Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) (18 page)

It was understood I would stay at least one night. And though I ached to open up to Maggie, to somehow ask her for help, I also looked forward to an evening with these friends with nothing to worry about save how much I would eat. I lived day to day suspended between worlds, loving and hating both. When I spent too much time with one, I craved the other. This place was an escape for me. One where I didn’t have to live in constant division, trying to figure out where I fit. And yet I had chosen not to live there.

The evening was close and raucous, the small pine room crowded with laughter and loud Scottish voices. The voices hushed with sorrow when I gave them the news they hadn’t heard from the village, telling them of Wahyaw’s death. I lightened the mood somewhat by recounting the story of the furious white man they’d adopted in his place, and Maggie shot me an inquiring look. I smiled briefly, as did she, knowing we’d speak more of it when we were just two sisters alone, behind a closed door. But by the time Maggie said it was time to go home, I could barely keep my eyes open.

When he’d built the house, Andrew had constructed two bedrooms as well as the large front room. The second bedroom served as an extra, for anyone visiting. Sleeping in my own room gave me a luxury I had never known: privacy. As a child, I had shared a bedroom with my sisters, now I shared a council house with my Cherokee family. Being so alone was an odd feeling. I curled into the bed, pulling my knees against my chest, listening to the sounds outside my door. It seemed too quiet.

A gentle knock on the door, then Maggie came in. I sat up, and she eased down on to the side of the bed, looking quietly at me.

“You came here for a reason, Addy,” she said softly. “Don’t you think we’ve put it off long enough?”

CHAPTER
27

A Sister’s Connection

So I told her everything, despite the fact that both of us had been drooping from exhaustion five minutes earlier. I told her of Jesse. Of my initial fears and the dreams that had come to me before he ever had. That brought a thoughtful expression to her eyes. I admitted my instinct to flee, then the grudging friendship that had bloomed so rapidly between us. Her eyes glistened as I described him, though my confession shyly listed his faults along with his better points. I laughed, telling her the stories I had found infuriating in the past, like the way he was always so ready to fight the entire Cherokee nation to prove he was right. I told her Wah-Li’s name for him, and comprehension dawned in Maggie’s eyes. It was easy for her to visualize the wild side of him, the curious, up-front, enthusiastic man, the daring cougar with a mind that never stopped and eyes that suspected the world.

She heard more than what I told her: she heard the need she’d once known herself. She felt my pain, then the embrace of relief when I’d realized someone loved me—and I could actually love him back.

“But you’re here now,” she said quietly, settling herself onto the middle of my bed. “Not with him. Why?”

“Because I had a dream. I had the most real vision I’ve ever had, and it scared me to death.”

She sighed, looking sad. “You know you don’t need to be afraid of dreams, Addy. They—”

I stopped her by putting up one hand. I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t need her to look down on me, treat me as if I were a little girl again. I knew what I’d seen; I’d come a long way from when I couldn’t bear to think of the dreams. I couldn’t stop the harsh tone when it burst from my throat.

“Like the dreams
you
had? Are you telling me you weren’t afraid that day? I saw you so many times when the dreams took over your mind, scaring the life out of you. I held you when you could barely breathe. When I had this dream today, it took over. It attacked the secrets I’d hidden away, the ones I’d never wanted to see again. But in this dream, I saw Jesse, and
I saw that day
, Maggie.” I broke down, sobbing. “I felt the men on me, Maggie! I heard them. I remember
everything
.”

Maggie’s expression hadn’t changed, but she blinked and her eyes welled. This was new. Maggie didn’t usually cry. I instinctively wanted to apologize, to change the conversation, to step back into safe territory. But this was why I had come all the way out here. This was why I’d run from the only man I’d ever loved. Because I knew what I’d seen. I wasn’t going to let her tell me not to pay attention.

I sniffed loudly and wiped my eyes with my arm. “But it’s not just that. There was something about the way that nightmare happened in the midst of another violent dream. There was another enemy, and Jesse was . . . Well, that’s why I’ve come. I need help, and I need the help that only you can give me.”

Her expression was tired, her eyes liquid with regret.

“But you can’t, can you?” I asked.

