Beyond Taken (The Beyond Series Book 5)

by Ashley Logan

  I LIVE FOR MY DREAMS.

  Not the fantasy dreams people have when they aspire for futures bright with love, or wealth, or happiness. I used to imagine all three of those things when I dreamed of being a famous singer, but I don't dream like that anymore. It requires hope.

  I love my actual dreams.

  The ones I have while sleeping.

  There, I'm with Niko. We live a whole life beyond a ship's cabin and it's more liberating than wind in my hair.

  Often, I wake up with a song in my head. Something I've heard on the radio that reminds me of him, or a song from his playlist; maybe something I've sung to him, or even the vague thread of a song he’s hummed to me. Sometimes it'll be something I'd written on board the Moskva-Liis, but have never truly formed inside my head; just little snippets of a melody and a string of thoughts or feelings that slip through my grasp as consciousness steals them away.

  Always it's dark when I wake. So dark I can pretend a little longer that my dreams are real. Sometimes I whisper to his ghost, imagining that he might be sitting in the chair by the bed, because I can't feel him lying beside me.

  It's the thought of him that propels me from my bed each day. He's the reason I sneak to the other corridor to shower. The acoustics are better there.

  It's for him that I sing each morning.

  Singing in the shower is a private freedom only the two of us could understand.

  Strangely, the shower has become the one place I feel safe singing. To belt out whatever song I feel like whilst being naked, warm and wet. I can pretend he hears me. Singing just for him.

  When my singing stops, it's time to start the day.

  My real day.

  The one I trudge through until I dance on stage as Siren.

  She's a variation of Saskia, with Natascha's haunted feelings manipulating her limbs. The result is appealing enough to a crowd so that I can afford to live comfortably, and I never have to touch a single man. Not like Saskia, who was a slave to the bump and grind for her supper. Siren is powerful and off-limits. Safe.

  Her dancing lets me feel things in a way I avoid at all other times when awake. And after she works the stage and talks with her friends more openly than any other time of the day, she goes to bed and Natascha conjures the dreams.

  This is my life. My life as several different people living as one. We're so alike, Nikolai and me.

  And so it continues.

  Actual dream.

  Daydream.

  Blatant avoidance.

  Dazzling show of the war within, followed again by daydreams until the real dreams return.

  I'm slipping. I can feel it.

  Only yesterday, Reeni helped me get dressed. Such a simple thing, and I couldn't seem to do it. Kat had looked at me strangely when I called her Lisandra, then she'd hugged me until I cried. She'd kept hugging me until I stopped crying.

  I stopped as quickly as I could, but it changed things.

  They all look at me differently now. They see too much. Or not enough, which makes them look for longer, in case they might find the real secrets.

  Is okay, I tell myself as I put up stronger walls to keep them from seeing in. Is mine to feel.

  I block them out and they talk as if I'm not there, so it works.

  "Maybe she should stay home. I'll stay with her. Vi will understand."

  The words take a while to filter through my layers of insulation, but when they do, I snap into the present.

  "Vi? Today is her party?" I ask, getting off my bed and opening up my closet. "Is big day for Violet. I am happy for her. We will all go. Supporting happiness is very important."

  Flipping through clothes, I circle back and flip through them again.

  "What are you all wearing?" I ask, turning to view six very surprised and concerned faces. Frowning, I stop rushing. "You are none of you dressed," I say of their rough and ready sweats, t-shirts and the like.

  "Uh, it's not until later," Cooper reports from the doorway to my room. It's strange that he's the only one able to talk when he struggles with this at other times, and as he looks around the others, I believe that he's probably thinking the same.

  "Thank you, Cooper. How long am I having to behave like normal person so they will let me come?"

  Smiling warmly, he checks his watch. "You've got about five hours, but they'll need a lot of convincing, Nat. You've been out of it for days. Weeks even."

  "Is fine." I swat the air between myself and the small crowd in my room. "I am very able to be good for Violet's Party. Is only one day. If they want, I can get 'out of it' again tomorrow."

