Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) (14 page)

             
“It’s fine. Just one more witness to the glorious crash and burn of the infamous Sabre James.”

             
Stung by the venom, I could only gape at him.

             
A car door slammed.

             
“Did you lock the door?” I asked.

             
Nick rolled his eyes, a gesture I was sure he’d gotten from her. “My hands were a little full, if you remember.”

             
“Shhh.”

             
A knock thundered through the empty house. We sat like statues, still and unbreathing. The knock sounded again. I shot a glance of panic at Nick but he shook his head in disdain and turned away. The pup was silent in his kennel, still cowed by the scent of death and the anger in Nick’s voice. Another knock.
Persistent little bastard!
Panic clouded my judgment. Should I phase without him? No. He’d see it as just another betrayal. Finally, the engine of the car revved, and we heard the tires crunch away down the drive. Despite acting unconcerned, Nick released a relieved sigh. But, the deep-seated dread remained. The final hours were fast approaching.

             
I had to admit the girl looked anything but alive. I couldn’t conceive of what was happening to her body. If I was wrong, she was decaying; her smell would ripen. Soon. And then what? I was not accustomed to disposing of mortal bodies. Generally, a dead Caphar will disintegrate to dust at the end of his days; and the Rephaim we’d killed were disposed of in a barrel of lye. But a mortal body shattered from a fall? I couldn’t see Nick allowing me to place Emari’s body in barrel. I continued to hope I was right and her body was knitting its brokenness under the swaddling of blankets he’d wrapped her in.

             
“What were you thinking, Sabre?! Look at her! Does she look ‘alive’ to you? Do you ever stop to
think
before you do something or do you really just not give a shit?” Nick was shouting again, backing me against a wall, jabbing his finger into my chest. I could have knocked him on his ass and he knew it. But I had done enough. Perhaps too much.

             
Despite an hour of sleep, I felt haggard and weak. “I give a shit,” I retorted. Even to my own ears, I sounded uncharacteristically meek—and it was getting old.

             
Nick stormed away, still raging at me for my stupidity, my compulsive nature, my ‘damned experiments.’ “What if you’re wrong, Sabre?! What if you made the damned decision and you’re wrong? I could have saved her. I could have reached her hand. I was almost there and you just had to…”

             
He was right. He could have saved her. Easily. But if I was right, she would return to him. Better. Stronger. For the better part of forever. Doubt eked through me like the crawling London fog on a dark night I remembered from so long ago as a child. Forty-eight hours had nearly ticked away; the deadline to her mortality or immortality.

             
Nick finally deigned to allow me at her side. Her cold hand rested like ice in my grasp.
Cold? Not cold and stiff?

             
“Nick. Did she ever go into rigor?” I asked on another damned hunch. Nick closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. His lips pinched shut, like he was barring angry words. “No, listen. ATP stops flowing in the muscles when a body dies. It’s like a conduit for the electrical impulses that keep the muscles soft and fluid. If the body didn’t go into rigor…” Nick’s nostrils flared and I knew I said the wrong the thing. Emari wasn’t ‘the body.’ And I used the word ‘if’ again. I didn’t think he could stand another ‘if’, even if it meant a ray of hope. So I closed my mouth and hovered silently, watching her with eager eyes for any sense of movement, a breath, a pulse, a twitch of an eye—anything. My body was rigid with tension and hope, nearly as cold and still as the girl.

             
Nick paced the room like an anxious father in a waiting room anticipating the birth of a child. He picked up books, gazed at them without seeing, then put them down; peered out the window to the darkness; glared daggers at me; grumbled swear words at me. He stared at Emari’s movie monsters like he, too, believed I belonged right there with them. The sudden and brutal truth of what they’d called me so many times, sank my heart like an anchor. It was true.
I have finally proven, without a doubt, that I am indeed an ass
.

             
As though my inner confession held the power of life, Emari’s body suddenly arched and jolted as if a surge of electric heat shot through it. She gasped and convulsed in pain. Her eyes shot open and stared, unseeing, her vision obscured by the haze of death that coated her lenses. The room, that was silent before, grew more silent yet as wonder short-circuited both of us. Nick flew to my side, his hands vibrated gentle caresses across her face, and clutched at her hand like a man about to drown. My trembling fingers enclosed her other hand, rubbed the coldness from it. Her joints hadn’t yet shaken off the effects of transience. Deftly, I worked the joints, loosening the death that had possessed her body. My throat seized. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even find it in myself to gloat; couldn’t find room for ‘I told you so’s’.

