Chapter 9: Omens and Portents and Dreams, Oh My!
AN: I know, I know, it's been a while. Don't yell at me for it. I've been beating the crap out of this chapter for about a month and have finally made enough progress to move on to the next. Whew. This was by far the hardest chapter to write in this story so far, and maybe even the hardest of both stories together. Everything had to lead to a certain point, yadda yadda yadda. I won't bore you with the details of my battles with trying to get my muse to let me have more than a sentence at a time. Let it suffice to say that I won, barely. And now, on with the drama.
Meanwhile, in the house of the town baker, Destiny was putting her kids to bed, not an easy task as the kids were telepathically picking up on her own stress. She hoped that Van Helsing would just go away, or that he wouldn't find them even if he did look. She hadn't picked the most likely or the least likely of hiding places, or the middle, but rather, the hiding place that was just a few away from being the least likely place to hide.
She kissed Kassia on the forehead and went to the other room the baker had made available to her, where she lay down and fell into an uneasy sleep.
It was dark all around, the light of the moon visible through the treetops not reaching down to where Destiny stood on a dirt path, all alone and confused. Something moved in the trees behind her. Its movements were silent, but she could sense it stalking her. Dream-instinct told her to run, so run she did, taking off like a bullet down the path, her feet pounding the earth and her hair streaming out behind her like a pale banner.
Common sense kicked in right about then and Destiny abandoned the obvious route of escape, forsaking the path for the relative safety of the trees. Dream-time plays trick with your mind, and she felt like she'd been running forever, though it had probably only been a few minutes. Why couldn't she stop running? That's right…why couldn't she?
Destiny skidded to a halt in the middle of a clearing and spun to face her pursuer.
It was Van Helsing as she had last seen him the night her secret had been divulged, coat dirty, weapons handy. He took a step towards her, his hand outstretched.
"Destiny, what –" the lines of his figure blurred and shifted as Van Helsing morphed –
"What are you running from?"
– into Dracula.
Destiny scowled at him. "I'm not running from you, if that's what you mean."
Dracula looked amused. "You're not? How nice. So the last eleven years' absence was just a vacation?"
"That's not what I meant. I'm running from you, just not at this moment, except that I am…what I meant is…oh, you know what I mean!" She stomped her foot in exasperation.
They stood in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other. Finally, Dracula broke the staring contest.
"So, how is the family?" he asked, rather snidely. "Been anywhere interesting lately?"
Patches of pink bloomed on Destiny's cheeks. "Don't you patronize me!" she snapped.
"But, in a sense, I'm your patron my dear," Dracula remarked mildly.
Glaring at him, she retorted, "You're more like a cat playing with a mouse, going 'I'm not going to kill you yet…I'm not going to kill you yet…'. I resent being the mouse!"
"A mouse? You? There's nothing mousy about you, except for your size."
Destiny went to slap him, but he caught her hand easily and planted a light kiss on her palm. She tried to pull her hand away, but could not break his grip. Planting another kiss on her palm, he then moved to the inside of her wrist and began working his way up the inside of her forearm. Destiny's eyelids slowly closed, but only for the briefest of moments before she shook herself free of the spell he was weaving around her.
Yanking her hand away, she smacked him, and this time the blow landed squarely across his face. She could see a faint hand-shaped red mark bloom on Dracula's cheek.
Maybe I shouldn't have done that. But the thought was ephemeral and vanished as quickly as it had come. She glared Dracula through narrowed eyes.
"Haven't we been over this before?" she demanded. "I hate it when you try to mentally influence me, and besides, it usually doesn't work for very long anyway. Now get out of my dream and leave me alone."
Dracula stayed right where he was and, infuriatingly, merely quirked an eyebrow. "Come now," he said in mock reproof. "I cannot visit you?"
"No visits for eleven years and then twice in one month?" she retorted. "You might want to be careful, or someone might get the notion that you actually cared."
Dracula opened his mouth to respond, but Destiny couldn't hear a word he was saying. A roaring sound filled her ears, as if there were a whirlwind around her. The forest and Dracula dissolved into grey mist. There was power coming from somewhere; she could feel it like an ache at the base of her skull, getting more intense every moment.
Who is that screaming? the cool, detached part of her mind wondered. The screams, she realized, were coming from her own throat. A blindingly bright light burst into being in front of where she knelt and Destiny had to shade her eyes with both hands to make out, barely, the outline of a person at the center of the light.
The light suddenly dimmed to a mere glow, and Destiny was finally able to see who else had invaded her dream. Why couldn't she just sleep in peace? She tried pushing the person out of her mind. The image wavered, but held. Looking up to see just who was so persistent in their wish to disturb her, Destiny's eyes widened. She felt like she was looking at a male version…of herself.
He was tall with a lean, rather than muscular, frame. Large, white, feathered wings sprouted from his back, framing the length of his body until they reached the floor. Barefoot and dressed only in white pants, he seemed unabashed at standing in front of her half-naked. As if amused by her scrutiny, he raised an eyebrow at her and brushed a strand of his shoulder-length white hair out of his icy eyes with his pinky. The gesture was so reminiscent of Dracula that Destiny shuddered.
"Well, here you are," he remarked mildly.
Destiny did not bother masking her surprise. "Here I am?" She pondered the meaning of that simple phrase. There was a connection between her and this other angel, for an angel he undeniably was. She just wasn't sure what the connection was.
"Yes, I've been looking for you. For one who was once a mortal, you are surprisingly tricky to track down. And even now that I've made contact with you, your location eludes me."
"Whoa, hold on a second. You've been tracking me? You know I was once mortal? How do –"
He silenced her by putting a finger to his lips. "You have a pretty strong mind, and it will probably take a little while for me to physically locate you, but I will come." H turned to go.
"Wait!" Destiny cried, trying to stall his departure so that she could find out more of what he was about. "I…I don't even know your name!"
"Ambrose," he said simply, and left.
Destiny shot up in her tiny bed at the baker's, her pupils dilated wide in the darkness. Cold sweat beaded her forehead and temples. Something in her dream had bothered her, but she couldn't remember…
An angel. There had been an angel named Ambrose in her dream. An angel named Ambrose that was looking for her; had been looking for her for who knows how long. An angel she felt a connection to…
Destiny shook her head violently, effectively clearing all thoughts from her mind. She would try to figure it all out at a later time. Right now, she wanted some good, old-fashioned, uninterrupted sleep.
AN: Hmm, who do you think Ambrose is? What role will he play in this story? (I know already, but you don't, so I'll laugh. Heehee.) Please review! I live off of reviews. Any flames will be used to dry out my clothes after this rainstorm over my house finishes.