Date: Wed, 25 Aug 2010 10:20:50 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Dreamtrap - chapter 11

This is a story of fiction, all resemblances (dead or alive) are eerily
coincidental. Everything in the story is owned by myself beloved. Contains
descriptive sexual scenes between males, if you are not supposed to read it
then don't. Feel free to e-mail me.

****

- XI -


            He shoved non-resisting Henry into the front door of the house
when they finally got there and pushed him into the general direction of the
study.

   "Third door on your right," he said shortly and headed towards the
stairs. "Don't even think of running out of the house!"

   Henry gave him a dull, indifferent look and walked towards the study
slowly. He looked like someone who didn't care about anything anymore.
Julian threw a quick glance at him, turned around, and quickly walked
upstairs, heading to the bedroom. He opened the door and switched on the
lights. Raven was asleep, his expression as serene and undisturbed as a week
ago, his breathing even.

   "Dammit," Julian sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through
dark, longish hair of the unconscious brunet. "I blew it, I am sorry..."

   Soft, almost inaudible breathing was the only answer he received.

   "I'll figure out how to get you out of there," Julian said quietly. "Try
to stay away from that bitch of your old friend, will you? She can't do
anything to you, not while you are in charge of yourself. She is nothing but
a spirit right now; therefore, she can't do anything to you... However, you
are on her playground, which means she is the one setting the rules..." He
cut himself short and stood up. "I'll get you out of there," he said quietly
and left the room.

   When he walked into the study, the lights were on, and Henry was standing
in front of the painting on the wall, his hands in his pockets, his forehead
one confused frown. He threw a quick glance at Julian when the blond walked
into the study. Now the artist didn't seem as indifferent as he did ten
minutes ago. Now he looked puzzled and somewhat angry.

   "What did you do to it?" he demanded with the same deep frown, and Julian
blinked at that.

   "What?" he asked, walking closer.

   "The painting," Henry looked at the picture in front of him. "What did
you do to it? I didn't paint this... I mean," he impatiently grimaced at
Julian's expression. "This is not *how *I painted this!"

   "What are you talking about?" the blond frowned and stepped closer. "The
only thing I did was change the frame."

   "No," Henry shook his head. "Look at this!" he pointed at the lower right
corner. "This is wrong... So is this..." His finger quickly traveled
upwards. "And don't get me started on Michelle!"

   "Michelle...?" Julian repeated and looked at the painting finally.

   "The woman," Henry said tightly. "I painted someone from my past; her
name was Michelle... Except now," he looked at Julian. "She doesn't look
anything like Michelle!"

   Julian stared at the painting with disbelief. Ever since Raven hung it on
the wall, the blond didn't really look at it. Even when he was changing the
frame – he didn't really look at it; he was too preoccupied talking to his
inner self, and he didn't even care about the painting back then. However,
now, he could see the changes Henry mentioned. The mirror in the bottom
right corner seemed to be distorted somehow, as if it suddenly turned into
one of those carnival fun-house mirrors. The blue reflection of the exit in
one of the mirrors on top has disappeared; now there was something red
splashing in that mirror instead.

   Julian shifted his gaze towards the woman and cursed silently. Her
posture was entirely different now. When Raven got the painting, she was
standing with her back towards the viewer, hugging herself tightly with both
arms, not a single glimpse of her face in either mirror that surrounded her.
Now, however, one of her arms was resting on her shoulder in smooth,
undisturbed line, while the other one was sinking its fingers into her dark,
smooth hair. Her face wasn't hidden at all right now; instead, it was turned
forward, her eyes fixed on something only she could see, her mouth stretched
in a small, tight smile.

   "That's," Henry pointed at the woman again. "Not Michelle," he nodded
energetically. "Even her hair is different! Michelle's hair was wavy and
much longer than..."

   "It's not Michelle," Julian interrupted him in a quiet, tight voice.
"It's Magda. Goddammit..."

   Henry blinked and looked at the woman intently.

   "Huh," he said finally. "So that's what she really looks like... She
never wore this appearance before... Huh," he said again.

   Julian quickly took the heavy frame off the wall and put it on the floor,
flipping the painting facedown. He undid the latches on the back, pulled the
canvas out of the frame, rolled it into a loose tube, and straightened up.

