Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3)

by Su Williams

  “No! No, no, no!” The grief in the words grated like sandpaper in my throat, and the power of my emotions caught Sabre off guard. His hold relaxed and I batted away his hands and flung my arms around his neck. His arm wrapped around my waist and he shifted to hold me in his lap. I squeezed his neck until I was afraid his head would pop off, but even then, I only released him enough to breathe. In one of those rare moments of tenderness, Sabre wrapped his arms around me and held my quaking body.

  Nick skidded to Sabre’s side. “Em? What’s wrong? Sabre what did you do?”

  We both ignored him. “Ne pleurez pas pour moi, cheri,” he murmured softly in my ear. Don’t cry for me, beloved. But I squeezed his neck tighter again. “Tout va très bien. Je promets,” he whispered and rubbed a slow circle on my back. Everything will be fine. I promise.

  Nick sat back on his heels. Worry etched deep fissures in his brow. “Sabre? What happened? Did the fight trigger a flashback?”

  “No,” he finally responded, but the word was forced from his throat. He hadn’t expected this response, this wave of compassion and affection. He pushed me away, searched deep into my eyes and whispered, “Ce sera notre secret. Oui?” I realized that Sabre was shielding us both from Nick. This vision…or whatever it was, was not something he wanted Nickolas to see. I nodded and forced breaching tears from my eyes. I didn’t understand why he would keep such a secret from his friend, but I would honor his plea for my silence. For now. Nick lifted me to my feet and engulfed me in his arms.

  “Emi, honey. Are you all right?”

  “No,” I whimpered and battled the tears that rioted for release. “I need to go lay down for a bit. Could you walk me in?”

  Please, Emari! He doesn’t need to see that. It will only serve to distract him. It will get him killed.

  I nodded at Sabre and let Nick guide me to the house. His bed was firm and welcoming. I sat on the edge with my heels propped on the bedrail, my head hung in my hands. In the absence of his arms I shivered. He sat beside me and wrapped me in his heat.

  “Sweets, what happened? Why was Sabre speaking French to you?”

  I couldn’t tell him. I’d given Sabre my word. “You don’t speak French?” I asked.

  “No.” A mischievous grin bowed his mouth. “A wee bit o’ Irish,” he said in a really bad Irish brogue. My pulse throbbed at the memory of his loving words spoken to me a few months ago in my family’s original tongue, Irish. Is féidir leat teacht ar an tsíocháin i do chuid brionglóidí. It means, ‘May you find peace in your dreams.’ His smile sank to murky depths. “And I wasn’t aware Sabre knew the language either.”

  I could only offer a reticent sigh. I’d chastised Nick about lies of omission. Now, here I was, about to boldly lie to his face. But Sabre was right. This kind of information would only serve to distract him in a fight. And yes, it could get him killed. I remembered my first encounter with the Rephaim, and thinking, ‘Despite their feral growls, the love between them remained, their friendship a bond, one to the other, heart to heart. That one would die for the other was without doubt.’ And I still had no doubt that Nick would lay down his life for Sabre. But maybe Sabre didn’t value his life above Nick’s. He wanted Nick to go on, to live, no matter what happened to him. Had I just witnessed Sabre’s sacrifice of brotherly love and loyalty? Or was it just another shadow of doubt implanted by Thomas?

  I finally understood Nick’s dilemma in hiding the truth from me. I could tell him the truth—and he could die because of it. Or I could withhold that same truth for now—and eventually tell him the truth. After the battle. After we won and Sabre was okay and Thomas was finally, finally dead. Could I just let him believe the mock combat triggered a PTSD episode? Did he really need to know I might’ve just had a prescient image of his mentor’s death? Even I wasn’t confident in my burgeoning abilities. I squeezed my temples between my palms. I wanted to tell him ‘it was nothing.’ But that would be a bigger lie, and he’d never believe it.

