“I understand.” I said. “But, I’m not ready.”
I returned to my quarters emotionally torn. I understood the implications of what she was trying to say. If the members of my own Coven however, had not been able to get past for all this time the question of whose I was, I couldn’t see where the how part of the equation was going to matter. So many had salivated, and gossiped over me for so long, I almost believed that when the information finally did come out, it was going to be disappointing to them not to have it to talk about anymore.
On the one hand, it would actually be nice not to be the subject of conversation. On another, even once they knew, I sincerely doubted that it would remove the ‘bastard’ label from their lips when they referred to me. It’s not like once they knew it was going to change anything. I would still be the product of an unmated union. And, it wasn’t like Tybor was suddenly going to jump up, acknowledge me as his own, take my mother for his mate, and somehow legitimize anything. Truth was truth.
Chapter 8
I found myself somewhere adrift in the dreamscape. I had not actually intended to fall asleep, or dreamwalk. I vaguely remembered sitting down, mentally exhausted, but still wrestling with my thoughts, and the emotional dilemma of Chantelier’s assertions. For the first time that I could recall, I was startled, but did not wake up.
I found myself staring, knowing that my jaw had dropped and my mouth hung open. What I was seeing, was unbelievable. Without trying, I had found Nova. That, in and of itself, was not the shocking part. Yes, I had found Nova, but she was with me. I assessed myself for several moments. Blinking rapidly, each time my eyes reopened, the vision was the same. In the spot where I had first encountered her with the red-headed woman called Destiny, I saw her now, but with me in the red head’s place.
I knew with certainty that I was in her dream, not my own. I would save for later the notion that I could somehow dreamwalk through my own dream with her. The implications, to my thinking, were impossible.
Stunned didn’t begin to encompass the sensation, and I must have gasped. Normally, I was so careful about making sounds of any kind when I was dreamwalking. This dream however, had caught me so off guard, I had not stopped to think twice. Yes, I must have gasped. And, she must have heard me. I watched as she slowly withdrew from the tangle of limbs between us, and turned.
“I hoped you would come.” She said before completing her turn to full around where she sat awkwardly.
I bit down on the tip of my tongue, trading it for my bottom lip as her face finally came into view. Her eyes were lavender with the longest lashes I’ve ever seen, and her lips were full. Full, and a deep russet color that was the perfect complement to her copper skin. She was exquisite.
The version of me that was in her dream behind her, was oblivious to my presence. I was stunned stupid. If I was supposed to respond, I had no idea what I should say. I was honored, and flattered, and more than a little blown away. I realized absently that somehow she had seen me the first time. The version of me that she had conjured for her dream was not exactly correct, but it was close enough that there was little doubt she had noticed my appearance.
“How…” I stammered.
She smiled back broadly. “Is this okay?”
I was vaguely aware that I was shaking my head, but I was still stuck on my one syllable question. “How?”
Her laugh was soft and lyrical. She turned slightly, and pointed to a polished silver lamp base. “I saw your reflection.”
I didn’t remember seeing the lamp or the lamp base before, not that it mattered now. “But you didn’t say anything.” I muttered before I could stop the words from coming out.
“I didn’t need to, until you went to leave.” She grimaced.
“But…”
“No buts.” She answered as she unfolded herself from her position.
My heart was nearly racing out of my chest as I watched her walk toward me, or the version of me that had entered her dream, I mean…the second me. The first me that was already in the dream when I arrived, was static in the position where she had left it behind. Dreams were so freaking peculiar. I knew that every person inside a dream acted and reacted at the will of the dreamer. That I was the person in her dream demonstrated the lesson in a way that I doubt many dreamwalkers ever experienced.
“My name is Nova.” She said, standing a scant foot in front of me.
“I know.”
She laughed. “And you are?”
I shook my head violently back and forth. It was surreal. “My name is Seychelle.”
“Seychelle,” she tested. “I like it.” She glanced back at the version of me she had conjured in her dream. “I suppose it’s a good thing to know your name if I’m having my way with you in my dreams.”
“You know that you’re dreaming?” I asked abruptly. I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.
“Of course. Since we’ve never met, what else could it be?”
“Wait… You’re having your way with me in your dreams?” I stammered out once I finally processed her earlier comment.
The laughter I had heard the first time, that had pulled me from the precipice of leaving dreamscape, echoed around the room. “Oh yes. Quite often in fact. I kept hoping that by conjuring you, you might come back.”
I swallowed hard to keep my mouth from dropping open. I knew my eyes were wide, but I couldn’t force them to blink. I watched her smile grow with my lengthening silence. I knew I needed to say something, but what do you say to that? Thank you?
It felt like a year before I could find my voice to respond. “You did?” I squeaked.
Her voice was a lower timbre when she answered. “I did.”
The spell was fractured when she reached up to caress my face. Being a dreamwalker, I only had an ethereal form, not a physical one here. Her brilliant smile faltered as her fingers drifted through the wisp of where my face appeared to be. I could have wept at the loss.
She retreated a small step, and looked me up and down. Whatever she found in her evaluation, her smile returned. “You’re a dreamwalker, aren’t you?”
