A Dreamer's Realm 3


Chapter Three: Angelic Deviations

“I feel that there is an angel inside me whom I am constantly shocking.”

~Jean Cocteau

Out of everyone there, Connor trusted Sarah more. The red haired waitress was the first one he had hired when he opened the bar, and had seen the kind of people Connor usually hung out with. It wasn’t easy deceiving her; she simply knew Connor inside out and knew whenever the man was lying to her about anything. She knew.

That night she walked over to Connor just before she left for the night. “Everything okay?” she asked. Connor nodded, distracted. “You’ve been acting funny for the last couple of days,” she said. She touched his shoulder and made him look at her. “MORE than usual, that is.”

He looked at her for a moment and then showed her his hands. “What do you see?” he asked.

“That you haven’t washed your hands all night.”

“See? That’s just it!” he half hissed, half whispered to her. “You’re human! You don’t see it!”

“See what?” Sarah sounded confused. She knew all about Connor and his true nature, but even for him this was sounding kind of crazy.

“The circles! In my hand – there are circles, like burned circles, and they have been there since ---” he was about to say something else, but just then he felt a pounding in his head so painful that actually made him lose consciousness.

An undeterminable amount of time later, he woke up with a pounding in his head only equal to having little people hammering inside his brain with tinny silvery hammers. His entire body felt a little numb as he started to turn to see where he was. A beeping sound. He looked over to his left to see a monitoring machine telling them that his heartbeat was slightly lower than normal – for human standards. For angels? Perfectly okay. He found himself with an IV up his arm, pumping some sort of yellowish liquid into his system, not that it would do good, but it was going in anyway.

“You’re awake!” he heard Casey, one of the nurses say. She had this angelic glow of relieve as she wrote down stats on her chart, “You had us worried! Your friends are here…”

My friends? Connor thought, and looked over at the room’s wide window that gave a nice view of the hallway. There stood Mike (the bar’s bartender – a skinny young man with short black hair and brown puppy eyes who looked at Connor as if he was terminally ill), Harvey (a good looking guitar player who played in the band; he had long blonde hair with bangs and olive-green eyes that seemed to speak the devil’s tongue every now and then) and Sarah. “They came as soon as we phoned them,” he heard Casey’s nice voice again, “They have been really worried about you – except maybe your friend over there, the one with the dirty jacket and dark glasses: I think he’s only here for the nurse uniforms…”

“Yeah, Harvey’s a skank.”

“We were worried sick about you!” Mike argued a couple of minutes later, when Casey and the Doctor in charge gave them the okay to go in, “You crashed into the floor ---”

“Not cool,” Harvey interrupted.

“—left everyone high and dry, completely thrown off by your actions –“

“—and we had to tell a whole bunch of lies to a whole bunch of people!!” Sarah exclaimed.

“The point here is that when they called us over at the bar, we thought you were dead!” Mike was totally freaking out.

“He did,” Harvey said.

“I mean, what the fuck we were going to do with a dead body?!”

“Fuck it!” They all turned to Harvey, “What? Dead or not, I know of several sick fuckers who would pay dearly for this fucker’s ass!”

“Well, it’s been fun being here, but I think we can all agree that we all want to go home now, don’t we?” Connor started to get out IV lines and monitoring wires.

“Hey! Stop doing that!” Mike exclaimed, being aided by Harvey and Sarah as he tried to get Connor back in bed, “Nurse!” he screamed out, “Crazy patient trying to escape here!!”

Casey came in, “Connor! What are you doing?!”

“I want to go home now…”

“You can’t. We’re still waiting on your labs…”

Connor froze. Did she just say something about… labs?

Oh dear lords. Connor knew what was going to happen next. People in the laboratory where going to go paranoid when they found unknown species of cell bodies inside that sample. He could see could see himself in a CIA underground experiment facility somewhere in… Somalia!!!

“Oh dear God, no!! Not Somalia!!” he exclaimed with anguished voice, squeezing the bed sheets tightly against his body.

“Connor, what the hell are you talking about?” Harvey asked looking at Connor as if the boy had completely lost his marbles.

“I can’t go to Somalia, Harvey…” Connor looked back at him with lost puppy eyes.

“Agreed… Not Somalia,” he heard a southern-accented voice coming from the door. A white lab coat was now walking towards them signing a chart and giving it to the nurse, “Mr. Hayden can go now, thank you.”

