Shattered Days (The Firsts Book 7)

by C. L. Quinn

  “Need some liquid courage, Mac?” Joe asked, gesturing to the bottle.

  Marc held it up. “No. Just looking for something to help me relax and sleep.” He paused, then looked Joe in the eyes. “Bad dreams, of late.”

  Joe nodded. “Okay. Just, watch yourself. Don’t get in the habit.”

  “I know. Thanks, Joe. See ya tomorrow.”

  Joe was a good guy. Marc knew he had a military background himself, and whatever it was, he figured he saw something in Marc that he recognized. There was comfort in that, in working for someone who understood some of what he’d been through.

  Since he lived so near the bar, Marc sometimes walked to and from work. Tonight, it was warm, the air friendly, not too many people wandering around since tomorrow was the beginning of the work week for most. He saw a crowd of people on the other side of the street, older than the usual twenty and thirty-year olds that frequented here on weekends. He could hear music somewhere, not too far away.

  Yeah, that’s right, there was a concert in the park about a block away. He’d heard some customers talking about it. Maybe he’d wander over and see what was going on. The apartment was feeling somewhat claustrophobic lately. Empty may be a better word. Or lonely. Not that he would admit that out loud, or even to himself, most of the time.

  The bottle of whisky had a simple screw cap. Taking it off as he walked past the people on the sidewalk, he tossed it into a waste receptacle. He wouldn’t need it.

  As he neared the park, the music got louder and he recognized the tune they were playing. The Age of Aquarius. Harmony and understanding. Sympathy.

  Innocence interrupted. Bombs bursting in air. Young men sent to fight in wars that they had no reference for. Idealized expectations of youth.

  The Age of Aquarius. It might have been a few decades earlier than Marc’s experience, but the sentiments applied. Old men making wars for young men to die in.

  Marc felt lightheaded, his chest compressed. He laid his free hand over his thudding heart. The memories tried to invade his waking hours, the hallucinations he’d fought wanted to visit again. No…

  Dropping his weight against a brick wall, he closed his eyes and spoke his mantra. There will be peace in the valley, there will be peace in the valley, there will be peace in the valley…

  It worked, thank God. His body calmed, and he opened his eyes. He couldn’t control what came back to him in dreams, but he’d mastered sending away the shockwaves of memories that used to assault him with no warning during his waking hours. He couldn’t live through that again, he didn’t want to.

  He remembered something he’d read by Plato. Only the dead have seen the end of war. Often he wondered if that wouldn’t have been better, because he didn’t know if he’d ever be really all right again.

  The song continued, and one of the lines struck him hard. And the mind’s true liberation…

  God, he wanted nothing more. Just some peace, some justification for what he and so many had been through, for what they’d done in the name of patriotism, for what young men had done and seen. For watching men who had become brothers die… His thoughts trailed off.

  Liberation. He needed to be whole again.

  Marc looked down at the bottle in his hand and smiled bitterly. Liquid courage. Yeah, it was. He lifted it and took a long draw from the amber throat. It burned some going down. He liked that. As he lifted his eyes, they moved across the crowds gathered, swaying to the music.

  Happy people enjoying a lovely summer evening. It was nice. His eyes stopped suddenly when a flash of long, bright blonde hair caught them and held them. Was that her?

  He began towards the slight woman who had her arms up, swaying sensuously along with the crowd. The image hit him hard, in the chest, and in the groin. He felt himself filling, and was surprised. What the hell?

  He did not know this woman. Did he? Could he?

  No. He knew he didn’t because he remembered there was no recognition of him in her eyes when he’d met her last night. His mental state might be suspect, but his senses were sharp, he would have noticed if she’d had any reaction at all.

  She did not know him, and he did not know her. And yet there they were, as close as soldiers or lovers in his dream, in his mind.

  He started forward, taking another long sip from his bottle of courage. Picking up his pace, he was nearly behind her when the crowd swelled and moved towards the stage, and he lost her.