  "No!" Bruno cries, holding his hands up. "Stay. Here. With us. We've missed you and been going out of our heads with worry."

  "Jeez girl," Reeni says, grabbing my hand and turning me back to my closet. "If all you wanted was an excuse to party, you should've said. I'd have taken you out weeks ago. Choose something comfortable, but classy and go jump in the shower. Kat's dying to do your hair. I'll do your makeup-"

  She holds a finger to my lips as I start to protest.

  "Promise I'll make it subtle. You need nothing to look beautiful. I'm just going to run you through the paces to give you confidence. Yes?"

  Sighing, I nod. "Yes. I can shower now?"

  "Yes. Please do. It's been three days since I last wrangled you into one."

  I narrow my eyes at her. "You lie."

  "Okay two. But you've been a total pain in the ass, so welcome back."

  "Thank you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Violet greets us at the door as we arrive en masse at the apartment she and Serge now share down on Main Street. The inevitable hugging commences, which takes quite some time with a dozen of us, and when Sergio her betrothed appears behind her, it all begins again.

  Hanging back a little, I smile politely and look about the apartment as we inch our way further inside. There's a distinct lack of furniture, which speaks loudly of Serge and Violet's no-fuss personalities, and I notice she's even wearing jeans. Looking down at the sun-dress Reeni had convinced me was perfect, I tug my sweater closed and fold my arms over my chest. Jeans would have been better.

  "You look gorgeous. Quit hiding it," Reeni mutters out the side of her mouth. She's barely left my side all day.

  "I could have worn jeans," I grumble, pining for my comfy staples.

  "Yeah, well you've been wearing jeans for weeks and the dress is a nice change, so suck it."

  Glancing up at her tone, I giggle.

  "Holy shit. Was that a laugh? Watch it Chenkov. Your face might fall off."

  Chuckling quietly, I give her a tight nod. "Thanks."

  Linking her arm through mine, Reeni drags me further into the apartment. "You're welcome. And don't you fucking leave me again, or I'll slap you. Beverage?" she asks, halting us in front of the drinks counter.

  "Please."

  "Hmm," she ponders over the selection. "I'm thinking you want a nice glass of vodka. Am I close?"

  "On the spot," I reply, gasping when she reaches for a familiar Estonian sipping vodka.

  "What's wrong?"

  I shake my head. "N-nothing. I just-" Pointing at the bottle in her hand, I shake my head again. "It has been a while since I have had this particular vodka. Is a good one. Make it a big glass maybe."

  Regarding me carefully a moment, she unscrews the cap. "One super-sized vodka coming up." She pours the glass, pausing to read the label on the bottle before she hands me my drink. "I note that it states the word 'sipping' on the bottle. Watch you don't slam this back in one, babe."

  "I am familiar with the drinking of Vodka, thank you Ireeni."

  Giving me beady eyes for emphasizing her real name, she pours herself a much smaller drink from the same bottle and clinks our glasses together before taking a sip.

  I giggle at her expression as she swallows. Raising my own glass to my lips, I breathe in the familiar scent and savor the taste.

  "Okay. Yup. Drinking this stuff straight i
s how Estonians have mastered straight faces of stone. I'm going to add OJ to mine."

  "It will ruin the taste," I warn her.

  "That's what I'm hoping," she sings back sweetly, adding a generous slosh of orange juice.

  Linking her arm through mine again, she steers me through the small crowd.

  "Let's see if there is anyone tasty here we can't sink our teeth into."

  Snorting, I take another sip of vodka.

  "Okay celibate Suzy. Anyone I can sink my teeth into," she corrects as I stop dead in my tracks.

  "Nat? What's wrong?" Looking at me, she scans the room. "You've gone all stiff." Slipping her arm out from mine, she comes to stand right in front of me. "And you're breathing funny."

  Snapping her fingers in front of my face, she mutters under her breath and takes my drink away as I blink her back into focus. Returning empty handed, she puts both hands on my shoulders.

  "Nat breathe. You're at Vi and Serge's party, with me and the rest of our fucked up little family. Where's your head?"

  Blinking at her, I give her a little nod. "I'm here."

