for only a moment before I decided that I'd collect it later as I left for work. My eyes didn't want to read anything, much less see what I expected to be printed on the front page about Jackson.

Finding my way to the shower, I allowed the warm water that came through blessedly unfrozen pipes to work its minor magic and bring me too. After simply standing there to feel the sublime warmth comfort my limbs, I reached for the bar of soap and buried it in a washcloth to lather it up. Starting with my head, cleaning my scalp and face, I then moved to my neck. I rubbed my body with the cloth somewhat unconsciously until I withdrew it, feeling a sharp pinch from my upper back at the base of my neck. I rinsed the soap away from the area. Feeling the spot with my fingers, I came across a large area of raised skin. I drew my finger back to observe that the spot was not bleeding, and made a point to baby the area as I continued washing.

When I'd finished and had dried off, I made to position a hand mirror, angled just so, to see my back in the wall mirror. The irritated spot proved to be four rather large scratches that ran several inches over the muscles of my back shoulders. It the center of each scratch was an unpleasantly deep gash where the skin had been sliced through.

"Christ," I said slowly.

There had obviously been bleeding, though the slices were now left to be merely irritated. Finding my soiled clothes, I confirmed that there were only minor droplets of blood on my undershirt that hadn't transferred to the stiff white cotton of my dress shirt.

Searching the bathroom, I also confirmed there were no bandages to be found. I expected the wound wouldn't bleed again if properly dried. Hopefully, I would heal well enough without being treated, but after shaving and dressing my hair with a small dab of pomade, I soothed the skin of my upper back with hand cream.

We must've had some night if I hadn't noticed that before this morning, I thought to myself.

I maintained my decision to avoid unrolling the newspaper all the way down the hill to the hotel, enjoying the wind in my face as it helped the coffee to bring me out of my headache. When I eventually arrived at work, later than I had wanted to, I successfully managing a dozen 'good morning's to people as I made my way into my office. After only ten minutes of silence, Vanessa buzzed me to say that my first appointment of the day had arrived. I stood up, slapped my face, shook my head, and rallied to greet whomever I was entirely unprepared to receive.