What Dreams May Come: Chapter 5 (part 1)

Here (finally) is the first part of Chapter 5 in the supernatural thriller “What Dreams May Come.” This chapter has run away from me a bit so I am putting up the first part only, the second part to follow soon (hopefully). Hope you enjoy!

What Dreams May Come
Previous Chapters:
           Chapters 1 & 2
           Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter 5: Exit, Enter, Pirouette (part 1)

She was back in the break room, the stark white walls nearly glowing under the bright florescent lighting. All of the chairs were still where she had left them, though the ceiling was back where it belonged. Across from her the doorway gaped open. As she moved towards it she noticed for the first time the pictures on either side of it. They were almost art deco in style, their subjects two gargoyles, their thin boned arms folded back along their muscular bodies. They seemed to stare right at her, their teeth bared in anger.

“Just some damn pictures.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kaia sidled past them and through the black mouth yawning before her.

Blinking, she emerged onto a deserted street. Every window and every street lamp was blacked out as sirens wailed forlornly in the distance. Over head the droning of planes swelled, echoing off the buildings, together with the sirens doubling back ever louder until she had to clamp her hands over her ears. A tall man in a trench coat was running past when he spotted her and slowed to halt. His large hands grasped her shoulders tightly as he dragged her close so he could shout in her ear.

“It’s an air raid; you need to get yourself inside right now!” She could barely make out his words above the din and then he was gone. Kaia looked down at the note he left folded in her hands. Her fingers shook as she slowly opened the thick paper. Scrawled in a strong masculine hand was an address.

“60 Fifth Street.”

There was a flash of gunfire overhead, the bright flare briefly illuminating the street, in that instant, Kaia was able to make out the sign marking the street to her left as Fifth street. Shoving the note into her pocket, she jogged to the street corner. As her foot touched the pavement, an invisible hand flung her to the ground. Her ragdoll body flopped along the pavement as bits of debris shattered into the earth around her. Willing her boneless arms to move, Kaia pushed herself up until she managed to kneel shakily on the street. In the light of the dying bombshell, she made out a black sign adorned with three casks flanked by flowering hops. The Three Tuns. Dragging herself to her feet, Kaia stumbled towards the opened door of the pub.

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind her and Kaia sagged against it, fighting the tears which stung at her eyes as her brain began to register each of the myriad cuts which crisscrossed her body. As the sudden silence roared in her ears, Kaia edged deeper into the empty bar. A single lamp burned atop a small table in the center of the room; beyond it stood the door. Nearly sobbing with relief, she flew past the gargoyles glaring down from the faces of the mugs along the shelves and threw herself into the door. The knob clattered beneath her clenched hands, stoutly refusing to turn. Abandoning the handle, Kaia flung herself against the wood repeatedly, the sobs bursting from her body with each sharp impact. At last, exhausted, she crumpled into a ball along the floor. Kaia shuddered and tilted her head back, her eyes falling on the little stand alone in the middle of the bar. Carefully she rose to her feet, narrowed eyes never leaving the table. As she drew closer, she noticed three small boxes, their tops covered in tiny mosaic tiles. It seemed almost as if they would form a picture except that they were jumbled.

Kaia grabbed hold of the table’s edge as the floor swayed beneath her. The glass was rattling ominously in the panes, the light from another bomb burning red along the edges of the blackout curtains. Next to the boxes lay a sheet of white paper, written with the same bold handwriting that scrawled along the note in her pocket.

Illuminate through open space. Obscure the way again.
Brass and iron yield at touch. The instruments of men.
I pledge my body, to only you, the one with whom I lie
but loyalty is fleeting, sir, no hand may I deny.
For I am but a single half though more of me may spin.
Exit, enter, pirouette, so you might step within.

