Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2010 19:37:36 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Dreamtrap - chapter 5

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.

****


- V -



            He woke up just a little before noon and stretched sweetly
without opening his eyes. He didn't dream of Desmond or of anything that
happened in his past after he dozed off at eight in the morning. As he
predicted, he dreamt of Julian instead, and those dreams he more than
welcomed. He yawned and finally opened his eyes, blinking the last shreds of
sleep out of his eyelashes. He lay in bed for a little while longer,
inhaling Salamander's scent from one of the pillows, and then finally, he
sighed and got out of bed, heading for the shower.

   He spent a good hour in the shower, enjoying hot water and the feeling
the running streams delivered to his somewhat sore muscles. After he got out
and was brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, staring at his
reflection, he immediately remembered about the painting. He swore softly
and spat out the toothpaste, rinsing out his foaming mouth. He completely
forgot about the damn painting, he thought with frustration. He never even
mentioned it to Julian last night.

   He sighed and turned off the water. Well, he thought solemnly while
wiping his hands and face on the hand towel. He will definitely say
something about it when the blond comes back tomorrow. Then he realized that
he would have to spend this night alone (a thing that hasn't happened to him
for at least seven months by now) and that made him swear softly yet again.
He sighed once again, turned off the lights, and walked out of the bathroom.
He headed towards the closet, ignoring unmade bed and messy sheets -- someone
would clean it, he knew that. It was Friday, which meant that the entire
staff was here since 9:30 in the morning.

   He never felt bad or guilty for leaving a mess; Julian was a surprisingly
good employer. He would never harass any of his staff members with something
other than work-related matters (the blond didn't believe in mixing business
with pleasure), and the pay he provided was rather generous.

   Raven got dressed quickly and left the bedroom, wincing slightly when his
stomach growled quite urgently. He went into the kitchen, knowing that
breakfast was waiting for him by now. Well, brunch, to be exact, he thought
after throwing a quick glance at the clock -- it was 1:20 in the afternoon.

   He was right -- he overindulged on eggs, bacon, and pork chops rather
soon, and after his stomach started purring its thankful serenades, he
grabbed a mug full of coffee and headed towards the office. He plopped in
the chair in front of the computer, while turning on the sleeping gadget.

   ...Several hours later, Raven finally straightened up and muttered
something under his breath. Julian was right -- this particular ability was
ridiculously rare. All Raven was able to find were some vague descriptions
that didn't really describe anything ("...Dream world is a shadowy territory
that is haunted by darkness, the darkness that one called manipulator is
able to recognize.")

   The only somewhat useful thing he found was a short paragraph on one of
the obscure-called web pages. "The manipulator is not recognized by a
dreamer," the paragraph said. "It is connected to several factors, one of
them being the fact that the manipulator is always invading the events of
the past when the dreamer had no knowledge of them yet. However, as to every
rule, there is an exception, i.e. the bond."

   That was all it said. The rest of the article said nothing more about the
entire matter. Raven re-read that short paragraph several times, trying to
see if he missed something. Finally, he tutted with annoyance and got up,
stretching his arms vigorously.

   "The bond?" he thought with a frown. "What kind of a bond? I don't share
any bonds with him... The only person I would be bound to would be Julian,
not Desmond... Dammit," he sighed and turned off the computer.

   He made a mental note to self to tell the blond about what he found
tomorrow when he comes back, and headed towards the study, wondering whether
anything else vanished from his painting. Once he got to the study, he
immediately jerked the curtains apart, welcoming the sunlight. Then he
stared at the painting. It seemed to be the same, the reflection of the
phantom exist still missing from that particular mirror.

   Raven sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets without taking his
eyes off the painting. He concentrated on the mirrors, scanning every single
one of them slowly with his eyes, and he didn't pay much attention to the
woman in the blue dress. When he finally did look at her rigid figure, he
blinked several times quite rapidly, and then he started cursing again.

   Ever since he got the painting, one of the things that intrigued him was
the woman's posture; the certain angle of her neck and shoulders that
prevented any mirror from reflecting her face. Well, right now, her posture
seemed to be the same, except now Raven could clearly see her shadowy
profile in the mirror on her left, as if she moved somehow, turned her head
ever so slightly, letting the mirror catch her features.

   He stared at that profile dumbfoundedly, noting the sharp, somewhat long
nose, fragile outline of the mouth, and a high, worriedly arched eyebrow. He
looked at the painting for several long minutes, almost expecting that woman
to turn her head towards him (a thing that would freak him out, to say the
least), but nothing happened.

   "Goddamn..." he muttered and almost touched the dark canvas with his
fingertips. He drew his hand away at the last second, deciding to leave the
damn painting alone for the time being. "What are you...?" he whispered
without looking away from that dark-blue dress.

   The painting remained mute and lifeless, just like any normal painting
would. Raven shook his head and took a step back. He was about to jerk the
curtains back together before leaving the study when someone rang the
doorbell. He frowned and cocked his head to the left just a bit, listening
intently, knowing that the butler would open the door. He wondered who rang
the bell. He stood like that for a couple of minutes, and when he didn't
hear anything else, he frowned, left the curtains alone, and went to the
front door.

