Another choking sob wrenched from her throat and she buried her head in her hands. Alone. Forever.
“I will always be here, lass. The Talde will help you through this.” Jedrik cradled her in his arms rocking back and forth.
“I...I...I need him to survive. To breathe.” It was the truth. She couldn’t imagine waking every morning to know that the man she loved was dead.
She struggled against Jedrik’s arms, uncertain what she needed or wanted except escape. Death maybe.
Anything but this. This reality that she couldn’t accept.
“I beg you lass. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” His grip tightened and she fought harder, punching at his chest, struggling to be free from his protective embrace.
Keir crouched down beside them. “Take her upstairs. Have Zurina put her in Deep Sleep.” His hand reached out to touch her tear streaked face and then pulled back before their skin met. “The Talde has your back, Delara. We’re your family.”
“No. Don’t take him from me.” Her vision was blurred with tears. She fought Jedrik as he picked her up.
“I need to see him. Let me see him. He’s not dead. I’d know it! I’d know.”
Her words were lost to her sobs and the fight to escape the arms holding her. To go where—she had no idea, but not here, not with the reminder of Waleron all around her.
Reality faded away and left behind misery that jigsawed its way through her mind, ripping it apart and putting it back together again and again.
She felt her body lower onto a soft, warm surface and fought the comfort. No, she didn’t want soft. She wanted pain like she was feeling inside.
She fought the hands on her limbs and the heaviness in her mind as Zurina’s voice chanted the words of Deep Sleep.
She fought the life she had to live without him.
Lost
London, England 1926 (3 months later)
Lost in an abyss of crushing sorrow, Delara lay curled in a ball on top of the white cotton sheets. The cool winter breeze shifted the lace curtains as it billowed through the open window and drove like a hollowing cry across the open expanse to fall on her trembling form.
Her body shivered, revolting against her mind begging for warmth, pleading for her to dive beneath the sheets and huddle under the blanket. The pain was real. Starving. Thirsty. Cold. The feelings of suffering. Of lost hope. It was the end and she was reaching for it. She gripped the physical pain with both hands in order to kill the emotions.
Her love was lost to her.
“Delara! For God sake lass, what the devil are you doing?” Jedrik stormed over to the window and slammed it shut causing the glass vase on the sill to fall and shatter on the floor. He ignored it, striding back towards the bed. “Frig, Sass. What the hell?” He grabbed a throw blanket that hung over the end of the bed and laid it over her pale, shaking figure, tucking it in around her.
Her body screamed thank you while her mind rebelled against the small comfort. She threw the blanket aside and turned on her other side away from Jedrik and his expression of horror and…disappointment. For months, she remained alone in her room, fighting any that tried to make her leave. She became so violent that finally they all decided it was best to let her be, except for Jedrik. He kept coming back every day. Weeks ago, he tried to physically force her from the room and it ended in him wearing a black eye. Since then he’d become more subtle with his attempts.
Sometimes he’d sit on the floor near the door and read a book aloud and other times he’d say nothing at all. She liked those times. His presence lent her strength to face another day, gave her a reminder that she was alive and, yet, when he left she hated the thought of surviving.
Lately he’d been more persistent, speaking in heated tones, urging her to respond, even threatening to throw her over his shoulder and dunk her in the horses’ trough. Nothing brought her out of the fog and each day became worse.
Alone. Desolate. Unable to climb from the darkness that kept her locked away. She’d fallen down a long, dark tunnel. Trapped, yet safe. She lay still, barely aware of Jedrik’s soothing words.
“Sass, Xamien, the Taldeburu of Europe is on his way. He’s a powerful Reflection, Sass. He can help you.”
A hand smoothed back her hair, but she curled up and turned away. Leave me alone. Let me go. She fell further downward until a shield lowered over her mind and she went into a cold, dark place—alone.
****
Xamien shook Jedrik’s hand as he stood outside Delara’s room. “I don’t know how long it will take to reach her mind. Her shields will be strong with so much grief.” He nodded towards the open door. “I may need to ask for your assistance, I’m just uncertain yet what I will find.”
“Anything. I’ll wait here until you need me. However long it takes. Whatever it takes. She can’t stay like this. She hasn’t moved in days, almost like she’s in Rest. Her body has shut down and I can’t even wake her anymore.”
Xamien felt the love Jedrik had for Delara. It was a love of a brother and sister, unconditional love. One he should have had with his brother. Xamien knew that if he had the chance to get into this woman’s mind and soothe her emotions, alter them, then Jedrik could bring her back the rest of the way.
“I suspect it will be hours.” Xamien placed his hand on Max’s shoulder. The six-year-old girl flinched under his hand, but it was less than it was a year ago, after he rescued her from a horde of vamps. “Go make yourself comfortable, Max. I may be awhile.”
Jedrik winked at the timid child. “I’ve told Zurina that you’re here. She’s in the kitchen and will make you something to eat.”
“Yes sir.” Max kept her head bowed and gave an insignificant nod before she walked away.
Jedrik stared after the girl. “Pretty timid for a Senses. Funny, she acts terrified, but I swear her emotions read completely opposite.”
