Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3) (27 page)

             
“Sabre?” Nick’s voice was wrung out. “Come on, man. You gotta phase.” Sabre just smiled a wan smile and shook his head again. “Please,” Nick choked out. “Promise me you’ll come back.” But both of us knew, Sabre was calling it quits.

             
“I’m—over the edge,” he gasped. “Rephaim is calling me—to submit.”

             
“No,” Nick’s denial was only half-hearted. We both knew the call to the dark side had finally lured the notorious Sabre James.

             
Sabre struggled to find breath, pushed to form words through the spume of blood in his throat. “I’ve—stayed—so you won’t—be alone.” His chocolate eyes shifted to me. “Now—you won’t—be alone.” His cold fingers groped for my hand and I clutched his hand between mine.

             
“Sabre, please…” I implored. But all he did was smile.

             
“Make—sure…” Sabre wheezed. “Make sure—destroy—the body.”

             
“I know,” Nick said. The sound of his heart breaking crackled in his voice.

             
“Take—care—of the girl. She—is a—treasure—a gift to the Caphar.”

             
Nick glanced up at me. Our eyes met in understanding and union. “I know,” he said as much to me as to his mentor. His gaze dropped back to his friend. “Sabre. Please…”

             
Sabre shook his head. “No. I’m tired.” Exhaustion thinned his voice. But it wasn’t just from this battle or this year’s battles, but the battles of a lifetime. A lifetime not so long in Caphar years. But to a human, a lifetime of two hundred sixty or more years. His dark eyes gazed longingly into the distance. “She waits. My Rose. She waits.”

             
I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped them with my arms. I shivered, though I didn’t think it had much to do with the cool night air. Nick tore his gaze from Sabre’s face and scanned the goose bumps erupting on my skin.

             
“Emi, honey. Go inside. Get one of my shirts,” Nick commanded softly.

             
Not even a hint of anger or rebellion stirred within me. I wondered if he wanted a moment alone with his friend. I nodded and phased into the warmth of his bedroom. I rummaged through his drawers, found a fresh folded shirt and pressed the soft fabric to my face. His clothes smelled of pine trees, fresh summer air and sunshine, such an overwhelming comfort to my tattered heart. But when I pulled it away, it was covered in splotches of red that must have been on my face. Sabre’s blood. My stomach soured as the coppery scent filled my nostrils. There’d been far too much blood lately. It was time for the bloodshed to stop. This was not a norm I wanted to get accustomed to.

             
I didn’t want to take the time to wash, but dabbed the worst of it off with a washcloth. I needed to get back to Sabre. Back to Nick. Back to the chaos my life had become. Maybe tonight this would all end. I pulled on Nick’s shirt that hung halfway to my knees and phased from the house. Nick was just stuffing a crystalline phial into his hip pocket as I dropped to my knees beside them.

             
“How is he?” I asked, even though I already knew. I knew even before I phased away to the house—even before this battle began. Prescience was not feeling much like a gift at the moment. Nick just shook his head. “Will he come back?” But I knew the answer to that one, too.

             
“No. Not this time…” Nick folded himself over the limp body of his mentor, his friend, and wept. My own grief doubled as I watched his body racked in mourning and loss. I scooted up closer beside him and wrapped my arms around them both. Nick pressed his wet, sorrow-fevered cheek to my chest. With trembling fingers, I brushed Sabre’s hair away from his closed eyes.

             
“I’m so sorry, Nick. This is all my fault.”

             
“Don’t,” he said, without lifting his eyes to mine. “This was his sacrifice to make. Understand?”

             
“As you wish,” I whispered.

             
“No, Em. Not as I wish. It is what it is.”

             
“I tased him, Nick. I didn’t mean to. It just happened so fast. What if I hadn’t? What if I hampered his abilities? What if he’d still be here if I hadn’t been so stupid?”

             
“You’ll never answer those ‘what if’s’, honey,” he said and finally looked into my eyes. “This has been a long time in coming. And this, as much as we may abhor it, is his choice.”
Nick and his damned choices.
But, he was right. None of this was on me. And Sabre wouldn’t want me to feel guilty over a choice he made for himself. “He loved you, you know.”

             
I barked a quiet laugh. “Seriously? I thought he barely tolerated me.”

             
Nick nuzzled my hair. “Seriously.”

             
I smiled inwardly.
Well, who would’ve thunk it? The great Sabre James, the ass, had a heart.
I cringed, hoping the thought didn’t spill into Nick. The puff of a morose chuckle lifted his chest. “Oh god. I’m sorry, Nick.”

             
“If anyone knows how big of an ass he is—was, it’s me,” he said through a grim smile.