Nothing but White

I took that photo early this morning while I was supervising. I hate the drive in but I love the wildlife and remote feel of our campus. This story was inspired partly by a story I read of my boyfriend’s. I haven’t ever really explored my emotions and turmoil that surrounded the last year of my Great-Grandmother’s life, who I affectionately called “Big Grandma.” She suffered from senile dementia and deteriorated to the point that, for the last 9 months we had no choice but to place her in a nursing home. I was nearly 14 when she passed and we had been extremely close, she was almost like a 3rd mother to me (my Grannie being my 2nd Ma ). Hope you enjoy!

“Nothing but White”

The walls, the floor, the people are all blinding white, like the snowy static on old T.V. sets slowly overtaking her other senses until her mind is as numbingly blank as her surroundings. Voices call out to her, yet not, their owners fading eyes seeing only what they wish they saw, what they once saw a long time ago. She does her best to ignore them, a wan smile all she can manage as she slips past; the knot in the center of her chest tightening. A doorway yawns ahead and her steps unconsciously slow to a crawl until she hovers beside the door, forehead resting on the cool frame. The woman inside lies motionless in the narrow bed, her vacant stare fixed unseeing on the anemic ceiling. “Big Grandma?” she calls out hesitantly, suddenly a small child again. The woman’s pale scalp shines through the steely hair grown thin and wiry with age. She closes her eyes and tries not to think of how it used to curl gently in a snow-white halo about her face. Drawing an unsteady breath, she opens her eyes and breaks into the room with quick, light steps, the momentum of her conviction numbly carrying her across the sterile room until she found herself alongside the bed. Her fingers move of their own accord, gently enveloping the woman’s frail hand in her own, nearly wincing as the ice-cold skin beneath leeched the warmth from her own. The woman’s lips are moving soundlessly but the girl as learned by now that it was better not to hear. Instead, she leans over, forcing the image of the woman that was to fade as the woman who once was replaces her in the girl’s mind. Her voice thick with a borrowed accent she whispers, “Big Grandma, it’s me. It’s Kjersten.” A spark of life flickered in the woman’s eyes, igniting a frenzied wildfire of hope that roared to life unbidden within the girl’s chest. The pillow rustles softly as her Big Grandma looks back at the girl, her pallid lips widening into a beatific smile. “Ah, my Kjersten.” A sob catches on the back of her throat. “Yes! Yes, it’s me Big Grandma.” Then, with the same ruthless abruptness of clouds blotting out the sun plunging the world into darkness after only the briefest glimpse of illumination, she was gone. Alone once more, surrounded by nothing but white.

Torment

The writing group I am a part of on Google+ was shared a writing prompt today. It was really open ended, the prompt only being “reflections.” It drew forth a number of ideas for stories in each story line on this blog, but as I wanted to finish it today and kept getting distracted by a drawing I’m working on (I’m so excited, if it turns out like I hope it will, I’ll share it with all of you awesome webbies within a few days!!) so I instead wrote a quick, descriptive short. Hope you like!

Hideous. It was the only thing that could possibly describe it. The monstrosity loomed at her, its distorted face mocking her as a stumped claw stretched outwards. She closed her eyes and swung away, her hair falling in a curtain, shutting out the pathetic form from her vision. There was a burning rising from the center of her chest, searing her throat until it erupted from her mouth in a tormented scream. “Leave me alone!”

She ran from the room, out into the hallway and skidded to a stop as she came face to face with the horror once more. “Please,” sobs racked her body as she wrapped her arms about her middle, “please, I don’t want to see you anymore.” As the beast stared dispassionately back at the girl, she felt the tears pricking the backs of her eyes. She spun on her heel and began to pace before the creature, its grotesque body swaying each time she dared to glance in its direction. “I hate you,” she whispered hoarsely and met the ogre’s eyes which glittered at her with barely contained fury. Her face twisted with revulsion. “You’re disgusting!” Her voice rose vehemently, her hands balling into tight fists as the words surged from her mouth like a dark river of hatred. “No one loves you, no one even likes you!” The tears spilling over left cool traces down her burning cheeks. “I never want to see your ugly face again,” her fingers curled about the thick base of a lamp and she flung it with all her might. It hit the fiend directly in the heart, shattering her demon, leaving its remains scattered along the floor. In even the smallest shard, a perfect replica of the beast gazed icily up at her. With a strangled cry, her legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor. “Please,” her gaze darted between the countless facsimiles, “just go away…”

