The Dreamtrap - 11. Chapter 11

- XI -

He shoved non-resisting Henry into the front door of the house when they finally got there, and pushed him into the general direction of the study.

“Third door on your right,” he said shortly and headed towards the stairs. “Don’t even think of running out of the house!”

Henry gave him a dull, indifferent look and slowly walked towards the study. He looked like someone who didn’t care about anything anymore. Julian threw a quick glance at him, turned around, and quickly walked upstairs, heading to the bedroom. He opened the door and switched on the lights. Raven was asleep, his expression as serene and undisturbed as a week ago, his breathing even.

“Dammit,” Julian sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through the dark, longish hair of the unconscious brunet. “I blew it, I am sorry...”

Soft, almost inaudible breathing was the only answer he received.

“I’ll figure out how to get you out of there,” Julian said quietly. “Try to stay away from that bitch of your old friend, will you? She can’t do anything to you, not while you are in charge of yourself. She is nothing but a spirit right now; therefore, she can’t do anything to you... However, you are on her playground, which means she is the one setting the rules...” He cut himself short and stood up. “I’ll get you out of there,” he said quietly and left the room.

When he walked into the study, the lights were on, and Henry was standing in front of the painting on the wall, his hands in his pockets, his forehead one confused frown. He threw a quick glance at Julian when the blond walked into the study. Now the artist didn’t seem as indifferent as he did ten minutes ago. Now he looked puzzled and somewhat angry.

“What did you do to it?” he demanded with the same deep frown, and Julian blinked at that.

“What?” he asked, walking closer.

“The painting,” Henry looked at the picture in front of him. “What did you do to it? I didn’t paint this... I mean,” he impatiently grimaced at Julian’s expression. “This is not how I painted this!”

“What are you talking about?” the blond frowned and stepped closer. “The only thing I did was change the frame.”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “Look at this!” he pointed at the lower right corner. “This is wrong... So is this...” His finger quickly traveled upwards. “And don’t get me started on Michelle!”

“Michelle...?” Julian repeated and finally looked at the painting.

“The woman,” Henry said tightly. “I painted someone from my past; her name was Michelle... Except now,” he looked at Julian. “She doesn’t look anything like Michelle!”

Julian stared at the painting with disbelief. Ever since Raven hung it on the wall, the blond didn’t really look at it. Even when he was changing the frame – he didn’t really look at it; he was too preoccupied talking to his inner self, and he didn’t even care about the painting back then. However, now he could see the changes Henry mentioned. The mirror in the bottom right corner seemed to be distorted somehow, as if it suddenly turned into one of those carnival fun-house mirrors. The blue reflection of the exit in one of the mirrors on top had disappeared; now there was something red splashing in that mirror instead.

Julian shifted his gaze towards the woman and cursed silently. Her posture was entirely different now. When Raven got the painting, she was standing with her back towards the viewer, hugging herself tightly with both arms, not a single glimpse of her face in either mirror that surrounded her. Now, however, one of her arms was resting on her shoulder in smooth, undisturbed line, while the other one was sinking its fingers into her dark, smooth hair. Her face wasn’t hidden at all right now; instead, it was turned forward, her eyes fixed on something only she could see, her mouth stretched in a small, tight smile.

“That’s,” Henry pointed at the woman again. “Not Michelle,” he nodded energetically. “Even her hair is different! Michelle’s hair was wavy and much longer than...”

“It’s not Michelle,” Julian interrupted him in a quiet, tight voice. “It’s Magda. Goddammit...”

Henry blinked and looked at the woman intently.

“Huh,” he said finally. “So that’s what she really looks like... She never wore this appearance before... Huh,” he said again.

Julian quickly took the heavy frame off the wall and put it on the floor, flipping the painting facedown. He undid the latches on the back, pulled the canvas out of the frame, rolled it into a loose tube, and straightened up.

“Follow,” was all he said to Henry before leaving the study.

