Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3) (3 page)

             
“How could you do this to me?” she pleaded.

             
“I never meant…I’m so sorry, Em. Please…”

             
I reached to touch her hand, to encourage the softening of her heart. But she jerked away. The tires skidded sideways in a patch of loose gravel. The T-bird careened back and forth, and propelled off the side of the highway. It bucked and shuddered, and then took flight.

             
“Em! Phase. Now.”

             
Fear twisted her face, her eyes wide in terror and realization. Her hands froze to the steering wheel.

             
“Now. Phase now!” And I shimmered out of the car.

             
But Emari didn’t phase with me. For whatever reason, self-destruction or frozen in fear, she remained in the car as it rolled and crashed upside down in a reedy marsh. Once the screech of abused metal subsided and the hiss of the vehicles fluids died, the night was deathly silent.

             
“Emari!” I searched the night for her ethereal form, but I knew she was still inside the wreck of a car. “Oh god! Oh god! Emi.”

             
I sloshed through the ankle deep water of a lily-laden pond to the overturned car.
Please be okay.
The driver’s side door ripped open in my grasp and I wondered if adrenalin intensified Caphar strength as it did to humans. Her bloodied arm splashed out of the opening and floated in the water. I knelt to find her still strapped in her seat and prayed that someone would find us and call for help. But I knew they wouldn’t. No one had seen the crash. No one would investigate until they saw the skid marks in daylight.

             
Blood streamed from her face and matted her copper hair to her scalp. The flash of a memory—her mother’s face in her nightmares—what she’d imagined her mother looked like after their crash. I checked her pulse and sighed with relief to find it. I didn’t dare release her seatbelt for fear she’d fall and break her neck. I laid in the muck to look into her face.

             
“Emi, honey. Please wake up.” Silence. Even her shallow breaths were disturbingly quiet. I caressed her cold bloody face. “Please, baby. Wake up.” If she could just phase out the car, just get into incorporeal form, I could guide her home. The phasing would help mend her. But I couldn’t make her phase, as much as I wanted to use my own abilities to pull her out of her corporeal form, she had to do it on her own. And I couldn’t leave her here alone to go find help. I kissed her face and tasted the coppery tinge of her blood on my lips. The memory of kissing Felicia’s cold still lips, as my wife of so long ago died in my arms, flooded my mind.
Please God. Not again. Please don’t let me lose her.
As if hearing my silent prayer, Emari’s eyes drifted open and she gazed distantly at me.

             
“Hey.” Her voice was quiet, as wrecked as the car.

             
“Hey back,” I choked out through relief and tears. “Emi, I need you to phase. We need to get you back home.”

             
She groaned like a reluctant teen. “I wanna sleep.” She said, oblivious to her plight. Delirious from the conk on the head and blood loss.

             
“No baby. You need to wake up. You need to phase so I can get you out of here,” I pleaded.

             
“I’m not Baby,” she protested, her voice raspy and soft as though every ounce of her energy was exhausted.

             
I pressed my forehead to hers. “Please honey. You remember, right? Think of the thing that’s light and soft.”

             
“And pink? Cotton candy?”

             
“Yes honey.” I chuckled. “Yes, light and soft like cotton candy.”

             
“Then can I go to sleep?” She sounded every bit like the little girl I’d accused her of behaving like.

             
“Yes, honey. If you phase out of the car, then you can sleep as soon we get you home.” I knew a single phase wasn’t going to mend all the damage inside her, with this extent of injury, it would take some time, several times phasing for her to recover. But it would be a start. It might just keep her from dying. “Come on now, honey. Let’s go.”

             
“O-kay,” she sighed, as though to do so was a nuisance and she was simply appeasing me. Her body sparked and guttered, but she managed to shift forms. I sighed in relief and released myself into the night.

             
We drifted on the cold night air, her spirit dim and wispy but gloriously alive. Finally, the glowing penumbra of light around her home spread beneath us and I guided her inside the house and to her bed.

             
“Emi, you can sleep now.”

             
Her body materialized on the bed and I wrapped her in a fleecy blanket to stave off shock. I retrieved my cell from my pocket and pressed one button.

             
“Yeah. What?” growled Sabre’s voice over the line.

             
“I need you to get Adrian. And bring that daughter of his too.” I didn’t typically give Sabre commands. It was usually the other way around. But I didn’t have time for the niceties. “Bring them to Emari’s place as soon as possible.”

             
“What’s going on?” Sabre rumbled.

             
“There’s been accident. Em’s busted up pretty bad. We need Adrian and that girl here. Now.”