I saw the battle going on behind those deep eyes of hers and felt horrible. I had no right to ask her for this. “It’s okay, Maggie,” I said. “I’m okay. I just wanted to talk with you and see—”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I don’t know if I can help, though. I’m still so . . .” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, then let them fall. I could see her exhaustion, feel the weight of it just as she tried to cast it off.

“Are you sure?”

We stared at each other for what felt like a long time. Then she made up her mind and scrambled forward so she sat beside me on the bed, and we leaned back against the cool pine wall. She sighed.

“What do you think, Addy? How do you want to do this?”

I closed my eyes, fighting the panic that was starting to eat its way into my mind. “I want to try and bring that dream back. I want to show you Jesse, and I want to understand what I saw today. Like what we do with Wah-Li, you know? If you see the same thing, maybe you can tell me what it means. What I should do.”

Trying to see each other’s dreams was something entirely new for both of us, but she nodded, ready to try. She closed her eyes in a deliberate manner, her mouth straight and inexpressive, the muscles in her face relaxed. Her hands lay at her sides, palms up, and I seized the one between us. Our fingers intertwined, and I closed my eyes, feeling the pull of her powers—though they were shadows of their former strength—and gratefully sank into whatever she could offer.

I had done this—purposefully recalling my dreams—twice before: once with Wah-Li, once on my own. But I knew Maggie—or at least the Maggie who hadn’t been pregnant—had powers that could outshine even the wise woman of the Cherokee. I took a deep breath, prayed for strength, then dove into memories of my dream, bolstered by her support and by the knowledge that I was safe with her. Our connection, strong as an ancient oak, was solid and held us together. We stood side by side, more one person than two, inside the dream I conjured.

The vision returned, the forest shadowed, sucked of air by the witnessing trees. Jesse lay bleeding and motionless. Then the face so much like his, aged and tinged with gray, his hands on me . . .

Maggie tugged on me—not my hand or arm or body, but my heart. She sensed the threat and wanted to be away, to escape what I had warned her about. But I held her, forced her to stay. I needed to know—was what I saw real? If I could hold on to her, use her as an anchor, could I stay in the dream until its completion? Had Jesse and the Cherokee given me enough courage?

On the other hand, if her perception of the dream changed from mine, maybe it had all been a mistake. I had never been able to control my dreams before. Maybe this had just been one of those times when I’d misinterpreted. God, I hoped it was.

But the man’s hands on my throat were thick, calloused, and tightening. His teeth, yellowed over time but straight and bared. Words hissed through them, words I couldn’t hear but understood regardless. His eyes burned cold, gray metallic flames fueled by hate and lust. But that mouth was so familiar, the lips I had kissed . . .

Stars flew in my head, and the earth beneath my feet dropped, melting into a black, bottomless pit. I couldn’t grab on to anything and couldn’t find Maggie. Thomas Black wasn’t alone anymore. The others were back, those men I’d thought gone forever. I was choking, my defences draining. When I could see no more, I could still feel hands on my tunic, the fingers demanding, rabid. I tried to wriggle free, but the hands only fought me harder. I screamed—

The door slammed open, and Andrew was there, deep brown eyes wide with concern. “What is it?” he demanded. “Are ye all right?”

Maggie had screamed, too. Our voices lingered like ghosts within the fragrant pine walls. Andrew waited for an answer, but I couldn’t speak. I was not all right, but I was alive and unharmed. And once again, I’d escaped the dream before it ended. Maggie held me while I shook. I felt her own small gasps, felt her tears and sweat, warm on my cheek.

“There is a man coming,” she said to Andrew over my shoulder, then swallowed. Her tone, though interrupted by tiny sobs, was smooth and ethereal, as it was so often when she saw visions. She sounded as if she were still halfway in the dream world. I couldn’t see Andrew’s expression, but I knew he would believe every word she said. “He is coming for Addy. He must be stopped. He
must
be. You will know him, Andrew. He will seek her with a passion you cannot douse. He will hunt her through the eyes of a killer.”