  “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to tell me.” He pressed my head to his chest and hushed me, but the thunder of his heart echoed in my ears. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need to lay down.” I felt like such a pansy, but those few seconds of—whatever it was, exhausted me more than a week of training. Nick stood, lifted the covers for me and I lowered myself to the mattress. Just like my daddy used to do, he tucked the covers around me, and I wondered if he ever watched my dad tuck me in at night. A shiver skittered down my body from head to toe. “Lay beside me?” He lowered himself beside me and enveloped me in his arms. The heavy numbness of shock settled on my chest like a soggy woolen blanket. My eyes stared at the wall but saw nothing. I didn’t want to see the images that burned inside my eyelids, so I fought the weariness that flooded my body. “Take me somewhere? Maybe, Nat Park. Like you told me before.”

  “Sure.” His voice was soft as silk, caressing the ache in my heart. “Close your eyes and relax.”

  Adrenalin slashed through my core, and my breaths heaved as the fear of those images assailed me. “I can’t.”

  “Honey? I need you to trust me—I know sometimes that’s asking a lot. But I swear, I’ll take you there the moment your mind is receptive to the weave. You just need to relax a little.” As usual, his magic washed through me and cast its spell.

  The Spokane River glistens in the sun, its rumbling journey lulls my aching heart. The air is thick with the smell of pine trees, cotton candy, candied apples, Pups and summer.

  “‘Pups’ is what they called corndogs back in the day,” Nick murmurs in my ear.

  “What is this place?” The awe of the park spread out around us thins my voice to a whisper.

  “This—is Nat Park,” he says as he sweeps his arm at the bustling park filled with women in long dresses, men in nice suits and children in their Sunday best. Screams splay across the sky as the thunder of a giant wooden roller coaster rumbles by. “They called the coaster ‘The Jack Rabbit.’ It was the largest, fastest, wood structure roller coaster of its time. Now, that title belongs to Goliath at Six Flags,” he tells me. “Would you like to ride?”

  “Uh. Yeah-no. I don’t do coasters so well. But, there was a zoo, right? With trained sea lions and monkeys and stuff?”

  Nick merely nods and steers me to a wire mesh enclosure. We watch the African Fallow Deer nibble on summer grasses, peacocks and roosters strut and scratch, and a capuchin monkey swing from limb to limb in her habitat.

  “The monkey’s house used to be a service station that they converted into her enclosure. Later on, it became the cotton candy shack.”

  “Huh. That’s kinda gross.” I hug his arm to me and rest my head on his shoulder. All of the lights and sounds and smells are a good distraction for my mind but the ache in my heart remains. Nick’s breath is warm in my hair, his lips soft and tender on my temple. I can’t help but smile as we stroll the paths through the park and absorb the exhilaration of the children that race by. Parents from miles around ride the trolley from downtown, and across the river with their families to spend a day at the Pacific Northwest’s largest park of its day. “This is the Plunge.” He gestures to an Olympic-size swimming tank with heated water, buzzing with people all suited up for a dunk in the pool.

  I giggle. “Even the boys wore swimsuits?” There are no bikinis at this pool. Only modest, one-piece suits that cover from mid-thigh to neck.

  “Yep, even the boys.” His hand never leaves the small of my back, as he guides me through the park. Such a gallant and charming gesture.

  “What else would you like to see? I’ve been on most of the rides, so I have all the memories tucked away,” he offers.

  “Can we just walk? Please?”

  “Sure, honey.” His fingers intertwine with mine and we meander with the gravel trail lined with bright beautiful flowers in some spots and giant granite boulders in others. Families are scattered about on the sprawling lawn. Picnic tables, laden with summer feasts, draw them all together.
Their shouts and laughter coax a smile to my lips. A miniature train rumbles past with giggling children, clamoring for the engineer to toot his horn. But I notice the people’s clothes have changed. No longer in their Sunday best. The women wear pants and children in play clothes, no suits for the men.

  “I don’t understand. Why do the people look different now?”

  “I came here a number of times over the seventy-nine years it was open,” he explains. “I’m threading together several memories for this trip.”

  “Oh.” I’m quiet, reflective as we circle a small pond with an erupting fountain that shoots some twenty feet in the air. Children run by laughing and yelling. Their parents follow behind, smiles wide, out for a leisurely stroll. A young couple ambles past, so obviously in love—all doe-eyed and snuggling. I think of Nick and his young wife. “Did you bring Felicia here?”

