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“Oye, Lorrie, can I borrow that?” a voice wanted to know, rudely interrupting Lorrie’s train of thought.

“Huh?” she replied looking slightly dazed in the direction of the voice. “Yeah sure,” she said handing over the tiny opened but unused canister of paint.

“What’s up with you?” Eric, the owner of the invading voice, wanted to know as he studied Lorrie. The girl could best be described as ‘out of it’ with a far away look on her face, indicating that her mind was anywhere but in the tiny, somewhat stuffy art studio.

“Just thinking,” Lorrie shrugged and turned back to her blank canvas but sighed and instead started thumbing through her sketchbook.

“You might want to get started on that project,” Eric cautioned turning back to his own almost completed painting. It was a simple exercise assigned by their art teacher as a warm up exercise since he guessed they might be rusty due to the semester break.

“I’ll get to it,” Lorrie shrugged pausing to study one drawing before continuing on.

“It’s really not that hard,” Eric said with a shake of his head. “Just pick a drawing and paint it.”

“You can’t force stuff like this,” Lorrie argued back.

“So you say, so you say,” Eric said putting his full concentration back on his painting and Lorrie watched him work. He certainly wasn’t a talented painter, but he wasn’t all that bad at it either. With a bit of training and maybe some focus he could be real decent. But Eric didn’t care about being good, he cared about passing and as long as he managed to do his assignments on time and not fall asleep in class he was guaranteed that. Professor Avalon was very giving with students that weren’t art majors, understanding that many signed up for have an “easy” class for a semester or to fulfill their creative requirement for graduation. That’s what Eric was doing, a junior taking a year of Drawing and Painting One and Two to gain the necessary credentials for graduation and to boost his GPA.

Lorrie was there for an entirely different reason. She wanted to be in an advanced class and although Professor Avalon, also her adviser, said that she had the talent to be in an upper level class he encouraged her to start from the ground up and she’d reluctantly agreed. She did wish she had access to some of the materials and machines the more advanced classes partook in but she would simply buy her time. The school’s art studio was open 24 hours a day, just like Lorrie liked it. What happened if inspiration struck at three A.M and she needed to work? She was certain that her roommate wouldn’t appreciate her turning on the lights and whipping out her paints.

“You’ll be here all night,” Eric suddenly warned again and Lorrie sent him a tired grin.

“I like it here,” she told him as she propped her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands.

“Having trouble with your roommate?” Eric wanted to know glancing over at her and noticed her vacant expression was slowly returning.

“No, nothing like that,” Lorrie assured him. She, in fact, loved her roommate and couldn’t be happier with the pair up. Well of course there were a few bumps here and there but Lorrie had never shared a room in her life and there were some hard adjustments to make.

“You’re lucky then,” Eric told her spinning on his stool to fully face her. “My freshman roommate and I hated each other.”

“What was wrong?” Lorrie wanted to know and turned her attention to him.

“He was a devout Christian and I was far from it,” Eric told her and Lorrie
smiled again.

“A devout Christian and a devout alcoholic living together,” she joked, “now that’s a sitcom waiting to happen.”

“Hey, I’m not an alcoholic,” Eric argued. “Alcoholics go to meetings. I go to pong games.” Lorrie laughed at his joke and Eric grinned and resumed his painting. Eric’s reputation on the tiny campus was somewhat legendary. A star athlete, he knew how to hide his partying habits well from the people that mattered like coaches and administration but the students knew he was the guy to turn to for drunken parties and entertainment. That wasn’t exactly Lorrie’s scene but she’d attended a few of Eric’s parties at his urging the semester before. The two probably never would have been friends, even acquaintances if Eric hadn’t taken the same drawing class as Lorrie in the fall term. An odd friendship had resulted but Lorrie liked it.

“Listen, I’m finishing up for the night,” Eric said and began to clean up his supplies and his area. Lorrie nodded, not really paying attention. “Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” The question was slightly odd and jarred Lorrie slightly. Usually if the two walked together Eric saw her back to her dorm, but mostly because it was on the way to his dorm. He’d never formally asked if she wanted him to walk her bad. Lorrie sent him a speculative look before finally replying.

“No, I’m going to stick around here for a while, see if I can’t get some work done.”

“You sure?” Eric pressed.

“Yeah, why into the escort service all of the sudden?” Lorrie asked and almost blushed when she realized what she said but luckily Eric didn’t seem to take notice.

“Well, you know its dark out,” he shrugged as he paused to replace his brushes, “probably isn’t really safe to be walking around alone.” Lorrie scoffed.

“Cause I’d be such a hot target for a would be mugger,” she said sarcastically. “And in case you haven’t noticed,” she went on, “our school is practically in the boonies. No need to worry about rampant street crime here.”

“Not worried so much about mugging,” Eric said awkwardly, “but what else could happen.” Lorrie was surprised and somewhat touched by his apparent concern. “And you know,” he went on before she could answer, “you would be a target for guys like that.” Lorrie wasn’t sure is she should feel indignant or flattered in some odd way. She chose indignant.

“Um thanks but I can take care of myself in that regard,” she said somewhat moodily. Eric held his hands up in defense.

“Hey, didn’t mean anything by it,” he told her and Lorrie shot him glance before sighing.

“I get it, I’m sorry. Thanks for the offer but I’m going to keep working,” Lorrie told him. “And I’m not alone,” she reminded him as they both paused to hear the whirling hum of the pottery wheel being used upstairs. It had been going when they’d entered after dinner and was still going now. Eric frowned.