             
“Okay, kiddo. On my way.”

Chapter 4
Damaged

              Eddyson laid his warm chin on my thigh and gazed up at me with doleful eyes. He knew his mistress was not okay. Em’s body guttered and sparked, reminding me of the first night we met. Officially. She’d zapped me with her Taser and fried all my circuits. Now, her eyes were sunken and cadaverous and I realized how emaciated she’d become. I delved into her mind with a twinge of guilt at the invasion that knotted my stomach. She still hadn’t visited human dreams to draw on their nourishment. I peered around her grayscale room at the movie monsters on her wall. In her mind, I was now as much one of those monsters as Vlad the Impaler. My eyes landed on Bela Legossi from the original Dracula movie. In the movies, a sire vampire could feed a fledgling his own blood to reanimate them. But I didn’t think that trick worked in real life—and not on Caphar. But I’d do anything to save her, even sever my own veins. Blood throbbed in my wrist as I pondered the idea. No. I was reasonably sure my blood wouldn’t revive her. It might even make her sick. But I had to do something.

             
She’d asked me once what would happen if my ethereal form engulfed her corporeal body. I’d told her it was a very intimate thing. Like sex. But a burgeoning idea was forming. Perhaps there was one way to transfer some of the chemical brain waves I’d absorbed into her. But—it felt like a blatant violation of her to do it.

             
As if her face weren’t pale enough already, her skin grew ashen, her lips a livid blue. Her chest rattled as she gasped for air, and I knew her insides were bleeding. Her breath stopped with a shudder. Her chest stilled. “Oh god! Emi breathe!” This was all just way too familiar. Only weeks ago, she’d fallen to her mortal death from a suspension bridge in downtown Spokane. In desperation, I’d tried CPR, but her already broken bones crackled under the press of my hands. I wasn’t sure I could stand to hear that sound again. As worry swung into all out panic, her chest suddenly convulsed, wet and heavy, and my heart pounded against my ribs. I had to do something. Now!

             
Invasive or not, I had to try. I had to try to get some of my own delta waves into her, if only to give her the strength to phase one more time.
Sometimes, it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.
I only hoped that was case. But if I didn’t make a decisive choice now, she could die. Better I live without her forgiveness than without her.

             
“I’m sorry, Em. I have to try.” Remorse and misery pitched my voice low and chesty, like my whole soul was being crushed. I took a draught of air to bolster myself, and phased, then hovered over her before suffusing her body with mine. I didn’t even know where delta waves were stored in our bodies—probably flowing through us like an electrical current. And I’d give her all that I had. Even if it depleted me completely. She just needed the energy to phase. Just one more time.

             
As I lowered myself to phase with her body, a rigid shield deterred me. Her body was shrouded in a crimson glow that pulsed from her chest like a heartbeat—a glow I could only distinguish with ethereal eyes. I brushed aside the collar of her shirt to reveal the ancient spider pendant she’d discovered in the secret room in her basement. The legs pierced her skin, anchored just over her heart. I phased back to her side, and trailed a finger over the ruby and titanium body of the spider she dubbed Ari. Searing sparks blazed up my arm and dulled as a message filled my mind.

             
I can heal her enough to phase.
The spider’s words spoke straight to my mind.

             
“Tell me how. I’ll do anything, whatever you need.”

             
I require a sacrifice.

             
I groaned and scrubbed my face with the palms of my hands. “What kind of sacrifice?”

             
Of blood. Take the lancet. Anoint it with blood and restore it to me.

             
My hands trembled as I slid the tiny blade from Ari’s titanium body. I remembered not so long ago when I’d walked into this very same room to discover Emari with this very same blade piercing the vein of her arm. The look of—ecstasy on her face was bitterly unnerving. And now it seemed, only a venous sacrifice of my own blood stood between her and death. Guided by the spider’s magic, I thrust the blade into the bend of my arm, fast and deep, up to the ruby grip. The vein throbbed against the lancet that felt like a living creature lapping up my offering. When the creature was sated, I returned the blade to Ari. My fingers smeared red across the hard metal and Emari’s petal soft skin. The smears glowed for moment then diffused into her chest like snowflakes on warm hands.

             
After a few moments, Ari shuddered and phased out of sight. I watched Emari with eager eyes as her chest rose and fell more smoothly, and her eyes fluttered open a slit. I breathed a sigh of relief, a breath it felt like I’d been holding since the car ejected off the highway.

