Dream Weaver (Dream Weaver #1) (27 page)

             
“And he’ll just keep on, hurting people, killing Weavers, unless we stop him.”

             
“‘
We
’ nothing,” Sabre rounded on me, “
You
are staying here.”

             
“As you wish,” I bowed my head to him and he was appeased. I turned to Nick while Sabre returned to his pacing and grumbling. Nick wrapped his arms around me as I curled up close to him. “Nick,” I whispered, “how do you destroy a Wraith?” I felt him groan, resigned and reluctant.

             
“Well, I guess since Sabre is suddenly all into you knowing everything, I may as well tell you.” But I could still feel the thrashing of his heart, the stoniness of his muscles, his continued reticence to share this sort information with me. It was against his protective nature to expose me to such gruesome and violent deeds.

             
“Nick?”

             
“Hmm?”

             
“Do you think…do you think he’ll hurt Eddyson?”

             
“I don’t know, sweetie.” His voice sounded distant, almost defeated. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity while he measured his breaths, and gathered his thoughts. I waited. “Caphar are quasi-immortal entities. Meaning, we are temporarily immortal, though for centuries. This makes it extremely difficult to kill a Caphar. If attacked while in their corporeal form their bodies are as fragile as any other human. However, they can change into their ethereal form and ‘heal’ themselves. Theoretically, if a Caphar is bound to their corporeal phase, they may be destroyed, though there is nothing at present to accomplish this. However, if they are able to shift to ethereal before the body’s natural decay processes have broken down the tissues beyond repair, typically forty-eight hours, the spirit will still be able to regenerate the body. There are a few guaranteed, fail-safe ways to terminate a Caphar. Typically, anything that completely destroys the physical tissues,” he paused, and searched my eyes for something, perhaps forgiveness. “Fire, lye, acid. Unfortunately, these are not the most easily accessible weapons to obtain, nor the most discreet. The most common, readily available form of destruction is by beheading and separating the body and head so they are not able to re-unite. The physical body will commence normal decomposition. After forty-eight hours, the Caphar’s years will return to him and his body will turn to dust.” He ran a finger down my cheek, sighed and forced a sad smile. “I guess we are a bit like vampires.

             
“
Some believe,” he continued, “that if a Weaver is in a deep link with another person and his body is destroyed, he may continue to exist, symbiotically, in that host person’s body and continue the ability to manipulate their memories and dreams. While not a true ‘possession’, the Weaver could cause the same type of effects. I often wonder how many cases of multiple personality and schizophrenia could be caused by this type of symbiotic relationship.

              “Killing a Caphar, whether Weaver or Wraith, is a difficult task. Since human brain waves fortify Weavers, isolating them from any and all sources for an extended period of time would eventually cause their demise. However, some contemporary Rephaim have developed extensive abilities, we assume, through microevolution and are able to reach out over a distance to touch the dreams and memories of others. Only extreme isolation would theoretically, be effective.”

             
My eyes were glued to Nick’s, my heart pounded in my throat, and my brain spun dizzyingly with this influx of information.

             
“Alright,” Sabre’s brusqueness effectively shattered my thoughts, leaving me feeling confused and disoriented. “There’s no way we can leave Emari here unprotected. Therefore, you,” he nodded at Nick, “are staying here. I am going down to the tracks to see if there is anything residual that I can pick up. It’s not likely, but it’s all we have at this point to try to get on the offensive. I’ll swing by the house and pick up….” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the minute shake of Nick’s head. Sabre’s mouth clamped shut with a snap.

             
Nick glanced from me to Sabre, the wrenching of his heart visible in his eyes. “Sabre, I…this one, he’s treacherous. We never do this alone…but…”

             
“It will suffice. The girl must be kept safe.”

             
I went to Sabre and took his arm. “Thank you—for watching out for me.” Hard as river rock, his eyes glared down into mine, but he raised his hand and gently cupped my cheek. For the first time I didn’t feel like ducking away from him in fear, and for the fleetingest of seconds his mouth curled up in a reassuring smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. A surge of comfort and relief washed over me.

