by A. R. Miller
Something on the fringe of the crowd catches their attention. With more grace and precision than I expected, they part, leaving a path. The bowing and scraping is now directed at another. I know without asking who the shadow–cloaked figure is. Jealousy flashes as their devotion turns and I can feel their confusion as I picture them destroying this intruder.
“Control. You must learn control,” says the voice I used to call friend. “If you do not embrace it, do not take the power, it will destroy you.”
I feel it more than hear it ripping through the rage that encompasses me, but something clicks. Making me painfully aware of my surroundings and the flood of emotions I’m riding. He lowers his head and fades into the darkness. Leaving me lost, confused, and a little more than scared as the crowd turns its attention back to me.
***
I wake drenched, clutching at the tangle of sheets binding me to the bed. This has to stop. Surprisingly enough my heart hasn’t propelled through my ribcage. This had to be the most disturbing of the dreams yet, even beating out my own death. I’d had no control in that one. In this one, I was the one in control and I liked it. Strike that, I loved it. All that power.
Rolling from the bed, stumbling into the bathroom, sheet and all, my stomach takes a dive. I heave until every last chip and its toppings are gone, then rest my head against cool porcelain.
Remnants of the dream hang behind my eyelids like some warped silent film. Dead things, beginning with the plant at NTF headquarters, working up the food chain until they are of the two–legged variety. They reach toward me. They chant my name, even that stupid plant. “Plants can’t talk.”
“I know plants can’t talk. Did someone have a little too much last night?”
I scream as blinding brightness fills the room and throw my arms over my face in a feeble attempt to block my eyes. With a resounding click blessed darkness returns.
“Keely? Are you okay?”
Rey is leaning over me. I can see him, but it just isn’t registering. So cold. So very, very cold. My teeth are chattering and I’m shaking so hard every bone in my body aches.
“Keely? Nys! Get in here, there’s something wrong with her, and it’s not a hangover! Geez, Keely, let go that hurts.”
He places his hands over mine where I’ve grabbed his shoulders and removes them. He winces as he touches one shoulder, then the other, drawing back blood–coated fingers. “Gods, girl that was quite the death grip you had there.”
I want to apologize, but with the word death, my shaking intensifies and I can barely see, let alone speak.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Don’t know. At first I thought she was hung over. Hasn’t said a word, just sits there all glassy–eyed, shaking like a damn vibrator. Nearly shredded my shoulders when I tried to calm her down.”
Someone is touching my face and I try to swat the hands away.
“Hey, it’s me. Nyssa. She’s all clammy. Looks like she threw up. Food poisoning?”
“No, we all ate the same thing.”
Their voices are garbled and faces all streaky and fuzzy. The pain. I’ve never felt such pain. Passing out is a definite possibility, but that would mean sleeping, sort of, and I don’t want to go back to that nightmare world. Somewhere in the depths of my addled brain I feel wet sandpaper sliding against my face.
“Back off, C.C., she’s sick,” says Rey.
Hissing, growling, and a shout of pain before the rough wetness is back. C.C. My cat, not a new form of nightmarish torture.
“Should we call 911, or a doctor?”
You’d think when you’re lying on the bathroom floor shaking like an epileptic the words doctor and 911 should be of some comfort. Hel and no. Doctors equal needles. I’ve always had a fear of needles and those words cut through my convulsed mind bringing the pain of thousands of them stabbing me in every place imaginable.
“No,” I forced through chattering teeth. There’s another fear for you, dentists. The slamming of my jaws probably caused some serious damage.
“But Keely, you’re sick,” says Nyssa, hovering over me.
“No. Doctors.” Forcing the words out hurts almost as much as the tremors ripping through my body. I want it to stop, but not at the expense of being poked and prodded.
“Get her back into bed,” says Nyssa. “I’ll make some hot tea, maybe we can warm her up.”
I moan when he lifts me, followed by a series of whimpers as we move across the room.