With her cheek pressed against mine, I felt her summon Thomas’s image in her mind, felt her reach out to Andrew. His thoughts reached toward her, taking the offering, reassuring and promising all in one breath. It was a strange and beautiful experience, being included in their intimate exchange.

“Where is the devil?” he asked, his voice husky.

She shook her head. She didn’t know. “The forest. Soon. A day? Two?”

My eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Now I knew. She’d seen it just as I had, and it had frightened her. She’d seen the connection between the dreams. It was real.

PART
4

Jesse

CHAPTER
28

Another Protector

Shouldn’t have left her. Godammit. Jesse pounded his fist against the council house wall with frustration. He would never,
ever
understand women. There he was, thinking he’d finally pulled it all together, had even told the girl he loved her.

And he
did
love her. He did. Scared him how much he loved her. It was a foreign, terrifying feeling, knowing she was what he needed to complete who he was. He even felt slightly lost now that she was out of his reach. Bit by bit, little Adelaide the Mouse had become the most important thing in his world. Having her in his arms had felt like the first bite of fresh bread, the river on that scorching day with Soquili, the sight of a purple sunrise when the last of the clouds faded away. She had been soft and warm in his hands and had tasted like berries, her lips welcoming and giggling under his.

Then it had stopped. She had sat up, stared at him as if he were a ghost, and run off. To make matters worse, she hadn’t come back like she’d said she would. She should have been back for supper, should have been there in the evening for him to share a fire with. She should have come back and let him kiss her again, let her soothe whatever crazy fears had taken over this time. She was a funny little thing, his mouse. And she needed him.

But she hadn’t come back. Not that night, not the next morning. Jesse had stomped around the village, questioning everyone. No one had seen her. And no one really worried, because, well, these were Cherokee, and they damn well did what they damn well pleased, didn’t they? How was a man supposed to get any answers? Kokila was normally the one he’d go to, or Soquili, or even Soquili’s mother, Salali. But they all just shrugged.

Ironically, it wasn’t until he bumped into the little weasel, Dustu, that he finally got an answer. He’d been walking past, trying to ignore the bastard’s slimy grin, when the man laughed, pointing at him.

“Shadow Girl leave you, white boy,” he said, grinning through a chipped tooth. Jesse always claimed to have broken that tooth, but he wasn’t actually sure if that was the truth. He didn’t recall much about the man’s appearance before that first fight had broken out.

Jesse glared at him, fists clenched. “You know nothing, weasel face.”

“I do know. Girl gone, white boy
soooo
sad.” His smile drooped into a cynical frown. “Poor, poor white boy.”

“You should stop talking before I
make
you stop talking.”

Dustu’s grin was immediate. He cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers in preparation. “You ready?”

Jesse wasn’t in the mood for a fight. Actually, he was, but he didn’t have time for one. And he didn’t have time to recover from one, either. He wanted to find Adelaide, and his sense of urgency was building. Where could the girl have disappeared to? Dustu waited a few feet away, hopping on the balls of his feet like a dog on a tether, raring to go. Jesse leaned in and peered closely at the warrior’s face, startling Dustu, who backed up a step. Jesse stayed close. He poked Dustu’s cheek, looking impressed, then teased him in Tsalagi.

“No bruises? What’s happening, Dustu? You keep pretty for a girl?”

Dustu’s joy disintegrated. “I’m not pretty.”

“Truth,” Jesse agreed. “Adelaide say Gauri thinks you pretty. I say she wrong.”

Dustu frowned, looking unsure. “Gauri . . . Gauri say this?”

“Yes,” Jesse replied with a scowl. “Woman has bad taste.”

The fight evaporated from Dustu’s face. He frowned, stroking the sharp line of his jaw while he considered the possible implications of this. “She say—”

“That’s all I know,” Jesse assured him, turning to go. “I must find Adelaide.”

He got about ten paces away before Dustu spoke up. “She is at sister’s. She always goes to Maggie when she needs to know something.”

Jesse wheeled around. “You sure?”

“Nah. But I think maybe.” In a rare moment of charity, Dustu gave him instructions on how to get to Maggie and Andrew’s place, and the men went their separate ways.

