Demon of Dreams (Vesperwood Academy: Incubus #1)

2. Cory

2

CORY

I was going crazy.

That was the only possible answer.

First of all, birds don’t talk. Or at least, I didn’t think any non-parrot birds talked. And even if they did, there was no way my particular non-parrot stalker-bird had talked, just to say a word from my weird sex dream, a word I didn’t even understand.

I mean, there was crazy, and there was crazy crazy, and then there was me, swimming out in the middle of the fucking Pacific Ocean of crazy, as far as possible from land, starting to sink.

Which was to say nothing of the fact that my demonic sex nightmare had led to the kind of wet dream situation I hadn’t experienced since age thirteen. So I was crazy and I was having the world’s weirdest sexual orientation crisis. It wasn’t enough to suddenly be getting off to gay stuff. No, it had to be gay monster stuff. I could only imagine what my dad would make of that.

I bit down on a skittering laugh, but couldn’t quite keep it from escaping into the night air. Yeah, I was definitely losing it.

I shoved myself to my feet, lurching so fast that the raven flapped back in surprise and let out an angry squawk. I didn’t wait to see if it was going to say something else. I just ran inside and into the small bathroom in the motel lobby. I barely made it to the toilet before I hurled.

When my insides finally stopped heaving, I stood up and regarded myself in the mirror above the chipped porcelain sink. God, I was pathetic. My brown hair was slicked dark against my forehead, and my face dripped with so much sweat, it looked like I’d been swimming. My eyes—the same steely gray blue as my father’s—were lost-looking. I hated how they made me resemble my dad, but surely he’d never looked this sunken, this caved-in on himself.

I was still wearing my winter jacket, but my gray hoodie underneath it was as wet as if I’d used it to mop the floors. The faint odor of fryer oil from the diner kitchen still clung to me, and my mouth tasted terrible.

What self-respecting sex demon would even want to fuck you? asked a little voice in the back of my mind. My reflection didn’t answer.

The fact of the matter was, until now, I’d never worried much about who I was attracted to, because no one was ever going to be attracted to me. My stomach swirled at that thought, but I pushed the feeling down. I wasn’t going to puke again.

All the girls I’d gone to high school with had better options than a guy who barely scraped the bottom edge of 5’8” and who probably weighed less than they did. And if Neil was any barometer of what gay guys were into, they clearly weren’t into me either.

Which had been a relief, frankly. The thought of sex had always given me a vaguely panicky feeling. It made my face hot, my breath rushed and shallow. Not that different from how I felt now, if I were being honest.

I’d just never understood the guys I heard in the locker room, their easy confidence when they talked about the girls they were hooking up with. How sure they were that they knew what they were doing.

Girls to me were…it was like they were some sort of shiny, glass statue that I was afraid to touch. Beautiful, but also a little distant. They left me feeling cold.

But when I thought about guys, and sex, and me in the same sentence? My stomach knotted. My breath didn’t come rushed and shallow—it didn’t come at all. If I tried to picture myself with a man, it was like my brain shorted out.

Surely those weren’t signs of attraction. Surely if I’d been into guys, I would be having normal sex dreams about them, not turning those guys into monsters.

Right?

What does it even matter ? whispered the little voice again. It’s not like guys of any type are beating down your door .

I pushed away from the sink. I didn’t want to go back out to the lobby, but since I was on shift for another hour, I kind of had to.

You are not afraid of a raven , I told myself. It’s a bird, and you’re a human, and even if it can talk, it’s too small to trigger the automatic door. It’s out there, and you’re in here. You’re safe.

For another hour, anyway.

I took a deep breath, then winced. Fryer oil and sweat did not make for a pleasant mix. I bent my head and gave my armpit a questioning sniff, then heard a loud thump outside.

I froze. The sound came not from the lobby, but outside outside. A thump like two linebackers crashing into each other. Or possibly two elephants. Followed by another. And another.

What the fuck? It didn’t sound like a car crash, but I couldn’t think of anything else big enough to make that noise.

The trouble was, I didn’t hear any voices, and surely if there’d been a crash, there would be people yelling. Oddly, I didn’t hear any other noises either.

That was normal enough for a Wednesday night, but suddenly the silence felt sinister. Had it been a truck backfiring? Some kind of accident up on the highway? What the hell would make a thump that big and then—

Bang . There was another thump, louder than the ones before, and it was accompanied by glass shattering. It sounded like someone had crashed into the sliding doors, and the raven definitely wasn’t strong enough to do that.