“Okay doctor.”

Doctor? Connor had to make an incredible effort not vomit right then and there. Danka looked at everyone in the room “Please, if you would allow me a moment with mah’ patient?” the doctor said with a sweet smile.

“What are you doing here, Danká?” Connor asked seriously. Danká had closed the curtains and had handed Connor his clothing bag.

“What? No kissy? I was kind of expectin’ some kissin’!” he smiled. Connor was not amused. He took a deep breath. He showed Danka his hands. “What do you see?” he asked. Danka looked at the hands, then at Connor, and smiled. He took off his white robe, took off his scrub shirt and turned around. There, on his back shoulder, Connor could see the same symbols that were burned into his hand.

“So,” Danka said turning around. “Are you ready to talk yet? Or do you want me to send the labs over to Somalia?”

As they walked inside Connor’s apartment (above the bar), Danka had a strange feeling of coming home. It wasn’t hard to place a spell on everyone involved in the case to make believe that Connor was okay and was able to go home that same afternoon. Inside the room, Connor had a small bar where he headed as soon as they walked in. He took out two glasses and poured some whiskey into them. Danka sat in one of the stools. “Talk,” Connor said as he handed him the glass. Danka smiled for a minute or two. “What? Are you going to sit there, looking stupid now?”

“Okay, here’s the deal: I’ll spill my beans and make sure Heavy and everyone else at the city is off your case about going back home… if you hide someone for me here, you know, give him shelter, just for a while. You see, he’s sort of, in a way, running from the celestial law and he needs to have a low profile while he regains his strength and composure.”

“Who?” Connor asked. The entire idea started to sound less and less appealing.

“A… friend…” Danka said as he drank the whiskey in one gulp as if one was drinking water.

“I know the sort of scum you hang out with – Who?”

He felt it – it was as if cold, icy water was running down his spine. The sight of the good-looking man standing on the door that led to his bedroom, wearing a bathrobe and still steaming from the shower he had taken not even a few minutes ago. Connor’s jaw dropped. He had an innocent smirk on his face that matched his perfect baby blue eyes. He had long, golden blonde hair in delicate waves that reached his kneecaps.

“I know what you’re thinking!” Danka said trying to calm him down. “But he has changed! He’s no longer the blood-thirsty crazy demon he once was,” he turned to the man. “Are you?” he asked in a severe tone. The man shook his head. Connor screamed out desperately, running towards him, heaving and panting. The man smiled sweetly.

“Hi,” he said.

“Out!” Connor screamed pointing to the exit door, “Get out!”

Danká walked in from behind, “Here’s the deal,” he said taking Connor to sit on one of the stools as the man sat next to him, “We need Aramis here to lay low for a while. He stays with you, I get my business in order, we’re all very, very happy indeed. What d’ yah say?”


“Wait,” Danká said politely, “you haven’t heard the good part!” Connor looked at him in disbelief, “Yes, there is a good part. Now, I know that sounds weird coming from me and all but trust me, it might interest an old witch like you.”

“I doubt it!”

“Been having bad dreams lately, Elaosu?” Connor turned to look at Aramis, who smiled eerily. “Dreams like – a city melting? A girl dying while Danka here holds her heart in his hands? Yeah, I’ve seen you at the top of the hill, looking down at it, and I’ve seen you screaming at the hospital. And then there is the fucking symbols no one else can see and fuck do they sting!” Aramis took off the robe, revealing two symbols identical to the ones Connor had on his hands, but considerably bigger and on the planes of his shoulders, linked together by flames across his back, “I must admit,” he whispered lustfully, “they keep me turned on…”

Connor looked in disbelief, tracing the burned images with his fingers.

“So,” Aramis said rubbing his hands together, “For what I know, we’re in deep shit, and I don’t mean “Oh my God I’m in deep shit!”, but more like, “This shit is so deep it required aeons in development to come together and form the pile in which I am now submerged in”… yeah.”

“Can we talk ‘bout this with drinks?” Danká suggested. Like a robot, Connor took the whiskey bottle and rank what was left on it. Danká turned to Aramis. “He’s taking it well, don’t you think?” he asked. Aramis gave out a deep sigh.

