Breaking Normal (Dream Weaver #3) (4 page)

Chapter 6
Hate is Such a Strong Word

              Nick stood framed by my bedroom doorway, his arms folded protectively over his chest. And brutally handsome as always. I scowled at the thunderous swooning of my heart and he winced.

             
“Hey,” he finally said once he’d regained his courage.

             
“Hey back,” I answered and allowed the tiniest twinge of a smile to crook my mouth. I almost hoped it didn’t look like a snarl.

             
“May I come in? Please?”

             
My eyes flashed to the poster of Vlad Tepes on my wall. “I thought we determined you’re not a vampire and you don’t need an invitation.”

             
“All the same….” His face contorted with reticence and uncertainty.

             
How was it that I could love and hate him all at the same time? I wondered if there was ever a time Mom and Dad felt that way. I would’ve never known. Apparently, there was a lot about my parents, and the past that I didn’t know. “I suppose.”

             
He shambled in and sank into the rocking chair beside the bed like his legs could no longer hold up the weight on his shoulders. His fingers laced together then separated and drummed on his knees like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or he was stalling a confession.

             
“Nick…” I said, just as he was saying ‘Emari.’

             
He shot me a timid smile but his eyes darted back to the floor. His hands fidgeted until he finally laced them together in a tight knot that blanched the color from his knuckles. His elbows were propped on his knees and he hunched over as if his chest was caving in.

             
“Please…I just want you to hear me out. I’ll tell you anything and everything you want to know.” The words groaned out of him, compressed by fear and guilt, and I quelled the anger that bubbled up in response. “I don’t know where you want me to start.”

             
A swarm of emotions dive-bombed my mind like a murder of crows all suddenly took wing at once, and I didn’t realize I’d curled into a ball and covered my head until he whispered my name. I opened my eyes to find him kneeling beside the bed, a tremulous hand reaching to touch my arm. Clashing emotions pummeled my heart. I snatched his trembling hand and pressed it to my chest. And shoved all the riotous images roiling inside me at him.

              Confusion. Illusion. And lies. A paradox of love and hate. Betrayal, duplicity and candor. My mother. My father. And Nick. My reality tainted. Rage so hot it broiled my insides—as I imagined his blood on my hands with glee. A preternatural love that consumed my heart—a love that would not be denied despite my will to rebuff it. All crashed and clashed together inside me in a cacophony of turmoil.

              “Oh god, Emi. I never meant…I swore to Zecharias I would protect you—I would keep any harm from coming to you. I never…” Now, my hand was pressed to his chest and his heart thundered against my fingertips.

             
“When…” the word eked, hoarse and breathless from my lips. I cleared my throat. “When did you meet my father?”

             
“Both of our names were drawn for the draft back in 1971.” He spoke immediately, as though any delay would be seen as deception. “We did basic together. Shipped out together. We were scouts once they got us in-country. It was our job, our unit’s job, to protect the hospital in PhuBai.” Nick’s eyes glossed over as his vision receded into the past. Anticipation and fear roared through me. “Zecharias—your dad and I led our platoon on daily excursions around the perimeter of the hospital to make sure the Cong weren’t getting too close—and to dispatch them if they did. You kind of get bonded to the guys you serve with, and your dad was no exception. All the guys loved him. Would’ve done anything for him—even died for him. He was just that sort of guy.”

             
I bristled at his familiarity. “Don’t presume to tell me what kind of man my father was.”

             
Nick nodded, but his mind was still in Nam. Not even the thought of ‘as you wish’ played on his lips. “May I show you the night your father discovered what I am?”

             
I returned his nod.

              Nick’s thoughts turned black as night, and it wasn’t until I heard the sonorous rumble of snoring that I realized it was night. The dark smelled of sweaty men and gun powder and sewage pits. A resounding thud shattered the quiet darkness and snores were replaced by grunts of alarm.

             
“Benedetti. Hit the generator. Give us some light!”

             
Another crash vibrated the metal roof overhead. Men in their skivvies, locked and loaded M16’s and scrambled to the windows.

             
“Probably just the goddamn rock apes again,” grumbled the commander.

             
“Nam has some crazy apes,” Nick’s voice broke into the scene. “They’d come to the base at night and lob rocks at the buildings. Scared the hell out of us. We shot at them most of the time, just because we were never sure if it was them or the Cong. And if it was the Cong, we’d never know in the light of day because they both carried off their dead.”

             
“Hmph.” It was all I could muster. The scene continued.

             
“Anybody see movement?” hollered the commander.

             
“No, sir,” came from every corner of the room.

             
“PFC Sweet, take three men and survey the compound.”

             
“Sir, yes, sir.” My heart clenched at the sight of my dad, so young, so brave. “Wilkins. Rovnikov. Benedetti. Let’s go.”

             
But before the men could don their khakis and gather themselves to leave, another ‘rock’ hit the side of the Quonset hut and rolled down the side with a familiar metal on metal rumble. Dad barely got the word ‘grenade!’ out before the wall buckled inward from the blast.

             
Nick filtered none of the sensations. I got the full brunt of the explosion’s roar, the blinding flash, the heat that seared his skin, the metal fragments that ripped through his chest as he placed himself between Dad and the blast. I gasped for air at the same moment as his image, and clutched at my own chest. My father’s arms were around him before he hit the floor and lowered him gently down.