What if someone was hurt, and I was hiding here in the bathroom? What if someone needed my help? I threw the bathroom door open, took two steps out into the lobby, and wished I hadn’t.

Three…beings…stared at me from the entrance.

I didn’t know what to call them. Human-shaped, but taller and broader than any human could possibly be. Dressed all in black, or at least, I thought they were. It was hard to tell what was clothing and what was swirling black smoke.

Their faces were hidden behind black masks, but the one on the right had… Were those horns ? The left-hand one was either holding some kind of whip with a spike at the end, or—oh lord, was that a tail ? And the one in the middle…

The one in the middle had wings.

It was the middle one, the one with wings, who spat out a word in a guttural language that sure as hell wasn’t English. It wasn’t too hard to figure out the gist of what he’d said though, because he pointed at me with a black metal glove that ended in spikes, and all three of them advanced towards me, glass crunching underfoot.

I turned and ran.

Sorry, Red. I appreciated all the help he’d given me, and was grateful for the work, but there was no way in hell I was staying around to find out what those monsters wanted.

The trouble was, I couldn’t sprint down the hall to the obvious exit, because that would take these creatures past the two occupied guest rooms. Maybe the monsters wanted me specifically, but maybe they just wanted anyone they could find. I wasn’t going to put anyone else in harm’s way.

Instead, I sprinted past the desk and into the back office, then through a door to the laundry room, which in turn connected to what passed for a kitchen at the motel. Red’s offered complimentary ‘ continental breakfast ,’ which really just meant individually shrink-wrapped mini-muffins and coffee strong enough to burn the roof of your mouth, but we still had to have somewhere to prepare it.

Opening all those doors slowed my progress, and as the creatures followed me, panic gripped my throat. Could I even make it out of the motel before they caught up with me? They could move faster than I could, that much was clear. My saving grace was that they seemed clumsy, none too agile in dodging around the desks and boxes and long metal island in the middle of the kitchen. But their single-mindedness was also scary. They lumbered into anything in their path in their haste to get to their quarry— me .

I threw open the next door into the dining room. It was dark now, and I stumbled through the maze of little tables and chairs that awaited tomorrow’s breakfast. I caught my hip on one of them and let out a yell, but bit it off quickly. I didn’t want the guests opening the doors to see what was going on. I had to keep the monsters away from them.

On the far side of the dining room, another door beckoned, its bright red exit sign lit up in the dark. I slammed my body against it and had just made it out into the freezing night when I heard those creatures crash into the dining room behind me.

I was in the back parking lot, and I had a decision to make. Red’s Motel was right by the highway. Did I run back towards town and the possibility of help? Or did I head for the highway, and do my best to keep these monsters away from the rest of Churchill?

I heard a crash behind me and saw the back door open, the creatures pouring out into the night. I froze for a second, then made my decision. Highway. I didn’t know what these things wanted, but I couldn’t lead them into town so they could hurt others.

I sprinted out of the parking lot, my lungs gasping for air. I knew I shouldn’t look over my shoulder. It only slowed me down. But it was hard not to as the monsters’ grunts grew louder, the thud of their footsteps growing closer.

Maybe they just want to talk to you ?

The thought flitted across my mind wildly, and I almost laughed, imagining that this was all some big misunderstanding, that these three nightmare creatures just wanted to ask me about nearby tourist attractions.

Then something hot and acrid whooshed past my ear, and I was barely able to swerve around a fireball that smashed into the ground at my feet. I looked over my shoulder again and saw the one with the wings raising his fist, another angry red sphere crackling in his hand.

So, not tourists, then .

I turned around and tried to run faster. The entrance ramp to the highway loomed up out of the darkness and I turned onto it. It was probably suicide to run onto the highway itself, but it was the only thing I could think of.

At that moment, something else rushed by my face. Another fireball? No, nothing exploded in front of me. I risked another look back and gaped. Something was swirling around the heads of the monsters. Something small and black and—wait, was that the raven?

An angry caw confirmed it.

Fuck you, buddy , I thought. Was this why you were following me all day ? So you could lead these creatures to me ?

The raven cawed a second time, much louder, and something else whooshed out of the night and past my face. Then another something. And another.

My head whipped around again, and I almost tripped. There were five ravens now—no, ten—no, even more. So many I couldn’t count. And they were attacking the monsters. A storm of them descended from the sky, creating a tornado of wings and otherworldly screeches around the things chasing me.

The birds were…helping me?

My mind struggled to make sense of that, but I didn’t have time to stop and think. I would take any advantage they gave me. I reached the end of the exit ramp and started running down the shoulder of the highway in the same direction as the traffic. I could hear the monsters behind me on the ramp, but farther back than before. Whatever the ravens were doing, it was helping.

