Dreamscape

Chapter 6

                Clay walls gleam in the moonlight, a light coat of moisture glistening. It must have rained while I was in the restaurant. How lucky. And it was already night time. Imagine that.

                I look over towards the figure beside me; we both lean our backs against an alley’s wall, breathing heavily from our flight away from the inn. Desmond stands closest to the alley way’s entrance, allowing him to peer around the corner every so often. I doubt it would be long until they found us huddled here.

                “Wanna tell me what that was all about?” I ask between deep gulps of air. My answer is silence. No surprise there. “No? Oh, that’s alright. It’s not like a giant mob is after me. And if they decide to throw a witch burning party, it’s not like I’ll die or anything. I’ve always wanted to be a puddle of burned flesh and bone.”

                He whirls around at me, and I feel icy fear crawling down my spine. His fingers clutch my throat and he slams me against the wall, his face inches from mine as he hisses, “I’m the only reason why you’re not at the center of a witch’s trial right now.”

                I have to give it to him; he makes a point. If it weren’t for his advice on my first day here, I would be dead, and if it wasn’t for him dragging me out here, I would wish I was dead.

                “If you hadn’t started a fight with Nikolai…”

                “If he hadn’t started a fight with me,” Desmond corrects, eyes narrowing. “And if it weren’t for your damn hair.”

                “If you hadn’t grabbed me…”

                “Oh shut up, will you?” he snarls, his nails digging into my skin. I open my mouth to protest, but his hand quickly jumped up to plant firmly against them. “Shh!”

                Torchlight shines along the entrance to the alley, and I hear voices crying out in the air. He releases his grip on my face in favor of my wrist, dragging me deeper into the alley way. I try to yank it out of his hands, but his grip is unflinching. I have no choice but to follow him. Where else would I go anyway? I still have my own blades beneath my cloak; if worse comes to even worse, I could attempt to fight back (he would so kill me). Not to mention Vivian told me that the alleys were dangerous, especially at night.

                Desmond drags me around corner after corner, down countless alleyways – we even cross the main streets a few times to wander into more alley mazes. I never realized how much of a web of streets this city was. All the buildings squashed together, one after another. Algulz sort of loses its quaint charm after this.

                After fifteen minutes or so, I find myself outside two thick wooden doors. Desmond still grips my (most likely bruised) wrist as he drags me inside who-knows-where. My lungs fill with smoke as I take a breath of air; unable to hold it in, I cough and sputter. The scent is familiar, my entire family hosts a pack of smokers, but it caught me off guard. The whole room oozes with gray smoke circling above us, yellowing the walls and ceiling. The light itself is dull, giving the room a gloomy, musty feel to it. Beat-up wooden tables with mismatched chairs fill the room; a few people sit at these, and a few at the dimly lit bar. A couple people look up at us, but then they resume either whispering to one another or their glasses of booze.

                I rub at my nose, looking inquisitively up at Desmond. As always, he says nothing as we go to the back corner. He practically shoves me down in the chair facing the wall as he slinks into the chair across from me, giving him a clear view of the door and the room. Within moments an older, gangly man brings over a pitcher of dark ale and two glasses. He sets them down on the table then moves on.