Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3) (26 page)

Chapter
33  Justice in Murder

              When I coalesced back into the shop, Thomas held Sabre at bay with a machete to his throat. A single, minute flick of his wrist would sever the carotid artery and he’d bleed out in moments.

             
“She’d have been mine, if it weren’t for you!” Thomas snarled in Sabre’s face.

             
I didn’t need to ask. This age-old grudge was about the girl, Sarah Rose. The girl who chose Sabre over Thomas.

             
“She was never yours to claim,” Sabre countered. “Her love was mine.”

             
Thomas heaved Sabre away from the garage and slammed him back against it with a growl. “She could have grown to love me.” The Caphar simply shook his head, as though the message would never get through.

             
The Wraith pressed the blade tip, just enough to puncture the skin. Sabre’s hands rose slowly from his sides in placation—or surrender. His eyes darted to me and their message scared me more than anything the man had ever done. Was he begging for forgiveness? Forgiveness for what? What addled thoughts were going through that unstable Weaver mind of his? I reached out to touch his mind, but even now, he was blocking me. His pleading gaze diverted my eyes from the blood-soaked katana in Thomas’ other hand. Thomas arced his arm up toward Sabre’s gut. The vacuous suck of steel as it mangled his flesh and the throb of pain in his eyes, brought me to reality.

             
“NO!” I screamed as bubbles of crimson frothed from Sabre’s mouth and spilled down his chin and chest. Nick phased in, and crouched beside me. He grabbed my arms, searching for damage. He followed the path of my horror-stricken gaze, just as Thomas jerked the blade from Sabre’s body, and cackled.

             
No! No no no! This cannot be happening! Not to the infamous Sabre James.

             
Nick’s body froze. Time stood still. Sabre crumbled to the ground in slow motion with an anguished groan. “No…” he echoed me, but the word was quiet like the final, dying report of an echo. His hands, that only a moment ago were clutching me, now pushed me away as he launched himself at the Wraith.

             
“Nick! Stop!” But all he could see was vengeance. My plea went unheard as he drove forward to extinguish this eternal pestilence from our lives. Sabre was right about keeping my vision from Nick. His need for vengeance blinded to all else.

             
Nick whipped out a sai from each hip as he advanced on Thomas. Like the devil wielding his pitchfork, he brandished the weapons better than any mutant Ninja turtle ever. The metal sliced through the air, fast and furious. Thomas backed away, for the first time ever, in fear. There was no tirade, no vicious monologuing, just Nick’s determination to rid the Earth of this blight, once and for all.

             
I raced to Sabre’s side and fell to my knees. Blood pooled in the wound and bubbled from his lips. “Oh God. This is bad. This is so bad.” Sabre just gazed up at me. Like the moon overhead, his eyes only half-lit with life. I needed to stop the bleeding. I needed something absorbent to press to the wound, but I had nothing but the clothes on my back. I stripped off my t-shirt, wadded it up and pressed it to the wound. He winced and groaned. “I’m sorry. I have to stop the bleeding.” His mouth softened with sorrow, as though I was the one deserving of benevolence.

             
Nick and Thomas scuffled close by, ripping and tearing at one another with the ferocity of the wildest, most brutal beasts. Locked in battle, they crashed in a heap only feet away. I arched over Sabre to protect him from the fray. Desperation spiked Thomas’ Rephaim powers, and he slashed and hacked with primal savagery. With a swirl of the katana, he disarmed Nick, slammed him to the ground and pressed the tip of the blade to his throat until the skin puckered. My hand flew to Ari, even as her talons ripped my skin.
Ari! Get him out of there!
The spider fizzled under my fingertips, and a moment later, Nick phased from the Wraith’s grasp. Thomas bellowed his wrath at the loss of his foe. With nostrils flaring like a raging bull, he stomped toward Sabre and me huddled on the ground. He hoisted Sabre’s katana over his head with the vengeful desire of beheading me. A fitting retribution in his eyes.
Payback’s a bitch!
he snarled at me
.
I coiled around Sabre and prepared to phase us both to safety. My muscles tensed. I squeezed my eyes closed, and imagined helium filling our bodies. But the clash of metal to metal snapped me back to the yard.

