Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3) (10 page)

Chapter 13
  When You’re Gone

              Huddled on a blanket on the hardwood floor of the cottage with Eddyson, I continued to fume over the Weaver’s deceptions. But the texture of Eddy’s soft fur under my fingertips soothed the rage in my heart until I could fully take in what Sabre had told me. Not only did I retain my father’s memories, but my mother’s as well. She felt so far away from me now. And I needed her more now than ever. How was I supposed to sort out these feelings that swung from cold to hot in an instant? Should I ever trust this man—these men, ever again? How did I make the passion for him go away if I decided to cut him out of my life?

             
My hand came to a standstill on Eddy’s coat as my thoughts drifted. But the boy was sound asleep and wouldn’t notice if the house fell down. Or maybe a Wraith came calling. I rolled to my back and stared at the dark wood built-ins that separated the living and dining rooms. My mother helped me strip the old varnish off, and re-stain and seal them. I didn’t need to touch the shining wood to pull on the memories of us together for many long hours, laughing and talking and sharing our lives. Until this moment, I’d thought they were completely gone from me. But now I knew, I held their memories in my heart and mind. I reached deep inside myself to stroke the memories of them to life.

             
She is so young. Younger even than I am now. She and Daddy lay on a blanket in a park. The sun leaves its kiss upon her cheeks. The breeze toys with the wisps of her fine strawberry blonde hair. They’d just run off to get married, even though they are little more than children. But she knows that he is the one for her. She just knows. They listen to Elvis on a transistor radio and leap to their feet to dance the ‘Jail House Rock’ atop the blanket. They fall together in giggles at the finish of the song and gaze with smiling eyes at each other.

              She leans back into a nursery rocker, a soft pink blanket bundled in her arms, feeding a wriggling babe who insists her leg be propped over the crook of her mother’s arm. She smiles and gazes down at me as though I’m a miracle. And in her heart, I am. The green of her own eyes reflect in mine, her same strawberry blonde hair whorls in a wispy halo around my head. Such profound love radiates from her smile.

              Cool, textured linoleum chills her knees as she holds my pudgy hands to keep me balanced. Daddy sits a few feet away coaxing me with outstretched arms. Her hands hover ever near, even when I boldly release them and toddle my first steps into the arms of my father. She stands, clapping and smiling and telling me what a good girl I am, how smart, how brave.

              I didn’t feel brave anymore as tears rolled down my face.
Will I ever stop crying over them? Does it mean I’m forgetting them if I don’t cry? Will I ever feel normal without them? Yeah, not sure normal and Emari Sweet are synonymous.
I swatted at the tears. These weren’t necessarily sad tears. Some of them were happy. Happy to know the love she held for me. How I’d been such an answer to prayer for her. How proud she’d always been of me even for the smallest things.

             
Sabre’s words drifted back through me.
I helped him gather some memories of stuff he wanted you to know.
What else did my father want me to know? I delved into my memories, rabidly searching for anything that seemed out of place. Suddenly, my father’s words caressed my mind.

             
Follow the map.

             
The map I’d found behind the old mirror that he’d left for me to find? I tugged on the ingrained image of the scribbled map on brittle yellowed paper and followed the tug of my father’s instructions down to the hidden room Nick and I discovered in the basement. Ari thrummed against my chest and I pressed my palm over her pulsing body.

              ‘
So. You’ve found my memories at last, have you?’ My father’s voice speaks straight from my mind.

             
‘Yes, Daddy.’

             
‘We’ve left you some treasures to remember us by. But there are secrets hidden within you as well,’ he says without preamble.

             
‘What kinds of secrets?’ I am again a child of four, wide-eyed and full of questions.

             
‘Wonderful secrets. And dangerous secrets. And I would ask you not to seek them all out at once. There is time, plenty of time to unearth them.’

             
‘How will I find them?’

             
‘As you find any memory. Set your mind to the answer and it will reveal itself to you. What do you want, above all else, to know?’

             
I think for a moment. About how much I wish ‘normal’ could return to my life. I want to ask, ‘how do I destroy Thomas? Once and for all?’ But I already possess the knowledge to kill the Rephaim. I want to ask how to survive without him and Mom, but I’m surviving, already. Finally I say, ‘I want the truth of all of my memories restored to me.’ My mind zings with pulses of electricity as though I can see it arcing from synapse to synapse, neuron to neuron, memory to memory until every sight, smell, taste, sound, sensation and emotion that, in one way or another, had been manipulated, returns whole to me. So many. Many I didn’t even realize were altered: the memory of the jet ski accident as it truly happened, the truth of what Emma became, mind tricks Nick used to dull my grief, the secrets Nick and Sabre wove to hide themselves from me before I knew the truth of what they are, and the secrets they keep even now. The flaring sparks of memories dim like a lamp depleted of fuel.

             
‘I miss you Daddy.’ I feel the tears singing my cheeks.

             
‘We miss you, honey.’