“I do not intend to know everything.” Aramis began, “But I do know that I am the one who knows a bit more. For what Danká has told me, I could master some information that I hope it will be completed with whatever you can spill. So, my story starts with me, minding my own business --”

“In hell,” Connor interrupted. “As the demon you are, you were sent to hell, am I correct or am I missing something here?”

“Yes, in hell. I was quite enjoying the rest and relaxation I was so gratefully provided by good old Lucifer – nice fellow, a bit on the loony side, quite misunderstood – when I started to feel strange… and I assumed that for someone who is a spirit, to feel something as physical as pain would be terribly wrong. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled by this nice young fellow here… who needed a favor from me.”

“But we’re not here to discuss that issue, are we?” Danká seemed nervous, “Move along, move along…”

“So, after providing Danká with… stuff… I decided to travel the universe, see what was the new order, and came to find I was no longer a God, nor an angel, nor a demon – I was a legend! I was so happy! Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my sole name would bring so many angels to their knees in sheer horror! Well, I came to Earth and found myself in Egypt, where I found out about this thing that’s been going on under our noses for the last couple of eons. These (he pointed at Connor’s burned hands) are no casual thing. These are the markings of the chosen Immortals, warriors of the Underworld, as cliché as it might sound… but that was way after I started having the dreams.”

“What dreams?” Connor didn’t even notice he sounded interested all of a sudden, but Aramis did and he was pleased.

“The first dream I had came when I was traveling over Chimera, the old Atlian moon. I was at the Khoriean city, and Kube was sustaining what was left of his castle. His warriors had long been killed, it seemed, and he was struggling to keep the energy flowing through the Hexagon. Then, it was surrounded by a blood circle with strange scriptures around it – and that angel and that woman appeared… I knew I’ve seen them before, in old books the Gods keep over at the Tizcat and some old papyrus I’ve left over at an old Atlianian temple to Acbal. So I when I woke up I drew the circle and showed it to Daih, an old demon back in Egypt who used to be one of the most powerful demons in the good old days.” He said taking a piece of paper out from his left pocket and showing it to Connor, who looked over at it with udder interest as Aramis went on, “He told me something about a holy battle that was about to take place in the realm of the Dreams; that they had been gathering the pieces of the Formation to open the gates and bring over the Old Empire, a thing that usually means everything is wiped out, and restart a new. Since Daih was making as much sense as a monkey on crack, I decided to investigate with the little information he gave me, and went over at my old lair, surprised to see it still standing. The scriptures talk about the city of Morpheus, when the Dream Empire was within all its glory; before the Dreamer destroyed it. His name was Sleipnir. He is said to be a powerful sorcerer, much like a God, or even higher. He sleeps and dreams us all; we are all but figments of his powerful imagination. And you would think that this circle come from the Dreamer, right? But then I started reading a bit more, clicking everything Daih had told me little by little, and found out that these scriptures,” Aramis pointed to the letters surrounding the circle, “are an ancient language spoken only by angels of Kaikeyi. It says “seven suns that rise together. Light to Darkness; Life to Death; and in the middle Time keeps all tracks of Destiny’s Dream…” and then I remembered that the Ōris Clan markings where similar to these.”

“The Ōris Clan… God’s Assassins.” Connor whispered.

“Good!” Aramis cheered, “An educated angel! Who would of thunk it? So, after this I met with Danká again, who told me about these dreams he’d been having about the Fairy Kingdom, the girl with the bloody heart, and about an angel, whose name is… what was his name again, Danká?”

“ Yune; crazy mother-fucker, blood thirsty as I’ve ever seen one.”

“At first we thought he was a demon, but he has celestial vibrations – goody-godly vibrations even. And then there was the symbols equal to that Sunshine had on his back, and I figure that either we had a heavily drunken party and ended-up with kick-ass tattoos… or somehow we became part of a ramification of the Ōris Clan. In any case, I think it’s pretty fucked up if they chose beings such as me, or Danká – or you, Hard Rock.”

“But… I still don’t understand.” Connor looked puzzled, “What do we have to do in any of this?”

“I don’t understand either, well, not entirely that is.” Aramis shrugged his shoulders, “But I guess all will be revealed in good time. All I know is that we need to stick together, and that we need to find two others with symbols similar to these – Daih told me.”