“Well you know, I’m sure you can take care of yourself but just be careful ok?” Lorrie nodded in reply.

“Gotcha, nice and safe,” she said with a mock salute as Eric shrugged on his jacket and shook his head at her.

“Well if you change your mind give me or security a call,” he told her, “though security is so freaking slow on this campus you’d probably be better to call me.” Again Lorrie shot him a questioning look but nodded in agreement.

“Alright, good to know, thanks. I’ll call you if I need you,” she promised.

“Good,” Eric smiled, “goodnight.”

“Night,” Lorrie chorused and raised a hand as he walked out the door. Now that had been a bit odd, but she guess it could be expected since two upperclassmen had been jumped just last week as they stumbled home from the bar. Notices went up around campus but Lorrie didn’t pay them any mind, stuff like that never happened to her. Correction, nothing ever happened to her. She’d lived a boring childhood in a suburbia much like the one her college was set in. She’d had friends, done the art scene in high school, played a few sports, and then went off to college. Normal, average, everyday stuff that was pitifully boring compared to the life of adventure she often dreamed about and still entertained every now and again. Her duel major of art and English kept her creative side going full steam and she loved it but she was also restless for other college experiences. Her experience with guys was limited at best; none ever seem to be interested in her for very long if at all. It was annoying to think that a guy liked her and then to find out the next week he was dating someone else.

Lorrie had hoped that college would change that but so far no luck. She wasn’t even privy to the drunken advances her friends seemed to be beating off whenever they entered a bar or a party. Lorrie sighed and flipped to a blank page in her sketchbook and began to absentmindedly doodle. It wasn’t like she wanted to be slobbered over by some drunken jock that didn’t recognize the difference between her and any other girl but it might be nice to be noticed by the opposite sex once and a while.

‘Maybe my standards are too high,’ Lorrie wondered and looked at the sketch she’d hypnotically made as her mind wandered. It was the beginnings of another picture of "him" whoever "he" was. She’d had dreams with a foggy face, at least similar to the one she sketched, for many years now but as far as she knew she’d never met the man she often drew. She drew many things but he often popped up unwillingly from time to time and her grandmother was convinced she was channeling from some unknown being on another plane. It seemed Lorrie’s maternal grandmother had reverted in years as she got older, believing in more and more wild things and what her father called New Age crap. Lorrie didn’t think that was very fair of her father since of the concepts held certain appeals for her but you had to draw a line somewhere. Mystical beings and fantasy worlds were all good fun when your age was still in single digits but not when you were trying to mature in college.

Sighing Lorrie listened to the pottery wheel above her pause momentarily before resuming. She debated with going up to see just who was upstairs but decided against it, not wanting to intrude on anyone’s privacy. And anyway, she had a painting that she needed to at least start tonight. It was due in two days and like Eric had said earlier, it wasn’t that hard. Just pick a drawing from her sketchbook and replicate it in a painting. Sounded simple enough but Lorrie found herself having a hard time. A few hours later, after deciding on a small landscape she’d done over break that included an old well she'd spent days detailing, from a rundown farm in her hometown Lorrie stopped and rolled her shoulders back. She’d made enough progress for now and didn’t want to force anything else out tonight, even if the well did look too oddly misshapen. Her work never came out as well when she forced it compared to when it seemed to just flow from her. As she cleaned Lorrie realized that the pottery wheel above her was still going full tilt and she smiled. Seemed she wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil.

But midnight had come and gone nearly an hour before and Lorrie decided she really should be getting back to the dorm. She was surprised her roommate Allison hadn’t called her to check in but Lorrie predicted she was in the midst of a fight with her boyfriend, again. Lorrie just hoped it wasn’t taking place in their shared room when she got back. Turning the lights to a lower setting Lorrie slipped on her grey pea coat to button up against the cold that accompanied New England winters and slipped out of the old art studio.

The studio was situated in the middle of the short campus but the entrance was in the back of a building that faced a rundown, residential street. To make it back to her dormitory Lorrie needed to walk around the large, ancient, and unfortunately shut down building the studio was attached to. The building was saved from being condemned only because of historical significance to the school and a large remodeling project was underway. Though it probably wouldn’t be completed before her stint at the school was done Lorrie wished it would be so she could cut through instead of being forced to go around. But there was nothing she could do about that now so she set off, intending to cut down the path that ran along the small slopping hill the old building and studio were on. From there she’d simply cut across the street and onto a better lit, more populated part of campus.

A fresh blanket of snow had insulated everything and muffled all sounds leaving Lorrie feeling slightly uneasy. She blamed Eric for putting ideas of muggers and rapists in her head and set off chiding herself for being the least bit nervous. She stopped when she was halfway around the building and whipped around but of course nothing was there. No one was following her; no one was out to get her. Scolding herself again Lorrie hurried on, determined to get out of the cold and into the warmth and security of her bed. Again she was sure she heard a noise behind her, muffled by the snow, but she pressed on not wanting to let her imagination get the better of her. She’s always had an overly active one and tried to blame the noises on that.

‘You’ve also always had a strong sixth sense,’ a voice in her head reminded her, ‘so why aren’t you listening to it now?’

It was a perfectly good question that Lorrie didn’t stop to ponder as she hurried along. She turned the last corner and saw the better lit path stretch out in front of her. Lorrie couldn’t help the bit of relief she felt and decided that she’d press the school for better lighting in the area. No sooner had the thought filtered through her mind then she felt someone grab the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and pull it back hard. For a moment Lorrie hung on spinning around to face whoever was behind her, thinking that it was someone, maybe Eric, trying to scare, but she quickly let go of the bag when the face she stared at belong to a stranger. Lorrie had always figured herself a fighter but if this guy wanted her bag she’d let him have it. She felt a pang at the loss of her original work packed within but the voice of her mother echoed in her head.