The artist followed him obediently. They went into the office, and Julian flipped on the lights, which were brighter than the ones in the study, and impatiently swiped everything off the desk, freeing the top of it completely. He unrolled the tube and spread the canvas on the desktop. Then he opened one of the drawers, dug in it for several seconds, and finally straightened up, holding a medium-size magnifying glass.

He turned on the lamp that hovered above the desk, and leaned closer, slightly squinting his left eye while staring at the painting through the magnifying glass.

“What the hell is that...?” he muttered, staring at the strange newborn red reflections in the mirror in the upper corner. “What is it...?”

He straightened up and shoved the glass into Henry’s hand.

“Look,” he demanded. “You are the one who painted the damn thing...”

“I didn’t paint it this way...” Henry started protesting, but Julian interrupted him with another short, impatient:

“Look!”

Henry sighed and leaned closer towards the painting, the magnifying glass pressed against his face. He stared at the strange red dots for several minutes, and then he lowered the glass and looked up.

“I think those are eyes,” he said slowly, and the blond stared at him without blinking. Henry shrugged. “That’s what they look like,” he said and pressed the glass against his face once again, making his right eye appear freakishly huge for a second or two before he turned towards the painting again. “There is something here as well...” he muttered, leaning closer. “Someone, actually,” he said after a minute. “Yeah, definitely someone...” he nodded to himself, and Julian shoved him aside, grabbing the magnifying glass out of his hand.

“Where?” he asked dryly, and Henry silently tapped his finger on the left upper corner.

Julian looked at that spot for a minute or two, then leaned even closer, slightly narrowing his eye, and then he blinked in disbelief.

“You have got to be kidding me...” he muttered slowly.

He stared at that particular reflection for several more minutes, then straightened up, threw the magnifying glass aside, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“If he is visiting him there,” he muttered while punching in the number with slightly trembling fingers. “He will know how to get him out... Unless he is playing along with her... Son of a bitch... I should’ve killed him when I had a... Alessandro!” he barked into the phone. “I need you to book a charter plane for me; I’ll tell the destination to the pilot myself. Also, I need you to get rid of something in the house...”

Henry immediately knew that ‘something’ was Emma’s dead body. He started to shake and turned away from the blond, whose expression was darker than ever.

“...I will be gone for...” Julian paused for a second. “I don’t know for how long,” he said finally. “I need you to stop by the house every morning; to make sure that everything runs smoothly... Yes,” he nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the painting. “I need the plane as soon as possible,” he continued. “I want to leave within the next hour... Yes,” he nodded again. “I will see you then,” he finished evenly and snapped the phone shut.

He took a deep breath and looked at the very tense artist, who stood still, staring at the door, his shoulders slightly shaking.

“You and I are going on a trip,” Julian said shortly, and Henry turned around.

He frowned and his shoulders tensed up even more.

“I am not going anywhere,” he said darkly. “I’ve done enough already... I paid for getting into your house, we are even... I am not going anywhere...!”

“You and I are going on a trip,” Salamander repeated quietly. “You can choose whether you want to travel in fully conscious condition or the opposite, but you are coming with me. It’s not a request,” he nodded slightly, his tone of voice leaving no room for debate.

Henry gritted his teeth with helpless anger and frustration.

“You don’t even need me,” he said tightly. “Bloody hell, you don’t even need me...!”

“I might,” the blond nodded again.

He turned towards the desk, loosely rolled up the canvas, turned off the lamp, and headed towards the door.

“Do not make me to put you on a leash,” he said without looking at Henry, who stood motionless, a stubborn frown on his forehead.

The artist gritted his teeth again and slowly followed Salamander, thinking that he would not want to deal with humiliation of wearing a leash. He knew that Julian meant it; he also knew that right now, he didn’t have a choice but to follow the blond and do whatever he said. He gritted his teeth once more, shoved his hands into his pockets, and slowly walked down the wide hallway, wondering what the damn ghost did a week ago.

