The Invitation

Dana's been dreaming of something dark hunting her but all he wants is acceptance.

With dark hair and a smooth complexion, he should have been handsome, if not outright gorgeous, but all he did was make the icy hand of terror clutch her heart. Satan was supposed to be beautiful after all, or so the stories say.

He reached for her with one hand, the other still pointing a curved sword at her. Dana shrank from his gesture, whimpering wordless prayers. Darkness flashed across his features and he pulled back, dropping the blade to his side.

His eyes, orbs of the dead, burned with an intensity that made her knees shake and a scream build in her throat. His eyes… she couldn’t take it anymore.

The shriek ripped out of her and echoed in the darkness of her room. She shot up in an upright position in her bed.

Thomas stirred in his sleep and mumbled, “Nightmare again, babe?”

“Yes.”

He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. She wiggled back down and settled against his firm chest. But, she couldn’t shake the fear something hunted her.

The dreams started a couple of weeks ago. At first, she dismissed them as an overactive imagination. But now?

“Something’s coming for me,” she said to no one in particular.

Thomas squeezed her, but his touch didn’t bring its usual comfort.

The next day, she went about her usual business, but she couldn’t dismiss the growing sense of impending doom. Every shadow seemed ominous, reaching for her, stealing the light from each room she walked into.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she decided to go take a nap.

Dana woke up in the early evening to someone looming in the corner, where the shadows were the darkest. Her chest clenched, making her head spin.

Whoever it was stood with their back to her, wearing a dramatic black top hat and fringed leather jacket. Though the clothes seemed unfamiliar, she knew the shape of the muscular back and the way the pants sculpted his rear end.

“Thomas?” she asked, stepping out of the bed.

The figure didn’t stir, didn’t give any indication he heard her, but she was sure it was Thomas. Her feet dragged her forward, one step at a time.

She whispered again, “Thomas?”

A shiver ran down her spine when he still didn’t acknowledge her. He stood too still, facing the black corner.

Her hand stretched out, ready to tap him on the shoulder, when he spoke, “You didn’t make this easy.”

His voice… it was wrong. Each word dragged out too slow. Dana yanked her hand back to her chest, taking a step back.

He said, “You could have made this easy. Could have made it more pleasant for everyone involved, but you wouldn’t say yes. You were always going to accept one way or another.”

“I don’t understand,” she said and took another step back.

As if moving through molasses, he turned around. When he finally faced her, she gasped.

Though he bore Thomas’s features, with his spiked blonde hair, and tattoos peeping out above his jacket collar, his eyes held no hint of her lover. Eerie white orbs stared at her, burned into her, and seemed to probe the very corners of her soul.

She shook her head back and forth. “No. No. No!”

“You gave me no choice, my dear.” Thomas’s lips moved but the inhuman voice flowed from it, “This would have been painless for you. A simple passing in your sleep and then we would have been together forever. Now, I have to do it the hard way.”

Dana cried out again, with more force, “No! This is a dream. I fell asleep, I’m still napping. You’re not real!”

His lips parted in a cruel smile, flashing white teeth and malice all at once. Nothing pleasant could come from such a grin.

“Do you really think so? Hmmm, I was more real in your dreams than you’re giving me credit for, but that’s neither here nor there. No, the issue at hand is how we’re going to take care of you now where I am very much ‘real’.”

“Wake up Thomas! Please, baby, wake up.” Maybe, just maybe, she could reach through to the man she loved and get him to boot out the devil possessing him.

But, he just shook his head in response and took a step towards her. He held no sword this time, but he was just as menacing. Every move she made provoked another step from him until the bed hit her in the back of the knees. He was a mere three feet away. He could reach out and touch her.

“Don’t fear me so,” he crooned, “I have no intention of making this any worse than necessary.”

“Please, Thomas,” Dana begged.

His hand cupped her cheek, rubbing her skin with an affection that seemed out of place. Part of her wanted to embrace the touch, pretend it was Thomas loving her, but she would not give in to the monster wearing his flesh.

“Thomas,” she said again.

His hand slipped to her neck, followed by the other. She clawed at the strong limbs lifting her into the air, pinching off her oxygen supply.

One more strangled cry for him to wake up escaped her before she could only wheeze and gurgle desperate gasps. Her feet kicked at the air and she felt the pressure building in her head. The dull pounding of her heart grew into a deafening cacophony of waves rolling through her ears. Blackness edged in at the corners of her vision, a dark fog weighing her limbs down, making her feeble attempts at escape flutter to a stop.

Her head lulled back, her eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling, but still he held on. When she didn’t so much as twitch, he laid her tenderly on the bed and brushed her forehead with a kiss.

“See? That wasn’t so terrible, was it? I shall see you on the other side.”

Without another word or action, Thomas’s chin dropped to his chest as if he’d been sleeping. Seconds later he took in a sharp breath and blinked his eyes multiple times, trying to shake the remnants of unconsciousness.

He glanced around the room in confusion and then his gaze fell upon the bed. A howl burst out of him and he dropped to his knees beside her. In the weak evening light, the dark bruises coloring her throat were visible. Fighting back tears, he raised his hand and lined it up with the distinct marks on her cooling skin.

“Oh gawd, what have I done?”

A voice chuckled from somewhere too close to his soul, “God had nothing to do with it.”