‘Things are replaceable, you are not.’

Lorrie turned to run and all but slammed into another body, nearly loosing her footing on the snow slicked path, stopped from falling down by the third body she slammed into and opened her mouth to scream as a hand clamped down over her mouth. Just how many men where there? Her arms were trapped painfully behind her back and for a moment Lorrie froze as the group of five men seemed to loom around her. The feeling of helplessness was fleeting though and she quickly fought back, her mouth biting at the hand over her mouth and that got him to loosen his hold on her hands enough that she could rip herself free. Hoping to surprise the three in front of her Lorrie barreled through but was caught painfully by her loose hair, fallen around her face from her ponytail at some point in time. Swinging her left hand around she hoped to knock whoever had her away but her wrist was caught in a painfully tight grip and wrenched the arm behind her back and for a dizzying moment she was sure something had torn or broken. A wave of nausea broke over her as she was shoved to the ground, barely able to cushion herself with her free hand that scrapped against the stone path beneath her as rock salt bit into the fresh cuts she grimace.

A knee landed in her back holding her down and making it difficult to breath. The hand in her hair tightened painfully and pulled her head back, making her body bend backwards almost unnaturally.

“So you’re Isaac’s bitch huh?” a voice near her ear asked as surprisingly cold breath spilled on her skin. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he added tugging her head back even more.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lorrie managed out though it was hard through the terror and lack of oxygen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please just let me go.”

The man didn’t respond, just released her now numb wrist and pulled her coat roughly away from her neck. Confusion and fear course through her body, fueling adrenaline but her struggles were barely noticed by the four men circled tighter around her and the fifth on top of her. Fear drove a scream as the man holding her brought his free hand up to grasp at the base of her neck, roughly pushing fabric aside, as his head descended towards her. The hand in her hair and locked at the base of her neck held her head in place and as much as she wanted to Lorrie couldn’t manage another scream, seemingly trapped in her worst nightmare where she was unable to do anything to save herself. Clamping her eyes shut, hoping to block whatever this was out Lorrie felt the barest touch of lips on her skin before she collapsed to the ground.

Dazed and confused Lorrie realized she’d been dropped and free of the man’s hold on her. Rolling to her back was difficult do to her still throbbing left shoulder and nearly numb wrist but Lorrie managed in enough time to see a sixth man holding one of her attackers by the throat and squeezing hard. Chaos broke out then as the remaining four descended on the new comer and Lorrie wasn’t sure how but somehow this new man was easily beating back all five. One seemed to realize this and lunged at her, pulling her up like a shield as he gave an unearthly shriek and Lorrie was sure she saw his face changing into a gaunt, grayish shade. Lorrie cried out at the pain he brought out of her injured shoulder but was almost immediately dropped again as the man behind her turned to dust.

She couldn’t believe it as the dust cloud dissipated around her and she look back and saw that there were small piles of dust being taken by the wind where she’d last seen her attackers. And her savior, though she wasn’t sure she could call him that, stood amongst it all looking perfectly fine with it. Lorrie watched with fascination as he sheathed a dagger up his sleeve finally looking down at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a concerned laced voice. He stepped closer and she was able to see that the concern in his voice spread to his eyes. That didn’t mean that Lorrie still wasn’t terrified of him and what had just occurred. “Are you alright,” the man repeated and knelt near her. Lorrie let out an involuntary whimper and shuffled back a few inches feeling the snow soak further into her clothes.

“Who are you? What the hell just happened? Why are they dust?” Lorrie managed out, surprising herself that she was able to find her voice.

“Please, just tell me you are alright,” the man repeated.

“No I’m not alright!” Lorrie shouted in response. “I was just jumped by five men who wanted to do God knows what and were talking crazy and then you show up and they’re suddenly dust!” The man surprised her by smiling.

“I can understand why you are upset and I can explain that all in a moment or two but I have to ask again, are you hurt? Physically hurt?” There was almost a bit of pleading in his tone and his eyes were still sincere but Lorrie wasn’t sure if that meant anything. Still she found herself answering him.

“My hand got scrapped when I fell,” she said slowly, “and my left arm really hurts.” The concern in the man’s eyes deepened and Lorrie held her breath as he came closer.

“What about your neck?” he asked noticing her clothes torn near the collar.

“It hurts a bit,” Lorrie admitted but nothing compared to her still pulsing left arm, “from when they had me by my hair.”

“Did he, did anyone,” the stranger paused heavily, “bite you?”

“Bite me?” Lorrie repeated surprised and the man nodded adamantly. “No, no, I don’t think so,” she said bringing her right hand up and found her neck cold but untouched. She shuddered remembering that lips had touched her there. The man looked relieved and turned his attention to her shoulder that he prodded gently but she still winced at the touch.

“I don’t think thing is permanently damaged,” he sighed in relief, “Isaac would have killed me if that happened. Not that he isn’t going to kill me know.” The man grimaced and moved back from her. Lorrie suddenly remembered hearing that name earlier.

“That man before,” she started to say but the stranger interrupted.

“That was no man Lorrie, maybe at one time...” he trailed off and shook his head almost sadly. Lorrie’s eyes widened with fear and she scrambled to her feet determined to put distance between her and the man.

