by Su Williams
A storm of Rephaim spun around us, igniting the air with electric ire. A sudden crack, like cloud to ground lightning, charged the air, and out of the storm, William fell to the ground and Thomas disintegrated to nothing. Sabre phased to William’s side and cradled his old comrade in his arms.
“I didn’t,” Sabre choked out as he clutched William’s shirt in his fist. I stepped forward but Nick held me back. I balled his shirt in my fists and pressed my head to his shoulder. The almighty Sabre was broken.
“I know, old friend. You were right.” William’s words were breath and moan. “I’ve been a fool all these years. Believed—all his lies. I should—have known better. I should have believed in you. I am—so sorry.” It was time for the truth. Time for Sabre’s amnesty.
“Don’t speak. You need to phase. We will talk as old friends, once you are well,” Sabre encouraged.
“No,” William’s voice came out as a quiet breath. “I’m tired now.”
“It’s just the shock.” Thomas must have gotten a shot off with the Taser. Sabre’s voice held a note of desperation and some of those rarefied Sabre tears glistened down his cheeks.
“No,” William repeated. “I am tired of this world. I am tired of the death and destruction. I am tired of the chase that was built on a lie.”
“I truly loved her,” Sabre admitted. “I love her still.”
“I know.” William’s breaths were fading, weak and shallow. “Forgive me, old friend. For turning your life into a war over something you did not do.”
Sabre’s brow crinkled in thought, perhaps to remember the words I’d used when he begged my forgiveness after letting me fall to my death. “I forgive you,” he choked out.
Nick and I stood back perplexed. How had all this come about? How had Sabre finally gotten his nemesis to hear him? Sabre cradled the Wraith in his lap and projected the images of his fight with William, of his desperate plea to be heard and William’s final concession…
Sabre’s weapons fell to the ground. His hands held out in surrender.
“My life is yours…if you will give me but just one minute.”
William knelt on one knee, winded and angry, but a spark of hope flashed in his eyes. “Two centuries as your hellhound and you beg a boon of only a moment?”
“A moment is the greatest gift.”
William nodded.
“If I could prove my innocence—reveal the lie that was the catalyst to this war, would you give me yet another gift of time?”
“We are too old for riddles. Speak plainly.”
“I will make Thomas speak the truth. Will you hear it?”
William’s eyes grew weary, and he bowed his head to Sabre. “I will hear.”
Sabre had returned from fighting William to lure the truth out of Thomas. William lay in wait for the truth of how he framed Sabre for the death of Sarah Rose by contorting her final memories.
“The forgiveness of a comrade is all I need. I meant for your blood, your powers to become mine. But now, I give you mine, instead.”
“No,” croaked Sabre.
“All my power. All my gifts. Contained within my dying blood. Use it to find him. Avenge me. Avenge—her.” The air wheezed out of William’s mouth, his body collapsed in Sabre’s arms.
With pain and grief contorting his face, Sabre twisted towards me. “Emari. The phial—in your pocket.”
I’d forgotten the crystal cylinder in my pocket until that moment. Now, it hummed against my hip. I huffed a humorless laugh, prescience was turning out to be a good thing. Ari’s former master had said to protect and covet the phials, but that tug from the future coaxed me to carry the phial with me into this battle. Digging in my hip pocket, I pushed past Nick, knelt at Sabre’s side and unstoppered the phial. Sabre thrust the phial into the gaping wound in William’s chest, as the last few stuttering pumps of his heart beat within him. In only a moment, the crystalline phial was full. Sabre capped it and thrust it into his pocket, smearing blood across his pants. “I will avenge you both,” he swore, as he slid William’s body to the ground.
Chapter 27 Demons
The cold night air was heavy with grief, our hearts heavier yet. Sabre sat beside William’s body, a catatonic rock swayed him; my heart understood the need for self-pacification. When Nick’s cool fingers stroked my hair, I stood and hugged him. His hands combed my body, his eyes raked my face in search of wounds. Finally satisfied, his arm entwined my waist and we turned to Sabre. Every personal tribulation fell away like molted feathers, until there was nothing left but compassion for this broken seasoned warrior huddled at my feet.
