No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1)

by Stasia Morineaux

  I watched him, waiting to see what the reaction would be. It took only a moment for a smile to slowly spread across his face. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what he was playing at. What did that grin mean for me? Could he be bribed? Could I buy him off to allow me to continue the raid on my apartment? Our eyes locked and remained that way for just a few heartbeats.

  “Feisty…I like that.” He paused looking me over. “Ok, fine, but we have to be quick. We need to get out of here. We should already be gone.”

  I grinned and made a mad dash down the stairs, dragging the remaining bag behind me. Into it I tossed a copy each of my two published novels, a vast collection of flash drives and CDs—containing all of my writing files and photos—two actual photo albums, my tablet, a few framed pix from the sofa table and break front. And my plush gator—Boudreaux.

  I was looking over the room for anything else that I just couldn’t stand to leave behind, and would not be missed, when Liam approached from the bottom of the stairs, hauling the baggage with him.

  “Thanks!” I glanced over at my CD and DVD stacks. Maybe some bribery would ease the climate. “Anything you want?”

  He shook his head solemnly, but after glancing briefly around the room—his eyes spying my quite large CD collection—he shrugged, set the luggage down and rummaged through the assortment, picking and pulling with some deliberation. That would buy me a little time for my own personal larceny.

  I hurried back up the stairs and then peeped over the railing to be sure that Liam was still occupied. He was engrossed in his task and next to him the stack was steadily growing.

  I moved to the corner of the loft and pushed back a book filled chest. Beneath that lay my treasure trove, my cash stash. I stuck the edge of my handy hedgehog letter opener into a seam of the hardwood floor and pried an entire two foot by three foot section up. What I pulled out from that hollow-hidey space was a rather large Victorian hatbox. I retrieved a roll of duct tape from my craft bin and swiftly taped the box securely closed. It was filled with greenery. Wonderful wads of twenty and one hundred dollar bills!

  It was absolutely stuffed full. I didn’t even know for sure how much was in there, I had stopped counting when it had reached five thousand. Getting my money out of the bank might prove difficult now that I was deceased. I was so glad I had started squirreling this away well over a year ago—my emergency horde. Well, this definitely qualified as an emergency.

  I hastened back downstairs. The bedroom was as cleaned out as I could do under the conditions I had to work with. I had everything that I simply could not stand to leave behind.

  “Ok. I guess that’s it.” I plunked down the hatbox with the other bags. I suddenly felt very nervous, apprehensive. What the hell was I doing? I shifted from foot to foot. I bit down on a dark burgundy fingernail. “What now?” It came out as nearly a squeak. I cleared my throat.

  Liam gathered up his plunder, a very satisfied grin on his mug. “We take all this to my car and hit the road…now.” He rather gallantly picked up the heaviest of my gear and trudged towards the door.

  I stopped for a one last glance around my life, the life that I was abandoning. This was so incredibly painful, absolute anguish.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “There’s no time left. I have to get this sorted. We have to go.”

  I frowned at him, tears in my eyes.

  “Uh, sorry…just try to speed it up a bit, this…” he gestured at my spoils, “is entirely against the rules. I shouldn’t be helping you do this.”

  “And if you had nothing to gain, I’m sure you wouldn’t be allowing it.” I paused and studied him. “So, why are you?”

  He looked daggers at me. “And this,” he waved at me from head to foot, ignoring my words, “is...I don’t know what this is about, but it won’t make anything easier if we get caught leaving here.” He looked slightly unwell. “And may I suggest a hat?” He added, tossing me a black newsboy cap from where it hung on my wall. My favorite, glad he’d thought of it.

  ~ Chapter Three ~

  It only took nineteen hours to arrive at Liam’s place in Seattle. And grudgingly, I’d have to say it was one of the most enjoyable road trips of my life—my somewhat short life.

  Other than a few pit stops for high octane coffee, various snacks, and leg stretching, we drove straight through. I didn’t mind the lack of sight-seeing. Not only had I made this drive before, when I’d been engaged to a Seattleite boy many years before, not long after high school, but I wasn’t in the mood for any trivial chit chat.