             
I petted Nick’s hair as he lowered his head against my chest and pressed a kiss to his temple. I’d never seen him this lost, like a scared, lost little boy. We sat in silence, Sabre in Nick’s arms and Nick in mine, listening to the night. Crickets thrummed, a breeze tickled the tall Ponderosas, and the sky grew as dark as Nick’s sad eyes.

Chapter 34 
Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

              Nick and I worked in silence as we dragged the bodies into the garage. Pulling on skills I’d learned from him and his mentor, I wove a memory into Molly’s mind. As far as she was concerned, none of this incident happened. There was no memory in her mind of her having radioed in that she was coming here, so it was a simple fix to send her on her way, none the wiser. No harm. No foul.

             
I wanted to ask Nick if he was okay, but I knew he wasn’t and probably wouldn’t be for a very long time. I stopped often to rub his arm or the small of his back. And just as often he swept his arms around me and pressed me to his chest. I nuzzled against his warmth, not simply as consolation for both of us, but because it truly was the safest place on Earth.

             
He unceremoniously flipped the lid off a giant metal vat and let it clatter to the floor.

             
Nick. I don’t think I can do this.

             
It’s okay, honey. I got it.

             
Just as callously, he lugged Thomas’ wilted body to the rim, heaved it over the side and slid it slowly into the murky, coffee-colored liquid. Part of me wanted to turn away, but a bigger part needed to see the nightmare sink into dark depths of the caustic lye. I needed to know, without a doubt, that this Wraith was
never
going to haunt me again.

Thomas’ hand suddenly breaks the surface of the churning liquid and claws Nick into the lye bath with him…

Shadows of night terrors danced through my mind. The images stole my breath.

             
It’s not real.

             
Nick slid the lid back over the vat and broke the images in my head—one final nightmare from Thomas, the Rephaim, the Nightmare Wraith, even in death. Nick hammered the lid back on the drum and dropped the mallet back on Sabre’s workbench with a clatter.
It’s over. The nightmare is over.

             
“We can’t do that to Sabre.” The knot in my throat choked me.

             
“No. Time will take him.”

             
“So—we don’t just automatically come back?”

             
Nick shook his head. “No. Not all the time.” My lessons on all-things-Caphar continued as he plowed on despite his grief. “If a Caphar dies—and chooses not to return, it’s the same as when the body is destroyed beyond repair. Time just catches up all at once when the first forty-eight hours are over.” He pressed his warm lips to my forehead, released me and crossed the garage to a very coffin-esque box in the corner. He lifted the lid with solemn reverence and turned back to Sabre’s body laying on the floor. “Will you help me?”

             
I knew he didn’t really need my help, he was strong enough all on his own. But we both wanted to honor Sabre—his body, his memory, his life. We lifted him between us, shuffled over to the box and laid him with devout care upon the metal grate.

             
“What if he changes his mind? Before the forty-eight hours is over?” A note of desperate hope eked into my voice.

             
“He won’t.”

             
“But if he did…”

             
“That’s why we opt for time over lye. We’ve removed Thomas’ options. Sabre could still return to his body. But he won’t.” Nick gave Sabre’s shoulder a loving squeeze and brushed his dark hair out of his face. He stared down at his friend, his eyes darker and harder than I’d ever seen them.

             
“Why the grate?” I asked of the metal mesh we laid Sabre on.

             
“When time catches up all at once, it only takes moments for the body to turn to dust. Under the mesh is a big—funnel, I guess. Gravity takes the remains into a container underneath so they can be disposed of.”

             
I slid over to his side and hugged his arm to me. His fingers interlaced with mine as I rested my head on his shoulder.

             
“I’m so sorry, Nick.” His body stiffened and I backpedaled. “I don’t mean…”

             
“I know what you mean.” He lowered the lid slowly over the body of his friend, then stood and stared at it for several long moments.

             
I tugged his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” Nick shambled along beside me as I led him into Sabre’s home. I seated him in front of the fireplace and turned on the flames, then poured us a couple of shots something warm and strong from Sabre’s liquor cabinet. As I headed for the living room, drinks in hand, I noticed an envelope with Nick’s name scrawled across the front. I tucked it under my arm and stepped down into the sunken living room. Nick accepted the drink with a weak smile. He really wasn’t prone to drinking. That was more my thing. Then, I handed him the envelope and cuddled up beside him. He stared at it for several minutes. The flames danced in his eyes and the amber liquid in his glass.

             
“You knew,” he accused quietly.

             
“No. I didn’t
know
. I saw—something—I wanted to believe it was only my imagination running away with me—or Thomas.”

