Dream Weaver (Dream Weaver #1)

by Su Williams

  “I can’t believe how much I’ve slept lately,” I commented offhand.

  “You’re body and mind are exhausted from the poor sleep you have been getting. It’s their way of catching up and healing themselves. You haven’t had a real decent night’s sleep in several months.”

  We sat on the couch facing each other, our knees touching, our fingers intertwined. Though I still wasn’t brave enough to discuss subjects like the Wraith in any great detail, there was so much more I wanted to know. “Okay. So you said that angels came to Earth and took the daughters of men as wives, and produced the Nephilim. And most people typically interpret that as being giants. The Caphar received other ‘angelic’ traits, like genes passed down through the bloodlines?”

  “Yes. And many theologians believe that evil became rampant on the Earth mostly due to the introduction of Nephilim into the world and that is why God sent the flood. But the Bible also says the Nephilim were here both before and after the flood.”

  “So who was the first Dream Weaver?” I asked.

  “Prior to the flood, no irrefutable evidence exists of identifiable Dream Weavers as no memories of that time exist. Joseph is the first documented and probably most well known Weaver of Biblical times. Joseph was also the first to have the ability to memoryprint.” I squirmed a little. Nick was beginning to sound like a pastor. “There are others, as well. Remember the story of Daniel and the lion’s den?”

  “Of course. They teach that story in toddler class in Sunday school.”

  “Daniel interpreted visions and dreams. The kings of the time made use of his abilities to interpret their dreams. King Nebuchadnezzar threatened to destroy all of the magicians and soothsayers in the land unless they could not only tell him his dream, but also interpret it. This was beyond the ability of the magicians of the time and all of them were in danger of losing their lives. Daniel sought God and used his abilities to draw the dream out of the kings memory and then interpret it.

  “Years later, his faith brought on the jealousy of the other princes of the land, who sought out ways to kill him not only because of his abilities, but also because of his favor in the eyes of King Darius. The princes conspired and found a way to destroy Daniel by sending him to a den of ravenous lions.”

  I nodded, contemplating this information and slid down into the couch cushions. Nick gathered me closer to his side and ran his fingers down the length of my arm. He breathed in my scent, absorbed the sensation of my hair tickling his lips and cheeks. I pressed my head to his chest, and traced the contours of his chest and shoulder and down his arm with my fingertips. Native drums beat in his chest. I closed my eyes, captivated by its rhythm.

  “So, how do you know all this stuff?”

  “Like human Bible stories, the Weavers have memory legends of their own bequeathed from one generation to the next. Most of us retain this specific memory in our personal mental archives. Sabre also has a journal that he’s kept almost from the beginning—well, his beginning. He keeps a lot of info in there. He documents his research very thoroughly.”

  “Okay. So, like, you have memories from Joseph and Daniel? Their actual memories?” This didn’t seem possible. Those memories would have to be at least three thousand years old.

  “Uh huh.”

  “No. No way.”

  “Honest, Emari. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ll show you sometime,” he grinned.

  “Huh,” I huffed and settled into silence to ponder the impossible.

  We sat quietly for several minutes, enjoying the shared body heat. Unfortunately, the coarse crunch of tires in the frozen snow out on the road and the slamming of a car door effectively shattered our tranquility.

  Good grief! What now?

  It must be for me. Sabre would just phase or something. I went to the kitchen and spotted Ivy at the kitchen door. The look on her sweet face told all. She had already heard the news. Jesse’s brother was the rapist. I threw a desperate look at Nick and he nodded toward the front door. Vehemently, I shook my head and hissed, “Stay.”

  He huffed a quiet laugh and kicked back on the sofa. “Maybe you are a wuss.”

  I glowered over my shoulder at him as I went to the kitchen door to meet Ivy. As soon as the door was open and her foot over the threshold, she crumbled into my arms with a quiet sob. “Em. Jesse. I can’t believe. That bastard.” If her anguish hadn’t been so profound, I might have laughed at her inability to finish a sentence. This was so out of character for her. I guided her into the warmth of the kitchen and closed the door. I knew this was coming, but hadn’t expected it quite this quickly. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered over and over, “It’s okay, Baby. It’s okay.”