             
I’d been a mortician in another life, back when found him, so Nick followed my lead. We flexed and straightened each finger; massaged her palms, flexed her wrists, elbows and shoulders. Her chest pulsed with shallow, panicked breaths.

             
“It’s okay, Em. Everything’s gonna be fine now,” Nick comforted her and petted her hair.

             
Finally, her eyes cleared and darted questioningly between Nick and me. She choked and sputtered, trying to speak. “In time,” I soothed her and patted her shoulder. I remembered finding Nick, the fear and confusion in his eyes. I laughed at my reprieve, so grateful not to be wrong. I touched her pinking face just to tactilely verify the life within her—to feel her warmth, the pulse under her skin.               She struggled again for speech and Nick leaned closer to her lips. Her eyes closed as though digging in for strength. “What, Sweetie?” He stroked her hair from her face.

             
“Potty mouth,” she breathed through half-frozen vocal chords.

             
Nick chuckled, kissed her forehead, and bathed her cheeks with his tears.

Chapter 17 I’m Not Dead

Emari

             
A lot can happen to a girl in a year. She can survive, and wonder why. She can lose her innocence, and find her way. She can fall in love, and be afraid. And on a cold, dark night, at the hands of a friend—she can die.

              I’d never been colder in my life. Icebergs gouged their way through my veins. Every muscle spasmed out of control. My teeth rattled together like ice cubes in a glass. Nick wrapped us both in my fleecy blanket so his body heat calmed my shivers.

             
“Wh-why am I s-so f-freakin’ c-cold?” I stammered.

             
Nick smiled because I didn’t swear.

             
“Aside from the fact that you just came back from the dead?” Sabre teased. “Your body is in a sort of shock. I was telling Nick about the ATP in your muscles that stops working when you die. It’s what causes rigor. I believe once it starts flowing again, your muscles are a little confused.” Nick huffed a frustrated snort. “You’ll probably feel better faster if you move around.” Nick squeezed me closer and glared at his friend. “Remember, Nick?”

             
Sabre’s arm was wrapped around Nick’s waist, escorting him past the rows of the departed in the makeshift morgue where Sabre found him. They eased out a back door into the inky night. Despite the autumn chill, heat radiated in Nick’s chest and spread through him with each footstep.

              Nick gasped as the images spilled from his memories into me. “Geezuz!” he gasped. “That wasn’t abrupt or anything.”

             
“S-sorry.” Though I wasn’t quite sure why. “May-be I sh-ould get up…” I wanted to say more but the shivers frustrated me. Nick helped me to my feet and guided me around the room. And just like his memory, heat bloomed in my chest and thawed the ice in my muscles with each step I took. “I’m—good—now,” I told him after several minutes of pacing the room. He scowled and I knew he didn’t want to release me. He just got me back. I raised my hand to his face with only a tiny tremor and cupped his cheek. He was so warm. I wanted to curl up next to him and steal his heat. My thumb grazed delicately over his lips. “It’s o-kay.”
Damn it!
I didn’t like the wobble in my voice. He wasn’t convinced but relinquished his hold. I wandered the house in silence, a little discomfited by their constant gazes, like I might just fall down dead again.             

             
Sabre had never been real touchy-feely with me, but now, each time I got within arm’s length, his hands brushed my arm, my back. He suddenly reached out and drew me into his arms. Silent and still, he held me, until his body shuddered. Then, just as quickly, he moved away. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, and I cast questioning looks across the room to Nick. He was no help. He scowled at his mentor, then smiled at me. His shoulders crooked up, and his mouth twitched upward at the corners. Was Sabre trying to tell me he was sorry? Sorry that he’d plunged me to my mortal death? Sorry he allowed me to die, and awaken like him and Nick? Or did he really care? Maybe he was just glad he was right. Now that would be a truly Sabre-ish response.

