What Makes a Monster

♱Seventy-Seven♱

The first few nights in my new room result in a strange combination of lack of sleep and unbelievably comfortable rest. The nights begin with unexpected paranoia that doesn't wash over in waves but rather assaults with the overwhelming force of an abrupt punch. The once large room grows small. Walls close in, swaying in my vision as a warped expression of dull colors. The bed is too soft. Sheets too warm. Pillows too many and room too dark. A candle is lit. Shadows morph on the ceiling, through the room in an eerie dance that crowds around me until I sit up, curled in the blankets.

Malatis rests at the end of the bed. He watches me; eyes wide and tail gently swaying. I pat his head, running my fingers through his fur then over the feathers of his wings. A sense of calm comes as a blanket of warmth that twists in with the blankets I inevitably bury myself in.

I'm not entirely sure what the issue is. We're home. Soran is nearby. Malatis is here. I'm away from the possible threats downstairs. Perhaps that is the issue; threats. My co-workers and friends may be giving the enemies our secrets. Even Hael may have it out for me, out of everyone downstairs, he knows the most. So although I'm upstairs in this exquisite room that I never thought I could call my own, my worries have not been quelled. How could they when those worries may be asleep downstairs or standing outside my very door? Although the last few evenings haven't pointed to such fears coming to actually pass.

I roll onto my side, facing said door, watching for any movement, listening for any clue. There's nothing. The only noise comes from my own and Malatis' breaths. But the longer I lay here, the more comfortable it becomes. Malatis moves up the bed, curling behind my legs so that the natural heat of his body seeps in through the blankets. My own personal fluffy and feathery furnace.

When I close my eyes, I'm met with the familiar scent of the estate; freshly clean sheets, the scent of the garden somehow pushing in through the windows, the familiarity and knowledge that Soran is only a few steps away eases me into sleep. A sleep that goes uninterrupted until that paranoia returns full force; an icy breath that stings my cheeks until they're dry.

I awake to pale moonlight pouring in through the open window. The curtains billow in the cool spring breeze. Silhouettes are illuminated and shadows darken.

The window was closed when I went to sleep.

I'm about to call for Malatis when my blood shivers with ice prickling against goosebump covered skin. A voice whispers in my ear, only there is no one else in the room other than us.

Hello, Wallie.

The voice is in my mind, a deep horror that chills. My limbs are stiff. My voice won't work. I shiver in place, peering into the darkness only to see nothing, but continue to hear a deep voice.

Don't be frightened. If I wanted to harm you, it would have already happened.

I attempt to knock my leg against Malatis' side. The stranger's voice is like a spell, one that forces me to stop.

A familiar is no threat to me. Neither is Soran. Perhaps he would be if he had the guts to do what needs to be done. That doesn't matter though, I'm only here to chat. I'm curious, you see.

"Curious?" I whisper, uncertain if the stranger can even hear me. Who are they? What do they want? Does Soran know?

I will my body to move. My own limbs won't respond. Fear settles in my chest. Heavy and poisonous as lead.

Of course, curious about the one Soran is so interested in. He's always had a soft spot for humans. Ridiculous, almost sad if you ask me, but I suppose I get what he sees in you. You're not frightened of him. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he doesn't want others to fear him. Another ridiculous and sad occurrence, considering he does whatever he can to incite fear. Always so childish.

"Are...are you Quelen?" I ask. He claimed Soran has a soft spot for humans. The way he spat out "humans," like the very word is sour as spoiled milk, makes me believe he's a vampire so Quelen is the only choice that makes sense. I manage to inch my leg over enough to knock against Malatis' side. His eyes slowly open.

I am.

Malatis is now wide-awake. He's pacing the room. His tail swings violently. The window and the doorway garner his attention. He can't seem to decide which to focus on. Is Quelen nearby? Can Malatis not even find him?

"Malatis," I whisper. The only acknowledgement I receive is an ear twitch. "Malatis, is...is he out there?"

I always speak with him as if he can verbally respond. Obviously that doesn't happen, but the low growl he gives somehow answers enough. With Soran nearby, there's no doubt that he is already aware. There is no chaos within the estate. Nothing to signal trouble other than Malatis' tense demeanor.

Oh, how unfortunate. I'd love to stay and chat, but Soran is awake.

A door slams open that rattles the very rafters. When Soran doesn't appear in my room immediately, I assume that Quelen is elsewhere and he's gone to meet him, or chase him away. That is proven correct when another thunderous noise happens a moment later, presumably the front doors flying open.

I hope we chat again soon, Wallie. Do try to take care of yourself. I'm honestly intrigued about this doomed love.

"Doomed? Is that a threat?" I hiss when getting out of the bed. I can move again, uncertain if Quelen had some sort of spell on me or I was simply too scared to react.

A fire iron rests at the hearth. I switch my gaze between the window and the door. At the window, I close and lock it. The moon shines across a sleeping estate. Not completely asleep though. There's movement; Janika appears through the tree line. She steps closer, sitting near the gardens.

What can you do if it was? Tattle to Soran? I'm terrified!

His sarcasm has me rolling my eyes. I take the fire iron, holding it in my grasp as if I think it can do anything. Having a weapon is better than nothing, at least until I finally do hear voices; real ones, or at least not ones in my mind.

The voices carry from outside so I tiptoe to the window. Malatis doesn't care if he makes noise when crossing the room. He tries to keep me away from the window, pushing my legs back, but I kneel and peek over the windowsill to spot two silhouettes near Janika. I can only assume they're Quelen and Soran. One stands with a hand on their hip, calm and collected while the other waves their hand forcefully. They're too far away to hear, at least I thought they were...Quelen manages to continue the assault of my mind.

But no, that is no threat, it's simply fact. Your love will end in tragedy one way or the other.

The grip on the fire iron tightens. The cool metal stings the palm of my hand. My gaze narrows on the calm figure that, although I cannot see his gaze, I imagine it is directed at me.

You know Soran would never turn you, even if there was a way. You have two choices; grow old and die, leaving Soran behind in a cold and heartless world yet again.

His silence is unnerving, but I fear the answer to my next question even more so; "And the second?"

He will fail to protect you, just like he failed to protect his family.

As much as I hate to admit it; he's right. One way or the other, Soran will be left alone...again. And I hate that I even think of it. I don't know if I'm sick or reality is punching me in the gut, maybe both.

I wanted to meet you, personally, but Soran didn't take that well. I apologize for leaving without giving a proper introduction. We'll officially meet soon, I promise.

The voice vanishes along with the silhouette moving towards Janika. She and Quelen soar into the sky, disappearing within the dark veil of stars. The next breath I take is somehow cooler, as if I've been breathing in toxins my whole life.

♱♱♱

Ooooh, Quelen tried to meet Wallie, what do you think about what? And what do you think about what he said? Our poor Wallie, boy was just trying to get his beauty sleep!