Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3)

by Su Williams

  The tension in Nick’s body finally dissolved as the warmth of the liquor spread through his veins. I wrapped my arms around him like a shroud of safety. My fingertips grazed the lines of sorrow on his beautiful face, and I wished for Emma’s powers to heal—wished above everything I could soften the pain inside him. Our conjoined grief imbued the air around us like summer dew. It saturated our skin, and wrung our tattered hearts together. The fire cavorted in the grate, the heat searing across our cheeks. We watched until our eyes grew dry and heavy, and our minds and hearts succumbed to the thrall of the flames.

  Chapter 35 (So Much for…) My Happy Ending

  Nick and I stood on the terrace of our San Diego hotel room overlooking the glimmering Pacific Ocean. The baby powder sky, with soft pink and blue wisps of clouds, reflected in the water. A thumbnail moon hung low over the horizon. City lights glimmered on the tumbling waves that lapped quietly at the shore. My head still floated with concert-buzz—the natural high from adrenalin-filled music played raucous and loud, and topped with a little bangover buzz too. It was the first time since Sabre’s death that we’d found a few hours to forget our pain.

  His arms were safe and warm wrapped around me. My body pressed to his for warmth against the chilly breeze that wafted off the ocean. Contentment rolled off Nick like the waves on the beach. Their kinetic energy stirred something deep on the inside of me. Was it concert-buzz muddling my head? Or were these feelings for him genuine?

  Could I truly forget his betrayal, his deception, his lies?

  “Nick?” I said, just as he was saying ‘Em?’

  We laughed.

  “You go,” I offered.

  His smile was warm, and sad—and a little hesitant. He framed my face with his hands and stroked my cheeks with his thumbs. My heart thrummed and my head swooned with an intoxication I couldn’t name, an intoxication I’d only felt once before in my life—with him. He bent down and ever so gently pressed a wisp of a kiss to my lips. His forehead pressed to mine and he moaned softly, “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

  Of its own accord, my mouth twitched up in a smile. “That was nice,” I told him, but a tremor of fear quivered in my belly. I hoped he didn’t notice, but the pinch of his mouth confirmed my fears.

  “I understand—if you can’t trust me—if you can’t ever trust me. I could only ask for the chance to prove myself to you.” You are my destiny. He winced. He knew I heard the thought. Again, he pressed his mouth to mine, and kissed me like his last breath, like that single draught of air must last the rest of his days. Please. Can we just start over? My heart twisted at the desperation within him. I pulled his hands away from my face, held them between us and stepped away from him. Pain corrugated his brow.

  “Do you remember what I said to you while I was recovering from totaling the T-bird?” There wasn’t really a way for him to forget with a Dream Weaver’s eidetic memory. It was a figure of speech that didn’t apply, but old habits die hard.

  “Yes.” His voice was wispy soft and hesitant.

  I flashed him a playful, encouraging smile. Maybe I was ready for this—maybe.

  “I’m going to go to the down to the lobby for a coffee. There’s an all-night trolley down there that has amoretto.”

  One of his eyebrows cocked up. “Are you coming back?” He knew all I had to do was phase my way home, or anywhere else in the world I wanted to be.

  “Should I come back?”

  “Yes…please.”

  I nodded, then retrieved my debit card from my purse, stuffed it in the back pocket of my tattered rocker chick jeans and left the room without a glance behind me.

  The sweet warm flavor the amoretto breve was familiar and soothing. The cool ocean breeze tugged at my hair as I leaned on the patio rail and stared out over the sparkling black waters of Mission Bay and contemplated all that happened, all that Nick was to me.

  Nickolas Benedetti, the Dream Weaver. He’d been my saviour, my source. He’d been my friend, and my foe. He’d poured out the honesty of his heart, and broke mine with his betrayal. I didn’t believe much in destiny, or predestination. But somewhere deep inside me, maybe the part that some people call the spirit, I felt a connection I couldn’t deny. With all that had happened, was I able to look beyond it and give him a fighting chance? Could I look beyond my own fears of abandonment and even hope that I’d have him forever? If I did offer him a second chance, could I take things slow—really get to know him, as a person—and not my knight in shining armor? Perhaps it truly was time for Emari Jewel Sweet to grow up—to start acting like grownup. But even now, amidst all my inner turmoil, part of me wanted him—wanted him so much it took my breath away.

