No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (18 page)

 I spotted table six, it wasn’t
difficult with the blue-black mist that was floating around the young man.

I walked, well, stormed towards the
restroom area, towards table six, intent on getting this done and over with. I
felt my eyes filling. He was young, younger than I’d been. Older than the two
the other day…was that only yesterday?

Just as I was beginning to pass his
booth my feet tangled, totally unintentional…it was not the way I had planned
to do this, but oh well, I was pure nervousness. I would have gone clear down
if he hadn’t reached for me at the perfect moment and caught me. He pulled me
up and steadied me. He surprised me when without a word he handed me a napkin.
I looked down at it stupefied; I hadn’t realized I was crying…the napkin was
for my tears. I wiped at them and he looked at Gideon crossly. He thought I was
crying because of Gideon. Well, I guess I sort of
was
.

“Are you alright?”

I nodded, hesitantly touched his arm,
held it there for just an instant, and lightly said, “Scaoileadh.”

“I’m sorry?” he looked puzzled, not
understanding the strange word.

“Thank you.” I backed away from him. His
hands dropped from my arms. A strange look passed through his eyes, before he
resettled into his booth by the window.

He was sitting alone, but I noticed
there were two plates of food. He wasn’t alone.

I felt a body brush past mine.

“Excuse me.” A bright cheery voice
breezed as it passed, a young woman’s slightly bubbly voice. Her perfume was
pretty, soft, floral, with a hint of exotic fruit to it. She settled into the
booth across from my cull. My cull’s body. He looked different. Less vibrant.
His eyes…they were sort of empty looking. Did she notice the difference in him?
The light that was missing from her companion?

I backed into the hallway, bumped into
the payphone…did places still have those? I couldn’t think right, or breathe
right. My head felt spinny. This was becoming a habit. Was she going to have to
see him die? Would it be here, or later? Would she die too, or just be hurt?

I leaned against the wall. Waiting for
the mhésen. I had to collect the mhésen before I could leave. Had to get it to
its Ingress. My vision was blurring, the restaurant patrons were melting
together, the room was
cocked
at a strange angle.
Where was the mhésen?
 
I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, willing
the room to behave. I wasn’t feeling very well.

~
Milseachd~

What was that whisper? Why was there
always that whisper… that humidly alluring voice…whenever I felt the world spinning
away from me?

I could feel myself sliding down the
wall, vaguely heard myself ask, “What’s wrong with me?” I think I may have said
Gideon’s name, or maybe I’d just thought it. Then arms were wrapping around me,
lifting me, helping me to stand. I felt so weak, as though my legs had given up
when my head swirled. I was tucked gently under his arm, Gideon’s arm, helping
me walk, guiding me out of the café.

“Can you manage here for just a moment,
by yourself?” He’d lifted me to the hood of his car. The shade of the tree we
were parked under felt good on my eyelids. I couldn’t keep them from slipping
closed. I wanted to sleep, drift away and snuggle up with Gideon nearby.
No!
Shut up brain
! But his arms felt so good around me, so strong and solid,
like if I stayed there long enough everything in this life would make sense and
right itself.

I nodded, he was waiting for me to
answer before he would walk to where the mhésen stood and waited for him.

I actually had no idea if I could manage
not to slide right off and into the gutter, but I’d give it a shot.

Through shadowy sight I watched as he
led my mhésen to the brightly lit doorway that had opened between two large red
maples on either side of the sidewalk. It was an amazing doorway…it looked as
if it belonged in a gothic castle…and there it had just popped up between two
lovely trees.

I felt kinda tipsy, as if I’d been
drinking on an empty stomach…or took too much allergy medicine. The luminosity
emanating from the doorway was enthralling, I wanted to go there. What was
beyond that light? Was it heaven, was it hell? If a soul was not a soul, as I’d
always thought, was there such a thing as heaven and hell to the Bháis? Or was
it something different? And why? Why were they not angels? I knew now what they
called themselves, but why was it all something completely unlike I’d been
taught?

Oh yeah…I’d looked up Ingress, it was—as
reported by Dictionary.com on my phone—a means or place of entering; entryway.

Entryway to what?

My mhésen entered, but not before
turning and looking at me. I couldn’t see his face clearly. I’d begun to shake,
tremors racing through my body, under my skin, through my bones. I felt so weak
and yet could feel, sense something shifting within me, something that was
intense, strong with promises…of what kind I had no idea.

I felt myself veering sideways until I
was lying on the windshield of Gideon’s car. I saw, sort of, the mhésen pass
through the Ingress, and then the Ingress flickered, just wavered out of
sight…gone.

And then I saw Gideon turn to me.

I
didn’t wake until well after night had fallen. I was on my bed, still fully
clothed, minus my boots. A blanket was draped over me, tucked around me. I was
cozy and didn’t want to move, but then memories came crashing around my peaceful
cocoon and unwrapped my sense of safe haven.

And my stomach was protesting over my
abandonment of food for the day.

I wondered how much trouble I was in for
my screw up today, for my semi-fail of a cull. Everything had been going just
fine…until it just wasn’t anymore. What was wrong with me?

I swung my feet to the floor, I should
eat.

My bedroom door was wide open. Obviously
Gideon had brought me home after, I can only assume, I passed out again. What
was that about?

I left my room, padding on bare feet to
the kitchen. And I froze in my tracks as I rounded the corner from the hallway.
Gideon was in my kitchen. Pouring soup. It smelled like Hot and Sour, hopefully
from Red Dragon. The spicy-tangy scent wafted through the apartment towards me,
making my mouth water—Gideon might be adding to that as well.
Shut up brain!