“I’ll go get a blanket from the house to cover him,” I whispered to Nick. Anything loud felt insolent. Nick was hesitant to release me. “Nick…” Finally, with a reluctant frown, his arms fell away. He showed me, with the press of his fingertips to my cheek, where to find a blanket in the house, and knelt beside his friend. I’d only managed three slogging steps, when Thomas coiled around behind me, pinned my arms to my body and crushed the air from my lungs. Never let a newborn vampire get his arms around you. It was almost funny how movie lines popped in my head when I was terrified. Almost.
He held a curved combat knife to my throat with serrations so large they looked like fins. I imagined the damage that weapon could do on its way in, and worse, on its way out. Thomas chortled at the images flashing through my head and pressed the blade deeper into my flesh. I heard the skin pop as the blade tip punctured through, and felt the hot dribbles of blood as it splattered down on my cold hand, cooling as it meandered between my fingers.
Nick staggered to his feet and surveyed the scene. His eyes followed the stream of blood from my neck to the ground. With a fierce growl, he stepped forward but Thomas pressed the knife a centimeter deeper, increasing the flow and I screamed in pain. Nick stopped dead in his tracks. Thomas cackled with delight.
“Please. Don’t hurt her. You can take me—just don’t hurt her.” He raised his blood-coated hands like trying to placate a raging animal.
I wanted more than anything to argue with him, to communicate somehow that everything was okay, but the blade sank deeper if I tried to move my head or speak. Geez, I’m tired of people handling me! Thomas chest rumbled with mirth at my thoughts. Yeah? Well, fuck you! But he only delighted more at my rage. I wanted his hands off me. And, I wanted him dead. Somewhere between this afternoon and now, I’d crossed the line of innate rationality and finally understood why Nick and Sabre fought so ardently against the Rephaim.
My stomach roiled at the lascivious images Thomas projected into my mind. And then, he tormented me with images of my parent’s crash—over and over again, until my legs nearly collapsed out from under me. “Just kill me,” I cried.
“No!” Nick took a step forward, but Sabre grabbed his arm.
I bawled in Thomas’ arms, the only thing keeping me on my feet. I just wanted away from him. I wanted his hands off me. I wanted the nightmares to go away. So why don’t I phase? With a slow draught of air, I willed each molecule in my body to lighten and shimmer away. And—nothing happened. Thomas chortled again. Why?
We’re like magnets. Thomas nuzzled my ear. My energies repel yours.
Fine, so maybe I couldn’t fight him physically; maybe I couldn’t phase. But I could dive into the cesspool of his head. I stared at Nick, imploring his caution, begging him not to throw his life away because of me. Please! Trust me! I sent the memory his way, hoping I was capable of a distance weave when I was terrified. Nick gave subtle nod. At the moment, he had no choice but to trust me.
“Thomas,” he said. “What do you want?”
“I want you to die,” sneered Thomas. “You and your old friend—and your little girlfriend here, too.” I knew I was bordering hysteria when the wicked witch from Wizard of Oz cackled in my thoughts, ‘I’ll get you, my pretty…’
Nick held his ground but swayed back and forth like snake charmer mesmerizing a cobra, trying to distract him while I figured out my plan
. My mind raced, furiously analyzing content, saved maneuvers that I couldn’t even begin to know where they came from. Maybe I could just convince him to drop the knife. I drew in the deepest breath I could manage under the press of his arms and dived into the raging mess that was Thomas’ head, and hoped to God he was none the wiser.
Through Thomas eyes, I took in the carnage; the blood, the weapons, Nick imploring for my safety, William’s prone body in bloody heap. His sense of justification in his actions began to infiltrate my perspective. Understanding and agreement twisted my thoughts. But then, the darkness, the fury, the power and the intoxication of stolen gifts and butchered lives washed over me in a turbulent wave that eroded my accord with him. It repulsed me, and reminded me of who and what he was; and what he was willing to do to survive.