“You, you, how did you know my name?” she asked horror stricken and the man realize his mistake.

“I’m a friend,” he assured her.

“You’re a stalker,” Lorrie countered with fear fueling her back from him.

“Please Lorrie, let me explain,” he pleaded closing the distance quickly between them.

“No, no just stay away from me,” Lorrie pleaded and suddenly remembered the dagger he’d tucked away. “I’ll scream I swear I’ll scream murder if you come near me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he told her and that made her pause.

“What?”

“I’ve heard you scream before, as a child,” he shook his head at the memories as if they amused him. “You really had a set of lungs one you.” His amusement only made Lorrie feel sicker.

“Dear God,” she mumbled and turned to run and let out a shriek when the man was suddenly in front of her. It simply wasn’t possible.

“Please let me explain to you what is going on,” he said in a patience tone and Lorrie tried to keep her cool.

“Who are you? What are you?” she wanted to know.

“I,” the man said with a dramatic bow, “am Gareth DeLoardes, second in command to Isaac Winnaughten of the West and your personal protector.” Lorrie suddenly realized she had a serious problem. She had a crazy man with apparently supernatural speed talking to her but he’d mention that name again. The same name the attackers had used earlier. The attackers that had somehow turned to dust, oh no, maybe she was the one that was crazy. Swallowing hard Lorrie tried to get some of her senses straight.

“Who is this Isaac?” she found herself asking. “That’s the third time I’ve heard that name tonight.” The man, Gareth, frowned.

“Did that filth mention Isaac?” he asked and Lorrie nodded.

“Called me,” she paused and tried to remember his exact words, “called me ‘Isaac’s bitch’.”

“Don’t let those foul words get to you Lorrie,” Gareth advised and Lorrie adamantly shook her head.

“Stop talking like you know me, who are you? How do you know my name? What did you do to those men?” she asked quickly.

“As I told you before,” Gareth answered, “those creatures were not men, at least not anymore. All I did was merely grant their souls freedom and a chance at everlasting peace, given that they deserved it when they were once men.”

“I don’t understand,” Lorrie said desperately confused.

“It is a complicated matter,” Gareth admitted and then noticed her slight tremble, “and not a discussion for such a time and place. Come we must get you somewhere safe and warm.”

“I don’t,” Lorrie started to protest as he scooped up her bag and suddenly clasped her uninjured shoulder. Any other words were canceled out by the sudden sensation of free falling though she was confident her feet never left the ground. The world seemed to streak past her in a sickening whirl and when it suddenly came to a stop she found herself in the common room of her dorm. She looked around confused and then looked at Gareth for an explanation.

“I, unfortunately, cannot heal you,” he informed her and avoided her unspoken question of how they’d arrived here. “Healing was never a strong suit. I would take you to one of your hospitals but my skills are also lacking in mind numbing large numbers and I don’t want to risk too many questions. I can however offer you this,” he waved his hand and a sling appeared to cradle her injured left arm. Lorrie looked
at for a moment before taking her arm out.

“I don’t want it,” she said suddenly feeling annoyed and exhausted. This was all some nightmare, she just needed to go to bed and she could wake up and it would be over.

“I must insist,” Gareth said gently. “It was made by the Arnons and they are exceptional healers. It will help, at least, to take the pain away.”

“I don’t want it,” she repeated and pressed it back to him. “I don’t want any of this,” she added, “I don’t want to know anything you have to tell me. This is just a bad dream and I’m going to bed to finish it.” With that she turned to leave and nearly shriek again when Gareth appeared in front of her holding her bag.

“You might want this,” he offered and Lorrie took it, slinging it over her uninjured shoulder. “And as much as you might want to deny what happened tonight, unfortunately you can’t.”

“Its going to be pretty easy when I wake up in the morning and find that it really was just a bad dream,” Lorrie insisted again for the sake of her sanity.

“I promise you that I won’t allow anything else to distract me in my protection of you,” Gareth continued on. “I have served you faithfully these past eighteen years but tonight I failed you.” He shook his head as if disgusted with himself and Lorrie couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for him.

“Well you still saved me in the end,” she offered and Gareth gave her a tight smile.

“That won’t matter to Isaac,” he said with a shake of his head and then looked Lorrie hard in the eye. “He’ll be coming soon,” Gareth promised, “probably earlier than intended with these latest developments.”

“What developments?” Lorrie asked. “And who is Isaac?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” Gareth answered smugly and Lorrie scowled.

“You’re right, I don’t” she assured him and side stepped him.

“I will be watching Lorrie,” Gareth promised as she walked past him and Lorrie glanced at him as she pasted, getting her first really good look at him. Gold hair fell with small natural waves to where is was tied back, stopping at his neck. He was handsome in a way Lorrie would admit but not directly to her. Serious brown eyes looked down on her from the few inches of height he had over her small stature. He wore clothes that were perfectly normal for the most part. Though the black dress pants and matching shirt suited him and the tan overcoat gave him an almost dignified air, Gareth seemed out of place in them and she suddenly had an image of him in colonial dress, tri-point hat included. Shaking her head Lorrie continued on.

“I will be watching,” Gareth repeated, “and I will keep you safe so there is nothing to fear in your dreams tonight.”

“Except the one I’m living right now,” Lorrie replied sleepily and Gareth smiled in a way that reminded Lorrie of her older brother.

“Of course,” he said with a tiny nod of his head. Lorrie shook hers and continued on. “Sweet dreams then mistress,” he called after her and Lorrie whirled around to question him but he was already gone

Description
“Oye, Lorrie, can I borrow that?” a voice wanted to know, rudely interrupting Lorrie’s train of thought.