             
‘What else do I need to find in the hidden room? And why is there a hidden room in the first place?’ The 1903 craftsman home was moved from its original foundation on the South Hill to this location in Mead in 1963. Over fifty years it’s stood on this spot.

             
‘Nick and Sabre are not the only Caphar who entered our lives. The original owner of the cottage, Asa, was Caphar, and he built the room for his secrets. When we moved out here from Spokane, he sensed pre-Caphar abilities in me. He implanted the desire for the house in my mind so he could pass the cottage down to one of his kind.’

             
‘Is that why I fell in love with it, too?’

             
‘No,’ Daddy chuckles. ‘That was purely organic. You’ve found Ari and the magic she possesses. And the crystalline phials for collection of blood.’ I nod, and my father’s memories lead me into the darkest corner of the hidden room. ‘There, in the wall you will find a prophecy of sorts. Where you can see the near future, Asa could see it far off. And he saw a burgeoning, powerful Weaver with abilities beyond what most of them dream of. He saw a Weaver defying the natural laws of their kind. Who teaches the old and young alike how to be more powerful. Who brings down the last of the Rephaim.’

             
‘I don’t want to be some sort of savior!’

             
My father’s chuckle unsettles me. ‘The Caphar need no saving. If they did, they would be Rephaim. You have seen the damage a single Wraith can do in so many lives.’

             
I remember Nick telling me that no Weaver steps into the life of a Wraith without complete knowledge of what he is doing. And once the line is crossed, there is no redemption. ‘So, what about Sabre?’

             
‘Aw, yes. Sabre James, so like his infamous, bank robbing namesake. Did he tell you that’s how he got his surname? From Jessie James?’

             
‘No. But it makes complete sense.’

             
‘That choice is still within his hands.’ Maybe Nick isn’t the only who believes in choices.

             
Tucked in the eaves of the room I find another leather-bound journal like the one from the ash and dust covered box that triggered memories of the eruption of Mount Saint Helens. ‘Are the memories of Mount Saint Helens yours?’

             
‘No. Those were your mother’s.’

             
‘They felt so real, like they were really mine.’ Dad doesn’t answer, just hums in understanding, like he always did when the answer was obvious and nothing more needs to be said. I dust off the cover of the book and press it to my chest. I don’t need to open and read it, the memories and wisdom find my heart all on their own. The darkness of the room ensconces me as I absorb the memories from the ancient journal. I don’t realize my father’s voice has fallen silent until I get up to leave. I trail my fingers through the ash and dust, and memories of the volcano flash into my mind. The presence of my mother is now obvious in them. ‘I miss you Mom.’ The memory of her embrace, warm and sincere, floods my mind, so vivid, so real, my breath catches in my chest.

             
As the memory subsided, I dragged myself back up the stairs and sat beside a snoozing Eddy on the couch, trying to piece together all of the information my mind had absorbed. No wonder Dad cautioned me about learning too much at once. I could never make sense of all this information at one time.

Chapter 14
  Life Ain’t Always Beautiful

              Ivy’s eyes sparkled like the sun dancing on Dead Man’s Creek. If the sun weren’t already out, her smile would’ve lit the day. Eddyson snuffled along the path parallel to the railroad tracks, inhaling the scent of every critter large or small that had ever come this way. I nudged her arm as we walked side by side down the tracks, each balanced on a rail, hands clasped in the center for balance.

             
“So…?” I teased. “What do you think of Officer Molly?”

             
It wasn’t that long ago that Ivy revealed the secret of her orientation. I’d felt like a heel of a friend for not knowing her well enough to see the truth of who she was. I wanted to make it up to her in any way I could, so setting her up with Officer Molly was a no brainer.

             
“Fine,” she said succinctly, though her excitement to spill more twinkled in her eyes and jittered through her tiny lean body.

             
“Aw, no. You know you’re dying for me to hook you two up.”

             
She flipped her hand in a ‘que sera’, whatever wave. “Whatever,” she said.

             
I grabbed her arm and gave it a playful yank that tipped her off balance. She stumbled from the train rail and pulled me off with her. “Don’t play coy with me, little girl! Or I’ll…”
Yeah? Or you’ll what? Dive into her head and make her say yes?
I swore I’d never step over that line with her.

             
“Or what?” she batted her eyes innocently at me, then laced her fingers through mine and hugged my arm to her chest.

             
“Nothing.”

             
“Thanks, Em—for thinking of me.” Her outsides shown with quiet contentment, but inside she roiled with excitement and fear.

             
“Does it make you nervous?”

             
“Yeah. A little. She’s older than us, right?”

             
“Just a little. She’s twenty-three. That’s only five years. That’s okay isn’t it?” I scanned her face for the victor of the emotions bubbling inside her. Ivy was silent. “Ives?”

             
“This is all just so new to me. I mean, I guess I’ve known for a long time about myself. But this will be the first time I’ve actually, you know, been with a girl,” she explained.