A pothole appeared out of the dark on the shoulder, and I darted into the right lane to avoid it. A second later, a squeal of brakes ripped through the night behind me. I turned again and saw a beat-up old station wagon screech to a halt three feet from me.

The driver, a middle-aged guy with a baseball cap and a short beard, was already leaning out of his window, yelling about what the hell did I think I was doing, but I didn’t bother to listen. I ran up to his car and began tugging at the passenger side door.

“Please! Please!” I shouted. “You have to let me in. They’re going to kill me.”

He stared at me, and then, to my shock, unlocked the door. I didn’t stop to question it. I swung the door open and threw myself inside.

“Drive,” I begged. “Just drive. We have to get away.”

The guy gave me another strange look, but again, didn’t object. He just put his foot on the gas and drove. I let out a shaky breath as the car accelerated, speeding down the road once more.

The whole chase had taken less than five minutes. And the driver still wasn’t saying anything. My mind raced.

What was he thinking? And why had he let me in? Who picked up hitchhikers anymore?

Was I being paranoid, or was there a reason to worry? How did he know I wasn’t a serial killer? Or maybe he didn’t care, because he was a serial killer.

I took a tremulous breath. Even if he was a killer, I felt better in his car than outside with those monsters or demons or whatever the hell they were.

“Thank you,” I said, once my breath began to slow down. “Seriously, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. They were going to kill me.”

At least, I was pretty sure that was what fireballs-launched-at-your-head meant these days.

Finally, the driver spoke. “Who?”

“Who?” I gaped. “Those three…guys…behind me? All in black? Some kind of armor, or cloaks, or…”

I trailed off. The driver was looking like he was beginning to regret picking me up. I decided it might be time to shut my mouth. Maybe the monsters had been farther behind me than I realized, or the ravens had made them too hard to see.

“Well, thanks,” I said, then lapsed into silence.

The driver shrugged and turned on the radio. Staticky country filled the car.

He didn’t speak again for about fifteen minutes, when he asked, “Where are you headed?”

I bit my lip. “I’m not sure. Where are you going?”

“Mason City.”

I nodded. “Guess that’s where I’m headed, too.”

About half an hour later, the driver—we still hadn’t exchanged names—pulled off at a highway rest stop.

“Been driving all day,” he said. “Up from New Mexico. Happy to keep taking you to Mason City, but I need a nap.”

“Sure,” I said faintly. “That’s fine.”

Maybe this was some kind of serial killer trap, but I was more worried about the creatures I’d left behind. Was I far enough away from them? Where had they even come from? And who—or what— were they?

I couldn’t say any of that out loud, but maybe I could use the break to think of a plan. Or at the very least, a next step. The driver leaned his seat back, tipped his ball cap over his face, and was snoring within a minute. It didn’t seem feigned.

My mind reviewed the night’s events. Had that all really happened, or had I imagined it? Was that why the driver didn’t see anything? Was I actually going crazy?

The thing was, I didn’t think I was. And if I wasn’t… If I wasn’t, that meant that what had happened tonight was real. The monsters. The ravens.

And the dream?

Vesperwood .

What did that mean? The demon in the dream had said it, and then the raven too. I’d never heard the word before. I pulled out my phone and typed the word into a search engine.

Nothing came up.

Or, well, nothing normal. No website. No famous law firm, or movie title, or politician, or small town in Vermont. The only results I got were a few weird posts from blogs that seemed to have gone defunct ten years ago.

Memento Vesperwood , one said.

Vesperwood. Mori et iterum vivere , said another.

A third post was just a mood-board of pictures. Woods and lakes and vintage-looking memorabilia. One of the pictures was of a coffee mug that said Somebody in Wisconsin Loves Me in faded blue letters. The tags on the post said #MagicaeEtFabula and #VesperwoodAcademy .

Considering I didn’t speak Latin, none of that was much help.

What was I doing? Mason City didn’t make any sense as a destination. I didn’t know anybody there. With Neil in New York, the closest person I had was Franny in Des Moines, and now I was headed in the opposite direction.

Then again, if all of this was real, there was no way I could drop this mess in her lap. No. If this was real, the best thing I could do for my friends was to keep it away from them. Until I figured it out. Somehow.

Vesperwood Academy. Was it some kind of fancy private school in Wisconsin? That didn’t sound very useful to me, considering I’d already graduated high school. But maybe it was worth looking into further. Right now, it was the best idea I had.