             
Then I blinked, bewildered. Sabre was at the door with Nick. “Let no one in save me,” he instructed sternly. “For what use it is, set the alarm. It may give some advance warning should the Wraith appear in corporeal form.”

             
Nick nodded and clasped the wrist of his friend, his brother. “Take care, my friend.”

             
“And you, my friend. Guard well.” Sabre placed his left hand affectionately on Nick’s face and nodded in my direction. “She may yet be a treasure far beyond what you have already imagined.”

             
Who, but Sabre, would know Nick’s heart? Know of Nick’s dreams and imaginations? Despite their feral growls, the love between them remained, their friendship a bond, one to the other, heart to heart. That one would die for the other was without doubt. For one brief moment, I envied them their ‘foreverness’. So far, ‘always’ hadn’t been a good plan for me.

             
Again, Nick gave a solemn nod and glanced at me with a smile that didn’t reach the distant depths of his eyes. Sabre turned to go, to risk his life to defend me.

             
“Sabre.” He stopped and turned to me. “Please, be careful.”

             
“And you, my lady.” He smirked and winked. I huffed a small laugh as I walked to Nick’s side and slid my hand into his. Sabre stepped out into the night.

             
“He’ll be okay out there, won’t he?” I worried aloud.

             
“Sure, Sabre’s not just an ass, he’s a bad ass. He gets how these guys think, which honestly, is kind of scary,” Nick explained.

             
“Should you…”

             
“Absolutely not!” The intensity of his voice pierced like a knife to the chest. It didn’t help that I was still feeling the effects from my Wraith-ful encounter earlier in the day, and I was feeling like a wuss. My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them. His shoulders slumped and he sighed in frustration. He pulled me to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “
You
are our number one priority. Sabre can handle himself.”

             
We stood at the living room window in silence and watched as Sabre strode away; his body sparkled like new-fallen snow before he vanished into a glistening vapor that drifted away with the wind. My heart raced at the thought that maybe, someday, I might be able to do that, but I chased the thought away with denial. The idea that I was a Dream Weaver was crazy. Absolutely crazy. Seriously, though, what in my life wasn’t utterly insane right now?

Chapter 23 Enter Sandman

             
I busied myself in the kitchen, while Nick wandered from window to window, and peered out into the night. His ‘quasi-immortal’ vision penetrated the darkness, scanned for the slightest movement. I washed the dishes, swept and mopped the floor, wiped down the counters and polished all the chrome. My mother would have been proud of that kitchen when I was done. I straightened, dusted, and arranged the living and dining rooms. Nick continued his vigil at the windows. Occasionally, he glanced into the house to give me a reassuring smile. I got the impression my nesting amused him, but I didn’t have to look too deeply into those blue-obsidian eyes to find the worry camouflaged there. I smiled back, but we both knew we were keeping up pretenses for each other. We were both worried sick; about Sabre, about Eddyson, about what was necessary to make us all safe again.

             
“You’ve done this before,” I said finally. Nick looked questioningly at me. “Hunting a Wraith, I mean.”

             
Regret eclipsed his eyes, another  plea for forgiveness. “Yes.” He drew in a heavy, remorseful breath and returned to his surveillance of the darkness. “We mostly try to keep to ourselves,” he said quietly, his breath lightly fogging the cold window. He swiped it away with his sleeve. “But we can’t abide by Caphar or even humans being tortured, or killed. Or worse.”

             
“Worse? What’s worse than killed?”

             
“Insanity.” He flashed me a humorless grin.

             
“Oh. Yeah. There is that.” I continued with my busy work, and hoped it would chase away the images of sunken-eyed psych patients wandering the halls of a cold, dark mental hospital or bound in straightjackets in padded cells. I heard their screams, rants about macabre creatures that pilfered their dreams, ravaged their memories and vanished into the night.

             
For the first time in a long time, I prayed. God and I hadn’t been on speaking terms in, well, a very long time, but right now felt like a very good time to get reacquainted. Burning supplications flowed silently from my heart for the safety of Sabre and Eddyson—for us all.

             
Nick’s phone fractured the silence and nearly shattered our nerves. His fingers raced over the buttons in a blur of speed. I doubted the guy with the current world record for texting had anything on Nick, but who was he but a mere mortal? I went to Nick and stood behind him, slid my arms around his chest, and rested my head on his back. He finished his TM conversation and pocketed his phone. His cool hands caressed my arms.

