Dreamers Anonymous {ask}

[Lillie Galleau]

The man screamed, bringing his pistol up as the monster charged. It moved fast; too fast for his eyes to follow and he squeezed his finger reflexively, cursing each time a bullet hit the opposite wall. Behind him, his wife and daughter cried in unison, holding onto one another and hiding their eyes from the beast with two heads. It was like a shadow, slithering left and right with the light from the swinging chandelier above them. The only piece of it that had any color was its teeth; two sets of pearly whites, dripping with saliva, and its claws, stained with fresh blood.

His son’s blood. His baby.

The thing charged again, a howl tearing through the house- his great, great-father’s house, built on the rolling hills of his beloved Virginia- and the windows around him shattered. He had to protect his family, had to stop that thing before it got too close. The primal need set a cool blanket of calm onto his shoulders as he lifted his pistol once again, gritting his teeth against the harsh sound of another howl. A hunting sound.

The beast came at them again, fangs bared and claws up. He squeezed the trigger…going in for the kill shot…he’d put down enough rabid animals in his time to know how…no way he could miss…

The chamber clicked. Empty. He’d failed.

With a scream, Lillie shot up, hands coming up to protect herself from the beast hurtling toward her. She waited for the pain, the claws to tear into her arms…nothing.

“Holy guacamole,” She gasped, taking in a large gulp of air. A dream, it was just another dream. Slowly, she forced her stiff arms to lower, still half expecting that imminent attack. She could smell its foul breath as it sank its jaws into her- the man’s- arm, feel the pain of having her chest torn out—

With a violent shake of her head, she swung her legs out of the side of the bed. It wasn’t her; it was just a dream. They’d become more frequent now, each worse, more bloody with every passing day. In the past, she’d merely shrugged it off as indigestion, arguments with her brothers, bad months in the Gallery.

But now, she knew that they were real. A man and his family had just been murdered by a monster. God, what did it mean?

Paint it, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, familiar in its sweetness. The need, the compulsion to put the images to canvas was just as strong as she remembered, and twice as urgent. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the need and hopped out of bed, moving to the bathroom. She tasted blood in her mouth, felt its slippery texture on her arms and she needed a shower. Once that was done, she decided that she needed breakfast. Then that the living room needed cleaning, a few phone calls needed to be made, her bedroom needed to be picked up…

God, she didn’t want to paint it; didn’t want to think that she’d just watched a stranger and his loved ones die. But the ever-so-familiar headache started in the back of her eyes, slowly moving until it settled at the base of her skull. It throbbed, burned, itched, stung, until she couldn’t take it anymore. Fingers tight on her cane, she hobbled into her art room, shoved open the window and began to paint.

The images poured out of her like an overfilled tank, each brush stroke bringing relief. When the painting was done, she sagged back in her chair, a relieved sigh shooting out of her chest. God, another one for the basement. Tyson wasn’t going to be pleased.

Trudging out into the courtyard that connected her house to the Gallery, she carried the painting under her arm, image pointed inward, just in case old Mrs. McCarthy was spying with her telescope again. The Gallery door jingled as she shuffled in, head down, hoping to all that was holy that she could get upstairs without—

“Lillie!” Tyson crowed from the kitchen. “THERE you are! Honey, I been lookin’ for you; was just gonna knock on your door in a bit if you didn’t show your face. I mean, what’s with you this week? Ever since you went out to drop that painting off last week, you’ve been acting funny, mooning around here like some kid of Juliette missing her Romeo…and speaking of your face! Lillie, darling, what happened? You look like you were just kicked by a mule! Do you have ANY foundation on? Oh, wait, is that another Beaumont painting? Okay, you’re forgiven. Let me see!”

Naw, poo, it was Mr. Perky Pants. Truss her up and stick her in the oven; this was going to be a long day.

“You really don’t want to,” Lillie sighed, moving for the hidden catch.

From behind her, she heard Tyson sigh. “Another one of those, huh? What does that make it? Almost ten, now? Baby, what’s going on with you?”

Shrugging, Lillie didn’t protest as her partner took the painting from her. Leaning against the doorway, she called down, “Believe me when I say that I don’t even know what’s going on with me. But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s probably just a phase…or sexual frustration.”

A laugh sounded from downstairs, and she grinned in response. “All I ask is that you don’t worry…and please, for all that’s holy, don’t call Pat. Or Joe. Or Nicky. If you love me, please don’t call any of my brothers.”

She grimaced at the thought of her brothers descending on the Quarter upon hearing of her reoccurring nightmares. Like the overprotective older siblings that they were, they would all swarm over from their homes in the distant corners of Louisiana, take up all the empty space in her house and bicker over how they should help her. Pat, the eldest and the seasoned cop of the group, would demand that she see a psychiatrist. Joe and Nicky, both construction contractors, would argue that shrinks are for nuts. Tommy would demand to see her paintings, then agree with Pat about the psychiatrist thing…and Bobby would just sit in the living room, eating all of her Skittles while watching cartoons.

No, she really didn’t need her family involved in all of this. She loved them dearly, but…something told her that they’d be more of a hindrance than a help.

She turned toward the soft clacking of heels on the stairs, as Tyson slowly huffed and puffed his way to the main floor. In his mid-30’s, the man was skinny as a toothpick and as giddy as a ten year old girl. But, give him physical labor of any kind, as he was dying. Hiding a smirk, she moved over to her desk, content to bury herself in work until her brain calmed down.

Shifting through papers, she did her best to force her attention on sales reciepts and bills. She needed facts, figures; tangible information that her mind could go through, in order to anchor her to reality. But...when she thought of 'anchor?' Something to keep her from falling into that big, wide void of utter hysteria? Only one person came to mind.

Darnnit, she realy was acting like a Juliette. The realization should have made her embarassed, irritated...but none of that stopped her from turning her face toward the door, waiting for that telltale ring of the entrance bell.

[Kyle Aodhagán †]

Kyle was brooding over whether or not he should return to the little art gallery and to the woman who had left a mark on his mind like a tattoo, and so the weather mirrored his mood; dark grey menacing skies ready to burst open at any minute to release the moisture confined within. Low thunder rumbled overhead like the angels might be rearranging furniture in their cloud homes or perhaps sharing in a game of baseball with hail as the orb being pitched and lightening bolts as the baton with which to knock the ball across the heavens.
Tucked underneath his solid arm and wrapped in brown paper to keep curious gazes from seeing it as much as to protect the brilliant work of art that had bled from -her- fingers, the prophetic image had never left the dragon since the night he had taken it from Lillie.

The first thing he had done was taken the painting to the council that evening. If the human’s visions were as true as he believed them to be, the war among the other realmers was not going to trickle out into the human world, but crash into it like a violent tsunami.
Though he had always been reluctant to take the seat with the council that he had gained through age and lineage, he had felt it was his obligation to bring this information to light. It was after all the duty of every single councilmember to protect the human world from those that would break the Other World laws, which included passing through the portals without proper sanction, and Kyle knew those involved with the witch would most likely not have proper consent.

Since his meeting with the assembly the human’s visions hadn’t come to complete fruition, but the dragon had certainly seen an elevated influx of lower level demons and other creatures that didn’t belong in this world.

His first inkling had been the group of blood thirsty and bumbling demons that he’d come across in New Orleans proper. The devils had been causing a chaos in the French Corner and many tourists had fallen victim to their bloody spree because they had thought it some kind of elaborate demonstration. Thank the Fates that Kyle had been able to send them all to the Underworld before too many of the locals had gotten wind. The last thing they needed was a city in panic and news stories all over the television.

A few days after the demons there had been the unfortunate occurrence with the unicorn. Kyle had gotten wind of the incident too late unaware until he had seen the newspaper with a front page header that read; ‘Circus act or the real thing?’
Regrettably the naive beast had wandered through the portal somehow and was captured by a local man. The old man had first believed the creature was an escaped circus act, but after the unicorn had gotten frightened and taken out one side of his house with magic, the male had immediately gone to the papers.