Unless it led me straight back to those monsters. I wasn’t sure I liked the fact that the demon in my dream had said it. But the raven had said it too, and then it and all its friends had helped me. That had to mean something, right?

Exhaustion rose as the panic from earlier drained out of me. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap. The driver was sleeping anyway. He didn’t look like he was going to murder me. I’d just close my eyes for a few minutes. Just for a…

Bright light flashed above me, blinding me for a second. I looked around in confusion. I was in a men’s room, the kind you’d see at a stadium or a library or—or a highway rest stop. I didn’t remember leaving the car to use it, but that had to be where I was.

“Don’t be nervous,” said a voice to my right, and I blinked. The driver was walking towards me. Only, I could have sworn he wasn’t there a second ago.

He was taller than I’d realized. Over six feet, and rangy. His stare was intense.

Nervous? Had I told him about those monsters, or was something else going on?

“Why would I—”

“Everyone has a first time. You’ll enjoy this.” His stare wasn’t just intense. It was hungry.

What was going on?

“Enjoy what?”

“What I’m about to show you.” He grabbed my wrist and tugged. I stumbled forward, letting him drag me into a stall, more out of surprise than anything else.

He pushed me inside, then stepped in after me and locked the door in one rough motion.

“Now,” he said, pressing me up against the wall of the stall. “How about you show me a little gratitude for the free ride? A little something in return, huh?”

“In re—?”

My jaw dropped open as comprehension dawned. Sex. He was talking about sex. With me. He wanted me to…to pay him back.

His tongue entered my mouth before I finished speaking, his hands roaming across my shirtless body, so thin compared to his. His tongue curled around my own, pushing and probing deeper into me. He tasted like grain alcohol and peppermint.

Wait a second. Shirtless? No matter how gross and sweaty my hoodie was, I didn’t remember taking it off. Or my jacket, for that matter. So how the hell was I—

Dream . The word whispered across my mind, and I knew it was true. This was just a dream. None of this was real.

The driver’s calloused hands teased me in places I hadn’t realized were sensitive. His left hand pinched my nipple as the right dropped down to palm my crotch. Fuck, I was hard.

At least it’s not a monster this time . You might still be dreaming fucked up situations, but at least you can see this guy’s face. Is there any harm in giving into it?

Except I wasn’t gay. And this was disgusting. I was disgusting, for wanting this. For wanting him. For wanting a stranger to manhandle me in a public restroom, and for liking it when he pushed me up against a wall.

His hand dipped down under my jeans, palming my cock. It throbbed, aching for more attention.

“I knew you were a slut,” he said, his laugh lecherous. “Knew you wanted this.”

Before I could say anything, he shoved me to my knees. My skin pebbled as it scraped the ground. I looked down. When had my jeans come off?

Dream , said the little voice. It’s just a dream . You don’t have to worry about it . You can just enjoy—

Faggot . That wasn’t the voice in the back of my mind. That was my dad’s voice. I could hear it, as gruff and clear as if he were here with me. My skin crawled at the sneer in his tone.

Pathetic excuse for a son. Enjoying this like the slut you are.

I cringed. I didn’t want to hear his voice anymore. I didn’t want any part of him infecting me.

I’d been grateful when he died. Maybe that made me a bad person, but he was dead. Dead . So why did I have to hear him in my head?

“Open up.” My gaze jerked upwards, and the driver’s hard cock brushed against my lips. “Open up now and suck me off.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise, and the head of his cock slipped between my lips of its own accord.

“That’s it. Now keep going,” the driver commanded. He slid his cock a little deeper into my mouth in encouragement.

I stared up at him in confusion, wondering how I’d gotten into this situation. Waiting for the disgust to rise up again. Waiting to pull away from him, to refuse, to tell him no.

Instead, I leaned forward and took more of his cock into my mouth. It filled the space, hot and hard, and I couldn’t even get all the way down on it before it hit the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, and gagged around it instead.

The driver laughed, and thrust his hips forward, the tip of his cock reaching my throat again. That only made me gag harder, and by the time he pulled out, his cock was coated in spit. I looked up at him, across his hairy belly, his body impossibly tall from this angle. He leered.

“Get going,” he said. “I’m not letting you up ‘til you get me off.”

It’s not real , I reminded myself. This was my dream. I was the one in control. Which must mean…I liked this?

“Every boy learns this at some point,” the driver continued, his left hand digging into my shoulder. “And you don’t want me to get rough with you, do you? Don’t want to learn the hard way?”

Revulsion rolled through my body. This was disgusting. Wrong. Shameful.

