The Dreamtrap - 10. Chapter 10

- X -

The first attack got Julian completely by surprise; however, he immediately knew whom he was facing. A goddamn puppeteer, he thought furiously, trying to fight off the unexpected intrusion, his will bucking wildly, trying to kick the hateful attacker away. Then there was a second attack – a hell of a lot more brutal than the first one. Julian desperately tried holding onto the last shreds of his disappearing free will, understanding perfectly that if he kept resisting, there would be yet another attack, and after that one, he’d be nothing but a puppet for God knows how long.

Therefore, he stopped resisting, last shreds of his will successfully sliding away from the woman’s grasp (he immediately knew that the woman was the puppeteer; the man was just standing there, his expression tight and scared), and he let his arms drop onto his sides, turning his mind blank and gaze empty. He was perfectly aware of the fact that if the woman felt even a slightest stirring of his inner core, she would hit him yet again, and he would be no match for her, especially not right now, when he almost succumbed to her already.

He knew how to keep his mind blank – he learned it a long time ago. He invited them into the house, keeping up his mask of emptiness, careful not to think or feel anything, knowing that he needed time to restore everything he almost lost several minutes ago.

The man (Henry) seemed to be very cautious of him even though Julian knew that he looked as if he were completely under puppeteer’s control. They came for the painting, but Julian would be damned if he let them have it; not now, not after he finally figured out Raven’s location. The woman (Emma), however, was so overconfident that it made her look and sound plain arrogant. Julian had to admit though – she was quite good at what she did; if she hit him just a tad stronger for the second time, he wouldn’t have to fake this emptiness right now – it would be real. He hated it.

He was relieved when she said that she was going to have her fun with him, since he needed more time – he didn’t want to blow his only chance. He played along, his mind nothing but blank canvas, his movements slow and automatic, his gaze fixed on an invisible target. Restoring his inner self without letting anything to reflect in his mind was much more time consuming than it would be the normal way.

“I said, shut up!” the woman snapped at her companion when he tried to tell her to leave Julian alone, get the painting, and to get the hell out of the house.

She got up and slowly walked closer to the motionless blond.

“Hmm,” she said, her eyes running all over his rigid body. “Let’s not rush this... Take off your shirt, pet.”

“Yes,” Julian said in lifeless voice, and started slowly undoing all those buttons, buying more time. He pulled off the shirt after several minutes and let it drop on the floor.

“Mmm,” the puppeteer said with appreciation and ran her fingers down his chest. “Very nice... Your mate is a lucky man,” she said almost intimately, and then shrugged. “Was, whatever...”

Julian decided not to wait much longer after she said that.

“...sit in the chair, pet,” he heard her saying after a minute or so.

“Yes,” he said and walked towards the chair, very carefully checking the strength of his inner strings, making sure nothing splashed onto blank canvas of his mind.

The puppeteer (Emma) said something Julian didn’t really pay attention to, and a minute later, he felt her fingers run through his hair. Then she jerked his head upwards, forcing him to look up.

“We are going to have fun, aren’t we, Julian?” she asked in a low voice, and he looked at her blankly for several seconds, reaching for his spell, thankful for her arrogance, which made her careless.

He grabbed hold of the spell and let his mouth stretch in a small smile.

“Yes,” he said, and kicked the mental blank canvas aside.

She understood a second too late, trying to regain control, but Julian almost laughed at that and hit her with the spell, making her freeze immediately. He threw her companion into the wall, pinning him there without any hope of getting away. It was clear that Henry had no abilities whatsoever, which made this easier. Julian looked at the hyperventilating man.

“Yes,” he said again with a small, dark smile. “We are going to have fun.”

He picked up his shirt and put it on. He started buttoning it up and looked at the puppeteer once again, wondering whether he should kick the level of pain up a notch or two. He would definitely enjoy it, but he decided against that, thinking that at first, he needed to figure out what someone like a puppeteer would need Raven for – it was clear that she was the one who set up the trap.

“Believe me,” he said after he fixed the last button on his shirt. “You are not the first one who tried breaking me...”