****

One week ago

________________

...“There is so much I need to tell him...” Raven thought without opening his eyes, letting his legs slide off blond’s waist. “The painting, the dream, that web page... That damn chiming sound... I will tell him after we wake up...” He lightly kissed Julian’s neck, and the blond tightened the circle of his arms without lifting his head. “I will tell him after we wake up... I also will have to get that frame out of...”

He fell asleep without finishing his thought, enjoying the smooth, quick slide into velvety darkness, Julian’s weight making his body sing, and then suddenly, he had that unpleasant feeling of an abrupt fall. He jerked harshly, cursing silently, knowing that the damn phantom fall just chased away glorious sleep that almost had him in its dark embrace, and that now, he was wide-awake. He wondered what happened to the weight of Julian’s body on top of his, and then figured that the blond rolled off him without Raven even noticing it. He sighed and opened his eyes, a gloomy expression on his face. ‘Gloomy’ transformed into ‘confused,’ and a few seconds later, it became ‘furious.’

“Are you serious?” he growled loudly and glanced around, dark anger and frustration making his hands shake. “God-bloody-dammit!”

He was standing in front of the same abandoned opera house, a lazy breeze chasing several candy wrappers off the rocky steps. Raven turned around. There it was, the same wooden post Desmond and he hid behind the last time. He slowly walked towards it and lowered himself on one knee. He blinked when he saw the hole in one of the old advertisements; it was in the same exact spot where the black arrow was trembling after it missed Raven’s lower side – the place it was clearly aiming for before Specter pushed him onto the ground.

Raven slowly ran his fingers over the old paper, wondering whether he was alone in here or someone was about to start shooting at him again.

“Oh, son of a bitch, not again...!” Someone said in a desperate voice behind him, and Raven didn’t need to turn around to see the owner of the voice.

He squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, and then took a quick breath, opened his eyes, stood up, and slowly turned around.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked tiredly. “It’s eleven in the morning!”

“I went back to sleep,” Desmond answered irritably. “I figured that I might as well go ahead and snooze peacefully for a few hours without worrying that I’d end up in your damn dream again, since it’s eleven in the morning and you already woke up!” He looked at Raven pointedly.

“I went back to sleep,” Raven nodded without elaborating any further.

“Great,” Desmond exhaled with annoyance. “Well, wake up then...! You didn’t take any more Noxum, did you?” he narrowed his eyes.

“No,” Raven sighed. “Don’t yell in my face again,” he said warningly when Desmond started walking towards him. “That startled the hell out of me the last time!”

“It worked,” Desmond nodded shortly. “You are welcome.”

Raven muttered something under his breath and closed his eyes, starting to visualize his sleeping self as he did the last time. A few seconds after he closed his eyes, there was a sudden and loud chiming sound, ripping the silence apart. Raven slightly jerked and his eyes flew open.

“Bloody hell!” he hissed when he lost his concentration.

Desmond looked around with narrowed eyes.

“It’s the same sound,” he said slowly.

“Uh huh,” Raven agreed gloomily, and then there was another chime – this one sounded closer.

“We need to get the hell out of here!” Desmond said sharply. “Wake up...!”

Raven silently agreed with that and squeezed his eyes shut once again, hurriedly visualizing his unconscious for now physical body. He was relieved when he saw it almost immediately, and was about to dive into it, positive that this time, he would wake up, since there were no drugs involved, when there was yet another chime, which made Raven open his eyes with frustrated worry. This time, it felt as if the sound decided to drown both of them in its unusually huge wave, splashing everywhere, making Raven involuntarily gasp for breath. He swayed on his feet, feeling as if the sound wave was about to knock him down, and instinctively grabbed onto Desmond’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

Then the sound was gone, as unexpectedly as it rang for the first time. A sudden silence made Raven’s ears ring, and he carefully opened his eyes. What he saw made his eyelid to start twitching madly. Both of them stood in a fairly wide hallway, and there were mirrors everywhere – on the floor, on the walls, and on the ceiling. Raven slightly shook his head when all those mirrors made him dizzy. Desmond slowly peeled his eyes open (it seemed he squeezed them shut just as Raven did a minute ago) and looked around, clearly confused.