“Sorry darlin’,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath against my ear a strong contrast to my icy skin.
I nearly bite through my lip wanting to scream as he lays me on the bed. He pulls up the covers, then slips in beside me.
“Now I know you’re sick,” he chuckles against my neck. “Any other time if I’d crawled into bed naked with you, you’d have tossed me across the room.”
I hear the words, but they don’t mean shit. I struggle to get closer to him, wanting to crawl into the intense heat of his body.
“Damn, it’s like hugging a block of ice. What the hell is wrong with you, or would that be hel? I’ve heard her realm is pretty damn cold.” He slides an arm and leg under me, wrapping his whole body around mine. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, we’ll get you warmed up.”
I hadn’t realized I was until his fingers brush my cheeks.
“Rey, what in Hel’s Realm are you doing?”
“Warming her up. Do you know a better way than body heat? Wouldn’t hurt if you crawled in here too, and it would definitely help me having two girls in bed.”
The scratch of Nyssa’s lacey pajamas is like razor blades after the smoothness of Rey’s bare skin, but she is warm.
“Gods, she’s a frickin’ iceberg.”
“I know.” His grip tightens around me. “I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself with all this shaking. Fuck.”
My ears are buzzing so loud, I feel more than hear Rey whisper against my neck and shoulder. I snuggle in closer to his animal heat. Pain, so cold it burns fills me, shoves its way to the surface. The tingling stretch of my skin feels like a unitard ten sizes too small as it tries to contain whatever it is that wants out.
The power. Take it.
“Einen.”
“Who the hell is Einen?”
The tiny bit of my brain still conscious tries to explain, but my lips don’t cooperate.
Take the power. Control it, or it will destroy you.
“It’s okay, Keely, just try and relax.” Rey wraps his arms tighter and tosses a leg over mine, encompassing me in warmth.
Come to me. I will help.
“Can’t. Don’t know how.”
The shushing noise, intended to be calming, rings like a freight train in my ears. In the dark, I can feel their movement. An undulating curtain of shadow draped across the room, lowering itself over me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Moonlight leaches color, leaving everything in shades of grey. Shadows, cast by undetectable objects, slither across the landscape. Disembodied whispers, things that should terrify me, are now commonplace, almost comforting. Alarm bells sound at that feeling of security. I ignore them, relishing not having to deal with life. The pain I couldn’t escape in the waking world now almost nonexistent.
I know he’s here before his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him. I also know what he’s thinking. No, not some magical link, just his baser needs pressed hard against my tailbone. My own thoughts move in the same direction as his hands slide the length of me. Fingers snag the tie holding my robe as they move down my waist, briefly cradling my hips before continuing. The loop fastening the robe gives away and those hands find bare flesh. Frustratingly slow, they move back up until they cup my breasts, thumbs gently circling my already stiff nipples. I moan as his lips find the sweet spot at the base of my neck and shoulder. The one that makes me melt back against him.
“Smaller than I like, but they will do,” he says, his breath tantalizingly hot against my nec
k.
Smaller than he likes? This brings back painful memories of how I fell for breast enhancement cream. Hey, I was sixteen and still wearing a training bra. Not like it worked, and age didn’t help either, no matter how much The Sisters promised it would. I’m scarcely out of an A cup.
Spinning around, I find myself faced with the mocking grin of my imaginary friend and he’s beautiful. And an asshole. Beautiful, but still an asshole. Giving him a push, I pull my robe closed and cinch the tie.
“Come now, it is not as if you do not know you are far from,” his eyes linger on my chest, “well–endowed.”
He reaches out, fingers brushing against my collarbone. “If it is any consolation, they are nearly perfect in form.”
Standing there like a fish, mouth gaping, I can’t even come up with a decent comeback. Instead, I stupidly say, “Really?”
“Yes, really.” He pulls me back against him.
I try to push him away again, but fail, caught in the circle of his arms.