Emma stared at him without blinking (he made sure she wouldn’t be able to do even that), a small tear snaking its way down her cheek.

“And you are not the first one who failed,” Julian nodded. He studied her frozen expression for several more seconds, and then turned his attention to Henry. “Now,” he said almost casually. “I would like some answers, and you are going to give them to me...”

“Don’t...” Henry wheezed, trying to get his breathing under control, and succeeding at that very slowly. “Don’t kill her...” he managed.

“This is not going to kill her,” Julian glanced at silent Emma. “Not at this level,” he added thoughtfully. “Right now, this is nothing but a payback.”

He shifted his gaze to Henry again.

“I hate it when someone is fucking with my head,” he said in a low voice. “In every possible meaning of the word...” He picked up the gun that dropped on the floor a few minutes earlier and unloaded it almost absent-mindedly, while silently watching the man and thinking that as soon as he got all useful information out of him, he would probably kill him. It was obvious that he was nothing but puppeteer’s sidekick without any abilities or talents, which made him useless.

He put a useless by now gun on the nearby shelf and lit a cigarette, satisfied with the fact that his hands didn’t shake.

“So,” he said finally. “Back to the answers. What do you know about the painting and why did you...” he glanced at Emma. “She...” he corrected himself. “...lure Raven into that trap?”

“I...” Henry coughed, desperately wishing for some water right now. However, he knew that water was out of the question. “I don’t know anything about the trap...” That was true – he had no idea what the damn ghost did. “I...” He coughed again, making the blond roll his eyes with annoyance. “I painted it...” he whispered, and suddenly, Julian’s bored expression was gone from his face in a flash.

Salamander crossed the room in a few quick steps and stopped right in front of the pinned to the wall man, his eyes dark and narrow.

“Do not lie to me,” he said dangerously.

“I am not...” Henry started saying when the blond raised his hand with a burning cigarette between its fingers, and brought it very close to Henry’s face, the red glowing tip dancing in front of the terrified man’s eye.

“Let’s try it again,” Julian said in the dark, purring manner. “Tell me the truth or you will experience something rather unpleasant...” The cigarette moved even closer to Henry’s eye; he could feel the heat emerging from the glowing tip. He started sobbing, he couldn’t help it.

“I am not lying...” he managed, hating his cowardly self. “I painted the goddamn thing...! She made me; she never gave me any choice...! I swear, I am not lying...!”

Julian’s eyes darted towards very pale by now Emma, and Henry shook his head as vigorously as he could, ignoring the fact that it made him smack himself on the wall yet again.

“Not Emma...!” he gasped for air, his gaze fixed on that cigarette, which was still dancing in front of his eye, heat and smoke making his tears even stronger. “Emma didn’t do anything with the painting... We were supposed to get it and read the incantation...”

Julian blinked at the last statement and slowly lowered his hand, knowing that the sobbing man wasn’t lying to him. He painted the bloody thing? This changed everything – Julian needed this pathetic, sobbing being that was pinned to his wall. He was the creator; Julian could not afford disposing of him right now.

“How were you able to paint a mirror labyrinth?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “You do not strike me as a type who would be able to get out of one of those... Unless, it was pure luck,” he shrugged mostly to himself.

The pathetic being frowned at that, clearly confused.

“M-mirror labyrinth...?” he repeated and coughed again, longer and more torturous this time.

Julian rolled his eyes, whirled around, and stormed into the kitchen, completely ignoring the grey-faced Emma. He returned a minute later with a glass of water in his hand.

“Drink it,” he said shortly and shoved the glass in front of Henry’s face. He waited somewhat patiently until the pathetic being drained the glass, his entire body shaking, and then the blond put the empty glass on the shelf next to the helpless man. “Now,” Julian said as shortly as before. “Labyrinth.”

“I don’t know what you talking about,” Henry whispered, clearly afraid that Julian would hurt him somehow.

He was partially right – Julian’s desire to do so was quite strong by now. He restrained himself, however.

“You said that you painted it,” he said evenly, and now, there was a flash of understanding in the man’s eyes.