I conjured an image of surrender and pressed it into his mind, gently so he would believe it was his own thought. I imagined him easing up on the blade and moving it away from my neck, and washed his mind with a feeling of necessity, like it was the right thing to do. Slowly, the knife eased away from my flesh and the pain decreased. Blood trickled down my throat, cooling as it traversed between my breasts.
Then, I showed him himself moving the blade carefully away, dropping it to the ground and releasing me into Nick’s arms. The blade drifted into my field of vision and I watched my own blood dripping from the tang relief washed through me—but the process was not complete. He had yet to concede to the images I’d implanted.
The blade whipped back to my throat. Thomas chortled. “Nice try, sweet cheeks. But I am far more powerful than you will ever be. You won’t live long enough to become my match.”
Nick took a tentative step forward but Thomas pressed the blade against my throat. Blood spilled and coated his hand. Nick lurched to a stop. Thomas gave another maniacal laugh. “You will never learn. And class time is over.”
The blade sliced, hot and searing into my throat. The ambling stream of blood spilled out with a gush. I gasped and gurgled, heard a distant roar and the wind ripped at my body. Darkness hovered over me as I clutched at my throat, trying to stem the surge of blood. And then, I was falling and the world was whorling around me. Voices, jumbled and loud, filtered through me, never anchoring or becoming cohesive thought.
“Emari!” Nick’s voice, desperate and strained. “Please, Em. Phase. You’ve got to phase now!”
Phase?
My body became lead in his arms and he shook me. “Emi, please! You’ve got to do it now!”
I gathered my fleeting thoughts, pulled on the one image that Nick’s words conjured in my heart. Warm. Safe. Free.
“That’s it, Em. A little more.”
Then the darkness flooded me. My soul shivered and flashed, and drifted into the night.
Chapter 28 Familiar Taste of Poison
Emari?
Emari, honey?
Daddy?
No, honey, it’s Nick.
Nick?
Yes, honey.
Did we die? Are we in heaven?
No. You phased and I came to retrieve you.
Where are we, then?
Nowhere. And everywhere.
Could you be a little more specific and a little less cryptic?
We can be anywhere you want to be, Em.
I want…
I want to go home. I want to sit with you by the fire.
Is that all?
Isn’t it enough?
It’s enough.
Wait! Is Sabre okay?
Yes.
And William?
Dead.
And Thomas?
And Thomas?
He got away. Again.
The heaviness of that thought was enough to carry me back. Slowly, my carefree, effervescent body shifted back to its corporeal form. Nick phased in beside me on the couch in my living room. He grabbed my chin, turned my face to both sides, checking for injuries. When he was satisfied, his arms wrapped around me, hot against my skin and I melted into him, too numb to grieve, too stunned to cry.
“What happened?” I asked, after a few moments of centering and grounding myself.
“Can’t we just rest a while, enjoy each other’s company for a change?” Nick asked.
“Can you stop trying to protect me from everything?” I said with a gentle chuckle.
Nick smiled and huffed a quiet laugh. “No. Probably not.”
I scowled at him but his earnest smile softened my heart. Crawling onto his lap, I took his face between my hands. His eyes melted my insides and my lips found his with more passion than I felt capable of containing. All the turbulent fervor of the last few hours funneled into that one searing emotion. Nick wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my body against his. His hands scorched up my thighs, up my back, clutched fistfuls of my hair. My body lightened as if I was flying again, but it was Nick whisking me onto my back. His body hovered over me, pressed like a sizzling flame against mine. His lips caressed mine and I pulled him closer. Our hands traveled the contours of each other’s body, soaking in the sensations of hot, soft skin, and firm, rippling muscle through our fingertips. Sweat glistened on our faces and Nick raised up to look into my eyes.
“I love you, so much, Emari Sweet,” he whispered through heavy breaths.
My heart hammered against my breast bone. I trailed trembling fingers across his beautiful mouth. “I love you, too.”
His lips returned to mine and singed a trail across my cheek, down my neck to my collar bone. He stopped and looked into my eyes again, questioning and careful.
“I’m sorry. I’ll stop…”
“No. It’s okay. I’m not afraid.”