  “How can you, of all people, say that?” she finally sputtered.

  “Ivy. Of all people, wouldn’t I know?” I reasoned.

  She half laughed at this and blew her nose into a paper towel I’d retrieved for her. “I can’t believe it was Jesse’s brother. I hope he quits or gets fired or something.”

  “Why would you hope that?”

  “Ugh! It’s his brother!” she pressed, as if it made perfect sense.

  I took my hands from her shoulders and folded my arms across my chest as I comprehended, ‘that bastard’ was as much Jesse in her eyes as it was his brother. “Hmph,” I snorted at her. “So, during freshman year when your brother, Toby stole Principal Mohney’s Mini Cooper and parked it in the commons, they should have nailed you for the crime too, huh?”

  She scowled at the memory of her brother’s prank, subsequent expulsion and threat of arrest on grand theft auto charges. “Of course not! Toby is an idiot. I would never have stolen Brother Ray’s car.”

  “Of course, and Jesse would never hurt me,” I defended. “You can’t convict him of being guilty simply by association, even if it is by blood.”

  She raised her hands in front of her and rubbed her right palm. Her shoulders slumped and she stared silently at the floor. Her face twisted with guilt. She rocked up on her toes and back on her heels.

  “Ivy. What have you done?”

  “I sorta…,” she mumbled the rest, quickly and unintelligibly, but it sounded like she had perpetrated some sort of violence on someone, probably Jesse.

  “What? You did what?”

  “I bitch slapped him. Okay?!” With a look of pleading, her eyes shot to my face and then quickly away.

  I grabbed her by the arms again and gave her the smallest shake, but she crumbled again. I wrapped my arms around her, catching all the pieces. “I’m sorry, Em. I don’t know what happened. I was just so angry. I just hauled off and smacked him in the face as hard as I could. I wanted to hit him some more, over and over again, but it hurt my hand, just with the first one, so I just screamed at him and shoved him and he just stood there and took it like he thought he deserved it too and then I ran away because his eyes looked so wounded like you could see how broken his heart was over everything and I was only confirming what he already believed and…oh my gosh. I should call him.” She was quiet for a half of a breath. “I should call him, huh?”

  At this point, I was holding her at arm’s length, amused and shocked. My tiny little Ivy, sweet petite Ivy just beat up a guy twice her size. That’s my girl! I thought proudly. If only it had been anyone but Jesse. Or even Jesse, just not right now. Just bad timing. Really bad timing. She took my hand and dragged me into the living room but stopped short when she spied my guest. I crashed into her.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed then melted into a grin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I mean…”

  I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s okay. Nick and I were just talking.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  Ivy played the role of yenta and ultimate matchmaker when it came to my love life. She was always looking for some guy to hook me up with. I guess the idea of my solitude made her as unhappy as it made Nick. She was overjoyed that I’d found someone to keep me company. That he was incredibly hot was only icing on t
he cake to her.

  “Um. Maybe I should go.”

  I tugged on her arm. “I’d like it if you stayed a while. Please. I’ve really missed you.”

  Her normally placid blue eyes turned to a tempest of liquid blue. She threw her arms around my neck and sobbed quietly. “I’ve missed you, too. It’s just so good to actually see that you’re really okay.”

  I knew what she meant. Sometimes, being able to see something with your own eyes and touch it with your own hands made the uncertain real. It was completely the opposite of faith; believing without seeing. It was seeing and then being assured in the reality and tangibility of a thing. Under the circumstances, I couldn’t begrudge her even a small amount of faithlessness.

  I dragged her into the living room, fell into Nick’s waiting arms, and pulled her down next to me, wrapping my arms around her. “You’re staying,” I informed her.

  “Thanks,” she sighed and relaxed into me. “I really don’t want to interrupt anything,” she tried one last unconvincing protest. She was more than happy to stay.