“You mean the corridor?” he asked with hope, and the blond frowned. “She never told me what it was called,” Henry said quickly. “Not Emma...!” he said again, when Julian threw yet another glance at the incapacitated puppeteer.

“Who in the bloody hell are you talking about then?” the blond almost exploded.

“I don’t know her name...” Henry stuttered. “S-she is the one who did all those things that happened to your mate... She is the one who needs the painting and the incantation... She is...”

“Who is she?” Julian interrupted him in a quieter manner.

“The mirror ghost...” Henry said in a small, miserable voice, as if positive that the blond would not believe his single word.

Mirror ghost? Julian frowned at those words.

“All right,” he said after a minute or two. “Start from the beginning.”

****

A half an hour later (as long as it took stuttering Henry to finally finish his story), Julian thoughtfully bit his lower lip for a minute or two, digesting the information. The fact that Raven was the one, who happened to purchase the goddamn painting, was clearly an accident; however, the ghost seemed to be delighted when she heard the news... She seemed to know Julian as well – he was sure that he translated the words ‘psychotic blond’ correctly. He frowned for another minute, and then suddenly, it hit him full force and speed.

“Goddammit...” he muttered, amazed that up until now, he didn’t even think of this; he never even considered the possibility.

Several months ago, back in April, when he almost lost Raven... Julian squeezed his eyes shut, kicking himself for being so blind. Right before the spell hit Specter, the man broke the mirror – the artifact that caused Raven’s kidnapping, since he ended up being accidentally attuned to it. Magda was attuned to the same artifact as well, Julian thought numbly, which meant that when Specter broke the mirror, the artifact automatically drew Magda’s essence along with it, to wherever it was. When Julian unleashed all those brutal streams on her, the mirror got her out of this plane, leaving her physical body behind – blood magic is a serious thing.

Magda never really died? Bloody hell... He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. All right, he thought somewhat calmly. At least now, he knows who is behind all of this, and to be honest, it made perfect sense.

“Tell me something else,” he looked at Henry intently. “And speak the truth,” he added with a slight nod. “Does she...” he glanced at Emma’s frozen figure. “...have anything to do with the entire painting ordeal besides writing down the incantation?” he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Anything at all?”

Henry immediately shook his head as vigorously as before.

“No,” he said heatedly, and Julian knew that he wasn’t lying. “Nothing! I swear,” Henry nodded several times, having no clue that he just signed Emma’s death warrant. “I am the one who painted it, okay? Emma had nothing to do with it...! The ghost got hold of her only because...” he frowned slightly. “I guess because she was with me...” he said slowly, as if not believing that this time, he was the important one. “Also because of her ability, I suppose...” he added uncertainly. “I am not lying...!” Now he looked desperate.

“I believe you,” Julian gave him a small smile, making the man’s shoulders to relax just a little. “She has nothing to do with the big picture,” the blond nodded and glanced behind his shoulder at the immobilized woman.

He looked at her intently for a few long seconds, and suddenly, a pulsating red flash of bright light materialized out of thin air and rushed towards her throat. It wrapped itself around the slender neck, twisting in a tight knot, and the minute it did that, there was an audible ‘snap!’ and then Emma’s body went limp, her head twisted at the unnatural angle.

Henry made a strange gurgling sound, staring at his dead companion without blinking for a minute or two, as if firmly believing that he was having a nightmare.

“Why...?” he whispered finally, unable to tear his gaze away from the dead body, which fell onto the floor with a heavy ‘thud!’ sound, since Julian released his signature-spell as soon as the puppeteer was no longer alive.

“Because in spite of what I thought,” Julian said in almost pleasant tone of voice. “She turned out to be the useless one...” He looked at Henry without a shadow of a smile. “I am not disposing of you anytime soon... You are the creator,” he nodded slightly. “Thank your lucky star, I suppose.”

Henry looked anything but thankful right then. Julian thought of something for another minute, and then he nodded again, slower this time.