Her sister, Maggie. Now this was interesting. More insight into Adelaide. What did he remember her saying about Maggie? Trying to remember gave Jesse more to think about on the journey. Dustu had drawn him a map in the dirt, and Jesse’d used that to come up with a shorter route, though he knew there’d probably be some bushwhacking to be done. He knew the first half. They did a lot of hunting up this way. He remembered the major fork in the trail. The right fork led toward the path Dustu had drawn for him. The other led to New Windsor and the home of Thomas Black.

In the beginning, Jesse had been tempted to take that fork, disappear into the trees when he was out hunting with the men. Occasionally the Cherokee had forgotten about him, caught up as they were in the hunt. Then Jesse’d reconsidered. If they could catch deer so easily, how simple would it be for them to track a full-grown human who wasn’t nearly as quiet? But still, it was comforting knowing the path was there, an option if he got desperate.

He didn’t care what the Cherokee thought of him. Not at all. Except maybe Ahtlee. That old guy had a way of making Jesse feel good, with a regal nod of his head. And maybe his wife, Salali, whose twinkling eyes were filled to their black brims with patience. Soquili had ended up being a pretty good friend after all. Nechama was sweet and patient. Of course, Kokila was a good friend to Adelaide, so he approved of her as well . . .

As usual, he went left, then eventually swerved off a bit, aiming for the landmarks Dustu had given him. He cut through the woods a little carelessly, slipping on rocks but catching himself in time, the dirt map clear in his mind. He ran when he could, wanting to make up for lost time, which is what he called the time between when he’d last seen her and that particular moment. All of a sudden, nothing on earth seemed as important as finding Adelaide.

He was going to get her to explain everything. Then he was going to make her marry him. How could she not? He knew she loved him. Nobody could kiss like that if they weren’t in love, could they? He grabbed the edge of a waist-high shelf of granite, hopped up and over. All right. His little mouse had gotten spooked. That much was clear. She had to get over some memories—whatever they were—and he was determined to help her with that. The latest declaration about Thomas Black had come out of nowhere, but he’d figure that out once he had her back in his arms.

Jesse’s mind held pictures as tight as a snare holds a rabbit. He saw the map Dustu had drawn, and despite the fact that he strayed to try and save time, he kept to the general directions and arrived safely at the little piece of land that had been claimed by Maggie and the others over a year before. He knew it by the number of houses, the first cluster he’d seen since leaving the village, though he’d seen quite a few singular homes along the way, all in different states of upkeep.

He stepped out of the trees and gazed down at the peaceful scene before him. A flock of chickens bobbed at the side of the house, and Jesse licked his lips in anticipation. What he would give for a couple of eggs right about now. And a bed, maybe. He was damn tired. It had been a long journey, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t actually think his shortcuts had helped much. He’d stumbled off a few sharp edges, twisted an ankle on a stubborn root when he wasn’t paying attention. He was cold, too. At least the rain had spent itself the night before.

Adelaide had said these folks were Scottish, and Jesse knew from years back that Scottish people pretty much always opened their homes to visitors. Jesse could practically taste the supper, feel the warm hearth fire that crackled under the stone chimney, see Adelaide’s welcoming smile.

At least he
hoped
she’d smile when she saw him. Forgive him for whatever he’d done to set her off.

It was close to dusk, after a long day, the last offering of warmth pulling away as the sun retreated. A rooster mistook night for day and crowed, but he was entirely ignored by the few horses feeding beyond the barn, and the cow as well. A fine domestic scene. Where would Adelaide be? In the house? Or maybe in the stable? He knew she wasn’t overly fond of horses, but he also knew she wasn’t afraid to work with them. Maybe she was cooking with her sister. He’d like to meet that sister. She sounded interesting. What would she look like? Adelaide had said she was dark-haired, not blond like they were. Jesse shivered and headed down the little slope, hoping for a warm welcome and a bit of supper. Sure would sit well just about now.

“Hold, stranger,” he heard.

Jesse froze. He held his hands out at his sides, palms open, clearly offering no threat. “Hey, I’m not here for trouble,” he said.

