The Price I Paid

4: Requiem Amidst a Dream

*Photo is Zachariah*

"Clarissa Marie Sparx," A voice echoed through the dark of the evening wood. The strong scent of pine and fresh blood created the musk of the forest. My thoughts were clear, a rare occurence that had me fearing the pain to come. Either way, I didn't remember getting here. Which meant I had to find my way out.

... But at least I wasn't with wolf boy and his pale-faced friend...

That voice called my name over and over again, the voice having a dark edge that incessantly beckoned me towards it and rang in my ears. I resisted as much as possible, wandering aimlessly and without direction. I was lost, so there really wasn't much of a disadvantage in getting even more lost to find an exit.

"I am hurt, sweet Clarissa," that voice spoke again, his montra having finally changed, "You don't want to talk to me?"

I scoffed, and chose to ignore it-- but a pyre of flames shot up mere feet in front of me. I jumped back in fright, watching the flurry of aggressive colour surround me. I was officially trapped, and the voice was chuckling now. The flames rose, towering above me and bending inwards to form a dome over my head, yet no heat came to me.

The sound of a zipper suddenly drew my attention, and my gaze snapped to the random gash of utter blackness in the middle of the fiery wall. A man then emerged, his brown eyes looking me over as he emerged. He wore dark-wash jeans and a leather jacket over his dark grey v-neck, and ran his hands through his dark brown hair once he'd balanced himself. A sliver of metal glinted in my peripheral vision, and I looked to see dog tags around his neck. My eyes squinted to focus on the name;

"Duncan?"

He chuckled, the disembodied voice officially having found a host. The black hole closed itself behind him, and he pulled a cigarette from his jacket. A lighter followed, and he took a long drag post-light before speaking once more.

"Not quite," he murmured, and his once silky brown eyes changed. A dirtied white consumed his eyeballs, creating nothing but white orbs that appeared as if they'd been rolling about in the dirt. For whatever reason, I gasped and stepped back.

"The hell?" I thought aloud, to which his corrupt chuckle resounded again.

"Oh no, sweet Clarissa. I am past hell," Duncan replied.

"Excuse me?"

Duncan's eyes flashed back to their normal brown-- but in turn, he flashed up towards me. What was once several feet between us became mere centimeters, and Duncan created a firm grip on my chin to bring my eyes to his.

"Do not play coy with me, sweet Clarissa. Your gift already handed you the information, so I won't bother with explanations." Duncan took another drag, and blew the smoke into my face. I tried to pull away, coughing insanely to rid the poison from my system-- but Duncan was insistent on keeping me where I was.

However, I was just as insistent on getting away.

I brought my knee up to connect with his groin, but he grabbed it before I made contact. In a flash and a flurry of my hair, the fire was gone and he had me pressed against a tree. He held my wrists in his hand, using the other to wrap my legs around his waist.

"You are in my world, my sweet. I own this dream," Duncan ensured. I only looked away from him, not wanting his burning cigarette any closer to my lips "Have you not noticed that your gift is not sending you into a frenzy of suffering?"

"Your world or not, you could at least show some courtesy," I hissed, managing a large wad of spit that sent his cigarette to drown in sizzles. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he let the dead barrel of cancer fall to the forest floor. Duncan shook his head, his lips then twisting into a smile.

"I am not the kind to be courteous, sweet Clarissa," Duncan warned, then releasing me. I made sure to create distance, watching him carefully. If he tried anything else, I'd be ready to strike, "But, on to the business portion."

"What are--" Duncan waved his hand dismissively, which-- in turn-- managed to take any and all oxygen from my lungs. I gasped in shock, panting to try and bring my breath back. All the while, he spoke as if nothing was wrong.

"I need you, sweet Clarissa. And you are no good dead," he began, and the oxygen slammed back into me when his gaze met mine. I felt relieved and horribly offended, but I hadn't quite registered what he'd said until moments later-- which brought the raging disbelief.

"I'm here, so I'm obviously not dead," I retorted, feeling pretty smug of my observation. Duncan shook his head.

"Did I not mention this is my world? You are dead, sweet Clarissa, and that simply will not suffice," Duncan stated, and flashed right in front of me. He slapped my hands away, taking hold of my chin once more. His lips hovered just over mine, and he looked down at me like a predator would its prey. It was unsettling, but he made it evident I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Besides, didn't he just say he couldn't have me dead?

"What kind of business is this, exactly?" I asked, and Duncan secured his free hand around my waist as a smile grew on his lips.

"It is a deal, sweet Clarissa. All I ask for is the most passionate kiss you could muster, and then you will wake up wherever those mongrels chose to place you."

I remained in silence, dreading the idea of kissing him.

"Don't I have something else that's valuable to you?" I grilled, hoping that he'd change his mind. Duncan let me go, holding his hands up in an inviting manner.

"Please, do search. I would love to see what you have on your person that is not your tattered clothing."

I desperately looked around me, realizing just how right he was...

"Deal," I muttered, and Duncan's lips pulled back to show his glimmering, white teeth. Duncan took off his dog tags, placing them on my neck.

"For future reference, sweet Clarissa, I prefer the name Zachariah," Duncan said, his voice suddenly turning eerily demonic. He grabbed me and pulled me close, securing a hand at the back of my head before he crashed my lips to his.