Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Medium or any of its related franchises

Plot so far: Allison Dubois witnesses a horrific murder within one of her dreams. Even for her it is a strange dream for the mere fact that it is peculiarly disturbing.

Devalos sat across from her giving off an austere feeling.

"In my dream I was at an outing eating dinner. There was a beautiful woman and a man killed her. She was smiling about it when the knife went through her stomach and later upward. I think it was a sexual killing."

"Allison. I know we have seen some pretty weird stuff, but smiling while being killed. That is just a little out there."

"Look!" she yelled, "This is going to happen. When have I ever been wrong about one of these dreams! It always turns up something in one way or another. And besides! What about the earrings! They had blood on it! They were on her cheek!"

"Fine, we will check that out, I just hope the DNA is still in decent shape after your hands were all over it. I guess this is reason to start an investigation," he replied, obviously defeated. "Do you still remember the faces?"

"As bright as day."

"Then you can give a full description to the sketch artist in the storage room. We'll look it over and see if anything comes out of it."

"Ah! Thank You very much!"

The other was close. So close. Like breath beneath the skin. It agitated it. It made it want to get closer, so closer. Out of all the ones it had seen, this was the most prominent, the greatest, and without a doubt, the strongest!

It sent waves of pleasure cascading through its body at the thought of meeting such a being. Even now, it took all its effort to not pursue the other, to keep at a distance. It watched. It waited. Yet it yearned to play once more with the other. That contact of mind; that contact of power—It was exhilarating beyond anything it had ever felt.

I wonder, it thought to itself, how long I can keep myself from her.

And then it felt it. The feeling reminiscent of a predator cautiously stalking its prey. It could feel it. The other was coming closer now. Not mentally, not psychically, but physically. The feeling could only be described as pure pleasure on its part.

Allison Dubois, I look forward to you solving this one.

Allison exited the elevator. It had been a good three hours of sitting in the stuffed up storage room detailing the faces of her dream-ees and frankly, she was beyond exhausted.

God! They really need to get some better chairs in there. I don't know how that man can sit in his day after day!

She reached into her purse, stopping to look down inside to find her keys. Stupid keys, always so difficult to find! And then she stopped and looked up. Her fingers curled tightly around her keychain. The knuckles on her hand turning pale and white. Her body frozen by fear. Fear? Am I feeling fear? What do I have to be afraid of?

Her body refused to move despite her flawless logic. It was frozen. Immovable. Her neck jutting out and her eyes wide with fear. And her mouth trembled out a four letter word for which she had no explanation.

"Fear…"

Then she saw it. Whether it was a vision of sorts or an effect of reduced sleep, she did not know; but what she saw glide beautifully through the exit of the DA's office was a woman. The woman was about five foot four, graciously endowed, brown hair cascading down her shoulders and back, blue earrings hanging from her ears, her lips full and young, and a smile riddled on her face.

It was an understatement to say that Allison was scared shitless.

The woman walked straight for her. Her swift and lengthy legs grazing the surface in a sublime and gracious way. She walked…Right through Allison's body. A cool feeling rushing through her that made her hair stand on end. Allison's head turned slowly, still in its stupefied and frozen stare, catching the last of the apparition disappear in a fading chrome dust caught wind.

Then she saw…no…felt it. The feeling from the night before. The cool serenity and pseudo atmosphere. Although she did not see it, it was there, dominating her vision. Her eyes open yet she could not see the world around her. She saw in her blind white vision pitiless eyes that gorgeously shone. They were dark and round, and they seemed to suck the viewer in. A mouth appeared to her beneath the set of eyes. It very distinctly mouthed each syllable in a silent demand broadcasted via a white noise.

She felt herself falling but could do nothing about it. The noise echoing in her head:

We are not angels.