The Mystical Knights: The Sword of Dreams (17 page)

              “She’s not one that we have to watch out for,” Nia muttered, scooping up a tiny ball of dirty snow and rolling it between her palms.  It melted quickly between her hands and dripped between her fingers.  “Zephyrlis is the one I’m worried about.”

              “But—but you just
met
Mrs. Zephyrlis!”  Thor disparaged exasperatedly, gesturing widely with his hands.  “You didn’t even get a chance to touch her hand or anything!”

              “I’m glad I didn’t,” Nia retorted acidly.  She instantly regretted the bitterness that was left in her mouth as her eyes were cast upon Thor’s hurt expression.  “I—I can’t explain it, Thor,” she went on, twisting the sleeves of her shirt.  “I—I saw things...felt things when she walked into the room.  It was like being stuck in two places at once—and she just sucked all the energy out from me.”  Nia held out a trembling hand.  “Look.  See my hand?”  Nia quickly drew her hand away, curling it preciously to her chest and closed her eyes.  It was relieving to shut them; they didn’t feel as if there were ten pound weights pulling them down further anymore.  “I can’t stop shaking...and I’m
so
tired...” 

Last night had been the real kicker; Rowan and Nia had gone out to dinner, but—per usual—they never made it to the restaurant.  Quinn was forced to stay home today after ingesting
Ithaki
venom last night, Kenzie almost had Nia’s foot decapitated after she had selfishly turned her back on a
Raa
minion-thank God for Thor and his lightning strike; Rowan seriously sprained his wrist after a
Serpha
tackled him to the ground and Fiona ended up pitching a tantrum after they allowed a group of
Greys
to disappear into nothing.

“These past couple of sleepless nights have been completely draining on me—I’m not sure if I can handle another nighttime battle at the moment...but trust me when I say she’s bad news, Thor...I just know it.”

              Thor was quiet.  Always the skeptical believer.  Nia lifted one eyelid to peek out at him.  He gave her a crooked smile.  “If you’re sure of it, I’m absolutely certain.”

              Nia gave him a half smile.  “Thanks.”

              Thor chuckled out loud.  “Hey—we all owe you one, especially after you and Rowan continue to skips your little dates for us.  It’s the least
I
can do.”

              Nia rolled her eyes playfully.  “They aren't dates, Thor."  Thor's eyebrows shot up into the middle of his forehead in disbelief.  Nia laughed.  "You know—I was just starting to like you," she teased while raising her index finger and shaking it at her friend smartly.  “You, Jackson, are back to square one.”

              Thor smirked, shaking his head. “Aw, shucks.  And I thought saving your life last night would have redeemed me of my selfish ways for the rest of my life.”

              Nia grinned and whacked him playfully in the chest, breathing in his warm citrusy scent.  “I still thank you for saving my life.  I'll never be able to repay you for that.”

              "Your friendship repays it every day."

* * *

              Nia eagerly took another bite of the trout Sam had cooked up for supper.  If she could continue moving, chewing, blinking, doing
something
constructive for the next couple of hours, then maybe she could stay up long enough to finish her homework.  And have a conference call with Quinn and Fiona—who were supposed to be phoning in very shortly.  But as she tiredly swallowed her fish and scooped up a heaping spoonful of garlic and herb couscous, Nia could hear her bed sheets calling her name.

              The little brown house Nia had stumbled into six weeks earlier (and during every summer and school break), no longer looked like an abandoned storage unit.  New lacy white curtains covered every window, a brand new plushy beige recliner and matching loveseat filled the living room, along with a television that actually stayed on and a whirring computer sat on the old desk in the corner.  Sam had ripped up the carpet and put down some faux wood and Nia had picked out some woven rugs that she had seen at the little country store down on Main Street.  Sam had even acquired a pellet stove when furnace decided to kick the bed the last week of February.  There was even, to Nia’s immense joy, now a tiny front porch with newly acquired patio furniture waiting to be set up within the next few weeks. 

