Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) (19 page)

             
“I really should go, Em.” But it sounded like that was the last thing he truly wanted to do. I pressed my head to his thundering chest, nuzzled the hollow spot at his throat. Want embroiled me, but I wasn’t ready yet to allow these passions to consume me. “Sabre’s gonna be pissed.”

             
I huffed a small, airy laugh. “When is Sabre not pissed,” I argued.

             
“Good point.” And he stood there, holding me like all the times he wanted to, but his fear held him at bay. Finally, his shoulders drooped with reluctance and he stepped away. “But there’s work to be done before we go up against the Rephaim. He may need some shut-eye, too.”

             
“Fine,” I said and dropped my arms from his neck, playing wounded and scorned.

             
Nick chuckled and pulled me back against his chest. “I’d stay in your arms forever. If I could,” he said. “But there’s business to deal with first. Then, we can run away anywhere, any ‘time’ you desire.”

             
I purred my delight at the thought of sun-kissed South Pacific beaches, and amusement parks that no longer existed except in memories, and black and white photographs.

             
“We could take that trip to Nat Park I told you about,” he said, his voice husky with something other than sleep.

             
I hummed a note of pleasure. “Sounds wonderful.” As I stepped away, I remembered the loving kisses my parents shared with each ‘good-bye.’ But I wasn’t sure his composure could handle it. “Text me when you need me back at Sabre’s, okay? Until then, I’ll deal with Ivy.” Nick started to speak…

             
“Deal with Ivy about what?” came her soft, scratchy, just-woke-up voice from the bedroom door.

             
Nick tossed a memory of Ivy snoring at me as I pulled my hands from his. “About your incessant, obnoxious snoring,” I told her as I poked her in the ribs. I thought about hugging her but it suddenly felt a little weird.
No! Why should hugging my best friend suddenly feel wrong?

             
“I’ll just be going,” Nick said as planted a kiss on my head and headed for the door. “See ya later, Sweets.” He gave Ivy a gallant nod. “Baby.”

             
“See ya,” Ivy and I intoned in unison.
Jinx! You owe me a Coke!
I knew she was thinking it too.

             
Nick evacuated the house, trying to look as human as possible. I distracted Ivy in the bedroom so she wouldn’t notice Nick didn’t drive away in a car.

             
The sky was already dove grey and pink, heralding another early Spring day. Ivy and I cleaned up the house from our slumber party the night before. We talked about the movie, the weather, Jesse—but not the subject that held my heart in a vice.

             
I loved Ivy dearly. I loved her as desperately as I had loved my parents. But it wasn’t the same kind of love I shared with Nick. I wasn’t gay. Plenty of my friends at school had been, and I’d always accepted them without judgment. It just wasn’t who I was. The conflict of what I’d been raised to believe was right, warred with my love for my friend. And how was I supposed to broach this subject with her. The thoughts drew me inward and after the third time of Ivy reeling in my attention, she finally asked, “So what did you mean ‘deal with Ivy’?” And she actually flashed the air-quotes.

             
That snapped me back into the conversation like a whip. I so did not want to have this conversation, but there were things that needed to be said. I took her hand and led her to the couch. We sat facing one another, our knees touching. I held her hand and traced the edge of her fingernails with my thumb—it centered me in the tumult of questions. I puzzled over how to begin, while Ivy scanned my face. Finally, I took in a breath to start.

             
“Baby…” I began, but Ivy cut me off with an upraised hand.

             
“Emari, I’m gay.” Just like that. No pretenses, no lead-ins, just out there, like that.

             
“What?” Dumbfounded, t was all I could muster at the moment.

             
“It’s true, Em. And I need to be honest with you—and myself.” She slid her hand free and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “I’ve known for a while. I just—didn’t know how to tell you.”

             
“Are you sure?” I asked, still not quite convinced. “I mean, you were chasing after Nick’s friend, Sabre at Christmas.”

             
“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life. Boys just don’t do it for me, Em. As for Sabre, well I…” she squirmed, her breath shuttered out and her fingers quaked. “I guess that’s kinda when I decided I needed to face the truth instead of pretending I’m straight. Is that what you were going to ‘deal’ with me about?”

             
“No.” But I’d answered too fast. “Yes. Sort of.”