I’m sure my shock showed. “You know?”
“What else could you possibly be?” She answered with a question. “Too bad for me. Dreams are lovely things, but I think I would rather touch you for real.”
I noted absently that the version of me she had conjured for her dream had morphed. Having had the opportunity to inspect me more closely, the vague resemblance was now unmistakable. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, or what she had said. “Too bad for me as well. I think I would like that very much.” I admitted, blushing.
She glanced back and forth between dreamwalker me, and the version of me from her dream. When her focus returned to ethereal me, I nearly shattered on the spot at her request. “Can you undress for me? I want to make sure I have you exactly right. Then, I can show you how I would touch you if you were really here.”
Chapter 9
I was convulsing, splintering apart just from watching Nova, pulled abruptly from the dream, just as my left behind physical form caught up to the reactions of her dream version of me. I was angry at the sudden loss. Someone was pounding intently on my door. It took several moments for my brain to catch up to reality.
“What?!” I screamed.
“It’s time to leave.” My mother shouted back. “Actually, we’re late already.” She admonished.
I knew by her tone that there was no conversation to be had on the subject. She was ready to leave whether I was or was not. I glanced at the clock. We weren’t actually late, but we would be soon if we didn’t get moving. Knowing my mother, she was more concerned over the backlash if she and her ‘bastard’ held anyone else up. More likely, someone else was going to be just as late, or later. It wouldn’t matter. “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.” I called.
I stopped short of adding, ‘this way they will only be concerned about me, not you, just the way you like it.’ Even if it w
ere true, there was no point in saying so. We both knew how she felt, verbalizing it changed nothing.
I raced to get myself together. Unlike the last enclave, this time we were traveling to another county. If everyone were coming here, we would have been in preparations for the last six months, instead of the last one getting ready to leave. I threw the few things that I thought I would need into my satchel. What I took was significantly less important to me than getting cleaned up just now.
As I looked myself over in the reflecting glass, I was shocked all over again. My cheeks were flush, as was the rest of my body. More notable, were the scratch and bite marks that dotted my skin. I whimpered at the sight. Surely they must be an illusion. Stepping back into better light, I glanced down, turning back and forth to get a direct look. They were definitely not illusions.
As I touched several of the markings, my breath caught. I had been so wrapped up in watching her and the dream version of me, that it never occurred to me there could be any kind of transfer. It actually went against everything I thought I understood about dreamwalking. As my hands grazed over the different places though, I felt needy all over again as I remembered the sensations.
I didn’t have time for this. I grieved the loss all over again. I had to consciously decide to walk away and explore it later. I jumped into the shower after turning the cold on full and leaving the hot off. I needed to douse this want, and extinguish any of the lingering effects quickly. It wasn’t that anyone was going to get to see the markings, but I needed the residual desire to go away so I could think clearly.
I wasn’t the last to arrive, not that it made any difference, as expected. The sideways glances and sneers were present, just as they always were. Once I knew that my mother was aware I had arrived, and that I wasn’t the last one holding everyone up, I stayed to the back of the group and awaited our departure. When Chantelier gave the word, we left.
The enclave was a mass of bodies when we finally arrived. Nothing formal had started yet, and everyone was milling around greeting one another. It was yet another opportunity for me to blend into the background as I had only met a few people at events past that I cared to reconnect with, and I didn’t see any of them around. The host Coven had done a nice job. Everything was welcoming and festive.
I knew that this gathering was planned specifically to happen near the Summer Solstice, however I had forgotten that the solstice was upon us until I saw the decor. My heart began to race as I realized that there would be dancing with Murphy bells around a giant bonfire, likely both nights. I hadn’t stopped to check myself again after I emerged from the shower. I had dried, dressed, and run. Panic set in as the pieces clicked. If the marks lingered, they would soon be visible for everyone at the enclave. I didn’t know what to do.
As if I wasn’t already having a meltdown, announcements were starting. The High Priestesses of the participating Covens were being called to come together. It signaled the beginning of the enclave, at least the formal portions. I was swimming in perspiration. From the point that the enclave began, until the bonfire was built and everyone disrobed, was only a small window. I needed a place to be able to inspect myself. There was no way I could participate if any of the marks remained. I had to know if they were there.
I was doing my best not to draw attention to myself as I drifted toward the edge of the gathering. Perhaps I could find a small secluded place to give myself a once over. Just before I could duck beyond the perimeter and go look, I froze. The High Priestess from the host Coven was addressing the gathering. “Merry Meet.”
I knew before I turned who I would see. The denial I was instantly reaching for, was having none of my game. My mind said it couldn’t be, even as I knew it was. The voice had imprinted on me what seemed now like ages ago, when she said, “You can stay.”
I was instantly overheated. I knew my skin beneath my robes was flush too. I was willing to wager that every scratch, bite, and suckle mark was also newly vivid as well. I didn’t need to look. I knew. I would have to find a way to make my escape before long, but I couldn’t without confirming it was her with my own open eyes. I turned. Standing at the center of the gathering, with Chantelier and others beside her, was Nova.