There were others still.
Not too many, but enough that Kyle was adamant that the council should stay aware of what was happening.

There was something else that was bothering Kyle. Something besides the notion of coming war that confused and disturbed him.
Ever since leaving the fragile prophetic human, thoughts of her touch had consumed the dragon. The need to watch over and protect her had become more of a charge than even keeping the wicked monsters at bay.
And so, there were a few nights Kyle had done just that; spending nightfall until dawn on the roof of the building across from the little home just next door from the gallery; watching and waiting for any sign of trouble or danger.

It had driven the shifter to the point of anger on more than one occasion. There were a handful of times Kyle almost charged over to the gallery and demanded to know what kind of spell she had placed on him. Perhaps she was no prophet. Maybe she was a witch in disguise and this had all been a game to get to the council.

The dragon had not gotten that far. Half way across the street he had paused; reminding himself that if it had not been for the human, they might not have ever found out who was to blame for the recent invasion of other worlders. It wasn’t her fault that her touch had seared him, and he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her...

When he looked up Kyle realized he’d been walking blindly and that his feet had lead him to the gallery. Cursing the Fates, the dragon drew in a heavy breath and pushed his way inside, wincing at the sound of the twinkling chimes from the bell above the door.

A male with a feminine lilt to his voice greeted Kyle, but the dragon ignored him, following the familiar scent of strawberries and oil paint to an office on the upper floor.
The womanly male followed him up the stairs, his voice becoming a high pitched squeal as he argued that this wasn’t a public area. Still, the dragon paid him no attention as he came to the door where the intoxicating aroma was the strongest. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, but Tyson caught him by the arm to stop the intrusion. With a fierce snarl Kyle turned on the skinny man; content to bite his head off his neck like it was an afternoon snack.

[Lillie Galleau]

Sitting behind the wide oak desk that her brother had carved for her during for the Gallery’s opening, Lillie resisted the urge to start banging her head against the smooth surface. She had so much work to do; sales receipts to sift through, some letters to reply to, research to do on a recent buyer interested in a few of her pieces. She never sold a painting to anyone she didn’t have some kind of information on, and now that the supposedly very rich ‘Mr. Travers’ wanted to buy one of her favorites? Definitely had to do some Googling, and soon.

Yet, there she was, resting her chin in the palm of her hand while she stared at the darkness in front of her.

Great, she really was acting like a Juliette. Sure, she didn’t have a tower, a warring family- wait, scratch that, her brothers probably counted in some ways- and a broken heart…but she was definitely mooning. Man, she hated it when Tyson was right.

But really now, why the heck couldn’t she focus on work? If anything, the things that she should be mentally obsessing over are those monster-dreams she’d been having nonstop that week. She’d seen things with ten heads, building-sized insects, beasts with blood red eyes and acid-drool; beings that she couldn’t help but feel were coming. And soon.

She should be panicking, writing up a will, digging some kind of underground fall out shelter for the imminent end of the world…and yet, there she was, staring off into space like a bored teenager.

All because of one man who, in the span of one night, made her feel safer than she ever had before.

With a little sigh, she stood up from her desk and wandered over to the windows that lined her little office. Only she and Tyson were allowed in the re-furnished closet, and as such, it sported an array of decorations. A fan of anything colorful, her partner liked to throw random throw pillows over his favorite tiny red loveseat. Her desk was pushed up against the wall next to the door, and behind it, as if ready to swallow the oak table in front of any who sat there, was an arching depiction of a fairy filled forest.

She tilted her head slightly as she caught the telltale signs of the front bell chiming. Ah, another customer to add to her research list. Tyson was definitely going to have too much ammo to use against her, if she didn’t get her work done soon. Before she could get back to her desk, however, her partner’s panicked voice filtered through the thin wood of the office door. Frowning, she turned and made her way toward it, but before she could stick her head out into the hall, someone did the job for her.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there! This is an Employees Only area, and…AAACK! HE’S GOT ME! LILLIE, CALL THE POLICE!”

Confused, she immediately reached for the cell phone at her waist, a surprised exclamation bursting from her. What was going on? Were they being robbed? Was it that pushy art dealer from last week who had demanded to visit Rachel Beaumont personally? Was it one of her brother’s many ex-paramours looking for the little Tom’s latest location?

…Wait, wait, hold the literal and metaphorical phone. A growl sounded, irritated and dangerous, practically causing the air around them to vibrate with its power.
That growl…she knew that growl.

“Kyle? Is that you?” Dropping her cell phone onto the table as she hurried past, she held out a hand, a wide smile appearing on her face as questing fingers met the familiar hardness of his side. Moving closer, she let her hand trail up from his side, to the arm holding a gurgling Tyson hostage. Her voice held a hint of amusement as she tapped his forearm. “Um, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill my co-manager. He might be a bit annoying, but it would take me months to train a replacement.”

An impish smile crossed onto her face at the answering squawk from her partner’s direction. She tugged at the dragon’s arm, urging him to abandon the frightened man in front of him in favor for the flower-scented confines of her office. Absently, she couldn’t help but wonder at her lack of fear. A sound like the one he’d just made would make even the most stalwart soldier pause and consider how much he loved his wife; not to mention make the gold-hearted man behind them want to pee himself. And yet, there she was, tugging on his arm like he was some kind of fluffy bunny rabbit.

Her brothers always liked to say that she had no common sense. Maybe this was proof.

Nevertheless, Lillie continued to tug at him until he moved away from Tyson and into her office. When that was accomplished, she proceeded to drive home her brothers’ point; a happy smile slid onto her lips and, with a ‘HELLO!’, she proceeded to slide her arms around his waist and hug the daylights out of him.

Well, attempt to hug the daylights out of him, that is. Whoof, this guy was built like a stone statue, wasn’t he? All muscle, and…nicely sized in all the right places. Dangit, there went her libido again. Shut up, Lillie the Wonder Slut.

“You came back!” She said, pulling back from him after a minute. She had to remember that he didn’t seem to like to be touched…not that it would stop her. She just had the undeniable urge to…comfort him, for some odd reason. Call it womanly intuition, but…well, there it was.

Tilting her head toward the door, where she could practically hear Tyson’s heart hammering with leftover adrenaline, she shook her head. “It’s alright, Tys, he’s a friend of mine. Tyson, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is my co-manager, Tyson Miller.”

“Yeah…you could warn me about your…friend next time, Lil. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I THINK I JUST HAD A HEART ATTACK.”

With a little shake of her head, Lillie reached out to pat her partner’s shoulder. “Sweetie, if you had a heart attack, you’d be passed out on the floor. Now, please don’t curse; it might be offensive to other people.”

With a grumbly sigh, she heard Tyson move toward the doorway. “Yes, ma. Next time, I’m gonna let you answer the door when it chimes. Ciao, babes!”

As her partner’s footsteps faded away, she turned her attention back to the dragon, a wide smile on her face. Before she could say anything else, however, a soft whisper in the back of her mind had her hands reaching out for her painting. And with that, the memory of their parting came swooshing into her head.

Oh yeah, her visions, the end of the world and people who might want to see her killed for the things she’d ‘seen.’ Yeah, let’s get back to THAT conversation.

Shifting slightly where she stood, she tilted her face up toward him, one hand coming up to push her sunglasses higher up onto her nose.
“You talked to…whoever you needed to talk to about the painting? What happened?”

[Kyle Aodhagán †]

Ah yes. Kyle had the urge to squeeze the human’s head between his fingers like a grape. You didn’t grab a dragon’s arm and expect to walk away with said arm. The frail flailing man was even enough to distract him from the reason for his visit; as Lillie poked her head out and then immediately retreated back into the small but eclectically adorned office.
The shifter shook the scrawny male a little; though he wore no expression on his face that would reveal the annoyance that simmered inside him. Humans were too bold these days. Some, like the prophet he desired to see, had a natural survival instinct, but most didn’t know a threat even when it was looking them in the face.