“Huh?” she replied looking slightly dazed in the direction of the voice. “Yeah sure,” she said handing over the tiny opened but unused canister of paint.

“What’s up with you?” Eric, the owner of the invading voice, wanted to know as he studied Lorrie. The girl could best be described as ‘out of it’ with a far away look on her face, indicating that her mind was anywhere but in the tiny, somewhat stuffy art studio.

“Just thinking,” Lorrie shrugged and turned back to her blank canvas but sighed and instead started thumbing through her sketchbook.

“You might want to get started on that project,” Eric cautioned turning back to his own almost completed painting. It was a simple exercise assigned by their art teacher as a warm up exercise since he guessed they might be rusty due to the semester break.

“I’ll get to it,” Lorrie shrugged pausing to study one drawing before continuing on.

“It’s really not that hard,” Eric said with a shake of his head. “Just pick a drawing and paint it.”

“You can’t force stuff like this,” Lorrie argued back.

“So you say, so you say,” Eric said putting his full concentration back on his painting and Lorrie watched him work. He certainly wasn’t a talented painter, but he wasn’t all that bad at it either. With a bit of training and maybe some focus he could be real decent. But Eric didn’t care about being good, he cared about passing and as long as he managed to do his assignments on time and not fall asleep in class he was guaranteed that. Professor Avalon was very giving with students that weren’t art majors, understanding that many signed up for have an “easy” class for a semester or to fulfill their creative requirement for graduation. That’s what Eric was doing, a junior taking a year of Drawing and Painting One and Two to gain the necessary credentials for graduation and to boost his GPA.

Lorrie was there for an entirely different reason. She wanted to be in an advanced class and although Professor Avalon, also her adviser, said that she had the talent to be in an upper level class he encouraged her to start from the ground up and she’d reluctantly agreed. She did wish she had access to some of the materials and machines the more advanced classes partook in but she would simply buy her time. The school’s art studio was open 24 hours a day, just like Lorrie liked it. What happened if inspiration struck at three A.M and she needed to work? She was certain that her roommate wouldn’t appreciate her turning on the lights and whipping out her paints.

“You’ll be here all night,” Eric suddenly warned again and Lorrie sent him a tired grin.

“I like it here,” she told him as she propped her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands.

“Having trouble with your roommate?” Eric wanted to know glancing over at her and noticed her vacant expression was slowly returning.

“No, nothing like that,” Lorrie assured him. She, in fact, loved her roommate and couldn’t be happier with the pair up. Well of course there were a few bumps here and there but Lorrie had never shared a room in her life and there were some hard adjustments to make.

“You’re lucky then,” Eric told her spinning on his stool to fully face her. “My freshman roommate and I hated each other.”

“What was wrong?” Lorrie wanted to know and turned her attention to him.

“He was a devout Christian and I was far from it,” Eric told her and Lorrie
smiled again.

“A devout Christian and a devout alcoholic living together,” she joked, “now that’s a sitcom waiting to happen.”

“Hey, I’m not an alcoholic,” Eric argued. “Alcoholics go to meetings. I go to pong games.” Lorrie laughed at his joke and Eric grinned and resumed his painting. Eric’s reputation on the tiny campus was somewhat legendary. A star athlete, he knew how to hide his partying habits well from the people that mattered like coaches and administration but the students knew he was the guy to turn to for drunken parties and entertainment. That wasn’t exactly Lorrie’s scene but she’d attended a few of Eric’s parties at his urging the semester before. The two probably never would have been friends, even acquaintances if Eric hadn’t taken the same drawing class as Lorrie in the fall term. An odd friendship had resulted but Lorrie liked it.

“Listen, I’m finishing up for the night,” Eric said and began to clean up his supplies and his area. Lorrie nodded, not really paying attention. “Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” The question was slightly odd and jarred Lorrie slightly. Usually if the two walked together Eric saw her back to her dorm, but mostly because it was on the way to his dorm. He’d never formally asked if she wanted him to walk her bad. Lorrie sent him a speculative look before finally replying.

“No, I’m going to stick around here for a while, see if I can’t get some work done.”

“You sure?” Eric pressed.

“Yeah, why into the escort service all of the sudden?” Lorrie asked and almost blushed when she realized what she said but luckily Eric didn’t seem to take notice.

“Well, you know its dark out,” he shrugged as he paused to replace his brushes, “probably isn’t really safe to be walking around alone.” Lorrie scoffed.

“Cause I’d be such a hot target for a would be mugger,” she said sarcastically. “And in case you haven’t noticed,” she went on, “our school is practically in the boonies. No need to worry about rampant street crime here.”

“Not worried so much about mugging,” Eric said awkwardly, “but what else could happen.” Lorrie was surprised and somewhat touched by his apparent concern. “And you know,” he went on before she could answer, “you would be a target for guys like that.” Lorrie wasn’t sure is she should feel indignant or flattered in some odd way. She chose indignant.

“Um thanks but I can take care of myself in that regard,” she said somewhat moodily. Eric held his hands up in defense.

“Hey, didn’t mean anything by it,” he told her and Lorrie shot him glance before sighing.

“I get it, I’m sorry. Thanks for the offer but I’m going to keep working,” Lorrie told him. “And I’m not alone,” she reminded him as they both paused to hear the whirling hum of the pottery wheel being used upstairs. It had been going when they’d entered after dinner and was still going now. Eric frowned.