              Sam took a long swig of milk, watching his daughter unrepentantly from across the table.  He slowly placed his glass onto the coaster, smacking his lips thoughtfully as he leaned back in his chair.

              “You alright?” he observed.  “You look exhausted.”

              “Didn’t sleep well,” Nia replied, a little too quickly for Sam's liking.

              “Funny you should mention that...”  Uncomfortably, Sam unfolded and refolded his hands.  Nia watched blearily as he focused his gaze carefully on her face.  “The night before last, as I was watching the nightly news, I could have sworn I saw someone—just about your height—and strangely enough, dressed in
your
pajamas run by that front window.”  He gestured behind him with his thumb pointing towards the larger bay window that was conveniently located beside his recliner.  Nia blinked innocently, giving him a nod to continue even though she was already mentally cursing herself. 
Damnit,
she thought crossly, while trying to keep a straight face,
I knew I should have ran around the back.

Sam continued, staring Nia down across the table as if she was a grazing doe and he was the hunter cornering his prey into a successful trap.  “I thought to myself,
‘Well, that couldn’t be my daughter, running around witlessly at quarter of eleven in the evening,’
so I clicked off the television and went straight to bed—certain I was seeing things, I suppose.”

              This time Nia had to practically swallow back her look of guilt as it washed over her shamefully.  When had her father become so observant?  “And then,” her father carried on, leaning forward in his chair, resting his sturdy elbows on the table, his voice growing more and more doubtful with every word, “when I got up to use the restroom later that morning, I walked past your bedroom and I just happened to—oh, you know—
peek
inside and I must have been dreaming, because there is no way I could have seen
my
daughter climbing in through the window at quarter past three in the morning.”  Sam’s eyebrows shot up past his brow line as he looked Nia over, his dubious chocolate brown eyes raking over her like she was a specimen on a lab table. 

              “Dad.”  Nia placed her fork down on her plate, trying to look as oblivious as she could possibly look.  “Dad—I have no idea what you’re talking—”

              “Don’t lie to me when I am always fully honest with you.”  Sam spoke curtly, his voice soft and light.  His usually kind eyes darkened and there seemed to be more creases visible along his aged face.  “Yesterday night, you came home much later than you had promised, looking as if you had been rolling through fields and thickets.  I am not an idiot; I know what boys and girls do these days—to celebrate anniversaries and such—and let me tell you that six months time is not long at all.”

              "Dad! Rowan and I are just friends,"  Nia began, her fingernails painfully digging into the wooden chair like blunt spoons.  Rowan. Sam had been bringing him up randomly for weeks now.  Yes, they'd shared a few kisses.  Yes, Nia spent most of her free time with him.  But they had yet to seal the deal.  Nia bit her lip and glanced down at her dinner plate.  She wasn't sure who was supposed to make that move at this point.  At times, Rowan was standoffish.  He was constantly dancing around the subject of exclusively dating, and he continued to reel her back in.  And Nia had her doubts too.

              “You're much too young to be giving away so much of your heart.”

Nia looked up at her father and frowned.  His face, weathered and tan from the sun and time, was etched with concern.  His thumb brushed his lip thoughtfully as he leaned forward in his chair.

“Things can happen, Nia.”  Sam's voice was solemn, yet filled with adoration.  “People can change, grow up over time—or sometimes you find out that they weren’t who you thought they were.”

“I know Dad,” Nia protested vigilantly.  “Rowan is an absolute sweetheart—he would never hurt me—”

“Intentionally,” Sam finished offhandedly.  “But we all have the power to hurt one another.  Love is an interesting thing,” Sam smiled regretfully, the dark shadows just above his cheekbones stretching far across his forlorn face.  “It comes just as fast as it goes .”

“But if you truly love someone,” Nia said slowly, carefully choosing her words, “then you just
can’t
stop loving them.”  Nia looked to her father, cocking her head to the side.  “Like how you never stopped loving Mom.  Not once.”