             
“He knew, too. Didn’t he? That’s why you were so upset the other day. That’s why he was speaking in French to you and blocking me.”

             
I wanted to deny it, but now, it was time to tell him the truth. “Yes. He asked me not to tell you. He was afraid it would distract you during the fight. No matter what happened to him, he wanted you to live.”

             
He drew in deep, stretched breaths and stared at the flames. After several moment’s silence, while I sat shivering, despite the proximity of his body to mine, and every nerve fired with tension, he handed me the envelope. Sparks of memories slashed up my arm. The entire contents of the envelope, written in Sabre’s scrawling penmanship and with so much passion it felt written in blood.

             
The tension in Nick’s body finally dissolved as the warmth of the liquor spread through his veins. I wrapped my arms around him like a shroud of safety. My fingertips grazed the lines of sorrow on his beautiful face, and I wished for Emma’s powers to heal—wished above everything I could soften the pain inside him. Our conjoined grief imbued the air around us like summer dew. It saturated our skin, and wrung our tattered hearts together. The fire cavorted in the grate, the heat searing across our cheeks. We watched until our eyes grew dry and heavy, and our minds and hearts succumbed to the thrall of the flames.

Chapter 3
5  (So Much for…) My Happy Ending

              Nick and I stood on the terrace of our San Diego hotel room overlooking the glimmering Pacific Ocean. The baby powder sky, with soft pink and blue wisps of clouds, reflected in the water. A thumbnail moon hung low over the horizon. City lights glimmered on the tumbling waves that lapped quietly at the shore. My head still floated with concert-buzz—the natural high from adrenalin-filled music played raucous and loud, and topped with a little bangover buzz too. It was the first time since Sabre’s death that we’d found a few hours to forget our pain.

             
His arms were safe and warm wrapped around me. My body pressed to his for warmth against the chilly breeze that wafted off the ocean. Contentment rolled off Nick like the waves on the beach. Their kinetic energy stirred something deep on the inside of me. Was it concert-buzz muddling my head? Or were these feelings for him genuine?

Could I truly
forget his betrayal, his deception, his lies?

             
“Nick?” I said, just as he was saying ‘Em?’

             
We laughed.

             
“You go,” I offered.

             
His smile was warm, and sad—and a little hesitant. He framed my face with his hands and stroked my cheeks with his thumbs. My heart thrummed and my head swooned with an intoxication I couldn’t name, an intoxication I’d only felt once before in my life—with him. He bent down and ever so gently pressed a wisp of a kiss to my lips. His forehead pressed to mine and he moaned softly, “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

             
Of its own accord, my mouth twitched up in a smile.               “That was nice,” I told him, but a tremor of fear quivered in my belly. I hoped he didn’t notice, but the pinch of his mouth confirmed my fears.

             
“I understand—if you can’t trust me—if you can’t ever trust me. I could only ask for the chance to prove myself to you.”
You are my destiny.
He winced. He knew I heard the thought. Again, he pressed his mouth to mine, and kissed me like his last breath, like that single draught of air must last the rest of his days.
Please. Can we just start over?
My heart twisted at the desperation within him. I pulled his hands away from my face, held them between us and stepped away from him. Pain corrugated his brow.

             
“Do you remember what I said to you while I was recovering from totaling the T-bird?” There wasn’t really a way for him to forget with a Dream Weaver’s eidetic memory. It was a figure of speech that didn’t apply, but old habits die hard.

             
“Yes.” His voice was wispy soft and hesitant.

             
I flashed him a playful, encouraging smile. Maybe I was ready for this—maybe.

             
“I’m going to go to the down to the lobby for a coffee. There’s an all-night trolley down there that has amoretto.”

             
One of his eyebrows cocked up. “Are you coming back?” He knew all I had to do was phase my way home, or anywhere else in the world I wanted to be.

             
“Should I come back?”

             
“Yes…please.”

             
I nodded, then retrieved my debit card from my purse, stuffed it in the back pocket of my tattered rocker chick jeans and left the room without a glance behind me.

             
The sweet warm flavor the amoretto breve was familiar and soothing. The cool ocean breeze tugged at my hair as I leaned on the patio rail and stared out over the sparkling black waters of Mission Bay and contemplated all that happened, all that Nick was to me.