And then he heard that unfathomable saccharine voice. It sang his name and an unexpected surge of repentance coursed through the dragon, so he instantly loosened the hold on the man’s arm. That sizzle of power flowed through her light fingers as they met his side and it followed the trail of her touch as it lifted to his bicep. Kyle’s brow furrowed as his sapphire eyes stared down at the hand; bewildered by the docile calm that had suddenly overtaken the aggravation.

It was as if the little female held more power in those hands than even the shifter. She barely had to tug on his arm and the hold Kyle had on the male was broken. Suddenly, he was swept into the lily scented office. Yes, amazingly enough the little room smelled like the delicate flowers the woman was so aptly named for. Divine, delicate, complete in their perfection; Kyle couldn’t help but take in a heavy lungful of air as the intoxicating aroma enveloped him like a genteel blanket. It was....nice.

Mystified by the smile that graced the woman’s face, Kyle couldn’t help the uncertainty that had taken up residence within him. That smile...it didn’t seem possible, but the female actually looked pleased to see him.
He couldn’t believe it until the point was driven home when her frail arms came around his waist and the dragon was frozen were he stood.
Just like the last time, the man who loathed to be touched softened at her embrace. He found his own arms winding around her as the breath left him in a contented sigh.
Captivated, as well as thoroughly bewildered, the dragon gave in to the aberrant pleasure it brought him as he held her tightly against his body.

And then came the sudden void of her softness as Lillie pulled away to introduce him to the man he had almost throttled. A glower came to Kyle’s face when he looked upon the reason for the absence; but it melted quickly as he watched the friendly exchange between the two. The shifter could feel a tangible bond between the man and the woman, and for that, he lost all desire the strangle this Tyson.

“Next time think before you lay hands on a stranger.” Kyle answered throatily in return to the introduction, and his hand came up to rub absently at the back of his head. “If you want to keep those hands...” he added inaudibly.

And then the male was gone and once again the air was filled with a peace that the dragon could taste as nectar on the back of his tongue. Lillie’s smile shone like the sun; which, amazingly enough had begun to fill the sky as the clouds and thunder departed like wanted criminals.

The delicate hand reached for the painting which Kyle allowed her to take from him; his eyes trained on the glasses that slipped down her flawless nose. He had the urge to quietly remove those glasses, so he could better see the opalescent orbs that had so transfixed him before. The urge was fleeting; his attention redirected as the female inquired over the result of his visit to the council.

“Just as I expected... the assembly was moved by the painting, but not completely convinced.” He answered stoically, suddenly moved by the concern that he heard in her lilting voice. It occurred to the dragon that had it not been for him and Marius, Lillie would still be able to live her life without fear of the monsters she had always thought to be fairytale.
How unfair it was of them to cause such upheaval. From now on she would constantly have her head on the swivel, listening for the tell-tale clack of demon claws on the pavement.

Kyle lightly took her elbow, guiding the woman to the crimson colored loveseat across the room so that he could fall into the comfortable cushion beside her. “They’ve been made aware, and since, we have noticed a flood of otherworldly activity.” He went on to explain. “You see, there are rules in that world just as there are this one. The creatures you see in your dreams are not allowed to pass through to this realm unless given proper authority. Some how, and because of this painting we know why, some of these beasts have made their way through. It is my job, as well as others, to keep these creatures from harming humans.”

[Lillie Galleau]

Okay, so it probably wasn’t a real good sign for her intelligence that her mind was repeating something along the lines of ‘waba-waba-waba’ as he spoke about the Council. When she’d gone over to give the disappearing shifter a welcoming hug, she’d remembered the outcome of her previous attempts. He’d gone washboard stiff, moved away from her, uttered one of those very tingle-inspiring growls…

But this time, he’d hugged her back. Right there, for the amount of time it took her brain to realize what was going on- that, holy guacamole, the pressure around her shoulders were the warm bands of his arms holding her secure against his chest- he’d gone and hugged her back.

A sharp wind could have blown her over at that moment. Did this mean that she was growing on the growly shifter? Ooh, if the thought didn’t make her lips want to curl up until she looked like a demented Cheshire Cat. She was growing on him…did that mean he liked her?

Darn. And now she sounded like she was fourteen again, in her awkward phase and wondering if the football quarterback thought she was cute.
But hell, go bite the big one, you sense of cynicism! He hugged her back!

AND HOLY GUAC, WHY’D SHE LET HIM GO?! She really did hate herself, sometimes. Would it look weird if she suddenly launched herself at his chest again? Dang, it probably would. He might be a ridiculously sexy animal tamer, but she was no furry monkey.

As she was led over to the colorful loveseat, Lillie resisted the urge to abuse her head on the armrest. He’d held her, so gently, as if he’d felt as peaceful as she had at the brief touch…and she’d gone and let him go. Man, her instincts were really getting rusty.

But heck, back to the matter at hand. She’d just file the regret away for later hawing, focus on the information he was giving her…and proceed to remember the feat for later. Maybe if she gave it a few minutes, she could fling herself at him without being compared to an orangutan.

Absently, she placed the painting down against her leg, fingers trailing over the paper covering. It was strange, but now that the piece was back in her possession, she felt…better. More grounded. How odd…she hated to remember most of them; was in loathe to even think about the images she’d captured during one of her more sleepless nights. And yet, now that it was back in the Gallery, it was like a missing piece had been found and put back into her puzzle.

Strange…and oddly fitting. Not only was she reverting back to her 14 year old self and becoming addicted with the idea of getting another hug, but now she was becoming obsessive compulsive with her paintings. Oh, huzzah.

“Seems like most of our human politicians,” She remarked dryly. Man, his voice was like a magnet. Almost unconsciously, she found herself shifting closer to him, until the heat of his body warmed her side. Ah, much better. “They only react after the fact, never before. Because nothing like monsters running rampant in New Orleans can ever happen. Oh noooo…”

With a shake of her head, she slid the sunglasses off of her face and folded them into her lap, absently rubbing at her shadowed eyes. Darn, maybe she should have put on some foundation that morning; she probably looked like a raccoon with an insomnia problem. Nah well, he’d seen her eyes before and hadn’t complained. Welcome to the Real Lillie; U’s, wrinkles and all.

Confused, her brows furrowed. “But if that’s true, that you and your friends guard these ‘Doorways’- and I’m sure that you do a fantastic job, given that we’re all still alive and not eaten- how are the monsters breaking through? Is someone who’s supposed to be guarding them gone over to the Dark Side? And if there are more coming into our world, why hasn’t the ‘Council’ thingy done anything about it?”

What, did New Orleans need to be hit by a nuclear explosion to get some action? Yeesh, the guys really were like the politicians of her world. But then, an idea hit her, and she sat straight with a little snap of her fingers. How could they gain the upper hand in all of this?
Why, know what’s going to happen, of course.

“Kyle, while you were gone, I went to the Tulane art department to get a key for the storage room that holds all of my other paintings. Maybe there’s something in there that we can use? I don’t remember much of my dreams after I’ve put them to canvas, but maybe there’s something there…something more future-related than the things I already showed you. The ones in Tulane are…um…not nice. But, instead of destroying them like Tyson and my brothers wanted me to, I just felt the need to keep them. As if they could serve a purpose.”

She was getting animated in her excitement now. Something in her gut told her that her paintings could help, and help they would. She’d lived quite ignorantly off of the people she’d painted, not knowing that they were real. What better way to give back, than to make sure monsters didn’t eat the planet?

Hopping up out of the seat with a determined look on her face, she hurried over to her desk, rummaging around the paper-filled surface. With a ‘ya-ha!’, she snagged a set of small silver keys and brought them back to where he sat.

