Dark Weaver (Weaver Series)

by Dena Nicotra

  “No, I’m the lucky one. How many girls would rescue their guy from the grave? I’m so proud of your strength Jo, and I know you are scared right now, but I promise you, we’ll get through this together.”

  …How many girls would rescue their guy from the grave? I found myself completely distracted by that question. As Kalan continued talking, I looked away toward the window and another memory slapped me so hard I had to fist the blankets in my palms to keep my composure. It wasn’t an actual memory, it was a nightmare…and Kalan was in it. He was so loud and he was right in my face. Demanding, insisting, and he just kept shouting the same thing over and over, “Tell me!” It’s strange the way dreams can shift because the only other thing that I could remember was me having dinner at a really nice restaurant with Kessler.

  I pushed the thought of that dream away and tried to focus on what Kalan was saying. Dear God, no wonder I was feeling so distant from him. My dreams were not just consuming my subconscious; they were absolutely making me batty! If I was disappearing, I was probably pulling some sort of amateur weaving stunt. I wouldn’t be surprised if we learned I was doing the supernatural equivalent to sleep walking! I mean, it hadn’t taken more than me having a brief thought about the beach that night to pull Kessler with me. Oh, hell no. I wasn’t going to think about that right now. Just wasn’t going to happen. I snapped my head back to the moment and focused on my man.

  “So, what do we do now? You said last night that you thought you knew where we should start.”

  “I think it’s time that we went home.”

  “I miss my family Kalan, but I don’t see how going back to Dempsey is going to help me right now.”

  “I don’t mean Arkansas Jo, I mean…my home.”

  I stared up at him blankly. I knew what he meant, but I didn’t understand.

  “Jo, the only way to get some help with what is happening to you is to seek the counsel of the Centenium Elders, and that means going to Era. I shook my head and tried to grasp what he was saying.

  “The who-what?” I asked.

  “The Centenium Elders, they are the keepers of law for us. Each member is selected by the community to provide wisdom and judgment on matters concerning weavers. It’s all political stuff mostly, but they are really knowledgeable and I know they can help us figure out what’s wrong with you.”

  “I thought that I couldn’t go there because I wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t you tell me that?”

  “I did, but I’ve been working on that for some time now, and I’ve found a way,” he said firmly.

  “I don’t know Kalan; you said that returning through time to Era can be extremely dangerous.”

  “I told you that without the proper training, you would arrive as a pile of dust because the span of time is just too vast for an inexperienced weaver.”

  “Okay, that’s just terrifying Kalan. I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” I went to get up from the bed, but he tugged me back.

  “Joey, Joey, Joey, don’t you know that I would never risk your safety? You are the master weaver after all, and what would I do if anything happened to you? I’d never risk that. You have to trust me when I tell you that I have worked this all out. I promise, you will be safe,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile.

  I knew that Kalan had not been home since his mother passed, and he’d shared with me on more than one occasion that he longed for home. His lengthy absence was strictly for my benefit. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I swallowed hard to fight back the lump in my throat.

  “You did that for me?”

  “I’ve been working on a way for longer than you know. I just didn’t want to scare you. I would do anything for you Joey. I’d die for you, but you know that already.” He winked and reached out to brush away a tear that had rolled down my cheek.

  “Okay, it must be bad then. I mean – you said that I wasn’t ready and that it would take time to season my skills.”

  “I did, but that was…before you started disappearing.”

  I could feel the color draining from my face and my heart felt like it would pound its way right out of my chest. I was weaving in my sleep! As much as it terrified me to ask, I had to know. “How many times has it happened?”

  “I don’t want you to worry about that.”

  “I need to know Kalan.”

  It’s been happening sporadically over the past few months. At first, it was just for a few minutes, but then you started weaving out in your sleep. You don’t know how many times I’ve watched over you while you sleep. Remember when we were at our spot? That was the last time, and you were gone for three days,” he said woefully.

