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He felt his mind slipping, a calm and peaceful feeling overtaking him. Devon didn’t notice what looked like pillars beginning to form before his eyelids became heavy. His mind was finally done processing for the night.
***
Devon opened his eyes again and found himself not in bed, but on a rooftop. The rooftop of a building in the middle of a battle zone.
He recognized this place, this feeling. He was reliving a memory.
As he looked through his scope, he saw his target was nothing more than a blood stain on the sidewalk.
A young child stood over the body. One he didn’t remember being there when the event actually took place, but he somehow knew she was the man’s daughter. The girl, no more than three years old, had watched her father fall to the ground. His blood and brains splattering all over the door to the store they had just exited.
She began screaming for her father in their native language as she fell to her knees, begging him to wake up. Pleading with him.
He knew the local militia would be on their way as he quickly took his rifle apart and packed up.
Even though he was out of there in less than a minute, it had felt like an eternity.
He heard yelling and the pops of gunfire as he made his way down the stone stairs into the stifling heat. Though it was almost nightfall, the heat was always relentless here.
Devon made it to the door of the building he was in and stashed his rifle knowing one of his team would be by later for it. He made sure it was secured, then pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his worn leather jacket and a lighter from his cargo pants. As he lit his cigarette, he began the trek down the street where people stood observing the scene, looking at the gore.
Vultures, he thought snidely, as he worked his way around an older woman, taking a drag of his cigarette.
He did not want to look over at the scene, but he did, and immediately regretted it.
His dream altered, the memory going from the gray hue his memories were normally cast in to bright and vibrant coloring.
The man who had just been dead, stood up, a black inky color coming from him. The little girl next to him took her father’s hand as they walked towards Devon.
The man halted a few steps in front of Devon, his eyes an unnaturally bright purple, his hair now long and black.
“It is not over, little God. Not by a long shot.” The man’s face grew into a sinister smile, and he turned towards his daughter, a knife dripping with green liquid suddenly in his hand.
Her face showing absolute horror as she begged her father not to hurt her, her eyes now bright blue.
Devon shoved the man out of the way as he felt the knife slice along his arm, and he threw himself on top of the little girl to save her. When he looked down, blood ran from her mouth and her eyes were lifeless.
He was too late.
***
He bolted upright in bed as he heard a quiet, almost hesitant knock at his door.
Glad for the distraction, he slowly rolled out of bed to pull on some sweatpants before he opened the door.
His heart picked up its beat when he saw Persephone on the other side, her eyes coming to his as he opened the door fully.
“Sorry, I just…” she trailed off as he moved forward and pulled her against him into a hug
without thinking. She relaxed into his embrace, and he could feel her relief.
“Need a cuddle buddy?” he teased. His voice was rough with sleep.
Please, he thought, please let her stay. He needed to release the tension of the dream.
Needed comfort as much as he knew she did. He was tired of them both shutting down on each other and running away when it grew uncomfortable.
Thanatos was right. It was time for him to step up and acknowledge this was his life. He was no longer a mortal man and something deep inside him had feelings for the immortal in his arms. He could fight and fight, but he would only wear himself down. He needed to work on understanding it.