Xamien felt the same thing. Max was fearless, yet submissive in every way. She did anything he asked and never spoke unless spoken to. “Found her as a slave to a horde of vamps. She refused to talk for months. Don’t even know her real name, but I had to call her something.”
“What is she?”
Xamien shrugged. “Can’t figure it out. Unable to read her thoughts either. I suspect in time I will or she’ll tell me.”
“Frig. Poor kid.”
Xamien tilted his head with agreement then opened the bedroom door. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of stale, morbid air. Xamien strode over to the bed and glanced down at the woman he would be spending the next several hours with. The moment he saw her angelic face with the cute nose he felt a connection. That was good; he’d need that to enter her mind.
He leaned forward and swept a finger across her temple, pushing aside a few strands of hair. There was something about this woman that triggered a familiarity with him. Maybe it was because he had lost someone important to him like she had. Although, the person he lost was still alive.
Xamien walked to the window, pulled a wooden chair away from the wall and moved it beside the bed. Without glancing at the huddled figure, he sat and closed his eyes, immediately searching for the lock that would allow him to enter Delara’s mind.
As a strong Reflection, he had the ability to read emotions and manipulate them. The trick was that Senses had strong shields around their minds; a Reflection had to find the lock and the key in order to open the door. Humans were much easier as they had no shields, however, every mind had a protective barrier. As far as he knew, only he had the ability to manipulate a Senses mind.
The ice block he slammed into upon trying to enter Delara’s mind was an indication that he’d be sitting here a while. Delara’s mind was a cold, dark fortress and empty. Most minds had something on the other side of the wall, but not this one. He searched around it, every nook, every cranny and found not a single ounce of memory, feeling, or emotion. Her mind was dead.
That meant one thing. She was so far hidden within herself that it was as if
she’d flicked a switch to Off. He had to find the switch in order to get her back.
The only chance he had of helping her was to use the memory that had taken her away—Waleron. If he could lower her shield for one second, he could enter her mind and try to influence it from there.
He and Waleron had been mere acquaintances, but he knew enough about him, and sat on council a couple times with him, to know his scent. Xamien was able to manipulate the air around him and it wasn’t a gift from the Goddess. Instead, it was his mother who had the special gift of magic in her veins. Something he’d never been great at, but, at times, Xamien was able to use what she’d tried to teach him over the years.
He reached into his jean pocket, pulled out a black marble and rubbed it between his palms. Chanting in his head the words his mother so eloquently spoke on occasion, he let the particles of air grip his skin, feeling the coldness of the marble between his hands. Chanting Waleron’s name, he employed the air towards him. He felt the heaviness cling to him, the scent of Waleron shifting through the air.
The magic suddenly hit Xamien in the chest and his breath left his lungs. Waleron’s scent emanated from the marble with full force then shot into the air before settling on Xamien’s skin like a blanket.
He slipped the marble into his pocket and moved to sit on the bed. He waited; watching the still form lying like a corpse, her breath barely moving in and out. Patience was the key to her mind. When her senses smelled Waleron near, she’d let the lock on her mind go in order to take the scent in. He had one second before the gate closed again and after that, he suspected they would never get her back.
Xamien watched for any signal. Waited for any signs, but Delara remained passive. Her eyes were still beneath her lids, her body quiet, mouth parted ever so slightly. He pulled the sheet up over her shoulders when he noticed a few goosebumps on her neck.
“Waleron?”
The soft voice was a haggard whisper, barely audible. Xamien moved closer, his palms resting on either side of her head, hoping, praying his moment to enter her mind was here.
Her nose twitched and her eyes moved back and forth beneath her lids. Xamien closed his eyes and began searching for the break in her mind, a place to enter the blackness.
A sniffle. A sob. Then a cry so horrific it almost broke his concentration. He pushed into her mind in that moment and fell into the pit of despair.
Xamien felt as if he was free falling, further and further into a cold place filled with webs of confusion. He let his mind go, knowing he needed to reach the end in order to knit a path for Delara back to the living.
He’d have to start from the beginning. That is why she didn’t come back to them, because the world had nothing left to offer, here deep in her mind there were memories of love. Of Waleron.
Hours went by while Xamien made new paths out of the darkness. Each time he made it further upward, he waited while she climbed up after him, following Waleron’s scent as if he were the one calling to her. Xamien tried to stay out of the memories as much as possible, but on occasion, to make a new path, he needed something to get her to follow. A memory of when Waleron had taught her how to grapple. A moment when she fell out of a tree. The memory of Waleron racing her across a meadow on horseback. Xamien never intruded on their intimacy, knowing that he could make a path without interfering on something so personal.
He had no awareness of time as he made a trail to where Delara could hear his voice. He was her only hope to pull her from the drudges of her mind.
One more path. Xamien could see the light, but he could also feel her hesitation. She was pulling back, ready to free fall down to where she thought she was safe from the hurt.
“No Delara. You will come with me,” Xamien ordered. His fingers trailed a path down her cheek, hoping she felt his touch, would know that he was real and he wasn’t letting her go.
“Waleron wants you to live.”
She took a step back and he swore beneath his breath. If he didn’t take control, he’d lose her.