Chapter 1: Blood Ties

I woke up today sick as a dog, but I managed to get this story out! I’m excited for it, it is sort of my take on steampunk, alchemy, and bards (I know, I have an addiction to musicians…they are so much fun to write about!) I even got time to sketch out a quick pic of the three bards – though I will have to eventually scan it in with a real scanner as I cannot seem to snap a picture that’s not blurry I hope to steal my dad’s map making program and whip up a map of the world to include – so the place names will eventually make more sense. Hope you enjoy!

The Great Work

“All things began in order, so shall they end, so shall they begin again according to the Ordainer of Order and the mystical mathematics of the City of Heaven.”

Book 1: Dragon’s Blood

Chapter 1: Blood Ties

28 Years Ago

Low Hollow Inn, Rieth Moor

The Low Hollow Inn was a ramshackle affair, all but sunk into the ancient Rieth Moor which lay nestled between the mountains of Dibennor. A low-slung roof, which sagged disheartingly in the middle, only partially hid the ancient and crumbling masonry. Its windows stared back out at the black trees with sad and broken eyes. Still, as it was the only refuge for the few who travelled the moor, it never was without a few patrons.

Rain lashed angrily at the window above his head, the rhythmic drumming lulling the young lad beside him into a light slumber. The gray-haired man patted the boy’s dark head affectionately, closing his eyes as the thunder sent shivers running down the wall behind him. Since they had sought refuge within the long sloping walls of the inn, the storm had only grown in intensity. He spared a brief moment of pity for the poor souls yet caught out of doors, left struggling against Nature’s fury. As if in response to his thoughts, the thick wooden door burst open violently and a tattered form stumbled a few steps inside. The thick smell of wet goat permeated the room and Aldan’s nose wrinkled involuntarily as the sharp smell of copper mixed in with it. Blood.

“Please,” the wretched figure wheezed, “please, you must help her.”

The pile of rags shifted and Aldan noticed for the first time a woman huddled at his feet. Her raven hair was plastered to her face with rain and blood, a slender ivory arm draped weakly along her swollen belly. Her beautiful face contorted as a spasm rippled through her body. Ignoring his aching bones, Aldan shook the boy roughly as he started towards her.

“Wendell! Fetch my bag,” he barked gruffly at the sleepy lad, whose hand darted more out of instinct than intent to snatch the worn leather bag from beside him before scrambling after his master.>

As he knelt beside her, the woman’s eyes, glazed over with pain, locked on his. “Master Alchemist,” her voice, though strained, had a lilting tilt he could not place, “my baby…”

Turning, Aldan searched for the cloaked shadow that had dragged her in. When he realized the figure was gone, he cursed under his breath and directed his attention back to the woman. Shouting orders at anyone who dared approach, Aldan struggled to aid the mysterious woman as labor pains wracked her body. His apprentice used a large block of chalk to mark along the floor until she lay within an intricate circle of symbols; as her spine bent beneath a new paroxysm, the strange cyphers seemed to shimmer slightly. His task complete, Wendell stood near her head, the white chalk held limply between his fingers. Unable to meet the young lad’s troubled gaze, the old alchemist busied himself with laying fresh towels on the brazier to be sterilized. “Summon a sprite lad,” between the contractions, he regarded the tormented form with sorrow, “best offer her what solace we can.” Deep lacerations crossed her body, the angry red eyes gaping up at him. It was a miracle the woman was still breathing.