  *

  My fingers curled and I clenched my trembling hand into a fist. With a deep inhale of bracing breath, I lifted my hand and rapped twice on the door, then let my hand fall with soft smack to my side. Nick opened the door, a tentative, relieved smile spread across his face.

  “Hey,” he said softly.

  “Hey back. Um—hi,” I said and extended my hand. “I’m Emari Sweet.”

  The corners of his mouth twisted higher and he shook my hand. “Hi Emari. I’m Nick.” He stood staring hopefully at me. “Would you like to come in?” But he didn’t wait for my response. He pulled me into the room, shut the door behind me and crushed me in his arms. I backed him to the entryway wall and pressed his back against it. My mouth found his, searing with heat and passion. I meant to take things slow—but his lips blazed a trail down my throat and back up to my mouth. I wanted this, wanted him. I pulled back and his forehead pressed to mine. His breaths, quick and shallow.

  “Slow down…” My lips said, mostly to myself, but then, as if starved for his, I pressed up on my tip toes to reach his mouth again. Nothing else in world existed in those long heated moments. Just me and Nick and a broiling desire that had consumed each of us. His arms snaked around me and crushed my body to his. His breaths panted in my ear as I traced the lean, ropey muscles of his back with my fingertips.

  But there was one thing I’d never told him. One thing I thought he should know—before…I stepped back from his embrace but his fingers hooked the loops of my jeans and held me close. “Nick…I…” My eyes darted over his face, searching for a safe place.

  “What is it, honey?” He thumbed the tension in my cheek. I nuzzled against his palm and closed my eyes. I didn’t want him to see the fear behind them. “Emi, honey, what’s wrong?”

  “I’ve—never—” I stammered, and cast a glance at the bed as a finish to the sentence.

  Nick’s mouth turned down and canyons cleaved his brow. “Never?”

  I shook my head. “Except…”

  “No,” he growled, then softened his voice. “Em, that’s not even close to the same thing.”

  “I know. It’s just…I thought you knew, that you read it in my memories…”

  “No,” he said again, gentler this time. “Remember, memories are compartmentalized. I wouldn’t—I didn’t invade that personal part of your mind.” Nick searched my face for the message I was conveying. “Are you frightened?”

  “No…Yes…I don’t know.”

  He smirked. “That wasn’t a little convoluted.”

  “I guess…I’m just a bit overwhelmed at the moment.”

  Nick pressed his forehead to mine. “We can stop. I don’t want you to be frightened.” He backed away but I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back against me.

  “I don’t want to stop. I’m just—afraid something will trigger the memories.”

  He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my ear. “How ‘bout we take this one step at a time? Promise you’ll tell me if you’re frightened.”

  “’kay.”

  Cradling my cheeks in his palms, he lifted my face to his. “Emari. You know I love you, right?” I nodded, and his mouth pressed gently to mine. After half an eternity kissing him, he swept me up in arms and stepped toward the bed. But he froze after the first step. “Are you fr
ightened now?”

  “No,” I sighed and cuddled against his thermal chest.

  Like a fragile porcelain doll, Nick lowered my body to the bed, and crawled in beside me. He hovered over me, and reminded me of our visit to the South Pacific beach with sugar white sand and azure waves. I remembered the heat that left a mantle of sweat over my skin as he gazed down into my eyes. His fingers trailed across my brow, traced my jaw line, trembled on my lips. His eyes searched mine for any sign of fear.

  “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

  *

  Sunlight poured onto the bed and a warm ocean breeze drifted across my bare skin. Nick’s warm chest pillowed my head and his fingers tickled a trail along the small of my back. My fingers traced the sinewy contours of his arm and I reveled at the sensation of his skin pressed to mine.

  All I wanted since all of this began—since that horrific day that State Troopers came to my door to announce my parent’s deaths—was for everything to return to normal. Now, I was beginning to see that ‘normal’ didn’t exist for me anymore. Maybe this, laying in Nick’s arms with the brine of the ocean caressing our skin…maybe this was as close to normal as I was ever going to get.

