The Enchanted

Chapter-23

I got out of my car and ran to my house. It had started to rain and the weather had worsened. I had never thought that all the paranormal activity in this town was what made it so cold here. I suppose the paranormal activity must have been on an all-time high because it was freezing. 

Rubbing my hands together, I closed the door and dropped my dripping coat on the rack. I had lowered my guard tonight and nearly given myself away. I needed to be more cautious. My mind was filled with the conversation with Elara. I couldn't believe I finally knew about the rabbit and the wolves, the howls and the hand. I still didn't know what to make of Sabrina lying to me.

 Before I knew it, I began to feel sleepy again. This time I was determined to stay longer than I usually did, to see who drained the blood from the bodies and what happened after I left. I wanted to find some clue which would lead me to this dreadful killer. The murders emotionally drained me and I was usually unable to sleep afterwards. 

Dragging myself to my bed, I felt my eyes close. I was back in yet another dream. It was dark all around and the hooded figure was dragging the body of a teenage boy, who was whimpering in pain. This time I heard him speak some words. He was pleading with the murderer who paid him no attention and continued dragging him around. 

It was raining in my dream too and I followed the hooded figure to an old warehouse. Instead of walking, I usually floated in my visions. I hovered around while the hooded figure broke open the warehouse lock. My heart was pounding badly, for I knew what was about to come next. 

The figure bent down on the ground and did something though I couldn't see what. The dream was still pretty blurry but oddly enough it looked like he was smelling dirt. I frowned at him. Why wasn't he stabbing the boy who was cowering on the ground? It happened usually when my dream started. 

Perhaps I was ready for this dream this time or had accepted my powers- whatever the reason, this dream had begun earlier. The murderer seemed to be in no hurry either and he spent the time questioning the boy and yelling at him. Here, the dream quality got a little shaky and I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying. 

Thunder rumbled outside and that seemed to spur the figure. It was either that or the boy's answers had displeased him. He took out a knife hanging from his belt and plunged it into the boy's chest. 

The boy gurgled something and then feel to the ground. He lay there unmoving. He was dead. 

The wailing started as soon as I saw his lifeless body on the ground. It was loud and harsh and my heart felt like it was drowning in sorrow. I wailed and wailed and then finally stopped. The crying had always been heart-rending and mournful and it took the energy right out of me. 

As usual, the dream began to slip away and I felt myself starting to return to reality. 

'No, no, no.' I thought desperately, trying my hardest to somehow cling to dream. I wanted to find some clue and wanted to see what the hooded figure did with the body. I was emotionally and physically exhausted and yet somehow, I managed to return. 

If the dream had felt hazy before, it was nothing compared to how it was now. It was full of what felt like static and every step I took tired me out. Still, I was glad to have at least entered the dream again. 

I arrived at the old warehouse and floated inside. The figure was still there though I seemed to have missed the part where he had drained the dead body of blood and which was lying chalk white on the ground. 

The figure had apparently filled a jug full of blood and was holding it carefully. I watched in shock as another hooded figure emerged from the back of the warehouse. I knew they couldn't see me but I still felt myself shivering from cold and fear. 

The first figure barked out an order and the second nodded. 

He proceeded to drag the lifeless body to the middle of the room. The other guy came forward and dipped his hand into the jug. His hand came out smeared with blood. Pressing his palm on the dirt he began drawing around the dead body as I watched him in fascination and horror. 

What were they even doing? Why were they killing innocent people and then drawing around with their blood? I felt myself crying and this time the tears were my own. 

While the first had been drawing around, the other hand began to light candles and was placing them on marks drawn by blood. The flames flickered as a gust of wind flew into the room but didn't go out. I kept staring at them, trying to pick up some clue but there wasn't any except that both of them were dressed in dark clothes. They were so covered that I couldn't even make out a single feature. 

While I was watching them, I also kept feeling little pulls towards reality but I refused to give in. I knew there was a chance I might get stuck here but I needed some information first. My conscience troubled me. I wanted to help. 

Both of them finally finished and stood a little way off. I saw a pentagram drawn around the body, candles placed at various points. My attention was drawn from the pattern as a low humming filled the room. Looking over, I realised it was coming from the two figures. The last thing I heard was some weird chanting before I got pulled away from the dream back into reality.