   "Follow," was all he said to Henry before leaving the study.

   The artist followed him obediently. They went into the office, and Julian
flipped on the lights, which were brighter than the ones in the study, and
impatiently swiped everything off the desk, freeing the top of it
completely. He unrolled the tube and spread the canvas on the desktop. Then
he opened one of the drawers, dug in it for several seconds, and finally
straightened up, holding a medium-size magnifying glass.

   He turned on the lamp that hovered above the desk, and leaned closer,
squinting his left eye slightly while staring at the painting through the
magnifying glass.

   "What the hell is that...?" he muttered, staring at the strange newborn
red reflections in the mirror in the upper corner. "What is it...?"

   He straightened up and shoved the glass into Henry's hand.

   "Look," he demanded. "You are the one who painted the damn thing..."

   "I didn't paint it this way..." Henry started protesting, but Julian
interrupted him with another short, impatient:

   "Look!"

   Henry sighed and leaned closer towards the painting, the magnifying glass
pressed against his face. He stared at the strange red dots for several
minutes, and then he lowered the glass and looked up.

   "I think those are eyes," he said slowly, and the blond stared at him
without blinking. Henry shrugged. "That's what they look like," he said and
pressed the glass against his face once again, making his right eye appear
freakishly huge for a second or two before he turned towards the painting
again. "There is something here as well..." he muttered, leaning closer.
"Someone, actually," he said after a minute. "Yeah, definitely someone..."
he nodded to himself, and Julian shoved him aside, grabbing the magnifying
glass out of his hand.

   "Where?" he asked dryly, and Henry silently tapped his finger on the left
upper corner.

   Julian looked at that spot for a minute or two, then leaned even closer,
narrowing his eye slightly, and then he blinked in disbelief.

   "You have got to be kidding me..." he muttered slowly.

   He stared at that particular reflection for several more minutes, then
straightened up, threw the magnifying glass aside, and pulled his phone out
of his pocket.

   "If he is visiting him there," he muttered while punching in the number
with slightly trembling fingers. "He will know how to get him out... Unless
he is playing along with her... Son of a bitch... I should've killed him
when I had a... Alessandro!" he barked into the phone. "I need you to book a
charter plane for me; I'll tell the destination to the pilot myself. Also, I
need you to get rid of something in the house..."

   Henry immediately knew that `something' was Emma's dead body. He started
to shake and turned away from the blond, whose expression was darker than
ever.

   "...I will be gone for..." Julian paused for a second. "I don't know for
how long," he said finally. "I need you to stop by the house every morning;
to make sure that everything runs smoothly... Yes," he nodded slowly, his
eyes fixed on the painting. "I need the plane as soon as possible," he
continued. "I want to leave within the next hour... Yes," he nodded again.
"I will see you then," he finished evenly and snapped the phone shut.

   He took a deep breath and looked at the very tense artist, who stood
still, staring at the door, his shoulders shaking slightly.

   "You and I are going on a trip," Julian said shortly, and Henry turned
around.

   He frowned and his shoulders tensed up even more.

   "I am not going anywhere," he said darkly. "I've done enough already... I
paid for getting into your house, we are even... I am not going
anywhere...!"

   "You and I are going on a trip," Salamander repeated quietly. "You can
choose whether you want to travel in fully conscious condition or the
opposite, but you are coming with me. It's not a request," he nodded
slightly, his tone of voice leaving no room for debate.

   Henry gritted his teeth with helpless anger and frustration.

   "You don't even need me," he said tightly. "Bloody hell, you don't even
need me...!"

   "I might," the blond nodded again.

   He turned towards the desk, rolled up the canvas loosely, turned off the
lamp, and headed towards the door.

   "Do not make me to put you on a leash," he said without looking at Henry,
who stood motionless, stubborn frown on his forehead.

   The artist gritted his teeth again and followed Salamander slowly,
thinking that he would not want to deal with humiliation of wearing a leash.
He knew that Julian meant it; he also knew that right now, he didn't have a
choice but to follow the blond and do whatever he said. He gritted his teeth
once more, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked slowly down the
wide hallway, wondering what the damn ghost did a week ago.