“If you do not wish this kind of attention, you should not appear unannounced in someone’s home wearing practically nothing.”
“What in hel? All this time you’ve been hanging out in my dreams, you finally decide to talk to me and it’s to insult my boobs?”
“Shh.” He places a finger against my lips. “Invoking, or provoking a goddess, especially that one, can be dangerous. And I did not insult,” he focuses on my chest again, “as you so eloquently put it, your boobs.”
I bat the finger away and scowl, earning me laughter.
“Look you’re the one who’s in my dream, not the other way around.”
This earns me even more laughter.
“You think this a dream?”
I nod.
“My dear, this is no dream.”
I shake my head. “Nope, this is a dream, just like the other times I’ve seen you.”
“No, this is not a dream, but you are correct in part. The other times I came to you, you were dreaming. Although, not always did your consciousness stay within the bounds of what you perceive as reality. There were brief moments you crossed boundaries.”
He sweeps me back into his arms, holding me against him so tightly I can barely breathe.
“But this time, you crossed even farther,” he says, before his lips molest mine.
Okay, molest isn’t the right word. You can’t molest the willing and boy, am I willing. A release I didn’t know I was searching for is right around the corner. I can feel it. Crushed against my thigh.
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back as his lips trace a line from my lips across my jaw and downward. I tense for a moment as he lingers on my neck. Another elven vamp? No, or at least no fangs, but there are teeth I find out as they graze my nipple, extracting a moan.
“Wait. Stop.” I manage to reluctantly, detach his lips from my body. “I need some answers, Einen, and have a feeling you know what they are. Some of them, at least.” Reminiscent tremors of pain echo along my skin.
Our eyes meet and tears push their way to the surface. I want so much to hate him for leaving a scared, confused child, but I can’t. He’s here now, filling a part of me that had been missing. “You said you’d help me.”
Those beautiful, full lips, that so recently sent shivers of desire through me, constrict to a downward line. Eyes of pale silver darken to storm grey.
He’d also said he’d always be there for me, but that had been a lie. What makes me think he’s willing, or capable of helping now?
Einen reaches out running a finger through the wetness of my tears. I feel myself leaning into his caress as his hand cups the side of my face. There’s none of the spark I felt from touching Alric, or his icy counterpart, but something else. Something that frightens me. A longing, a need, a rightness to his touch. Like finding the missing piece of a puzzle, or a part of yourself you never knew was missing. A slow smile curls his lips as he drops his hand and I blink my way back to reality.
“They speak untruths.”
“Who does?”
“Those you surround yourself with. Some want your power for themselves, others wish to destroy you. Some, in an act of what they perceived as protection, love even,” his scowl deepens, “have made it possible for you to destroy yourself.”
“What are you rambling about? Who would possibly want the power to grow hair?” Another hairstylist sure, but what would that gain someone else? I shiver at the thought of Dara, or Rey wanting what I’ve got. No way, they’re my friends. Right?
“So are you talking about The Collector?” The imagination runs wild wondering if one of my friends is that monster.
He shakes his head. “They do not need to wield it, only use you as a conduit. Have you not been called Schattenkind?”
I nod, waiting for a better explanation of what that is exactly.
“You have the power to do more than just make hair grow. The dream that brought you here, that is a taste of what awaits when your Talents are no longer held in check.”
Laughter bubbles up and spills over. “I’ve had my Talents since I was a teen. Yeah, I was a little late in getting them, but still.”
He sighs and looks away, shaking his head. His lower lip caught between his teeth shouldn’t be so damn enticing, but it is and it stops my laughter cold. A vision of that lip between my teeth sends a flood of heat to my cheeks.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation at another time.”
