Beautiful Secrets (Cranksepticeye Fanfiction)

~2.04~ The Sandman or Something Like Him

Jack's birthday was in a week.
Seven days.
One hundred and sixty eight hours.
Ten thousand and eight seconds.
Claim yourself.
Jack and I were exhausted, but we ditched school anyway to spend the day with The Book of Moons. I had become an expert at Anna's signature, and Miss Hester wouldn't dare ask Jack for a note from Macon Ravenwood. It was a cold, clear day, and we curled together in the freezing garden at Greenbrier, huddled under the old sleeping bag from the Beater, trying to figure out for the thousandth time if anything in the Book could help.
I could tell Jack was starting to give up. His ceiling was completely covered in Sharpie, wallpapered with the words he couldn't say and the thoughts he was too scared to express.
darkfire, lightdark / dark matter, what matters? the great darkness swallows the great light, as they swallow my life / caster / boy super / natural before / first sight seven days seven days seven days 777777777777777.
I couldn't blame him. It did seem pretty hopeless, but I wasn't ready to give up. I never would be. Jack slumped against the old stone wall, crumbling like what little chance we had left. "This is impossible. There are too many Casts. We don't even know what we're looking for."
There were Casts for every conceivable purpose: Binding the Unfaithful, Bringing Forth Water from the Sea, Binding the Runes.
But nothing that said Cast to Uncurse Your Family from a Dark Binding, or Cast to Undo the Act of Trying to Bring Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandmother Genevieve's War Hero Back to Life, or Cast to Avoid Going Dark at Your Claiming. Or the one I was really looking for - Cast to Save your Boyfriend (Now That You Finally Have One) Before It's Too Late.
I turned back to the Table of Contents: Obsecrationes, Incantamina, Nectentes, Maledicentes, Malefica.
"Don't worry, Jack. We'll figure it out." But even as  I said it, I wasn't so sure.

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The longer the Book stayed on the top shelf of my closet, the more I felt like my room was becoming haunted. It was happening to both of us, every night: the dreams, which felt more like nightmares, were getting worse. I hadn't slept for more than a couple hours in days. Every time I closed my eyes, every time I fell asleep, they were there. Waiting. But even worse, it was the same nightmare replayed again and again in a constant loop. Every night, I lost Jack over and over again, and it was killing me.
My only strategy was to stay awake. Jacked up on sugar and caffeine from drinking Coke and Red Bull, playing video games. Reading everything from Heart of Darkness to my favorite issue of Silver Surfer, the one where Galactus swallows the universe, over an dover. But anyone who hasn't slept in days knows, by the third or fourth night you're so tired you could fall asleep standing up.
Even Galactus didn't stand a chance.

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Burning.
There was fire everywhere.
And smoke. I choked on the smoke and ash, It was pitch black, impossible to see. And the heat was like sandpaper scraping against my skin.
I couldn't hear anything except the roar of the fire.
I couldn't even hear Jack screaming, except in my head.
Let go! You have to get out!
I could feel the bones in my wrist snapping, like tiny guitar strings breaking one by one. He let go of my wrist like he was preparing for me to release him, but I'd never let go.
Don't do that, Jack! Don't you let go!
Let me go! Please . . . save yourself!
I'd never let go.
But I could feel him sliding through my fingers. I tried to hold on tighter, but he was slipping . . .