  Scanning the moving masses of music lovers, he couldn’t find her again. No matter how much he searched, she was gone. Damn’t!

  As he dropped back and wandered away from the people who now were nearly all singing along with the band on stage, he kept looking back, his eyes roving every blonde head. Tomorrow, hell or high water, he was pulling her out of that diner and finding out who the hell she was!

  He headed home.

  Smiling up into Frank’s grinning face, Tamesine felt better than she had in a very long time. She’d never been in such a perfectly normal, human moment before and it felt strangely good, strangely right. Frank was great company, and had a very good singing voice. Tamesine had rejected his plea at first to sing along with him, but then gave in when he dropped on one knee and begged, so she tried to keep up with the song she really didn’t know.

  “Not bad, not bad,” Frank had said with an enormous grin.

  Tamesine pushed him, carefully, making sure she didn’t use too much power. “Liar. I sounded like a wounded pig.” Her eyes were shining though. “But I enjoyed it. It was fun.”

  “It was.” Then Frank paused as he pushed a long curl back and tucked it behind her ear. “It’s nice to see a genuine smile on your lovely face, Tam.”

  She curled her lips derisively, and glanced up at him. He was too good to her, she didn’t deserve it.

  Frank felt her mood change and suddenly clapped his hands. “Now, I’ve got the perfect thing. Come on.”

  “Frank, you’ve already been so kind to me,” Tamesine began.

  “Nope. You have to try this. I’m giving you the complete L.A. street experience.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her through the throngs of people still enjoying the music, out the other side and to a row of street carts.

  “Have you ever eaten an authentic California chili dog?”

  Tamesine shook her head, a confused, worried, look on her face. “I’ve never had dog.”

  “You can’t miss it.”

  Frank pulled out a couple of bills and turned to a man up in one of the carts who wore an Aloha-print shirt and wide-legged shorts.

  “Two dogs, load them. And waffle fries. Two colas.”

  “Right on, brother,” the man in the flowered shirt said and turned away. He was back in moments with a paperboard box and two cups with plastic lids.

  Frank scooped up the items and led Tamesine over to a bench across from the carts. He handed one of the paper-wrapped sandwiches to Tamesine and ate a fry.

  “Try it.”

  She paused, her eyes locked on the odd-shaped piece of meat covered with a heavy meat-laden sauce. She was starved, and it smelled wonderful.

  “But. Frank, I like dogs, I can’t eat one,” she finally said.

  He started to laugh, nearly choking on the French fry and had to wash it down with some of his cola.

  “Honey, it’s not made from dog. We call them hot dogs, but they’re just beef. You’ve never had a hot dog before?”

  “No. Oh, thank God. Okay, it smells delicious.” Relieved, Tamesine took a huge bite. She waited a moment to look up at Frank.

  “Oh, hell, that’s good, Frank. Wow. I mean, that’s really good.”

  “See, Tam? Trust Frank. The entire L.A. street experience, served fresh.”

  It had been a surprising night for Tamesine. When Frank finally led her back towards her apartment, he gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek before he left her in front of her building.

  “That was nice, Tam. I’m glad we got to hang out a little tonight. You’re a g
ood kid.”

  Tamesine smiled at him. Kid. He was probably only about forty-five years old, and although she looked around thirty, she had several long centuries on him. But it felt nice to be treated like family.

  “I am too. I’ll see you tomorrow, Frank.” She went down the stairwell that led to her basement apartment and closed the door behind her.

  What a great night. What a human night. Calm, normal, no trauma. Just good company, good music, and delicious food. It was this kind of calm she’d needed to arrive at in order to find a way to reconcile and accept, to live with, her memories. The life that had led her to madness, she needed to face, to be well. And all it would take was this calm, easy place, a place of anchor, to keep her sane while she reached into her past.

  Although it wasn’t necessary for her to lock her door, she did anyway, and dropped her clothes as she headed into her bathroom to prepare for her daytime rest.