“Wait, I want to talk about this now,” I yell, but it’s too late. He’s faded into nothingness.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Warm and comfortable, I detest whatever brought me to the state between dreamy sleep and fully awake. I fight against it, wiggling down in the bed, begging sleep to take me back. Something stirs against my back and I freeze. Opening my eyes, I find an arm slung over me. A man’s arm. I lift my head slightly and identify the tickle across my waist—my very naked waist—to be a rope of red hair. Oh gods, what have I done? I don’t remember having that much to drink. What happened last night that I ended up in bed with not only a man, but an employee and friend? I squeeze my eyes closed. Movies, nachos, a couple of beers with Nyssa, Rey and Dara, that I remember. It’s afterward that’s the problem.
I went to bed, bad dreams. Waking up, tossing my cookies, or in this case, nachos. It’s hard to remember the cold, considering I’m so warm now, but I was freezing. Voices surrounding me, Rey, Nys and I think C.C. was there too. Shaking, pain, being put in bed again. I don’t want to remember the dreams, but I know they are behind what happened. Something chased them away. Einen. Einen was back in my dreams, or as he claims, I paid him a visit.
None of that matters. What matters is figuring out how I’m going to deal with the warm body wrapped around me. His arm loosens and I wiggle out from under, sliding to the edge of the bed. Turning to grab the sheet is a big mistake, my hand freezes mid–way as I take in my living, breathing blanket. Damn, Rey is even more beautiful naked.
“Like what you see, ma chéri?” His chuckle turns to a full out belly laugh as I wrench the sheet, flipping him onto his back.
The door swings open and I hold the sheet in front of me in a poor attempt to cover what everyone has seen by now.
Nyssa stands there holding her hands over her eyes, peeking through spread fingers, a big grin stretching from ear to ear. “Now there’s a scene for the record books.”
With a snort, Rey grabs for the other half of my sheet. Yanking it away, I push the blanket toward him. “Like you weren’t in here with us just moments ago.”
She shrugs, moving into the room, followed by Dara, who leans against the frame, arms crossed.
“Somebody mind telling me how I ended up in bed with Rey? And Nys? Naked?”
“Moi fell prey to your seductive charms,” says Rey, with a wink as he pulls his pants on.
It’s my turn to snort. “Yeah, right.”
The playfulness is gone, his expression so serious I barely recognize
him.
“You were sick, this morning. So sick, we thought we’d have to call 911.”
I nod, remembering arguing with them, and Rey joking about being naked in bed with me. The cold, the pain. What I can’t remember is what brought it all on. He sits beside me, draping an arm around me.
“I found you on the bathroom floor shaking, your teeth chattering so loud I could hear them before I came in. You couldn’t say anything, just stared at me all glassy–eyed. We were scared and you were so cold. That’s how you ended up in bed with us. We were trying to raise your body temp.”
I nod.
“Can you tell us what caused you to freak out like that?”
Looking at Dara, tingling cold begins at the base of my spine, spreading frosty pain across my skin. “Dead things.”
***
I sit enfolded in Rey’s arms shaking, barely hanging on to sanity while visions of outstretched arms—dead arms, attached to dead bodies—reach toward me.
He pulls me back on the bed, wrapping himself and the blankets around me. “I think you better skedaddle, Dara.”
Through the haze of fear and death, I see Nys pushing Dara out of the room.
His voice rumbles in my ear, the words unimportant, only the sound of his voice, soothing my shattered nerves. Keeping the imagined dead at a distance. Maybe he knows this and continues to talk, mostly idle chatter.
I’m the one in control, I tell myself. It’s just my imagination. His arms tighten as a violent tremor rips through me.
A distant ringing and raised voices. The phone. I try to concentrate on what’s being said, anything to take my mind off the horrific images floating in my brain. It doesn’t matter. Those calling me metaphysically don’t give a shit who’s on the phone.
“Raise your shields, Keely.” I hear Rey mumble against my ear.
The wall. Brick by brick I picture it blocking the groaning, grabbing things. Dead things. A giggle escapes as his grasp tightens—a death grip—turning to sobs with my own ironic joke.