             
“How did you figure it out?” she asked, her eyes shy and skittering from mine.

             
“You—uh—you kinda talked in your sleep last night.” I couldn’t tell her what I’d really seen. That I’d seen the memory or dream or fantasy that rippled through her sleep. “Ives—why didn’t you just tell me?”
Because I suck at being a best friend.

             
“I just did,” she exclaimed.

             
“No. I mean before now. Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

             
“I was afraid,” she said, still avoiding my eyes.

             
“Afraid of what? That I’d reject you?”

             
“Sort of.” She chanced a quick desperate glance at my face, but turned just as quickly away.

             
“Ivy,” I whispered, hoarse with regret, and took her hand in mine again. “Please look at me.” She turned to face me as though my gaze repelled her, but her eyes still wouldn’t meet mine. “Ives,” I said as I ducked my head to look into her darting eyes. “I love you more than anyone on this planet—yes, including Nick.” That made her smile a little. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you. You know me well enough that I won’t judge you for who you are. We’ve fought the world together since junior high to break out of the mold and be different from every other cookie cutter teenager out there. We’ve fought together to be unique. To be who we are, without caring what other people think. Why would I think less of you for being true to who you are, just because who you are is a lesbian?”

             
Ivy’s eyes snapped to mine, filled with amazement at my cavalier use of the word. Like the word was taboo up until that very moment and she was shocked that it slipped so effortlessly out of my mouth. Like saying it aloud made it more real. I understood that; I refused to speak the words that made my parent’s deaths into reality. “Baby—tell me who you are.”

             
“I’m just me, Sweets. Just me—and I’m gay.”

             
“I’m sorry,” I told her and she looked at me, first puzzled then terrified, like maybe I really wouldn’t love her anymore. So I laced my fingers through hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a good enough friend that you felt safe in telling me that. I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide your real self from me.”

             
“It’s not your fault, Em. It’s not you, it’s me,” she glanced up and we both laughed.

             
“Yeah, where have I heard that one before?” I said, remembering the night she and Jesse brought me home from the hospital after the assault and I’d shied from his touch. “Does Jesse know?”

             
Her eyes darted away from mine. “Sorta,” she said.

             
“Sorta? Jesse knew before I did? How does that work?”

             
“He kinda figured it out—when I told him I wouldn’t go out with him, that he wasn’t my type.”

             
“And where the hell have I been that I didn’t see it?”

             
“You’ve been kinda, well, distracted the last few months. I can’t imagine by what,” she flashed me playful smile. If anyone knew the nightmares I’d lived through over the last year, it was Ivy.

             
“Yeah, I guess I have had my own issues to deal with, haven’t I?” Ivy just nodded understanding. I fell silent, feeling a little shy, like the first time I met her back in seventh grade. Almost like I was meeting the real Ivy for the first time. “Ivy? You know that I…”

             
“Like boys,” she finished for me. “Yeah. I know. And it’s a damn shame too.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “So many broken hearted girls out there.”

             
“Yeah,” I said and poked her in the ribs. “I can just hear all the boys hearts breaking over losing you to the other team.” She stared at me, shocked again but then the anxiety melted from her face and body, and she smiled her dazzling smile. She was grateful I was taking this so easily. How could I not? She was my girl—my Baby, my Ivy.

             
“Hey, listen,” Ivy said a while later after we’d sat on the couch watching more of Deathly Hallows 2. “I need to get going. Closing shift, tonight. I wish you’d come back to work.”

             
“Yeah. Tried that. It’s just not the same without Jess there,” I confessed.

             
“And what am I? Chopped liver?” She feigned offense.

             
“It’s just, the department, the stock room. I can’t even get out of my car near the store doors. I go through the Chili’s entrance now when I go to the mall. Pretty chicken, huh?”

             
“Nah,” she said and gave my arm a consoling rub. “Pretty brave that you can get that close at all.”

             
I drew her into my arms and for the tiniest second felt a little self-conscious about it, but this was my girl, dammit. The same friend she was yesterday. The same friend she was five minutes ago and five years ago. Still Ivy.

             
Thoughts of what lay ahead of me pushed their way to the forefront. What would Ivy do if I was killed by a Wraith tonight?

