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

by Stasia Morineaux

  “What are you going to do Iliana? Walk back to Los Angeles?” Gideon asked, not even turning in his seat or looking my way. Calling me by my new name. He had a point. Everything I had was at Liam’s, and though I knew my way back, I didn’t have a key. But anywhere but here, with them, was better. An improvement to all of this.

  “Iliana?” This time it was Liam.

  And him. Why had I left L.A. with him? Why had I believed him? So what if someone—several someones—had walked through me. Had they actually? Or did I just think they had? Where was the factual, solid proof that what they said was true? Maybe my hand passing through the door knob was hallucinatory, a result of the power of suggestion and really strong, really awesome drugs.

  Liam stood up, started to move toward me. I touched my fingers to my lips, remembering the feel of his kisses. I’d wanted those kisses, loved those kisses—craved more. My lips still felt plumped from them.

  “No.” I said against those thoughts. It tore from me as some sort of sob. “This is insanity.”

  “Whether you find it to be insane or not, does not change the fact that it is indeed real.” Gideon pointed out.

  I turned, shut my mind to them and ran from that room, from that coffee house with the idiotic apropos moniker. I ran in the rain and slowed only when I realized neither of them was following me.

  Why hadn’t they followed?

  ~ Chapter Six ~

  Where was I going? I didn’t know anyone in Seattle—not anymore. I didn’t have my cell phone, or tablet, or even my purse. I only had a twenty dollar bill that I’d stuffed into my back pocket.

  So I wandered. I wandered and replayed it all over and over in my mind. I roamed all around the Capitol Hill area, staying to the shadows, and when that seemed unsafe and ridiculous, I ventured to Broadway, where I stared into shop windows, and then stopped my pointless meandering at a Thai restaurant.

  The smell had stopped me in my tracks; the amazing smell of cooking food—real food—making my mouth water, my stomach grumble. I was lured in easily. Seemed to be a habit.

  Once I was sitting, just how tired I was washed over me again and I melted into the red vinyl seat of the booth. I ordered a pot of hot jasmine tea and an order of spring rolls. I was suddenly starving, and I was soaked through from the rain.

  I had to figure this out. This was not a dream. That much was obvious to me. As much as I may want it to be ersatz, every moment was too clear, lucid, and coherent. Dreams did not work that way.

  I was on my second pot of tea when Liam found me at the far back corner of the restaurant. Huddled sadly and pathetically, hair still wet with rain even though I’d tried drying it with napkins, in my out-of-the-way booth. He sat down across from me, uninvited, much like our first meeting. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t acknowledge him in anyway. I just drank my tea, and shivered.

  A smart phone slid across the table, picture up to me. It was Facebook. It was my Facebook page. So, here was my proof. My wall was covered, overflowing, with sadness and remembrances. A flooding of condolences. A plethora after only twenty four hours.

  For my death.

  My untimely, mysterious death.

  I shoved his phone back across the table at him. My mind was an explosion. Blindness.

  I must have begun to leave, because I found myself being pulled back down into the booth by him, to his side of the booth.

  “I know it’s not easy. I know it’s scary. I know it’s horrible, and I’m sorry—so sorry. But it has happened, it is happening. And now we have to deal with this Iliana,” he spoke in a gentle manner, using my new name again. He held my face in his hands, staring intently at me. His touch so warm on my still chilled skin.

  I was shaking my head, and he was making it nod within the support of his hands. Such a silly, simple gesture, but it made me laugh, softly, very softly and barely, but still a laugh. And then I was crying. In his arms. Folded against him crying. The tears invisible against his rain drenched jacket.

  “Please tell me that it’s faked. That you hacked my account and posted all of those,” I hiccupped into his chest.

  “If you don’t believe those, check the web. There are several websites that have write-ups on you, what happened. It’s real Iliana.” He paused.

  His arms felt so good to be back in, that I let the name use slide, though I hated it.