  She clipped her hair high up on her head because she felt warm, flushed, damp. Singing, dancing, and laughing with Frank had been one of the nicest evenings she’d ever known.

  Tamesine stared into the inadequate lighted mirror over her sink. The poor lighting created shadows on her face that she thought seemed accurate. She looked into her own blue eyes, clear, questioning, and spoke to the woman who looked back at her.

  “You’ve been alive for over a thousand years,” she whispered out loud. “And a cheap meal at a free concert in a small park with a crowd of humans is the one of the best evenings you’ve ever had.” It was really so off her charts, she was at once pleased and mystified by the event.

  Anyway, it was a good memory, and she didn’t have very many of those.

  Naked, she slipped under her sheets, and fell asleep almost instantly.

  At one time in her past, that would have meant a good night’s sleep, but not this time.

  Immediately, dark clouds swirled around a vermillion sky, otherworldly and unsettling. She stood in the center of a barren landscape as the advancing clouds came in, fast, a storm front, menacing as it swelled. Lightning struck in the distance, and seconds later, a rolling thunder shook the sky.

  Tamesine shivered. In the dream, she was naked, too. A cold wind began, so she rubbed her hands along her shoulders. This was new. The landscape, not the odd, frightening dream, those were common.

  Suddenly, someone else’s hands slipped around her shoulders as they laid a heavy white cape over her exposed skin. The hands moved downward to her waist and pulled her against a warm body. A deep voice whispered in her ear.

  “It will be all right. I’ve got you.”

  In the dream, Tamesine pulled away sharply and whirled around to confront the person. It was him, she knew it would be, she recognized his voice.

  “Who are you?” She finally got to ask the phantom man.

  “I’m your protector. You need a warrior. You need someone to travel with you. I am the one who will hold you close, and help you make it through the darkness. I am your foothold. I’ve got you.”

  He was beautiful, this man she’d only seen briefly one night. He wore jeans with holes up and down the dark denim, and nothing else, not even shoes. His hair whipped wildly in the increasing wind.

  “I don’t know who you are. You need to tell me.” It was the one thing she wanted to know at this moment more than anything.

  He looked thoughtful, his gaze moving across the top of her head, then his eyes returned hers. “I don’t know who I am, other than your traveling companion. What else do you need to know?”

  “Why are you here? I’ve never met you before. Why are you here in my mind?”

  “I’m lost. I think I’m here to find you, and to find myself.” He paused. “I can’t tell you who I am because I don’t really know anymore.”

  Her dream-self leaned into his body to let his warmth infuse her. Even in the dream, her naked body was cold and warmed completely everywhere it touched his.

  The dream-man was right. Together, they were able to find a peace she knew she had not found alone. Not even around Caedmon.

  When she felt his fingers moving against her belly, she felt her dream-body shudder. He was caressing her gently, it wasn’t sexual, but her body reacted to his touch anyway.

  She wanted to slide his fingers lower and between her legs, but she didn’t. Although she felt his cock pressing against her buttocks, and nearly moaned at how good it felt, she stayed still. This wasn’t about sex. This wasn’t about anything she really understood at all.

  But one thing she did know…she needed this, she needed him. It felt as if she always had. And as much as he was here with her, in her mind, her dream, she knew that she was in his. She knew that the man she did not know was dreaming this same dream. His dream-self was holding her against him in his own mind, too.

  Using first blood magic, sleeping Tamesine pushed into him, reached deeper into who he was. She hadn’t been able to meet him in real life, but here, nothing would stop her from finding out what she needed to know. Who and what was this man that he could do this? How was he here with her? Was he truly benevolent?

  She would find out now.

  The winds began to wail.

  Ten blocks away, Marc rolled in his bed, groaning. He was dreaming of her again, holding her, his hands roaming against a smooth, taut belly, stopping there, when all they really wanted to do was slide downward. His cock was insisting he do so, as, engorged, it pushed up against her softly rounded butt. At least his dream-self was able to get an erection quickly. He remembered, then, that he’d reacted to her like that last night at the park. Outside of the dreams.

