The Dreamwalker's Path

3/ Jaeger & Jaeger, New York City

“You’re overreacting, Sebastian.” Hannah Jaeger did not look up at her grandson as she flipped slowly through the contents of a large brown folder. Her tone was as lifeless and static as a metronome, and Sebastian didn’t need to wonder if he had been reduced to white noise.

So Sebastian did one of the few things that his grandmother hated. He stood up and put both hands on her desk, leaning over the vampiress as she worked. “You need to talk to him, because if you don’t, I’m going to end up throwing him through a window and the business is going to be out a founding partner and an assassin.”

Though his mother had told him that he would more than likely go blind and once again become sensitive the psychic aspects of his surroundings, Sebastian’s sight was still sharp; as such, he didn’t need to see his grandmother’s aura to know that he had put her in a position she fervently hated. Her expression remained largely the same but, somehow when her mismatched eyes removed themselves from the file and pinned their gaze upon him, Sebastian knew that he was one careless remark from being tossed out of a window himself.

“Don’t be ignorant, Sebastian.” Click-click-click, her steady, unchanging delivery could lull an unsuspecting man into a trance. How many times had he witnessed Hannah nearly hypnotize vampire and human employees alike before reaching over and snapping their necks? The vampires learned quickly not to talk back to the Boss when she was in a bad mood. The humans were almost too easy to replace. He wouldn’t die if she broke his neck; she’d never think twice—

“Defenestration is a childish, expensive, and unnecessary means of communication. You’re an adult; you have been for several decades. If Cavan’s behavior is bothering you, I suggest that you find a way which involves neither broken windows nor bloodshed to work it out between the two of you.” She closed the file and set it to the side. “I have too many other, more important, things to fill my day with than refereeing squabbles between two supercentenarians.”

Sebastian flexed his fingers and willed himself not to dig his nails into the desk. He didn’t miss the way Hannah’s gaze shifted to regard his hands.

He stood his ground. “All I need is for you to tell him to quit changing the locks to the apartment.”

“Sebastian, you’re a vampire, you can go through the door.”

“Not when he’s also putting psychic turbulence around the apartment, and especially not while I’m re-learning how to get around now that I can’t Step out of time.” He gave her a beseeching look. “You’re the one who wanted me closer to the rest of the family while my genetics work themselves out; you don’t want me in your apartment because of the twins, and Dahlia Temperance lives on the top floor, and I don’t really see the appeal of living on top of a law firm. So, unless you want me to go back to my own apartment in Albany, someone has to talk to him.

Hannah merely raised her eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me that way, Hannah; you know he listens

to you better than he listens to anyone.” “He respects me.”

Oh yeah, that wasn’t a verbal slap in the face.

Sebastian stood up and readjusted the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Fine; when I move back to Albany, you’ll know why.”

“Oh Sebastian,” Hannah picked up another file and shook her head. “Don’t sulk so much. Just walk down the hall and tell your uncle to stop bullying you.”

Sebastian wondered what she thought he’d been doing the last nine weeks, but as it was clear that she felt this was the end of their conversation, Sebastian retreated from Hannah’s office and headed down the hall to Cavan’s.

He could hear Cavan shouting through the door as he approached it. It almost dissuaded him from going in to the office altogether, and then he remembered that if he didn’t go in, he wouldn’t be able to get into the apartment and he’d have to sit around the office waiting for Cavan to get bored of listening to him complain.

Resolve renewed, Sebastian opened the door just in time for Cavan to say:

“How many fucking times have I told you not to mess with my candy? …You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. No the centers were all sucked out of them! No it WASN’T magic, you candy raping ass—hold on.”

The vampire paced behind his desk, attached to it by the cord of his office phone. When he noticed the door had opened, he put his hand over the receiver of the device and looked expectantly at Sebastian. “I’m a little busy.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Shouting about candy?”