“What the...” he started saying when Raven remembered Julian’s words.

“We have to move!” he interrupted Desmond and started quickly walking forward, ignoring Desmond’s questions.

“Bloody hell!” the green-eyed man said angrily a minute or so later after he caught up with Raven’s quickening pace. “I take it, you know what this place is, right?”

“Right,” Raven muttered without slowing down. “It’s a mirror labyrinth; there is an exit, but it keeps jumping every fifteen minutes... Or was it ten...?” he frowned to himself. “Anyway,” he continued several seconds later. “The first exit is the easiest one, since it’s always straight ahead... After that, it starts jumping, and it never appears in the same place twice...”

“Hurry up then,” Desmond said darkly without asking any questions; he would ask them later, when they were out of this bizarre place.

“I am...” Raven started saying, and suddenly, he came to a dead stop. “Goddammit!” he hissed with frustration and slight panic. “Which way is straight?”

Desmond looked around with a tight frown. The corridor twisted itself in such a way that it was rather impossible to tell which way ‘straight’ was – it seemed that there was every single direction in front of them. The corridor went right, left, around, and even diagonal, but definitely not straight. All those flickering reflections didn’t help a single bit. They stood still for several minutes, time turning into something Raven could literally feel slipping through his fingers. Finally, Desmond muttered:

“This way...” and took the diagonal fork.

“Are you sure?” Raven asked quickly, following him immediately.

“No,” Desmond answered, and Raven gritted his teeth silently.

They walked for several long minutes, and then came to yet another mad intersection. Desmond took the right fork without slowing down, and Raven didn’t ask him anything this time. “Damn,” he thought gloomily while following the ex-assassin, who made his way through countless mirrors with tight ease. “Julian said that it was ‘a little tricky’ for him to find the exit when he knew what he was looking for... This is anything but ‘a little tricky’...” He glanced around. “Wonder if some labyrinths are more complicated than others...”

“There,” Desmond said suddenly, interrupting Raven’s thoughts, and the smaller man blinked.

Right there, in front of them was a portal pulsating with bright-blue light, it was maybe a hundred feet away. Desmond walked faster, and Raven immediately picked up the pace as well, catching up with him easily. Suddenly, when they were almost half-way through, the portal disappeared for a fraction of a second, and appeared once more, just so it could repeat the same action several seconds later.

“What...” Desmond frowned, and Raven immediately remembered what Julian said.

“...Right before it jumps, the exit blinks...”

“Run,” he said in a low, tight voice. “It’s about to jump... Run...!”

They started running, the sound of their desperate footsteps hissing at them with sickening, empty echoes, snaking throughout the labyrinth, the portal blinking more rapidly than it did less than a minute ago. They ran faster, and Raven thought that they were going to make it, when the portal blinked one last time, and disappeared for good. Desmond didn’t have any time to slow down, and he ended up running into the cold surface of the mirror full speed, slamming into the hard glass with an audible dull sound. Raven smacked into his back, trying to keep the balance, but it didn’t work, and both of them tumbled down onto the mirrored floor, their countless reflections imitating their fall simultaneously.

“Fuck...!” Desmond screamed with wild, desperate frustration, and the minute he did that, it sounded like the entire labyrinth exploded with maddening echo.

Raven groaned and pressed his hands against his ears, only half-noting that Desmond immediately did the same, a painful grimace distorting his face. The echo pierced through Raven’s hands, burrowing the cackling sounds deep into his head, threatening to twist his skull inside out. Finally, the sounds died off, and both men slowly lowered their hands.

“Fuck...” Desmond repeated much softer.

“I guess it’s a good idea to keep our voices down in this place,” Raven muttered dully.

“Fuck...” Desmond said again, staring into the mirror where the portal was shimmering several minutes ago, and Raven agreed with him with a slow, desperate nod.