             
“Nick. Why?” My father shook him, his face twisted in anguish.

             
“Better me than you, man,” Nick groaned out.

             
“Report!” barked their commander.

             
“All’s well, sir,” echoed around the smoke-filled hut.

             
“Nick’s down, sir,” Dad shouted.

             
“Sweet! Stay with him. Wilkins! Find a medic. Everybody else, you’re with me. Let’s hunt these bastards!”

             
Smoke followed the platoon outside like a shadow, clearing the view of Nick cradled in Dad’s arms. Dad’s hand covered the sucking wound in Nick’s chest, and Nick grew pale and grey.

             
“Hang in there, Nick. Medic’s coming.”

             
Nick shook his head. “No. Not gonna make it, bud.”

             
“No. No.” Devout affection welled in Dad’s chest. This fellow officer, this man, had placed his own body in harm’s way—for him. “You hang on. You’re not dying on me.”

             
“There’s only—one way—for me…” Blood bubbled from Nick’s chest, thick and crimson. “You have to—keep my secret…”

             
“What? What secret?”

             
“I’ll tell you—everything—when I get back. But—you must swear…” Nick’s eyes plead with my father for his oath. “Swear, or I’ll die.”

             
“I swear. I swear.”

             
Nick’s body went limp and a sob lurched in Dad’s chest. Through pinched, panicked eyes, he saw the first sparkles as Nick began to phase. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands to clear his vision, and rattled his head in disbelief. Then, Nick phased completely out of sight. Dad threw his arms wide and scanned the floor around him for his comrade. Incoherent curses spilled from his lips. His chest convulsed for gasps of breath as though there was not enough air in the world to sustain him. A glimmer pooled a few feet before him and he scuttled away as Nick phased back in.

             
“What the hell!” Dad stared in disbelief. What the hell had just happened?

             
“Please…” Nick reached a bloodied hand to him. “I’m not all the way healed. Just…please, don’t tell anyone what you saw.”

             
“No one would believe me. They’d Section 8 me. How did you do that? What are you?”

             
“I’ll tell you, I swear. But I need to…”

             
The barracks door slammed open and the commander stormed in. “Perimeter’s clear. How’s…Benedetti?”

             
“Not as bad as I originally thought, sir,” Dad stammered through ashen lips.

             
“Sweet? You hit? You don’t look so good.”

             
“Sir?” Dad’s gaze dashed between his commander and Nick, who pleaded with my father with his eyes. “No, sir. I’m fine. Just a little shook up.”

             
“Fine. Get Nick to the medic and report back to me pronto.”

              I opened my eyes to find Nick staring at the floor. Gratitude seeped into my heart, but my anger squelched it.
But he saved Daddy’s life,
I argued, and my anger silenced.

             
“Out on patrols, every time we had a moment alone, I began to reveal my secrets to your father,” he whispered.

             
“Why didn’t you just erase the memories?”

             
“I don’t know…there was just—something about him that made me want him to know. It wasn’t until we got back stateside and I introduced him to Sabre that we realized he may be Caphar. You know Sabre. He had to conduct experiments and soon discovered that both Zecharias and Adrian carried the gene. At the time, we had no idea that death was the catalyst that unleashes the anomaly.”

             
Silence stretched, heavy and grating between us. “Thank you,” I finally mumbled.

             
Nick glanced up, his brows crunched together in question.

             
“For saving my dad’s life.” If the shrapnel from that grenade had hit my father instead of Nick, my father would be dead. Or, he’d be fully Caphar. The timing was about right.

             
“Zecharias was my friend. He saved me in ways I can’t even explain, even before the grenade attack.” Nick scrabbled in his jacket pocket and drew out an envelope. It jittered in his hand as he stretched it toward me. The paper was yellowed and gritty with dust. And on the front, in Dad’s blocky writing it said: To my Jewel, my Emari.

             
I retreated to corner of the bedroom to read.

My Dearest Emari,

If this letter is in your hands something must have happened to me and your mother. I am truly sorry if that is the case. I love you, my darling. Please forgive me for keeping such huge secrets from you. Your mom and I were waiting to see if you manifested as a Dream Weaver…I’m sure my friend Nick has filled you in by now. The enemy is not interested in non-exhibiting Caphar, but for some reason, they took interest me. And then in you. We had to keep you safe from a very dangerous world. I want you to understand, I trust Nickolas and Sabre with my life…and more, I trust them with yours. Nick has pledged to keep you safe whether or not you manifest as Caphar. He is not a man to make a careless vow, so I know you will be in good hands. There is so much to say, and so much you must learn.

All I can leave you are memories and you must always hold tight to them, hold them in your heart, cherish them for the precious moments they are…

I love you just doesn’t seem enough to say. From the moment I saw your sparkling green eyes, I knew that all that I am, all that have were yours. The flutter of your heartbeat even before birth enraptured me. I knew I would be anything, do anything just because of the gift of your life in mine.

I love you, my darling beautiful girl.

Daddy

             
I crushed the letter to my chest.
My Daddy.
Nick phased in beside me and wrapped me in his arms. The joy and the grief tempered the anger and I melted against him. He sighed in relief like I’d finally come home.