Date: Sat, 15 May 2010 12:52:57 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Year of the Salamander, chapter 23

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the resemblances are completely
coincidental. All the characters, situations, and everything else in the
story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between
males. If you are not supposed to read it, do not read it! Feel free to
e-mail me.

   This is a sequel to Specter' Gamble
<http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/specters-gamble/>.  You don't
have to read the first one in order to get this one, but it would make it
easier to understand the characters in this story.




- XXIII -



            "Okay, mutt," he said after he dragged the bag of dog food
inside the house. "Here is the deal... I got your damn food, so..."

   He stopped talking when the dog let out a very uncertain and confused
sound.

   "What?" he frowned when the animal just stood there with strange look in
his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me that you are going to throw up!"

   That didn't seem to be the case, however. The dog looked plain confused
right now, as if he had no idea who Desmond was. He frowned deeper,
immediately remembering the dog's weird reaction to him several months ago.
Then he remembered about his strange reaction to Sam one night back in
August, and narrowed his eyes. Come to think about it, there was a strange
reaction from Sam once as well, he thought. The kid looked as if he wasn't
sure how the dog was going to act one night when he came home late. Now, why
in the world would this be?

   He started looking for a common denominator. He found it rather quickly,
and a cold shiver ran down his spine. Eve, he thought. Eve was the common
denominator. The dog acted strangely, when Sam came back from his first date
with her; the dog acted strangely, when Desmond shook her hand for the first
time; the damn dog acted strangely right now, after Desmond ran into her
less than an hour ago... He was pretty positive that the dog acted strangely
when he was alone with Sam, which explained the kid's cautiousness that one
time.

   Okay, he thought feverishly. Why was the damn dog acting normal when Sam
met her in that bloody bookstore for the very first time? He was shoving his
tongue down kid's throat when Sam came home that evening, and he seemed
completely fine. Desmond picked up the bag with dog food off the floor and
went into the kitchen. He dumped all the pellets into the bucket, still
trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Whatever it was, he did not
like it.

   The dog walked a little closer to him and sat down, watching him without
blinking. Desmond closed the door of the cabinet and propped his arms on his
sides.

   "Dammit, mutt..." he muttered. "What is it? What do you sense?"

   The dog moved his ears uncertainly but stayed put.

   "Shit," Desmond closed his eyes for a second. "Don't tell me this has
something to do with the whole sacrifice thing... Plus, why would you..." He
growled softly and shook his head. "Screw this," he muttered finally. "I
can't do anything about it right now, and I have that stupid dinner to worry
about, which is happening tonight... I am taking a shower and then I am
taking a nap. Do you want your food?"

   Desmond knew that the dog recognized more than several words. `Food' was
one of those words. He seemed to be hungry an hour earlier, but right now,
he didn't even move. Desmond sighed.

   "Fine," he said. "Try whining when I fall asleep, and you will be sorry."

   He went towards the bedroom, and the dog immediately moved backwards when
he got closer. Desmond gritted his teeth, thinking that he needed to do some
research on Akbash dogs. Maybe they could sense magic, he thought. Tess ran
a check-up on Sam, and according to her, he was clean. Could the damn dog be
more sensitive than Tess DeCrusse? He highly doubted that but decided to do
the research anyway.

   He took a quick shower, hoping that whatever the dog smelled on him would
wash away, and then he slid under the blankets, burying his face into the
pillow. Five minutes later, he was asleep.



****



   He was staring at the same canvas, holding the same brush. The
surroundings were different this time, however. Every single time before
this, he would be somewhere inside with nothing but canvas and the brush.
Right now, however, he was outside, on some cliff. He looked around. The
location was unknown to him. There was an old watchtower straight ahead, and
he could hear lazy splashing of water underneath the cliff. He switched his
attention to the canvas.

   The interesting-looking pattern was glowing gold in the middle of it. It
was circle-shaped, with lots of lines entwining and crossing together in a
glowing fashion. He glanced around quickly, looking for that damn dog. He
knew that the pattern was about to be complete; it was in that stage for a
while now. However, every time he was about to draw that final line, that
goddamn dog would inevitably jump him. He wasn't even sure where the hell
the beast was coming from; sometimes, it would simply appear out of thin
air, it seemed. Thanks to the dog, the pattern wasn't complete, and it was
driving him insane. He would feel a desperate rush and maddening urge every
time he looked at it. It screamed out silently, demanding for that last
line, ordering him to finish it already, screaming at him in helpless rage.
He had to complete it; he had to complete it *now*, because if he waited any
longer, he would be late, and that would mean everything was done for
nothing. He had to complete it...

   The paintbrush vibrated impatiently in his fingers and the tip of it
glowed blue, just as it always did. He glanced around once again, and took a
step towards the canvas. The pattern shimmered in sweet anticipation. He
lifted his arm, and then there was barking. It sounded almost hysterical, as
if the dog knew he was running out of time. He gritted his teeth and stepped
closer to the canvas. He is going to finish this, dammit! He knew exactly
where that last line was supposed to go, it was so obvious...