   The door was locked, and there was no sign of the butler. Raven's frown
looked almost comical by now. He unlocked the door and swung it open. There
was nobody there, not a single person in view. Raven shut the door slowly
and turned around, trying to figure out if he was having auditory
hallucinations.

   "Is everything all right, master Delamorte?" someone asked in a careful
voice, and Raven looked up.

   "I thought I've heard someone ring the doorbell," he said with the same
thoughtful frown, and the butler immediately shook his head, his expression
as cautious as before.

   "Nobody rang the bell, master," he said with wary respect.

   "Thank you, Sebastian," Raven muttered absent-mindedly and walked towards
the bedroom, cursing silently. He is hearing noises now, that's just great!

   ...He kept himself somewhat occupied with several movies and more
computer-browsing (hell, he even succumbed to online solitaire!) until 8:30
in the evening, trying not to think about the empty bed he would have to
deal with tonight. Finally, he couldn't handle any more cards or television
screen, and after glancing at the clock and thinking that there was no way
in hell he would be able to fall asleep this early, he marched into the main
bathroom and opened the large mirrored cabinet where he knew Julian kept his
medical treasures.

   He dug through the cabinet for a minute or two, and finally, emerged with
a medium-sized plastic container in his hand. He opened the container and
shook two little green pills onto his palm. He threw them into his mouth,
crushed them with his teeth absent-mindedly, shoved the bottle back on the
shelf, and closed the cabinet. He was on his way to the bedroom, when all of
a sudden, the floor felt alive underneath his feet, and then everything
around him swayed with lazy grace.

   Raven immediately recognized the effect of the drug, except now, it was
much quicker and stronger.

   "I guess crushing them wasn't a brilliant idea," he thought hazily about
those green pills, marveling at how fast they kicked in. Usually, it took
fifteen minutes, give or take. "Well," he shrugged carefully and pushed open
the bedroom door. "At least I'll be out until morning..."

   That was true -- those little pills were ridiculously and unexpectedly
strong. Raven would have at least seven hours of sleep, if not more.

   He swayed his way to the bed and fell down on it, without even bothering
taking off his clothes -- tonight it didn't matter.



****



   When he opened his eyes, at first, he thought that he sleepwalked
somewhere, which was bizarre and disturbing -- he never sleepwalked in his
entire life. He was about to start digging in his pockets for his phone (he
always had his phone on him; well, always when he was dressed, that is) when
he heard tired and gloomy:

  "Not again..."

   He recognized that voice immediately and squeezed his eyes shut for
several seconds.

   "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered through his clenched teeth,
opened his eyes, and turned around.

   Desmond's expression was all but kidding. He let out a heavy sigh,
staring at the brunet without blinking.

   "Why are you following me?" Raven demanded angrily.

   "I am not following you," Desmond answered darkly, and Raven narrowed his
eyes.

   "I beg to differ," he nodded stiffly. "I do not remember inviting you
into a single one of my dreams; yet, here you are...! Again," he added after
a few seconds.

   Desmond muttered something under his breath, and Raven could care less
about clarifying what it was.

   "I am not doing it on purpose," the green-eyed man said unwillingly.

   "Then learn how to control your damn ability!" Raven said sharply, and
Desmond blinked at that. "Yeah," Raven nodded. "Julian figured it out after
I told him that you keep popping up in my dreams. Well," he shrugged. "Sort
of figured it out, I suppose... He wasn't sure. But I see that he was
right... When did it hit you?" he asked with a shadow of interest, and
Desmond sighed.

   "Three months ago," he said gloomily. "Believe me, I keep trying to
figure out how to control it; it doesn't seem that it's even possible," he
shook his head with frustration. "It's like I am not even in charge of it! I
have no clue whose dream I am going to end up in, and I have no clue which
event I am about to witness... It seems to be completely random...!"

   "Great," Raven muttered darkly. "Why the hell do you keep dreaming about
me though?"

   "I don't know," Desmond answered forcefully. "I also can't figure out how
it is possible that you recognize me every bloody time!"

   "Yes," Raven agreed with that, deciding not to mention anything about the
paragraph that he found earlier. He wanted to let Julian know about it
first. "That's why Julian wasn't sure about the ability theory; he said it's
not how it supposed to work."

   Desmond grimaced in the impatient, stubborn manner, which Raven
recognized from four or so months ago when he saw him for the last time in
that hospital.

   "How's the mind-reading thing?" he asked with genuine curiosity, and the
green-eyed man threw him a quick glance.

   "That one is fine," he answered somewhat shortly and looked around with
narrowed eyes. Then he frowned.

   "What?" Raven sighed and looked around as well. "Where are we?" he copied
Desmond's frown without even noticing it. The black-haired man blinked at
that.

   "How the hell would I know?" he said slowly. "This is your dream..."

   "I have never seen this place in my life," Raven looked at him seriously.

   "Maybe you don't remember..." Desmond started, and Raven interrupted him.

   "No," he shook his head. "I have never been here before... I don't even
know where `here' is."

   "If this is just a random dream..." Desmond muttered mostly to himself.
"...and not an actual event, then what the hell am I doing here...?"

