Dream Weaver (Dream Weaver #1) (21 page)

             
I buried my face in his chest, clutched his shirt as though my life depended on it. A sound that was half scream, half sob ripped from my throat.

             
“Please don’t leave me.”

             
There it was—the monster of my truth, my fears. The creature’s tomb burst open, no longer buried in the crypt of my soul. A dread so deeply rooted, so excruciating, my chest gaped open as it exhumed itself. I had already lost so much. Mom and Dad. Myself. My innocence. Fear paralyzed me, a cancer that ate away at me until I lived with the intensely neurotic dread that Nick would leave me as well. As the relationship between us sprouted, the fear of losing him took root, thriving in a hothouse of dread and misery.

             
Nick’s arms engulfed me, the armor of his body curved around mine. “I’m right here, Em. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

             
My tears slowed. “I’m sorry—sorry for being such a—basket case,” I managed between hiccups.

             
He turned my face to his and peered intently into my soul. Under a corrugated brow, his obsidian eyes liquefied and spilled over, crystalline tears fell with a quiet thud on the pillowcase. “Emari,” his eyes glowed like the moon on a frosty winter night. His hand was hot and electric, pressed to my face, conveying a passion deeper than words. “I love you. Don’t you understand? I love you and I won’t leave you.”

             
‘Love me?’
“Everyone leaves,” I whispered. “Everyone.” I dissolved again into an irrational bout of sobbing.

             
Nick pressed my head to his chest and rocked me. “Emi, I am so sorry for your pain. I’m so sorry I can’t fix it for you. Bring your parents back. Protect you from Rico. I’m trying so hard to alleviate some of that pain for you. I’m sorry it's not enough.” The deafening sound of his heart rending in two rumbled through me.

             
How extremely foolish and selfish could I be? He
was
trying so hard to heal my broken heart, to cure my pain without taking away my memories—though if I had asked he would have done that, too. “Please. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that,” I whispered hoarsely. “It is enough.” I felt his muscles relax around me, become a soft cocoon, but my heart wasn’t done hemorrhaging. I scanned his eyes for the truth and in them I found my peace. Not impatience or anger. Only wave upon wave of compassion.

             
“Em, you are so precious to me. I have longed for you for so many years, searched for you in the minds and hearts of so many others, never finding you, never finding the one who fills the empty place inside me.”

             
My finely-constructed walls that I’d erected to hide within melted at that moment. I would have given him everything, all of me. He wouldn’t have taken it though and I treasured him all the more for it.

             
Nick folded himself around me, held fast to my trembling, heaving body. “Hush, my love.” He rocked me in his arms like a child and hummed to me until the sobbing stopped and the tremors subsided. I lapsed into exhausted sleep. “Sleep well,” he said, and his words drifted like enchanted smoke into my dreams.

CHAPTER 18 Broken

              It was one of those rare times that my new friend-immortal actually slept. When I awoke later that afternoon, Nick lay utterly motionless with his dark-shadowed eyes closed. His body still intertwined protectively around mine. I laid my hand on his chest, my head on his shoulder and relaxed into him.

             
A flash brightened the darkness behind my closed eyelids and an impression of Nick interceding for me played like a movie. Images played through my mind of him steadfastly on guard while I slept. I watched as he intercepted and repelled every memory and dream that crept into my mind like so many inferi. Dark-eyed, emaciated figures lurked just outside the penumbra of light that surrounded my home as though waiting for some protective spell to break so that they might enter. Nick repelled them all, and cast them away, virtually purifying my dreams of any grievous images. He shielded my sleep, protected me from myself. I slid my hand between my cheek and his chest to detour the silent tears of gratitude that trickled from the corners of my eyes.

             
It was the middle of the afternoon before either of us moved again. Slowly, we unwound ourselves from each other. Eddyson whimpered at the bedroom door, so I let him out into the snowy yard, then made coffee and got something to eat while Nick showered. My heart skittered erratically as he stepped out of the bathroom with wet tousled hair and ebony blue eyes, the face of a rock god. He took my breath away. A smile crept to my lips at the thought of kissing those perfect Adonis lips; a thought he rewarded generously. I groaned in regret as we parted, even knowing full well I couldn’t spend my
entire
life kissing him. We stood in silence for the longest time; our foreheads pressed together, just enjoying the solidarity of one another’s arms.

             
“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 the 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.