Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) (10 page)

Chapter 12 Last Cigarette

              Nick went home to check in with Sabre. While I waited, agitation beat my nerves into a froth. I pilfered every drawer in the house, my purse, my car, looking for a pack of smokes or maybe a bottle of something warm and numbing. Finding nothing, I gathered my keys and purse and headed for the car and the gas station up the road. I requested some menthols and chose an evil skull lighter. The clerk eyed me suspiciously but didn’t card me. Why the hell would he? I’d been here a thousand times before.

             
I drove home and parked under the carport, stripped the shiny gold strip from around the box and packed the bottom on the heel of my hand. Like rote, I tapped out a cigarette, pressed it to my lips and flicked my Bic. Anticipation of the nicotine hit welled up inside me and I took a deep draw, pulled it into my lungs—and promptly hacked it out again. My stomach roiled and I felt myself go green. I catapulted the cigarette into a snow bank and staggered inside. Eddyson turned up his nose at the smell of my clothes.

             
Sabre totally f’d up my head!!!
I texted Nick.

             
???
Came his reply.

             
U will NEVER guess what I just did.

             
w/ Sabre…anything is possible.

             
I just had my first and last drag from a cigarette.

             
WHAT?

             
U said he was good. I smoked in the weave he did. Rock star, remember?

             
I’m going 2 kick his ass now

             
Nah, it’s all good. just come see me

             
OMW

              Nick’s nose scrunched when he came in and hugged me a couple of minutes later. “You need a shower,” he said.

             
“Yeah, I was thinking so. Give me a minute?” I knew he would. And he knew to multiply that minute by at least twenty.

             
When I came out of the bathroom a little while later, Nick lay on the couch with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of deep sleep. I smiled. It was nice to see him sleep, nice that he felt safe enough in my home to take a nap. My fingers ached to touch him but I knew my touch would roust him from desperately needed sleep. The shadows under his eyes had darkened to deep bruising that would give any vampire a run for their money.

             
Like a breeze, I drifted to the couch, sat on the floor and gazed into his handsome face. But under his dark lids, his eyes rolled and pitched, careening off stark and violent images. He struggled with his dreams. I knew that behavior, had done it myself. Chimera stalked Nick’s sleep.

             
Whisper soft, I grazed my fingers across his brow to quell the storm. He flinched from my touch. His eyes shot open, a view to a turmoil I couldn’t measure. He scanned my face frantically, then scooped me into a quaking hug.

             
“Oh god,” he said, his voice harsh with pain. “Emi…”

             
I petted his hair, comforted him as best I knew how. “It was just a dream. Okay? Just a dream.” What nightmare haunted him that cast such desperation into his heart? What was he so afraid of? I crawled onto the couch beside him and searched his face, his eyes, looking for something out of reach, something ugly and vile that tortured him. Nick pressed his face to my neck, his breath hot and humid on my skin. I raked his hair away from the sweat that glistened on his brow, and tried to reassure him, as he had for me so many times before. “Shh, honey. It’s okay.” But, I was pretty sure everything wasn’t okay in the crazy world of Nickolas Benedetti.

             
“It’s okay,” he echoed. “It was just a dream.”

             
Just a dream. A dream that tattered and tore at him like a rampant cyclone. They say the velocity of a tornado can splinter wood and drive it right through you. Whoever the hell ‘they’ were. This storm that raged in Nick spun him out of control and impaled him with stakes that sliced through his core.

             
After several bracing breaths, and concerted attempts to center himself, he was finally back in control of himself. He raised his face to look into my eyes. Then, cupped my cheek in his hand and began to speak, but decided to kiss me instead. His mouth was soft and gentle against mine, he breathed in my breath like the breath of life—as though salvation poured from my lips.

             
“Emi, I love you, so much,” his throat constricted around the words and my heart constricted against his words.

             
“That sounds like ‘goodbye’, again.” I hardened my heart. Was he trying to leave me again?

             
“No, my love. Not ‘goodbye.’ I will stay until I die, until you command me to leave and even then I’ll linger near to watch over you.”

             
“I will never command you to leave,” I declared.

             
Doubt flashed in his eyes and he pressed his cheek to my chest, listened to the emotional erratic rhythm of my heart.

*          *          *

              Every so often, maybe a couple of times a year, a peanut butter and banana sandwich with a cold glass of milk just hits the spot. And after a tumultuous night’s sleep and skipping breakfast, this was one of those times. The ability to draw such minute memories from deep inside me continued to astound me. Nick even made the mixture just like my mom did, smashing the bananas into the peanut butter with a fork. No doubt he’d pilfered that memory as well. But I was grateful for the thought—and the sandwich.

             
Nick slid up behind me at the sink as I washed the dishes. His arms slid around my waist; his breath warm in my hair.

             
“Shall we take Eddyson for a walk?” he asked.

             
I dried my hands, turned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. His dark eyes, eternal shimmering pools, wove their magic in my heart. “That sounds nice.”