   Raven closed his eyes for a second, feeling more and more frustrated with
each passing minute. This entire ordeal started to get on his nerves.

   "Then get out," he said sharply and opened his eyes. "Get out and maybe I
would be able to wake up..." Then he remembered those little green pills and
gritted his teeth with helpless fury. He wouldn't be able to wake up for at
least several more hours, thanks to those pills. It seemed like he was
pretty much stuck in this bizarre dreaming reality for now.

   "I can't," Desmond said slowly, glancing around yet again. "This is
strange... There is not a single ripple!"

   "Ripple?" Raven repeated, having no idea what he meant.

   "A month ago, I figured out how to escape a certain dream," Desmond
explained somewhat patiently. "There would always be at least one..." He
paused. "...ripple," he nodded slowly. "That's what I call it. Looks like
trembling air, like it's trying to shimmer... Anyway, I realized that if I
go through that ripple, it would take me somewhere else. I would never know
where I'd end up, but some dreams are definitely worth that risk..." He
threw a quick, dark look at Raven. "Like your dream last night..." he
muttered. "I did *not *want to witness that... Sorry for leaving you like
that, by the way," he added after a few seconds, throwing another quick
glance at Raven.

   The brunet looked around again.

   "Looks like an opera house," he muttered, and Desmond blinked at the
change of the subject. "The structure of the building," he answered
Desmond's silent question. "It's the same as all of the opera houses Julian
dragged me to... Plus, the posters," he added, nodding slightly at the old,
half-ripped, almost colorless by now posters that rustled quietly in almost
non-existent breeze.

   Desmond looked at the pictures and words.

   "I guess you right," he said slowly after recognizing a few names and
titles. "Doesn't seem like anyone performed here lately though..." he looked
at the dark, silent building. "Looks abandoned..."

   The building indeed looked abandoned; the same mild breeze kept rustling
dead leaves, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts all over its steps, mixing
itself with a heavy, damp sensation that crawled from the wide open doors.
Broken windows of what used to be a place for entertainment gawked at two
lonely figures blindly like empty eye sockets.

   "Try waking up maybe?" Desmond suggested, feeling that he did not like
this place much, dream or not.

   "I can't," Raven gritted his teeth. "I took two sleeping pills; I'll be
out for at least a couple more hours."

   "What kind of sleeping pills?" Desmond sighed.

   "Don't remember the name," Raven shrugged. "Little green bastards."

   "Noxum?" Desmond sighed again, knowing immediately which pills Raven was
talking about; the smaller man was right -- those little green bastards as he
called them would keep him under for a while.

   "Sounds about right," Raven agreed and narrowed his eyes. "Are we alone
here?" he muttered.

   "That's what it looks like..." Desmond started saying, and suddenly, he
stopped talking, pressing his mouth into a thin, hard line.

   "What?" Raven asked in a low voice when the ex-assassin just stood there
without saying anything.

   "Something isn't right..." Desmond muttered and grabbed Raven's elbow.
"Let's move."

  They started walking towards a large old wooden post, which was shedding
ripped posters and announcements.

   "What is it?" Raven asked, pulling his elbow free. "And how do you know?"

   "I have no idea and I always feel when something is off," Desmond
muttered, glancing around warily. "I never question my intuition."

   Raven remembered several stories about Specter's stunts and nodded
silently. Yes, he thought. He remembered people saying that the man's
intuition was downright mythological. He was thinking solemnly that it was a
good thing Specter's famous intuition was still present in the dreamland,
when all of a sudden, Desmond grabbed his shoulder and forcefully shoved him
onto the ground. Raven almost kissed the dirty asphalt, bewildered, stunned,
and pissed off, wincing at the unpleasant feeling in his right elbow where
it made a hard impact with the ground.

   "What the fu..." he started growling when something brushed through his
hair swiftly, and then there was a soft `thud!' on the wooden post behind
him.

   He blinked, looked around, and shut his mouth. Right there, behind him
there was a still trembling black arrow, pinning one of the old
advertisements to the wooden post. Raven hissed a scrambled obscenity and
rolled on the ground, making sure he keeps his head down, throwing his body
behind the post and pressing his back hard into the bumpy surface.

   "You sure it's not *your *dream?" he asked Desmond, who dove after him.
"Nobody ever shot an arrow at me before..."

   "It's not my dream," Desmond answered irritably. "I've never seen this
place in my life!"

   "Maybe you forgot..." the brunet narrowed his eyes.

   "No," Desmond interrupted him as irritably as before. "I don't forget
things... Now," he took a quick breath. "This is not an actual event, both
of us are here, and someone just shot at us... I'd say, it's a trap," he
nodded and looked at Raven.

   "A trap?" the brunet repeated incredulously. "Who would..."

   "No idea," Desmond interrupted him quickly. "And right now, I don't care!
You need to wake up," he looked at Raven steadily. "Because the minute you
wake up, I'll be out of here as well. You have to wake up!"

   "I already told you..." Raven growled softly, and Desmond interrupted him
yet again.

   "Try it!" he demanded, and Raven let out an exasperated sigh.

   "Fine..." he muttered and closed his eyes.

  ****

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