Chapter Thirty Seven

Bryson' POV

It was silent.

Just eerie, dead silence and it was unnerving.

My eyes were closed, trying to use all my senses to tell what, or where I was now. All I could remember was that my head was splitting into two from that excruciating pain; flashes of images that emerged and faded like the speed of light. I couldn't understand what those images meant. I knew that those were important, but for the life of me, I couldn't place them.

Before you know it, I was out like a light.

Now here I was in this desolation, trying to find out why I ended up in this state.

Then again, the silence was still getting into me.

"Bryson," A deep and husky male voice called out to me. I swore that voice had that slight familiarity, but I couldn't seem to point out the specifics.

"Bryson," the familiar voice called out once again. "Arise, my friend."

I tried, believe me, I tried my hardest to peel my eyes open, but my efforts were damn fruitless. It was like someone put glue to my eyelids!

The voice sighed. "Why must I do all the work around here..."

Gee, not only the voice was familiar, but a jerk that complains too.

A warm, tingling feeling encompassed my whole being. It started from my toes, to my legs, to my waist, and up to my head. It was a strange feeling, but it felt familiar, that sort of kinship that only my kind could conjure.

"There..." the voice murmured. "Now, open your eyes."

Slowly, and surely, I peeled my eyes open, and I was greeted to nothing. Everything was just plain black, no color, no objects in the surroundings.

Just... nothing. Like in a middle of nowhere.

"What the..." I murmured, completely baffled at this moment. I worked on moving my arms and legs, testing it out for injuries and such. With the knowledge that it was okay to move, I stood up straight and immediately looked for that voice. I had to say, it was getting a bit creepy.

As if reading my mind, the voice said, "I'm right behind you and I'm not creepy."

Shocked, I whirled around and was greeted with another me...?

It was hard to believe in my own eyes. He had my brown, spiky yet disheveled hair. That blue piercing eyes and that chiseled features. The body structure was astonishing beyond belief. I had to second guess that if that was what I was really seeing.

Again, as if sensing my train of thought, my other me rolled his eyes and said, "You don't have to be so shocked, Bryson. After all, I am you, and you are me, though I am your spiritual counterpart."

I was beyond lost there. "My spiritual what?" I asked, totally lost with the situation. I may be a supernatural being, equipped with powers that was incomprehensible to man, but when you're face-to-face with your spiritual being is just... mind-boggling.

My spiritual self-sighed. "I guess I need to explain myself then."

I could only nod. "Yeah, do that, because I am totally lost, like lost-in-the-forest lost."

My other self-took a deep breath and began his story. This better be good. "When your mind was altered by that Elder Marcus--" I intercepted his words, not letting him finish.

"Marcus did what?!" I blew up in complete outrage, my hands were curled into tight fist on my sides. At this point, my Alerian powers were coming into light, judging by the crackle in the air.

My spirit rolled his eyes and in a flash he appeared right in front of me, putting his hand on my shoulder. That tingling feeling was back again, blanketing me like a cloak. "Relax, Bryson," he told me in a soothing manner. "Listen to my story first, before you go Incredible Hulk on me, okay?"

With deep calming breaths, I tried my hardest reeling in my powers. It was a hard feat, knowing I was dispelling raw Alerian power. With that magnitude, I could blow the whole Pentagon to smithereens to ground zero. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating.

Eyeing me cautiously, my spirit asked, "Are you calm enough not to interrupt me?"

I nodded slowly. I didn't want to have another repeat of losing myself. "Yeah, sorry about that," I apologized a bit sheepishly.

"Now, before I was rudely interrupted," he continued, and I had the urge to retort a snide remark, but I restrained myself. I could do that after. "Every Alerian has their own spiritual psyche, just in case something happens. Your spiritual self is there to guide you, help you out in sticky situations, like this one. When Elder Marcus altered your memory, a security trigger was formed. A trigger to activate your spiritual psyche."

"What do you mean by spiritual psyche?" I asked.

"It means I am your reinforcement, the one who will guide you in getting you out of this shit of a mess."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, you really have to lay it on hard on me, huh?"

He chuckled. "I am you after all, and we don't do bullshit."

That we could agree on. I was never one for bullshit - just straight to the point. "Right you are, spiritual me," I told him with a chuckle. "If anything, we are hard asses."

