Veiled Dreams, Part I

October 23^rd, 2010

It had been a typical Scottish night, with thick pillows of cloud masking the gorged full moon and sheets of rain pelting the ground, as it had been for days. Fallon pressed her forehead against the car window and crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to retain as much warmth as possible.

"What's crawled up your arse?" Lysa asked.

"Shit, sorry," Fallon said. "It's these dreams I've been having…ever since the rain started. They're really messing with my head."

Lysa took a drag of her cigarette, pushed her shaggy blonde locks away from her face and looked sideways at Fallon. "Well, cut the shite out and fast, girl. We're almost there," she said.

"You're lucky I love you, Lysa. The circus? Really? This girl better be something special," Fallon said, nudging her elbow lightly into Lysa's.

"What's your problem with Circuses? They're fun! And the girl is totally worth it. I think I might be in love, actually."

"So long as you're happy and she doesn't hurt you…I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"Don't say anything stupid, Fal! I'll have your guts for garters."

"So says the girl who wouldn't be caught dead in anything so feminine. Don't worry, I won't tell her about what you did at T in the Park." Fallon started to laugh and Lysa flicked her cigarette out of the cracked window.

"Shut yer hole, Fallon. What happens at T stays at T, right?"

Fallon didn't answer. Instead she continued to laugh softly to herself, thankful that she had even an iota of time that her nightmares did not flicker through her head. They had felt so real, and she was waking in a cold sweat at three in the morning every night, clutching desperately at her pounding heart. There had never been a solid image to grasp on to, only the feeling of entrapment—her body wrapped in a swirl of nothingness.

Fantastic…now I'm thinking about it again. Will it ever stop?

Lysa jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. Her hands flew wildly above her head and she cursed at the tall man walking in front of the vehicle. "Watch it, arsehole! I swear…some folk are just determined to die—walking when a death machine is hurtling towards them. You got a death wish, buddy?"

The man's bright silver eyes set on Fallon. She felt trapped in his gaze; unable to breathe. It was dark, and the headlights only shone on his dark shirt and highlighting the lines of his face. He was gorgeous, but it hadn't been his looks that had Fallon stock-still, his very presence tugged at the veins in her arms, and told her heart when it could beat. For that split second, Fallon Ròs did not belong to herself. The wind blew threw the crack in Lysa's window, throwing Fallon's hair away from her neck.

"Hey, wakey-wakey," Lysa said, and it was only when she snapped her fingers that Fallon fell out of her trance. The man was no longer standing there. "What the hell was that? You want a winch off that arse? He has some weird crap going on in his eyes. I really wish you'd just switch sides…"

"I'm not gay, Lysa. It's not a matter of choice and you know that," Fallon said.

"I know. I just worry about you."

They pulled into the parking lot, which was essentially a field that the farmer rented out for events, and simultaneously sighed at the rain. They laughed, and Fallon had been glad that the awkward silence had been snuffed almost as soon as it started.

With the hood of her leather jacket pulled over her head, Fallon stepped out of the car and immediately headed towards the red blinking lights of the entrance, with Lysa only a few steps behind. The sign read, Welcome to Zirkus der Träume!

"We're early, so we have some time before meeting Layla," Lysa said, and hooked Fallon's arm in hers.

"A ride?" Fallon suggested, looking up at the rainbow lit big-wheel. She wasn't particularly a fan of them, but it sure beat standing around.

"Or a tarot reading!" Lysa's grip on Fallon's arm tightened and she pulled her off to the left, where an old trailer stood. It had been painted dark blue, maybe a few decades ago, with little white stars sporadically placed across the decaying wood. It hardly looked inviting.

"I'm not paying for someone to tell me a bunch of lies," Fallon said, pulling them both to a stop.

"I'll pay, if you stop being such a baby about everything. C'mon, it'll be fun. Maybe she'll tell you all about your string-bean-stranger."

"String-bean-stranger? You come up with that all by yourself?"

"Lysa Reid, the one and only. I'll be here all night!" Lysa bowed and simulated tipping an imaginary hat from her head.

"Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. I've been a wet blanket all night. If you want a tarot reading, then we'll get a tarot reading."

Lysa lead Fallon through the black beaded curtain, following the scent of incense and patchouli. Inside, the trailer was old and dust laden, the rugs faded and ancient. But the young girl at the table was not what either of them had expected, going by Lysa's disgruntled expression. She couldn't have been much older than them—early twenties—with dark curls, big brown eyes and puckered red lips. She wore a sheer dress the very same shade as her pale skin. Fallon had to knock into Lysa to stop her from staring at the girl's nipples that could be seen through the thin material.

"Evenin', girls. I'm Lady Cherie. What can I help you with tonight?" The girl asked. She was shuffling a tall deck of cards effortlessly in her hands, without looking. Fallon looked at her friend, but Lysa continued to stare, like a prepubescent teenage boy.

"Uhm, how much is it for a tarot reading?" Fallon asked.

"It's six quid per person, or ten for two. I assume you both want a reading?" Lady Cherie asked, carefully tucking a portion of curls behind her ear.

"Yeah…" Unfortunately…

Lysa sat, and suddenly regaining her ability to speak she whispered in Fallon's ear, "You go first."