“Her wounds no longer bleed,” the somber eyes of his apprentice were fixed on the jagged edges of the wound beneath his hands, “she’s lost so much blood.” His deft fingers manipulated the small mechanisms of the elemental orb. The seal binding the elemental blazed a deep azure as the normally belligerent sprite lent its power willingly. As the lines etched into the woman’s face eased somewhat, the sprite seemed almost to cry, its thin arms stretching out to the woman from behind the bars of its cage. The globe was cradled gently in Wendell’s hands, the light emanating from the elemental casting his face in an eerie light. He spoke in a low voice, his fingers tightening slightly on the sprite’s chamber. “She isn’t going to make it, is she.”

Aldan was almost relieved as another wave of contractions prevented him acknowledging the boy’s statement. A harsh cry was torn from her throat as her baby fought its way into the world. Gently as he could, Aldan eased the child along until at last the soft cry of the babe joined her mother’s. Quickly, he swaddled the child and laid her beside her mother.

“You did well lass, you and your husband have a beautiful daughter.”

Her hand locked about his wrist with surprising strength. “No…no father…dead.” The woman opened her clenched hand to reveal a delicate gold and glass pendent twisted into the form of a dragon biting his own tail. Quicksilver swirled beneath the scales, causing the dragon to dance in the low light. Her fevered gaze held his as she pressed the amulet into his hands. “This…will be her…guide…”

The old alchemist seemed to have aged a decade in one evening, the furrows creasing his brow deepening as he watched the last vestiges of life ebb from the unknown woman. Her face was turned towards her daughter’s and she seemed to be whispering to her in a frenzied delirium. “Quickly now lass,” his voice cracked slightly as he felt her hand grow cold beneath his, “tell me her name.” She was so still he worried he might have asked too late, it was an ill omen for a child to be born without a Naming and this poor girl would need all the luck she could get. Then from between her parted lips, she breathed her orphan’s name.

“Thais.”

Present Day

The Conservatory, Evenheim Valley

The Conservatory was a giant stone fortress rising imperially from the emerald forest surrounding it. For five hundred years, aspiring bards had flocked to its marble halls. Many a young child was recruited to come and study the arts of storytelling, music, oration, and acrobatics. Beginning as Scops, they labored for years to attain the rank of Minstrel before finally graduating as versatile Balladeers or the more lithe Jongleurs. Still, it took years more of travelling before one could earn the prestigious rank of Troubadour. The Conservatory’s members were known for offering their services as skilled entertainers, diplomats, and even, it was rumored, as spies.

Aldan leaned wearily on his walking staff as his gaze roamed the courtyard of the Conservatory. In a shaded corner, young Scops ran inexperienced hands nervously along their instruments as they watched the Balladeers intently. A few veteran Troubadours, only recently returned from their travels, lounged along the fountain’s steps. The quiet murmur of the water not enough to mask the lively tales spun for the enjoyment of the young ones huddled at their feet. A couple of Minstrels hovered along the fringes, doing their best to appear unimpressed with the vivid accounts of the far-away lands and colorful peoples they had yet only read about.

The old alchemist frowned and turned to the young man beside him. His broad shoulders were bent over the mechanized innards of the automaton, ignoring the sprite that seemed determined to distract him. It squealed at him in a high-pitched voice, lashing out in its strange tongue mockingly, as he painstakingly retraced the miniscule symbols painted on the metal’s surface.

“Wend, lad, do you see?”

Wendell tilted his face towards his old master. Behind the rounded lenses, his stormy eyes were distorted so they seemed almost to bulge out of his face. Rapping the elemental’s orb brusquely, he jerked the goggles off his head, causing his bronzed hair to stand up haphazardly. Scrubbing a hand along the rough stubble of his cheek, his gaze flicked about the yard. He gestured impatiently towards a young Jongleur in bright turquoise silks before he turned his attention back to the seal, muttering under his breath.