“I am going to release you,” he said without looking away from the frozen man, who couldn’t look away from Emma’s body, it seemed. “Please,” he said in a low voice, and Henry blinked and finally looked at him. “Do not even think of trying anything that strikes you as heroic,” Julian continued in the same low voice. “I am not going to kill you...” The blond slightly shrugged. “Not yet, anyway... But I will hurt you,” he nodded yet again. “Are we clear?”

Henry was silent for a minute.

“Yes,” he whispered finally, swallowing his tears.

Julian nodded, as if he didn’t expect anything else from the artist, and then he released his magic hold on him. Henry gasped, when all of a sudden, his body was free, and he managed to regain his balance right before losing it completely and falling facedown onto the floor.

“Let’s go,” Julian said shortly, and Henry looked up.

“Where...?” he muttered, trying his best not to look at the body of the woman he learnt to hate and love within last several months.

“Which emotion was stronger?” someone whispered in his head. “Hate or love?”

He gritted his teeth without looking away from Salamander.

“To your apartment,” Julian answered seriously. “I am going to finish this thing once and for all tonight!”

****

They drove to Henry’s apartment in silence, Julian’s mind racing, Henry staring out of the window blindly. Fifteen minutes later, Julian finally parked the car in front of the dark apartment building – it seemed that streetlights around here stopped working eons ago.

“Lead the way,” Julian said with quiet tightness.

Henry started walking towards the stairs, mute and rigid. They walked up to the third floor of the building, and Henry slowly pulled the key out of his pocket. Julian followed him inside after the artist pushed the door open, and when Henry switched on the lights, Julian slightly frowned when he saw a big mirror in the hallway covered by a flower-print cloth. Henry noticed his look, and shrugged.

“I really didn’t want to deal with her in every goddamn room,” he said indifferently. “The only place we would usually meet her, would be the bathroom.”

“I would imagine that being the last place you would want someone to visit you,” Julian muttered, following the artist deeper into the apartment.

“Not the main bathroom,” Henry said as indifferently as before. “The second one; we don’t use that one anymore.”

“I see,” the blond said, glancing around with mild curiosity.

The apartment was fairly big, but it looked shabby; every single piece of furniture was old, and nothing matched – it seemed as if everything was purchased individually without even a slightest regard to the style. Henry stopped in front of the closed door and put his hand on the doorknob. Julian immediately grabbed his wrist, stopping him from doing so. Henry gave him a puzzled, frowning look.

“Do not tip her off,” Salamander said quietly, and the artist slowly nodded.

Julian released the man’s wrist and took a step back, hiding in the shadows. Henry took a deep breath and opened the door. He turned on the lights and was startled when he heard a sharp and annoyed:

“Well, finally!”

He whirled around and stared into the mirror. It appeared that the ghost was waiting for him for a while now, and she was anxious, to say the least.

“What took you so bloody long?” she demanded, and Henry slightly frowned, looking for an answer.

Suddenly, the ghost let out short laughter.

“Never mind,” she said in a low voice. “Your girlfriend decided to bone that psychotic blond, didn’t she?”

Henry’s expression tightened, and she laughed again.

“Is she boning him still?” Now she looked more relaxed and quite entertained. “That’s why she’s not here? I can see why though,” she shrugged and leaned onto something Henry failed to see yet again. It seemed like there was an entirely different world behind the smooth surface of the mirror; a world he could not see. The only part he was able to observe was this damn ghost.

“He is fucked-up,” the ghost continued meanwhile, her arms folded in her chest. “But he is extremely good-looking... Hell, I would bone him myself if I had a chance!”

“Please stop talking,” Henry muttered, and she laughed again – this time, longer.

“All right, all right,” she said after she finally calmed down somewhat. “I am not going to poke at your wounds... Back to business,” she nodded energetically. “You got the painting?”

“Yes,” Henry said tightly.

The ghost frowned with puzzlement, her eyes quickly scanning Henry’s empty hands.

“Where is it?” she asked. “Don’t tell me that you left it in his house!” Her eyes narrowed darkly. “I am not waiting until your girlfriend is finally finished fucking his brains out...! You are going to...”