   The barking grew louder and closer. He doesn't have much time, he
thought, and bit his lip. The glowing tip of the brush trembled an inch away
from the canvas, ready to draw the last line. The barking was really close
now. He took a quick breath and brought the tip of the brush onto the
canvas, drawing that demanding line in one swift and precise motion. The
minute he did it, the entire canvas shuddered with incredible force, and
then the pattern glowed blood-red for a second. Then he was knocked off his
feet, his fingers losing the grip on the brush.

   He rolled towards the edge of the cliff, trying to fight off that damn
dog, whose teeth were very close to his throat right now. It's done, he
thought with strange satisfaction. It is finally complete. The dog's muzzle
was so close to his face, he could see his reflection in the dog's eyes.
Somehow, it didn't matter. He shoved the dog away forcefully, thinking of
jumping up, but at the last second, his ankle gave up, and the dog sunk his
teeth into his shoulder, ripping his muscles apart. He screamed louder than
he screamed in his entire life, and then both – him and the dog – flew off
the cliff. "It is complete," he thought right before he hit the sharp rocks
in the dark water beneath the cliff.



****

   He screamed out and sat up, gasping for air wildly, his heart thumping
somewhere in his throat, his entire body trembling as if he had a hell of a
fever. He looked around with wild eyes, barely registering anything he saw.
Finally, he took a deep shaky breath and looked at the clock. It was almost
four in the afternoon. Gabriel will be home soon, he thought and got off the
bed, still shaking uncontrollably.

   He went into the bathroom and turned on the cold water. He splashed it on
his face, and it helped somewhat. Finally, he turned off the water and
stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "It is complete," he
thought, and blinked rapidly. *What *is complete? He had no idea what the
thought even meant. He could not remember a single thing from his nightmare,
as usual, but this one was worse than the others, he knew that. He would
never shake so badly before.

   "What the hell is going on?" he muttered to his reflection, and the
reflection just stared at him with huge green eyes.

   He looked in the mirror for several minutes, and finally, sighed and
turned off the lights. He is going to have a cigarette, wait for Rayhe, and
bitch about the dreadful dinner, which was looming on tonight's horizon. He
will worry about the damn nightmare later.



****



   "You know, the fettuccini doesn't sound so alluring," Desmond said
gloomily at six in the evening when they were leaving the house. "It's not
worth it. Just tell them that I had to go to work..."

   "It's Solstice break," Gabriel said calmly and handed him a bottle of
wine. "Hold this, please."

   "Then tell them that I got sick," Desmond said irritably.

   "You never get sick," Gabriel sighed and locked the door of the house.

   "Then tell them..."

   "Desmond..."

   "What?"

   "Shut up!"

   "Goddammit, Rayhe...!"

   "Des, shut up and get in the car. It's important to Sam, okay? Just suck
it up and deal with several lousy hours. You can do that, can't you?"

   "Rayhe..."

   "Get in the car."

   "I am going to..."

   "Goddammit, Desmond! Just get in the damn car!"

   Desmond glared at Rayhe for a full minute. Finally, he shoved that bottle
of wine into Gabriel's hands and marched towards the car. Gabriel rolled his
eyes and followed him. When they were inside the car, Gabriel almost said
something that would include words `tantrum' and `baby' in it. Then he
looked at Desmond and wisely decided against it. He kept his mouth shut
until he got to the address Sam gave him earlier.

   "We are here," he said mildly after he parked behind Sam's car.

   Desmond opened the door and got out without saying a single word. Gabriel
sighed deeply and climbed out as well. Desmond waited for him on the
sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets.

   "I am not staying for longer than two hours," he said shortly.

   "Okay," Gabriel said as mildly as before.

   "Stop talking to me like you trying to calm down a horse," Desmond
snapped.

   "Okay," Gabriel nodded.

   Desmond gritted his teeth and said nothing else. He silently followed
Rayhe towards the front door. Gabriel rang the bell, and a minute later, Sam
opened the door. He looked excited and scared at the same time. He let out a
small, relieved sigh when he saw Desmond, as if he firmly believed that
Rayhe (or any other power in this world for that matter) would not be able
to get him here tonight.

   "Hey, guys," he said quickly. "Come in..."

   "Hey, Sam," Gabriel said in the same mild manner.

   Desmond's jaw was hurting from all the teeth grinding. He followed
Gabriel inside the house. "Two hours," he thought. "Two bloody hours... Two
hours and I am out of here... If Rayhe wants to stay, he can, I don't care.
I'll walk home."

   "Blair!" Sam yelled in the general direction of the living room.

   Desmond took a breath and made a hell of an effort to unlock his jaw. It
worked, but only partially.

   "Hey," he heard a strangely familiar voice, and he blinked in disbelief.
This could not possibly be...

   "Oh, hell, no...!" they said at the same time when they saw each other.