  Sleep. I wanted the empty oblivion of sleep.

  Normally, I’d feel really guilty for leaving the driver without company and conversation, but I just didn’t care. It was his job after all, so let him do it.

  Once in the car—a very sexy midnight blue Lexus—I snuggled into the leather seat and using my coat as a pillow, rested my head against the window, settling into sleep mode; alone with my chaotic, jumbled thoughts and emotions. Nothingness is all I wanted. A straight eighteen hours or so of that, blissful unconsciousness.

  Gideon…no I didn’t…Someone cocked this up pretty bloody well, but it wasn’t me…I thought she was just having one over on me…I saw her mail…It’s Isabelle…No, she’s not Lissa…I don’t know…Her license says Isabelle Finne…No, not Lissa Ingersoll…What do you want me to say…No, she was the only dead girl there…Yes, I saw her Lanmhuchadh, I saw it happen…I don’t know what else I can tell you…She may have been, but she wasn’t dead…I’m already on my way.

  I succeeded…with about three—and they were unpleasant and full of murky conversation—and Liam had other ideas about me sleeping any more than that anyway, so it would seem.

  He decided after our first stopover—somewhere up the California coast sometime after mid-morning—to become incredibly talkative.

  He began his tête-à-tête with where he was originally from. Ireland. He’d grown up in the quaint little village of Carndonagh and then at twelve...“after my mother passed, I moved to Cnoc Na Slea with my grans. I traveled a bit with them on holidays. The usual, London, Dublin, Edinburgh, Wales, Dover, Whitby, Newcastle…I saw some wonderful things and places.

  I also had a set of grans in the Scottish countryside. I would go to stay with them summers. They had a farm, I really enjoyed that, miss it from time to time.

  Instead of going to University, I moved to London. Had

  a flat with a couple of mates. Did all the usual things one does at that age, but London, a city that size, was not quite my thing. I was missing the country, the wide green fields, the lochs, the hiking. I made my way to Wicklow Gap, in Ireland; lived in a small stone cottage on a farm outside of Enniskerry and became a farmhand. It belonged to my grans…the ones in Cnoc Na Slea. It was one of my favorite times.” He went on—and on—about places he’d lived and traveled to; adventures he’d had.

  At least I knew what his accent was, a fine blend of Irish and Scottish. His voice was beautiful, lulling in combination with the thrumming of the car’s engine; I drifted in and out of sleep. During my waking moments he surprised me with quite a few jokes, though I can’t recall any of them. I’m very bad at that under normal circumstances, but I was finding myself charmed by him, his stories and jokes. It seemed as though he was trying very hard to take my mind off of what had occurred.

  We stopped just north of San Francisco for an actual bite to eat, both of us completely sick of ‘car food’. I couldn’t imagine wanting to eat beef jerky or potato chips for quite some time.

  “I’m going to freshen up. I’ll meet you at the table.” I informed him. Nine hours ago this would have been met with an oblique glance of suspicion, but we’d passed that point of mistrust. He had questioned me the first time I’d needed a pit stop, but what was he going to do, follow me into the ladies loo and watch? Well, almost, but not quite.

  Instead, he had decided on waiting outside the door, after determining that there were no windows for me to escape through.
<
br />   We’d begun this journey with some trust issues, but I think they had narrowed down a bit. After all, as I’d told him rather simply, where was I going to go? I no longer had a home to go to, or a family or friends I could confide in. Everything and everyone was no longer accessible to this life.

  At our first rest stop, gas, and snack fill-up, I had purchased some necessary items. So I took the opportunity to brush my teeth, and fix my hair—and touch up my makeup—I don’t know why I was bothering with my makeup. Why was I? Ok! He was cute. Way beyond cute.

  And he was charming and funny.

  And had the most awesome voice.

  And oh, how I wish I’d met him some other time or under better circumstances, like that trip to Ireland that I’d always dreamed of taking.

