He dreamt of chains.
How many nights had passed since Eirik had began having the same dream he could no longer tell.
Eirik had been experienced these dreams months apart in the beginning sometimes even weeks but now they frequented even more.
He was always in a dungeon, a prison of sorts as he had come to conclude.
The air was thick here not just with dust and rot but with sorrow as well, the weight of it suffocating.
He could never move as iron chains carved with runes that bound him in place.
A muzzle stained with rust and dried filth sealed his jaw shut while his body was caked with grime his muscles aching from the stillness.
Though it was a dream his thoughts were not his own, his was never in control of his actions here nor of the events that took place.
He could hear the scraping of chains in the distance. The murmurs of others prisoners like him he believed spoko in languages he did not recognise which he always found to be weird.
How could he dream of a language he had never heard?
Some cried and some sung, while others muttered nonsense through the darkness like curses. He had never seen any of them, but he knew for sure like him, they were prisoners.
Buried and imprisoned in a place he believed long forgotten to time, and always in towards the end came the footsteps.
Boots echoing on stone and then a sudden light, harsh and blinding.
The door to his cell creaked open but he didn't look up, he never could as all he ever saw were the shadows and the boots of those who always came to torment him.
Then came the pain. Aboot to his ribs, a blow to his skull. Always the same, always brutal, always unjust and without reason.
Then the beating began.
He didn't scream he couldn't. The muzzle made sure of that but something inside him had snapped long ago. He had vowed to never let his tormentors have any satisfaction.
Another blow landed but thos time to the side of his skull and then he woke….
Eirik shot upright in bed his chest heaving as sweat clinged to his bare skin. His heart thundered as his eyes scanned the stone walls of his bedroom chamber, his blankets were tangled in a mess around him.
His sheets were soaked, drenched in sweat and his hand trembled as he wiped his face.
Again...
The same dream, the same cell, he had no memory of when it began. It was a curse that greeted him night after night, as constant as the moon rose and fell in the night's sky.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with one hand while the other dragged back through midnight black hair which was damp at the roots.
His eyes a piercing blue gleamed faintly in the low morning light that filtered through the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse apartment.
He stared at his palms and saw faint crescent shaped scars that now marked his skin where his claws must have had dug in during sleep. Phantom pain clenched in his lower jaw where he had received a blow.
Outside his apartment the skyline of Geneva stretched wide and far in mist with the Alps towering in the background like sleeping giants. It was a quiet city by human standards.
To the human world Eirik Vollen was a wealthy man beyond measure. He owned property and companies in multiple countries across the globe and drove vehicles that turned heads and a name that passed quietly through elite circles.
But in his world wealth was measured differently.
Vampires, Witches, Lykans, Shapeshifters and many other Velari were immortal powerful supernatural beings that had walked the earth since ancient times.
Some had been monarchs who had reigned over mortals, others collectors hoarding art and relics as empires rose and fell, for time was their inheritance.
So no, Eirik was not considered wealthy in his world for wealth was power. He may have been comfortable but he was no man of influence.
Atleast not yet.
The buzz of his phone cut through the silence of his apartment. He reached for it from the nightstand, not bothering to check the caller ID. Only one person ever called him this early.
He pressed the phone to his ear.
"Tariq"
"You sound like you didn't sleep well" came the familiar deep voice.
Eirik swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. He was tall, easily six foot five with a frame built from discipline and hard work.
"I didn't" he replied, walking towards the wide marble bathroom. "Just had the same dream again"
A pause on the other end " The cell?"
Eirik exhaled slowly as his jaw tightened."The same one"
There was a long silence, filled by the sound of Eirik brushing back curtains and letting the morning light spill in.
"I doubt it's just a dream Eirik" Tariq said eventually "And we both know it. You've got to see someone"
Eirik didn't respond, instead he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the cold water, splashing it over his face over the sink. He stared into the mirror, droplets clinging to his lashes. For all his power for all the strength he had bled to earn, he still could not fight the shadows that clung to his soul.
"What's going on" he asked grabbing a towel changing topics.
"You free?" Came the reply.
Eirik sighed "Define free"
"I need you to meet me in person"
Eirik paused, Tariq wasn't one for dramatics when it came to important matters. If he couldn't say it over the phone, it meant it was serious.
"Where?" he asked.
"That little café in old town. The one with the chessboard tables"
"You're in Geneva?" Eirik asked.
"Just landed" came the reply.
"Time?"
"Now"
"Tariq....."
"They asked for us specifically" Tariq said.
Eirik's eyes narrowed at that "The both of us?" he asked.
"My exact reaction" he replied " See you soon" The line went dead.
Eirik stood there for a moment staring at the window, at the centuries old rooftops layered like slate armor across the city.
Half an hour later Eirik was in front of the café. It was tucked along a narrow side street in Geneva's Old Town, Its wrought iron sign creaking faintly in the breeze. It was the kind of place that smelled of dark roasted coffee and aged wood.
Eirik stepped inside.
Light filtered through stained glass, windows casting muted colors across the wooden floor. He scanned the room once and spotted Tariq seated near the back of the café, calm as ever.
Tariq, an Sub Saharan Arican man with bronze like skin that seemed to glow under each time he stepped into the sun.
Across his skin were ancient runes twisted in ink. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown Eirik had ever seen, nearly golden at the edges.
He had long dark locks that were twisted and adorned with golden bands that matched the ones encircling his wrists.
Tariq always dressed sharp. Today he wore a crisp white shirt with black trousers with boots polished to a mirror finish.
He wore two rings on his left hand, one a matte black ring on his ring finger, the other an iron band hued with silver on his fore finger. Like Eirik, Tariq was an immortal being called a Velari but unlike him he was a Witch.
"You're late" Tariq said a half smirk playing on his lips.
Eirik took off his coat and slipped into a seat as Tariq pushed a cup of coffee across the table.
Eirik nodded in thanks and took a sip. "I'm listening" he said.
Tariq's smile dropped all business now. "We've been requested for a transport job" he said.
Eirik scoffed."Then forward it to Selene, she'll assign the proper team. We don't waste time with cargo runs"
"Like I said earlier, they asked for us specifically. Meaning they want both of us on the job"
Eirik stilled the cup paused mid air.
"Specifically us?" he asked.
Tariq nodded."Specifically"
Eirik set his cup down. "That's rare"
"Indeed" Tariq said " They must be willing to spend a lot of money if they requested the both of us, especially if its just for a transport job."
"Forget that, I'm more interested in knowing what this cargo is that we are supposed to be transporting. Must be very valuable indeed if they want us on the job, got any details?"
"None" Tariq replied. "Just a time and location, we are to be briefed on site"
"What else?" Eirik asked.
"That's all I got. I ran it past every network we could trust, it came back clean"
Eirik and Tariq had earned their reputation over the years. They had escorted dignitaries across war torn borders, retrieved artifacts that had not seen the sun in Millennia.
To the mortals they provided the best security the world had to offer but to the Velari they were much more.
"If they want us then they'll have us" Eirik replied standing. Tariq stood too, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt with a smooth motion.
"Good, I'll send the coordinates for the pick up point. We'll meet up there tonight"
Eirik reached for his coat. "Time?" he asked.
"Midnight, gives us enough time to prep"
Eirik nodded "Fine by me"
They steeped out into the morning chill.
"I'll see you tonight then" Eirik said slipping his hands into his pockets.
"Try not to be late this time" Tariq said a grin tugging at his lips.
"I'm never late" he replied " You're just always early"
Tariq smiled at that and then they parted ways.