  “Three days?” I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “How could I not know that, and how could I not remember where I was?” My voice was shrill and laced with panic. I pressed my fingers to my temples and rubbed in little circles. Instantly an image from a dream flashed in my mind of Kess with his finger to his lips, that silent gesture to be quiet. Kalan tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I hesitated before answering, “I don’t know. It’s like…it’s like I’m about to remember something, but then it slips away from me entirely. Oh this is bad isn’t it?” I groaned. Just thinking about the fact that I was popping in and out of time made me sick to my stomach, and trying to grab hold of elusive memories was scary as hell.

  “We will leave tonight. Please just try not to worry about anything else. I’ve made all of the arrangements and you will be fine. We have an appointment with Torvin, the council leader as soon as we arrive and I need you to be prepared.”

  I sat my coffee cup on the nightstand and drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. Glancing out the window, I noticed that the rain was coming down even harder. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t an indication of ominous things to come. “Prepared for what?” I asked.

  He ran his hands through his hair and began to pace in front of the window as he spoke. “Jo, in Era weavers are expected to adhere to certain protocols, and because we are approaching them directly for guidance, they will expect a certain level of etiquette.” For example, blocking your thoughts with them is considered the ultimate form of rudeness. You need to keep your mind open to them at all times. He was talking with his hands and his eyebrows were raised. That level of animation meant one thing — he was clearly skirting the issue.

  “Okay, so you can quit with the sugarcoating. Just give it to me straight sweetie, you’re trying to tell me, in the politest way you can that I’ll be lacking in manners in Weaverland aren’t you?” He stopped pacing and when our eyes met, we both started laughing.

  The rest of the day was spent going over the logistics of traveling, and then at my insistence we spent some time on social graces. From bowing to dialect, Kalan educated me on proper behavior and the formal expectations of a weaver. This was very important to me because I wanted to make a good impression for him. Of course, as a southern girl I was tickled to death by the nuances of communication because there are a million southern sayings that simply don’t make the translation in other regions. Although the same could be said of folks from California to a southerner – and don’t even get me started on fashion differences! If the girls back home wore half of the things they did in California, God only knows the gossip mill would be working overtime. As my loving mentor continued with my lessons, I tried to cement every detail in my mind. This wasn’t easy because I was a wreck just thinking about the fact that if I didn’t follow his instructions I could end up as a pile of dust. On top of that, time was playing peek-a-boo with me…and I didn’t even know where I was hiding.

  From what I learned, fashion in Era was also very unique. Almost everyone wore the clothing from the era that they were most familiar with. He explained that I could expect to see all sorts of variations in styles, and mixtures of fashions from different periods in time. He pushed images mentally to help me familiar
ize myself and some of them just made me giggle. I guess my mind was simply gravitating toward the humor in all of this because it was becoming more surreal the more Kalan shared. As the day wore on, I felt more and more like this was not going to be an easy experience for me. I wasn’t born into this life. I was just a simple girl from the country, and a big part of me wanted to stay that way. I had one thing going for me, and that was the fact that I was a master weaver with abilities gifted by royalty. According to Kalan, the rarity of that would give me a high level of respect, regardless of lineage.

  Despite my trepidation, I slapped on a brave face when Kalan said it was time. He gave me a kiss and took my hands in his. He had already changed into his traveling clothes – a loose, white tunic and matching pants. He looked like he should be lounging on a beach in some tropical setting, and I couldn’t help but think how much I would prefer to be weaving to such a place instead. I weaved myself into a pale blue sundress and my favorite pair of flat sandals since he said it would be warm there (which made me super happy), and then I splurged and made sure my toes were painted a light shade of pink. I figured I needed to make a nice impression so what the heck. Once I was content with my attire, I did as he instructed and closed my eyes. Next I focused on my breathing taking several deep, calming breaths to avoid the nausea. Although I kept my eyes shut tight, I felt as though I were falling. Nothing he could have said would have prepared me for that sensation! It was like stepping off the top of a skyscraper, or going down the scariest roller coaster imaginable. My stomach lurched and I would have screamed bloody murder if it had lasted one second longer. I don’t like scary rides one little bit so I was overwhelmed with a sense of relief when it ended as abruptly as it had began.