             
“Hey, sunshine,” I whispered and stroked her hair away from her face. “You ready to try and phase again? Just a little. Just to get you mended a little more. Sabre’s bringing Adrian and Emma soon. We’ll have you back to whole in no time.”               She blinked, thick and slow as if she understood. “I’ll stay with you.” She blinked again as her lungs struggled for breathe. “Ready?” I clutched her hand like a life line, and this time, her blink accompanied a tiny subtle nod. And together we phased.

*          *          *

              Emari’s chest finally swelled in a mesmerizing rhythmic motion when Sabre, Adrian and Emma arrived a short time later.

             
“What the hell happened?” Adrian growled as he stormed into her room.

             
I didn’t have the strength to explain, my stores of sustenance depleted on the girl I loved. I rose from the floor at her bedside, gripped the Doc’s shoulder, and transferred all that transpired since before Christmas—since I’d revealed the world of the Caphar to his niece. Adrian’s muscles hardened under my touch, stonier and stonier until I thought he’d crack like granite. A shudder of rage quaked through him as I revealed to him what she now was.

             
“Geezus. She’s Caphar?!” he raged. His anger sputtered in fits and starts until he finally grew grave and silent. “And they know.”

             
As usual, there was no need to define who ‘they’ were. ‘They’ were always Rephaim. My hand withered away from his shoulder and I phased out of the house. I’d done all I could think to do. Now, she was in Adrian’s hands. And the hands of his miraculous daughter, Emma.

Chapter 5
Calling All Angels

Emari

              I awoke sometime later to find Emma nestled beside me, stroking my arm. Her warm fingers sent healing currents through my body. I nuzzled against her hand and opened my eyes. She was an angel, with the touch of magic in her fingertips. And I saw the truth of who…of what she was.

             
“Well, hello there little Caphar. Aren’t you a miracle.”

             
Emma gazed at me, her eyes sweet and serene as she pet my hair. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. That one word, so anointed, like a salve to my soul.

             
It was as though I’d known all along. It felt so natural chatting with the girl about the supernatural. I chuckled inwardly,
so now the paranormal is the norm in my life?
“Does your Daddy know what you are?”

             
“Yes,” she whispered again.

             
I pondered that a moment. “Is your Daddy Caphar?”

             
“Latent Caphar. Just like yours.”

             
“Latent? Meaning the anomaly exists in their genes, but they didn’t fully manifest?” Again, a nod. I pulled her into my arms. She seemed so wise—wise beyond her years. Instinct stirred inside me to protect her, to shelter her from the ravages of the Rephaim—like Thomas. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

             
She rubbed the mole in crook of my elbow—like Nick used to do, when the tremble of his fingertips on my skin sent my heart rate into orbit. “It wasn’t time yet. They didn’t know if the anomaly would pass down to you. If not…it was best, safest to keep you in the dark.”

             
We laid face to face, sharing the same pillow, the same breath. Her eyes sparkled like a mountain stream. If anyone else had told me that my father’s genes carried the anomaly that made men Caphar, I’d probably have ripped their head off.

             
“Emma? How old are you?”

             
Her eyes darted away and to the movie monsters on my wall. “Twelve.”

             
I glanced at the sparkling vampire poster her eyes had stopped on. “How long have you been twelve?” Her mouth arced up at the corners as we shared the memory of a favorite movie we used to watch over and over again.

             
“Two years.”

             
“I don’t understand. Sabre and—”
Suck it up, Sweets! It’s just a name!
“Nick said that the Capharism manifests between eighteen and twenty-five. How did you…you know?”

             
Her eyes turned to mine and she brushed a copper lock from my cheek. Her sweet smile turned shy. “Like you said, ‘I’m a miracle.’”

             
“That you are, my lovely.” Her eyes grew timid and she glanced away. I mentally searched my body for aches and pains—and found, despite her miraculous touch, strained muscles, mending rib fractures, the dulling ache of a concussion. I must’ve been banged up pretty bad. The crash replayed in my mind like a horror movie. The phantoms of the terror and pain scorched in my chest and behind my eyes. “Emma?” She turned back to me. “Thank you. For healing me.” I remembered her touch at Christmas time, the healing that sparked from her fingertips. “That’s your gift—right?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Are there others like you? With the power to heal?”

             
“None that we know of. I’m an anomalous anomaly.”

             
I chuckled at that, then sobered. “But—did you die?”

             
“Yes. I drowned up at the river. But Daddy knew enough about the Dream Weavers. He’d seen the signs in me.”

             
My eyebrows crunched together. “Why don’t I remember what happened?”

             
“Our fathers asked the Caphar to make you not remember. But…”

             
“But?” I pressed.

