Mia's Dreams

The darkness gave way to bright clouds that disappeared in a blinding light until a man who looked so perfect and incomprehensibly divine stood leaning against the side of a door to an empty room with white tile floors, walls, pillars, and ceiling.  He called an angel, another angel, to him.  “
Lailiah
!” The angel appeared, her light blonde hair flowing down her back and her blue eyes sparkling. She was truly beautiful.

“Michael,” she said warmly and bowed, smiling up at him.

Michael gestured inside the room and she slid in, her hands in the pockets of her white robe. He closed the door and turned to face her; his expression was grim.

Lailiah
immediately noticed the difference in his demeanor and her smile disappeared. “What’s wrong? Did something else happen down there?”

Michael nod
ded, “We’ve gotten wind of the F
allen’s plan. They seek to bring Asmodeus back to the waking world; to give him the power to walk Creation again.”

She breathed in sharply and then stood tall and stra
ight. “What would you have me
do?”

“We need someone I trust. Someone He trusts. Malachi is our hope, he and seven others. You will need to gather them, to teach them. You can...” He paused, and the sound of music, ethereal and soft, wafted slowly over the room. “You can teach and guide, but you cannot participate in the battle.”  He stared at her before adding, “This is no command,
Lailiah
.  You are by no means bound to do this.”

“I’ll do it,” she said firmly, hair crackling with the power in her voice.

The voice still echoes as the room and the white dissolved into a fury of swirling red and black.  Screams echoed from…it was a swirling void.  The screams were loud and then faint, but there was nowhere from which the echoes could come.  Nonetheless, the piercing cries repeated.  Visions of blood faded into view and then out, an old man with a slashed throat…Petyr broken on the side of the road, crushed by the car…children tortured…the knife—a vicious looking flat slab of metal—descending over and over into her chest, into Mia’s chest. 

And then, it was a face.  A cruel and twisted face with a strange sadness behind the eyes.  The face remained impassive even as the blade fell again and again and blood splashed upward on its cheeks, mouth, and nose.  Mia knew the face.  It was Damien Croft.

“Mia! Mia, Sweetie, wake up. Wake up!”

I would have been content to stay in bed for hours, but a rough shake made my eyes fly open and I bolted up in my bed.  I felt wet and sticky and realized that sweat covered my body completely. My heart was racing, too. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around myself, inhaling raggedly.  Then, I heard Petyr’s soothing words in my ear, and his calming hands were on my back.  Slowly, I managed to calm down and I leaned back against him, exhausted.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing my cheek and pulling me to his chest. He gently ran his fingers through my hair, his brows creased and his eyes filled with concern.  Again the strange wondrous amazement that he could even touch me filled me, almost driving away the memories of the nightmare, but there was no chance it would disappear completely.  “The same?” he asked his mouth close to my ear.

I nodded and tried to smile. I don’t know—maybe I thought making it a joke would make it easier to handle.  “The same one; with him chasing me and then…” I drew my finger over my throat and blinked my eyes open. I couldn’t keep up the charade and my smile disappeared.  My world was so damned strange now.  It was just a dream, and maybe I wouldn’t have thought about it much six months or so ago; but six months ago my boyfriend wasn’t dead.

Petyr bit his lip and pushed some of my hair from my face. “You know that I won’t let that happen, Mia. You have to believe me about this, okay?” he asked earnestly.  I looked at him a bit questioningly.  I guess it would have been safe to say he wasn’t dead now, either, but I suppose, technically, he was.  I could see him. I could feel him.  Besides, are ghosts really dead?  I mean, do they think of themselves as dead?  I sighed softly. 

“I know you won’t,” I yawned softly as I said it. Sleep wasn’t exactly coming easily to me these days. Ever since I’d finally managed to drag out of Petyr what had been wrong when I’d been decorating the gym, the nightmares had sprung up. For some reason, Damien Croft wanted to kill me.  If Petry hadn’t rescued me… I shivered again.  The nightmares were overwhelming me.  Petyr said part of it was probably fear but I knew he’d been getting flashes of things, too; images like he had when he had walked past Croft.

“At least there was something different this time.  There were angels right in the middle.  That part was nice.” I lay back down, my head on Petyr’s shoulder. His eyes were open and I saw no indication that he was going to sleep. Of course, I had no idea if he really needed sleep.  He slept sometimes, lying next to me on the bed, but I think he did it for my benefit, not because his body needed…I didn’t even know if he really had a body.  Nobody else could see it or feel it, anyway.  I was so exhausted.  I finally decided I was willing to risk the nightmares and try to sleep again rather than be a zombie in school tomorrow.

As I drifted off, I felt the familiar swirl of blackness and I was pulled into the crashing, cloying mess of my dreams.