“And you know we trust good ol’ Daih…” Danká said ironically. Connor looked at Aramis for a minute then said, “You can stay… but under certain rules.”

“Go on…”

“I don’t want demons and angels knowing who you are. This place is neutral and I don’t want problems. Sarah knows what I am but she can’t know about you, I don’t want her to freak out even more.”

“I can do that.”

“And you will work to pay for your stay. You can have the room at the end of the hall.”

“Okay, deal. I live as close as homeless as I ever lived, anything else?”

“My name is Connor Hayden. None of this Hard Rock or Elaosu name goes on around here, got it?”


“And I don’t want any random murders!”

“Connor, baby, I’m a demon not a butcher!”

“I know you.”

Aramis sighed. “You got yourself a deal.” He said finally, “I’ll behave – you have my word. I’ll be good,” he battered his eyelashes with a completely innocent look.

“God that’s just scary!” Connor whined.

“Tell me ‘bout it.” Danká drank directly from the bottle, “The last time I saw that look, Bambi’s mom got shot.”

------ O -------

I know I'm an angel, and I know I should be looking for the goodness in people and all that but -- Aramis is driving me insane!

I introduced him to the rest of the staff as Matthew Gray, and Aramis began to speak with this perfect British accent (the girls say it’s sexy as hell). I told them he would be working with us from then on and that they should show him the ropes of the business while I was going out for a couple of hours. Well, it was only a matter of three hours that I left him alone here and by the time I got back, he’d already placed a “closed down for remodeling” announcement on the door and inside – he was remodeling! Apparently he’s a RICH demon and decided to invest his million-dollar account here. His accountant almost had a heart attack when he told her the news.

He became very accustomed to life here. He likes to boss people around and he’s a damn good manager. Mike bitched and complained about it, but then he got to see the plans Aramis had inside his head and was his new and devoted follower (I am scared). So, Aramis got to work, right? He got cages for the go-go girls and the stage is a bit bigger. He got new lighting and new smoke machines. He went neon-crazy, yet it looks cool. The rock essence is still there – but in Technicolor! He got new sound systems and a new DJ, even though it’s not a dance club he said that this was no reason to go cheap on the music. He got male strippers for the ladies night and the gay night, and stripper girls for the rest of the weekends. He got a beautiful karaoke machine, along with seven small monitors and three big-ass plasma screens that roll videos all the time – except on Mondays, when we plan to do Monday Night Football, and on special sporty occasions. I must admit: he knows what the hell he does. PLUS, he brought the new uniforms for the staff and I must admit that everyone is very happy about it – even me.

On his spare time he likes to read… and argue passionately with himself about whatever he is reading. The other day he and Harvey were almost screaming at each other over if Mary had a little lamb. Harvey likes him; I can tell. And he loves to paint too… but he stopped doing it when I found out that he was using human blood to mix the paints and inks. He tried to make it better by telling me that the blood came from thieves and whores. I felt kind of bad – the corner whore is nowhere to be found… yet he made an amazing copy of a Picasso and it’s hanging from the bar’s wall.

Aramis never sleeps. That’s the main reason he’s driving me insane. He stays up at all times, all hours, and sometimes decides to decorate his room (we’ve made some adjustments to my floor so one of the old rooms was available for him to say at) and pounds heavily on the walls, screaming in God-knows what language, laughing maniacally once in a while. And then I get the heebes-geeves, because I knock on his door and he opens it slightly, giving me this child-like smile that just looks creepy coming from him. And then, when I think about all the evil he is capable of, I lose sleep. It’s frightening to picture him doing all the things I know he did and all the other things I’ve been told he did.

Danká comes here often. Danká is an old friend of mine, fun to be with. He has the face of an innocent, yet he’s the most perverted mind I’ve ever came across with. He’s not from around here, but when he talks he’s got this very southern, very bayou kind of accent that makes it a bit hard to follow if you’re not familiar with him. But, I was telling you that he comes often. He didn’t work, but he does drink like there is no tomorrow. So I told him to either pay his fucking tab or go. So he started as a part-time bartender. I must admit, he’s damn good. If he was half as good as he is at this in everything else he does, he would be a damn good one – demon, angel… even pimp. Yeah. He would make a good pimp… and Mike would be his favorite whore...

Dear God! Help me!

“How do the angels get to sleep when the devil leaves the porch light on?”
~Tom Waits



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