Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2)

by Su Williams

  ??? Came his reply.

  U will NEVER guess what I just did.

  w/ Sabre…anything is possible.

  I just had my first and last drag from a cigarette.

  WHAT?

  U said he was good. I smoked in the weave he did. Rock star, remember?

  I’m going 2 kick his ass now

  Nah, it’s all good. just come see me

  OMW

  Nick’s nose scrunched when he came in and hugged me a couple of minutes later. “You need a shower,” he said.

  “Yeah, I was thinking so. Give me a minute?” I knew he would. And he knew to multiply that minute by at least twenty.

  When I came out of the bathroom a little while later, Nick lay on the couch with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of deep sleep. I smiled. It was nice to see him sleep, nice that he felt safe enough in my home to take a nap. My fingers ached to touch him but I knew my touch would roust him from desperately needed sleep. The shadows under his eyes had darkened to deep bruising that would give any vampire a run for their money.

  Like a breeze, I drifted to the couch, sat on the floor and gazed into his handsome face. But under his dark lids, his eyes rolled and pitched, careening off stark and violent images. He struggled with his dreams. I knew that behavior, had done it myself. Chimera stalked Nick’s sleep.

  Whisper soft, I grazed my fingers across his brow to quell the storm. He flinched from my touch. His eyes shot open, a view to a turmoil I couldn’t measure. He scanned my face frantically, then scooped me into a quaking hug.

  “Oh god,” he said, his voice harsh with pain. “Emi…”

  I petted his hair, comforted him as best I knew how. “It was just a dream. Okay? Just a dream.” What nightmare haunted him that cast such desperation into his heart? What was he so afraid of? I crawled onto the couch beside him and searched his face, his eyes, looking for something out of reach, something ugly and vile that tortured him. Nick pressed his face to my neck, his breath hot and humid on my skin. I raked his hair away from the sweat that glistened on his brow, and tried to reassure him, as he had for me so many times before. “Shh, honey. It’s okay.” But, I was pretty sure everything wasn’t okay in the crazy world of Nickolas Benedetti.

  “It’s okay,” he echoed. “It was just a dream.”

  Just a dream. A dream that tattered and tore at him like a rampant cyclone. They say the velocity of a tornado can splinter wood and drive it right through you. Whoever the hell ‘they’ were. This storm that raged in Nick spun him out of control and impaled him with stakes that sliced through his core.

  After several bracing breaths, and concerted attempts to center himself, he was finally back in control of himself. He raised his face to look into my eyes. Then, cupped my cheek in his hand and began to speak, but decided to kiss me instead. His mouth was soft and gentle against mine, he breathed in my breath like the breath of life—as though salvation poured from my lips.

  “Emi, I love you, so much,” his throat constricted around the words and my heart constricted against his words.

  “That sounds like ‘goodbye’, again.” I hardened my heart. Was he trying to leave me again?

  “No, my love. Not ‘goodbye.’ I will stay until I die, until you command me to leave and even then I’ll linger near to watch over you.”

  “I will never command you to leave,” I declared.

  Doubt flashed in his eyes and he pressed his cheek to my chest, listened to the emotional erratic rhythm of my heart.

  * * *

  Every so often, maybe a couple of times a year, a peanut butter and banana sandwich with a cold glass of milk just hits the spot. And after a tumultuous night’s sleep and skipping breakfast, this was one of those times. The ability to draw such minute memories from deep inside me continued to astound me. Nick even made the mixture just like my mom did, smashing the bananas into the peanut butter with a fork. No doubt he’d pilfered that memory as well. But I was grateful for the thought—and the sandwich.

  Nick slid up behind me at the sink as I washed the dishes. His arms slid around my waist; his breath warm in my hair.

  “Shall we take Eddyson for a walk?” he asked.

  I dried my hands, turned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. His dark eyes, eternal shimmering pools, wove their magic in my heart. “That sounds nice.”

