Valendrial, Into the Fade

Chapter One (Part two)

I realized that I had lost my mind over the day and had pinched myself dozens of times during seven hours of work to ensure I was still living and not dreaming. My dad’s house was different in detail in the dream, but yes. There had been a party, check. There had been the hot, sexy, rich boy. Definite yep. And he strips you of your V-card! Yes, yeah, there was that. After fighting the images all day, I sat at my desk across from my stepmother; she was texting and scheduling emails after lunch. At the same time, I was reading emails and working on some editing when it flashed in my head again. I squeeze my thighs together beneath the desk when I remember those kisses and the tip of his head against my entrance when he first entered me. “It felt too real.” I let out a heavy sigh and adjusted myself in my seat.

“You feel all right, Nim. You are flushed. I hope you don’t have a fever.” I am dazed and blushing at the screen before me when I feel Cathy’s chilled fingers on my skin.

“My goodness, you’re burning up! I am telling your father, then I’ll take you home.” She gathered me up and loaded me with my briefcase and purse. I am perplexed.

“What just happened,” I murmur in confusion as I trip to the elevator. She practically shoves me in with a quick kiss to the top of my head, telling me to wait for her in the lobby below. I see her saunter off toward my father’s office with a walk I would have for a particular nineteen CEO. Well, if I had that kind of confidence.

The city is still bustling despite the late evening lengthening the shadows of the Ash trees planted in circular holes bordered with concrete around the front of my house. Has the day gone by that fast? Heading to the oak door, I suddenly feel dizzy, and my arm burns. I don’t think much of it since I was too busy to eat breakfast, thanks to a particular gentleman.

I shake it off and make my way in, but right as I unlock the deadbolt, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I quickly looked down at the street where Cathy had driven off, and there wasn’t anyone standing still or lurking, but I still rushed inside, not hesitating to put the deadbolt back into place. And the puny little ‘security’ chain into its latch with me safely inside. My heart is racing as I wait to hear if it’s my neighbor or something, anything rational to come by. I tried taking deep breaths, calming down enough to realize how paranoid I was. Though still a bit shocked, it could’ve been the lights; I go in, nodding in validation as I head to the shower. I take a calming breath and exhale slowly, shaking my fingers, rolling my shoulders, and feeling my tension at ease. I must be sicker than I realized. I made it to the small gray couch that had my plush blanket perched invitingly on the armrest; picking up my book on the coffee table in front of me, I picked up where I left off, reading “Canterbury Tales, The Wife of Bath,” knowing I wouldn’t last much longer staying awake. My consciousness fades, and the ambiance is as heavy as I dream without direction. Images past from work, people’s smiles and expressions go by as I glimpse Valendrial’s face. Blackened space gives way to a familiar scene: the hall from work. I step forward, glancing around; I am alone. The entrance is empty with its sleek, simple industrial furnishings and high glossed and polished floors of white and steel color scheme. I hear the elevator ding behind me and turn to follow it; my movements are slow and sluggish. Facing the elevator, the doors open, with Mr. Envole standing inside. He is wearing a black-on-black ensemble of black buttoned shirt and slacks, the dark attire contrasting his pale complexion and white, blonde hair. The image of him this way is enticing as he stands in the elevator, surrounded by the silver interior and the shining bronze panels. But, when I look at his face, his eyes seem dark; circles encroach around them in fatigue.

When our eyes meet, his expression is sad and tired; he lifts his arm from the elevator support rail palm up, inviting me. I approach him, but he looks behind me, and his expression is tense. I turn to see what he sees; everything goes black, and I fall into an endless pitch of darkness. I feel my body tingle in awareness. I raise my hand to my face, only to jolt and scream when I notice someone sitting beside me. “It’s me, honey! It’s me, Dad, ssh, honey, ssh!” My mind clears, and my blurry sleep vision makes his face slightly more transparent.

I take a big, deep breath in and let it out. Lifting my hands, I am shaking all over. “You scared the hell out of me, Dad! What are you doing here?”

“When Cathy said you went home early, I wanted to come by and see if you’d like to go to the doctor.” Cathy, that’s right, she brought me home.

I shake my head with the still-clearing fog, get up from the bed, and realize it’s well into nighttime, “Wait, where is Mom?” Looking from the window, I can see the Buick, but I can’t make her out. I glance at my father, who sits on the edge of the bed, looking at me with a strange expression.

Clearing his throat and standing, he says, “She is down in the car, waiting for us. She wanted to bring medicine and food, but when she mentioned a fever, I told her it’s best to have you see a doctor.” He sounds legit, but he is agitated. “Need a bag or anything? Let’s get going.” He clasps his hands, rubbing his palms together unusually.

I try to remain calm. Is something wrong? “I am fine, Dad. Really. It’s probably just an allergy thing; you know how I get. You and Mom should head home. You have meetings tomorrow and need rest. Besides, you seem short; you, okay?” Something seems off. I don’t want to turn my back on him but head to the kitchen for a glass of water. I am on edge, and something is wrong with me; I’m still paranoid. Like a prickling of alertness, I want to jump out of my skin at the next noise.

Grabbing a glass from the cabinet and turning to the sink, I see my dad standing in the entryway to my kitchen; it’s almost enough for me to jump in surprise at his quiet steps. Dressed in his grey suit from the meeting, his appearance is neat, with the same black signature hair as mine; he wore his hair short folded neatly back, the ends sweeping the tips of his ears with a distinguished grey stripe throughout. My father bore a handsome presence, with a goatee and muscle to fit his broad physique. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the kitchen entry’s frame, watching me with an unblinking expression, like a wolf eyeing a rabbit, pretending to be docile and pleasing. It sets me further on edge, “Why don’t you come with your mother and me? If you don’t want to go, at least come down and tell her so. So, she’ll see you’re well enough and won’t worry.” His tone is not as suggestive as the words would sound.

“What is this? Why are you pushing me? I said I’m okay. Just tell Mom I’ll call her in the morning.” I am leaning on the counter with my arms crossed; looking at him, I try to rationalize my anxiety. My defensive attitude works, and I see his shoulders slump and his face drop some of its edge.

“Okay, it’s me. I am worried. I push you too hard. Maybe just dinner so I know you ate well.” Putting his hands out and open, he palmed.

Now, he sounded more like himself. I feel wrong for not trusting him, “Sorry, Dad. I’m fine, but yeah, I could eat.”

Wearing a white cotton top and bottoms, I felt as bothered and frustrated as anyone in a pushy situation but hungry. I’m not ‘on the clock to impress.' Grabbing shoes on the way to the door, Dad follows me and asks, “So, what does the best Administrator in the world want for dinner?”

I giggle as we get to the door, and I throw on my jacket, leaving my dark hair loose around my waist. I consider my options, “I don’t mind where,” something occurs to me then, “Wait, I locked this. Dad, how did you get in the apartment?” Staring at the deadbolt still in place and the chain latch to the door still secured from my earlier freak-out. I hear a deep sigh, and before I can turn around. The world around me goes dark. “Sorry, this will only sting for a minute.” Sometime later, I felt my body being moved; I felt hot and uncomfortable. Feeling as though I were floating, my confusion was so heavy that I could only register a faint stinging in my neck.

“Now get her on the plane, stick her in there with that vampire. Then, they set up a meeting with the witch. We’ll leave out in the next three days to Toiseach .”