“Well you know, I’m sure you can take care of yourself but just be careful ok?” Lorrie nodded in reply.

“Gotcha, nice and safe,” she said with a mock salute as Eric shrugged on his jacket and shook his head at her.

“Well if you change your mind give me or security a call,” he told her, “though security is so freaking slow on this campus you’d probably be better to call me.” Again Lorrie shot him a questioning look but nodded in agreement.

“Alright, good to know, thanks. I’ll call you if I need you,” she promised.

“Good,” Eric smiled, “goodnight.”

“Night,” Lorrie chorused and raised a hand as he walked out the door. Now that had been a bit odd, but she guess it could be expected since two upperclassmen had been jumped just last week as they stumbled home from the bar. Notices went up around campus but Lorrie didn’t pay them any mind, stuff like that never happened to her. Correction, nothing ever happened to her. She’d lived a boring childhood in a suburbia much like the one her college was set in. She’d had friends, done the art scene in high school, played a few sports, and then went off to college. Normal, average, everyday stuff that was pitifully boring compared to the life of adventure she often dreamed about and still entertained every now and again. Her duel major of art and English kept her creative side going full steam and she loved it but she was also restless for other college experiences. Her experience with guys was limited at best; none ever seem to be interested in her for very long if at all. It was annoying to think that a guy liked her and then to find out the next week he was dating someone else.

Lorrie had hoped that college would change that but so far no luck. She wasn’t even privy to the drunken advances her friends seemed to be beating off whenever they entered a bar or a party. Lorrie sighed and flipped to a blank page in her sketchbook and began to absentmindedly doodle. It wasn’t like she wanted to be slobbered over by some drunken jock that didn’t recognize the difference between her and any other girl but it might be nice to be noticed by the opposite sex once and a while.

‘Maybe my standards are too high,’ Lorrie wondered and looked at the sketch she’d hypnotically made as her mind wandered. It was the beginnings of another picture of "him" whoever "he" was. She’d had dreams with a foggy face, at least similar to the one she sketched, for many years now but as far as she knew she’d never met the man she often drew. She drew many things but he often popped up unwillingly from time to time and her grandmother was convinced she was channeling from some unknown being on another plane. It seemed Lorrie’s maternal grandmother had reverted in years as she got older, believing in more and more wild things and what her father called New Age crap. Lorrie didn’t think that was very fair of her father since of the concepts held certain appeals for her but you had to draw a line somewhere. Mystical beings and fantasy worlds were all good fun when your age was still in single digits but not when you were trying to mature in college.

Sighing Lorrie listened to the pottery wheel above her pause momentarily before resuming. She debated with going up to see just who was upstairs but decided against it, not wanting to intrude on anyone’s privacy. And anyway, she had a painting that she needed to at least start tonight. It was due in two days and like Eric had said earlier, it wasn’t that hard. Just pick a drawing from her sketchbook and replicate it in a painting. Sounded simple enough but Lorrie found herself having a hard time. A few hours later, after deciding on a small landscape she’d done over break that included an old well she'd spent days detailing, from a rundown farm in her hometown Lorrie stopped and rolled her shoulders back. She’d made enough progress for now and didn’t want to force anything else out tonight, even if the well did look too oddly misshapen. Her work never came out as well when she forced it compared to when it seemed to just flow from her. As she cleaned Lorrie realized that the pottery wheel above her was still going full tilt and she smiled. Seemed she wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil.

But midnight had come and gone nearly an hour before and Lorrie decided she really should be getting back to the dorm. She was surprised her roommate Allison hadn’t called her to check in but Lorrie predicted she was in the midst of a fight with her boyfriend, again. Lorrie just hoped it wasn’t taking place in their shared room when she got back. Turning the lights to a lower setting Lorrie slipped on her grey pea coat to button up against the cold that accompanied New England winters and slipped out of the old art studio.

The studio was situated in the middle of the short campus but the entrance was in the back of a building that faced a rundown, residential street. To make it back to her dormitory Lorrie needed to walk around the large, ancient, and unfortunately shut down building the studio was attached to. The building was saved from being condemned only because of historical significance to the school and a large remodeling project was underway. Though it probably wouldn’t be completed before her stint at the school was done Lorrie wished it would be so she could cut through instead of being forced to go around. But there was nothing she could do about that now so she set off, intending to cut down the path that ran along the small slopping hill the old building and studio were on. From there she’d simply cut across the street and onto a better lit, more populated part of campus.

A fresh blanket of snow had insulated everything and muffled all sounds leaving Lorrie feeling slightly uneasy. She blamed Eric for putting ideas of muggers and rapists in her head and set off chiding herself for being the least bit nervous. She stopped when she was halfway around the building and whipped around but of course nothing was there. No one was following her; no one was out to get her. Scolding herself again Lorrie hurried on, determined to get out of the cold and into the warmth and security of her bed. Again she was sure she heard a noise behind her, muffled by the snow, but she pressed on not wanting to let her imagination get the better of her. She’s always had an overly active one and tried to blame the noises on that.

‘You’ve also always had a strong sixth sense,’ a voice in her head reminded her, ‘so why aren’t you listening to it now?’

It was a perfectly good question that Lorrie didn’t stop to ponder as she hurried along. She turned the last corner and saw the better lit path stretch out in front of her. Lorrie couldn’t help the bit of relief she felt and decided that she’d press the school for better lighting in the area. No sooner had the thought filtered through her mind then she felt someone grab the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and pull it back hard. For a moment Lorrie hung on spinning around to face whoever was behind her, thinking that it was someone, maybe Eric, trying to scare, but she quickly let go of the bag when the face she stared at belong to a stranger. Lorrie had always figured herself a fighter but if this guy wanted her bag she’d let him have it. She felt a pang at the loss of her original work packed within but the voice of her mother echoed in her head.