And so incredibly hot.

I leaned forward and took the head of his cock into my mouth again, dripping with spit and the tang of precum. It should have been revolting. It should have turned my stomach. But all it did was make me want more.

“There you go,” the driver said as I took him deeper. “Just like that.”

His right hand slid behind my head, twisting in my hair. I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock as he penetrated my mouth. The tip scraped the back of my throat again. I gagged—and my cock throbbed.

He noticed. “Told you you’d like it. Go on, son. Show me how much you like serving a real man.”

I froze, looking down. My cock stood at attention, a long strand of pre-cum running from the tip down to the grimy tile floor. Fuck, I didn’t want him to see that. Didn’t want anybody to see that, not even myself. I didn’t want to know how much I liked this.

I grabbed my cock, and the touch of my fingers was almost too good, but that wasn’t the point. I shifted, spreading my thighs apart, and shoved my cock down, trapping it between them. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but at least it got it out of the way.

My hand was now slick with pre-cum. I brought it up and stroked the driver’s cock with it.

“That’s it,” he said, that lecherous laugh snaking out of his mouth again. “You know just what I like.”

It took me a while to get the hang of sucking him off while holding my legs tense enough that my cock stayed trapped. Every time I leaned in, my cock threatened to slip free of its prison. Worse, the friction between my thighs felt incredible, which was fucked up, and wrong, and pathetic, and heavenly.

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on what my mouth was doing, but that was hardly any help. The tang of the driver’s sweat, the slightly sour scent of his skin, the girth and length of another man’s cock in my mouth—it was almost overwhelming.

How had I never done this before?

How could I want to do it now?

Eventually, the driver got tired of my careful stance, of the way my body was frozen, trying not to stimulate my cock too much. He brought both hands to the back of my head and pulled me forward with a jerk. His cock went straight down my throat, deeper than it had ever gone before.

“You little slut,” he grunted, shoving his cock in and out of my mouth. “Knew you what you were the second you got in my car. Knew you wanted this, to be on your knees in front of a real man. Little whore.”

Fear flared in my chest. Not because of what was happening, or even what he was saying, but because of how he said it. It was the driver talking, but I heard the words in my father’s voice.

Shame and nausea mixed with pleasure. My cock was so hard, throbbing against my thighs, and the more he talked, the closer I got to the edge.

“Knew what you needed. Knew someone needed to break you in. Show you what you really are. Show—you—you’re—fuck.”

He came in a rush, hot cum releasing so deep in my throat I could barely taste it. The next second, I was coming too, spilling cum into the crease between my thighs. His cock pulsed in my throat, emptying itself, and my cock responded in kind. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. All I could do was feel, floating on waves of oblivion and ecstasy.

“Hey, you ready to go again?”

The driver’s voice brought me back down to earth. I opened my eyes, and my head whipped back and forth in confusion. We were back in the station wagon, in the parking lot, the pitch-black of the night enveloping us.

“I—wha—what did you say?” I asked, trying to get my breath under control.

It was a dream, remember ?

Some dream. It had felt so real, each sensation as detailed and vivid as waking life. But I’d never left the car.

“I asked if you were ready to go again,” the driver repeated, giving me a doubtful look. “You were pretty out of it, huh?”

I flushed, grateful he couldn’t see my cheeks in the dark. Grateful he couldn’t see anything. I could feel cum coating my cock and balls, dripping down my inner thighs inside my boxers. I really needed a change of clothes.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice still breathy. “Yeah, I guess I was. But I’m all set, if you’re ready to go.”

“Sounds good.” The driver nodded and put the car in drive. “You were kind of moaning there for a second. Woke me up, actually. Thought maybe you were having a bad dream.”

If you only knew …

I’d never been more grateful that people couldn’t read minds. There was no way he’d let me stay in the car if he knew what I’d been dreaming about.

“You like bluegrass?” the driver asked, fiddling with the radio. “Think we’re in range of one of my favorite stations by now.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d even recognize bluegrass. But I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Here, listen.” He took his fingers away from the radio dial. A twangy banjo filled the car, the notes plucked quickly and confidently. The sound was upbeat and energetic and altogether different from both my dream and the night’s earlier events.

I nodded. “Yeah. This is good.”

The driver smiled. “Told you you’d like it.”

I froze, then shook myself. Stop being an idiot . It’s a normal phrase . Just a coincidence .

“Mason City, here we come,” he said cheerfully.

I nodded.

First Mason City. Then Wisconsin, if I could hitch my way there. And then?

Then I’d figure out what to do next.