  Nick raked the hair away from my face and kissed the top of my head. Maybe this was the new normal.

  I could get used to it.

  Epilogue

  Nick

  Even after over one hundred years of life, the death of someone you love never gets easier. But Sabre was right—Emari became a treasure to the Caphar. She gifted many of us with the ability to share our powers with others, though none, even now, has come close to the abilities she possesses with the aid of the spider, Ari.

  Thomas wasn’t the last Rephaim we had to eliminate. But with his death, the target engraved on our chests vanished, and life grew much more peaceful. Together with other Caphar, we eradicated all of the Rephaim from the face of the Earth. Though none carried the brutality of Thomas. I suppose even in such a small population there’s bound to be one sociopath.

  Adrian and Celeste still live in their Tudor mansion on the South Hill. Emma finally looks like a young adult, all grown up, and works with the county ASPCA. I am sure her crafty, endowed fingers work their magic on some of the animals that come into her care. Peter joined the Air Force and is stationed in Japan. Despite Emma’s innate abilities, Peter’s genes are thankfully normal.

  Ivy and Molly are still close friends, but Ives couldn’t handle the stress associated with Molly’s line of work. She still drops by on a regular basis, and drags Emari to midnight showings of Rocky Horror, or the latest vampire movie release. Em still sees Molly when she goes into town to consult on a case.

  Jesse has become the chink in Emari’s armor. Doctors diagnosed him with Early Onset Alzheimer’s. Despite all my rationale, the woman still believes the disease was caused by her fledgling abilities at restoring his memories. I’m not sure even Sabre, with his vast stores of knowledge, would be able dissuade her from her hypothesis. She works almost daily digging in the dusty leather-bound tomes from Asa for a remedy that will save his life.

  The magical spider, Ari, rested upon Em’s breast until the final Wraith was destroyed. Now, she nests in her bejeweled mahogany box on Emari’s dressers. Em won’t allow a single dust mote to light on the spider’s titanium and ruby body, and takes the creature out each week to maintain a fresh link to the magic. The occasional blood sacrifice still makes me squeamish—not because of the blood—I’ve seen plenty of that to last several lifetimes. But even after all this time, she still seems to glory in the pain. It answers some deep, dark fascination within her that I’ve never been able to understand.

  Sabre’s home and all his worldly belongings were willed to me—the closest thing to family in his life. He’d made some sound, long-term investments over the years, and I was a bit surprised to discover the wealth the man had acquired. We turned the house into a Caphar training center and crash pad. Caphar from all over the Inland Empire know the facility is open to them anytime. It’s become a haven to some, and training arena to others. Weavers come from around the world, as news spreads regarding Em’s gifts, to be taught by her and acquire new abilities.

  Between Emari’s inheritance and mine, we live a comfortable life, as normal as it gets when you’re an immortal with, as yet, mortal children. We still live in her cottage in the woods, though we’ve had to expand a bit to accommodate the kids.

  I watch her, on those rare times she sleeps. Still so beautiful. Still, in so many ways, so innocent. Even after all she’s been through. She’s always been my little Caphar warrior—even when life had beaten her down so low she preferred death over life. Little more than a child when I first met her, now she is a strong, intelligent woman who’s captured and enthralled my heart. Anything she asks, I will do. I love her beyond measure. She is my soul mate, my life source, my lover and my friend. I can do nothing less than honor my mentor’s wish, and cherish her all the days of our lives.

  *

  Emari

  Two strawberry blonde-haired children race through the Spring sun, dodging tufts of wild grass and towering Ponderosa pines. Their laughter echoes back to the deck of the little cottage in the woods where their father and I lean on the rail watching their play. The girl, seven, and the boy, five, play a game of wild horses running free on the range. A new beagle pup gallivants about at their heels. The old one, so brave and so strong, lays sprawled at my feet. His muzzle is grizzled and his eyes milky. He’s protected me for all the years of his life, in ways that go far beyond a simple guard dog. He warned me of the Rephaim whenever they drew near, defended against prowlers around my little cottage in the woods. And now, the son of his son will roam his sire’s pawprints across the twenty wooded acres—and our hearts.