“I had a feeling that, when you came back, you might want to look at them,” She said, perching back on the little couch next to him. Reaching out, she sought his hand and slid her fingers around his. “Something important is going to happen, I can feel it. Maybe one of my paintings can give us a clue as to what it is. And, before you start questioning it…yes, I did say ‘us.’ So, now that that’s covered…let’s get going! Professor Dubois said he’d keep the doors open for me until dark for the week, and I the really nice security guard who works weekdays said he’d expect me. Tyson can handle the Gallery.”

That said, she hopped up again, looking like a smiling Jack-in-the-box, and moved toward the office door, dress flapping in the wind. She’d take Kyle over to the college, take a peek at what those disturbing images could show her—

And walk right smack into the eavesdropping Tyson. With a squawk, she grabbed hold of the now loudly protesting manager’s ear and hauled him toward the stairs. “You Peeping Tom! What the heck, Tys? Eavesdropping…oh, OH, you better not be looking to call Pat! I swear, Tyson Miller, if my brothers show up on my doorstep tomorrow, I’m going to tell everyone about your little ‘escapade’ with Nicole during Mardi Gras!”

“OW, OW, LILLIE! That’s attached, you know! Alright, alright…not like I heard anything other than your taking that Kyle dude over to Tulane. Oh, and by the way…is it ‘Kyle,’ or ‘Romeo?’”

With another unhappy noise, the gallery owner proceeded to send her employee scuttling down the stairs with a sandal mark on his butt.

Fluffing her hair and brushing some invisible dirt off of her dress, she turned back to the room- where Kyle was no doubt standing, hopefully not wearing a horrified look- with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Um…so, about Tulane. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? After we check out what Armageddon looks like, maybe I can make you some dinner?”

[Kyle Aodhagán †]

Kyle's gaze traveled to the paper covered painting that was settled nonchalantly against Lillie’s leg. It seemed so nonthreatening; just another work of art wrapped and ready to be carted off and hung over some unsuspecting human’s fireplace.
The thought made the shifter glower. In his mind’s eye he could see the sorceress’ fine cheek bones and the malicious grin that curved up her lips; her dark hair flowing out like a shadow behind her, and the army of minions at her feet snarling and dripping saliva from their ragged fanged jaws. A heavy crease knotted Kyle’s brow, and his cerulean eyes narrowed in irritation. It was just paint on canvas, but to him it was an infection; a disease that might very well seep though the paper coating and contaminate Lillie’s soft white skin where it touched.

The dragon shifted sideways so that his knees brushed Lillie’s and he deftly slid the painting aside so that it rested against the corner of the loveseat. Now that the disease in the form of the portrait was moved, the shifter centered his attention on the woman before him; the sudden thought of their close proximity disquieting, but oddly soothing at the same time. In the short time since he’d left her that night, Kyle was left to wonder at the incongruous sensations that were occurring within him.
In the first time in decades his dreams were quiet, not the violent blood spattered nightmares he was used to; and the contorted face of his wife had not made an appearance. Whereas usually he felt a stifling emptiness inside, there was a spark; the faintest ember of a fire deep within his soul.
It was unsettling, but not altogether dreadful.

A mirthless laugh curved up the corners of Lillie’s mouth as she spoke of human politicians, and Kyle found he could not tear his gaze away from it. Even as her body seemed to drift closer until her shoulders swept against side, Kyle could not recoil, though it was his first instinct to do so.

She removed her dark glasses and only then did the dragon’s stare lift from her mouth; his gem blue eyes traveling over the soft planes of her face and coming to rest on her closed lids. Like before, he silently implored that she open them so he could look into those milky orbs; so pale and glowing as the moon.
She was without the paint that was so common on the faces of woman today; but ever more breath-taking for it. Even the faint signs of lack of sleep underneath them added to the delicateness of her face, and finally Kyle tore his attention away from it lest he forget his purpose there.

Her inquiry about the council did well to divert his attention, and the shifter found himself staring at the covered canvas again before shaking his head in negation.
“We’re not certain how it is being done, but because of your painting we have a good idea who is to blame.” Kyle answered gravely. “It is the visage of the witch that has made appearance in your work before, the same one who had me in chains centuries past, though by what means she is accomplishing it we are unsure. Your line of reasoning that she might have help from someone meant to protect the portals is a good one, and a point that was breached at the council meeting. As of yet we’ve found no conspirator.”

Kyle stiffened at her sudden bolt upright and the snap of her fingers.
He listened intently as she confessed her revisit of the most gruesome of depictions; flinching when she leapt up to rummage around her desk for some unknown item.

When she returned with the smell silver keys the dragon froze as her hand found his; small gentle fingers winding their way around his thick rough ones.
That familiar electricity shocked him; and he found himself marveling at the etched lines within the pale palm; the story of her life.

He lightly gasped when her fingers disappeared, and he growled when she leapt up to inform him of her intention to assist him in his pursuit; bolting up and quickly following her to the door.
Her exit was blocked by the feminine male from before; which gave Kyle the opportunity to slip around her so that his stalwartly form obstructed the door.
The dragon was momentarily distracted by her timid invitation, but he shook his head even though she could not see the gesture of negation, his face a visage of displeasure.

“Lillie, what you intend is madness, and an invitation of danger to you that I cannot allow.” Kyle crossed his arms over his chest in an act of defiance; an immoveable wall of flesh and muscle that would not be budged.
“Call this Professor and let him know that an associate will take your place this visit, and I will make arrangements for a location where you may retreat to keep out of sight. I’m sure you understand that such a visionary gift could be grave if it falls into the wrong hands, an occurrence I will not allow to happen.”

And I would not see you hurt... Was the echo that resonated inside his mind, but he would not voice such sentiments.

“After I’ve been given access to the paintings and take some knowledge away from them, perhaps then a repast would be...fitting.” he added a bit awkwardly. Imagine the big powerful dragon kicking at the dirt on the ground.

[Lillie Galleau]

Still chattering happily, Lillie moved back toward the door, and proceeded to walk face-first into a very wide expanse of yummy chest. Holy guacamole, the guy could move fast when he wanted to. A part of her wanted to stay right where she was; so close to that comfortable warmth that practically seeped out of him. It was like…standing next to a nice, cozy fire that made a girl want to curl up and sleep the world away. All she’d have to do was put her hand over that wonderfully beating heart, stand on her tiptoes, lean forward and…

Hooboy. Taking a step back from Kyle, she lifted a hand up to fan at her now flushed face as the Lillie the Wonder Slut voice practically yowled for her to kiss him. Ha, like he’d let her kiss him! She was growing on the guy like a good mold, not stampeding him with…with…
Mmm, he’d probably taste as good as he smelled; all manly and with that faint trace of spiciness. Not to mention that more of that wonderful heat would wrap her up, if he slid those iron-like arms around her—

Darn, get a hold of yourself, woman! Her common sense gave her a good mental slap, and for once, she appreciated the annoying little thing’s warning. First off, the dragon was talking, and he was probably saying something very important…so stop it with the ‘wabba, wabba’ and concentrate. Second off, he’d just hugged her back a few minutes ago. Jumping on him and inhaling his face would probably be a bit too Aliens for either of their tastes.

So, still fanning at her face, she focused on his words, tried her best to ignore the silly ‘kiss the guy!’ song that LtWS was singing, and…proceeded to wish that she’d just stood there like a lunatic with a guppy look on her face.

“Wait, what? Did you just tell me that I’m crazy? First rule of thumb when talking to me, buster, is not to call me crazy. I get enough of that on a daily basis,” Her hand immediately went down from cooling her face, resting on her hip as she put on a defensive stance. Her eyes were open and narrow and her head cocked in the Galleau family show of ‘MAKE ME.’