  “I’m sorry. I wish that it was just a hoax, a very bad one, but it’s all valid.” He wiped his thumbs gently under my eyes, wiped away the new tears. I tucked into him tighter. “It doesn’t have to be awful. It is possible to start a new life, be happy with this new life.”

  “Gideon is horrible. He’s so cold. Unfeeling. So nonchalant about the end of my life.”

  “Gideon’s…just Gideon. He’s done this so many times, it’s just business as usual for him. It has to be.”

  “And for you? What about you?”

  “I’ve been doing this awhile,” he sighed

  “I wasn’t talking about your job.” I slapped my twenty down on the table and stood up; hurried from the restaurant.

  All of this was beyond bad enough without trying to figure out the whole snogging thing.

  “Come on Iliana.” He caught the tail of my coat as I stormed up the sidewalk. The rain had lessened, was just softly misting now. “Wait up.”

  I stopped and faced him.

  “So it’s real. So I’m dead. And now I’m supposed to be some part of some…whatever it was he was talking about. And I get to work for some unfeeling jerk at a job I don’t want and I have nothing. And no one. And all the kisses meant nothing.” I moved on in the direction of his apartment. “Or can’t mean anything…or…whatever. And maybe it shouldn’t, I mean really,” I laughed.

  Hmm, did that sound borderline hysterical?

  “What was I thinking? You tell me I’m dead and I make out with you? That’s crazy. You we’re just doing your job—soothe the newbie, keep her calm and under control. I get it. So don’t worry about it. It’s done. Forgotten. Absolutely.”

  It felt mean and I felt a twinge of viciousness as the words finished passing my lips.

  Because I knew the kisses weren’t just nothing, not to me and not to him either. I’d been with guys who didn’t care…and this had been different, had felt different. But still, I was hurting and childishly I wanted him to hurt too. And it’s not as though he didn’t deserve them with all of his push-and-pull indecisiveness.

  All the way to his place he was silent. Very downcast and brooding as he unlocked his door.

  I was still full of indignation and not quite finished. “And you know what? Gideon is just going to have to…”

  “Have to what, Sweetness?”

  Gideon.

  My heart jumped into my throat, wedged like a lump of ice.

  Gideon was here.

  Waiting on the couch. I turned to Liam, but he was already up the hall, his bedroom door slamming.

  “Nothing,” I lied. All the fire dissolved from me again.

  “Ah. But we both know that nothing is always something.” He smiled that disarming smile, but his eyes were flint, the smile didn’t touch them. “Sit. Relax.”

  “I’d rather stand.” I was without oxygen again.

  He stared at me, his head cocked to one side, his eyes narrowed. “So spit it out. What were you saying to Liam? I’d love to hear it.”

  Should I say it? Tell him what I was really thinking about him? Could he take this life from me? What little of a life it was. Why was he here, and how had I ended up alone with him again?

  And what was that feeling? A prickling up the back of my neck, a sharpness through my mind, the humming rapidly shifting throughout my body. That whisper wrapping through my psyche.

  ~Milseachd ~

  I fought it, gritted my teeth against it. “I was just telling Liam how you need to stop being such an ass.” And there it was. Out. A giant matzo ball. Did his left eye just twitch? Oh, he did not look too ple
ased at all.

  “Excuse me?” He stood and I backed up a step before I realized that I was even moving.

  He was tall. I’d been absolutely correct. I’d have to go with the six feet five inch guess.

  He looked even more formidable now. Broader in the shoulders than he’d seemed when seated, and he exuded that power.

  But my mouth was on a roll. “You need to stop being an ass. You’re cold and unfeeling, and you could have handled all of this with me, I’m sure, in a much better way. There had to be a better way. It might be same-old-bullshit-day for you, but for me this was monumental. Did you forget that? Has it been so long since it happened to you that you don’t remember? What it was like to lose everything, everyone that meant anything to you. To be ripped away from it all. Or maybe you were never human. Maybe you were always…this.” I spit out that last word with a touch of disgust.

  My heart was pounding, racing with a cocktail of anger and fear—he had moved across the room and planted his feet firmly in front of me.