  We named our daughter Janey Jewel—after my mother—but Jane was the name that stuck. Her friends at school have started calling her J.J. I think I’m okay with that. And when Zecharias Sabre came along, the name was too big of a mouthful for the toddling girl, so Sabre stuck to him—though he answers to his sister’s taunts of ‘snot bucket’ on occasion.

  Long walks down to Dead Man’s Creek are still a common occurrence. Sabre swears he’ll be a herpetologist when he grows up. Each time he captures a tiny green frog in the cold mountain run-off and plunks it in a gallon mayonnaise jar that boils with the critters, or captures a yellow-striped garter snake at the railroad tracks, he is ecstatic beyond measure.

  Nick’s arms slide around my waist and he nuzzles my ear. His soft hum of satisfaction is proof, he’s never in his life been happier or more content. There have been no Wraith to destroy our tranquility since before the children were born. Their devastation is a distant memory buried beneath an avalanche of good fortune.

  “Do you think they will manifest as Caphar?” I ask him, though my eyes never leaves their play.

  “With two Caphar parents, it’s likely.”

  “They’ll have to die.” The words constrict my throat.

  “When the time comes, are you willing to kill them?” he breathes in my ear. The thought clenches my heart like a vice.

  “No. I can’t.”

  “Would it be so bad to have them with us for centuries to come?” he argues.

  “Could you?”

  This time, his heart thunders against my back. “No, I guess not.”

  “Should we tell them their heritage?” Parenthood brings more questions than answers.

  “When the time comes.”

  The boy tags the girl in a game that evolved from wild horses to a game of tag. She topples over a clump of spring flowers, taking her brother to the ground with her. Our feet are in motion before the cry leaves her lips.

  “Mama! Sabre knocked me down,” she cries.

  “Jane, it was an accident and you know it,” I scold her but scoop her into my lap anyway to examine the abrasion on her knee. The pup, Atticus, nuzzles up under her arm and licks the blood from her knee.

  Jane’s ey
es twitch to and fro, like reading a book. Her lips move like a silent prayer. Softly, softly the words get louder. “Accident,” she whispers as though she’s working to convince herself. “Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident.” My breath catches in my chest.

  “Janey? What are you doing, honey?” I ask.

  “Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident,” she continues. I give her a little shake.

  “Janey?”

  “What mama?” she asks, so sweet and innocent.

  “What are you doing? Why do you keep saying ‘accident’?”

  She’s caught in a memory loop. Nick murmurs in my mind.

  My heart vaults with panic. Is this what I want for my children—for them to be like us?

  “Nuh uh! I only said it once!” she protests.

  I gaze up at my husband, still with the question of their heritage burning in my mind. Should we tell them what we are? Is this life of semi-immortality really what we want for them? Can we stand by and watch them grow old and die, while we age a year for every decade of their lives?

  A knowing, convoluted smile plays at the corners of Nick’s mouth.

  When the time comes, he assures me. When it comes.

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  It would be impossible to name all the amazing people who have supported this crazy dream over the last few years. To list so many names would take pages and pages in the smallest font possible. But alas, I will list a few that have had an impact on my life and writing. Again, to the incredible Kandy Kay Scaramuzzo, the Super Horse Woman of Texas; to Christoph Fischer, who always has an encouraging word; to Khalid Muhammad, for all things geek speak; to Jennifer Del Visco, without whose help none of the Dream Weaver books would be getting the attention that they are; to Jim Moser who is the voice of logic; to Mark Wilson who was brave enough to spam my email box and has become a fast friend. If I forget anyone please forgive me but know that the appreciation still overflows me.

  And always, always, thanks to my family: my husband, Ben; my beautiful daughters, Aundraic and Sarah; and my ornery sons, Jack and Josiah. My greatest support and cheerleaders have been my mom and dad, Jane and Aubrey Williams. Their encouragement and support in uncountable ways has been a true blessing to me and I cherish them above any treasure. To my sissy, Linda and her amazing husband, Bob, who have supported this project so long in so many ways.