As she continued to listen to his demands, a frown tilted her lips down and she shook her head rhythmically, mentally repeating ‘no’ to every point he’d made. Okay, so he might be right that her little vision-thing would be helpful for some big baddy to have, but heck, it wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Kyle, I’ve been selling most of my ‘vision paintings’ for years now, and nobody’s caught on, or tried to steal me away. Now shouldn’t be any different…unless you went and gave away my life story to your Council people, which I’m sure you didn’t. There is no way in Fantasy-Land that I’m going to any safe house, either. I live here and I’ve got enough friends in this neighborhood that I’d feel completely safe. Especially because you’re here.”

Okay, so she hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud, but…it was true. Even her eldest brother’s presence didn’t make her feel as secure as she did around the growly dragon-man. With a defiant brow raised, she made a show of dangling the keys and, before he could make a grab for them, shoved them into her bra.

Ha, take that, Mr. Growly Dragon. Even if he liked his hugs, he certainly wouldn’t reach down there to get the keys. Trying her best not to let that triumphant smirk show on her face, she lifted her head to face him again.
“I won’t be calling the Professor- who’s name I’m not telling you- and you won’t be going to see those paintings alone. I’m sorry if I might cramp your style, but call me Lillie the Growth, because I’m a part of this, whether you or anybody else likes it or not. Not to mention that the witch who hurt you is involved, so I’m DEFINITELY helping out. Nobody hurts the people I care about without getting their hair ripped out. So, either start digging around my boobs for those keys and mind read the good art department Prof’s name, or stop acting like a barricade and lead me downstairs.”

So there, she thought with a little nod. End of rant. Now, the question was…what the heck was he going to do to her for defying his wishes?

[Kyle Aodhagán †]

Kyle was struck by Lillie’s audacity like a slap across his whiskered face.
There had been hundreds, maybe thousands of more threatening adversaries who’d been shaking in their proverbial boots when faced by the dragon, but this fragile human who smelled of a mouth-watering desert; strawberries and cream to be exact; faced him as if she were Zeus or some other supreme deity.

“I...I didn’t call you crazy...” He grumbled in a gravelly, chided tone of voice. “Just the fact that you seem to care little about self preservation.” He added matter-of-factly, gaining the usual confidence that seemed to have departed him for a moment. “And did you just call me Buster?”
The shifter was glad that she couldn’t see the inexorable smirk that was written over his face at her sardonic attitude and the way she leaned towards him, hands on hips as if she were some formidable monster.
Kyle hated to admit it, and was surprised at his own reaction, but the whole attitude was rather endearing. Curse the Fates, she was always stunning, but ‘angry’ lit a whole different fire to her.

He cleared his throat and tried his damnedest to remove the amused grin lest it give him away, noisily crossing his arms over his massive chest.
“I gave no information about you to my council people,” he started, and then paused when the gist of her latter statement fully seeped in.
She felt safe because -he- was here...

His brow creased and he drew in a heavy sigh, shaking his head as if to silently contradict her declaration. Dear gods what had he gotten himself into? What had he gotten her into? Not only had the human left a tattoo on his soul which drove him to see her; to protect her, but now he had endeared himself to her as well.
The shifter wanted to ague with the woman; to tell her that her protection was none of his concern; that the fortification of the human race was his charge, not her...

But he didn’t believe that. Kyle couldn’t deny the invisible embers that flickered in the air when they moved close to one another; the maddening attraction that he felt even now; when she was being so difficult.
Letting out the weighty breath he’d been holding in while trying to make sense of it, Kyle’s face softened. It was he that was a danger to her. His proximity, especially since the sorceress was involved, would be the cause of any danger to her.

That fact cemented the awareness that after she had shown him all there was to see in the collection, he had to put an end to this madness. There would be no dinner; no more tequila shots, and certainly there would be no more opportunity for Lillie to make the crack in his wall any bigger. He was a warrior and no woman, no matter how charming or beautiful, would make him forget that it was better not to feel than to feel that pain again.

Steeling himself against her endearing tirade, the dragon’s stoic façade dissolved at the sight of Lille pushing the keys down her cleavage.
His jaw went slack and his hands balled into fists; a barrage of sensations hitting him like an emotional cannon.
Kyle’s gaze drifted down to her breasts, and he snapped his mouth shut. Unbidden, a heat he hadn’t felt in decades surged through him, and his body tightened in response. Moisture sprang to his mouth and his gums began to ache where the canines pushed through the pink flesh. Gods he could already taste her soft white skin; a sweet tang at the back of his tongue.Inhaling sharply at the torrent of foreign desires, Kyle let out a frustrated growl and turned to grasp the doorframe; which crumbled under his powerful grip.

If it had not been for the fact that just his mere fingertips had broken the wood there, he would have pounded his head into it as well. Curse the moon what was she doing to him?

Bracing himself before turning back to Lillie, Kyle regained as much composure as his starving body would allow. “Fine.” He told her shortly, defeated, and shifted so that he stood next to her; one hand gently on her elbow to guide her downstairs.
“We’ll go to Tulane, but don’t think this means I’m letting you participate in anything else to do with the witch. Painting the past and future is one thing, but trying to take on an immortal sorceress is a whole different soccer game.”

[Lillie Galleau]

Ah heck, there it was; the silence after the storm. During her tirade, Lillie couldn’t help but notice that, after the slip of ‘yes, I am a fawning teenager and feel very safe- albeit tingly- when you’re around’ the pattern of his breathing changed. These were the times when not being able to read a guy’s expression really sucked the big one, and the fact managed to irritate her even further.

But, going on what she had…yeah, she could practically hear the tires screeching in the shifter’s head. Just a couple hours, some manageable world-shattering- and not in a good way…darnnit- and she’d practically admitted that she wanted him around more often. Maybe he’d take that as a ‘you’re a really cool person and I’d love you to hang around the shop?’ Or in some kind of ‘he-man, me make woman feel protected because me Big Protector?’

Heck, probably not. For one, her luck was never that good and for another, he was a guy. Guys just don’t THINK like she did.

So, time to focus everyone’s attention away from the would-be clinginess- at least, how it might seem in her eyes- and back on the topic at hand. Maybe if she jiggled her boobs around for a bit and the keys made some noise, he’d forget all about the little slip?

And speaking of changing topics…whoof, she might not be able to see the guy’s face, but she could definitely pick out a pant when she heard it. The little common sense voice was chattering on about decorum, that nice girls didn’t make a show of ‘the boys’ unless in an intimate relationship with someone they cared about. But heck, with that sharp inhalation of breath and the feeling of his eyes boring into…certain parts of her? The hairs on her neck jumped up to attention, a blush crept onto her face, certain headlights were definitely turning on, much to her horror…and the Lillie the Wonder Slut Voice- darn thing just would NOT stay quiet around this guy- began bringing out the metaphorical pompoms.

It really was only in movies that the dashing rogue smooshes the damsel up against a wall and kisses the daylights out of her. But sometimes? Man, sometimes, she really wished it really happened.

With a squawked ‘YAR’ when the sounds of wood splintering reached her, Lillie practically sputtered as he led her toward the stairs. Had she just angered him so much that he broke something off of the wall? Great, wonderful, Lillie; become a warped squirrel and make her sexy-voiced dragon guy pissy. Just what she’d wanted to accomplish today.

“What the heck did you just do to my doorframe?” She couldn’t help but yelp, hands reaching out to find the crushed wood. “Holy guacamole, you’re freaking strong! Okay, note to self: do not get you angry. Sorry…wait, no, I’m not sorry. Go swim in that anger until you get all pruney. Just so you know, I do have connections in the ‘otherworld.’ I never believed them before, but now that I do, I have the utmost confidence in them. So don’t go trying to scare me; I have five older brothers and a horde of nieces and nephews. I don’t scare easy…and I’m a great goalie when it comes to soccer. So don’t even think this discussion is over, buster.” Making air quotations as best as she could while maneuvering down the stairs, she just managed to step over one of Tyson’s many pieces of whittled wood. ‘Nobody can resist a rustic carpenter,’ he’d told her once…even though his ‘figures’ normally looked like beaten Potato Men. Or so she’d been told.