  The way he moved and walked was all quiet resolute power, and dominance.

  “You’re treading a fine line. You need to rein it in and be careful,” he said ominously.

  “Or what? What Gideon?” Why did his name feel so good on my tongue? No! Stupid, stupid thought! The air around us felt heated, charged. I moved closer to him. I wanted him to feel how much I hated him. I wanted him to feel the waves of it rolling off of me. Willed it. “What else can you do?” I challenged.

  “I’m your Cerberus.” Deadly cold.

  “Not mine.” Just as low, just as lethal.

  “Yours.”

  And there it was… weaving softly through my mind, down my spine.

  Yours.

  And the scent of amber, myrrh, frankincense; smoky and woodsy and spicy—a slight hint of carnation—making my head swim.

  And then the floor was rushing up to me. And my head fell back, suddenly heavy and floating at the same time. Then arms around me, just before I would have struck the floor. Strong arms—and that scent, that wonderful, mesmerizing scent—wrapped around me, lifted me.

  “Iliana.” That voice. Gideon’s voice. Deep and rumbly. Just the right timbre that struck me in some mystifying way. And I was there, but not there, unable to even lift my arms to wrap around him. That would have been nice.

  Safe…Sábháilte

  The word whispered through my head.

  The room moved in and out of focus.

  “Liam! Get in here!” And then Gideon’s face so close

  to mine, but those eyes weren’t burning darkly with anger. There was something else in them. Something that made me feel…taken aback, shaken, not in an unpleasant way, but in a faraway sense. I felt there and somewhere else at the same time. Was it worry that I saw in them? True concern? Maybe a hint, a tiny hint of tenderness? My skin felt like Sprite was bubbling just under the surface, and I couldn’t move, but the tingling, bubbling sensation made me giggle ever so slightly. The sound felt far from me, as If I was hearing someone across the room, not my own voice.

  It wasn’t fair that Death, or his associates, were so beautiful. Thankfully, I passed out, my eyes slipping closed, before I could utter the words that were settled on the tip of my tongue.

  That I could look into his eyes forever.

  Somehow I don’t think that would have gone over very well with him after calling him an ass.

  Voices. I could hear voices fading in and out, bits of conversation. Liam and Gideon, they sounded worried, maybe even fearful.

  “I’ve never seen this happen before.” Gideon murmured. “Who the hell is she?”

  “I watched the Lanmhuchadh serve her the tainted drink, he signaled before so I could cull her. How is she not Lissa? How is she not the right one?”

  “I’m waiting on those answers.”

  “She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” Liam countered.

  “I need to make more calls. Nothing about this, about her, has been usual. She was not the one on our notice. She’s not human. But if she was Sióg she’d know all of this already.”

  “Something about her is…so different.”

  “She’s more…something more than we were expecting.”

  ~ Chapter Seven ~

  I woke up slowly, not ready yet to let go of my dreams. As strange as they were, I was having a great time. A dream of adventure and love and death.

  Of course death.

  I had flown up above the tree tops in the night sky, just skimming the tops of the trees and buildings, the houses.

  At one point I was sitting in a huge tree, perched high up in its branches, watching people below me. Searching them.

  Parts were blurry, parts were distinct. I remember becoming something, not quite me.

  I was confronting a person. I think he may have been a criminal. I felt scared, stupid for being there.

  It was a dark and unfamiliar area, a park or maybe the countryside, and he’d been approaching me.

  Threatening.

  The word had come to me like a wave washing into me. And I knew he was dangerous. With all certainty I knew. But I stood my ground. I stood there as he came closer—and then I glowed.

  My skin warmed and tingled. I saw a radiance, an aura, an energy, a warm luminosity emerge from me, spread out and surround him. And his face changed. The dark scowl slackened. His eyes changed. The danger faded away. A gun dropped to the ground. He fell to his knees.

  The glowing…whatever that came from me surged into his chest. I could feel it, a connection, it wrapped throughout him. Around his soul. All danger was gone. I had changed him. And I felt changed.