  I stopped applying my lip balm and gazed at myself in the mirror, and sighed. What did he think of me like this? What did he think of me at all? How did he get assigned to me and why were we going all the way to Seattle? He had told me nothing; had steered clear of any conversation regarding the incident and what was going to happen— and why he was so disturbed by the way I looked.

  Did he like the way I looked? I shook my head. Stop thinking like that! You’re his job. He’s only doing his job….but he’s so cute and funny and sexy and smells so good and he’s so cute…

  I was beginning to think that spending so many hours locked in a car travelling with him, perhaps had not been the wisest choice of whoever was in charge of this mess.

  I closed my bag, giving myself one last glance as I left the ladies room.

  I had intended to be more resolute and defy his charms, to ignore the tingling sensation in my head every time he glanced at me, to eat in silence quickly and get back on the road. But Liam had other plans. He’d bought a deck of cards and rallied me into playing a round of black jack for a ‘kitty’ of mini Jolly Rancher candies— which were mostly wild cherry, my fave—while we ate our patty melts and fries.

  He had me laughing again. And more than once our fingers brushed when reaching for our winnings, causing a not all together unpleasant electric thrill to run up my spine.

  “I have questions Liam,” I said very bluntly while shuffling the cards, hoping to cash in on the playful moment we were in. “I want to know why this happened to me. Why am I supposed to be this Coimhdeacht? What is that even? I need you to explain all of this to me better. I think I’ve been pretty patient with waiting. Why were you sent to get me and why do I have to be in Seattle? Why was I chosen? Why did I have to die?” I whispered the last.

  He cut short, pulling several bills from his wallet and fixed his eyes on at me, his face suddenly impassive “I can’t tell you anymore than I already have. I’m not allowed to, that’s Gideon’s deal. We have to go. I’m sorry I can’t give you answers, but I simply don’t have them. And nothing I could tell you is going to ease what you’re going through.” He placed the cash on the table with the bill. “It’s time we move along.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “It’s all I can say, Isabelle. I wish I had more. I want to, but I don’t have the answers. Gideon only told me to retrieve you; he’ll be the one to explain it all.”

  I wasn’t happy or satisfied with his response, but as usual what could I do about it? It’s not like I could just run off and go back to my life or even start a new one. My license, my I.D., all of that official stuff…I no longer had. My name was no longer mine really. I kind of was no longer Isabelle. Who was I?

  We got back on route moments later, I felt lower than low. I felt conflicted. I snuggled back into my coat-pillow and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to like him. I only wanted to hate this person, this thing, this not quite human individual. He’d taken my life. He’d taken me away from my home and everything I loved. He may not have done so directly, but he was the one ushering me away. I didn’t want to be reeled in by his humor and allure…but I was. I liked him. He was nice. It wasn’t just a performance. I could somehow sense his sincerity, and I didn’t want to.

  I didn’t know what to make of these feelings, or the sensations that I had been experiencing for the past few hours as we drove up through the top half of California. It was so similar, too parallel, to the things I wrote of when I wrote about my vampires in my novels. Something aside from my appearance was different. Something deep inside, an energy thing. A rippling, humming, under my skin. Empowering. Strengthening.

  Liam continued to ramble on, apparently not expecting any responses from me. He was telling me about his favorite books and movies, while listening to his favorite Pandora station—Florence and the Machine. He liked action movies, thrillers, suspense, even rom-coms. Some of his favorite authors were Raymond Feist, Dean Koontz, Max Brooks, Jane Austen—wow—and that’s about the last I remember before drowsing off.

  ~ Chapter Four ~

  I woke up to the sound of rain spattering on the windshield and to find that Liam had covered me with his leather jacket. I let my eyelids drift back down.

  “Hey, Isabelle…we’re here.” He brushed some hair away from my face, gently shook my shoulder. “Let’s get you inside.”