The young woman flicked her raven braid over her shoulder as she spoke to the students before her. Swinging her arms down, she bent slightly at the knees, carefully balanced on the balls of her feet, before springing, stretched tight as a drum, into the air. Her knees tucked lightly into her chest as her body spun in an effortless arc, then straightened as the ground rushed up to meet her dainty feet. Her body bent faintly, absorbing the impact of the landing, before uncurling in a flash. She stood still as a statue, her arms spread before her in a flourish, the swaying of her braid the only indication that she had stirred.

As the old alchemist called out her name, the woman turned, a warm smile dimpling her cheeks. The pendant at her neck flashed as it caught the sunlight. In the red glow of the dying day, the dragon appeared to undulate against her pale skin, its eyes flashing as its fangs sank further into the quicksilver scales of its tail.

“Thais!”

Chapters 3 & 4 of ‘What Dreams May Come’

What Dreams May Come

Read Chapters 1 & 2

Chapter 3: Good News and Bad News

Flinging her bag onto the worn couch, Kaia kicked off her shoes and wandered towards the kitchen. Pressing a hand against her growling stomach, she moaned as she thought of the meager lunch she had snagged when the class had gone on break. Digging through her purse as she walked, Kaia fished out her cell, grimacing as she realized it had died. Turning on her heel, she backtracked into the living room. She dropped to her knees and peered under the table, searching for the power cord. Plopping down onto the floor, she powered up her phone. The new voicemail message blinked back at her insistently.

“Hey there hon, guessing you let your phone die again?” Kaia felt a warm smile spread across her face as the sound of Brian’s deep voice came over the line. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Marcus and Devon hired me on as a lawyer now and I’ve already got my first case.” Kaia did a silent fist pump. Brian had been interning for the Marcus and Devon Law Firm since his first year as a law student, she knew how excited he must be to have been brought on as a lawyer right after passing his bar. “Now for the bad news, the case I’m handling is down in Little Egypt. I’ll be down in Carbondale for the next few days. Wish I had time to say good bye in person. Love you!”

__________________________________________________________

The two gargoyles loomed above her, their great wings spanning the archway, the heart of the labyrinth beyond obscured in shadow. Kaia stepped forward tentatively, her eyes darting between the stone guardians. White light speared her eyes and she squinted as she passed through the entrance. Blinking away the tears, she peered around her in astonishment. A typical office complex spread out before her, the neatly ordered rows of cubicles stretching as far as her eyes could see. Bright fluorescent lights washed out all color and dimension the space might otherwise have had, leaving all it touched devoid of any trace of life. There was a grating sound of stone grinding upon itself and Kaia spun about to find the way she had come blocked by a giant stone slab. Engraved upon its surface was a message and her fingertip trailed along the polished grooves as she read.

“Discovered in Africa, I spread like a tide
To become a hot staple known the world wide.
A necessity to some, a treasure to many,
I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company.

Some like me hot and some like me cold.
Some prefer mild, others only bold.
Some take me straight, while some like to savor
My essence to which has been added a flavor.

So put down your cares and sit awhile with me;
I’ll send you back refreshed and full of energy.”

Kaia stepped back and stared at the wall, her mouth twisted in disgust. “What the fuck.” Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb. “Hot staple…Africa…wait a minute…” her head came up and she frowned, remembering an old history paper she had written, “Coffee! But where would I find…” Turning in a slow circle, she peered down the stark white aisles searching for a clue as to what direction she should take. Closing her eyes, she spun around until her head felt as if it would fly right off her shoulders. Kaia waited until the tilting world came to a halt before setting off down the path before her.

Empty cubicles lay in even, geometric patterns along either side of her. Inside each was a computer, the light from their blank screens casting alternating waves of sickly white light and deep shadow as she passed. Goosebumps tingled down her arms, lifting the sensitive hairs until Kaia felt as if she would scream. There was near complete silence, only the soft droning of the computers and her muffled footfalls along the braided carpeting. She was about to turn back and try another path when she spotted a small placard beside a rather inconspicuous door.