             
“You are so brave,” he quietly declared.

             
“Naw. Still a wuss.” His chest rumbled with laughter, a sound that brought me measurable relief. “Was that Sabre?” I released him and returned to my housekeeping.

             
“Yes. No luck.”

             
“Well, you know what they say, ‘Luck ain’t even luck. You gotta make your own breaks’.”

             
“Oh? And who might this sage prophet be?” He turned to face me; a crooked grin twisted one corner of his mouth.

             
“Jon Bon Jovi, of course.” Again, his laughter brought relief. “He won’t find anything at the tracks, I don’t think. The memories, they’re all wrong, like I can tell they’re not really mine. Somehow, I think those memories will be found in the barn.” It wasn’t really a barn, just more than a shed. It was one of two outbuildings not far from the house, just on the perimeter of the main compound.

             
Nick was at my side in a moment; he scanned my face, my eyes. His hands gripped my waist. I wondered briefly if he just wanted to extract the surfacing memories, or perhaps he was afraid I might collapse again. I didn’t feel his presence in my head, but it had become so familiar that I wasn’t sure if I could tell the difference anymore. He was silent as he drew me against his chest, his arms warm and comforting around me. His heart crashed against my ear, and mine raced to catch up. His fingers entwined in my hair and balled into a fist. His breath was hot and shallow on my face. His silence pressed around me, heavy and frantic.

             
“Just thinking?” I whispered as a tremble that had nothing to do with monsters or nightmares shuddered through me.

             
“Hmm, yes.” I heard the smile on his lips and wished for those lips on mine. He crushed me closer. I felt him memorizing the lines and contours of my body, and how precisely they curved into his.

              And, it scared the hell out of me.

             
Not because I thought he was being lewd, but it felt like a foreshadowing of something to come, something ominous, something very, very bad. It reminded me of the distant look I saw in his eyes earlier. It was the look that brought more terror to my heart than the thought of Wraiths, or rape, or—death.

              But, I was a cynic. Right? I was the one who didn’t believe in knights in shining armor and all that rubbish. Maybe I just needed to accept the truth for what it was; Nick was here with me, in my arms. He was real and I was safe, at least on the inside.

             
“Can we—try something?” he asked nervously.

             
My mind raced with what he could mean. He pushed me to arms length and looked sheepishly into my eyes when I didn’t respond.

             
“You made an offer the other day,” his voice gave a little tremor, and his eyes darted away.

             
My mind scattered in search of what offer I had made, and if that offer was verbal or purely mental. I blinked. “What offer was that?”

             
“Practice.” His eyes twinged, embarrassed.

             
My mind raced with confusion, and my heart with fear. I remembered the fire in those eyes, and my mental thought that I would give him anything; all of me. “Nick, I…”

             
“I understand if you’ve change your mind.”

             
“I’m just not…” I stepped back as a shudder launched up my arm, and there was no doubt, he felt it, too. The twinge in his eye changed to worry as he pulled me against him again.

             
“Emi, I’m sorry.” His voice mirrored the agony in his heart. “I’ve put you through so much already. I don’t have any right to ask you for anything more. I just thought maybe it could help me and Sabre, give us new ammunition…”

             
“Wait.” I separated myself from him, but he caught my hand. “What are you talking about?” I was beginning to realize what I thought and what he was really asking were two vastly different things, and, he wasn’t in my head as much as I thought. Maybe he was trying to protect me from some of the nightmares of his past.

             
“Trying a weave from a distance.”

             
I jerked my hand away from his, hoped I’d gotten it away from him fast enough. “Oh! Yeah.” I laughed in a desperate attempt to erase the hurt look in his eyes. “Absolutely. Of course I’ll do it.”

             
It worked. Complete and utter confusion replaced the wounded weary pain in his eyes, then his head cocked to one side. A foxy smile curled his lips. “What did you think I meant?”