“No, about stolen property; I’m on the phone with the insurance company—Shut the fuck up, I can hear you snickering.” A pause. “Good I hope you choke on it. Yeah well fuck you.” He put the phone back on the receiver and looked at Sebastian again. “What?”

“You know he does that because he thinks it’s funny when you call him up shouting.”

“I’m aware of that, Sebastian, thank you. It’s still annoying as fuck that he does it at all.”

Sebastian smiled a little wryly. “You know what else is annoying as fuck?”

“Guess how much I care?”

“Coming home with an arm full of groceries and realizing that your key to your apartment doesn’t work, that’s what’s annoying as fuck.”

“It’s strange, but I’m almost positive that by asking you to guess how much I cared, I was communicating that I didn’t care at all.”

“Cavan you have to stop locking me out.”

“Why the hell should I? Neither of us want you there; just go back to Albany.”

“Believe me I would if I didn’t think that Hannah would breathe fire at m—”

“Don’t be stupid, kid, Hannah’s done a lot of impressive stuff, but she’s never breathed fire.”

“That’s not the point, Cavan.”

“I’m not sure what your point is, then. Because all I hear is you complaining about not being able to get in to the apartment.”

“Yes, because you changed the lock! Again!” This was exactly why he had wanted Hannah to talk to his uncle. Cavan had an amazing talent for steering a conversation in tight circles until you were dizzy and then kicking you on your ass. Usually his approach was strictly figurative, but somehow the argument had begun to make Sebastian feel a little sea-sick. In fact, he was pretty certain that the whole room had begun to waft whimsically.

He gripped the back of the chair on his side of the desk and scowled. “Now you’re fucking with the room? That’s mature, Cavan.”

Whatever the older vampire had expected him to say, that had obviously not been it. Sebastian had just enough time to watch Cavan open his mouth to deliver a retort and then pause—and then Sebastian’s vision went black. He saw the blue-green shimmer of Cavan’s aura flicker in concern, and then his knees gave out slightly at the sudden change of vision. Off balance and nauseated, Sebastian sagged against the chair he’d been gripping and shut his eyes tightly.

“Fuck,” he breathed the curse because, for a moment, it was the only word that his mind remembered. Fuck.

Hands grabbed at him, hauled him around the chair he was clinging to, and pushed him down.

Sebastian wanted to protest, to tell Cavan that if he didn’t stop shaking him the way he was, then he would purposefully lose his lunch on the freshly cleaned carpet, but his ability to speak was consumed by the sudden panic that everyone had been right, and he was going blind.

His heart pounded so hard it felt like the organ had grown fists and started swinging them at his lungs. This isn’t happening, he told himself. You’ve been fine for months, not even light-sensitive. This isn’t happening…

He didn’t want to open his eyes. What if all he saw was darkness and swirling colors? After seeing the world as it was meant to be seen, how was he going to be able to cope with living in the dark again?

Panic gripped him with heart-stopping intensity. For one, long moment, he allowed himself to induldge in the sensation of child-like terror that he was now blind again. And yet, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t keep his eyes closed forever. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and attempted to find whatever courage he didn’t think he possessed.

When he finally did opened his eyes again, Cavan was crouched in front of the chair, a look of deep concern etched on the wide angles of the man’s face. His face, Sebastian thought blissfully, not Cavan’s aura, but Cavan. Solid and corporeal as he ever was.

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief and brought his hand to his forehead, applying pressure on the bridge of his nose to ease the slight ache that he felt.

“You want to tell me what the hell that was?” Cavan asked, plopping onto his backside on the floor and sitting cross-legged in front of Sebastian. “You look a bit pasty. When was the last time you fed?”

Sebastian waved off the question.

“Sebastian,” Cavan spoke more forcefully now. “Do you need to eat?”

“Yes, probably. It’s been a week,” Sebastian didn’t mean to snap at the other vampire, but the words were quick and harsh just the same. He took a deep, steadying breath, and admitted, “My vision just went.”