Once they reached the bottom step, she moved- albeit reluctantly- away from him, snagging her cane from the coat rack in the back of the room. Sliding her favorite leather jacket over her shoulders, she traded sandals for a pair of boots and clomped back to Kyle.

“Tyson, I’m going out! Watch the Gallery and close up for me, baby? And no giving ‘previews’ to ‘customers’ in my office, or I’ll kick your butt again!”

At the answering bellow of ‘OOH, I’M SO SCARD’ from somewhere in the back kitchenette, Lillie just grinned and made her way toward the door. She didn’t wait for her companion; knew that he’d be following, and given the heavy clomp of his boots, she wasn’t disappointed. Tulane was a short distance away from the shop, and she led him toward the art department with ease, chattering about inconsequential things.

Oh, if only to pretend that they weren’t heading over to look at a few paintings that might signify the end of the world. She wasn’t some kind of ‘prophet,’ he wasn’t half dragon…poo, who was she kidding?

Once they reached the department, she led him down into the basement of the older building. Like most of the museums around the area, it was equipped with state of the art holding areas, air conditioning, temperature and pH gauges and other nicknacks that the professors were convinced their pieces needed. Being the friend of the Department Head, it was only natural that she’d be granted a private space for her ‘extra artwork.’

“Okay, here we are,” She chirped, back into her bubbly mood, now that she was in a familiar area. Turning around, she proceeded to fish around her bra- great idea, Lillie- for the set of keys, then opened the door with a flourish.

And instantly wished she hadn’t. Like a dark wave, the nightmarish images inside seemed to wash over her, whispering visions of death, destruction and pain. Somewhere inside, the evil face of the witch- who would, in her mind, be furthermore known as the Bitch Witch Who Must Die A Horrible Death, or BW for short- lurked, reigning supreme over all the others.

With a frown, she pulled the leather coat closer around her, steeled her spine and walked into the warehouse-sized room.

“I don’t have an organizational system like below the Gallery, but I think the ones we want are near the back. I always felt the need to quarantine them. While we look, can you explain to me what happens from here? When you see my paintings of the evil sorceress-witch-lady…what then? Does your Council actually get up off of their collective butts and do something? ‘Cause I’ll happily display the paintings for them, if it’ll help.”

[Kyle Aodhagán †]

Kyle held firmly onto Lillie’s arm, but not so tightly as to hurt her or bruise the skin. He kept his breath held in and only allowed himself small brief gasps; so not to take in anymore of the thoroughly intoxicating aroma of her hair and the soapy clean smell on her skin. He tried to keep a little distance between their bodies; for fear that any slight touch of her hip against his would send him into a frenzy. God he hadn’t felt so animal in ages.
It unnerved him what she’d confessed; that she had connections in the ‘other world’, though that consideration was at least enough to distract him from the stimulating jolts that passed through her skin and into his fingertips as he led her down the stairs.

At the bottom when Lillie pulled free of him, Kyle visibly shuddered, sagging against the banister while the human retrieved her coat and changed shoes. He rubbed a weary hand over his forehead and then back through his short hair; using the distance to breathe heavily of the Lillie-less air.
The scene upstairs had been unsettling; to know that even though he hadn’t felt it in all these years, that hunger was still there. And to know that the most guiltless of acts could rouse it was even more uncomforting; Kyle felt a surge of anger and repulsion and shame at himself; for being so fucking weak.

The dragon rose back up to full height when the sound of Lillie’s soft booted footfalls signaled her return, and once again he drew his breath in, delaying another inhalation until they were safety outside in the cool early spring breeze that would carry her aroma away.

The walk to Tulane wasn’t all together uncomfortable. Though Kyle kept quiet most of the time, as was usual for the shifter, he enjoyed the sweet sound of Lillie’s voice and the trivial, but entertaining stories she had to tell.
He learned more about her brothers, her interests in music; many of the things that made the artist who she was. The dragon was fascinated; wanted to know more; to know everything, but he knew getting to know her better would make it even harder to part with her today knowing it would be for the last time.

When they reached the site, the blind human deftly led him to the subterranean room of the older building. The way she moved around the place so easily it was clear to the shifter Lillie had been here more than a few times...which made him worry. Just how many awful depictions of the possible future had come from her hands?
When they stopped at a vault and Lillie announced it was their destination, Kyle forced himself to look away; knowing full well what was coming.
He waited until he heard the tell-tale sound of jingling keys and the rush of air as the catacomb was opened, only then turning back towards her.

Kyle’s brow furrowed at her pause; seeing the look of despair suddenly wash over her cherubic face clued him in to what was waiting. He almost-- almostreached for her arm in consolatory gesture, but decided instead to pinch his lips together and follow in silence.

Lillie indicated that the worst of the pictures were towards the back, and so Kyle swept passed her, into the furthest part of the vault.
Just as he’d feared, the images there were similar to the one of the witch; worse even.
There were depictions of New Orleans, but after a cataclysmic invasion. Corpulent demons with black bat wings fed from lifeless human bodies; a river of crimson flowing through the once lively Bourbon Street.
Another shown an image of the witch amidst an mass of feral dragons; all snarling as they stormed into the human world through large gaping holes.

Still others depicted other places in the world, all with the same outcome; Paris in flames, the beaches of Fiji lined with dead bloated human bodies, and so on and so on.

Kyle couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. His heart hammered as if it would burst through his chest; the alarm was so great.

Only the sound of Lillie’s beguiling voice broke him from the horrified trance.
He ran a hand over his mouth, noting easy going, but somewhat disturbed expression written on her face. He couldn’t let on to how bad it really was; though he was sure she remembered every bloody detail of each painting.

“The council has already gotten off their collective butts, Lillie.” Kyle answered a bit absently and then cleared his throat so not to give away his distress. “The fact that you are unaware just how many other worlders have gained entrance into your world is a testimony to that.”

He sighed and set down the painting which he held in his hand, frowning at the way his fingers trembled and a trickle of moisture had gathered at his temple. Oh this was bad. This was really, really bad.

“If these are really visions of the future, they will help us to know where to direct the sentry. Using these pictures as guides, we’ll be able to determine the locations of the portal openings, and stop the creatures that try to break through. Perhaps we have already won this war, thanks to you Lillie. That in and of itself is enough ‘help’for now. From here we will try to catch the sorceress, to find out the reason for her foray. She is an old and potent spell caster, and that type of capture is best left to those that have more practice than a...human artist.

The latter statement was not said in a derogatory way, but held a touch of reverence towards her bravery. The dragon moved slowly back towards her; unable to keep from reaching out to brush a strand of fallen russet hair from her cheek.
“You’ve not only helped your people in doing this Lillie, but me as well.” Kyle told her quietly; stiffly drawing back his hand. “If we are able to catch the witch, I may be able to obtain information about my son...after all this time...

[Lillie Galleau]

Whoof, there was a shutdown. Alright, note to self: don’t bad talk the Council, because Kyle was obviously a fan. And it was true: if she didn’t have the annoying ability to paint the future, she’d have no idea about what was going on with different worlds and their many monsters. Obviously, the Big Kahunas in their squishy leather seats were doing a reasonably good job.

…Then again, if they deserved such appreciation, why did she keep on seeing the end of the world? Not to mention how they could have let a backstabbing, cheating SOB who liked to let the crazies through the portal-holes into their midst. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing that everyone had their failings. Sometimes, the monsters weren’t so very obvious with their evil nature. Sometimes, they were as nice and picturesque as everyone else.

Man, what a heartening thought. She should SO write some kind of optimistic self-help guide. Yeesh.

