Vampire "Unseen" (Vampire "Untitled" Trilogy Book 2) by Lee McGeorge Read Free Book Online Page B

brain seemed to assimilate the whole thing as truth. His dreams had always been vivid and lifelike, but of late they had become troubling and confusing. Somehow he felt he’d lost the ability to tell fact from sleeping fiction.
    The most vivid dream was of fighting a policeman after attacking the kids in the park yesterday. The boy was unconscious on the ground and the girl was gasping for breath, the gardener was coming to help and using his mobile phone. As he ran from the scene he’d been confronted by a passing police constable. They’d scuffled. The policeman had tried to use restraining moves on him but he’d escaped using brute force. He had an enduring image of the policeman on the floor with blood rushing from the bridge of his nose after stomping on his face... But that couldn’t be true. He had no memory of that detail as actually happening, yet everything else in the dream was perfectly remembered from the real event.
    It was a worry.
    This is what had happened in Romania. Dreams that felt real, reality that felt like a dream. A soft merging of truth and fantasy that were impossible to separate. In Romania it had gotten so bad that he managed to convince himself that Ildico had given him a blowjob and then dreamed of a vampire killing her. Then he convinced himself that he’d dreamed the blowjob and killed her himself. In the end he discovered that none of those things had happened... or had they? Were any of those things true? His memories were untrustworthy. His ability to create new memories was compromised. This was the sickness that he had to control and defeat. Crazy memories. Crazy dreams. Crazy behaviour.
    He avoided walking through Ravenscourt Park but passed the area where he’d dreamed of stomping on the policeman just to check for any residual evidence. A blood spot on the ground, or perhaps a detail of the environment incongruent with the dream.
    There was nothing to see.
    He decided to declare the policeman attack a dream. He had definitely attacked the boy and girl and he had definitely escaped without attacking a policeman... probably... at least he suspected he had.
    It was stupid returning to the place of this particular crime. It was a compulsion. A mental pressure to make sense of the world. He had to put things right. He had to get a grip on his own mind.
    He walked along the edge of the park to Goldhawk Road looking at the faces of people riding busses. These were the first wave of commuters heading to work. The hotel clerks and cleaners beginning work on a seven o’clock shift. They looked blank, almost like shop mannequins arranged to ride the bus.
    He made it to Askew Road.
    HOLY FUCK...
    What the hell was he doing?
    He knew what he was doing. He’d wandered here subconsciously, but why hadn’t his conscious mind woken up and stopped him? He was standing on the corner of the road where Nisha Khumari lived.
    What the hell?
    He had got out of bed in the middle of the night and against his better judgement, travelled to an area of town where he may be recognised. Only now did he realise precisely where his unthinking navigation had decided to bring him.
    His mouth went dry and his heart beat faster. She was down there. Her road was a very long straight row of Victorian terraced homes. She lived a few hundred yards down... on the right... with a green front door with frosted glass...
    “Oh Jesus, Paul... what the fuck are you doing here?” he whispered to himself. “Turn around. Get out of here.”
    His feet remained rooted to the spot. He wanted to go down there and look at her home. He wanted to be outside and see a light switch on from a bedroom window. That was what he wanted whilst standing here, but what would he want when he got there? Would he want to go inside the house? Would he want to hurt her?
    Of course he wanted to hurt her.
    “You’re supposed to be hiding, Paul. This is stupid.” His heart was beating so fast he felt faint. With the last ounce of his sanity he