             
“Nothing.” Now, it was my turn to flush with embarrassment, and I sighed in resignation. “Come on,” I said as I turned to the couch, and purposefully avoided his touch. “You’ll find out eventually anyway. Let’s just make that the goal.” I flopped on the couch and discovered he hadn’t followed, so I patted the cushion next to me and smiled self-consciously. “Well? Are we gonna try this Vulcan mind meld thing or not?” Finally, he joined me on the couch.

             
“Here, just put your hands like this.” He placed his hands, palms up, in his lap. It felt strange not to touch, physical contact had become so habitual between us, and it felt strange without it. I complied and his hands hovered a foot above mine. “Em, you don’t have to do this.”

             
“Just do it.”
Or just kill me now.

             
“Close your eyes,” he whispered in an attempt to relax me.

             
I complied, and concentrated on relaxing each muscle, calming each nerve, and reluctantly focusing on the object of the exercise. It was still and quiet for several long moments and I felt utterly alone inside my head. My breath caught when I suddenly felt a delicate nudge, and the sensation withdrew.

             
Sorry,
I thought
.

             
Hush. I’m concentrating.

             
I wanted to peek to see if his face was all screwed up with concentration, but decided I’d better focus, even as excruciating as this was about to become. The nudge returned and remained, as though familiarizing itself with the sensation. Again, with reluctance I pushed the answer he was looking for to the forefront of my memories. I felt his thoughts wrap around it, caress it, contemplate.

             
His loud, boisterous laugh ripped away any pretense of calm.

             
“Glad you’re amused,” I said icily, as he continued to laugh.

             
He was suddenly there, face to face with me, his fingers raked through my hair and he held my face between his palms. He studied my face, and then gently kissed my lips, my nose, my forehead.

             
“Emi, I would—gladly, take all of you. But never, ever before you asked me.” I opened my mouth to protest but his fingers stopped me. “Someday,” his voice was barely audible, “weeks, months, years. However long it takes your heart to heal. Someday—but not before.” He scanned my face and that fleeting flash of pain shot through his eyes and vanished. He stroked my face. “May I try something?”

             
“As you wish,” I whispered and caught his gentle smile of understanding.

             
He scooted closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine. He cupped my face in his hand and moistened his lips, leaned closer. “Close your eyes.” The warm wisps of his breath caressed my face and I complied. His lips, tenderly brushed mine. I sighed as my heart jolted in my chest.

             
“Emari Jewel.” This time the words didn’t sting, they bathed my heart with healing. “Open your eyes, my love.” His lips brushed mine with each word.

             
My eyes fluttered open to find Nick sitting almost at the other end of the couch, that Cheshire cat grin on his face.

             
“You did it. Oh my gosh, that was amazing.” I was thrilled I was able to help him increase his arsenal against the Wraith.

             
He chuckled and rose from the couch. Clutching my hand, he towed me with him back to the windows—back to reality—back to crazy, manic monsters stealing my dog and trying to mess up my head. We stood in each other’s arms and stared out into the night.

             
“But does that count? If I really am—what you think I am?” He said it didn’t work so great trying to do a distance weave with someone who was already a Weaver.

             
“Counts for more than it would with Sabre. We’re not entirely sure what the difference is between pre-Caphar and Caphar, what the mechanism is that makes them different, but a pre-Caphar is more human than Weaver,” he explained.

             
In silent vigil, I contemplated the Wraith, the creature out there somewhere in the darkness that waited to terrorize me some more—waited to
kill
not only me but Nick and Sabre, as well. I revisited my interaction with him at the tracks.
One sound, and I will become your worst nightmare and no angel will save you.

             
“Rico wasn’t alone when he attacked me,” I said quietly. Nick waited in silence, his arms careful around me. “He said, ‘One sound, and I will become your worst nightmare and no
angel
will save you.’ Rico wouldn’t have known anything about my nightmares or that I thought you were my angel.” Still, Nick remained aloof. “He had to have some connection to those memories. After everything you’ve told me, everything you’ve shown me…a Wraith made him do it, influenced him, somehow.” I waited. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

             
“Yes,” he whispered. His voice was colored with embarrassment, or perhaps still reluctance.

             
“How long have you known?”

             
“I’ve wondered, from the beginning, because I knew they’d been watching you. When you first recalled that memory, I was sure.”