             
As Ivy pulled on her camo-green pea coat, Eddyson pattered over to say his goodbyes and get his ears and belly scratched. And a horrid thought struck me. Thomas used Eddy the last time. What would keep him from using the puppy against me again? Maybe even killing him this time? An image of Thomas busting into the house and dragging the pup out yelping assaulted my mind. I pushed away from Ivy.

             
“I forgot to tell you, I’m flying to Seattle for a couple of days. Some family-ish thing Adrian wants me to go to. Can you take Eddy back to your place for a couple of days? Please?” I hoped my lie was convincing, and it twisted my heart to do it. But I had to protect them both.

             
Baby picked the pup up and stroked his velveteen ears. “Were you planning on getting him back when you get home?” she threatened playfully.

             
I poked her in the ribs. “I’d have to send my posse after you. And that Sabre is one scary dude.”

             
Ivy laughed. “I think he plays real hard at being a bad ass, but it’s all for show.”

             
If she only knew.

             
We gathered up Eddyson’s supplies and hauled his crate out to her car. I

fought tears as I bundled him into the crate. What if I never saw him again? But it was better that he was safe. Or had I just put both of them in danger? I wondered if I should change my mind. Better just Eddy in danger than both of them.

              “Hey,” she said, “you know I’ll take good care of him.”

             
“I know. It’s just, he’s my teddy-puppy. It’ll be weird to be without him.”

             
“You’ll be back in no time. Go see the butterfly exhibit at the Science Center. That’ll keep you occupied for a while,” she suggested.

             
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”

             
With one final—hopefully not
final
hug—Ivy got in her car and drove away with a chunk of my heart. I hoped I was doing the right thing. That I was sending him to safety and not both of them to slaughter.

Chapter  21 Back in Black

              The sun shown cotton crisp on the sleeping trees and matted grasses as I gazed out the back door of Sabre’s house. The sloping yard dipped down to the banks of Dead Man’s Creek. Nick murmured into his phone, so quiet I couldn’t hear. He snapped the phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket.

             
“You ready?” he asked, his tone deep and succinct.

             
“Sure thing. Back in black, head to toe, at your command.” I flashed him a quick salute.

             
“Okay. Let’s go.” But it sounded more like he wished we didn’t have to.

             
As we passed the long wall of pictures, I glanced at the one I’d seen a few weeks ago, on the day I escaped from the rock star weave. I’d thought it looked like two men hanging on gallows. Sure enough, it was—two people hanging stiff and lifeless from taut, coarse ropes. I snuffled out the memory of dirty burlap from my nose and explored the other pictures that spanned the wall. Each image depicted an actual death scene.
Yeah, not just a little bit creepy.
The classic image of Jesse James at rest in his coffin with a tall mustachioed man looming over his corpse, and Bill Doolin from the Wild Bunch, bare chest riddled with bullet holes, hung alongside post mortem photos of empty-eyed infants dressed in lace and deceased loved ones propped for display in a family portrait.

             
“Whoa! What is up with these?” I asked.

             
“Ha. Yeah. Sabre’s got a bit of a thing for death.”

             
“Ya think. The guy’s a pretty sick puppy.”

             
Nick snorted an unamused laugh. “Come on. We’ve got stuff to do.”

             
With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me out to the garage. There weren’t really expensive sports cars in Nick and Sabre’s garage like the sparkling vamps in Forks, as I had once imagined. Just a Hello Yellow Jeep Cherokee, decked with roll bars and fog lights. I guess when you can phase anywhere you want to go, you don’t really need wheels. They probably kept it around to at least appear human. He guided me in and shut the door behind me.

             
“So—where’re we going?” I asked once he was buckled in.

             
“The Armory,” he said without looking at me. One side of his mouth quirked up in thought. “It’ll be fun,” he amended with a gentle smile, as though he’d changed his mind about being grumpy with me.

             
Last time I checked, an armory was a place that stored weapons. Lots and tons of weapons. “Okey dokey,” I replied.

             
Nick chuckled. “Tunes?” he asked, as he reached for the stereo.

             
“Duh,” I scoffed playfully.