             
Nick hovered over us as a shield, his face a rigid resolution set in stone. Nearly a century of rage blazed in his dark eyes like the pits of hell. A heavy iron lance, with two small glass ampoules at the base of the spearhead, whirled in his hands. A coffee-colored liquid sloshed inside the ampoules with Nick’s every move. Lye. The cyclone of battle resumed as Nick answered Thomas’ challenge, rage for rage, and strike for strike. The katana rang off the lance over and over, as Nick spun the weapon, ducked, slashed and thrust, landing strikes to every inch of the Wraith he could access. Determination welled in Nick’s chest. Determination to make this the last stand, to end this chaos for all time. From the go, Nick got the upper hand, and backed Thomas away from us.

             
I turned my attention back to Sabre. His dark head rested in the crook of arm and I brushed wayward tendrils of hair from his clammy brow. For the first time since I’d known him, Sabre looked like an innocent boy, not the hard, harsh figure of a man he presented to others. “You need to phase, Sabre,” I encouraged softly. “You’ll die. You gotta phase now.” Oddly, he only gazed back up to me with a faint smile. His cold fingers trembled across my bare shoulder, and reminded me that I was down to my jeans and bra. Flashes of Sabre’s ‘rock star’ weave flitted through my mind.

             
“So—soft,” he murmured and hacked up another pint of blood.

             
I dabbed his chin with the sleeve of my shirt. “Sabre. Honey. You need to phase. Please.”

             
He blinked, long and slow, as though he was slipping into sleep, then answered with the tiniest shake of his head.

             
A growl of rage erupted from Nick as he slammed the Wraith against the garage wall with the lance in a chokehold at his throat. “It’s time for you to die!” he growled.

             
Lights glanced across the two men as the staccato pop of tires on loose gravel drew all of our attention. A black and white cop car skidded to a halt and the silhouette of an officer spilled from the vehicle, gun drawn and aimed at Nick’s chest.
Just. Fucking. Great!
Just what we needed: police interference. The red dot from the cop’s laser sites danced on Nick’s chest. I eased Sabre to the ground and stood, my hands spread in surrender.

             
“Officer. This isn’t what it looks like,” I said. But who the hell was I kidding? This was exactly what it looked like. Murder. Cold, hard, justifiable murder. The red dot swung across the yard and centered on my heart. A flashlight clicked to life, blinding me. The figure was silent, except for rasping breaths that made the dot bobble up and down.

             
Thomas made use of the distraction to try and struggle away, but Nick growled, dark and feral, and slammed him back against the garage. Then, the Wraith began to laugh. My eyes searched out Nick’s for explanation.

             
“It’s good to see you tonight, Officer,” Thomas jeered. “It seems our young friends are up to no good.”

             
Our young friends?
Was this another Wraith come to aid his comrade? Nick smashed his fists into Thomas’ chest and the red dot floated back to him—dead center. Thomas devolved into a sinister chortle.

             
“Officer? I can explain…” But I had no idea what to tell him.

             
“Yes, Miss Sweet. Do let us hear,” Thomas said.

             
The dot swung back to me, as though the cop was confused on which target to take down. I shielded my eyes from the flashlight beam aimed at my face. Maybe this cop was a rookie, fresh out of the academy. What a way to begin a career in law enforcement.

             
“Emari?” The cops voice creaked like a rusty wheel, but even through the rasps, I recognized it.

             
“Molly?”

             
The light wobbled as though the effort to maintain it was against her will.

             
“Keep your hands where I can see them, Miss Sweet,” she commanded with valor that didn’t seem quite genuine.