As Kyle rummaged through the paintings in the back, Lillie wandered down the aisle after him. Slowly, she ran her hands over the paintings as she passed, giving the shifter enough time to come to terms with the images, and answer her questions. Each time her fingers touched a glass case or the rough paint of a painting, she saw the image in her mind. Blood, gore, terror, death. She used to think that she was a manic depressive, with the direction her dreams had taken. When she’d lived with her brothers, waking up at all hours screaming bloody murder at the nightmares she’d been forced to ‘see,’ they’d thought she was crazy. They loved her, sure, and stood by her through everything…but she knew deep down that they felt uneasy with her gift. They knew that was she did wasn’t natural, wasn’t right. It was only out of loyalty that they didn’t cast her off.

And yet…here came a stranger, strange in his own right, sure, but a stranger nonetheless, who looked at her paintings, at what she could do…and spoke as if she were someone special. As if what she could do actually deserved a note of…God, that really was reverence in his tone.

As he spoke, she paused before the image of a family cowering before the dripping fangs of a snake with four heads and four human faces. She was helping people? She was helping him…helping this ‘Council’ win a war? Her, boring ‘ol Lillie Galleau, little sister to the ‘Crazy Galleau Brothers?’

Wow. And here she’d been, thinking that her greatest contribution to the world were the few peaceful paintings she was allowed to sell. Talk about unexpected.

“I still want to do more,” She protested, turning toward his voice as it got steadily louder. The clomp of his boots against the cement floor seemed to sound in time with her heart. Man, either there was definitely something wrong with her nervous system, or this guy didn’t have to do anything but BREATHE, and she was off like a racehorse.

Shaking her head at the little flutters in her belly, she did her best to keep her voice level. Oh, if only that evil little voice in the back of her head wasn’t informing her that there was no one around in the basement, and if she closed the doors, they’d be locked in the warehouse together. Forget the fact that the thought of jumping the dragon in front of the nightmares she stored there was both terrifying and very inappropriate. And the fact that he’d probably do his disappearing act again.

Or would he? The annoying voice cackled. You can’t see his face, but you can hear how hard he’s breathing. He wants you, you want him; why fight it?

Because she wasn’t Lillie the Wonder Slut, for crying out loud. So shut up, libido. MAN, she couldn’t have been dumped with a huge wart on her butt instead of her overactive sex drive. She would focus on what he was saying, try to think of anything else she could do, save sleeping a lot so she could try to get glimpses of the future—

Oh yeah, and take in a sharp breath as his fingers brushed against her cheek on its way to tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. No, she was not panting…and NO, she was not going to jump his bones! Stop that whispering…and ooh, bad, bad boobies! Turn those headlights off, for crying out loud, before he notices!

Before he could pull his hand fully away, Lillie reached out and caught it in her own. She tried her best not to notice the freaking blasts of heat that exploded in her belly at the mere contact- sheeze, okay, THAT never happened before- and pressed the set of keys into his palm.

“The professor’s name is Dr. Anselment. He’s the head of the Art History Department here at Tulane. I’ll get you his phone number. I won’t be able to reach him until later tonight, but I’ll let him know that a…friend,” Yes, Lillie, ‘friend,’ not ‘my studmuffin.’ “And his associates might be coming in and out. If these paintings can help you and the Council, do what you need to do with them. If I have anymore dreams that have anything to do with the witch, I’ll take them here and you can try to piece together what you need to. If there’s anything else that I can do, tell me, and be I’ll on it like a fly on peanut butter.”

The last was said with a smile as she gave his hand a squeeze. She tilted her head, listening as he spoke again…and froze. A son; she remembered he’d mentioned a son in the Gallery, when he’d mistook her for some kind of enemy. In all of her dreams about his horrifying past, she’d only seen glimpses of the child that was stolen by the witch. Her mouth opened to ask him if he’d ever found any clues to where the evil woman had taken him…then paused.

A little chill crawled up her spine as she slowly turned to look over her shoulder, as if surveying the room behind them. Something familiar, some whisper in the back of her mind had a memory resurfacing. In her dreams, she’d seen monsters, demons, shadows…families torn apart and innocents murdered. She’d seen the end of the world and heard the laughter of the witch…

And met the eyes of a stranger whose face she could never see quite clearly. She’d always wondered about those eyes; wondered about the coldness in them, and the familiarity that they sparked.

Now, she knew why. Ice blue eyes, ethereal, peering into her very soul. They’d been disarming, captivating…
Kyle’s eyes.

With a gasp, Lillie whirled around, tucking his hand into the small of her back and lunged forward, dragging him after her. Good God, why hadn’t she ever noticed it before? Eyes…it was always in the eyes. Mirrors to the soul, and so similar! The shadow and the dragon; always looking out of the canvas and right through her…

“They’re the same. God, I never even noticed, they’re the same. Your eyes and his…” She babbled, couldn’t seem to stop herself. Man, poor Kyle was probably having palpitations at the frantic sound to her voice. Please don’t let him dig in his heels, turning into that wall of solid granite before she could get them to the stack! By the front of the door, to the right, behind the one of the shadows with teeth. There!

Releasing his hand when they reached the little row of paintings near the door, she flipped through the glass cases, each image flashing through her mind. And then, with a low sound of triumph, she pulled out a rolled piece of canvas and immediately sank to the floor, spreading it out in front of her.

Dragons, bloodstained and feral, crouched before the hazy figure of a man who stood atop a hill made of bones. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, and he was clad in black spiked armor. His features were unclear, hazy…but, with a haughty, emotionless shine, a pair of incandescent eyes stared out from the painting to glare at those looking down at him.

“I could never see his face clearly,” She said, running her fingers over the hardened paint. “And he doesn’t show up in the nightmares very often. When he does, he’s in the background. But his eyes…they were always so cold, so…clear. Like they were looking right through me.” Tilting her head up at the dragon, she let her hand hover over the scene. “Like yours did. Whenever I dreamed of him, he was with the witch, or surrounded by...strange-looking dragons...deformed ones, almost. Kyle, I don't know how your kind might age, but...his eyes. They're like yours.”


---
((Aaand…hooboy, no idea where that last part came from, but my fingers went nutso. >< I wasn’t sure what you had in mind for Kyle’s son, or if this was just completely random, but…rawr. If it just sounds uber-stupid and definitely doesn’t fit, I’ll take it out, no worries. That was just my Inner-Lillie wanting to do aaanything to help Kyle out.))

[Kyle Aodhagán †]

Kyle was lost in his thoughts; the plans already forming and playing out in his mind like a horror movie.
The depictions in Lillie’s paintings became living scenes; blood spattered visions that turned the dragon’s crystalline cerulean eyes a stormy gray.
If it hadn’t been for that fearless murmur that made his breath lurch in his throat and his chest to cease even tighter, the shifter probably would have stayed in his mind’s eye for even longer; until he saw the final act; the warriors’ victory over the dark and evil army.
Lillie’s words lingered in the air and resonated in his mind; making his deference for her all the more intense.

The dragon pulled his hand away from her delicate face, frustrated at himself for daring to test his resolve. He knew there would be an ember of consciousness buried deep within him that would stir at the feel of her creamy skin, but he could not fathom leaving her without experiencing the sensation once more. This would be their last encounter if all went as he planned. He would take this knowledge to the council and arrange a guardian for the artist; someone that could watch over her while he went about his familiar existence and the battle that lie ahead them all.

What Kyle didn’t expect was the unyielding way which she held his hand even as he pulled away. The shifters forehead creased in uncertainty as a wave of heat surged through him. A thousand stallions charged through his heart; the pounding so fierce the shifter believed it might break open his chest and escape to freedom.
And his sensitive ears didn’t miss the thump of her heart; nor the rise in her body temperature which increased the tempting smell of her skin.

His eyes were wide as cobalt moons and his mouth parted slightly in surprise, the sound of her soft voice suddenly breaking the momentary trace which her touch had created. The dragon was aware of the cold feel of a small metal object in his palm, which was explained away quickly when the information and intent fell from her cupids bow lips. Kyle nodded firmly and bid his heartbeat to slow as she gave a final squeeze before releasing his hand. He exhaled heavily, unaware that he’d even been holding his breath, and drew a hand across his slightly moistened temple.

