Hounds in the Night

So many nights the nightmares slide so easily along her skin. Tonight was no different and she was left shivering in the wake of her memories.

"Mom? Dad?"

At fourteen it was silly of her to enter her house when the front door had so obviously been forced open. But she pressed onward. Her house stank of a smell she could now recognize as blood and sweat and death.

Putrid, disgusting, embarrassing death.

Some nights she could still taste the sour smell at the back of her throat. Still feel the vomit as it burned an acidic path out of her mouth.

She heard shouts. Cries of a survivor.

She believed herself safe from the same fate as her parents. Now in hindsight she knew that she should have known better. Her parent's bodies were still leaking warmth into their ruined beige carpet. Blood splattered the walls and she could feel the power that was them, their life force, leaking away into the night.

Soon, she knew, there would be nothing left but the hollow shells. Just the bodies with unstaring eyes.

She tried to cup her hands over the wounds, force back the blood and the energy. Tried to make the heart beat again. But even then she knew that it was a kind of power that she didn't contain. One that she knew she would never be able to reach.

Bringing the dead back to life before they passed on was a magic only those who had ascended could control.

She felt her power fizzle in her heads. Felt the hot tears as if they still ran salty and warm down her cheeks.

Felt the shift in the air as he stepped forward offering hope and comfort.

But she was just a child and she was stupid enough to believe herself safe so she took the pro-offered hand, let him pull her to his side.

Power, dark and mysterious, trailed along her skin and she shivered as he led her out of the house. The sudden knowledge of what he was sent her heart racing into her throat. And she opened her mouth to question it, to question him.

What came out instead was a loud, echoing scream. It rippled down the alley they were in and over the skin of anyone within a mile. There was power behind it.

His hand moved faster than her eyes could follow and when she awoke she was in a small cell.

Despair so thick she choked on it she watched as a figure shifted in the darkness, bringing her water.

She could tell he was different from the other one. There was more power rippling along his skin than she had felt in the other all-together.

She leaned as far back as she could in the cell as he pushed his hand through the bars, setting the pitcher of water down in front of her.

She stared at him openly as he peered down at her.

When it looked as if he had grown bored with her and would leave her alone she found herself speaking to him.

"How?" she asked, voice rough as sandpaper. She took a cautious sip of the water, lubricating her throat before trying again, "How are you more powerful? He's older."

She'd never thought that simple question could save her life.

"I am William," he avoided her question easily, "We shall be friends, you and I."

She made a noise in the back of her throat as she watched his swaying hips fade in the darkness.

When she awoke it was to Riley leaning delicately over her. Startled Raine rolled out of bed with a shriek. There was thumping on the stairs and her room was filled with bright eyed boys staring at her.

"Eck...morning people. Where'd Riley go?"

"Riley isn't awake," an un-amused Patrick said from the doorway.

"Well I didn't imagine her," Raine snapped back, "Riley!"

"Whatttt?" Riley yawned out.

"Oh don't play sleepy with me," Raine said, "Next time you decide to astral into my room I swear by all the jade in Egypt I shall trap you out-of-body."

"You.Are.No.Fun."

"Oh, I'm tons of fun...just not before ten am."

"Meanie head."

"What's with the noise?" River asked, "Some people like to sleep until one."

"Riley astraled into my room and scared the shit out of me."

River snickered, "I told you not to teach her magic."

"Didn't hear you complaining when I taught her to set fires."

"That was different," River explained, "It was destructive. And fun to watch all the vampires she torched running around that court yard screaming."

She flailed her hands for emphasis, turning in a circle.

"Better than that time you fried those ghouls in that cemetery in Arizona."

"Yeah, yeah; oh Patron Saint of Concrete and Misdirections."

"So says the Patron Saint of Mis-spoken Spells."

"I'd like to see you pronounce ancient Sumarian."

Sticking her tongue out at her friend she set the end of her hair on fire. River batted at the flames with quick hands.

"You are mean," she agreed with Riley before flouncing off back to bed.