             
A mist-grey day was awakening on the horizon, and I wished Sabre would leave. His silent ruminating was driving me nuts. I was sure he was wearing the varnish off the floorboards; and that Eddyson was nearly as frustrated with his affectionate mauling as I was. So when he finally set the pup down and announced his departure, I breathed a sigh of relief. But he just
had
to hug me one more time, then took both of my hands in his own.

             
“Emari…”

             
“Sabre, what are…” But my throat seized around the words. His hands seared against mine. My heart slammed against my ribs, and the room vanished. And I saw everything. Sabre’s heart illuminated before my eyes. Sorrow, centuries-old loneliness, jealousy, anger, comprehension, fear, anguish, panic, relief. Wave upon wave hurtled into my mind with images of the last few weeks. Sabre’s voice whispered in my mind.
I have finally proven, without a doubt, that I am indeed an ass.
And I wanted to agree. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t say I was happy about his ‘damned experiments’ and ‘hunches’—not sure that immortality was truly what I wanted. Up to this point, life kinda sucked; and now he wanted me to be immortal? This would take some time to wrap my head around.

             
I wanted to be angry. Truly. But the Sabre I saw in his memories was not nearly the Sabre he portrayed on the outside. Perhaps, this was the man that Nick loved so dearly. I stretched up to my tip toes, drew him close, and pressed my cool cheek to the heat of his. There were only three words he needed to hear from me and I wouldn’t be the one to withhold them and hold him captive. He couldn’t apologize because he honestly wasn’t sorry for the decision he made. But for the physical pain? For the mental anguish he inflicted on Nick? For that, he felt regret.

             
“I forgive you,” I whispered in his ear.

             
Sabre’s body melted against mine, and once again his arms enfolded me. “Thank you.” Nick’s presence tugged at me. Sabre cleared his throat and straightened himself like he was someone too cool and in control to be hugging me like that. He walked away into the darkened kitchen. Scattered sparkles of light bounced off the leaded glass built-ins, and he was gone. I was so intent on watching the dancing lights that I hadn’t heard Nick’s approach behind me. I started at his touch.

             
“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice warm and soft as velvet.

             
“Will I be able to do that?” I asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

             
“Sure, but I’d like to keep you in one piece for a while. It can be very—disorienting at first.”

             
I turned in the circle of his arms. “Then, teach me something else. I want to know everything. I want to know all of the old stories.”

             
“Slow down, Em. You don’t have to do everything at once. Let’s see if you’re able to memoryprint.” He pulled me to the front door and the crystal bowl that held my father’s military ribbons. Before Christmas, we rummaged through the boxes of my parent’s belongings in the garage, and found Daddy’s ribbons and pocketknife, and Mom’s cameo locket. Nick dragged me to the couch and pulled me down beside him. With tenderness and respect, he placed the ribbons in the palm of my hand, curled my fingers around them, then slid away from me.

             
My eyes narrowed with disappointment, but he reached over, took my hand and pressed his lips to my curled fingers. “I, uh, tend to leak when I’m too close to you. So, if it’s going to be all you, I need to keep my distance.”

             
“Oh. Yeah. There is that.” Though I still sounded wounded.

             
He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “Now, close your eyes and relax. Don’t try. The memories will just come.”

             
I closed my eyes, took a cleansing breath and cleared my mind, not really expecting anything. Just because Nick and Sabre could memoryprint didn’t mean I could. Nick told me most Caphar only receive a single gift, and Sabre believed my gift was prescience—seeing the future. But, almost instantly, a prick of electricity stabbed my hand and shot up my arm. A brief view of deep green jungle manifested before me, but my eyes shot open in surprise. The smoldering ink of Nick’s eyes and an awed grin took the place of the shuddering emerald.

             
“Whoa!”

             
That Cheshire cat smile split his face. “I’m impressed. That was incredibly fast. Now, you know how it feels. Just relax and accept the memory.”

             
“Okay. Here goes.” I closed my eyes again and released myself to the sultry jungle.