***

Petyr walked down the street, his hands pushed into his pockets. He had started off at school with Mia, but had soon grown bored being unable to work or speak or anything at all; it was infuriating. He had kissed Mia’s hair and left. He’d been walking aimlessly for over an hour now, with no destination in mind.

A boy walked towards him and Petyr jerked his head up, trying to dodge to the left. He didn’t manage to and his shoulder hit the other boys’; and it did hit. He could hear the crack, and feel the pain.

He’d never been able to touch anyone except Mia.

“Sorry,” the boy muttered, rubbing his shoulder. He looked as tired as Mia; gaunt and sickly looking.

“I… you can see me?” Petyr breathed, his eyes widening; the pain completely forgotten for now.

“Of course I can,” he raised his eyebrow, “Oh.  You’re being sarcastic.  Look, I wasn’t paying attention.  Sorry I walked into you.  Let it go.”

“No, no, of course not. I…” How on earth did he even say it? Okay so he wouldn’t. “I’m Petyr.” He said softly.

“Malachi.” The boy offered his hand and Petyr took it eagerly, desperate to feel human contact. His hand slipped through the boy’s, but when he did there was a sudden shock of cold and then elation that passed almost immediately. Malachi’s eyes widened and he furrowed his brows, staring at his hand.

“Did your… did your hand just go through mine?” he raised his eyebrow and Petyr shifted uncomfortably before nodding.

“Are you dead, too?” he mumbled, shifting and clasping his hands behind his back.

Malachi cocked his head to the side. “You’re between.” He ran a hand through his long black hair and grinned wolfishly.  “I’ve never met one before.  Wow.  How long?”

“Between?  What are you—”

“You’re not alive but you’re not quite dead.  You’re between and you’ll be—”

“But what the hell do you know about it?”

“Most of the time you end up between because there’s something your soul can’t accept and it needs to fix it.  Once you’re done, you move un.”  The boy was smiling warmly now, and Petyr couldn’t help but feel angry about it.

“Who the hell are…”  He took a deep breath.  “I fixed what was wrong, but I’m still here.”

“Oh…”  The boy’s eyes grew wider and he lifted his eyebrows.  “Then you’re here for a purpose.”  When he said it, Malachi’s eyes seemed to glow a rich gold for a moment.

Petyr breathed in sharply.  He fought back an urge to bolt and then took another breath before saying, “Who are you?”

“I told you.”  The warm smile on his face was infuriating.  “I’m Malachi.”

Petyr fought back the urge to scream and said thinly, “What are you?”

“I guess that’s the real question, then, isn’t it.”  Malachi looked terribly sad for a moment, and then he took a deep breath.  “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m getting pretty cold. Why don’t we go to a café, get some coffee, and talk about it?”

Petyr nodded. They’d only taken two steps before a voice stopped them.

Damien snarled, kicking the wall in the small cell before resuming his pacing. There was only so long to go until he had to be released, and he was already close to breaking point. He’d been told that his house had been searched, his laptop had been seized and that Nessie had been taken to a friend’s house. His laptop.  They thought he was a pedophile.  He laughed softly.  H
e didn’t want to touch children;
he wanted to kill them. 

They’d find nothing.  He’d done nearly all his research about the crossroads using actual books, the kind with paper and ink.  He’d disposed of all bloody clothes and had scrubbed for hours. But still, if the police were that intent on finding things, there could always be something he had left, something he hadn’t hidden, something he’d overlooked.

What would happen if he didn’t get the souls,
if he didn’t kill anyone?
Would Nessie get worse? Drastically worse? What if she ended up in hospital again? She had said that she would refuse treatment this time. What if she died?’

The questions whirled in his mind.  He didn’t care about much anymore, but his daughter; she was the only joy left.  He didn’t think he could handle it if she died. He didn’t want eternal life if he would have to live it without his daughter. He’d done everything for her, all of the killing, all of the blood.  Even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it.  The first few had been for his daughter, certainly, but the joy he felt with later victims was his own.

He banged his fists against the metal bars, growling.

“You can’t keep me here!” He kicked the bars and slumping down on the metal bunk welded to the wall.  

Then he heard them.  They were back.  He held his head in his hands as the voices flooded his mind, beginning to scream and shout. They wanted blood. They wanted the dead. They were getting impatient.

“Mia!” I heard Petyr shout gleefully as I came in, kicking off my shoes and dropping my school bag, my mind reeling.

I walked in, and was startled to see a boy with him. “I… hello?” I asked and stood in the doorway, my eyes darting between them, and then it clicked.

“Malachi! You’re…you’re an angel.  Aren’t you? An angel?” I sat down on the sofa, leaning towards him.

Malachi looked startled and nodded. “Yes… how did you know that?”