             
His fingers caressed the knobs until strains of Aerosmith flowed from the speakers. We sang along as Nick drove into town. He pulled the car to a stop on a side street off Second Avenue near a familiar building. The old, three-story cinder block structure had a wide welcoming arch, crenellations and glass cube windows in green frames. From a distance, it looked a lot like a fortress or castle.

             
“Laser tag? I thought you said we were going to the Armory,” I said. A few games of laser tag could just be the ticket to work off some pent-up aggression.

             
Nick huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Back in the day, this was Spokane’s National Guard Armory,” he explained. “It hasn’t actually been an armory since ‘78.”

             
“Damn, you’re old,” I teased.

             
Nick flashed me a playful glare. “Woodrow Wilson gave a speech from here one time, but I doubt we could find any memories of it with all the remodeling that’s been done. They held car shows and high school basketball games here too, for a while.”

             
“Well, thank you, Mr. History,” I teased.

             
He grabbed my hand, hauled me down the sidewalk, and through the arched entry. The lobby, that usually teemed with anxious, sweaty combatants, was empty. It felt eerie, just—wrong.

             
“Wait here,” Nick said and parked me by an air hockey table, while he went to the counter to talk to the lone occupant—a tall, skinny man with a scraggly beard and ponytail who looked more like a transient than a proprietor. The two conversed in quiet tones and I could have sworn I saw Nick pull a wad of bills out his pocket for the guy.

             
“So, how long ‘til the last team finishes their mission?” I asked when Nick strolled back to my side.

             
“There isn’t another team. It’s just us.”

             
“Seriously? We have the whole place to ourselves?” I asked, incredulous. He nodded, his eyes gleamed with mystery. “Way cool. No ‘Marshal! Marshal! Marshal! to  spoil our fun and tell us to stop running?” Nick grinned at my enthusiasm. “So, do you guys know the owner or something?”

             
“He’s an old friend,” Nick evaded.

             
I wondered about the cash I thought I saw Nick hand the ‘old friend’ and if all immortals held large reserves of money.

             
“All set,” called the man behind the counter. Nick jerked a nod in his direction and led me up the stairs to the black-light briefing room that was normally packed wall to wall with sweltering black clad bodies with glowing white teeth.

             
“Let me give you some of the moves and tactics before we go in, so you’ll have something to draw on.” The thermae of Nick wrapped around me, body and soul, like radiant heat. Sultry and fierce, the memories of combat moves poured into me, lodged themselves inside me like inborn memories. The ferocious blaze of warfare softened to the heat of his love, and he fitted the contours of his body to mine. His cheek flamed against my skin and he purred a soft groan.

             
“You know, we don’t really need physical contact to do a transfer, anymore,” I teased.

             
“Hmm. Yes. Old habits are hard to break.” But he broke away from me, grasped my hand and drew me to the stairs down to the weapons room.

             
“How did you manage this?” I asked as we trotted down the steps.

             
“Like I said, he’s an old friend. And a little cash always opens the door.”

             
“A little? That was a freakin’ wad you handed that guy,” I protested.

             
Nick just shrugged. “Excellent long term investments,” he explained, forestalling my next question. He lifted a sensor vest over my head and buckled it around me. He smirked and shook his head. “You’re so tiny.” He grazed his fingers down my cheek and the heat sucked the air from my lungs. Nick smiled and turned to put on his own vest. Slapping his laser gun against his hand, his face grew somber. “You’re right. There will be no ‘Marshal’ on this mission. And no one leaves until every Wraith is dead. Sensors have been placed throughout the maze to represent them, and a hologram or two, as well. While we can’t duplicate all of the Wraith’s tactics, most are represented in the program. Random generators shuffle the conflicts, so I don’t even know what we will come up against. You can use any and all of your Caphar abilities to win the campaign.”

             
“Okay. Let’s do this,” I told him.

             
“Not yet. Weapons training.” His fingers lingered on my skin as he spoke and transferred operations of the MP-5 Stealth assault rifle, laser and real, and the 9mm side arm used by police and armies alike. My brain buzzed with the new information. “Ready?”

             
Pursing my lips, I nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

             
His head jerked with a sharp nod. He took my hand and led me into the darkness with swirling lights, graffiti-adorned plywood walls and chain link fence.

