composure and approached me. "I wanted to break you and you escaped me."
Could I fight here? How would that even work?
"I was lost and desperate and wondered who you were," he continued, getting closer. "And then, here you are."
I backed up slowly, even if it made my position less threatening. This thing I was looking at wasn't quite human. The thought of it close to me was frightening.
I could just wake up, right?
Nero's eyes glazed over in a deathly white pallor. "You should never have come here."
I felt stuck as I tried to step back again. My arms were at my sides and they wiggled like soggy noodles. I couldn't raise them. The thing that had been Soren advanced and my entire body heaved in place.
I was stuck in water again, but that didn't prevent the scabbed spirit from effortlessly gliding forward and snatching my neck into his long hands. Overgrown, twisted, and broken fingernails scratched my skin. I opened my mouth wide and let out an empty scream.
And then I was in my bed, convulsing. The comforter was wrapped around me snugly, and I had to wiggle back and forth to free my arms and roll over onto my elbows.
The sun was already up, although the shuttered blinds did a good job of holding back the day. My shoes, shirt, and jeans were where I had left them, right on the floor, and everything appeared normal.
I needed to stop drinking right before bed.
Sunday
The next morning was like most Sunday mornings. I slept in a little later than I would have liked, first only getting up to swallow an aspirin, take a dump, and force down a glass of water before passing out again. That is as good a prescription for hangovers as I've found.
By the time I woke up for good it was noon. My apartment still had a slight November chill so I opened the vertical blinds and got a lovely view of the North Hollywood Metro Station across the street. The buses that periodically shuffled in and out were a bit loud but the convenience of the location trumped the distraction—I could hit Hollywood and Downtown with the Red Line without needing to drive or look for parking or suffer valet service. I did like to drive, of course, but I also did a fair share of drinking.
I sat down on the couch with my laptop on the coffee table in front of me. I worked in the video game industry, and I had some contract programming to catch up on. I had originally thought to get ahead this weekend, but I couldn't bring myself to open Visual Studio. It was easy to find distractions. Right now, front and center were the other objects on the table. I was drawn away by a chunk of metal sitting next to an empty rocks glass from last night.
It was Soren's ring. I must have removed the bulky thing from my pocket before I went at it with Rachel. I hefted it in my palm and examined it. It was heavy. Looked like a small horseshoe that wrapped around the finger, open at the top end just enough to preserve the effect. It was oblong and bulky and not at all convenient to keep on one's finger. But Soren did. Or Nero, anyway.
What was it they said about horseshoes bringing good luck?
I browsed Wikipedia and new age Wicca blogs. Going from encyclopedic style, heavy on references, to trust-me-I'm-mysterious was interesting. But the information was more or less the same. Horseshoes warded off spirits because they were iron of the earth. I leaned back on the couch. Fat lot of good the iron did for Soren.
That shade, that fiend on the Dead Side—it still sent chills down my spine. I glanced out the sliding glass doors to the balcony and enjoyed the light of the day. If I was going to one day be stuck on the lonely streets of a gloomy Downtown Los Angeles, I might as well enjoy the sun when I could. Of course, the bliss didn't last long. I kept thinking about my dream. Then my thoughts drifted to other mysteries. The owl. The man in the plaid trench coat. Livia.
I had known Violet for four years and there was so much about her that still puzzled me. Now
Could I fight here? How would that even work?
"I was lost and desperate and wondered who you were," he continued, getting closer. "And then, here you are."
I backed up slowly, even if it made my position less threatening. This thing I was looking at wasn't quite human. The thought of it close to me was frightening.
I could just wake up, right?
Nero's eyes glazed over in a deathly white pallor. "You should never have come here."
I felt stuck as I tried to step back again. My arms were at my sides and they wiggled like soggy noodles. I couldn't raise them. The thing that had been Soren advanced and my entire body heaved in place.
I was stuck in water again, but that didn't prevent the scabbed spirit from effortlessly gliding forward and snatching my neck into his long hands. Overgrown, twisted, and broken fingernails scratched my skin. I opened my mouth wide and let out an empty scream.
And then I was in my bed, convulsing. The comforter was wrapped around me snugly, and I had to wiggle back and forth to free my arms and roll over onto my elbows.
The sun was already up, although the shuttered blinds did a good job of holding back the day. My shoes, shirt, and jeans were where I had left them, right on the floor, and everything appeared normal.
I needed to stop drinking right before bed.
Sunday
The next morning was like most Sunday mornings. I slept in a little later than I would have liked, first only getting up to swallow an aspirin, take a dump, and force down a glass of water before passing out again. That is as good a prescription for hangovers as I've found.
By the time I woke up for good it was noon. My apartment still had a slight November chill so I opened the vertical blinds and got a lovely view of the North Hollywood Metro Station across the street. The buses that periodically shuffled in and out were a bit loud but the convenience of the location trumped the distraction—I could hit Hollywood and Downtown with the Red Line without needing to drive or look for parking or suffer valet service. I did like to drive, of course, but I also did a fair share of drinking.
I sat down on the couch with my laptop on the coffee table in front of me. I worked in the video game industry, and I had some contract programming to catch up on. I had originally thought to get ahead this weekend, but I couldn't bring myself to open Visual Studio. It was easy to find distractions. Right now, front and center were the other objects on the table. I was drawn away by a chunk of metal sitting next to an empty rocks glass from last night.
It was Soren's ring. I must have removed the bulky thing from my pocket before I went at it with Rachel. I hefted it in my palm and examined it. It was heavy. Looked like a small horseshoe that wrapped around the finger, open at the top end just enough to preserve the effect. It was oblong and bulky and not at all convenient to keep on one's finger. But Soren did. Or Nero, anyway.
What was it they said about horseshoes bringing good luck?
I browsed Wikipedia and new age Wicca blogs. Going from encyclopedic style, heavy on references, to trust-me-I'm-mysterious was interesting. But the information was more or less the same. Horseshoes warded off spirits because they were iron of the earth. I leaned back on the couch. Fat lot of good the iron did for Soren.
That shade, that fiend on the Dead Side—it still sent chills down my spine. I glanced out the sliding glass doors to the balcony and enjoyed the light of the day. If I was going to one day be stuck on the lonely streets of a gloomy Downtown Los Angeles, I might as well enjoy the sun when I could. Of course, the bliss didn't last long. I kept thinking about my dream. Then my thoughts drifted to other mysteries. The owl. The man in the plaid trench coat. Livia.
I had known Violet for four years and there was so much about her that still puzzled me. Now
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