             
Nickolas Benedetti, the Dream Weaver. He’d been my saviour, my source. He’d been my friend, and my foe. He’d poured out the honesty of his heart, and broke mine with his betrayal. I didn’t believe much in destiny, or predestination. But somewhere deep inside me, maybe the part that some people call the spirit, I felt a connection I couldn’t deny. With all that had happened, was I able to look beyond it and give him a fighting chance? Could I look beyond my own fears of abandonment and even hope that I’d have him forever? If I did offer him a second chance, could I take things slow—really get to know him, as a person—and not my knight in shining armor? Perhaps it truly was time for Emari Jewel Sweet to grow up—to start acting like grownup. But even now, amidst all my inner turmoil, part of me wanted him—wanted him so much it took my breath away.

*          *          *

              My fingers curled and I clenched my trembling hand into a fist. With a deep inhale of bracing breath, I lifted my hand and rapped twice on the door, then let my hand fall with soft smack to my side. Nick opened the door, a tentative, relieved smile spread across his face.

             
“Hey,” he said softly.

             
“Hey back. Um—hi,” I said and extended my hand. “I’m Emari Sweet.”

             
The corners of his mouth twisted higher and he shook my hand. “Hi Emari. I’m Nick.” He stood staring hopefully at me. “Would you like to come in?” But he didn’t wait for my response. He pulled me into the room, shut the door behind me and crushed me in his arms. I backed him to the entryway wall and pressed his back against it. My mouth found his, searing with heat and passion. I meant to take things slow—but his lips blazed a trail down my throat and back up to my mouth. I wanted this, wanted him. I pulled back and his forehead pressed to mine. His breaths, quick and shallow.

             
“Slow down…” My lips said, mostly to myself, but then, as if starved for his, I pressed up on my tip toes to reach his mouth again. Nothing else in world existed in those long heated moments. Just me and Nick and a broiling desire that had consumed each of us. His arms snaked around me and crushed my body to his. His breaths panted in my ear as I traced the lean, ropey muscles of his back with my fingertips.

             
But there was one thing I’d never told him. One thing I thought he should know—before…I stepped back from his embrace but his fingers hooked the loops of my jeans and held me close. “Nick…I…” My eyes darted over his face, searching for a safe place.

             
“What is it, honey?” He thumbed the tension in my cheek. I nuzzled against his palm and closed my eyes. I didn’t want him to see the fear behind them. “Emi, honey, what’s wrong?”

             
“I’ve—never—” I stammered, and cast a glance at the bed as a finish to the sentence.

             
Nick’s mouth turned down and canyons cleaved his brow. “Never?”

             
I shook my head. “Except…”

             
“No,” he growled, then softened his voice. “Em, that’s not even close to the same thing.”

             
“I know. It’s just…I thought you knew, that you read it in my memories…”

             
“No,” he said again, gentler this time. “Remember, memories are compartmentalized. I wouldn’t—I didn’t invade that personal part of your mind.” Nick searched my face for the message I was conveying. “Are you frightened?”

             
“No…Yes…I don’t know.”

             
He smirked. “That wasn’t a little convoluted.”

             
“I guess…I’m just a bit overwhelmed at the moment.”

             
Nick pressed his forehead to mine. “We can stop. I don’t want you to be frightened.” He backed away but I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back against me.

             
“I don’t want to stop. I’m just—afraid something will trigger the memories.”

             
He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my ear. “How ‘bout we take this one step at a time? Promise you’ll tell me if you’re frightened.”

             
“’kay.”

             
Cradling my cheeks in his palms, he lifted my face to his. “Emari. You know I love you, right?” I nodded, and his mouth pressed gently to mine. After half an eternity kissing him, he swept me up in arms and stepped toward the bed. But he froze after the first step. “Are you frightened now?”

             
“No,” I sighed and cuddled against his thermal chest.

             
Like a fragile porcelain doll, Nick lowered my body to the bed, and crawled in beside me. He hovered over me, and reminded me of our visit to the South Pacific beach with sugar white sand and azure waves. I remembered the heat that left a mantle of sweat over my skin as he gazed down into my eyes. His fingers trailed across my brow, traced my jaw line, trembled on my lips. His eyes searched mine for any sign of fear.

             
“I’ll tell you. I promise.”

*          *          *

              Sunlight poured onto the bed and a warm ocean breeze drifted across my bare skin. Nick’s warm chest pillowed my head and his fingers tickled a trail along the small of my back. My fingers traced the sinewy contours of his arm and I reveled at the sensation of his skin pressed to mine.

             
All I wanted since all of this began—since that horrific day that State Troopers came to my door to announce my parent’s deaths—was for everything to return to normal. Now, I was beginning to see that ‘normal’ didn’t exist for me anymore. Maybe this, laying in Nick’s arms with the brine of the ocean caressing our skin…maybe this was as close to normal as I was ever going to get.

             
Nick raked the hair away from my face and kissed the top of my head. Maybe this was the new normal.

              I could get used to it.