Sam chuckled and for a moment, his eyes twinkled with youth as he reached across the table to scoop Nia’s hands into his.  For a moment, he looked rejuvenated, childlike again—just as he did in Nia’s memories.  “Your mother...she was something else.  There will always be a place in my heart for her."  He smiled wistfully as her as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  "I believe that there are many different types of love, Nia.  The love between a husband and wife, sister and brother, boyfriend and girlfriend—these types of love can change with the simplest action or the slightest word, or just by growing apart a little bit.  But the love any parent has for their child—their son or daughter,” his fingertips caressed Nia’s cheek, “that, Nia, is love in its purest form.  I loved your mother, but in the end, we were better off apart.  We grew up and we wanted different things.  We fell in love too
young
.  We loved one another, but we weren't in love.  The only thing we came to have in common was you...and sometimes, that just isn't enough.  You were the best gift your mother could have given me and there isn’t anything you could ever do that could make me love you less.”

Nia wrinkled her nose shamefully.  “Even if I
hypothetically
snuck out of the house past curfew?”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh quietly.  “Yes, I suppose even then.”  He sighed and tucked another curl of hair behind Nia’s ear.  “We’ll get back to that in just a tick.”  Nia breathed a sigh of relief for a moment longer.  “Nia—what I'm really trying to tell you is that you should never give your heart away to just
anyone
.”  Her father’s eyes twinkled with such remorse Nia almost couldn’t bear to look at him.  She yearned to turn away, but his hand cupped her cheek and his eyes penetrated hers like stars piercing the night sky.  “If you do, you won’t get all of it back.”

“I would eventually though,” Nia tried pointing out.  “I’d get over it.”

“A broken heart is one of the hardest things for anyone to mend.”

Nia's teeth gently grazed her bottom lip.  Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled deeply, feeling guilty.  “Dad—I’m really sorry about the past couple of nights...I’ve just been—” 

Sam held up a hand in amends.  “Let’s just pretend it never happened.  Unless I catch you at it again,” he added as an afterthought, “for now, it’s none of my business.”

Nia nearly snorted her exhale in relief.  “I promise Dad.”

“Just promise me that if you’re ever in any trouble—you’ll come to me first before you take matters into your own hands?”

Nia started; who knew what sort of trouble she’d encounter in the future? 
I'm bound by blood and souls not to tell
—she mused, looking into her father’s kindred soul—
even though I would give anything to tell you the truth.
“I promise.”  It was scary how
good
she was getting at telling lies.

The brisk ring of the telephone cut through the small dining room like a paring knife.  Nia jumped from her seat with a start, fumbling towards the living room.  Sam blinked, still staring at the chair in which Nia had previously been situating before turning around in his chair. 

“Nia?” Sam called after her, the questioning tone clear in his voice.  Nia inwardly rolled her eyes as the next line came predictably from his mouth.  “You haven’t finished your supper.” 

“It’s just Fiona,” Nia shouted back as she reached up for the cordless.  Mealtime in this household was considered family time since Nia had—now somewhat regretfully—helped clean the bill infested table, and Sam would hear nothing less.

“Don’t you have homework?”  Nia could hear the fractured disapproval underlying within her father’s already strained voice.

“Yeah.”  Nia paused mid-reach to peer over her shoulder at him.

“You know the rule, Niambe,” Sam replied flatly, pursing his lips.  "Homework first before social hour." 

“I know,” Nia retorted, giving Sam her best puppy face.  “But Fiona needs help with her science.”  More with the lies.

Sam’s eyebrows nearly went through the roof as he skeptically looked over Nia, watching for any sign of dishonesty.  Maybe he was finally catching on to the fibs that made her crazy life seem normal.  “Oh
really
?”

“Yeah,” Nia affirmed quickly, shaking her head.  “We’re—we’re studying together.”