             
“Molly. There’s a lot going on here you don’t understand.” And how was I supposed to make her understand that we had good reason for killing this thing that called himself a man? It went against everything she believed, everything she’d been trained. Or, was she one of them: a Rephaim?

             
Thomas struggled against Nick’s hold, and Molly’s eyes raced back and forth between us. She stepped into the penumbra of light encircling the yard and her face held the deadpan expression of a woman haunted by the darkest of demons. Her aim faltered a moment, but she recovered and brought the beam of red light to bear on my chest.

             
The struggle between the two men recommenced as Thomas used Molly’s distraction to gain the upper hand. They whirled and roared around the yard like a nightmare tornado. Sabre groaned, a gurgling death groan. I needed to get back to him. I lowered my hands and took a tentative step in his direction, but the sound of the safety on Molly’s weapon halted me in my tracks.

             
“Molly. My friend is hurt. He’s going to die. I need to help him.”

             
She blinked, scared and confused, and risked a glance at Sabre’s prone body.

             
“Emari…” Her voice twisted with the same fear and uncertainty. But she cocked her head, like Eddy hearing a strange noise and her eyes grew coal black and hard as rock. “That’s just what we want,” she sneered. “We want you all to die.”

             
Nick and Thomas crashed to the ground, and I used the diversion to disarm my friend. Then, I submersed her into the deepest sleep of her life and settled her back into her cruiser. I’d have to deal with her later. Sabre and Nick needed me now. I raced to Sabre’s side and lifted him into my lap. His dark chocolate eyes were closed, and shallow, pain-filled gasps lifted his chest.

             
“Hey,” I whispered as I brushed away a wayward rarefied tear from his cheek. “Come on, Sabre. Phase.” A faint smile curled his mouth. At least I knew he could still hear me. Anger rose up inside me like molten lava. I wanted to throttle him, bash his head on the ground until he saw sense. “Why do you
always
have to be such an ass?!” I seethed.

             
“Because you wouldn’t know me any other way,” he rasped out.

             
“I’d like the chance to try.” But only a small shake of his head answered me.

             
Once again, Nick and Thomas crashed against the side of the garage. Nick captured the Wraith against the wall, and the fiercest, most ruthless snarl I’d ever heard erupted from his throat. The time for words and illusions was done. It was time to end this. Finally and forever. In a blurring flurry of speed, he spun the lance, and cut across Thomas’ throat. Blood spilled down the Wraith’s chest. As he stood appalled, Nick whirled the lance again and brought the tip up into his chest cavity. Thomas gasped in pain, almost astounded that Nick had bested him. The Caphar sneered in his face. With a final flick of his wrist, I heard the quiet crunch of breaking glass as the double dose of lye bubbled into his body. Bloodied foam ate away at his insides. Thomas’ moan devolved into a scream that died as he did—as his body slid to the ground.

             
“For good, this time,” Nick growled at the corpse and launched a well-aimed kick to the side of his head.

             
“Nick! We need you!” I called out.

             
As though lost in a nightmare, Nick scanned the yard until his eyes locked on me cradling Sabre in my lap. He phased to my side, winded and panicked. “How bad? Will he be okay?” His hands wandered helplessly over his mentor’s body. So much blood saturated Sabre’s clothes, he didn’t know where to look for the source. Wrenching his eyes from his mentor, he scanned my body for damage. Blood, not a drop of it my own, smeared my belly, chest and arms, turning tacky as it dried. “Where’s your shirt?” A shadow of worry ghosted over his face, but the words fell flat, sapped of emotion and energy.

             
I nodded to the no-longer-pink t-shirt with a smiling sugar skull, now saturated with blood. “He won’t phase. I told him, Nick. But he won’t. He just lays there with this stupid little smile and won’t do it.”

             
Nick transferred Sabre’s weight into his own arms and gazed down at him. Tears sparkled on his eyelashes, but he blinked them away.