  “Once.” His voice cracks and I wonder if it’s from still-felt grief or guilt. “Does that bother you?” I shake my head so he continues. “We were so young,” he muses out loud, and I watch his memory descend into the past. “It was before we were married. She’d argued with her father about me. Oh, that man hated me.” A small rueful smile lights his face, but the smile is short-lived and plunges back into the depths of yesteryear. “He didn’t know me. I just wasn’t good enough for his social elite daughter. We ran away and caught the trolley downtown and came here to get lost in the crowds and forget our troubles for a few hours.” He’s quiet as we circle the Looff Carousel. Then says, “None of these memories are of that day. In case you’re wondering.”

  “No,” I tell him. “I guess, I was afraid those memories would be too painful for you.”

  “Kind of sucks, the whole eidetic memory thing. You remember everything.” I nod in understanding. If only we had a magical pensieve to cast away unwanted memories.

  We stand watching the children dart through patches of colored sunshine from the carousel building’s stained glass windows. They clamber onto the brightly-painted, bejeweled, wooden ponies. They are beautiful, those children and ponies. So innocent. So naïve of the dark and dangerous things of their world. I envy them their naïveté. “Did you know this carousel was a gift from the creator to his daughter on her wedding day?” Nick asks and breaks me out of my contemplations.

  “Yeah, kinda Spokane 101 there.”

  We meander to a row of buildings: an arcade, shooting gallery, and a Pretzel ride called Fun in the Dark. “See how the carts look like a pretzel at the front? That’s why they nicknamed it the Pretzel ride.” Nick guides me to a souvenir shop and a rack of Nat Park post cards, each for a penny. I browse through the cards at all the beautiful pictures of the park.

  “Back then, the postage was just a penny, too. And all you had to do was scrawl the person’s name and the town they lived in. No address or zip code required.” I huff a quiet, distracted laugh. “Do you want to leave?”

  “No!” The thought of fully returning to my own head is terrifying. “No,” I say quieter, though I’m sure he can hear the thunder of my heart. “It’s nice here. I like it. People now, I mean in our time, they’re so busy all the time. No one takes time to slow down. It’s nice to see all these families together having fun.”

  Nick turns to face me and traces the worried creases around my eyes with his thumbs. “Emi? Are you ever going to tell what happened back there?”

  Reality presses tears to my eyes, but I push them back. Let it turn. “No.” Nick winces. “Just more of Thomas’ mind games,” I hedge. He eyes me skeptically. I pull his hands from my face. “It’s fine. I mean, it was bad. But I can handle it.”

  “You don’t have to ‘handle it’ alone, Em.”

  “I know. But…” I can’t even think of the memories without maiming myself. “…it’s fine.” It’s my turn to wince. Two ‘it’s fines’ definitely equals ‘not fine’. Nick rumbles a frustrated growl low in his throat. I lace my fingers through his and tug on his arm. “Can we just wander around a while?”

  Nick lifts my hand to his face and plants a soft warm kiss on my knuckles. “Sure, Sweets. Whatever you want.” I know he can sense the vice in my chest. He just chooses to leave it alone. For now. Thankfully.

  Chapter 28 Just a Kiss

  Days ticked by. I filled them with long study sessions and taking final exams. Nick broke the monotony with trips to Riverfront Park, the old Nat Park site, where I could still pick up the saturation of the exuberance of the crowds from so many decades ago, and walks to Dead Man’s Creek where Eddyson buried his muzzle in the water and blew bubbles as he snapped at a frog, water skipper or tumbling stick in the current. And Thomas was blissfully absent.

  “He does this,” Nick explained on one of our creek excursions. The days were now scorching and the heat permeated our skin. Winter’s chill had finally thawed under the summer sun. “But don’t let it lull you into complacency. He can show up at any moment, usually the moment you least expect or want him.”

  I lifted my face to the sun. “Yeah, well I’m not going to let fear destroy my love of sunshine.” I breathed in the sun-baked air and moaned softly in appreciation of the scent of pine trees and wild summer grasses. Nick gazed at me like he was watching a mermaid, or faerie or some other magical creature. I liked that he looked at me like that.

