Chapter 4

I tried to sleep. I really did, sleep hasn't come easily for a long time. I guess watching people die will do that to a person. I tried therapy but that, that didn't do a damn bit of good. I wasn't expecting it too; I had to avoid talking about what was causing me to lose sleep.

When I do sleep I dream of Her. I don't know who she is, where she came from, or why she haunts me. I know I didn't see her die, I didn't kill her; there is no reason for her to be there. She never speaks, but her liquid hazel eyes bore into my mind, my soul, every night. I want her gone. If she spoke maybe I would change my mind, or if she showed me something more.

Normally I walk when I can't sleep; sometimes all night, but it never helps, she's there the next night and the night after and the night after that. I finally decided that lying there wasn't going to solve anything, I might as well do some reading, maybe something will come to me, and I can get a head start on what I need to do. The faster I can get my job done the faster I can get out of here and start doing something else. Anything else. Maybe if I read enough I'll just pass out on this almost comfortable couch.

I got up and turned on the light. Squinting I grabbed one of the leather-bound tomes out of my messenger bag. It's the kind of book you think of when someone says wizard. It's large, the pages are yellow, and the cover is stamped in gold Vampyre. I opened the book and skimmed through the first two hundred pages until I found something that made me cringe. I don't normally put stock into any form of prophecy, but this one was a little two perfect, "In the town where many roads meet and the sun ne'er shine/ there resides a maiden with her father, the prefect/ this maid, fair by name, shall bear the dhampir into this world/ with the cold one who is able to hear what can not be heard."

Prophecies are cryptic because they aren't meant to be figured out until after the event has occurred; just look at Nostradamus. It doesn't help that to predict the future in any but the vaguest of sense is punishable by death. This one; however, was oddly specific to someone in my position. Nobody in the rest of the world would give it a second glance.

First line, "In a town where many roads diverge and the sun never shines." Points where roads diverge are called forks in the road; so a town called Forks. This Forks is located in an area where the sun rarely shines. A prefect normally refers to a mayor or a police chief; so the chief's daughter. Dhampir is a term I'm not familiar with, but the last part points to someone who can read minds, the empath; leading me to believe that it's a half-human and half-vampire hybrid. Vampires can not conceive children with humans or anything else for that matter. Oh good god! It's never good to have a mythical pregnancy. Of course prophecies don't have to come true, and often times don't; but it's necessary not to act on the information unless I have too. Most prophecies are fulfilled because people put their effort into stopping them. I tried putting all of this out of my mind. Nothing is for certain and for all I know the vampires will be dead inside a week. There's nothing that I can't put off until morning.

I put the book back into the bag, turned the light out and went back to sleep. This time sleep came easily, the exhaustion had finally taken me.

There she was, leaning against the door frame, staring at me. Those damn hazel eyes again. I knew I had to get past her; there was something in that room I had to get to. "Please move, let me pass." She remained silent, "You will let me through NOW!" I said taking the hard line. She smiled at me with her radiant smile, and gently shook her head; her raven black hair swayed with her. "Who are you? Please tell me. I need to know." Her mouth opened. She was going to speak; she was going to let me pass. Before she could answer she turned and walked back into the room, before she faded into the mist. I passed into the room she had blocked me from.

The room was stark white and empty. There was a noise, faint at first I couldn't make quite make it out, but it slowly got louder. It was crying. It was a baby; hidden in the corner, wrapped in white that matched the brightness of the room. I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. I don't know how I knew it was a girl, but I did. The crying gave way to a soft gurgling sound, and I smiled to myself. I turned around; she was back. She was not an imposing figure but she scared me this time. She was dressed in a black dress that flowed on to the floor. Her arms were bare and were crossed in front of her chest. Her skin was almost as white as the room around us. "Is she yours? Is this what you were keeping me from?"

Again she said nothing, she pointed to my arms. I looked down to the infant cradled in my arms; the white cloth was now a bright crimson, and she made no sounds. "Are you here to keep this from happening?" She came to me slowly, her arms outstretched, silently asking for the child.

I gave her up. I felt the child would be safe with her. I loved her, I don't know why but I wanted to take her in my arms right than. I took a step forward when she turned, the pinnacle of grace and beauty, and walked out "Don't go! Stay, please!" I called after her. She stopped. Again she turned to face me. She looked right at me with the same intensity as before. This time it was different her eyes were no longer golden, they were red, the color of blood. I froze, I couldn't breathe.

I bolted upright, completely drenched in sweat. The dream again. Always the same, the same dream I'd had for weeks. It constantly reminded me of the Ghost of Christmas yet to come from A Christmas Carol. The shade had taught Scrooge something important. She showed me nothing I could make out. I took a ragged breath, then a second; I tried getting my mind in order. Muted grey light shone in through blinds telling me it must be morning. What day was it? I remember driving; I remember sitting on the park bench; that was Saturday afternoon, must me Sunday. Eighteen hours worth of driving and at least two months of not really sleeping had started taking its' toll on me. I sure as hell wasn't myself this morning; I couldn't come up with a sarcastic remark to save my life.

My stomach rumbled and brought me firm into this world again, the dream, the prophecy, hell even my job could wait until I scarffed down some breakfast. My head was starting to pound from the lack of food consumption. I got dressed in something very similar to what I had on yesterday; dark green button up shirt with black vertical stripes and dark blue jeans. Before I left I made sure everything was picked up, the absolute last thing I need right now is someone walking in and seeing my vampire primer lying on the floor.

Surprise, surprise no one else was up first thing on a Sunday morning. I made my way into the kitchen and foraged around. I had my mind set on bacon and eggs; naturally I couldn't find either in the fridge. I settled for the Cheerios I found in the cupboard instead. I poured them into a bowl along with some milk and sat down at the table, and silently ate. I ate slowly; by the time I was only halfway done when they got completely soggy. Even after I was finished I sat at the table and stared out the window. I'm beginning to doubt I would recognize the sun when I saw it.

I knew this job wasn't going to be fun; I want to find these god awful vampires and be done with it. Maybe I could avoid a fight with them, lay down the law keep them from eating a noticeable amount of people, and leave. Of course there were no positive scenarios; maybe they were members of the Fellowship of Saint Giles? Good guys who turn against their instincts and fight their own kind. I finished eating the gruel and decided I would try and clear my head and blow off some steam.

Of course I couldn't cast any magic. Can't let the little seer see what I truly am can I. Not that that stops me from working on my sword technique or throwing some serious power into the ground just to release some of it.

I went back, grabbed my sword bag, and headed out. I thought it polite to leave a note "Went for a walk about eight, be back by eleven – Aaron".