Darkness Comes (28 page)

She frowned; she had a pleasant childhood, of course she had. It was only in her dreams that her childhood had been anything less than perfect. And her dreams were. Not. Real.

Silently, pensively, she made her way back to her bedroom, trying not to think about it too much. Of course her childhood had been pleasant; she just couldn’t recall much of it at the moment. She had images of her father, and of Jack, but they felt more like… snapshots. She saw their faces but not the context.

She put her hand on the door knob and froze; there was something – someone – there. She could feel him. Pressing her hand against the cool wood of the door, she closed her eyes and saw him in her head. He had folded his big, muscled body into the chair close to her bed, his elbows bent and his hands clasped together in front of him. His legs were braced apart, as if he were relaxed but could be ready to move in an instant if need be.

He was waiting for her; she could feel his heat and she wanted to straddle his lap and wrap her body around his. She wanted to feel his lips on her; she almost knew how he would taste, dark and a little dangerous. He would brush his lips over hers, slowly at first and then with greater urgency, sliding his tongue into her mouth, caressing her tongue. His hands would be working, too, touching, squeezing, fondling.

Her breaths were coming in pants and she knew that if she just opened the door, he would be sitting there, waiting for her. With a small smile, she took a deep breath and flung the door open. A breeze from the open windows made the curtains flutter; bringing with it the warm scent of a perfect tropical night.

He wasn’t there and she felt extremely foolish for ever thinking he would be in her room waiting for her. As if he existed.

Strangely disheartened, she crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, at a loss as to what to do, what to think. She had been so sure that he was waiting for her. And if he had truly been there, she probably would have been terrified that there was a stranger in her bedroom. Only he wasn’t a stranger, he was….

Damn it all to hell! Why couldn’t she remember?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she slumped to the side and dragged her legs back onto the bed. She didn’t even bother to get under the covers; it was simply too much effort. And on top of it, she thought she was coming down with a bug; her stomach had been rebelling a little earlier and the thought of food made her ill.

In the darkness, with the house so silent, she shivered as the remnants from her dream pricked at her. The dream had felt so real; more real than her memories, which somehow felt… counterfeit. It was ridiculous, of course; she had a good life with Toby. Her neighbors were a little odd but they were friendly enough, always eager to say hello. Of course, there was Jay, he seemed somewhat protective of her.

No; he was protective of Toby, extending his protection to include her. His interest in their lives never bothered her before; and she supposed it didn’t bother her now. Not exactly, anyway. She was grateful to have such a positive male influence in her son’s life, especially since her father….

Her frown deepened as she thought about her dad. She could have sworn that she had lived with him her entire life, but she had memories of moving out of his house and in with Jack nearly seven years ago. But they had moved so frequently when she had been a child; didn’t they? Her memories told her that they had lived together in a large, light-filled house all of her life, but it felt wrong. Artificial. She could feel other memories behind a wall, memories that were… darker somehow.

A nervous laugh shook her from her thoughts. Her subconscious was just screwing with her; it was perfectly normal to have such disjointed thoughts in the middle of the night in a quiet house as thoughts of a black-haired god teased her senses. In fact, it had to be his fault that she was even debating the nature of her reality; had she not had such exquisite dreams of him over the past couple of nights, she wouldn’t think anything was amiss.

Her stomach rolled over and she put her hand on it, hoping to calm it. She really hoped she wasn’t coming down with something; there was so much she wanted to do in her garden. Maybe she would make up some fresh cookies and introduce herself to some of her other neighbors, since she really only knew Jay. And she didn’t even know him very well, did she? But he knew about her salsa and even suggested the fact that she always made some for the neighborhood. How very odd.

In truth, she didn’t much feel like she knew her neighbors; she had always been somewhat distant from others, uncomfortable around new people. She never knew if they were friend or a vamp-wannabe. Scowling, she shook her head; that wasn’t why she kept her distance. No, it had been easiest that way, since they had moved so often when she was growing up; there were always battles to be fought and….

She slammed her fist down into her pillow, desperate to stop these irrational thoughts from filling her head. This was why she hated the darkest hours of night; nothing was what it was supposed to be and anything seemed possible. Even vampires.

Swinging her legs out of bed, she quietly made her way back to Toby’s bedroom; he was the only real thing in the world. Kneeling next to his bed, she drank in the sight of him, brushing a strand of his hair from his face before curling her fingers around his small hand. He made a little snuffling sound in his sleep, smacking his lips together as he rolled onto his back. He was real.

Her memories of him were real. Holding him as soon as he was born, crying and laughing at the same time; feeding him and watching him sleep: his first words, his first steps. Her father had been there for all of it, but he hadn’t been.... And Jack….

“Oh, Toby,” she said on a sigh, wishing she weren’t so confused. “I wish your father were here; he would have been so proud of you.”

She sighed again, thinking about Jack, a sad smile curving her lips. Which of her memories were real? It felt like a betrayal to not know. She had loved him, and at times he had been the rock of her world, but was he the Jack of her dreams or her memories? Perhaps he was somewhere in between, a man who had protected her and encouraged her and who died too soon.

She saw so much of Jack in Toby and she smiled even as a tear slid down her cheek. It wasn’t fair that Jack never even got to meet his son; he had been a good man and would have been a great father. Now her memories of Jack were being usurped by a phantom and guilt gnawed at her gut. Maybe it was time to move on, to finally let him go. She had loved him and would always love him but she knew he wouldn’t want her mourning him for the rest of her life.