  Chapter Three

  “We’re here. You can open your eyes now.” I loosened the death-grip I had on his hands and opened my eyes. We were standing on what appeared to be a giant glass block of some sort. Kalan had explained to me that entry was monitored to protect against dark weavers, but this wasn’t what I’d envisioned. I guess my only comparison was airport security and this wasn’t anything like that. Although I could open my eyes, I found that I could not move my feet. There was a dull, buzzing sound in the air that reminded me of honey bees. I held very still and tried to remember to breathe until a woman’s voice filled the air around us. “Welcome home Prince Kalan, you are free to enter Era.” Kalan gave a slight nod of his head, but did not move from the block or release my hands. After the space of several moments, the female voice addressed me, “Welcome master weaver Joey, you are free to enter Era.” I mimicked what I assumed was the appropriate nod of my head, and then the block descended into the metallic platform leaving us with a set of stairs to climb. Kalan still had my hand as we made our way up.

  The moment we reached the top, a very ornery looking man appeared before us. His long black hair hung to his shoulders beneath a top hat, and his clothing made him seem that much more formidable. I mean, who wears a tailcoat and cravat nowadays? He greeted us with a peevish smile that reminded me of those hoity-toity people from the country club back home. I smiled my brightest smile and curtsied, “Torvin, your grace, thank you for seeing us.” I swear, his nose scrunched up as if he got a snoot full of rotten eggs as he gave me the once-over. Then I remembered Kalan’s training and cast my eyes down demurely until he spoke.

  “My schedule is never too busy for the Prince Miss Akers, but make no mistake – your time here is not your own.” I’ve agreed to your presence here only because of your affiliation with Prince Kalan, who’s family honor extends extensively beyond…that of your own. This way please.” So much for that ‘high level of respect’ for being a master weaver malarkey. I opened my mouth in rebuttal, but then clamped my lips shut to avoid embarrassing Kalan or ruining my chances for help here. He turned his back and used his fancy cane to tap his way down the long corridor. I turned to Kalan and rolled my eyes dramatically before communicating to him mentally, What a pompous ass. Kalan just gave me a tight smile and blinked several times. In other words, suck it up buttercup. I knew I would need to hold my tongue with this one.

  As we hurried after him, I marveled at the peculiarity of Era. Time here was a mish-mash of periods. The corridor we travelled down was sterile white with harsh lighting overhead, and almost reminded me of a hospital floor. Once he opened a door for us to follow him through, the setting changed to what I could only describe as a Great Hall in a medieval castle. The floors were covered with scattered rugs that appeared to be woven from straw, and the stone walls were adorned only by black iron sconces that held lit torches. The firelight cast eerie shadows against the low, arched ceiling and it made me think of knights in shining armor, and ladies in waiting. It felt cold here, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. The outfit I’d chosen seemed grossly inappropriate now and I debated conjuring up a nice medieval gown. Since I didn’t know if that would be tacky, I let that idea go. One wouldn’t want to make a fool of oneself straight away.

  The tap-tapping of Torvin’s cane echoed in the dimness as he continued to lead us and I doubled my pace to keep up. I dared to glance up at Kalan, but his eyes did not meet mine. His jaw was tense and an uneasy feeling began to build a pit in my stomach. We rounded a corner and entered a much warmer breezeway, just as a train thundered above us. I looked up and marveled at the massive tracks, the color of copper, and the long plume of dark smoke that funneled up and then hovered along the tops of the cars like a shadowy ghost rider. Out in the open, I took in the panoramic view of Era for the first time. It was such an impressive sight and I wanted to stop and ask a ton of questions but our host wasn’t stopping.