  "Where'd you go?"

  My eyes travel beyond her to the large, segmented window overlooking the street, and the man standing in front of it.

  Forehead resting on his forearm as he leans against one of the wooden strips dividing the glass panes, he's watching the world below.

  T-shirt and jeans.

  Of course he'd be wearing jeans.

  I've not imagined him in a t-shirt before, but as I read Metallica on it, it seems very fitting. The white cords of his earphones dangle from his ears and I wonder what he's listening to - if maybe our worlds could align enough for it to be the same song playing from Violet's speaker somewhere behind me. The sound seems further away the more I try to listen.

  Is his hair longer? That seems odd. Would I imagine it to look that way?

  "Nat. Focus. Tell me what's going on."

  Drawn back to Reeni's face, I glance from her to Nikolai, my heart beginning to gallop in my chest.

  "I- There's... Is there...?" Closing my eyes, I take as deep a breath as my tightening chest lets me. Maybe I should have taken those pills the doctor suggested.

  "Ask me straight," Reeni says plainly. "I'll still love you, so ask me anything you need to."

  Nodding, I try to take another breath. "Do you see that man by the window?" I ask, hoping she'll say no. Or maybe yes.

  Looking behind her, she twists to see past another person.

  "The hottie with a body? Yeah. Good catch. You know him?"

  Squinting at her a moment, I look back across the room. "You see him?"

  "Yes. I'm not blind. Hey!" Reeni grabs Violet as she comes closer.

  Surprised at being dragged into our tight little conversation, Vi stares at Reeni, then at me.

  "You okay Nat? You're all pale and... shit. Are you having a panic attack right now? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "Definitely ghost," I agree, trying to catch a breath. "I am awake?"

  "Yes, you're awake." Vi fumbles for my wrist as Reeni points toward the window.

  "Vi, who's that guy? He's why Nat's going crazy."

  Vi's eyes whip up to follow Reeni's directions and she cranes her neck to see beyond the others in the room. "Who?"

  "Tall, dark, and brooding over by the window," Reeni clarifies as darkness begins toying at the edges of my vision.

  "That's Nick. He's friend of Serge's from work. He's nice. He seems a bit strange, I know," she adds, turning back to me with the assessing eyes of the med student she once was. "I mean, who brings their own music to a party, right? Oh shit, Nat. Breathe slower. Come sit down. Out of the way!" she cries, shooing away the people that stand between us and her huge couch.

  The couch that's closer to Nick.

  My chest winds ten inconceivable notches tighter as a restrictive clamp made of both fear and longing compresses my lungs in its crushing grip.

  Nick turns around, viewing the scattering people with curiosity before tracing the reason for their migration back to me.

  "Natascha?"

  His voice is a whisper, but I hear him clear as day.

  In that precise moment, I know I'm real - which is strange, because in that exact same moment, I also know I am completely insane.

  It's a great relief when the darkness at the edge of my vision swallows me, ending the confusion.

  A WALL OF BODIES STANDS between me and a prowling tiger. Light from the window flickers between gaps in the wall as he stalks past and it adds to my disorientation when I wake up.

  "Nat." Violet's sitting next to me on what has to be the most comfortable couch in the world. Like a cloud. That seems to fit with the bizarre reality I'd left behind. I wonder if all my experiences will seem nice now that I really am crazy.

  Vi's fingers feel quite real on my wrist and I blink a few times to check that I'm seeing her properly.

  "I am here?"

  She nods and offers me a glass of water. "You passed out. Panic attack. You’re okay. Just rest a while."

  Ignoring her advice, I sit up straight. Fast enough to make my head spin, which doesn't help me to find any stability in my world. I call out.

  "Niko?"

  The light stops flickering. The tiger has stopped pacing.

  "I'm here Natascha."

  His voice is shaky, but he's there.

  My heart flutters and I ease back onto the couch. "Okay... Is okay?"

  "Is good," he replies quietly.

  Some of the bodies in the wall shift closer together and he growls. "Let me through."