“Do as I say Delara. I will not leave you here.” He cupped her cheek. “This place is no longer safe. The memories of him will die and you will be left in darkness. The light is already fading. Do you feel it? Do you feel your body getting cold? That is the darkness.”
The uncertainty in her mind fought against him, yet wanted to trust. God, he wished he could make her follow him, but she was frozen. Refusing to go any further.
If only he’d known her before, he’d be able to talk her through it, but he was a stranger and she felt that.
“It’s safe here. Warm. In time, you’ll heal.” He unconsciously stroked her hair with the back of his hand. “You love him. He knew that, Delara. He’d want you to love him in life, not in death.”
She remained impassive to his words. She wasn’t going to come with him. A stranger. He’d done as much as he could. Now it was Jedrik’s turn.
The moment he pulled from her mind, he felt as if a part of him had dissolved. There was an emptiness. God, it was as if he’d lost a part of himself within her mind. That had never happened to him before. He guessed it was the extended period of time he’d been immersed inside her thoughts and memories. He looked down at her, the strange craving he felt still lingering. He shook his head, disturbed by it, and yet his instinct said to let the feeling go—for now.
Xamien walked to the door and opened it.
Jedrik hurried to his feet. “Damn, you look like shit.”
“Five hours of mindweaving can do that to a guy.” He shook Jedrik’s hand. “Be with her, she is near the surface. I cannot convince her to waken. I suspect you can draw her back to the living. ” He glanced back inside the room. “Her love for him—it is a remarkable love story. And a devastating tragedy.” Xamien turned and walked down the hall.
“Delara?”
That voice. She knew that voice. Jedrik. She took a step towards him.
“Delara, it’s time honey. I need you to take my hand. Come on, sweetie.”
The bed sagged beneath his weight. She felt the heat from his skin as he curled his fingers around her own. “I need you to squeeze my hand, so I know you can hear me.”
She walked closer to where the man she trusted, knew as her best friend, told her to go. She felt the coldness seeping into her bones, the dryness in her throat, and the weakness in her limbs. She didn’t want to go. It wasn’t safe. It was too real. She was too afraid. Too alone.
“You will only be alone if you stay.” She recognized his voice. It was the man who’d found her in the depths of her mind and brought her close to the surface. “No matter where you are, I will always bring you back safely. Go to Jedrik.”
“I’m scared.”
“Me too, Kitten. Do it for the love of the man you’ve lost. Make him proud, Kitten.”
As she moved further forward, the emotions bombarded her and her body started to shake. She was about to turn and run when the physical touch of Jedrik’s arms came around her trembling waist, dragging her into the warmth of his skin.
“Shhh, Sass.” Jedrik held her close to him, whispering words she blocked from her mind as she thought of another man’s arms. Another scent and voice. “I’m not letting you go this time.” He lowered his tone, his words strong and fierce. “He’s gone, Delara. But you’re not. Find the strength to live with his memory.”
A scream wrenched from her parched throat. She didn’t recognize the horrific voice and it no longer mattered. The jerking sobs came uncontrollably as she pulled from her abyss. Jedrik rocked her in his arms, his hand caressing her hair like a mother would do for her child. She fought his comfort, the heat of his body. She fought until her arms failed to rise and finally she lay limp in his unrelenting embrace.
“I’m staying here until you can face the world again. It’s been long enough, Sass. Waleron would not be happy if he knew you suffered like this. He loved you lass, but I love you too and I’m not letting you go.”
She tensed at the sound of Waleron�
��s name, the tears falling faster, her heart shredding a little bit more. “I can’t. I can’t let him go. It’s like a knife is stabbing my insides and I can’t stop it.” She hiccupped on her tears. “It’s like he...he’s still with me. I feel like he is alive inside me and... Jedrik, I don’t know how to live without him.”
Jedrik kissed her cheek. “And I can’t live without my best friend.” Stroking her hair with his palm, he said, “I love you too lass. Frig Delara, you’re my family, my kin.”
Those words awakened something, a jolt. Maybe not that strong. A fizzle of stirring in her blood. Jedrik was her kin, if not by blood by friendship, the only kin she had now. And she wanted to feel needed, too, because the pain was so deep that the only person alive to make her want to open her eyes was Jedrik.
“I miss him. I miss him so much.”
Jedrik lay spooned behind her. “I know, lass,” he murmured. “And I would do anything to bring him back for you, but I can’t, so we do what he wanted us to do—live and protect.”
The sobs choked her.
“You have to cease believing he’s alive. You have to let him go.” He lowered his voice to a warm, soothing purr. “Cry, Sass. Cry until you let him go. If it takes a day, two days, another friggin’ month so be it. We will stay here until you’re finished crying.” He found her hand under the blanket and gave it a squeeze. “I’m not leaving you this time. You can rant and rave and hit me all you want, I will stay until we leave this room—”
“Jedrik?”
“Ay, lass?”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t say thanks yet. I haven’t started complaining about your smell.”
She choked on a half laugh and tightened her grip on him. She felt someone else inside her, a man, a voice, but she couldn’t distinguish who he was. What she did know was that he was a reassurance. A comfort to her despair.
FALL (The Senses) Page 4