Without turning he acknowledged my
arrival in the room. “Well, hello there…how are you feeling?” He turned to face
me, deftly sliding a bowl of the soup across the counter to me, not a drop
escaped. “Try to eat something.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel—why was it
that every little thing he did captivated me this way? He came around the
counter, passing me without a glance, and went in to the living room.

I had questions. And he had said at the
café that there was more to tell me, he just couldn’t do it there and then.

He stopped at the window, my favorite
window in the apartment, which overlooked the courtyard and the little gas lamp
that burned so charmingly throughout the night. He was staring out, an intense
look plastered across his face.

I liked it better when he wore that
playful smile, as rare as it was, that played at the edges of his lips. This
was the look that always set my mind to a frantic, scrambling, state of
anxiety. The kind that made it hard to breathe right…in a bad way.

I settled myself into the far corner of
the couch, furthest away from that window, and him. I blew softly on my soup,
it was steaming and I had no desire to burn my tongue. I tucked my feet under
me and sipped at my dinner. I was cold. Still chilled through.

The apartment was so quiet…except for
the rain. I could hear it pelting against the glass panes occasionally as we
stayed fixed in our spots, not speaking. I normally had some sort of sound
permeating the place, sometimes even when I slept, either the television or my
music. It was a comfort/loneliness thing. Sometimes the quiet got to be too
much for me. I’d think in excess without the distraction of the sounds.

I shivered. Would this chill ever go
away? It ran so deep and steadily through me.

Gideon pulled the chunky, deep plum,
cable knit blanket from the ottoman, and wrapped it around me. The gentleness
of his gesture didn’t match the emotions battling on his face. Concern was
etched just beneath the surface, poorly veiled by his usual visage of cool
stoicism.

When he leaned over me, to wrap the
softness around me, I couldn’t help myself…I inhaled his scent furtively. It
was that same spicy, earthy, smoky fragrance. It was wilderness.

 I shivered again. This time it was
not from the chill.

He settled himself at the other end of
the sofa and contemplated me.

 I ignored him, or pretended to
anyway. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. It was too confusing. How could
so much be felt in just a single week? It made no sense to me. And though I
felt quite a bit for Liam, he pushed me away—over and over. But still…how could
I feel anything for Gideon…at all. My body betrayed me…as did my heart. I was
hyper aware of him, but didn’t want to be. My understanding of the situation
was nil.

“So what else was there to tell me?” I
began slightly nervous, after all I’d totally flubbed the second part of my
cull…my second ever cull. “How much trouble am I in for screwing up with the
mhésen? Is the
Comhairle going to—” I stopped cold.

 He said he would be the one to do
it. “Is that why you’re here?”

The words scarcely made their way past
my lips. My heart was racing, hammering relentlessly against me chest. Was he
here to kill me, end me?

A smile danced across his lips and he
shook his head. “No. You’re safe. I’ve been here all day. If I was going to do
it, it would have been finished hours ago.”

Well, there’s a happy thought. Not. But
thinking of him being here all day as I slept
was
a nice one.

“Why? And why?” I was relieved.
Immensely. I wouldn’t die for today’s job done badly. But why?

“What?” I’d surprised him. I was always
asking questions, so I didn’t understand why he was startled now.

“Why am I not in trouble? And why are
you here? Oh…and why did that happen to me…what’s wrong with me? I don’t faint.
I’ve never fainted, but in the last few days I’ve done it twice.”

“What exactly happened after you touched
his arm? You seemed to be doing very well…until you broke contact and moved
away from him.”

“I don’t know. I suddenly was just shaky
and couldn’t see right, everything blurred and kind of melted together, and
then I just felt weak all over. And there was a whisper. A voice. A word in my
head. And I felt…something…I don’t know quite how to describe it.”

“You? The author, can’t come up with
words? From what I’ve read, that’s not a typical dilemma for you.”

He was teasing me? I felt a blush creep
up my neck. He’d read something of my old work? “No. I’ve never felt anything
like it. It’s happened before…since I’ve been here. It’s not always the same.
Today it was light, soft, like being…wrapped…in this blanket.” I nestled deeper
into its warmth. “I don’t know. The other night, at that club, it was
like…under my skin…it was effervescent…fizzy, but then it turned to fire all
along every bit of my flesh, in my blood.” I stopped.

Something in his eyes shifted. There was
a hint, a glimpse of something heated, almost predatory in his gaze. A hunger.
And then it was gone, as quickly as it had shown itself.

I had sworn to myself that I would not
confide in him. It was crazy to confide in him. What if what I was telling him
was some sort of defect in me? I already knew I was different than them, somehow
unusual. I clamped my mouth shut before I could mention anything about the
strange tendrils of glowing light that had appeared around me, around Liam and
me. Instead, I sat fidgeting nervously with my spoon in the bowl, while he
studied me, a frown resting along his brow, as he stroked a hand across his jaw
and down his neck. My eyes lingered there just a moment too long. Did he
notice?

“What?” I asked dimly. “What is it?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve never
heard of anything like it. You are quite the conundrum, Draghail.”

“So, I still have my job then? And what
is that word?”

“What? Conundrum?” His mouth hitched up
a bit on one side.

 I cocked my head to the side in
exasperation. “No. the other one. The one I
can’t
pronounce.
Drayill
…I don’t know.”

“Draghail. Trouble. Troublesome…” He
tried to cover his fraction of a grin with a scowl…but I wasn’t buying it. Did
he not dislike me as much as he put out that he did? And if so…why did he act
as though I was such a problem to be saddled with nearly every moment we were
together? “And you still have your position in the Bháis. Your cull was
perfect. Whatever it is that took place after does not seem to be of your doing
or any fault of your own. The mhésen made it to the Ingress.”

“But only because you were there. Won’t
the Comhairle be pissed off and make you…”