  Now, though, their dream-bodies pressed together, she’d asked him who he was, why he was here. Hell, he had no idea. In fact, he had the same questions for her.

  When his dream-self answered her, he wondered what his sub-conscious mind knew that he didn’t. He didn’t understand any of the strange things he’d told her.

  A storm had raged in the dream state the entire time he was there, and continued to build. Wind, lightning, thunder, all threatened the two holding each other as the sky darkened. Marc felt the wind begin to tear at them, almost as if enormous hands were pulling them apart. It was so loud in his ears now, he couldn’t hear what she was saying. She turned and reached for him, but the wind grabbed her, ripped her so hard from him, he saw only her hands, still out to him, as she disappeared into the black clouds.

  He woke abruptly and shot upright, disoriented and frightened. Sweat soaked him, and his heart pounded, his head ached so badly he pressed his hands to his temples.

  Once again, a creepy, cryptic dream destroyed his rest. He knew he wouldn’t sleep anymore tonight. After several long minutes, he recovered his breath, and swung his legs onto the floor. They felt like lead, but held him when he stood, then walked into the kitchen.

  The bottle of JD was nearly empty. He turned away and ran a glass of tepid water as he tried to quench the unexpected thirst. Nothing helped. He needed to get a grip again. He needed to find out what the hell was happening and if he was really, really losing it again.

  FIVE

  Tamesine held the cell phone in her hand and just looked at it. More than anything, she wanted to call Eillia in France and have her put Caedmon on so she could hear his baby babble. And she wanted to call Cherise and ask her what she thought the strange relationship she had and yet did not have with the man she did not know, might mean.

  But she knew, her first blood power, her spirit amulet, led her to an irrefutable conclusion that this part of her journey, she must travel alone. Separate of the family she’d found after all those centuries of madness. They had rescued her from the brink. Now it was up to her to find her own path and her own truth.

  After several long minutes, she laid it on the counter of her small kitchen, face-up, so it could taunt her, and reached into the little refrigerator for a box of pizza.

  Cold pizza, she’d found, hit the spot better than just about anything these days for quick calories,
as well as being so easy. Right now, anything that was effective and less complicated was her friend. The food filled up a serious lack of needed calories. More than that, tonight, she would have to find someone for a quick blood meal. It was just a matter of whether to do it before or after work.

  “After,” she said out loud, between shoving large slices into her mouth. Sometimes, the silence in the room was deafening, so she would speak to herself.

  “So, are we going to look for the man tonight?”

  She glanced in a mirror that hung outside of the kitchenette.

  “Eh? Are we going to solve this mystery, once and for all?”

  Watching her own huge eyes stare back at her, she nodded to her image. “You are. So, work, blood meal, mystery man, in that order. Good. You’re such a good little planner. Now, what to wear for such tasks.”

  She enjoyed the simple choices that she needed to make in her human-like life. These past two months, living as a regular working girl, with nothing more important to do than perform her job properly, and take care of herself, had accomplished what she’d needed it to.

  The dreams, which had fractured her nights back in France, had calmed down into the gentle cryptic ones, and they only came occasionally. It was true that she wasn’t closer to discovering the memories that had broken her mind so long ago, but she knew it would come. Eventually, it would have to.

  But for now, and especially after last night, Tamesine was happy just living. Living. The simple act of breathing the air, and being a part of life. Being human.

  The night terrors were gone. The moments when she thought she was going to lose it all over again, had gone.

  These new dreams, with this strange man, must be part of the journey. She would discover them, too, but in her own time.

  As she finished dressing and pulled on calf-high boots, she touched her spirit amulet. The amulet was ancient, one hung around the neck of any first blood vampire. It connected them to the spirit realm, to their power, and helped them channel their strength and abilities. While usually invisible, the amulet was inextricably linked, a part of the vampire it served. First bloods had them from just after birth, and the amulet grew with the child.