Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3)

by Su Williams

  I turned my attention back to Sabre. His dark head rested in the crook of arm and I brushed wayward tendrils of hair from his clammy brow. For the first time since I’d known him, Sabre looked like an innocent boy, not the hard, harsh figure of a man he presented to others. “You need to phase, Sabre,” I encouraged softly. “You’ll die. You gotta phase now.” Oddly, he only gazed back up to me with a faint smile. His cold fingers trembled across my bare shoulder, and reminded me that I was down to my jeans and bra. Flashes of Sabre’s ‘rock star’ weave flitted through my mind.

  “So—soft,” he murmured and hacked up another pint of blood.

  I dabbed his chin with the sleeve of my shirt. “Sabre. Honey. You need to phase. Please.”

  He blinked, long and slow, as though he was slipping into sleep, then answered with the tiniest shake of his head.

  A growl of rage erupted from Nick as he slammed the Wraith against the garage wall with the lance in a chokehold at his throat. “It’s time for you to die!” he growled.

  Lights glanced across the two men as the staccato pop of tires on loose gravel drew all of our attention. A black and white cop car skidded to a halt and the silhouette of an officer spilled from the vehicle, gun drawn and aimed at Nick’s chest. Just. Fucking. Great! Just what we needed: police interference. The red dot from the cop’s laser sites danced on Nick’s chest. I eased Sabre to the ground and stood, my hands spread in surrender.

  “Officer. This isn’t what it looks like,” I said. But who the hell was I kidding? This was exactly what it looked like. Murder. Cold, hard, justifiable murder. The red dot swung across the yard and centered on my heart. A flashlight clicked to life, blinding me. The figure was silent, except for rasping breaths that made the dot bobble up and down.

  Thomas made use of the distraction to try and struggle away, but Nick growled, dark and feral, and slammed him back against the garage. Then, the Wraith began to laugh. My eyes searched out Nick’s for explanation.

  “It’s good to see you tonight, Officer,” Thomas jeered. “It seems our young friends are up to no good.”

  Our young friends? Was this another Wraith come to aid his comrade? Nick smashed his fists into Thomas’ chest and the red dot floated back to him—dead center. Thomas devolved into a sinister chortle.

  “Officer? I can explain…” But I had no idea what to tell him.

  “Yes, Miss Sweet. Do let us hear,” Thomas said.

  The dot swung back to me, as though the cop was confused on which target to take down. I shielded my eyes from the flashlight beam aimed at my face. Maybe this cop was a rookie, fresh out of the academy. What a way to begin a career in law enforcement.

  “Emari?” The cops voice creaked like a rusty wheel, but even through the rasps, I recognized it.

  “Molly?”

  The light wobbled as though the effort to maintain it was against her will.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, Miss Sweet,” she commanded with valor that didn’t seem quite genuine.

  “Molly. There’s a lot going on here you don’t understand.” And how was I supposed to make her understand that we had good reason for killing this thing that called himself a man? It went against everything she believed, everything she’d been trained. Or, was she one of them: a Rephaim?

  Thomas struggled against Nick’s hold, and Molly’s eyes raced back and forth between us. She stepped into the penumbra of light encircling the yard and her face held the deadpan expression of a woman haunted by the darkest of demons. Her aim faltered a moment, but she recovered and brought the beam of red light to bear on my chest.

  The struggle between the two men recommenced as Thomas used Molly’s distraction to gain the upper hand. They whirled and roared around the yard like a nightmare tornado. Sabre groaned, a gurgling death groan. I needed to get back to him. I lowered my hands and took a tentative step in his direction, but the sound of the safety on Molly’s weapon halted me in my tracks.

  “Molly. My friend is hurt. He’s going to die. I need to help him.”

  She blinked, scared and confused, and risked a glance at Sabre’s prone body.

  “Emari…” Her voice twisted with the same fear and uncertainty. But she cocked her head, like Eddy hearing a strange noise and her eyes grew coal black and hard as rock. “That’s just what we want,” she sneered. “We want you all to die.”

  Nick and Thomas crashed to the ground, and I used the diversion to disarm my friend. Then, I submersed her into the deepest sleep of her life and settled her back into her cruiser. I’d have to deal with her later. Sabre and Nick needed me now. I raced to Sabre’s side and lifted him into my lap. His dark chocolate eyes were closed, and shallow, pain-filled gasps lifted his chest.

  “Hey,” I whispered as I brushed away a wayward rarefied tear from his cheek. “Come on, Sabre. Phase.” A faint smile curled his mouth. At least I knew he could still hear me. Anger rose up inside me like molten lava. I wanted to throttle him, bash his head on the ground until he saw sense. “Why do you always have to be such an ass?!” I seethed.

  “Because you wouldn’t know me any other way,” he rasped out.

  “I’d like the chance to try.” But only a small shake of his head answered me.

  Once again, Nick and Thomas crashed against the side of the garage. Nick captured the Wraith against the wall, and the fiercest, most ruthless snarl I’d ever heard erupted from his throat. The time for words and illusions was done. It was time to end this. Finally and forever. In a blurring flurry of speed, he spun the lance, and cut across Thomas’ throat. Blood spilled down the Wraith’s chest. As he stood appalled, Nick whirled the lance again and brought the tip up into his chest cavity. Thomas gasped in pain, almost astounded that Nick had bested him. The Caphar sneered in his face. With a final flick of his wrist, I heard the quiet crunch of breaking glass as the double dose of lye bubbled into his body. Bloodied foam ate away at his insides. Thomas’ moan devolved into a scream that died as he did—as his body slid to the ground.

  “For good, this time,” Nick growled at the corpse and launched a well-aimed kick to the side of his head.

  “Nick! We need you!” I called out.

  As though lost in a nightmare, Nick scanned the yard until his eyes locked on me cradling Sabre in my lap. He phased to my side, winded and panicked. “How bad? Will he be okay?” His hands wandered helplessly over his mentor’s body. So much blood saturated Sabre’s clothes, he didn’t know where to look for the source. Wrenching his eyes from his mentor, he scanned my body for damage. Blood, not a drop of it my own, smeared my belly, chest and arms, turning tacky as it dried. “Where’s your shirt?” A shadow of worry ghosted over his face, but the words fell flat, sapped of emotion and energy.

  I nodded to the no-longer-pink t-shirt with a smiling sugar skull, now saturated with blood. “He won’t phase. I told him, Nick. But he won’t. He just lays there with this stupid little smile and won’t do it.”

  Nick transferred Sabre’s weight into his own arms and gazed down at him. Tears sparkled on his eyelashes, but he blinked them away.

  “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 kn
ow,” 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.