He wanted to close his eyes, but he was afraid that if he opened them again, the sight of the deep blue rug that Hannah had carefully chosen for Cavan’s office, the dark wood of the chair he sat on, the small filing cabinet that sat in the far corner of the room, the severely worn converse and jeaned knee of his uncle that sat in his peripheral, would all disappear forever.

So he kept his eyes open until they were so dry they itched, and then, blinking quickly, he turned back to Cavan. “It was only a moment, but it took me for a bit of a turn, I think.”

Cavan looked relieved. For a moment, Sebastian thought his uncle was going to say something stupid like, “Well if that’s all...” but he didn’t. Instead, Cavan stood up and ruffled Sebastian’s hair the way that he used to do when Sebastian had been much younger, before something changed and they began to hate each other.

A key appeared in his line of sight and he took it without a word.

Cavan said, “I won’t change the locks anymore, all right? Don’t stress yourself out over such small things; you’ve got bigger stuff you have to deal with.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best to remember that.” Sebastian pulled a key ring from his pocket and slipped the new key onto it. “You mind dropping me off? I think I need a nap.”

“You should eat something.”

“There are a few blood packets in the back of the fridge.”

“You should eat something fresh,” Cavan clarified,

“instead of that diluted crap.”

“Unless you’re offering I don’t have much of a choice, Cavan.”

Cavan snorted. “Sorry, I’m a one vampire kind of man. Besides, what would the community say if I let my lover’s son take a nibble?”

Sebastian made a face.

“Oh grow up, kid. Get a girlfriend of your own,” Cavan grabbed a hold of Sebastian’s shoulder and pulled him through the air.

A few moments later, Sebastian found himself on the dilapidated couch in Cavan’s apartment, Cavan standing behind him. “The witch down south might be tasty,” the older vampire noted.

Sebastian cast an annoyed glance at his uncle. “That’s not a conversation I want to have with you.”

“Eh, whatever.” Cavan let him go and wandered into the kitchen. The sounds of rummaging followed and then Cavan asked, “Do you care what blood type?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it tastes any different with the shit they put in with it.”

“Hey,” Cavan’s pause was punctuated by a few beeps of the microwave. “That shit is the reason you don’t have to go to Florida to eat, kid. Don’t knock it.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “How is she, by the way?”

“Who?”

“Ophelia. The woman who you’ve been stalking since February.”

“Ah.” Cavan went quiet as the microwave ran its course. When he returned to the living room, he brought with him a large coffee mug. “She’s fine. Stubborn as you said she was, completely resistant to learning anything that might be useful when it comes to her abilities, but carrying on.” He offered the mug to Sebastian. “She feels guilty about you.”

“You should tell her not to,” Sebastian muttered, reaching for the mug and looking at the contents a little speculatively.

“She’s human, kid. Telling her not to feel guilty for something she feels responsible for is like telling a dog not to wag its tail when it’s happy.”

Sebastian took a sip so he didn’t have to respond to that. The blood hit his belly, churned a bit, but eventually the warmth and the energy the blood carried spread to his limbs and he began to feel steady again.

Cavan sat down on the couch next to him and picked up the controller for the T.V. and a second controller for his Xbox. “You gonna see her when you’re all patched up?”

Sebastian didn’t want to answer that, either. Luckily, it appeared that he didn’t have to, because Cavan looked like he was going to content himself with sitting on the couch and playing Black Ops: Zombies.

“Does this guy sound like Nik to you?” Cavan jutted his chin at the T.V., apparently talking about the Russian character he was playing.

“I hope he finds out you asked that and shoots you in the face,” Sebastian murmured behind his mug. Somehow, Sebastian didn’t put it passed the man in question to do just that—not because he was offended, but because it gave him an excuse to shoot Cavan.

Cavan shrugged. “So are you going to see her?” He asked again like it was nothing.

“I don’t know, Cavan. Maybe. Not now, though. Not if my sight flashing back and forth is going to become a new thing.”

“Good idea,” Cavan said as a zombie Nazi leapt out of nowhere and flailed at his character. “You should definitely wait.”