“Room 365: Break Room. This must be it.” Her hand stretched out towards the dented brass doorknob, the metal cool against her clammy palm. As the door creaked open, she stuck her head inside. The tiled floor was a checkerboard of mottled gray and teal squares. Six chairs were placed seemingly haphazardly along the floor, each one fitting neatly inside one of the square tiles. What intrigued her the most, however, was the missing tile directly in the center of the room. Tucking a wayward copper strand behind her ear, Kaia stepped fully into the room. As her foot brushed the first of the tiles she heard the soft click of the door shutting behind her and the chilling finality of the lock sliding into place. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as a thin cloud of dust fell from the panels above and a terrible grating sound tore at her ears. The ceiling was falling.

Kaia’s eyes were drawn back to the chairs. A memory tugged at the dim corners of her mind. There was something familiar about this. On a hunch, she grabbed the first chair and pushed until her cheeks were flushed with the effort but it wouldn’t budge. The taste of copper flooded her mouth as Kaia bit her lip so hard it bled. Stepping back, she tried to ignore the ominous rumbling of the ceiling as it fell, inch by inch, towards her head. Running over to the far chair, she gave it a shove, her breath rushing from her in a relief as it shifted a few squares. Carefully she moved each chair, square by painstaking square, until suddenly one lifted right off the floor. Tossing it aside, she began working on the rest of the chairs until at last there was only the one chair left. The ceiling was brushing against the top of her head now and Kaia was forced to crawl along the floor as she pushed the final chair into the hole in the center of the room. As the legs thumped into position, the corresponding hole in the ceiling clicked into place along the back of the chair and stopped.

Kaia flopped boneless to the floor, the cold tiles pressing against her heated cheeks sending shivers rolling down her spine. There was a sound of a door sliding open and she rolled so she could see the far end of the room where the mouth of a doorway now yawned open. Shifting her weight, Kaia began to army crawl along the floor until she reached the door. As she passed into the inky blackness an insistent buzzing sound filled her ears.

Slapping a hand along the snooze button, Kaia moaned as she rolled over. The sheets were twisted about her body. Pillows lay scattered across the room where they had been thrown. Scrubbing a hand across her face, Kaia gasped as pain lanced through her lips. Drawing her hand back, she stared in shock at the bright smear of red staining her palm as the acrid taste of blood met her tongue.

_________________________________________________________

Chapter 4: It Was Just a Dream

“It’s just weird, isn’t it?” Kaia frowned as she tore the crust off her sandwich. The weak winter sunlight struggled through the windowpane to fall along her table. Emily sat opposite her in the booth, her fork twirling absentmindedly in her pasta.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, it was just a dream. It’s probably just like Dr. Lydell said in class yesterday. Our waking life is thought to influence our dream state. I bet the combination of that puzzle book and the section on dreams is just getting jumbled up in your sleep.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Kaia peeled the pickles off the turkey and replaced the slice of bread. Her dark eyes met Emily’s laughing green gaze as she lifted the sandwich to her mouth. “What?”

“Why do you ask for pickles if you just take them off?”

Kaia shrugged indifferently as she swallowed a mouthful. “I’ll still eat them. I like pickles, just not on my sandwich.”

Emily just shook her head and popped a ripe cherry tomato into her mouth.

________________________________________________________

Kaia was perched uncomfortably on the edge of the hard wooden chair awaiting the dour librarian’s return. The same ancient lights hung suspended from the dank ceiling, their weak light casting hazy circles on the chipped paint of the floor. Her fingers beat out a quick, staccato beat as her gaze lazily perused the titles along the shelf beside her. Their careworn faces were often scarred, worn by decades of use. Once elegant gold filigree now looked cheap, it’s painted veneer flaking off to reveal the cracked leather hidden beneath. Her attention was drawn to the quiet swish of the librarian’s skirt against the shelves. Her lined face was every bit as worn as the books surrounding her. Not for the first time, Kaia thought she looked like she belonged down here amongst the old, forgotten tomes.