“Hello, Magda,” Julian said, suddenly stepping into the bathroom, and the ghost choked on her words and stared at him with disbelief and badly hidden fear. The blond smiled without baring his teeth. “Long time no see,” he nodded and smiled wider when the ghost lunged at his reflection.

The minute she touched its arm, she screamed out in pain and jerked backwards.

“Come on,” Julian hemmed. “Give me some credit...! I am not that clueless...”

She stared at him with hatred, saying nothing. Julian slightly nodded, as if he didn’t expect anything else.

“Goodbye, Magda,” he said simply, and suddenly, his reflection started living the life of its own.

Julian in the mirror turned towards the seething ghost even though real Julian didn’t move a muscle, and then the mirrored twin raised both of his arms, clearly intending to disintegrate the woman on the spot. The ghost turned her head towards Julian on the other side of the mirror, away from his reflected self.

“If you kill me,” she said with strange calmness. “You will kill your mate as well, you realize that, right?”

Salamander hemmed and slowly shook his head.

“No,” he said in a low voice. “The minute I kill you, the labyrinth will be gone, and Raven will be back to normal... We both know it,” he added with a slight nod, and his reflection performed some complicated-looking pass with his hands.

“Goddamn you...!” the ghost said with feeling.

It seemed like she was about to say something else, but then she threw a very quick glance at Salamander’s reflected twin, cursed through her clenched teeth, realizing that she was almost out of time, and threw both of her arms up, spitting out some bizarre-sounding word. The minute she finished the word, the mirror exploded into a whirlwind of sharp, broken glass.

“Fuck!!” the blond screamed with frustration and fury, throwing his hands in front of him and managing to pull up a barrier right before the glass unleashed itself onto him and the stunned, wide-eyed Henry. “Fuck!” he repeated when all those shards slammed against the barrier and splattered all over the bathroom, covering the floor and the counter with sharp silver.

Suddenly, there was another explosive, glassy sound coming from somewhere in the apartment, followed by two more sparkly ‘booms’. Julian lowered his hands, digging his fingernails into his palms in helpless fury. He lost her, he thought, gritting his teeth. He lost her, and he lost his only chance to get Raven back without any risk. There were several more explosions in the apartment, and the last one was really close to the bathroom. Julian looked at Henry.

“How many goddamn mirrors do you have?” he demanded through his clenched teeth, restraining himself from taking his fury out on the artist. He needs him, he reminded himself sternly. He needs him; he is the creator, Julian needs him...

“A few,” Henry said quickly, his expression still stunned. Another close-sounding explosion immediately splashed fear into his eyes.

“Let’s go,” the blond said sharply, and impatiently rolled his eyes when the artist just stood there, fear rooting him to the floor.

Julian grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the bathroom, anxious to get back home so he could study that goddamn painting and try to figure out a way to get Raven back. The minute they left the bathroom, there was another explosion, and this one was a hell of a lot louder and more violent than the rest of them. Julian instinctively jerked aside, pulling Henry along, and that seemed to be a correct move because just as he did so, the farther wall of the bathroom blew into pieces, and then a heavy, wooden door zoomed through the air, smashing against the hallway wall. The door flew through the exact same spot where the blond and shaking by now Henry stood several seconds ago.

“What the hell was that?” Salamander demanded sharply and shook Henry unceremoniously when the man stood frozen in his spot.

Henry blinked several times.

“The wardrobe...” he muttered. “Emma has...” he stuttered. “...had...” he corrected himself. “She had this huge-ass mirror built into the door of her wardrobe... I guess when the mirror exploded, it took the wardrobe along...”

Julian suppressed a very strong, dark desire, and yanked the artist’s collar once again, pulling him towards the front door of the apartment. He kept up the barrier just in case, which was also a good idea – the minute they got close to the flower-print covered mirror, the cloth flew aside, and another furious wave of broken glass splashed onto them with maddening force, bouncing off the barrier with complaining chiming.

Julian swore loudly and clearly. He kept swearing all the way to the car. Once they got there, he dug in the glove compartment, fished out a pack of cigarettes, and stuck one into his mouth, thus making the cursing stop. Then he threw the car into gear and took off with immediate speed and an angry shriek of the tires.