  We joked and giggled, prodded each other in the ribs like junior high girls in choir class. Poor Nick must have thought we were absurd little girls with all this carrying on but he sat back with an amused grin on his face, watching silently.

  Ivy covertly put her scrawny little finger in her mouth, then reached over and poked the wet, slobbery thing into my ear. I hated Wet Willies, but I giggled anyway as I squirmed in protest and poked her in the ribs again. Eventually, we settled down. Sort of.

  We sank lower and lower into the couch, reclining like a bunch of toppled dominoes; Ivy leaned on me, her head on my shoulder, I leaned on Nick, my head on his shoulder and Nick slouched down into the couch. Nick’s arm rested around my shoulders and he gently placed his hand on the back of Ivy’s head. Ivy froze and drew in a breath dramatically. “Okay,” she said, sitting up and glaring at me. “If you guys are into anything kinky like ménage-a-whatever, you can count me out!” She giggled quietly and I pinched her thigh. Of course, she knew better. She knew me better. It was all a scene for Nick, trying to freak out the new guy.

  “Well, actually,” I said slyly, playing into her joke, “I was hoping I could…” In one quick sweep, I knocked Ivy on her back and pounced on her. I straddled her body, and pinned her under me. I tickled her until she screamed and gulped for air, the way we use to do and hadn’t done in a very long time. Nick sat back chuckling quietly, while I continued my tickle torture of Ivy.

  “I’m gonna pee. I’m gonna pee,” she protested and continued screaming.

  Amidst her shrieks of protest, the front door suddenly exploded open. Nick was on his feet in an instant, crouched for a fight, every muscle tight, while I pushed Ivy behind me, my body between her and the threat. Time froze. Every muscle stiffened and I held my breath while I took in the entire scene. Finally, I focused on the face of the intruder that had battering-rammed my front door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nick relax his combat stance.

  Sabre continued to glare around the room for the cause of the commotion, his chest heaving from the exertion of ramming down my door. Ivy whimpered quietly behind me, and Nick and I exchanged apologetic looks.

  Nick grabbed Sabre by the arm, and forcibly dragged him into the kitchen. I hauled Ivy off the floor and tried to unwind her, as well.

  I imagined what this must have sounded like to the battle-ready Sabre, a man from a time that the chivalry of a Union soldier was probably as vivid a memory as any from only yesterday. The screams of two women emanating from my rural cottage in the dark of night must have evoked the spirit of that fighter still in him. How do you explain that there was no emergency to a seasoned warrior? I wasn’t sure Sabre was capable of processing the concept of two silly girls just messing around.

  After a few tense moments of low, rumbling conversation in the kitchen, Sabre stalked back to the front door. “I apologize, my lady,” he said formally but using the familiar endearment. “I heard the screams and assumed the worst. I am sorry for frightening you. Both of you,” he nodded to Ivy, who forced a smile and fake laugh.

  “It’s all good, Sabre. We were just goofing off. You know. Playing. Perhaps you should ease up a bit and try it some time.” My relationship with Sabre was tenuous at best. I only hoped he would get the humor in my tone.

  “Perhaps.” Sabre’s eyes narrowed, his brow knit together. He dipped his head in a contrite farewell, reassessed the room one last time and harrumphed as he walked out the door. He lifted and pulled at the door to get it to shut properly behind him.

  I leapt from the couch, ran to the door and tugged it open in one last attempt to harangue him about my broken door. But I was too late. He had already vanished into a sparkling swirl that mixed with the snow and dissipated.

  Nick sat quietly for the next couple of hours, listening to Ivy and me tell stories of our childhood escapades. His warm hand caressed my neck and he raked his fingers through my hair. I could feel a gentle pull as he tugged on the strings of long-buried memories, bringing them to the surface for me to remember. He was intrigued with the closeness that Ivy and I shared, and the silly, crazy things we did in our younger days.

  We watched a couple of movies, chick flicks that I hated subjecting Nick to. He didn’t seem to mind at all, though he did drift away during one exceptionally sappy scene to find some tools and repair the damage to my front door.