I bolted upright in bed, coughing. It was so real I could taste the smoke. But my room wasn't hot; it was cold. My window was open again. The moonlight allowed my eyes to adjust more quickly than usual to the darkness.
I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Something was moving, in the shadows.
There was someone in my room.
"Holy crap!"
He tried to get out before I noticed him, but he wasn't fast enough. He knew I'd seen him. So he did the only thing he could do. He turned to face me.
"Although I myself don't consider it particularity holy, who am I to correct you after such an ungraceful exit?" Macon smiled his Cary Grant smile and approached the end of my bed. He was wearing a long black coat and dark slacks. He looked like he was dressed for some kind of turn-of-the-century night on the town, instead of modern-day breaking and entering. "Hello, Ethan."
"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?"
He seemed at a loss, for Macon, which just meant he didn't have an immediate and charming explanation on the tip of his tongue. "It's complicated."
"Well, uncomplicate it. Because you climbed in my window in the middle of the night, so either you're some kind of vampire or some kind of perv, or both. Which is it?"
"Mortals, everything is so black and white to you. I'm not a Hunter, nor a Harmer. You would be confusing me with my brother, Hunting. Blood dosen't interest me." He shuddered at the thought. "Neither blood nor flesh." He lit a cigar, rolling it between his fingers. Anna was going to have a fit when she smelled that tomorrow. "In fact, it all makes me a bit squeamish."
I was losing my patience. I hadn't slept in days and I was tired of everyone dodging my questions all the time. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. "I've had enough of your riddles. Answer the question. What are you doing in my room?"
He walked over to the cheap swivel chair next to my desk and sat down in one sweeping movment. "Let's just say I was eavesdropping."
I picked up the old Jackson High basketball T-shirt balled up on the floor and pulled it over my head. "Eavesdropping on what, exactly? There's no one here. I was sleeping."
"No, actually you were dreaming."
"How do you know that? Is taht one of your Caster powers?"
"I'm afraid not. I'm not a Caster, not technically.
My breath caught in my throat. Macon Ravenwood never left his house during the day; he could make himself appear out of nowhere, watch people through the eyes of his wolf that masqueraded as a dog, and nearly squeeze the life out of a Dark Caster without flinching. If he wasn't a Caster, there was only one explanation.
"So you are a vampire."
"I most certainly am not." He looked annoyed. "That's such a common phrase, such a cliche, and so unflattering. There are no such things as vampires. I suppose you believe in werewolves and aliens, too. I blame television." He inhaled deeply from his cigar. "I hate to disappoint you. I'm an Incubus. I'm sure it was just a matter of time before Annette told you herself, since she seems so intent on revealing all my secrets."
An Incubus?I didn't even know if I should be scared. I must have looked confused, because Macon felt compelled to elaborate. "By nature, gentlemen like myself do have certain powers, but those powers are only relative to our strength which we must replenish regularly." There was something disturbing about the way he said replenish.
"What do you mean by replenish?"
"We feed, for lack of a better word, on Mortals to replenish our strength."
The room started to sway. Or maybe Macon was swaying.
"Ethan, sit down. You look absolutely pallid." Macon strode over and guided me to the edge of the bed. "As I said, I use the word 'feed' for lack of a better term. Only a Blood Incubus feeds on Mortal blood, and I am not a Blood Incubus. Although we are both Lilum - those who dwell in the Absolute Darkness - I am something entirely more evolved. I take something you Mortals have in abundance, something you don't even need."
"What?"
"Dreams. Fragmented bits and pieces. Ideas, desires, fears, memories - nothing you miss." The words came rolling out of his mouth as if he was speaking a charm. I found myself struggling to process them, trying to understand what he was saying. My mind felt like it was wrapped in thick wool.
But then, I understood. I could feel the pieces clicking together like a puzzle in my mind. "The dreams - you've been taking a part of them? Sucking them out of my head? That's the reason I can't remember the whole dream?"
He smiled and stubbed his cigar out on an empty Coke can on my desk. "Guilty as charged. Except for the 'sucking.' Not the most polite phraseology."
"If you're the one sucking -stealing my dreams, then you know the rest. You know what happens at the end. You can tell us, so we can stop it."
"I'm afraid not. I selected the bits and pieces I took rather intentionally."
"Why don't you want us to know what happens? If we know the rest of the dream, maybe we can stop it from happening."
"It seems you know too much already, not that I understand it completely myself."
"Stop talking riddles for once. You keep saying I can protect Jack, that I have power. Why don't you tell me what the hell is really going on, Mr. Ravenwood, because I'm tired, and I'm sick of being jerked around."
"I can't tell you what I don't know, son. You're a bit of a mystery."
"I'm not your son."
"Melchizedek Ravenwood!" Anna's voice rang out like a bell.
Macon started losing his composure.
"How dare you come into this house without my permission!" She was standing in her bathrobe holding a long rope of beads. If I didn't know better I'd have thought it was a necklace. Anna shook the beaded charm angrily in her fist. "We have an agreement. This house is off-limits. You find somewhere else to do your dirty business."
"It's not that simple, Annette. The boy is seeing things in his dreams, things that are dangerous for both of them."
Anna's eyes were wild. "Are you feeding offa my boy? Is that what you're saying? Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Calm down. Don't be so literal. I am merely doing what is necessary to protect them both."
"I know what you do and what you are, Melchizedek, and you will deal with the Devil in due time. Don't you bring that evil into my house."
"I made a choice long ago, Annette. I've fought what I was destined to be. I fight every night of my life. But I am not Dark, not as long as I have the child to concern me."
"Dosen't change what you are. That's not a choice you get to make."
Macon's eyes narrowed. It was clear the bargain between the two of them was a delicate one, and he had jeopardized it by coming here. How many times? I didn't even know.
"Why don't you just tell me what happens at the end of the dream? I have a right to know. It's my dream."
"It's a powerful dream, a disturbing dream, and Jack dosen't need to see it. He's not ready to see it, and you two are so inexplicably connected. He sees what you see. So you can understand why I had to take it."
The rage welled up inside me. I was so angry, angrier than when Mrs. Fischbach stood up and liked about Jack at the Disciplinary Committee meeting, angrier than when I found the pages of scribble in my father's study.
"No. I don't understand. If you know something that can help him, why won't you tell us? Or just stop using your Jedi mind tricks on me and my dreams and let me see it for myself?"
"I am only trying to protect him. I love Jack, and I would never-"
"-I know, I've heard it. You'd never do anything to hurt him. What you forgot to say is that you won't do anything to help him, either."
His jaw tightened. Now he was the one who was angry. I knew how to recognize it now. But he didn't break character, not even for a minute. "I am trying to protect him, Ethan, and you as well. I know you care for Jack, and you do offer him some kind of protection, but there are things you don't see right now, things that are beyond any of our control. One day you will understand. You and Jack are just too different."
A Species Apart. Just like the other Ethan wrote to Genevieve. I understood it all right. Nothing had changed in over a hundred years.
His eyes softened. I thought maybe he pitied me, but it was something else. "Ultimately, it will be your burden to bear. It's always the Mortal who bears it. Trust me, I know."
"I don't trust you and you're wrong. We aren't too different."
"Mortals. I envy you. You think you can change things. Stop the universe. Undo what was done long before you came along. You are such beautiful creatures." He was talking to me, but it didn't feel like he was talking about me anymore. "I apologize for the intrusion. I'll leave you to your sleep.
"Just stay out of my room, Mr. Ravenwood. And out of my head."
He turned toward the door, which surprised me. I expected him to leave the way he had arrived.
"One more thing. Does Jack know what you are?"
He smiled. "Of course. We have no secrets between us."
I didn't smile back. There were more than a few secrets between them, even if this wasn't one of them, and both Macon and I knew it.
He turned away from me with a swirl of his overcoat, and was gone.
Just like that.