‘Things are replaceable, you are not.’

Lorrie turned to run and all but slammed into another body, nearly loosing her footing on the snow slicked path, stopped from falling down by the third body she slammed into and opened her mouth to scream as a hand clamped down over her mouth. Just how many men where there? Her arms were trapped painfully behind her back and for a moment Lorrie froze as the group of five men seemed to loom around her. The feeling of helplessness was fleeting though and she quickly fought back, her mouth biting at the hand over her mouth and that got him to loosen his hold on her hands enough that she could rip herself free. Hoping to surprise the three in front of her Lorrie barreled through but was caught painfully by her loose hair, fallen around her face from her ponytail at some point in time. Swinging her left hand around she hoped to knock whoever had her away but her wrist was caught in a painfully tight grip and wrenched the arm behind her back and for a dizzying moment she was sure something had torn or broken. A wave of nausea broke over her as she was shoved to the ground, barely able to cushion herself with her free hand that scrapped against the stone path beneath her as rock salt bit into the fresh cuts she grimace.

A knee landed in her back holding her down and making it difficult to breath. The hand in her hair tightened painfully and pulled her head back, making her body bend backwards almost unnaturally.

“So you’re Isaac’s bitch huh?” a voice near her ear asked as surprisingly cold breath spilled on her skin. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he added tugging her head back even more.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lorrie managed out though it was hard through the terror and lack of oxygen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please just let me go.”

The man didn’t respond, just released her now numb wrist and pulled her coat roughly away from her neck. Confusion and fear course through her body, fueling adrenaline but her struggles were barely noticed by the four men circled tighter around her and the fifth on top of her. Fear drove a scream as the man holding her brought his free hand up to grasp at the base of her neck, roughly pushing fabric aside, as his head descended towards her. The hand in her hair and locked at the base of her neck held her head in place and as much as she wanted to Lorrie couldn’t manage another scream, seemingly trapped in her worst nightmare where she was unable to do anything to save herself. Clamping her eyes shut, hoping to block whatever this was out Lorrie felt the barest touch of lips on her skin before she collapsed to the ground.

Dazed and confused Lorrie realized she’d been dropped and free of the man’s hold on her. Rolling to her back was difficult do to her still throbbing left shoulder and nearly numb wrist but Lorrie managed in enough time to see a sixth man holding one of her attackers by the throat and squeezing hard. Chaos broke out then as the remaining four descended on the new comer and Lorrie wasn’t sure how but somehow this new man was easily beating back all five. One seemed to realize this and lunged at her, pulling her up like a shield as he gave an unearthly shriek and Lorrie was sure she saw his face changing into a gaunt, grayish shade. Lorrie cried out at the pain he brought out of her injured shoulder but was almost immediately dropped again as the man behind her turned to dust.

She couldn’t believe it as the dust cloud dissipated around her and she look back and saw that there were small piles of dust being taken by the wind where she’d last seen her attackers. And her savior, though she wasn’t sure she could call him that, stood amongst it all looking perfectly fine with it. Lorrie watched with fascination as he sheathed a dagger up his sleeve finally looking down at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a concerned laced voice. He stepped closer and she was able to see that the concern in his voice spread to his eyes. That didn’t mean that Lorrie still wasn’t terrified of him and what had just occurred. “Are you alright,” the man repeated and knelt near her. Lorrie let out an involuntary whimper and shuffled back a few inches feeling the snow soak further into her clothes.

“Who are you? What the hell just happened? Why are they dust?” Lorrie managed out, surprising herself that she was able to find her voice.

“Please, just tell me you are alright,” the man repeated.

“No I’m not alright!” Lorrie shouted in response. “I was just jumped by five men who wanted to do God knows what and were talking crazy and then you show up and they’re suddenly dust!” The man surprised her by smiling.

“I can understand why you are upset and I can explain that all in a moment or two but I have to ask again, are you hurt? Physically hurt?” There was almost a bit of pleading in his tone and his eyes were still sincere but Lorrie wasn’t sure if that meant anything. Still she found herself answering him.

“My hand got scrapped when I fell,” she said slowly, “and my left arm really hurts.” The concern in the man’s eyes deepened and Lorrie held her breath as he came closer.

“What about your neck?” he asked noticing her clothes torn near the collar.

“It hurts a bit,” Lorrie admitted but nothing compared to her still pulsing left arm, “from when they had me by my hair.”

“Did he, did anyone,” the stranger paused heavily, “bite you?”

“Bite me?” Lorrie repeated surprised and the man nodded adamantly. “No, no, I don’t think so,” she said bringing her right hand up and found her neck cold but untouched. She shuddered remembering that lips had touched her there. The man looked relieved and turned his attention to her shoulder that he prodded gently but she still winced at the touch.

“I don’t think thing is permanently damaged,” he sighed in relief, “Isaac would have killed me if that happened. Not that he isn’t going to kill me know.” The man grimaced and moved back from her. Lorrie suddenly remembered hearing that name earlier.

“That man before,” she started to say but the stranger interrupted.

“That was no man Lorrie, maybe at one time...” he trailed off and shook his head almost sadly. Lorrie’s eyes widened with fear and she scrambled to her feet determined to put distance between her and the man.

