Gypsy Magic - J.R. Rain Page 0,16

Another of him with longer hair and he was surrounded by three older women—maybe family members? And one more of him standing in front of his hearse, wearing another weird shirt, no doubt another of his marketing creations. But it was the picture of him in a tux that attracted my attention the most. Yep, he was cute. Strange, yes, certainly dorky, extremely friendly and possibly… sexy?

“Guess who’s on Match?” I asked Finn.

“Who?” he answered, not bothering to look up from his game.

“McFly.”

Finn nodded. “Cool. You should go out with him.”

I eyed him. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“I have a good feeling about him.”

A tense knot of... something... eased in my back. If Finn trusted Marty, maybe I could too?

After another second, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. It wasn’t a number I recognized.

Hey, it’s McFly, the text read. Thanks for giving me your number. Just wanted you to have mine.

Got it, I typed back. And saved you to my contacts.

Cool! BTW, did I just see you on Match?

***

My body felt... wrong.

Different.

I felt like I was crouching on my knees, or my center of gravity had shifted. I opened my eyes and looked down at myself, only to find I was wearing a vivid yellow pinstripe dress-shirt with a matching tie patterned with little, green clovers. Neither were mine. Below the shirt, I wore dark slacks, buffed leather shoes, and a waistcoat. A man’s waistcoat. A beer gut I didn’t ordinarily possess strained the fabric and the buttons.

I raised my hands to my face and traced a line of stubble.

What the...

I was a man. But, how was this possible?

That was when I realized I was dreaming. One of those strange, body-swapping dreams.

I took a glance around the room and it felt somehow... familiar, though I’d never set foot in this place before.

The walls were painted a light sage, the large couch and matching chair also a variance of green. Even the gingham curtains were green.

Gingham.

Dread zipped down my spine, like death itself was playing me like a xylophone.

No, this couldn’t be happening. Not again!

I hadn’t put any potions in the diffuser. I hadn’t anointed myself with anything. Usually I didn’t dream! So, how could I be dreaming this nightmare again? And why?

Something creaked in the hallway, and the body I was currently sharing was slow to turn. The man was tired. Bone-weary, like he’d been moving heavy things all day and just couldn’t force himself to budge another inch. He nearly jumped out of his skin though when a shape appeared in the doorway.

It was monstrously large and dark, looking like a shadow as it entered the room. But as the man (and I) watched, the shadows began to delineate themselves into lines and the lines formed the shape of something… hideous.

Its shoulders were wide enough that it had to slant its body sideways and stoop to enter the room. Even in the darkness (the gingham curtains were drawn to keep away the light from a street lamp just outside), I could see the immense size of the beast and the breadth of its chest. A slice of the night sky was visible through the curtains, curtains that danced in the breeze from the open window, fluttering as though nothing was the matter.

The creature had russet fur, and, in the low light, I could see ribs standing out against the dark skin of its belly. It looked emaciated, bony, despite its immense size. Something scraped the ceiling as it moved toward us. I glanced up, and in the brief flickering from the light of the street, I could see a massive pair of horns.

It was the same creature from the graveyard. The same creature from my last nightmare.

“Time to wake up,” the creature said—it was the same thing it said the first time I had the nightmare. But, this time, the voice wasn’t deep and monstrous. Instead, the words came out jarring and shrill, like talons raked across a chalkboard. Goosebumps strained at my skin. My eyes burned. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t even breathe.

“No,” the man said, and I felt my mouth open along with his.

“Give me what you promised!” the thing yelled, voice now a deep growl.

“I promised you nothing!” the man yelled at it.

And then the thing was on me, us, throwing one clawed hand through the air toward us.

It didn’t make contact.

Before the thing could strike, the tightness in my chest increased, like a band being pulled taught. A pain shot through my