  "Not until we clear this up," Bruno responds just as fiercely. "We don't know you."

  "She knows me."

  "Yeah, and seeing you made her freak out," Reeni barks. Like my own personal guard dog.

  "Okay, okay, hold on guys." Violet's Serge steps boldly between sides. "How about we all take a step back. I know Nick and he's a good guy."

  "How do you know him?" Bruno demands.

  "We went through the police academy together. He got snapped up by the feds not long after that, but we finally got him back again last year. He's our interrogation specialist down at the station. He's like a human lie detector. It's actually really amazing to watch," he says, before clearing his throat and getting back on track. "Anyway. I can vouch for him."

  "How do you know Natalia?" Bruno fires in a different direction and I realize the tiger has started pacing again.

  "I don't," Niko replies, stopping the light from flickering again. "I know Natascha Rebane, the beautiful Estonian singer, ballerina and ninja, who loves chocolate, and saved my life in more ways than one. Until today, I thought she was dead, so I would be very, very grateful, if you would just get out of my way so I can be sure I'm not dreaming."

  "Holy shit, he talks like she does," Reeni whispers, glancing behind to view my face. "This guy is real, and you are real, but we're all fucking clueless. Do you want us to let him through?"

  The room goes silent as everyone awaits my answer.

  "You are not dead Niko?"

  "No, Natascha. Not dead," he replies through the human wall. "Ready to down a bottle of vodka maybe, but the heart pounding in my chest says I'm not dead."

  "Yes. I too am feeling this," I admit, pushing off the couch and feeling more stable. "I am not dead either."

  Tapping Bruno and Smith on their shoulders, I wait for them to step aside and reveal the man I've been dreaming about since he first smiled at me across the docks in Tallinn.

  It seems so long ago.

  He isn't smiling now. His eyes are huge and carry a sadness similar to the one I feel within myself.

  "They told me you died."

  "They told me you died," he whispers back, taking a tiny step closer. "My brain didn't want to believe it. I kept seeing you."

  "I saw you too." My eyes can't take in enough of him. "Everywhere. Was it really you? In the blossoms?"

  "They remind me of you," he mumbles
in confirmation. "It was you? In the scarf?"

  Dragging his hands down his face, he stares at me as if too scared to blink. His eyes take on a glassy sheen.

  "My shrink said it was post-traumatic stress. Flashbacks."

  I smile. "Mine says I am prone to over-imagination."

  He laughs quietly and nods. "Not wrong."

  "She wants me to take pills for hallucinating, and maybe accept that I suffer from Stockholm syndrome," I add, choking on a nervous giggle.

  The corner of his mouth twitches. "Maybe she's right. I did worry about that myself at the time. And afterward, when they insisted that's what had happened. But I'd already convinced myself what I felt was real. Strange that I should fall for my own con, but not impossible. I could see their point."

  My eyebrows pull together.

  "I have never felt so real as I was with you. To think of it as false is... bad-tasting. Like floury apples on Moskva-Liis. That was real."

  "They were bad," he agrees with the hint of a smile. Taking another step closer, he sucks in his bottom lip and his eyes run over me as if to ensure that I'm whole. His hand raises as if to stroke my face, but he freezes in mid-air.

  "May I touch you?"

  Closing the gap between us, I bring his hand to my face, leaning into it. "We are here."

  "Yes," he agrees, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close.

  Both of us inhale deeply, as if needing to fill our nostrils with each other's scents to complete our belief systems. He smells different, but the same. Cleaner, but still him.

  "You changed shampoo," he whispers into my hair.

  I nod against his chest, pulling him closer by his t-shirt. "Was too hard to remember, so I changed a lot of things."

  "You are Natalia now?"

  "Right now, I am Natascha again. Feels good too."

  Pressing myself into him to get as close as possible, I relax further as his arms draw me in to the point of almost smothering me. Turning my ear to listen to his heart, I sigh with great relief to hear it pounding as he'd said. "You are 'Nick' to people?"

  "I was always Nick to Americans," he says softly. "They say Nickolai."

  "But you are my Niko?" I ask, just to be sure.