The infelicitous

chapter 3

That night he didn't sleep so well.

He tossed and turned, dug clawed fingers into the aged mattress. He had delayed going to sleep for as long as he could.
First, he'd walked Kayla back to her room, the metal 15 stamped onto the wooden door had winked with a dim shine. He couldn't help himself asking her why she spent so much time with Dakota.

"Dakota is...different" was her response. Leylan watched her play with the lipstick in her palm.
"You find Kota attractive don't you?" He mocked.
"Fuck off Ley"
"It's true! Dakota never uses Kota unless on a mission, and around you, of course. My guess is the feelings are reciprocated." Despite his own pang of jealousy, Leylan began making kissing noises. "OH KOTA! KOTA OH!"
Kayla's fist collided with his stomach.
"You are such a dick" she sighs, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she opened her room door.
"I'm your dick though right?"
"Nah, not into that"
"Awe, not even an exception for me?"
"No."
The door slammed behind her, the noise vibrating down the corridor. He couldn't help chuckle to himself as he walked away.

A startled cry ripped from his throat as the nightmares continued to plague him that night.

Dense forest canopies blocked out their only source of light, only few beams of moonlight penetrated through the thick black blanket of leaves above their heads. Leylan wouldn't stop running, his paws slashing against the mossy undergrowth, his corse black fur contrast the snowy-white she-wolf pounding along beside him.
Cackling laughter echoed around the forest, coming from every and no direction.
The little girl on his back gripped onto his fur tighter, her long hair whipping against the breeze. The girls breathing was becoming shallow. Shadows lashed out, entangling themselves on loose branches, snaking around the trees in attempt to snag hold of his paws. It worked. Leylan felt himself fall, bones popping. The girl was crying silently.
"Leylan,we can't stop"
He watched her shift, going from her dazzling white fur to her flawless Latino skin. Big, pleading eyes stared back at him.
"Leylan get up!"
He did. Staggered to his feet, the small girl held to his chest.
Feeling a hand slide into his, he gave it a small reassuring squeeze, turning to run, but their path was blocked.
A woman -if you could call her so- towered over the twins, eyes blazed, gaze never leaving the child in his arms. She seemed to have no feet, instead shadows encircled her, snapping back and forth, tangling around her waist like loyal hounds. He fingers brushes between the shadows, as delicate as they were dangerous. She hissed, pointed teeth bared. She had no eyes.

Give me my child.

The voice echoed within his head, causing him to stumble. He held onto the girl tighter, feeling her small body shiver. He looked over at Luciana, watching her clench her fists, biting her bottom lip. Her right foot moved back, she lent forward. She looked at him. He nodded at her. They didn't have to say a word. He didn't get a chance to say the word. He didn't even remember her letting go.

Luciana sprung towards the dæmon, her battle cry transformed into the call of a hawk, slashing the dæmon woman with her talons, drawing white fluids from the she-dæmons throat. The girl cried out.

And laylan....he ran.

Keen ears kept the battle alive in his mind, the cry of the hawk against the howl of the dæmon. They had agreed that getting Freja to Hotropia was more important, and if one must stay behind to fight then so be it. The pact hadn't dawned on him truely until he heard the hawk cry change to the pain laced scream of a girl moments later. Then, Silence.

And all he could do was run away from the memory of Luciana, her scream echoing through his head all the way home. He never got to say goodbye.

Leylan woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing. The uncontrollable feeling of guilt seeped into him. He felt himself rock back and forth. 3 years ago. It had all happened 3 years ago, yet every night he was haunted by the same memory.
He shook his head, imagining the memories flying off of him like dew drops, and flung his legs off the edge of the bed. The pillow was a murder scene, feathers everywhere. He'd have to ask Dakota for a new one...again.
He reached under the bed, pulling out the carrier bag he'd stolen from Ms.Waye. Toying with the plastic between his fingers, he pulled open the bag as gently as he could, the russle of the plastic barely audible. He reached within, pulling out a selection of items. A set of cooking knives (would be sent straight to their makeshift armory), food items (the kitchen) and a bottle of wine. He contimplated what to do with that one.
He threw each item aside, pulling out the bag the one thing that had caught his eye, the reason he hadn't dropped the carrier bag along with the handbag in the alley.

A dreamcatcher.

The woven net consist of entwined black and white threads criss-crossing across the frame, the rim of the dreamcatcher a caramel brown. But the feathers were what caught his attention the most, the brown and white striped feathers were swinging gently in the none existent breeze. He stroked one of the feathers with the tips of his fingers, watching the feather's bristles spring back into place. The feathers continued to swing. Leylan raised his eyes, looking up at the ceiling, frowning.

The building began to shake.