****

*One week ago.*



   ..."There is so much I need to tell him..." Raven thought without opening
his eyes, letting his legs slide off blond's waist. "The painting, the
dream, that web page... That damn chiming sound... I will tell him after we
wake up..." He kissed Julian's neck lightly, and the blond tightened the
circle of his arms without lifting his head. "I will tell him after we wake
up... I also will have to get that frame out of..."

   He fell asleep without finishing his thought, enjoying the smooth, quick
slide into velvety darkness, Julian's weight making his body sing, and then
suddenly, he had that unpleasant feeling of an abrupt fall. He jerked
harshly, cursing silently, knowing that the damn phantom fall just chased
away the glorious sleep that almost had him in its dark embrace, and that
now, he was wide-awake. He wondered what happened to the weight of Julian's
body on top of his, and then figured that the blond rolled off him without
Raven even noticing it. He sighed and opened his eyes, gloomy expression on
his face. `Gloomy' transformed into `confused,' and a few seconds later, it
became `furious.'

   "Are you serious?" he growled loudly and glanced around, dark anger and
frustration making his hands shake. "God-bloody-dammit!"

   He was standing in front of the same abandoned opera house, lazy breeze
chasing several candy wrappers off the steps of rocky stairs. Raven turned
around. There it was, the same wooden post him and Desmond hid behind the
last time. He slowly walked towards it and lowered himself on one knee. He
blinked when he saw the hole in one of the old advertisements; it was in the
same exact spot where the black arrow was trembling after it missed Raven's
lower side – the place it was clearly aiming for before Specter pushed him
onto the ground.

   Raven slowly ran his fingers over the old paper, wondering whether he was
alone in here or someone was about to start shooting at him again.

   "Oh, son of a bitch, not again...!" someone said in a desperate voice
behind him, and Raven didn't need to turn around to see the owner of the
voice.

   He squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, and then took a quick
breath, opened his eyes, stood up, and turned around slowly.

   "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked tiredly. "It's eleven in the
morning!"

   "I went back to sleep," Desmond answered irritably. "I figured that I
might as well go ahead and snooze peacefully for a few hours without
worrying that I'll end up in your damn dream again, since it's eleven in the
morning and you already woke up!" He looked at Raven pointedly.

   "I went back to sleep," Raven nodded without elaborating any further.

   "Great," Desmond exhaled with annoyance. "Well, wake up then...! You
didn't take any more Noxum, did you?" he narrowed his eyes.

   "No," Raven sighed. "Don't yell in my face again," he said warningly when
Desmond started walking towards him. "That startled the hell out of me the
last time!"

   "It worked," Desmond nodded shortly. "You are welcome."

   Raven muttered something under his breath and closed his eyes, starting
to visualize his sleeping self as he did the last time. A few seconds after
he closed his eyes, there was a sudden and loud chiming sound, ripping the
silence apart. Raven jerked slightly and his eyes flew open.

   "Bloody hell!" he hissed when he lost his concentration.

   Desmond looked around with narrowed eyes.

   "It's the same sound," he said slowly.

   "Uh huh," Raven agreed gloomily, and then there was another chime – this
one sounded closer.

   "We need to get the hell out of here!" Desmond said sharply. "Wake
up...!"

   Raven agreed with that silently and squeezed his eyes shut once again,
hurriedly visualizing his unconscious for now physical body. He was relieved
when he saw it almost immediately and was about to dive into it, positive
that this time, he would wake up, since there were no drugs involved, when
there was yet another chime, which made Raven open his eyes with frustrated
worry. This time, it felt as if the sound decided to drown both of them in
its unusually huge wave, splashing everywhere, making Raven gasp for breath
involuntarily. He swayed on his feet, feeling as if the sound wave was about
to knock him down, and grabbed onto Desmond's shoulder instinctively,
squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

   Then the sound was gone, as unexpectedly as it rang for the first time.
Sudden silence made Raven's ears ring, and he carefully opened his eyes.
What he saw made his eyelid twitch madly. Both of them stood in a fairly
wide hallway, and there were mirrors everywhere – on the floor, on the
walls, and on the ceiling. Raven shook his head slightly when all those
mirrors made him dizzy. Desmond slowly peeled his eyes open (it seemed he
squeezed them shut just as Raven did a minute ago) and looked around,
clearly confused.