             
Her eyes turned to rain-swept puddles. “It was an accident, Emi. It wasn’t your fault.”

             
My chest thundered with panic…and Emma spilled over…..

             
The Pend Orielle River sparkled in the late morning sun. We were up at the crack of dawn, waiting outside of the cabin for the olds to get up. Two silly girls poking at the embers of last night’s fire and s’more goo blopped in crystallized lumps on the bricks.

              She shuddered with a grief-laden sigh. “Please. Don’t make me show the rest.”

             
“I wouldn’t
make
you do anything. It just happens when people…Dream Weavers, are around me. They tend to leak.” We were silent for several moments. “But—I’d still like to know the truth.”

             
“It won’t make you happy.” In many ways, Emma was still a twelve year old girl wanting everyone to be happy.

             
“Someone once told me that all memories are a gift—even the bad ones. They make us who we are, help us make the right decisions.”

             
Her mouth curved with an innocent smile. “I know someone like that.”

             
All I could do was nod, sure she knew Nick, and had heard the same words from his lips.

             
“I’m asking you to let me see what happened. Please?”

             
Her chin dropped to her chest and she closed her eyes like she was nodding off, but the tension in her brow belied sleep. Her mouth bowed into a frown and she gave the faintest nod. Her lovely face twisted with grief and she released the memories to me.

              Finally, finally our fathers dragged themselves from the cabin to watch us out on the shimmering river, riding the wave runners. We’d been trained thoroughly—safe-boaters courses and lessons from the Dads. We donned our matching neon pink life jackets and thundered down the dock to launch the machines. We dashed and darted through the quarter mile radius our fathers had deemed ‘safe’. We created waves for each other to jump over and spun the runners in tighter and tighter circles until we buried their noses in the water. It wasn’t long before the two of us were parading past our Dads, showing off, riding the runners like stunt riders in a Wild West Show.

             
A larger bass boat roared past down the center of the river, churning up the water and sending turbulent waves roiling to the shore. But, Emma and I didn’t notice. We were too busy showing off. The growing wake caught Emma’s machine and bucked her into the water. I was distracted, doing a parade wave to Dad and Adrian on the shore. Their faces turned to horror as Emma hit the water…and the nose of my wave runner struck her head. Blood boiled up around me as I cut the engine and gazed in shock at the darkening pool that spread out around her. Emma’s blond hair, now stained pink from blood, surfaced, then her life jacket flipped her over face up. Her face was pale. Her lips blue. I looked up to the bank in time to see Dad and Adrian strip off and dive into the water. I jumped in, feet first, and swam the few strokes to reach her.

             
“Emma! Emma! Please wake up. I’m sorry. Please.” A litany of apologies and begging spewed from my lips. By the time the Dads reached us, Emma’s blood spattered my face in watered-down pink. Daddy helped Adrian lift her limp body onto a runner and they jetted away. He turned to me, treading water. My eyes were filled with glossy horror.

             
“Emari? Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?”

             
“No, Daddy. Is Emma going to be okay? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t see…I’m sorry Daddy. I’m sorry…”

             
“Come on, baby. Let’s get you back to shore.”

              My throat pinched shut as my brain made room for the extracted memories. They pressed against my eyes until tears swam in my vision. I squeezed Emma to my chest.

             
“Oh god. Emma. I am so sorry.” The words were barely breath, quiet and grieved.

             
“It was an accident, Em. I have
never
blamed you. And I’m happy for what—who I’ve become. I wouldn’t trade being Caphar for anything. And as I understand it now, if I hadn’t died, I might never have become one.”

             
“But—you were so young. You’re stuck at twelve for—forever.”

             
Emma giggled and tugged a lock of my hair. “I’ll be caught up to you in no time. Sabre thinks I’ll continue to adulthood, albeit slowly, and then hover there for a century or six.”

             
I laughed at her. “‘Albeit?’ Yeah, there’s a word your typical twelve year old girl might use.”

             
We laid with our arms wrapped around each other in silence for several long moments. Finally, Emma cleared her throat and asked, “You still love him, don’t you?”

             
No!
“Yes.”

             
“Will you forgive him? For keeping the truth from you? For keeping his oath to your dad?”

             
“I don’t know. There’s been a lot of hidden truths around here lately.” She squirmed with guilt, so I squeezed her tighter. “Do you think I should?

             
“Yes.” Her answer was straightforward and sincere and I momentarily wondered if Nick put her up to this. “How can you
stay
mad at someone who looks like that?! He’s just so damn hot!”

             
“Eh-hem!” Adrian hovered in the doorway. Emma buried her face in my shoulder and giggled.