  I could make out people below us going about their day. Many were on horseback, while others drove strange looking vehicles the shape (and color) of eggs. Enormous glass buildings sat adjacent to stone-fronted merchant shops with hanging signs depicting their trades. I could make out a few of them and wondered what sort of establishment Sandy Regrets might be. My mind flashed briefly to a stolen kiss on the beach and I quickly shoved that down. If I could help it, Kess would not be mentioned while I was here. Even though Kalan had spent a ton of time telling me that it was rude to block my thoughts, I’d made up my mind to do it anyway. I figured it was better to leave some thoughts to myself – besides, I didn’t want to confuse Kalan or hurt him with stupid thoughts I couldn’t control thinking about. I sent up a silent prayer that my ability to cover my thoughts with my mental blanket was working, and pressed on behind our guide.

  The breezeway led into a portico, which housed several banks of elevators. To my delight, I was able to get a closer look at the weavers who were bustling about. Some paused to bow before Kalan and others were so deeply engrossed in conversations that they didn’t notice us. What I found most interesting was the manner of speech. I mean, some spoke normally but others I could hardly understand. The use of ‘thee’ instead of ‘the’ and ‘thou’ instead of ‘you’ just tickled me to death. I caught the tail end of another conversation between two young women who appeared to be just a little older than I was. One of them was pregnant and they were discussing the importance of weaving as it related to raising children. The one who was not pregnant said, “I would have to disagree, weaving ahead in the child’s life to see what mistakes they will make in advance provides a definite advantage!” The doors to their elevator closed and I was left wondering what it would be like to be friends with them. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like hanging out with experienced weavers my age!

  Torvin pressed a button in the wall, which summonsed a private elevator and the three of us entered alone. As the doors closed, our host turned to Kalan with his eyes slightly downcast, “I can only assume that you must be exhausted from your travels in the natural realm my Lord. We will make this as brief as possible.” Kalan nodded dismissively and I got the distinct feeling that they were continuing a private conversation mind to mind. It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t hear them because I ass
umed they must have been chatting about my inept abilities. Truth be told, I was terribly concerned about being an embarrassment. I was thankful that we were here and that I was going to be able to get the help, but if I did anything that caused the slightest discomfort, I’d never forgive myself.

  Proper manners are the backbone of a good Southern girl (especially for one living in a small town), and I was damned and determined to do my very best to make a good impression here. Granted, it wasn’t as simple as ‘please and thank-you’ or ‘sir and ma’am’ but I’d grilled Kalan on the proper etiquettes and felt relatively confident that I could handle this. It wasn’t like me not to adapt to my surroundings. I’d managed to move from Dempsey to California, and that took some serious adjusting. Changing my ‘y’alls’ to ‘you guys’ was no easy task.

  We were directed up a flight of stairs, which led to a Victorian looking building. Carved into the marble were several words, and I could not decipher most of them. I scanned the lettering and finally recognized the words ‘Centenium Hall’. To my relief, Torvin stopped before a set of twin double doors guarded by a matching pair of stone gargoyles. With a bit of overdone dramatics, he turned to face us. “

  Prince Kalan, if you would be so kind as to instruct her on the expectations of this proceeding, you may enter when you are ready to begin.” He bowed low and with that, he disappeared. Assumedly he entered the room leaving us alone in the entryway. I had to wonder why he didn’t just weave us directly to this location, but what did I know of the rules in this place? Besides, I was happy that I was able to see some of Kalan’s home, even if it was rushed.

  Kalan exhaled heavily and looked directly into my eyes, but did not speak. I smiled at him but his expression remained blank. I was stunned at what happened next. Mind to mind he forced knowledge into my brain that he had not shared with me at home. It was such an aggressive act that it caught me by complete surprise, making my nose burn and my eyes water. “Kalan that hurts,” I whispered. To which he gave no response. Rather, he pushed the doors open and placed his hand on the small of my back to encourage me to continue. I lost my balance, and Kalan shoved me forward. In the back of my mind I thought, get it together Jo-Jo. I brushed at my nose, which I realized was bleeding. Not wanting to make a mess of myself, I weaved a tissue and held it to my face. Classy, but what else could I do?