“I am.” His confession made my heart ache.
“Nick. I want you…” I breathed.
“And I want to vomit!” came Sabre’s voice from the dining room.
Nick and I scrambled upright like two teenage kids getting caught by Dad—with a shotgun. Nick ran a sweaty hand through his hair. “Sometimes, Sabre, your timing sucks.”
I giggled and hid my crimson cheeks behind Nick’s arm.
Sabre snickered then grew stern. “Time to debrief.”
“Whoa! Since when did I become a recruit in Sabre’s Little Army?” I protested.
“Since you decided to enlist,” Sabre shot back.
“Ha. Yeah, there was that,” I conceded.
Sabre flipped a dining room chair around and straddled it, resting his chin on his arms across the back.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Sabre,” I said. I expected a smartass comeback.
“Thank you, Emari. I’m glad you’re all right, as well.” He smiled his brotherly smile, then nodded toward my shirt. “Well, except for that one little button.”
Panicked, I looked down at shirt, unaware that Nick and I had gotten as far as taking each other’s clothes off. But, I was wearing a sweatshirt—with no buttons. Glowing red again, I shot Sabre my fiercest glare, but the smirk on his face was far too powerful for me to withstand and we all broke into laughter.
“Okay, smartass, tell me what happened,” I finally said, feigning indignity through barely suppressed laughter.
“How ‘bout I just show you?” Sabre offered. “I’ve gotten pretty good at doing a distance weave.”
Pride swelled and warmed my heart. I taught them that. And now they…we had a new weapon at our bidding. But, we really needed to come up with a cooler name for it. “Sure, go for it.” Nick and I settled back on the couch, warm, relaxed and comfortable.
The scene played out like a movie, changing perspectives as Nick and Sabre wove their differing viewpoints together to mesh one united sequence.
The curved blade in Thomas’ hand sliced deftly into the softness of my neck. Blood spurted and gushed as I gurgled and clutched at the flow. Nick was by my side before I hit the ground.
Thomas wrestled with Sabre who, once again, had his trusty garrote wrapped around Thomas’ neck. But, Thomas still held the curved combat blade with the huge finlike
serrations on the sides.
“Emari!” Nick’s voice, desperate and strained. “Please, Em. phase. You’ve got to phase now!”
Phase?
Nick shook my unresponsive body. “Emi, please! You’ve got to do it now!”
My body sparkled with erratic flashes of light.
“That’s it, Em. A little more.” The sparkles whirled and my body turned to light and drifted away.
Thomas thrust behind him, plunging the knife deep into Sabre’s side. Sabre released the Wraith and the garrote, as Thomas ripped the blade away, along with chunks of Sabre’s tattered flesh. Sabre’s knees buckled underneath him.
“I live to fight another day,” Thomas saluted with the bloody blade and stormed away in a gale of light.
“Go!” yelled Sabre, as he wallowed on the cold ground. “Go get her! Don’t let him get to her first!”
Without a word, Nick dematerialized faster than I’d ever seen either of them disappear. Sabre glistened and sparked, then slowly slipped out of his corporeal form.
“Thomas never found you once you’d phased,” Nick explained. “But, he didn’t come back either.” Nick rubbed my arms as a chill of fear crawled under my skin. “It took me forever to find you. You were just drifting with whatever shiny thing attracted you.”
“I like shiny things.”
Sabre hocked a retching sound, and Nick and I laughed at him. “Ya know, I don’t understand why Thomas, or any of us, couldn’t just phase out of a choke hold.”
“We think that the will of offense overrides the will of the defense.” I stared blankly at him. I was so not into football—or baseball—or whatever analogy he was using. Sabre snuffed a condescending snort. “Okay, in girl-speak. If you put the same polarity of two magnets together, one of the magnets will flip to the opposite polarity. In much the same way, the electrical impulses in Caphar, whether Weaver or Wraith, seem to shut down some of the abilities of their opponent. You can still facilitate a weave, but the ability to phase is shut down. It is rarity to find a Caphar powerful enough to override this.”