She wished the black-haired dream lover was real; but men like that didn’t exist in real life. At least not in her world, where life was peaceful, calm. One could almost say boring, but not her; she loved the tranquility. And if, every now and then, it felt wrong, then she would just have to deal with it. And if it felt like something – someone – was missing, she’d chalk it up to loneliness.

As a wave of nausea washed over her, she squeezed her eyes shut; maybe she really was coming down with something. Hopefully it would pass quickly since she rarely ever got sick, and never with anything serious.

Her eyes became heavier and heavier as she watched Toby sleep, until she fell asleep kneeling on the floor, her head on the bed.

In her dreams, her black-haired lover stepped out of the shadows, gently running a hand over her head, relishing the light touch. He carefully laid her down on the floor, covering her with a light blanket before bending over her, breathing her in, and placing a soft kiss on her lips before fading back into the shadows.

She didn’t want him to go.

Chapter 13

Malorie slumped over the toilet; it was the third morning in a row that she had lost her breakfast and she was tired of feeling so miserable. It wasn’t just that she was throwing up every time she managed to eat something; it was the dreams that refused to go away. The dreams were always the same, fighting and war, fear, exhilaration, sex with a black haired god. And though Jack was in every dream, whenever they had sex, it was the black haired man that thrust between her thighs.

It was very disconcerting; he had replaced Jack in her bed and he wasn’t even real.

It was also become increasingly difficult to keep her illness from Toby. Especially since she wanted to spend most of her day in bed with a cool compress pressed against her forehead. It seemed to be the only thing that kept the nausea at bay. With a wry chuckle, she thought that perhaps she should start keeping crackers on her nightstand so she could nibble at them before getting up; they had been the only thing that made her first trimester bearable.

She stilled; she hadn’t felt this miserable since she had been pregnant with Toby. But that was impossible; she hadn’t had sex in years. Except for in her dreams and she was pretty sure that dream lovers could not get her pregnant. No matter how real the dream.

Standing on slightly wobbly legs, she held onto the sink as she rinsed her mouth out. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, seeing the pale skin and the dark circles, she had to wonder if perhaps she had lost her mind after all. It had to be a bug because she would have remembered having sex in the last couple of days, and she knew it was recent because she had developed symptoms with Toby almost immediately.

As she left the bathroom, she looked up and saw her father, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The hallway was dark, cramped, and her father made the atmosphere feel even more claustrophobic. She had just finished throwing up everything she had ever eaten in her entire life; the last thing she wanted to deal with was her father. His eyes were narrowed as he took in her haggard appearance. With no prelude, he asked, “I assume Jack is the father?”

Malorie shook her head at the flash of memory. The room had seemed so very familiar but she couldn’t remember living in such squalor. At one time the walls may have been painted a bright cheery shade of yellow but by the time they lived there, they had been coated with gray grime, making the yellow appear to be a color from a drug-induced haze. Mal could still smell the filth that clung to every molecule of air, making it difficult to breathe without gagging; and that had been before she got pregnant.

Yet at the same time, she remembered discovering her pregnancy in a clean, well-lit room, Jack standing with her as the doctor confirmed her condition. Jack had hugged her tightly to his chest and told her that they would marry immediately. And her wedding….

“
Do you take this man to be your husband?” the exhausted man asked, several days growth of beard shadowing his face.

Malorie looked up at Jack, at his smiling face; he was so pleased to be marrying her and she was simply scared. She loved him, she did; she just wasn’t sure if she was ready for marriage, for motherhood. They were going to be bringing a new life into this messed up world; how could she help but to worry? Swallowing, she nodded and Jack laughed and then kissed her. He was much more eager to repeat his vows, but then, he wasn’t the one who was going to be going through pregnancy; labor.

A chorus of cheers went up and she turned to face her men.

Malorie squeezed her eyes shut to erase the strange daydream. She and Jack had been married… they had been married outside, beneath the trees and the blue sky. Her father had given her away….

God, she couldn’t remember which memory was real. Her dreams were definitely finding their way into her waking hours and that worried her because as disturbing as it was to not know what was real and what was not, she wanted her dream lover to be real. She loved him.

Hmm, maybe that would explain why she was having symptoms that resembled morning sickness: she was having a psychosomatic pregnancy. And that was really just too messed up to even pretend to contemplate. She really needed to get out and date; maybe she would ask Jay out. Because she didn’t feel anything but friendship towards him he would be safe. And real.

Her stomach lurched and she lost the little sip of water she managed to drink.

It was time to prove to her stupid mind that she wasn’t pregnant and that there was no reason to send out signals to the rest of her body that she was. Her dream lover was simply that – a dream. He didn’t exist and as such he could not get her pregnant.

“Toby!” she called out, after managing to brush her hair back into a pony tail and washing her face. She still looked pale but she felt that she was past the worst of it.

Her son came tearing around the corner, proudly wearing his new green, Robo-monsters tie tennis shoes. “Yeah, mom?”

“I need to run to the store,” she said, taking his hand in hers and walking down the stairs.

“But, mommy,” he cocked his head to the side, his little face contorted with puzzlement. “We just went to the store yesterday; we even got my favorite cereal.”

“I know, honey, but there are a few things I forgot to get,” she told him, gathering up her car keys and purse. She paused when she touched the purse; there was something about that, too. True, she had been hauling it back and forth the past few days, hardly paying it any attention at all but in that moment, there was something significant about that purse.

Oh, sure, it looked like an ordinary purse; medium sized, brown leather, a zipper enclosure; but she could have sworn she had lost it at one point. Perhaps she did and then found it again; that would make sense. And if she weren’t having bizarre dreams and insane flashes of possible memories, she would have let it go at that. But she was having bizarre dreams and insane flashes of memory and there was something about the purse.