             
“Ivy! You don’t have to have sex with her! It’s just a date.”

             
My best friend’s face flushed. “I know. I just…I don’t know. I’ve been denying this thing inside me for so long now, it seems a little bizarre to let it loose.”

             
I elbowed her in the ribs. “I’ll tell her to be extra gentle with you. Have her use the padded handcuffs.”

             
Ivy’s face flooded crimson again. She released my hand as Eddy led us down the deer path toward the creek, but took it up again once we reached the bottom. She jabbered on and on, about school, Jesse—our estranged third dorkateer—and her potential date with Molly. Even after we reached the bank of the creek and Eddy was wading up to his belly and chasing water skippers and frogs, she rambled on. The happiness in her voice filled my heart with warmth. We sat on the bank and stripped off our socks and shoes to wade in the cold water. It didn’t last long though. The water was snow run-off from Mt. Spokane and soon our little feet were blue from the cold. It didn’t seem to bother the beagle boy any, as he rooted and snuffed and dug holes in the creek bed.

             
Ivy continued to regale me with the latest gossip from Shadle Park High as we trundled back up the path toward the railroad tracks. But, Eddyson suddenly stopped, and growled low in his throat. The hackles on his neck and back rose to attention.

             
“What the…” but there was no time for an expletive. Crashing through the underbrush, a mastiff-sized dog came lumbering out of the raccoon path. It bared its giant teeth at Eddy and flattened its ears with a low feral growl. Eddy wasn’t used to other dogs, so his tail oscillated back and forth between his legs, and quivers of excitement shivered through his muscles. The big dog sniffed Eddy’s butt and before I could reel the pup away, he skittered sideways in fear. The big dog seized Eddy by the throat, and shook him like a rag doll. The leash ripped from my hands, and Ivy and I stood there for the briefest moment frozen in shock.

             
“Stop! Stop! Let go! Goddammit!” I hit the dog, but he took a swipe at me with his teeth and I jumped away. Blood smeared Eddy’s white chest and the big dog returned to shaking him. I had to do something. I had to stop this. A thick branch like a pool cue lay beside the path. I reached down, hoisted it over my head and whacked it down over the dogs back. He turned and snarled at me, but returned his attack on my pup. I raised the branch again and brought it down on his head. This time he skittered away a couple of feet and growled. So I hit him again. And again. And again. Until he finally got the hint, tucked his tail and bolted for the brush. The branch crashed to my feet and I whirled around to find Eddy laying across Ivy’s lap. Deep gashes puckered on his throat and the whole of his white chest turned crimson.

             
“Eddy!” I flung myself to the ground beside them. His eyes implored me to fix it and he whimpered in pain. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” My fingers trembled over his blood soaked pelt. I had to do something. We were a mile away from the house. Over half a mile to the nearest road. He could bleed to death by the time we got him to a car and then to a vet. I turned to Ivy and grabbed her arms, smearing Eddy’s blood on her. “Ivy. I have to get him help.”

             
“‘kay.” Poor Baby. My girl was in shock. The pup would be too soon if I didn’t act quick. Carrying him out was not an option.

             
“Ivy…I have to get him help,” I said again, not sure how to phrase what I was about to say. “Something happened to me back in April. I’ve changed. I’ve changed into something amazing, but I don’t have time to explain it to you right now.” She nodded stiffly. I could always go back and erase the memories once I returned. But I hated to do that, especially to her. “Baby, you’re about to see something that you won’t believe is possible. And I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back to the house.”

             
Nick said I couldn’t phase with another corporeal body in contact with me. But he also said I couldn’t phase away from another Caphar’s hold. Yet I phased away from him that night under the blue spruce. I scooped Eddy up in my arms, hoping with everything in me that this would work. If it didn’t, I’d have to phase out to find someone to help anyway. His head lolled over my elbow, his eyes at half-mast.
God, please make this work.

             
“Ives? Can you make it back to the house?” She nodded, still in shock. “Ives, I need to know you’ll be okay right now or Eddy’s gonna bleed to death.”

             
“Yeah yeah. Sure sure,” she whispered through her daze.

              “I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. Okay? Ivy? Okay?” I was banking on this working. What if it didn’t?

             
Ivy turned away from her blood covered hands. “‘kay…”

             
I had to get Eddy to Emma. She could patch him up in no time.

             
“Ivy? Get a grip! I need you to focus. Take that stick, in case the dog comes back. Go back to my house. Get a shower.” She glanced back at her stained hands as though she was seeing them for the first time. “Ives? I’ll see you at the cottage soon. Okay? I’ll explain everything then. Okay?” She nodded and hauled herself to her feet.

             
“Yeah. Okay,” she whispered.

             
“Okay. I love you Ives. I’ll see you soon.”

             
She nodded again and went to get the stick.

             
“I’ll explain everything when I get back, I promise,” I told her again. Then, with all I was worth, I hugged the pup to my chest, gritted my teeth and phased.