  Ivy and I made some dinner and ate, continuing our girl gab, while Nick went by the house to check in with Sabre, and ran a couple of quick errands. He returned later that evening with our favorite ice cream, Pink Bubblegum from the shop at the Y, and fresh movie theater popcorn from the Village. We all cuddled up on the couch for another movie; Jimmy Stewart’s, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’—Ivy’s favorite-must-see-every-year Christmas movie. I kept a copy around especially for her. I flashed a teasing smile at Nick during the scene about how angels get their wings. As if angels even had wings.

  Ivy’s eyes drooped and her head on my shoulder grew heavier as the hours grew later, but this was the most peaceful she’d been since before the attack and she was reluctant to leave. Of course, she had no idea how much Nick had to do with that. Her exhausted body finally drooped against my side and I couldn’t find it in my heart to move her. I felt Nick move his hand from my shoulder to her head.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  Nick pressed a finger to his lips, feigning a stern look. His breath tickled my ear. “Just because a person is asleep doesn’t mean their ears stop hearing. Be very still and I’ll try to show you at the same time.”

  “But…” I protested. I was pretty sure this wasn’t like his eavesdropping on Jesse’s memories, but it concerned me, nonetheless.

  “Trust me.”

  Finally, I nodded and rested my cheek on Ivy’s head. Nick guided Ivy’s sleep, making it peaceful and deep. He manipulated her memories of recent onerous events. He tricked her brain into feeling as if the memories were farther away, as if they were not fresh, tender memories, but older more callused ones. It wasn’t that he convinced her that time had passed, just gave her the impression of distance from the memories so they weren’t so painful.

  I looked up at Nick with tears in my eyes. “You’re a very good man, Nickolas Benedetti.”

  Nick smiled and kissed my temple. “Thank you.” He gingerly slid lower into the couch so Ivy and I would be more comfortable. Keeping Ivy tucked under my wing, I snuggled closer to Nick and closed my eyes. Sleep saturated my world with warmth, soft and dark, the absence of anything but peace.

  Chapter 19 American Pie

  Ivy woke with a start and a groan early the next morning as the sun chased the dove grey of the winter sky away. An orange-pink glow blossomed on the eastern horizon. In the night, she had shifted to the other end of the couch.

  Nick nudged me. “Wake up, sleepy head.” I nuzzled into his chest, my new favorite place in the world.

  “Grrr. Don’t wanna,” I g
rowled playfully.

  Ivy gazed at Nick and I huddled at the opposite end of the couch, a serene smile curled her lips. She was ecstatic that I had someone who cared for me. Her powers as my friend were limited. But Nick? Nick could save me from myself; save me, protect me, and make me whole. If only I gave him a chance. Ivy was hopeful.

  She kicked my feet off the couch with a quiet, teasing giggle, and bolted to the bathroom.

  “Thank you for what you did for Ivy, last night,” I whispered in Nick’s ear once Ivy was singing in the shower.

  “Sure. She’s only been sleeping minutely better than you have,” he confided.

  I figured as much but this confirmation pricked my heart and my gratitude to him swelled to spilling for his memory chiropractics on her. I stretched myself up to look directly into his eyes and grazed my fingers across his cheek. His eyes closed as though he was trying to isolate the sensation and he melted under my touch. My fingers sparked tiny tremors across his warm skin as I skimmed them across his brow. His body answered with a corresponding shudder. I leaned into him, brushed my lips delicately across his; a kiss so gentle and soft it might not have been a kiss at all—if it hadn’t been for the shock of adrenaline that blazed through me. My breath rushed from my chest as I pulled away, and I smiled timidly.

  Nick’s eyes glowed; startling, fervid, dangerous. Their normal cool obsidian blue burned with a cobalt flame. An impulse of fear yanked me away but he caught my arms and held me near.

  “I’m sorry. I…” I saw that intensity in his eyes once before—in a dream—right before he killed me.

  “No, no. It’s okay,” his voice soft and husky as he tried to reassure me. “That was…um…wow!” His chest expanded with a deep, calming breath. “I just…it’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like that. It just surprised me.”