  What a bizarre thing. To be in Long Beach one night, to die, to be whisked away to another state, to be locked away in a car for nearly twenty hours with, well…okay, I had to admit it, a very hot Irish/Scottish guy.

  The more my mind tried to wrap around it, the more surreal I felt, fantastically dreamlike, so therefore my eyes should remain closed.

  “Isabelle,” He spoke so softly, so deeply.

  I turned away from the passenger window and looked at him, blinking the heavy sleep from my eyes.

  Waking up to Liam leaning over me wasn’t so bad. Nice consolation prize.

  His face was scruffy from lack of shaving, his hair even more disheveled…I could imagine how bad I must look.

  I stared out the windshield, watched the rivulets of rain traversing down. It was evening and the street lamps had already come on. “Seattle,” I said blandly.

  “Capitol Hill.” He just sat there, waiting, looking at me.

  “I know the area. It’s been a long time,” I said with a small sardonic smile on my lips, a diminutive shake of my head. “There was a time when I wanted to live here…long time ago. Kind of ironic that’s it’s here…your place, I mean.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Long story. Ancient history.” I rubbed under my eyes, hoping—ridiculously—that I looked halfway decent.

  “You look beautiful still,” he said softly, his eyes moving over my face. “You alright?”

  I shrugged. I should just say no. Now that we were here, all the reality came crashing back down. I couldn’t pretend anymore, somewhere in my mind, that I was on a fun, absolutely normal road trip. But I guess ‘ok’ was as close as I was getting. “Sure, I guess.”

  Liam stroked my cheek, and I felt that mysterious ‘otherness’ of him. Did I feel that way too now?

  I touched his stubble-rough cheek. “You’re all scruffy,” I said simply, drowsy still.

  “Yeah, well…” He shrugged.

  I didn’t want to leave the car; the closed in safeness, and sameness, and warmth of his car. Once I set foot out of it, the next step to this new life—unlife—would begin. And for now I was still me, the old me…sort of.

  He was still leaning over me, across the center console, still looking at me, as if her were trying to read my thoughts through my face, my eyes.

  And then I was kissing him, kissing Death—or Death’s assistant—or an employee from Death’s office—or whatever! I’d gone from touching his cheek, to running my hand into the spiky mess of his hair, to the back of his head…pulling him to me. And his mouth was wonderful. And he kissed me back with no hesitation. It had been so long, way too long, since I’d kissed. And it made me remember long ago crazy fun nights. Music and laughter; concerts and parties with friends. Care free, wild, and spontaneous.

  And then he broke the kiss.

&
nbsp; Smiling.

  There was only the sound of our breathing and the rain hitting the car.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for at least the last five hundred miles.” He breathed into my hair, and then rested his forehead to mine. “Let’s get you inside,” he spoke softly.

  I shook my head.

  “You planning on sleeping in here?” he grinned.

  “I don’t want to sleep.”

  He retreated to his side of the car, took the keys, and stepped out into the rain.

  I sighed. What was I doing? I put the seat back upright and pulled his coat off of me. It was so warm, and now I really felt the chill of the Seattle evening as he opened my door, offering his hand to help me out. I shook my head again. “What happens next?” I asked.

  “We go upstairs. I take your things, and you, and we go up to my apartment. Maybe have some tea,” he looked at his watch, “or maybe an ale.”

  I shook my head, not taking his hand, not moving from the spot. He merely looked at me, questioningly.

  “It just seems to me that once I get out of this car, nothing will ever be the same, I’ll be gone for good? I don’t know…”

  He reached both arms in around me and pulled me out. I stumbled, unbalanced, and fell against him. He held me there to him.

  “See…still here. Nothing to be afraid of.” He released me and went to pull my belongings from the trunk. My body missed the heat of his, and I shivered.

  Liam’s apartment was on the second floor of a converted Queen Anne style house. It was nicer than I had imagined he’d have, I don’t know why. I somehow thought he’d have something more modern and perhaps in downtown, a high-rise perhaps. I liked this better. It was a little cluttered, but in a good way; lived in and full of warmth.