              The jade forest effused around me, stinking of sulfur and rot; like the stink of a truck stop restroom only in the outdoors. Monsoon season brought waters deep into the jungle turning dirt to mud that devoured our boots. I stank of sweat, but taking a shower in this forest was like bathing in a glacier. No hot water. I flipped a small, coarse towel over my camo shoulder and clomped to the wooden foot bridge that ran across the muck. I kept my eyes on the plank of wood before me, trying not to step off into the mire. But a shadow of brown caught my attention, and I cast a look before me. A few dozen feet ahead, toddled the biggest rat I’d ever seen. This thing was the size of a schnauzer; a low-riding, dumpy, ugly ball of fur and teeth. It’s nose twitched at me, its whiskers bobbled with curiosity. My feet cemented to the plank as the rat-hound lumbered forward intent on its course, careless of what lay in its path. I hated rats. And I hated this one more just because of its sheer size. As it plodded toward me, fierce and focused, I had no choice but to step off into the muck to avoid its razor teeth and claws. Command warned us when we arrived in the jungles of Nam, of these creature’s ferocity. My foot sank into the mud with a squishy suck, and cold muddy water dribbled over the tops of my boots. My opponent lumbered past and I stepped back onto the plank leaving blops of mud in my wake. I trudged to the latrine to at least wash my face and freshen my armpits. Light from outside eked up the drain, but as I reached for the spigot, the light eclipsed and the biggest cockroach I’d ever seen scuttled out of the hole. I jerked my hand away despite knowing the creature the size of my hand was harmless. Damn, but they grew their critters big here. I bet the locals would consider this cockroach a delicacy. Him and the rat, too. I let him hurry on his way in hopes his carcass would not be on the next menu.

              My mind flashed to Nick, and the comfort and seclusion of my home. Anxiety still laced through my veins. The pungent odor of sweat lingered in my nostrils.

             
“Daddy never told me that story,” I told him. My voice squeaked out, sharp and tinny, like that nasty dog-sized rodent.

             
Nick slid closer and wrapped me in his warmth. “You’ll discover much more of your parents as you practice your memoryprinting. Things they would have told you but never got a chance.” Nick was silent a moment, his eyes eluding mine. “Emari? There will be things you learn about your parents that you may not want to know.” Somewhere under all the words, a darker truth smoldered.

             
I considered this. Maybe there were things about Nick that he didn’t want me to know; he was definitely keeping a cache of something dark and troubling. Something about his past? About the blood and gore of the death of his family?

             
After Nick texted Sabre about my memoryprinting, his gaze followed me as I wandered the house. My fingers grazed every inanimate object. But the images were chaotic, so jumbled and confused that I couldn’t focus on anything specific.

             
“Why can’t I read this? It’s all just a scrambled mess,” I whined.

             
“Remember, I told you that memories are compartmentalized?
”
he asked. I nodded. “Well, with a memoryprint, it’s like using a search engine. If you only put in a general term, you get a broad result. If you’re more specific, you yield more specific results. Try focusing on one person in particular that touched the item and even, a specific time.”

             
I closed my eyes and focused on the front door. My fingers caressed the thickly varnished grains in the wood. Pulling on recent events, I drew out the memory of Nick repairing the door after Sabre kicked it in. Sabre thought Ivy and I were under attack and stormed the house prepared to find—something ‘bad’ going on inside. At the time, I feared all the silly girly-ness that followed Sabre’s dramatic entry had bored or exasperated Nick. But as I stood, grazing the wood grain with my fingertips, I saw his satisfaction at watching Ivy and me together. He likened our comradery to his relationship with Sabre. His fondness for my beloved friend was self-evident, and the warm encompassing love he felt for me forced my eyes open in search of his face.

             
“Thank you for fixing my door, by the way,” I said at random.

             
“Sure thing.” His smile tugged my heart. I knew he was aware of what memory I rendered from the door.

             
“Will I have perfect recall, too?”

             
“You already do. Whatever it is that happens to the brain when you—transform, it cements every memory you’ve ever had, will ever have, into your brain.”

             
Drifting like a ghost around my century-old home, I caressed memories from every object and surface. My mother’s cameo hummed from the crystal dish by the door. I pressed the locket to my heart and fought not to let despair pollute the sweet memories this piece held. I didn’t need superpowers to extricate these. My mother, so lovely, so innocent and young. The kiss of roses on her creamy cheeks. Sparkling emeralds danced in her eyes. This was the loveliness my father fell in love with. I felt the close, warm, home, safety, in his heart for her; a comfortable, familiar room he’d made there especially for her. I reached into the glowing silver with a part of me I’d never known existed before—like a quickened piece of my soul.