“Your book,” her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, the harsh tones gravelly as if she had something caught in her throat.

“Thank you,” Kaia replied meekly as she accepted the small cloth bound book. Nearly running in her hurry to be rid of the curmudgeon, she made for the small table near the center of the room. As she slid into her seat, she found her eyes were drawn to the aisle where before she had found the book of puzzles. Ignoring the impulse to try and find that book again, she drew out her notebook and began dutifully taking notes.

A few hours and a terrible crick in her neck later, Kaia threw down her pen and leaned back in her chair until it rested solely on the rear legs. Again she felt an inexplicable compulsion to find that book. This time, however, she pushed her chair back, its feet screeching against the concrete floor as if in protest.

“It was shelf 5 I think,” she muttered to herself as her fingers trailed along the faded markers. She had just about given up when she spotted it lying unobtrusively alongside a treatise on the effects of certain plant oils on rheumatism. Hugging it to her, she ran back to her table and flipped through the pages impatiently until she spotted the last puzzle, the double page maze. Her eyes widened as she looked it over, every detail was identical to her dream. As she held it closer to inspect it, she noticed that something appeared to be written on the other side of the page. Gently, she turned the page, her breath catching in her chest at what she saw. The book fell from her bloodless hands, slamming against the floor with a dull thud. The pages fluttered like the wings of a bird, settling finally with that page facing her. Scrawled along the back of the page, were instructions on how to complete the maze, in her handwriting.

Her hands were shaking as she bent to retrieve the book. Kaia slammed the cover shut as she noticed now that along the opposite page was the same puzzle from her dream from the night before. “This isn’t real. It’s just a trick of my subconscious.” The hoarse whisper sounded insincere, even to her. She shoved the book away from her and grabbed up her bag. Kaia spared only a fleeting glance over her shoulder at the small, insignificant book lying on the table behind her before dashing up the steps to the main level of the library.

______________________________________________________

“You want it dragged through the garden, miss?” The heavy set man’s face was flushed from the steam pouring off the hot dogs simmering in the water before him. Chicago hot dogs are the best in the world, just ask the guys that sell them. A kosher, all beef hot dog, water simmered, topped with yellow mustard, white onions, piccalilli, pickled sport peppers, tomato slices, a dill pickle and a dash of celery salt all on a poppy seed bun. Kaia’s stomach rumbled just thinking about it.

“Oh yes, thank you.”

“You seem distracted,” Emily’s voice carried a hint of worry, “and I didn’t really want to say anything but those dark circles are god awful. Have you been sleeping all right?”

Kaia sighed and picked some poppy seeds off her hot dog bun absentmindedly as the two began walking away from the street vendor. She glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye. Emily’s honey blonde hair hang in stick straight curtains, perfectly framing her oval face as she attempted to cram a rather unladylike-sized bite into her mouth. For an instant, Kaia thought about telling her of the second dream and the notes in the puzzle book. “Brian’s gone; it’s funny how hard it is to sleep without him there.” A corner of her mouth lifted in a sardonic grin, “you’d think I’d be sleeping better without him snoring like a bear.”

Behind them at the vendor’s cart she heard an argument erupt. “But I like ketchup on my hot dog.”

“And I told you,” the vendor’s voice was low and brimming with anger, “we don’t have ketchup here. You’ll not be ruining my hot dogs with that shit!”

Emily giggled around the bite of hot dog in her mouth. “Ah tourists, always good for a laugh.”

A shadow passed over the two women as they walked and Kaia glanced up at the century old architecture of the building that loomed over them. Perched atop a crumbling stone ledge near the top floor giant stone gargoyles flanked the dark windows. Their stoic faces scowled in warning down at all who dared pass beneath them.