That was when Lillie’s aura seemed to shift, and the sensation was like a surge flicker of static that lifted the hair on the dragon’s arms and the back of his neck.
Suddenly they were moving forward; the fragile blind woman drawing Kyle closer to the door.

Was she -that- eager to be free of him?
The thought troubled Kyle, but what distressed him even more was the way it wounded him.

He pushed it from his thoughts as swiftly as it had appeared; his intense blue gaze focused on the woman as she prattled and rummaged through yet another stack of paintings until she found the source of her unease. A heavy feeling of dread settled over the shifter at the understanding of her whispered voice, and a bolt of pain pierced his chest when his stare settled on the portrait spread out on the floor beneath them.

“No…” Kyle murmured; his brow tense and his heart stalled behind his ribcage. The blurry image of the figure seized the dragon as if the painted hands had become corporal and shot out of the canvas to grip his throat.
All this time he had searched for a son; the only living part of his beloved that was left.
All these centuries he had no evidence that the boy lived, but still he traveled the world to seek him out, or at least any knowledge of him.
All of these years he slayed but one thought as it crept into his mind; not the consideration that his son was dead, but that he’d become a minion to the witch that had killed his mother.

It was a blow fiercer than the dragon had received even from the mightiest of foes. His heart wept even as his face took on that usual vacant expression; his blue eyes becoming far-away as if he were already gone.

Kyle reached down to lift Lillie back up to stand with him. His light grip stayed on the delicate curve of her upper arm; his breath falling hot across her lashes.
He cast a fleeting glance down at the nightmarish painting and then met her opal gaze once more; his jaw tight as he found a voice with which to address her.

“Don’t worry Lillie.” He said in a steely brogue; repressing the crack in his voice which might reflect his inner pain. “Those that have caused us pain, or intend to do so, will soon drink deep of their own.”

He swallowed thickly. Her upturned face was like a beseeching seraph’s, and he felt as though he might go insane if he didn’t taste those slightly parted lips before he said goodbye…
“I wish to express my gratitude for all the kindness and aid you have shown.” Kyle’s tone became something of a whisper as he lowered his face closer to hers; her sweet breath making his head swim with a hunger he hadn’t felt in ages. His fingers tightened on her arm just a little as he drew her closer into him.

Intoxicating….too intoxicating….

Kyle felt his fangs erupt from his gums and his pupils lengthened to thin slits in the center of his glowing eyes; anger over powering the desire that willed him to dip his head lower. Before he could brush his mouth across hers he pulled away, releasing his hold on her arm and taking a step back to put distance between them.

“I must have words with the council immediately.” The dragon told her abruptly, slipping past Lillie carefully so not to brush her body lest it draw him back in.

“Again we thank you. I will send word as soon as I’ve heard what the others have to say.”

And like an illusion he was gone, once again leaving the blind woman without a chance to argue with his leave.

[Lillie Galleau]

Good, spicy guacamole, she was just about ready to do some forehead banging right then. How could she have forgotten about that mysterious shadow? Sure, whenever she thought of neon blue eyes, Kyle’s face popped into her head- and boy howdy, did it make her knees start melting- but she’d KNOWN that it was different! Oh, why hadn’t she put two and two together?

She’d have to go through all of her paintings, the ones downstairs included, put together some kind of folder of everything that had something to do with that strange shadow…

With a start, Lillie allowed herself to be pulled upward, surprise practically written on her forehead. The dragon was usually the one on the receiving end of her random touching, not the other way around. Had she done something wrong? Was he angry about the paintings? Good gah, from what he’d done to her door frame, she’d better hope he wasn’t getting pissy! Well, not that her gut would let her think that he’d hurt her, but it was a girl’s prerogative to get a little knee-jerk-anxiety when around a known warrior.

His words, however, knocked all of the initial nervousness right out of her. His promise made a little shiver of anticipation crawl up her spine, and her mouth opened to inform him that he’d better make sure that his butt was safe while doing all that pain-giving, but she never got the chance.

Instead of being able to deliver a would-be sermon to an unwilling flock, she found herself surrounded by the comforting musk of his scent. He had come closer; she could feel the telltale tingles on the back of her neck and feel his warm breath on her cheeks. Her heart kicked itself into some kind of excited jig, and her breath hitched, her body leaning toward him.

He owed her for her help? Did that mean that he was going to kiss her because he felt obligated? Oh, holy guacamole, did he think that she was some kind of psychotic fan-girl and would demand some hot lip action for her services? And, oh yeah, better question: did she care?

HECK NO. Call her a fan-girl, but if his thinking she was some kind of insane teenager got her a kiss from Sexy Voice…yeah, she was willing to have her pride die a horrible death.

Another, less ominous shiver crawled up her spine as his fingers tightened on her arm. Of its own accord, her hand came up to trail her fingers along the stubble-roughened expanse of his jaw. Good God and all the guacamole sauce in the freaking universe, if he didn’t do something soon, she was going to melt into a pile of Lillie scented goo. What was it with guys and their need to stretch out the moment? Anticipation was nice, but really now! Her heart was pounding, her head tilting up, milky eyes half lidded—

And then he was gone. Without the warmth of his body, chills erupted along her arms, and her shaky knees had her stumbling a few steps toward his voice. Her mouth fell open in surprise as his words sank in, and- of freaking course- before she could reply, he was gone.

Oh. No. He. Did. NOT!

“Oh, you really do know how to pick ‘em, Lil. ‘Yes, thank you too, Kyle…for making me a ball of sexual frustration.” She said with a sigh, moving over to the doorway to lean sideways on the jam. With a few mumbles and one particularly unhappy ‘whargh,’ she fanned herself for a few minutes and before shoving off for the department basement. The storage door would lock on its own, and the guard upstairs would make sure that everything was closed up as it should be. So, the only thing left to do was to make the short journey home.

The short…lonely…quiet journey home. Jesumcrow, she WAS sounding like a fan girl! Where was Tyson and his Annoying Voice of Self Hatred when she needed it? She was worse than her nieces, mooning over guys twice their age. Holy guac.

With a laugh, the artist shook her head and made her way up to the street, laughing at her foolishness. After only a day, she was mooning…and heck, even worse, she was actually mooning. As if a guy with Kyle’s background would see her as anything but a means for revenge. The poor man…dragon…Sexy Voice-guy had so many horrible things happen in his life that he probably thought of her as an endearing child. A foot up in the oncoming war.

Yeesh. She really knew how to latch onto the wrong people. With another humorless snort, she forced her mind to return to the present. She would find all of her paintings that included the strange, faceless man and have them delivered to the storage unit. She’d get home, take a hot bath, make herself a nice PB&J while answering her protective brothers’ phone calls…

And she would not, under any circumstances, think about how close he’d been to her back there. As if he were ducking his head to kiss her—
Nah crap, there she went.

“Another sleepless night, here I come,” She muttered, letting herself into the quiet little house behind the Gallery. The street was unusually quiet, and from the lack of movement in the gallery, she figured Tyson must have left early. Leaving her cane and glasses on the table near the door, she walked down the familiar hallway, humming to herself.

A hot bath, a sandwich and a conference call with her brothers. She would forget all about the near-kiss and all the hot tinglies that followed. Then she would sleep, dream, and compile her list tomorrow.

“Actually, my dear, I’m afraid that won’t be happening tonight.” A voice sounded behind her, cutting through the darkness like a knife. A chorded arm snaked around her waist, jerking her backwards until she fell against a hard, musky scented chest. Before she could scream, a hand was placed over her mouth. She struggled, squeeking against the hand, but those iron arms kept her in place. She felt strange…heavy and sleepy. Her arms were getting weaker, and the screams in her throat died away.

Then, there was darkness.

“Ah, my little prophet…” The voice crooned, one elegant hand caressing the still cheek below. “How you are going to make my dreams come true…”