             
Outside, winter was playing at being spring with a warm Chinook wind melting the frozen trees and the frosting on top of my bungalow. Inside, Eddyson’s ears perked at the word ‘walk’. His head bobbed to one side then the other as we repeated the enticing word. His whole body wagged when Nick brought out his leash and harness. We donned our jackets and I stuffed my hair into my laughing skull hat and my hands in my fingerless leather gloves with tiny steel skull rivets across the knuckles. Nick smirked as he fisted his hands in his own leather gloves.

             
“What?” I protested playfully. “You knew what you signed up for here from the beginning, bub.”

             
It was true that I was a bit quirky with a passion for skulls, the more unique the better. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it just felt dark and rebellious to collect such a blatant symbol of death. Maybe it was the death that spoke so deep and familiar to my soul.

             
Nick’s smile grew and liberated mine. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said as he took my hand and led me out of the house.

             
Eddy’s nose hooked a scent the moment the door closed behind us. He tugged and strained on the leash. His jowls flapped, his brow wrinkled to capture the scents only the nose of beagle could detect. We laughed at his boisterous snuffling, the impassioned yips that drove him forward, oblivious of us or anything else in the world.

             
Fall’s tall golden grasses were matted to the ground from the weight of the melting snow. Tiny rivulets of water snaked in silver ribbons through the roots and pooled in low spots. The warm wind pressed at our backs and tugged at the pup’s floppy ears. It felt strange having such a ‘normal’ experience. Nothing had been normal in my life in almost a year; and somehow, I didn’t see normal returning any time soon. There was still a gap in the memories of Nick before and Nick now that puzzled me. Despite having the memories of him back, the time without him was still a cold emptiness within me that should’ve been filled with him.

             
As we crossed Yale Road to the quarry, a flash of mica on the ground reminded me of something else sparkly.

             
“What about the necklace?” I asked. Nick was silent. “The ‘Dream On’ necklace you gave me. Uncle Adrian gave one to me for Christmas, but it’s the same one, isn’t it?”

             
“Yes.” He was quiet, like he didn’t want to say more but knew I expected him to. “It was made especially for you. I wanted you to have it. Even if you couldn’t know it came from me.”

             
We started up the sloping hill to the railroad tracks. “How did Adrian get it?”

             
Nick’s brow crunched up. “I phased in while he was napping on Christmas Eve and put it in his brief case. Then, I gave him the memory of buying it for you, so he could tell Celeste. I just—I wanted you to have it.” Grief or regret, something heavy, constricted Nick’s heart. I could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. Despite my anger at him for bailing on me and extricating my memories of him, I could see that it cost him too, immensely.

             
“Can you—show me—what it was like for you? When you left?” I needed to know the price he’d paid. “Can you show me why you left?”

             
Eddyson stopped to ‘water’ his billionth clump of grass and sniff out the last dog who came this way. Nick slid off his glove and placed his warm, trembling hand on my chest. Perceptions of terror, violence and death bombarded my mind. Stark fear for my life, a cherished treasure, sliced through him in icy anguish so deep it pierced my aching heart. I gasped and stepped away.

             
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

             
How could I be angry at him for what he believed? His very existence was marred by the presence of the Rephaim, and he was loathe to subject me to the violence and horror any more than he already had. The price of my protection had cost him dearly, but the sacrifice was given willingly, out of a love. A love I had yet to give adequate value, or even begin to comprehend, despite his continued professions.

             
I pressed my hands to my chest to quiet the rending of my heart. “Promise me,” I whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me like that again.”             

             
“I can’t…” His eyes darted away and squeezed shut like he couldn’t face the world.

             
“What?” The air sucked out of my lungs. He couldn’t make me this promise? Despite the anguish it caused us both?

             
He held up a finger to me requesting a moment. “I can’t ever, ever leave you,” he finally managed.

             
I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around him, trying to console him. But Eddy had other ideas and yanked at the leash. We laughed at his doggedness and stepped onto the tracks. Only Eddyson’s ceaseless tracking broke the fragile silence that hovered around us until we reached the run-off pond.

             
“I need you to promise me one more thing,” I said. Nick didn’t answer, just squeezed my hand. “Promise me you’ll stop saying you’re sorry. Promise there won’t be a reason for you to have to ask my forgiveness.”

             
“I don’t know if I can promise that, Em. Just being with me puts you in danger and for that I am eternally sorry.”

             
“I understand. I’m asking you not to make decisions that will hurt us both. No matter how gallant or selfless they may be.”

             
Nick released my hand as we traversed the deer path down to the ravine, but took it up again after we crossed the downed fence. Eddy had gotten big enough to jump the wires on his own.

             
“I’ll try,” he said softly, reluctance at agreeing to a binding contract strained his voice.

             
“‘Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try’,” I quoted from another favorite movie.

             
Nick chuckled. “I will ‘do’,” he said. “What’s with you and movie quotes, anyway?”

             
“Great wisdom comes from the big screen,” I swore solemnly with my hand to my heart.

             
Winter still held the forest scents captive, but warm wind lured the ravens out to ride the currents. A tiny grey rabbit barely caught our notice in the brown-grey underbrush. The subtle twitch of his nose and the glint off its black eyes were all that we saw before he launched into the bushes. Deep pocks in the soft mud revealed the trail of deer foraging for any tiny blade of green grass courageous enough to poke through last fall’s debris.