  Outside, winter was playing at being spring with a warm Chinook wind melting the frozen trees and the frosting on top of my bungalow. Inside, Eddyson’s ears perked at the word ‘walk’. His head bobbed to one side then the other as we repeated the enticing word. His whole body wagged when Nick brought out his leash and harness. We donned our jackets and I stuffed my hair into my laughing skull hat and my hands in my fingerless leather gloves with tiny steel skull rivets across the knuckles. Nick smirked as he fisted his hands in his own leather gloves.

  “What?” I protested playfully. “You knew what you signed up for here from the beginning, bub.”

  It was true that I was a bit quirky with a passion for skulls, the more unique the better. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it just felt dark and rebellious to collect such a blatant symbol of death. Maybe it was the death that spoke so deep and familiar to my soul.

  Nick’s smile grew and liberated mine. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said as he took my hand and led me out of the house.

  Eddy’s nose hooked a scent the moment the door closed behind us. He tugged and strained on the leash. His jowls flapped, his brow wrinkled to capture the scents only the nose of beagle could detect. We laughed at his boisterous snuffling, the impassioned yips that drove him forward, oblivious of us or anything else in the world.

  Fall’s tall golden grasses were matted to the ground from the weight of the melting snow. Tiny rivulets of water snaked in silver ribbons through the roots and pooled in low spots. The warm wind pressed at our backs and tugged at the pup’s floppy ears. It felt strange having such a ‘normal’ experience. Nothing had been normal in my life in almost a year; and somehow, I didn’t see normal returning any time soon. There was still a gap in the memories of Nick before and Nick now that puzzled me. Despite having the memories of him back, the time without him was still a cold emptiness within me that should’ve been filled with him.

  As we crossed Yale Road to the quarry, a flash of mica on the ground reminded me of something else sparkly.

  “What about the necklace?” I asked. Nick was silent. “The ‘Dream On’ necklace you gave me. Uncle Adrian gave one to me for Christmas, but it’s the same one, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” He was quiet, like he didn’t want to say more but knew I expected him to. “It was made especially for you. I wanted you to have it. Even if you couldn’t know it came from me.”

  We started up the sloping hill to the railroad tracks. “How did Adrian get it?”

  Nick’s brow crunched up. “I phased in while he was napping on Christmas Eve and put it in his brief case. Then, I gave him the memory of buying it for you, so he could tell Celeste. I just—I wanted you to have it.” Grief or regret, something heavy, constricted Nick’s heart. I could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. Despite my anger at him for bailing on me and extricating my memories of him, I could see that it cost him too, immensely.

  “Can you—show me—what it was like for you? When you left?” I needed to know the price he’d paid. “Can you show me why you left?”

  Eddyson stopped to ‘water’ his billionth clump of grass and sniff out the last dog who came this way. Nick slid off his glove and placed his warm, trembling hand on my chest. Perceptions of terror, violence and death bombarded my mind. Stark fear for my life, a cherished treasure, sliced through him in icy anguish so deep it pierced my aching heart. I gasped and stepped away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  How could I be angry at him for what he believed? His very existence was marred by the presence of the Rephaim, and he was loathe to subject me to the v
iolence and horror any more than he already had. The price of my protection had cost him dearly, but the sacrifice was given willingly, out of a love. A love I had yet to give adequate value, or even begin to comprehend, despite his continued professions.

  I pressed my hands to my chest to quiet the rending of my heart. “Promise me,” I whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me like that again.”

  “I can’t…” His eyes darted away and squeezed shut like he couldn’t face the world.

  “What?” The air sucked out of my lungs. He couldn’t make me this promise? Despite the anguish it caused us both?

  He held up a finger to me requesting a moment. “I can’t ever, ever leave you,” he finally managed.

  I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around him, trying to console him. But Eddy had other ideas and yanked at the leash. We laughed at his doggedness and stepped onto the tracks. Only Eddyson’s ceaseless tracking broke the fragile silence that hovered around us until we reached the run-off pond.

  “I need you to promise me one more thing,” I said. Nick didn’t answer, just squeezed my hand. “Promise me you’ll stop saying you’re sorry. Promise there won’t be a reason for you to have to ask my forgiveness.”