  I walked away without a word.

  ~ Chapter Eight ~

  I sat up, pushing the soft chenille blanket away, quietly padding to the bathroom.

  Shocking! How was this remotely possible? To wake up and look like this—this good?

  So, I guess maybe there was a slight perk to this thing. I looked fresh, beautiful, luminous. This would take some getting used to. I mean, that face in the reflection looked like me, but it really didn’t in some ways.

  I turned my head from left to right, inspecting myself. It was like seeing a perfectly Photo Shopped image. Even that little scar on my jaw that I’d been sporting since I was nine, from a beach accident, had vanished.

  I splashed some cool water on my face and swished with some mouthwash that I’d found beneath the vanity, before heading back to the living room.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, untangling—all of two tangles—and smoothing the long silky curls and waves as I walked.

  My eyes landed on Liam, still splayed out in the exact same position in the chair, still fast asleep.

  Was he still angry at me? Was he still sunken deep in remorse?

  I pondered what to do. Should I wake him, or wait on the couch until he woke on his own? I was much to angsty to be still for very long. What was to happen today? Where was Gideon? Would I have to see him again today? That consideration made me shake. Dread? Or eagerness?

  I paced back and forth in front of Liam, eventually kneeling in front of him. I wanted today to start, but I kind of didn’t. I wanted to talk to him, but I kind of didn’t.

  So, I just stared at him instead.

  Watching him. Studying him. He was beautiful. Still unshaved. His face was relaxed. Unworried. Unstressed. Unangry at me. Looking at him like this, in sleep, and feeling so vulnerable and alone myself, I found my animosity for him fading away.

  And I couldn’t resist.

  I leaned forward, his jean clad thigh grazing my waist as I shifted in closer to his outstretched body, that wonderful face. Softer than Gideon’s, yet just as strong. The sun slanted through the window behind the chair, beams of warmth streaked across us, soothing, inviting. The rays were hitting the top of his head, warming the colors of his hair, bringing out the red and gold in his light brown shaggy mane.

  I very softly ran my fingertips along his jaw, his botto
m lip. My eyes lingering there, remembering the good part of yesterday, before I ran, before things became even more deeply confusing.

  His eyelids flickered open and it only took two heartbeats for him to slide his hands into my hair and pull me to him. “You’re awake,” he spoke softly against my mouth, relief in his voice. His mouth hovered over mine, resisting.

  I attempted to move into his, but his hands held my head immobile. His breath was warm on my lips. He pulled slightly away, looked in my eyes, there was relief there too. No anger.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up,” he breathed. It was so nice not to see any self reproach on his face, or temper in his eyes.

  “I don’t know what happened,” I told him. “I was yelling at Gideon…and then I was dizzy…falling.” I shrugged. His face was too close not to be kissed, and I was overly conscious of every inch of where our bodies touched; his thigh against my waist, my arm against his side, the other alongside his shoulder. His hands holding my face.

  “Ah, sod it,” he growled before he pulled me in and kissed me, obliterating from my mind any thought of asking him what I’d heard, about being different, not human, not—

  One arm went around my waist and tugged me gently to collapse against his chest and stomach. My arms circled him and I was lost in him again.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Too soon, always too soon, I felt him pulling away from me, his mind clearing. Once again the idea that we were not supposed to be doing this interrupted my escape and my bliss.

  “Why do you have to be so hard to resist?” He asked into my hair.

  Oh here we go again. My heart dipped. I sighed. He was pushing me away, standing up, pulling me to stand with him. “So don’t.” No no no! My mind objected, my body right along with it.

  “I have to.” He stepped away from me. “This was my fault, I know better. I was so relieved to see you awake and so…I’ll admit it, pleased to see you where you just were…” He gestured towards the chair, but I knew he meant between his legs, leaning over him. “I didn’t think. I couldn’t think, didn’t want to.” He rubbed both of his hands through his hair, paced. “But I have to. I can’t keep doing this.”