She was every bit as exquisite as I thought her to be from her dream, and more. Her lavender eyes danced with the light from the torches. Her dark locks were intricately woven and piled upon her head. Even from the distance, now that her hair wasn’t a cascade down her back, I could see clearly the High Priestess’ mark on her neck, next to the one that signified her Coven, the Kepfir. The simple sheath she wore did nothing to hide her feminine form, and only served to accentuate the richness of her skin. I was captivated all over again.
I cursed my situation. I wanted desperately to meet her in the waking world. Unfortunately, the urge was equally strong to make my escape before anyone could notice. As with so many things in my life when they were at odds, the two wants clashed, and the winner would put me, once again, in a difficult position. The decision was made without me getting to cast a vote. I watched for just a moment too long.
As if I had somehow set off a beacon, I noticed the moment her gaze landed on me. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before they flew wide. I knew Nova was aware of my presence. There would be no way for me to escape now. And, if I was being honest with myself, seeing her, I didn’t really want to escape anyway. I only wanted to avoid the questions and potential spotlight that would be cast upon me when others saw the marks on my skin. I could feel them staring already.
Chapter 10
To her credit, Nova’s gaze did not linger inappropriately long once she noticed me. I myself couldn’t tear my eyes off of her. Though initially I had encountered her in a dream, I knew she was absolutely real somewhere. It never occurred to me that we would ever be in anything that resembled proximity. Then again, that’s the thing about the dreamscape, you never know where in the world you are, because you aren’t.
So many things clicked rapidly into place. The question of my subconscious mind that had not come forward to be asked and answered yet, was easy now. How did she know I was a dreamwalker? Simple, she was a witch just like I was. She would have knowledge, and an understanding of what I was, where a normal person I could have encountered in the dreamscape, would not. The marks on my skin, even though in ethereal form she had not touched me directly, made sense now too. I was willing to wager that she knew how to do a great many things that I had never seen or experienced before.
When the greetings concluded, the crowd broke off into smaller groups for different activities. Because I had chosen not to reveal myself as a dreamwalker, I should have been seeking the group out that was going to exchange ideas and methods for scrying. Somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to get there. Not that I needed anything else to be worrying about, but it occurred to me belatedly that Nova knew my talent. It was quite possible, that short of being able to intercept her from revealing it, everything was going to come out now. Chantelier’s comments raced forward. Of course, she would be right.
I had the sudden, violent urge to be sick. Overwhelmed, and feeling nauseous, I slipped from the group and went to find a place that I could be alone. There were too many things all happening at once and I couldn’t find level. I sat down and dug my fingers into the soil. If nothing else, I needed to ground and try to release the tension and surplus energy. I was so distracted that I didn’t pause to cast a circle or call the Quarters. I was sincerely hoping that anyone who came upon me would recognize the situation and turn away.
Unable to calm, I didn’t manage to release even half of the pent, stormy energy. The only alternative I could come up with, was that I needed to leave. I rose to stand, straightened my robes, and brushed off my fingers. Belatedly, I realized I had been sobbing, and wiped what I could away with the backs of my hands. I would need to make my excuses to my mother, and to Chantelier before I left. I turned to search them out, and came chest to chest with Nova.
“Why
are you out here by yourself?” She asked after taking a small step backwards to give me space. When she noticed my face, she added, “What’s wrong?”
My shoulders fell as I deflated. “I can’t stay.”
“Why ever not?”
I gave her a weak smile. “The story would take too long to share.”
“Tell me anyway.” She directed softly.
“Nova…” I pleaded.
“I do like hearing you say my name in person.” She hummed softly. “And,” she brushed gently at the tear tracks on my cheeks. “I would be untruthful to say I am in any way displeased to see you here.”
“But I can’t…”
Her hand slid down, all of her fingers except one folding in as she placed the last one over my lips. “Shhh… You can. Tell me why it is you think you shouldn’t.”
I couldn’t help myself. Whether it was because it was her, because she was compelling me, or just the way she was asking, I felt like I owed her an explanation. “Because everyone will know.”
Her head canted sideways as she considered my less than thorough response. “Everyone will know what?” She asked.
“Nova…no one else knows that I am a dreamwalker. All anyone from my Coven knows, or seems to care about, is that I am a bastard.” I stared at the ground as I dropped the truth softly, even as I wanted to spit the word out.
“Do you care that you are I bastard?”
Her question startled me. “No. I only care that they can’t see me because of it.” I admitted my pride.
Her hand cupped my chin, pulling my face up. When I kept my eyes downcast, she waited until I looked up and faced her. “Why do you believe that you staying here would reveal that?” She inquired with confusion lacing her voice.
“The bonfire…” I lamented, as if that should explain everything.
She chuckled softly. “And…”
I felt my body flush from my feet up to my hair in embarrassment to have to explain what I thought she knew. “My skin would bear witness to our earlier exchange. To explain how the marks came to be, would reveal what I am, and thus who sired me.” I explained, trying not to be crass.
Immortal Deflagration Page 3