  “I don’t know if I can promise that, Em. Just being with me puts you in danger and for that I am eternally sorry.”

  “I understand. I’m asking you not to make decisions that will hurt us both. No matter how gallant or selfless they may be.”

  Nick released my hand as we traversed the deer path down to the ravine, but took it up again after we crossed the downed fence. Eddy had gotten big enough to jump the wires on his own.

  “I’ll try,” he said softly, reluctance at agreeing to a binding contract strained his voice.

  “‘Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try’,” I quoted from another favorite movie.

  Nick chuckled. “I will ‘do’,” he said. “What’s with you and movie quotes, anyway?”

  “Great wisdom comes from the big screen,” I swore solemnly with my hand to my heart.

  Winter still held the forest scents captive, but warm wind lured the ravens out to ride the currents. A tiny grey rabbit barely caught our notice in the brown-grey underbrush. The subtle twitch of his nose and the glint off its black eyes were all that we saw before he launched into the bushes. Deep pocks in the soft mud revealed the trail of deer foraging for any tiny blade of green grass courageous enough to poke through last fall’s debris.

  A raven perched on a branch overhead, his eyes surveying our progress down the ravine. He clicked and cackled at us. His voice reminded me of the little red squirrel I’d seen down here. But—did I really see it? Did I really come down here before Christmas? So much of that time was still a jumbled mess in my head.

  Finally, I broke the silence that swirled around us like a melting breeze. “Can Caphar turn into animals?” I asked.

  Nick didn’t laugh. He already knew where this was coming from. “No. Sometimes, they—we mask the memory of our presence by showing you something in nature. Something you’re less inclined to be frightened by.”

  “I didn’t really bring Eddy down here before Christmas, did I?”

  “No. You were right. We found traces of you and Thomas in the compound and out in the barn. He manipulated your memories of this place to throw us off.”

  “I love it down here.” Dead Man’s Creek lured me in when my parents first moved us out of Spokane. Its swaying Ponderosas and shady service berry bushes; the meandering creek that drew deer, porcupine, moose, even bear, was a sparkling adventure to a city girl like me. “I wish he hadn’t tainted my memories of the creek. I feel like I constantly have to look over my shoulder, now.” I thought for a moment as I scanned the muddy bank of the creek. “You can’t, like, remove those images, can you?”

  “I could.”

  “But?” I could hear it in his voice.

  Nick tucked a stray hair under my cap. “Do you remember I told you that every memory is a gift?”

  “Yeah yeah,” I sneered. “Even the bad ones.”

  His smile was sad. “Yes. Even the bad ones. Our memories make us who we are, teach us how to behave when an situation is repeated in our lives. Those memories are connected to others. To remove them would leave holes. And not just in your memories but in your reactive learning.”

  I quirked up the side of my mouth and nodded. “I understand.”

  “I can, Em. If you really want me to. I just want you to know the truth of what happened, not something I or anyone else manipulated.”

  “No. You’re right. I suppose that’s the difference between you and them, isn’t it?”

  Another sad smile. “It’s one of the differences.” He was quiet a moment, his gaze deep and internal, wounded and aching. “But that’s what I ended up doing to you, isn’t it.”

  It wasn’t a question, like he was asking me if that’s how I saw it. I bit my lip. It was what he’d done to me–manipulated and erased my ‘precious’ memories.

  “Emari. I’m so…”

  “Don’t! No more apologies.” My anger flared like a match.

  “But what does that make me?”

  I huffed a laugh. “I’d say human, but that doesn’t quite apply, does it?”

  “No,” he said. “Not quite.”

  “I think—it makes you a man,” I declared.

  His arms wrapped around me again and his heart thrummed in gratitude against my own. Eddyson plowed into hole in the bank and got stuck. His whimpers brought us out of the tiny universe that held just us two, and back to the world at large. Nick mucked through the puddles, soaking his jeans to the knees in grey sludge to retrieve my wayward dog.