“You, you, how did you know my name?” she asked horror stricken and the man realize his mistake.

“I’m a friend,” he assured her.

“You’re a stalker,” Lorrie countered with fear fueling her back from him.

“Please Lorrie, let me explain,” he pleaded closing the distance quickly between them.

“No, no just stay away from me,” Lorrie pleaded and suddenly remembered the dagger he’d tucked away. “I’ll scream I swear I’ll scream murder if you come near me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he told her and that made her pause.

“What?”

“I’ve heard you scream before, as a child,” he shook his head at the memories as if they amused him. “You really had a set of lungs one you.” His amusement only made Lorrie feel sicker.

“Dear God,” she mumbled and turned to run and let out a shriek when the man was suddenly in front of her. It simply wasn’t possible.

“Please let me explain to you what is going on,” he said in a patience tone and Lorrie tried to keep her cool.

“Who are you? What are you?” she wanted to know.

“I,” the man said with a dramatic bow, “am Gareth DeLoardes, second in command to Isaac Winnaughten of the West and your personal protector.” Lorrie suddenly realized she had a serious problem. She had a crazy man with apparently supernatural speed talking to her but he’d mention that name again. The same name the attackers had used earlier. The attackers that had somehow turned to dust, oh no, maybe she was the one that was crazy. Swallowing hard Lorrie tried to get some of her senses straight.

“Who is this Isaac?” she found herself asking. “That’s the third time I’ve heard that name tonight.” The man, Gareth, frowned.

“Did that filth mention Isaac?” he asked and Lorrie nodded.

“Called me,” she paused and tried to remember his exact words, “called me ‘Isaac’s bitch’.”

“Don’t let those foul words get to you Lorrie,” Gareth advised and Lorrie adamantly shook her head.

“Stop talking like you know me, who are you? How do you know my name? What did you do to those men?” she asked quickly.

“As I told you before,” Gareth answered, “those creatures were not men, at least not anymore. All I did was merely grant their souls freedom and a chance at everlasting peace, given that they deserved it when they were once men.”

“I don’t understand,” Lorrie said desperately confused.

“It is a complicated matter,” Gareth admitted and then noticed her slight tremble, “and not a discussion for such a time and place. Come we must get you somewhere safe and warm.”

“I don’t,” Lorrie started to protest as he scooped up her bag and suddenly clasped her uninjured shoulder. Any other words were canceled out by the sudden sensation of free falling though she was confident her feet never left the ground. The world seemed to streak past her in a sickening whirl and when it suddenly came to a stop she found herself in the common room of her dorm. She looked around confused and then looked at Gareth for an explanation.

“I, unfortunately, cannot heal you,” he informed her and avoided her unspoken question of how they’d arrived here. “Healing was never a strong suit. I would take you to one of your hospitals but my skills are also lacking in mind numbing large numbers and I don’t want to risk too many questions. I can however offer you this,” he waved his hand and a sling appeared to cradle her injured left arm. Lorrie looked
at for a moment before taking her arm out.

“I don’t want it,” she said suddenly feeling annoyed and exhausted. This was all some nightmare, she just needed to go to bed and she could wake up and it would be over.

“I must insist,” Gareth said gently. “It was made by the Arnons and they are exceptional healers. It will help, at least, to take the pain away.”

“I don’t want it,” she repeated and pressed it back to him. “I don’t want any of this,” she added, “I don’t want to know anything you have to tell me. This is just a bad dream and I’m going to bed to finish it.” With that she turned to leave and nearly shriek again when Gareth appeared in front of her holding her bag.

“You might want this,” he offered and Lorrie took it, slinging it over her uninjured shoulder. “And as much as you might want to deny what happened tonight, unfortunately you can’t.”

“Its going to be pretty easy when I wake up in the morning and find that it really was just a bad dream,” Lorrie insisted again for the sake of her sanity.

“I promise you that I won’t allow anything else to distract me in my protection of you,” Gareth continued on. “I have served you faithfully these past eighteen years but tonight I failed you.” He shook his head as if disgusted with himself and Lorrie couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for him.

“Well you still saved me in the end,” she offered and Gareth gave her a tight smile.

“That won’t matter to Isaac,” he said with a shake of his head and then looked Lorrie hard in the eye. “He’ll be coming soon,” Gareth promised, “probably earlier than intended with these latest developments.”

“What developments?” Lorrie asked. “And who is Isaac?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” Gareth answered smugly and Lorrie scowled.

“You’re right, I don’t” she assured him and side stepped him.

“I will be watching Lorrie,” Gareth promised as she walked past him and Lorrie glanced at him as she pasted, getting her first really good look at him. Gold hair fell with small natural waves to where is was tied back, stopping at his neck. He was handsome in a way Lorrie would admit but not directly to her. Serious brown eyes looked down on her from the few inches of height he had over her small stature. He wore clothes that were perfectly normal for the most part. Though the black dress pants and matching shirt suited him and the tan overcoat gave him an almost dignified air, Gareth seemed out of place in them and she suddenly had an image of him in colonial dress, tri-point hat included. Shaking her head Lorrie continued on.

“I will be watching,” Gareth repeated, “and I will keep you safe so there is nothing to fear in your dreams tonight.”

“Except the one I’m living right now,” Lorrie replied sleepily and Gareth smiled in a way that reminded Lorrie of her older brother.

“Of course,” he said with a tiny nod of his head. Lorrie shook hers and continued on. “Sweet dreams then mistress,” he called after her and Lorrie whirled around to question him but he was already gone