“No? What for, then? What business would ye have here?” Jesse recognized a Scottish brogue, like the ancient trader McCulloch who’d run the trading post near his old home. Short, squat, and dark, with glowering eyes that didn’t take nonsense from anyone. And ugly. That man had been memorably ugly. He wondered if this voice belonged to someone similar. He glanced to his side, toward the source.

No, this was nothing like McCulloch. The speaker was about the same height and age as Jesse, but his body was more solid. His hair fell in dark waves, almost as black as Cherokee hair, sweeping the tops of his shoulders. Dark eyes—again, almost black—forbade even the suggestion of light conversation. Even the rest of his face was dark, shadowed by a short beard Jesse judged to be maybe three days old.

“I’m looking for a friend. I heard she might be visiting here.”

“Is that right, then?” The Scot crossed his arms over his chest. “Who is it ye seek?”

“Adelaide’s her name. You know her?”

A moment’s hesitation, then the dark man’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. A touch more aggression edged into the stone-cold voice. “No one here by that name. Ye might as well head back to where’er it is ye came from.”

Jesse frowned. That didn’t seem right. He was sure this was the place. He mirrored the man, folding his own arms. The Scotsman had seemed just a bit too quick to answer. As if he’d been prepared. Was Adelaide here? Had she told this man they’d had a disagreement or something? Because if she had, well, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Hell, he deserved the opportunity to speak with her, get all this out into the air. She’d kissed him back, dammit.

Then something in his chest tightened. Was she hurt? In danger? What if this bastard had done something?

“I think she
is
here,” Jesse said, meeting the stranger’s eyes.

“An’ I said she’s no’.”

Jesse nodded. So that’s the way it would be. “Listen. I don’t want any trouble. But I have to see Adelaide. I need to talk with her, and I need to bring her back to the village with me. I don’t know what she told you, but—”

The fist came out of nowhere, slamming into Jesse’s jaw and knocking him flat on his back. Solid rock, that fist. Jesse stayed down for a moment, blinking back the wetness that sprang to his eyes, spitting a shot of blood to the side. He frowned up at the man, sizing him up in a completely different way now. So the man could fight and was obviously well equipped.

Well, that was just fine. Nobody was gonna tell Jesse if he could or could not see Adelaide. He slid his jaw from one side to the other and back again. It seemed to still be working fine.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he told the man.

The dark eyes glared down a straight nose, nostrils flared as if he scented the air. Jesse felt the slightest twinge of apprehension. The eyes of a wolf glared at him, the gaze of a man he maybe shouldn’t cross. But it was too late for that. He had come for Adelaide, and this man was blocking his way.

“Ye shouldna have come.”

Jesse got his feet under him and stood slowly, lifting his own fists in readiness, but the Scotsman was ready. A quick shot to Jesse’s gut that bent him in half, then one to the other side of his face. Stars danced in his vision like sunlit dust motes, and he staggered back, hating his inability to get the upper hand on this fellow. He backed away, still hunched over and breathing hard, watching the man’s feet as he got out of the way of those quick hands. The leather shoes of the Scotsman never moved. So the man was waiting, not pursuing. Defending his property.

“I ain’t here to cause trouble, like I said.”

“Turn around an’ go back,” he was advised.

“Can’t do that,” Jesse grunted, straightening and wiping sweat from his eyes. “Can’t leave without Adelaide.”

The man’s feet moved then, but Jesse stood straight and braced himself, determined to win this round. The punch came, but he’d expected it. He blocked it, pushing it to the side and opening the other man’s body for his own attack. It felt good, pounding his fist into the wall of his opponent’s stomach, proving he was more than a punching bag. But this was no inexperienced, wild young warrior from the village. This was a man hardened out of necessity. Jesse’d seen that in the unflinching set of his eyes. The Scotsman grunted from the impact but barely winced, ready for the next and the next.

Why was this happening? What had set this stranger against him in such a determined manner? Why did it seem he’d rather kill Jesse than let him past? She couldn’t have told him something terrible about Jesse, could she? No. Not Adelaide. He knew her too well. She had opened up to him, let him into her secret, tortured world, and sought solace in his arms. She wasn’t afraid of him. She needed him, and she knew it. So why the armed guard?