   "What the..." he started saying when Raven remembered Julian's words.

   "We have to move!" he interrupted Desmond and started walking forward
quickly, ignoring Desmond's questions.

   "Bloody hell!" the green-eyed man said angrily a minute or so later after
he caught up with Raven's quickening pace. "I take it, you know what this
place is, right?"

   "Right," Raven muttered without slowing down. "It's a mirror labyrinth;
there is an exit, but it keeps jumping every fifteen minutes... Or was it
ten...?" he frowned to himself. "Anyway," he continued several seconds
later. "The first exit is the easiest one, since it's always straight
ahead... After that, it starts jumping, and it never appears in the same
place twice..."

   "Hurry up then," Desmond said darkly without asking any questions; he
would ask them later, when they were out of this bizarre place.

   "I am..." Raven started saying, and suddenly, he came to a dead stop.
"Goddammit!" he hissed with frustration and slight panic. "Which way is
straight?"

   Desmond looked around with a tight frown. The corridor twisted itself in
such a way that it was rather impossible to tell which way `straight' was –
it seemed that there was every single direction in front of them. The
corridor went right, left, around, and even diagonal, but definitely not
straight. All those flickering reflections didn't help a single bit. They
stood still for several minutes; time turning into something Raven could
literally feel slipping through his fingers. Finally, Desmond muttered:

   "This way..." and took the diagonal fork.

   "Are you sure?" Raven asked quickly, following him immediately.

   "No," Desmond answered, and Raven gritted his teeth silently.

   They walked for several long minutes, and then came to yet another mad
intersection. Desmond took the right fork without slowing down, and Raven
didn't ask him anything this time. "Damn," he thought gloomily while
following the ex-assassin, who made his way through countless mirrors with
tight ease. "Julian said that it was `a little tricky' for him to find the
exit when he knew what he was looking for... This is anything but `a little
tricky'..." He glanced around. "Wonder if some labyrinths are more
complicated than the others..."

   "There," Desmond said suddenly, interrupting Raven's thoughts, and the
smaller man blinked.

   Right there, in front of them was a portal pulsating with bright blue
light, it was maybe seventy feet away. Desmond walked faster, and Raven
immediately picked up the pace as well, catching up with him easily.
Suddenly, when they were almost half-way through, the portal disappeared for
a fraction of a second, and appeared once more, just so it could repeat the
same action several seconds later.

   "What..." Desmond frowned, and Raven immediately remembered what Julian
said.

   *"...Right before it jumps, the exit blinks..."*

   "Run," he said in a low, tight voice. "It's about to jump... Run...!"

   They started running, the sound of their desperate footsteps hissing at
them with sickening, empty echoes, snaking throughout the labyrinth, the
portal blinking more rapidly than it did less than a minute ago. They ran
faster, and Raven thought that they were going to make it, when the portal
blinked one last time, and disappeared for good. Desmond didn't have any
time to slow down, and he ended up running into the cold surface of the
mirror full speed, slamming into the hard glass with audible dull sound.
Raven smacked into his back, trying to keep the balance, but it didn't work,
and both of them tumbled down onto the mirrored floor, their countless
reflections imitating their fall simultaneously.

   "Fuck...!" Desmond screamed with wild, desperate frustration, and the
minute he did that, it sounded like the entire labyrinth exploded with
maddening echo.

   Raven groaned and pressed his hands against his ears, only half-noting
that Desmond immediately did the same, a painful grimace distorting his
face. The echo pierced through Raven's hands, burrowing the cackling sounds
deep into his head, threatening to twist his skull inside out. Finally, the
sounds died off, and both men slowly lowered their hands.

   "Fuck..." Desmond repeated much softer.

   "I guess it's a good idea to keep our voices down in this place," Raven
muttered dully.

   "Fuck..." Desmond said again, staring into the mirror where the portal
was shimmering five minutes ago, and Raven agreed with him with a slow,
desperate nod.


****

 A  little of shameless self-advertising: you can find all my stories,
including The Dreamtrap here<http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=3895328>