Lady Cherie dropped the deck of cards on the table and spread them in a line. She opened both of her hands, palm up and looked into Fallon's eyes. "Give me your hands," she said.

Fallon placed both hands in the psychic's. The girl closed her eyes and Fallon watched them moving beneath her lids. It was preposterous, and she would need to have a serious word with Lysa after it was all over. A complete waste of mone—

"Fallon Ròs, you have a sacred heart, one which you should follow," the girl said.

"How the hell did you know my name?" Fallon asked. Sweat pooled in the palms of her hands, sliding them until she was grasping Lady Cherie's wrists.

"It's so clear. Your…" Cherie's eyes opened suddenly. Clouds of black smoke filled them. Fallon's chest constricted, her heart stopped beating altogether. The vapor appeared to be inside her too, wrapping its slender body around every organ.

Lady Cherie tried to break their hold, but Fallon could not let go. She feared what would happen if she did. A light breeze blew through the trailer, moving Fallon's dark hair, and the girl's gaze locked on her neck, where her birthmark was.

"You're marked," she said. "You've met your forever."

This time a pain seared through Fallon's muscles. The veins in her arms hardened and were mutating black. She wanted to scream, do anything, but all she could do was zone in on the foreign body within her.

"They're coming for you," Cherie whispered.

The pain stopped, the smoke subsided and Fallon's heart started to beat again. She threw herself from the chair and ran out of the trailer. Her body ached but she could not be in that place…not for another second.

What's happening to me?

A pair of cold hands settled on her skin like ice, and grabbed her arms. Before she could take a full breath she was shrouded in darkness. A sweet, musky scent coiled around her senses like a snake and the hold on her body was strong. She wasn't scared, even though she knew she should be. Instead she found herself fascinated; lusting after whoever or whatever had her.

"Be quiet, Fallon," The raspy, deep voice spoke to her from within her mind. "Be calm, be still."

She spread her fingers against the hard surface she was pressed upon and found the contours of a muscular stomach beneath cloth. But how could a body be as hard as stone? It wasn't possible, yet she continued to feel a person under her touch.

"As flattered as I am, I cannot keep you concealed if you continue to feel me up like this."

The words sent a jolt of heat instantly between her thighs, and although she wanted to query the stranger on who she needed to be concealed from, Fallon could think of nothing other than being wrapped in his arms, kissing the mouth in which that voice came from.

Could it be…him?

"Hold your breath," he said.

She did as she was told, just as she felt the wind whip against her back, throwing her hair wildly across her face. Were they moving? How could it be possible to move with such speed?

No…these are things of fairy tales, not reality.

"I assure you, there are a lot of things about this world that you don't know, my love." This time the voice had spoken out loud and Fallon realised she was no longer being held. She looked up; he towered nearly a foot above her head, and his silver eyes locked with her blue. He smiled from the corner of his mouth. "How do you feel?"

"I…" Fallon took hold of his arms, grasping them tightly. "You…what are you?"

"I'm just like you; marked," he said. He stepped closer and cupped his hand around Fallon's cheek. She leaned into his touch, goose flesh flushing her entire body. "Tell me what your heart is telling you."

She hadn't noticed it like before, the lack of control over herself, but her heart was beating to the same song as his words. It would do nothing without his consent. Lady Cherie's words sounded through her mind.

Fallon Ròs, you have a sacred heart, one which you should follow.

"It belongs to you."

His hand slipped to her neck, and his fingertips pressed against the pulsing vein. Fallon's hand fell from his arm as he wrapped it around her waist. He pulled her up, flat against his chest, effortlessly. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was electric, and she needed him; it was an insatiable need. One she couldn't explain, nor wanted to. She pressed her tongue into his mouth and ran the tip across his teeth. An audible click sounded in her ears. She tasted salt and iron at the back of her tongue, realising only then that she was bleeding. She broke the kiss and saw a pair of very long, very sharp incisors between his lips.

"You're…you're a…"

"I'm your forever."

He pressed her head to the side and for a split second Fallon was frozen with a fear she had never felt before. But the sensation was soon gone. His teeth pierced her flesh. Blood trickled down her chest, travelling between her breasts. He spread it across, taking a hardened nipple through her dress, between his fingers. His bite deepened and she groaned, leaning further into him.

"My god," he said, lifting his head. "I've waited a long time for you."

"I…don't even know your name," Fallon said, feeling weak. Blood continued to seep from the wound and she wasn't sure how much longer she had to live.

"My name is Valerian," he said. "Brace yourself. You're about to feel the worst pain of your life."

"Wha—"

And then it happened…

The air was pushed out of her lungs, the empty bags squeezing and sucking in. The smoke returned, travelling through her veins towards her heart. It spoke to her, made itself apparent to her.

"Don’t fight it…that's right. Accept the veil. It will all be over soon."

She let go. Her body was upright, and yet she was not holding herself up. The veil was pumping through her like a new life source, changing everything inside her once human body. It coiled around her heart, constricting tighter and tighter as each tail of the veil met with another. Every muscle in her body tightened and cramped but she had no voice to scream.

Her heart beat one last time. She breathed her last human breath, and woke anew.

TO BE CONTINUED...
©Suzanne Law