"Damn straight."

Then I remembered that my mind was altered by that imbecile Marcus. The question here lies, who initiated the alteration? Who had the balls to call upon our most hated enemy out of desperation, just so they could get what they wanted? I could only think of one person, and I was hoping that it wouldn't be true. It could cause a whole load of trouble, not only for our kind, but to the vampire world as well.

Either way, I had to know, and I want to know now.

With that in mind, I erased any thoughts of humor, and schooled my face to one of seriousness. "If Marcus did the alteration, who's behind the idea?"

All I needed to know was the look of my spiritual self's face. It was one of pain, anger, disbelief, and with a touch of disgust. One that was growing to be familiar every time I saw her. I knew I was being a hypocrite knowing I dated her when Reagan left, but I couldn't help it. Don't get me wrong, I did love Ciara. I really did with all of me. She was there to pick up the pieces when Reagan left. She was there when I cried myself to sleep. She was there to mend my broken heart.

With the way she was being unreasonable and being a bitch, I just had it.

However, with the love I had for Reagan, it was impossible for me to overlap that love I had for Ciara.

The love I have for Reagan would forever be truly special.

"Tell me what to do," I asked my spiritual self, ready to do anything to break this spell. I had to break free from this, just so I could confront Ciara and embed the harsh truth into her stubborn brain. Even if it meant reminding her over and over with things that could no longer be, no matter how harsh I may deliver it, it had to be done. I was once her friend, and I am going to end this with the compassion and care of a friend before she would fall into her doom.

"Also..." he dragged, looking unsure all of sudden. "I may have something to tell you. Something really important..."

Now what?

My eyes narrowed into thin slits. I really hated when something so important of a information was withheld from me. "What is it that you are not telling me?"

"You are not an ordinary Alerian."

That brought me to silent bafflement. Not an ordinary Alerian? I already got the idea that I was not human and I was born with a power that was inherited by our forebears. I grew up fighting supernatural beings that tried to annihilate our race to non-existent, knowing we are a threat. Now here I am, hearing I was not an ordinary Alerian? Now, that is just beyond laughable.

Seeing I didn't believe him, he gave me a sad smile. "You don't believe me, do you?"

I laughed without humor. "How could I?" I told him, finding this absurd. "I know that I am not human, but not an ordinary Alerian? Pfft! Please, what am I, genetically engineered?"

"Bryson, you are born with a purpose," he said with utmost seriousness. "You are meant for something big and something that would save lives, especially with the prophecy."

And with a whisper, he added, "And with Reagan..."

In a flash, I was in front of him. When I heard Reagan's name, knowing she was in danger, I was pissed. Gripping his collar tightly with a snarl etched on my face, our noses almost touching, I growled through clenched teeth. "What do you know?" I gritted out. "So tell me or else I'll hurt you if you don't--"

I wasn't able to finish my words of threat. No, I wasn't. I was thrown back with unbelievable force. I forgot I was dealing with my spiritual psyche, who was also as powerful as I am. My body had slid as far as the force had allowed me to, and with a blink of an eye, my spiritual self-materialized in front me. He held up his hand mid-air, which in turn had my body levitating on air too. And then he close hands in a form of fist, and before you know it, I was gasping for air.

He was choking me to death.

My vision was getting blurry, but I was still able to see the raging glow in that familiar blue eyes whenever we were in Alerian mode. Remind me not to piss off my spiritual self next time.

"Do not," he started, seething in anger, "and I mean do not threaten me, Bryson."

I was suffocated with the lack of air, I couldn't breathe through that imaginary constriction. "Can't b-b-bbreathe," I managed to rasp out from that vice grip. "I'm. sor-rry. I won't-t d-ddo that again."

Seeming satisfied, with one last vice grip, he let me go, and I was dropped heavily on the cold, hard floor. I was grasping for air, trying to get as much oxygen. Finally, I was able to breathe properly again.

"Remind me not to piss you off again," I said, rubbing my sore neck.
He held out his hand, and I took it. "Yeah, make that a lesson learned. You know we don't respond well to threats."

Oh, yeah. I forgot that we are one of the same. Just... great.

As I was now on my feet, I didn't waste time to continue where we left off. "Now, why am I not an ordinary Alerian?"

He sighed. "Bryson, you were meant to save Reagan."