  Eddyson’s nose hit pay dirt, probably the odor left behind from the last pup that came this way. Boisterous and loud, he snuffled after it. Impassioned yips interlaced with his sniffing. Nick and I followed along laughing. Finally, the pup struck gold, heisted his leg and, when he was done, marked the spot with a few scrapes of his claws in the dirt.

  “Do you think he could track one of us?” I asked.

  Nick scowled. “Probably. Why?”

  “Calm down. I just think it would be cool if we trained him to find us. Just in case.” Nick harrumphed. “Why don’t you run ahead and hide somewhere in the quarry? Then, I’ll see if he can find you. Once he masters that, we can try to teach him to track us while we’re phased.” Nick scowled again, so I pushed him away playfully and swatted his butt. Then he smiled. “Now go. Before I sic my killer dog on you.” He laughed and bolted away across the crushed quartz of the quarry. I had to take a moment to gaze in appreciation at the lithe lines of his body. But Eddy was having none of it, and tugged at his leash and whined after his friend.

  “At ease, little man. It’s your job to find him.” I walked the boy in a few circles, then back to the spot where Nick left us. “Okay, Eddy. Find him,” I commanded the pup. Eddy’s nose tracked down the scent. He bayed as he lunged forward, dragging me, laughing, behind him. He zigzagged across Nick’s path, yipping and sniffing on the trail. “Good job, Eddy! Find Nick.” He dragged me around mountains of granite and mounds of river rock, hot on Nick’s trail. As we rounded a pile of cedar bark, pungent and cloying in the summer sun, Eddyson froze mid step, his tail straight out behind him and one paw lifted from the ground. “What’s up, Pup?” But a feral growl ripped from his throat, just as Ari sizzled against my chest. “Thomas,” I hissed. We needed to find Nick. Now. We could each face him alone, but we were stronger together. Thomas’ advantage was his stolen abilities. This one Wraith was as powerful as dozens of Caphar—or however many he’d destroyed over the decades. I cringed from the thought of battered and bruised Caphar, left to die after he stripped them of everything they were. “At ease, boy. Find Nick.” Eddy pressed forward, leapt a ditch, and burrowed through waist high weeds. Another growl rumble out of him as Ari flared against my skin. We’ve got to find Nick now! Eddy yipped and lunged down a steep incline. I followed, barely keeping from tumbling down the treacherous slope. The pup bayed and darted around a mound of gravel, then bolted forward, ripping the leash from my hand. I raced after him, into the cleft between two piles of rock. At the point where the two piles merged, sat Nick, stone still, entranced by one of Thomas’ nightmares. Eddy whimpered and nudged under Nick’s arm, as I fell to my knees beside him.

  “Nick? Come on, hone
y. Don’t let him do this to you. Fight.” His gaze remained steadfast at nothing, though his mind whirled with a miasma of sound and images. My death. Replayed in a violent and bloody loop of screaming and agony. Grabbing the front of his T-shirt, I shook him. “Come on, Benedetti. Wake up!” The thought of slapping him back to reality flitted through my mind, but that hadn’t turned out so well with Sabre at the laser place. Instead, I brushed away a stray strand of hair and gazed into his eyes—his eyes, that looked straight through me like I was nothing. “Nick? Honey? Please come back.” Nothing. “Come on, baby. We need you. Please wake up.” Nothing. Thomas was capable of weaving a nightmare that lasted for days. What if I couldn’t wake Nick up?

  I licked my lips in desperation and gently pressed them to his. At first, it was like kissing a cold statue—like kissing one of my movie vamps. Slowly, his lips thawed under the heat of mine and his arm snaked around my waist. He jerked me against him and flipped me to the ground, pressing his weight on top of me. Sharp rocks gouged into my back and I cried out. But Nick’s hand slapped over my mouth. He leaned into my face and sneered.

  “I’m going to savage your body and mind and leave you to die,” he hissed in a voice that wasn’t his own. I shook my head and pleaded with my eyes, but he wouldn’t be deterred. His free hand clutched my throat until I saw stars, then trailed down my chest for another conquest. Without warning, Nick screamed and lunged away, clutching his hand as though it was on fire. I scuttled away and sat at a distance with Eddy cowering beside me, both of us panting and keeping a wary eye on Nick.