             
“We’ll stay together, learn to work as a team. Distance weaves will definitely add to our arsenal…” Nick shouldered his way in front of me and fired his weapon at a bobbing sensor a few feet away. “Stay close to me and keep your eyes open,” he commanded as though my life depended on it.

             
“Dude. Relax. It’s just a game.”

             
A snarl twisted his lips as he turned back to me, grabbed my arm and forced me against the chain link. “This is not a game,” he scolded as a laser found the sensor on his right shoulder. He cast a fierce glare at the blinking lights. Turning back to me, he closed his eyes and drew in a bracing breath. When his eyes reopened the fire in them scorched my heart and his grip singed my arm. “This isn’t set up the same. It’s set up as training.” His voice softened. “And when those lasers hit your sensors, it’s not just flashing lights and vibrations you will feel. These vests are wired to shock.”

             
As if to demonstrate his point, a red dot danced over his shoulder and across my chest. Before we could react, voltage zapped my chest and down my right arm. I cringed and covered myself with my gun.

             
“Ugh! Geez-uz, is that really necessary?”

             
“As close to real life as it gets. What Thomas did to you at Christmas…that’s just a tiny sample of what he’s capable of.” The memory of Thomas’ hands searing into my scalp, his eyes boring into mine, savaging my mind, flooded me with a nauseating fear. “Stay close behind me. I’ll send you the maneuver before each conflict so you’ll know what I need you to do.”

             
A glowing red dot skittered across my head. Nick slammed me against the wall and dispatched the enemy. With thundering steps, we ran up a ramp toward higher ground. Nick took the lead, crab-walking sideways and shot at enemy sensors as we crept around corners. I took the rear and eliminated any that snuck up from behind or threatened from higher vantage points. We battled our way to the crow’s nest that overlooked the entire maze, with minimal damage. I’d taken a shoulder shot, one to the back, and two to the chest. Each wound arced electricity through my body and scrambled my thoughts for a moment. Nick’s sensors flashed only once. Backs pressed to the wall and guns at the ready, we watched the swirling and flashing lights in the black and neon room below us.

             
“Tired?” he asked with a smirk.

             
“A bit.”

             
“We can rest here a minute, but the enemy doesn’t wait. Their lasers can’t reach us here, so it’s the best place to fall back. The ultimate goal is to reach the middle of the maze where the ‘mother brain’ is at.” Nick laughed at my scrunched eyebrows. “She’s the central computer that controls all the skirmishes. If we take her out, it will lessen how long we will have to fight.”

             
A pyrotechnic explosion rumble underneath us. A cloud of billowing smoke rolled into the nest.

             
“Gotta go,” he said.

             
Chaos broke out all around. More pyrotechnics. Lasers sliced through the smoke and cavorted off walls. We were pushed back to the crow’s nest under heavy fire, but shot our way out. Nick led us through the maze, transferring commands silently as we forged our way ahead. My eyes began to burn, like in Sabre’s rock star weave, with the heavy hazer smoke in the air. We were pinned down only once. Once was enough. As we rounded a corner in a dark passageway, lasers flashed at us from every conceivable angle. Nick took the brunt of the hits and growled every time he took a shot meant for me. But we were pinned, and the outcome didn’t look good. I wanted to bale; this was just a game. But the intensity of Nick’s determination dissuaded me. We’d fight to the death.

             
Nick pressed ahead, but the lasers cut me off, and slashed and swirled around me until I was dizzy. Nick turned to look for me just as two lasers converged on me: one to the back, and one to the chest. My knees buckled from the pain, and I crumbled to the ground. Nick hit the floor and army-crawled to my side.

             
“Emari? Are you okay?”

             
I writhed on the ground, struggling for breath like all the air had been shocked from my lungs and they no longer worked at all.

             
“Em! Honey, look at…aaw!” A laser slashed his shoulder and I felt the electrical vibrations all the way down in his fingertips. He grabbed my hand and dragged me to a dark, secluded corner. Sabre’s name spilled from his lips like a curse. “I’ll call an abort.”

             
“Forget that! Let’s go kick some Mother Brain ass.” On shaky legs, I lugged myself to my feet, more determined than ever to win this game that was no longer a game. Win, so I could go back home and smash something hard into Sabre’s stoic face.