  “Let’s get you two home and cleaned up,” I suggested.

  * * *

  Nick sparkled out of the carport while I went inside and peeled off my own wet clothes and put on clean ones. Then, I trotted downstairs to the basement. The washer wafted steam as I added some soap and shut the lid. As I withdrew my hand, I caught a shadowy movement in my peripheral vision. I whirled around and gasped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  He towered over me, head and shoulders, though with my measly five foot two inch stature, that wasn’t so hard. His face was leathered, his eyes sunken pits of tar that captured innocent prey and drew them to their death. A fine angry-red scar ringed his throat like a scarlet lace choker. The last time I saw those eyes, they were glaring up at me from a disembodied head.

  Chapter 13 Fake Friends

  Thomas.

  I calculated my chances of escape. Nil. I could scream. But Thomas saw the thought that registered in my brain and before I could blink, in a wizard-black flurry, he was at my side; his skeletal hand clamped over my mouth.

  “Tut, tut, my young one,” he crooned. “There is no one to hear you scream. Now, shall we take a little ride, just you and I?” I shook my head. I really, really did not want to go anywhere, especially with him. “I have a friend who is most anxious to meet you.” Thomas thrust lascivious thoughts into my brain, and I shuddered despite the heat of his body pressed against mine.

  “Shall we go then?” He pushed me toward the door. I reached to touch the door knob in hopes of leaving some remnant of panic behind for Nick to find, but Thomas maneuvered me away. “Oh, no. No leaving clues for your boys to find.” He opened the door and swiped the knob with his sleeve, like a burglar wiping away his fingerprints. He pushed me out the door and up the steps to the back yard, his hand still clamped my mouth shut. The inside of my cheeks shredded against my teeth, and a trickle of warm copper spread across my tongue. We crunched through the crust of snow and frozen brush toward Highway 206 that edged the South perimeter of my property. A dark panel van, a shadow against the wintry dusk sky was parked and waiting.

  The headlights of an approaching car grazed across us as we neared the van, then the blare of brake lights lit the darkness. The warning alarm dinged anxious chimes as the driver got out and left his door gaping.


  “What’s going on?” he yelled as he rounded the front of the van.

  I felt Thomas’ glee at torturing this innocent human, a simple good Samaritan who’d risked his life for mine. I struggled against Thomas’ steely grip, shook my head, pleaded for him to please not hurt this man. Thomas only sneered. No! Please! Don’t hurt him! I’ll go! Just leave him alone! But the Wraith’s chortle thrummed against my back. My would-be rescuer’s eyes went blank, then flooded with horror. Vague images of the man’s worst nightmares spilled from Thomas to me. The driver stared in terror then ran back to his car and sped away in flurry of gravel and road salt.

  The side door of the van slid open from the inside and a strangely familiar face peered out at me. How did I know this man? The image of his sandy blonde hair and blue eyes were filed away somewhere in my brain, but I couldn’t locate the file.

  “Emari, my darling. Greetings. So kind of you to join us this balmy evening.” The blonde feigned amity and oozed danger. “I have waited a long time to meet you, my dear. Come, join me.”

  I remembered what I heard a guest on the Oprah show say one time, about not letting an abductor take you to a second location, because that generally meant you were going to die. I placed my foot on the door frame as if to get in of my own free will, but instead I used it as a launching pad. I thrust myself away from the van and twisted and struggled in Thomas’ grasp. If only I could phase away like Nick. His hand dropped from my mouth and I drew in a breath to scream, but his boney fingers wrapped around my throat. Blood hummed through my ears and pounded behind my eyes. Tiny guttering stars swam at the edges of my vision. The blonde man grabbed my wrists and dragged me into the van like a roll of carpet, scraping my thighs on the way through the door. Thomas hopped in behind me and slammed the door behind him.

  “Tie her up,” said the blonde.

  Thomas slid plastic ties out of his pocket and wrapped them around my wrists in front of me. The plastic sliced into my skin as he jerked them tighter. I protested, but he gave me a withering glare.